Eric Flint: Grantville Gazette.Volume XVI

Grantville – Early February, 1634

Marcus Wendell turned the corner in the hallway and came face to face with Lady Beth Haygood. She was accompanied by a man he didn't recognize, which meant he was a down-timer.

"Lady Beth." Marcus came to a sudden stop. "Just who I wanted to see."

"Hey, Marcus." Lady Beth and her companion stopped as well. "What's up?"

"Just wanted to see if you've heard anything about Marla and her friends."

"Nothing. Where they were going and as long as they've been gone, they're well out of the range of the telegraph now. We probably won't hear anything about them until they're back."

"That's about what I figured," Marcus said. "Just thought I'd check."

Lady Beth smiled. "If I hear anything, I'll let you know." She reached out and placed her hand on her companion's shoulder. "Marcus, this is Max Ohl. He's going to be filling in for me in the office for a couple of weeks. Max, this is Marcus Wendell. He's the band director at the high school."

"Nice to meet you, Max."

"I am happy to meet you also." Max said, bobbing his head. He was a young man, Marcus saw as they shook hands, looking to be about the age of Marla and her friends. His English was strongly accented, but precise.

"So." Marcus turned back to Lady Beth. "Are you going to Magdeburg, then?"

"Yeah. I'm leaving next Monday, be gone for two weeks. They really want me to take this school deal, so I'm going down to scope things out. If it looks decent at all, I'll take it. I want my family back together, and since we'd be starting a secondary school for girls, all the kids would have places in good schools. That was the main reason I held back from moving before."

"Well, travel safe, good luck, and let me know if you hear anything."

"I'll do that."

Aschenhausen – Early February, 1634

Joachim ben Eleazar accepted a cup of wine from Rebitzin Rivka. "Please, sit, RebJoachim." Rabbi Shlomo ben Moishe gestured at a chair. As he did so, the rabbi sat as well. His wife chose to stand, although there was a stool nearby.

As the guest, Joachim knew he was expected to sample the wine and compliment it. Best to get it over with, he thought to himself. Rabbi Shlomo's taste was… undiscerning, to be kind.

As he expected, it wasn't very good. Since he had become parnas, president, to the community, he had suffered from the rabbi's tastes more than once. He suppressed his wince and said, "As good a cup as I have ever had." He made a mental note, as he had in the past, to acquire a few bottles of better Jewish wines to gift to his rabbi.

After several minutes of conversation about topics and issues that the two leaders frequently talked about, the rabbi set his cup on a nearby table, and folded his hands across his middle. At last, Joachim thought, we arrive at the purpose for tonight.

"My wife tells me," Shlomo said slowly, "that you have spoken with one who was once part of our family."

"It is true, I have had speech with Yitzhak, Rav Shlomo," Joachim agreed. "He was on the business of Don Francisco Nasi, Pinchas ben Yudah of the Abrabanel family."

"He has taken service with them, then?"

"Mmm, no, I would say not. Rather, he is briefly associated with them to pursue a common purpose."

"Ah." Shlomo nodded, then hesitated for a moment as a look of hunger flashed across his face. "Is he… well?"

"Yes, he is mostly well," Joachim responded. "He has matured into a handsome young man, tall and straight. He favors you to some degree, but I see traces of your wife's father in his face as well." He paused for a moment, then continued with, "My contacts tell me…" The rabbi well knew who his contacts included. "… that he is known as Isaac Fremdling among the goyim, and has attained some reputation as a musician."

Rabbi Shlomo absorbed the double hit. First, that his son had named himself 'Stranger' to the rest of the world, and second, that music was still such a part of his life. It was the rabbi's objection to his son's passion for music that was the root cause of their estrangement. Joachim saw his face freeze. Nothing was said for a long moment. Finally, the rabbi cleared his throat. "I am not surprised by that." He stared at his hands for another long moment, then looked up at Joachim. "Tell me."

Joachim recounted everything that had passed between him and Yitzhak in their meeting several days ago. He included his perceptions of the young man's state of mind. The rabbi drank it all in, fingering his beard all the while. He turned pale when Joachim repeated the metaphor of the wounded fox which had touched his earlier conversation with Rivka. When the telling was completed, Rabbi Shlomo stared at the opposite wall, a very distant expression on his face, pain in his eyes.

Time passed. At last, Joachim spoke again. "RavShlomo, with all respect, you were wrong in how you handled the situation with your son. It is the nature of young men to be passionate about some things. It is also the nature of young men to sometimes be disobedient. And although the Proverbs of Solomon say to spare not the rod in disciplining the children, it says nothing about wounding them unto death.

"I was there that evening. I recall it well. I recall the president of our community, old Benyamin ben Yohannon, and myself and the other elders pleading with you to not say those words, to find some way to not cast him out so finally. You would not listen to us, and so your first-born has been sundered from your family for over five years. Five years of grief for you and Rivka, and Devorah and Rachel and Reuven. Five years of pain and exile for Yitzhak. Old Benyamin would not challenge you further, so we, the community, supported you through saying Kaddish and sitting Shiva."

Joachim stopped, and directed a stern look at his rabbi. "But now I, Joachim ben Eleazar, president of our community, I say to you enough. Yitzhak has not stayed away because of anger or hatred. He has stayed away because he was wounded to the heart, and so deep and so wide is that wound he cannot find his way over or around it. He must be helped to reconcile, and that help must come from you. As Torah says, 'compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness.' No other can reach him."

Rabbi Shlomo took that all in, unflinching, staring at Joachim. After the speech finished, he turned his head and looked at his wife for a long moment. She might well have been a statue, so still did she stand, so rigid was her face. Facing forward again, he sighed. "I must think on this."

Mainz-February, 1634

"You will come, Georg?" Franz was delighted. Their quest for instrumentalists had so far not produced many musicians who were willing to move to Magdeburg.

After going to Aschenhausen so Isaac could fulfill his charge from Don Francisco, the group had decided to change their itinerary, reversing the order of the cities they would visit. From Aschenhausen, it actually made more sense to proceed directly to Stuttgart, then proceed to Mainz, and finally return to Magdeburg via Grantville.

They had made good time. The horses had remained healthy, and they had only suffered two broken wheels so far.

The stay in Stuttgart had begun well. The letter from the Tuchman brothers had been delivered to their cousin, who was able to provide introductions to many of the musicians in the town. They were well-received, and had demonstrated some of the new music with some of the new instruments, such as Marla's flute and a violin that Ingram had purchased out of Grantville's attics, but no one was willing to commit to coming to Magdeburg, particularly on such short notice.

Slightly disheartened, they had driven up the road to Mainz, counting on making contact with the musicians who had been there when Franz and the others had left. To their dismay, when they did arrive, they found that Isaac's estimate of twelve to fifteen possible recruits was a serious overestimate. Three of the musicians they were counting on had died in the months that had passed since Isaac and the others had left Mainz to travel to Grantville at Franz's invitation. Another had suffered a career ending injury, and three more had left Mainz looking for better circumstances. As they had not been in Stuttgart, Franz only hoped that word of the invitation to Magdeburg somehow found its way to them.