And in fact, my eyes had drifted shut while Adolpheus spoke. I wasn’t sure if it was a lack of strength or inclination that kept me from opening them again as my visitors left the room. I
was
tired – I could not remember ever having felt so drained … yet my mind would not stop racing, presenting me with nightmarish images of what I had seen, or hallucinated, and wondering, too, at the mystery of my missing clothes. It seemed that someone must have found me before Adolpheus, and removed them … perhaps wanting me to freeze to death. But who would feel threatened enough by my presence to commit murder? Could it have been Doppler after all?
My musings were interrupted by the sound of my name. I opened my eyes to see once more the girl who had been watching over me when I first awoke. Perhaps I had dozed off, for I hadn’t heard her come in. She was sitting in a chair drawn up close to the bedside and leaning towards me with an anxious expression, as though eager to wake me yet fearful of it, too. A fine gold chain encircled her neck, and dangling from the end of it was a glittering gold ring, like a wedding band. The girl was young – no more than sixteen or seventeen, I thought; surely the ring could not be her own, or she would be wearing it … unless it
had
belonged to a husband now deceased. Beneath a pale blue kerchief, two wings of blonde hair fanned to either side of a snowy white forehead whose worry lines added an appealing touch of vulnerability to features that were otherwise flawless. Those lines deepened as she blinked hazel eyes and drew back slightly.
‘I-I brought you this,’ she stammered, and raised a steaming wooden bowl from her lap in a flustered motion that sent a portion of the contents spilling over her skirt … at which, to my astonishment, she burst into tears, twisting away from me in the chair.
‘Here now,’ I said, sitting up with alacrity, ‘what’s wrong? Are you burned?’
She shook her head.
‘Then why are you crying?’
She faced me, her cheeks rosy in the candlelight. She was like a figure in a painting, present yet remote, beautiful and sad, and I ached to know the cause of her distress, and to assuage it if I could. She wiped her face with the back of one sleeve, first one cheek and then the other, reminding me of a cat grooming itself, and gave me an embarrassed smile. ‘Because you will hate me,’ she said.
‘Hate you?’ I was flabbergasted. ‘I don’t even
know
you.’
Her gaze faltered at that, dropping to her lap, then rose again, resolute now. ‘I took your things,’ she said.
‘You mean my clothes …?’ But then, as her blush deepened, comprehension dawned. ‘My tool kit! You’re Herr Doppler’s daughter.’
She nodded, fresh tears welling in her eyes. ‘You
do
hate me!’
I assured her I did not. ‘I’m just glad to have my tools back,’ I said. ‘You
did
bring them back, didn’t you?’
She nodded again, sniffling. ‘They’re in your rucksack, where I found them.’
I heaved a sigh of relief, sinking back against the mound of pillows. ‘Thank God. And thank you, Fraülein.’
‘Then … you’re not angry?’
‘Your father told me that you took my tool kit to keep me from destroying the tower clock or any of Herr Wachter’s other timepieces. Now that I’ve seen them for myself, or a number of them, anyway, I can appreciate your concern – not that I approve of what you did.
Nor
was there ever any danger of my doing what you feared.’
‘My father doesn’t understand anything,’ she confided with more than a hint of bitterness, her eyes shifting towards the closed door as if she expected him to come barging in at any moment.
‘Then I’m afraid I don’t, either,’ I said.
‘Clockmen never stay in Märchen for long,’ she said. ‘They arrive one day and leave the next. I thought that if I stole your tools, you’d be forced to stay.’
‘I would have been forced to stay in any case, thanks to the blizzard.’
‘But I didn’t know that. When I came to your room, the snow had only just begun to fall. I saw you lying there in bed, sound asleep, and I thought you looked so young, not much older than me, and kind, so that you wouldn’t mind if I sneaked a peek at your tools. Once I had the kit in my hands, I couldn’t stop myself from taking it. I know it was wrong, Herr Gray, but I was afraid you’d leave the next morning if I didn’t do something.’
‘But why should it matter to you whether I go or stay?’
‘Because’ – and her gaze went to the door again, or perhaps to my rucksack, which was no longer on the floor but hanging from a wooden peg on the back of the door – ‘because I want to be like you. A clockman.’
So unexpected was this answer that I burst out laughing. ‘A clockman? You?’
The look she gave me was not tearful but angry; my laughter shrivelled in the fierceness of her gaze. ‘Why not?’ she demanded. ‘Do you think me too dull to understand your arts?’
‘No,’ I answered, drawing out the word as I considered how best to proceed. I recalled how Herr Doppler had spoken of his daughter’s mercurial nature, and the way she was clutching the bowl in her lap made me suspect that my next words would determine whether or not I received a faceful of hot broth. ‘It’s just that neither my guild nor any other of which I am aware accepts apprentices of your sex.’
‘Yes, that’s just what Papa says. But I don’t need to join a guild.
You
could teach me, Herr Gray!’
I would have liked to dismiss it all as a joke, but there was no mistaking the girl’s seriousness and determination. ‘Look, Fraülein,’ I began.
She interrupted. ‘Please, Herr Gray. Call me Corinna.’
‘And you must call me Michael,’ I said, ‘for I hope that we can be friends.’
Her face lit up in a smile, and I felt a stirring in my heart.
‘Then you’ll do it?’ she demanded. ‘You’ll instruct me?’
‘Why are you so interested in clocks?’ I asked in turn.
She laughed. ‘Living in Märchen, how could I not be?’ She seemed to take belated notice of the bowl in her lap and, blushing again, offered it to me. ‘Frau Hubner says you are to finish this broth – every last drop.’
I took the bowl from her, feeling a tingle where our fingers brushed. The beefy smell of the broth made my mouth water. There was a wooden spoon in the bowl, and I raised it to my lips and sipped. I had never tasted anything so delicious; warmth and vitality coursed through my body in dizzying waves.
‘Slowly, Michael,’ the girl admonished as I slurped down the broth. After a moment, she returned to the subject of clocks. As she spoke, she toyed with the ring on her necklace, turning it in the fingers of one hand, and I found myself wondering once again about the story that no doubt lay behind it: felt, too, a twinge of jealousy at the thought that some other man, living or dead, might have a claim on her affections.
‘When I was young, our timepieces seemed like magic to me. But as I grew older, I began to wonder at how they functioned. I longed to take them apart and see for myself what it was that drove the hands in their orbits and regulated their progress around the dial. But as you have discovered, it is impossible to get permission to open any of Herr Wachter’s creations. Of course, that didn’t stop me. I can’t tell you how often I tried in secret to gain access to my father’s pocket watch or one of the other timepieces of the town. And how often I was caught and punished. But despite my efforts, I never managed to open a single one. As for the tower clock, I’ve searched and searched for a way in, even climbing to the campanile itself, but without success. Yet I haven’t been completely defeated. Over the years, I managed to find a few old timepieces tucked away in attics – clocks and pocket watches from before Wachter’s day – and these I studied thoroughly, dissected and put back together as best I could, with tools I fashioned myself out of cutlery and anything else that came to hand. But I have reached the limits of what
I
can learn on my own. I require instruction, a teacher. A man like you, Herr Gray … that is’ – and she blushed again – ‘Michael.’
Finished with the broth, I returned the empty bowl to her and lay back against the pillows. A vast and sleepy well-being pervaded me. I felt light-headed, almost drunk. I had no desire to argue with this pretty and spirited young girl. ‘I should like to see some of those tools of yours, Corinna,’ I said.
Her blush deepened. ‘I would be ashamed to show you.’
‘Ashamed?’
‘I didn’t simply take your tools, Michael. I studied them. What beautiful things they are! So cleverly designed, so lovingly crafted. By comparison, mine are crude, laughable, ugly.’
‘I received most of my tool kit when I became a journeyman. Over the years, like many clockmen, I’ve added some implements of my own design. But to do what you have done, without benefit of a master’s guiding hand – that is truly impressive.’
‘Papa doesn’t think so. He finds my interest in timepieces unladylike. I’m afraid I couldn’t show you my tools even if I wanted to, for he confiscated them from me after learning that I had taken yours. But he’s done so before, and it hasn’t stopped me yet.’ She flashed a conspiratorial smile. ‘I just make new ones.’
‘I’ve never met a girl quite like you, Corinna,’ I told her. ‘And yet I almost feel as if we have met before …’
‘Why, that’s not surprising,’ she said. ‘After all, I helped care for you during your sickness, even if you don’t remember it.’
‘For which I’m grateful.’
‘Grateful enough to teach me something of your art?’
It occurred to me that I had been manipulated into acknowledging an obligation, but somehow I didn’t care. ‘I doubt your father would approve.’
‘He doesn’t have to know,’ she said. ‘It can be our secret. At least for the next few days, while you’re getting your strength back, you could teach me. What harm could it do?’
‘I’ll think about it,’ I told her. After all, what would be the harm in showing her a few things? Nor was it lost on me that Corinna could prove a valuable ally in my efforts to convince her father, the
burgomeister
, to grant me the permission I sought. And if all else failed, perhaps I could enlist her as an accomplice, get her to bring me one of Wachter’s timepieces; she had already proved herself an adept thief. Besides, the notion of spending more time with Corinna was appealing for its own sake.
‘Thank you, Michael,’ she said, breaking into a wide and dazzling smile.
‘I haven’t agreed to anything yet,’ I cautioned.
‘But you will,’ she said. ‘I know it.’ At which, to my surprise, she leaned forward impulsively and planted a kiss on my cheek. A jolt shot through me at the touch of her lips, and the scent of pine enfolded me, rich and resinous, as if I were walking through a mountain forest in springtime.
Just then, a voice thundered from the doorway: ‘What is going on here?’
Corinna drew back with a gasp. ‘Papa!’
Herr Doppler marched into the room, his bushy white moustache bristling like lightning, his face an ominous shade of red. He wore a colonel’s uniform and a powdered club wig the colour of pewter.
Corinna rose and went to him before I could say a word, laying a hand on his arm. ‘Calm yourself, Papa, dear. I was merely making Herr Gray more comfortable.’
He glared at her. ‘Were you indeed, madam? It appeared to me that the rascal was stealing a kiss.’
‘Papa!’ she chided him. ‘Our poor patient is too weak to steal anything.’
Doppler gave me an appraising glance. ‘He looks feeble, I’ll grant you, but looks can be deceiving … as can daughters.’
Doppler was now the recipient of the same fierce look that had been directed at me a moment ago. He withstood it no better. ‘That is,’ he said, ‘these footloose rascals can lead innocent girls astray with their wild talk.’
At which Corinna stamped her foot. ‘Honestly, Papa! Do you take me for a simpleton? I swear to you on my honour that Herr Gray did not steal a kiss.’
‘Is this true?’ the burgomeister demanded of me.
I nodded, impressed with Corinna’s sangfroid.
‘There, you see?’ The girl stood on tiptoes to plant a kiss on her father’s ruddy cheek.
The man fairly glowed. ‘Forgive me, my dear,’ he said, then addressed me once more. ‘I beg your pardon as well, Herr Gray. With such a treasure, a father cannot be too careful.’
‘Your daughter has been my ministering angel,’ I told him, struggling to keep my expression serious and my voice level as, behind Doppler’s back, Corinna blew me another kiss. ‘I would not repay her in such a base fashion.’
‘Such sentiments do you credit,’ said Doppler. He turned back to his daughter. ‘Frau Hubner has need of you. I will tend to the patient for a while.’
‘Yes, Papa,’ she said demurely. ‘I will see you later, Herr Gray.’
‘Thank you again, Fraülein,’ I replied.
Smiling, she curtsied and left the room.
As soon as she had gone, Doppler’s manner underwent a stark change. Crossing to the bed, he seated himself in the chair that Corinna had vacated and took hold of my upper arm, squeezing so that I gasped in pain.
‘Let us speak as men,’ he said in a low voice that was all the more threatening for its icy calm. ‘Should I discover that you have trifled with my daughter, Herr Gray, you will wish that Adolpheus had left you buried in the snow. Nay, do not speak. I know how it is with you wandering rascals. Clockmen? Cockmen, more like! Do not trouble to deny it, sir! I have been a soldier. I know what it is like to be young and footloose, far from home, with pretty wenches set before you like dishes at a banquet. You try a taste of this one, of that one. Where’s the harm? Come, sir! Do I have the wrong of it?’
I stammered out some excuse or other.
His vice-like grip tightened. ‘We are both men of the world. Pray do not insult me.’
I wrenched my arm free. ‘What do you wish me to say, sir? Yes, I have had dalliances in the course of my travels. You imply that you did the same as a younger man. It is, as you say, the way of the world. But that does not mean I have no honour, Herr Doppler. No
gratitude
. And you speak of insult? It is you who have insulted me!’
Herr Doppler’s blue eyes widened during this outburst. At the end of it, he sat a moment as if stunned, then broke into hearty laughter, slapping his knee. ‘I like you, Herr Gray; indeed, I do,’ he said at last, wiping his eyes. ‘In truth, I meant no offence. I merely wished to impress upon you that my daughter is precious to me above all things.’