Eric Flint: TITLE: Grantville Gazette.Volume XVIII

Just then the performers on the stage all faced out, obviously ready to begin. The noise level in the room began dropping. Within moments, the man with the tambourine could be heard. "Good evenin', folks. I'm Huey Jones, and we're the OF Band."

One of the women stepped up and said, "That stands for Old Fa.. ."

"That stands for Old Folks Band." The man glared a mock glare. The woman smiled sweetly at him. "Anyway, we're goin' to get started with an old favorite, "She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain."

The band started off, led by the mandolin. The patrons of the Gardens started clapping immediately. Seeing that no conversation was going to be possible for a while, Thomas and the others began clapping, too.

One song followed another. Thomas recognized several of them from his studies with Marla as being 'hillbilly' music, related to the country and western style. He decided the musicians on the stage were not the most polished he'd ever heard, but they obviously enjoyed what they were doing. Some of that joy communicated to the audience, who enjoyed both the music and the performers.

The final song ended to loud applause. The OF band waved goodbye as they stepped off the platform. Finally, the room returned to a state approaching normal, with a constant buzz of conversation in the background. The waitresses were scurrying around seeing to it that glasses and mugs were refilled.

"So," Giacomo said, "we were talking about Andrea before the music started. What are you going to do next, Andrea, besides break women's hearts and bankrupt the tailors of Rome? Have you learned all you came to Grantville to learn?"

"I have learned enough. I have not gained your depth of knowledge, Master Giacomo, but I have learned enough to know that the future is not here in Grantville. Yes, the archives of the future are here, but the future is in Magdeburg. Musical archives are useless if they are not performed, so I will return to Magdeburg soon, to ally myself with Frau Marla and Herr Franz. I will support their orchestra. I will teach, I will sing, I will preach the new music to all who will listen."

Giacomo smiled. "My. Such fervor. And what has won your conversion to the cause, Andrea? Was it Frau Marla's recital in Magdeburg last year?"

"Oh, that opened a breach in the walls." Andrea laughed. "But it did not win the final submission."

"Then what did?" Master Heinrich asked.

"Opera."

"Opera?" It was a chorus from them all.

"Opera." Andrea was firm. "Oh, not the opera of Monteverdi, or Peri, or even yourself, Master Schutz."

"Then whose?"

"Verdi… one Giuseppe Verdi."

"An Italian," Master Heinrich snorted, smiling. "I should have known that only another Italian could have touched you so."

"You laugh." Andrea smiled in return. "But the man is… was. .. will be… what is the right word to say?" Frustration entered his voice.

"I believe most everyone has settled on 'was,'" Thomas said.

"Thank you. Verdi was a genius. His lesser works are wonderful, but Otello… Otello is divine. Words fail me." But not for long, Thomas noted. "And then there is Boris Godunov, by Muss… Mussorgsky. Who would have expected a master work from Russia? The pathos of it."

Andrea gulped his wine down, looking somewhat haunted. "God is indeed fond of irony. Be careful what you pray for, my friends. For most of my career I have prayed to find great music, genius music, music that only those such as I could appreciate." His expression was now bleak. "I would die to sing Otello, to sing that part just once before an audience. But unless God the Father works a miracle in my body, it can never be." He brooded for a moment more, then forced a smile. "So, I must do the next best thing. I must help raise up the men-and women; I do not forget Frau Marla, Master Giacomo-who can fulfill my prayer."

"And you begin in Magdeburg?"

" Si. I mean, yes. It is the capital; it is where the patrons will gather. It is where Frau Simpson's arts league is centered. So, I will go there and begin. Perhaps with Frau Marla."

"Indeed." Giacomo took a sip of wine. "I have told her to study with you. Her voice, it is golden, but there is still much I believe you could teach her. And, perhaps, you could learn somewhat from her."

Andrea nodded.

"As it happens," Master Heinrich said, "I will be going to Magdeburg soon. I have heard much of what friend Giacomo has told me, but I am an old head-I need to see it and hear it in practice. So, I will go to see Herr Sylwester and his friends build this symphony. I think then I will truly begin to understand the new music, deep in my bones. Would you care to travel with me, Herr Andrea?"

"I would be delighted, Master Heinrich."

Aschenhausen-May, 1634

"Well?" Joachim ben Eleazar looked expectantly at his rabbi, Shlomo ben Moishe.

The rabbi looked sidelong at his wife, Rivka who sat next to him with a stony expression. Then he sighed. "Yes, I will go."

"Good, Rav Shlomo." Joachim clapped his hands together. "Very good. I will make arrangements."

A small smile of triumph crossed Rivka's face.

Magdeburg-June, 1634

Franz set the baton down on his stand. "Enough. We will resume after lunch with the Vaughan Williams. You have two hours, gentlemen."

After he'd stepped down from the podium, he found Marla talking to several men in the back of the great room. One of them seemed somehow familiar.

"Herr Franz, how good to see you again."

Franz stopped short, almost stunned, raising his hand by reflex. "Herr Abati…"

Abati laughed as he grasped Franz's hand and shook it. "Yes, yes, I know, I look different. But we stand at the dawn of a new age, so I decided to follow your example." He waved his hand first at Franz's trousers, then at his shorter hair.

"But what are you doing here?"

"Why, I have learned what I could from Master Carissimi. Therefore, I have returned to Magdeburg to begin to practice it. Master Schutz…" Abati waved to another of the men talking to Marla "… was kind enough to transport me in his carriage. And here we are."

Master Schutz! Franz had once accidentally received an electric shock in Ingram Bledsoe's workshop. The feeling that ran through his mind and body at hearing the esteemed German master's name was much the same.

Grappling his wits together, Franz bowed. "Master Schutz, it is indeed an honor to meet you. I have heard so much about you from the musicians you so graciously lent us."

"Hmm, indeed." Schutz fingered his beard. "I suspect, Herr Sylwester, that if what I hear of you and your goals is true, that the honor is as much mine as it is yours." He stepped forward and offered his hand. "In truth, I marvel somewhat at your boldness, to attempt to craft that now which took two hundred years to build in that other time."

Franz looked to Marla for a moment, then returned his gaze to the master. "I have no choice, Master Schutz. The music settles in one's very bones. It drives without remorse."

"Indeed," Abati murmured.

Schutz tilted his head and considered Franz for a long moment. "I believe I understand. You have my commiserations or my congratulations, whichever is appropriate."

Franz laughed. "On some days, it is both, but more often the latter than the former."

"Good, good. That is as it should be, then. Now…" Schutz smiled. "If I mistake me not, those musicians I have 'lent' you are about to descend upon me. I suggest you take your lovely wife and have your meal undisturbed whilst we have our reunion. I will endeavor to have them in their places at the appointed time."

Abati chose to accompany the others, leaving Schutz to face his men. They gathered around him, smiling. He called them by name and asked about their families.

Once the greetings were finished, he turned to where the four Amsel brothers were exchanging back-slaps and hugs. They immediately stilled when they felt his gaze. Matthaus sidled through the press to the front rank.