Eric Flint: TITLE: Grantville Gazette.Volume XVIII

Vogler's shock changed to anger quickly. "You cannot do that! I am one of Master Schutz's best musicians! Matthaus, tell him. The master will be most angry."

Matthaus shook his head. "No, Herwin. About the music, he is right and you are wrong. You are right that the master will be angry, but it will not be Herr Sylwester that will face his ire."

With an expression of stunned disbelief, Herwin turned to another and said, "Simon? Will you let this happen?"

"Herwin, I tried to tell you. This is your own doing."

Franz could see that Vogler's hands were trembling when he placed his viola in its case and snatched up his jacket. "I leave this place. You cannot discharge me-I quit!"

"As you will. Your pay will be waiting with Frau Haygood tomorrow."

Everyone watched as Vogler stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him. All eyes then turned to Franz. He looked back at them, catching each eye for a moment. "Gentlemen, I say again, I stand in the place of all these composers, these men who will never be but whose genius is still before us. I will not accept less than your best. It is our duty, and their due. If you cannot bear that stricture, then it would be best if you left now." Long moments passed.

Franz picked up his baton. "Again. From letter C."

Grantville-May, 1634

The Thuringen Gardens was moderately crowded tonight, Thomas thought. The OF Band was playing tonight. This had brought many of their followers in early to take the best places. The old men were up on the platform, tuning up and getting ready to start any moment. As he watched, they were joined by a couple of their wives.

There were some tables still open. He and Lucas Amsel followed Masters Carissimi and Schutz toward a table.

Thomas was somewhat bemused by Master Carissimi's choice of attire. He had set aside the black cassock he sometimes wore, even though he was not a cleric… at least not yet. Thomas had heard him say from time to time that he was truly considering entering orders. When not wearing the cassock, Master Giacomo normally wore the culottes-knee britches-ruffled shirt and coat of a gentleman. Tonight, however, when he took the coat off and flung it over the back of his chair, Thomas was astounded to see him wearing a t-shirt.

T-shirts were almost ubiquitous in Grantville. They were seen in all sizes and colors, including many colors not found in nature. Master Tom Stone's tie-dyed t-shirt came to mind, which occasioned a shudder on Thomas' part. That shirt looked like a hangover felt, as far as he was concerned.

Many of the t-shirts had pictures or words on them. Variations on the American flag were common. Out of all that he had seen, Thomas had two favorites, one serious and one comical. The serious one had a long quote on it: "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. – Edmund Burke." The comical one had a much shorter quote: "I'm with Stupid," above an arrow that pointed to the right. In some fashion, Thomas felt that those two shirts captured the essence of Grantville.

The t-shirt that Master Giacomo was wearing fell somewhere in between those two extremes, being simply a bright pink shirt with a picture of a plaza and surrounding buildings rendered on it in exquisite detail. Master Giacomo saw him looking at it.

"The Piazza Navona in Rome." He held the front of the shirt stretched out between his hands. "I have walked it before, many times. It reminds me of home. Remind me some time to tell you how I found it here in Grantville."

Master Heinrich looked at Master Giacomo, then at Thomas. "Tell me

… do you know if Frau Amber is married? I have not seen a ring on her hand such as the married women of Grantville wear."

Thomas' eyebrows rose involuntarily. He looked at Master Giacomo, who replied, "I believe I was told that she was married back in the time before the Ring of Fire, but that she divorced her husband for adultery. His adultery."

"She never remarried?"

"I do not believe so, no. In any event, it would be a moot point now. As I understand it, the consensus appears to be that all spouses not in Grantville when the Ring of Fire fell will be treated as dead. That would mean Frau Amber should be considered a widow." Master Giacomo looked at Master Heinrich with the same curiosity that Thomas himself felt.

After a moment, Master Heinrich, obviously feeling the weight of their gazes, said, "She reminds me of Magdalena… my wife. I find her… interesting."

Master Giacomo, Lucas and Thomas exchanged astonished looks. Before any of them could think of anything to say, the wine and beers arrived. Moments later, so did Signor Abati.

Andrea Abati had arrived in Grantville in December not long before Christmas. He was an acquaintance of Master Giacomo's, come from Magdeburg to visit the master and to learn more of the modern music.

Signor Abati was a castrato, or more politely, a gentilhuomo. This automatically made him a member of the musical elite of Italy. According to Master Carissimi, though, Abati was more than just a member of that group; he was the elite of the elite, probably the finest singer and musician of all the gentilhuomi. He was known as Il Prosperino among the patrons and musicians of Rome. The problem, from Thomas' perspective, was that Abati, at least when he first arrived, was fully in agreement with Master Carissimi's opinion. Despite the fact that he was taller than the Italian, Thomas had felt all too often during their first encounters that Abati was looking down his nose at all things German.

That had changed as Abati spent time with Marcus Wendell, Master Giacomo and Elizabeth Jordan. He had disappeared into the music libraries of the school and the various churches for days. From time to time, he would borrow a book from Master Wendell, only to return it in a few days and then begin to question everyone in sight about various issues until he had worked everything out and understood things-or at least as well as anyone in Grantville did.

Thomas had been around Abati quite a bit the last few weeks, particularly after Franz and the others had left on their trips. By that time, Abati had set aside most of his flamboyance. He was now so focused on the music that he rivaled Franz and Marla in intensity. Thomas quite approved of Abati these days. The thought surprised him somewhat.

"Good evening, friends." Abati plopped into the chair left open for him.

Thomas felt a moment of envy, for Abati's German was as melodious as his Italian. Then something registered with him at the same moment that Master Giacomo gasped. "Andrea, what have you done?"

"Oh, this?" Abati ran his fingers through his hair-his much, much shorter hair. "Yes, I have set aside the trappings of being Il Prosperino. I decided that to spend so much time on my hair and clothing was a distraction from the music. So, I simplified my life." Abati ran his fingers again through his wavy auburn hair again. It was no longer than the bottom of his ears, and his grin was almost salacious. "Then, when I let it be known that I wanted my hair cut, the proprietresses of the 'beauty salons,' seemed to almost come to blows over who would cut it. I finally settled on Frau Thelma Jean Agnes Jenkins at the 'Curl and Tan.'"

Abati paused long enough to give his order to the waitress. "I had at first thought of taking all my shorn locks and using them as favors for ladies in Italy to remember me by and for ladies in Germany to come to know me by." His grin was now several degrees past salacious. "But Frau Jenkins convinced me that I should allow her to sell them to a wigmaker. Even after her commission for the cutting and the sale, I pocketed more than a few coins."

"And your attire?" Carissimi quirked an eyebrow.

Abati shrugged a rather expressive shrug. "Long pants and a jacket. Life is so much freer, more comfortable. Velvet, of course. I have not given up all thought of style." His wine arrived as they were laughing. After taking a sip, he continued, "I got a pretty penny from the seamstress who bought all the brocade, as well." Another grin. "I think they will use the former owner of the hair and clothes as a selling mark." More laughter.