Eric Flint: Grantville Gazette.Volume XVI

Isaac hurried to reach Marla just as she reached the bottom step. He grabbed her arm, and looked to Reuel. "Franz says we must keep her here." Reuel immediately grabbed her other arm.

"What are you doing?" Marla twisted in his grip. "Let me go! What's going on?"

"Shhh!" Isaac hissed at her. "Marla, that is Heydrich he faces! The man is drunk, or mad, or both, and is dangerous as a mad dog. You must stay here, let Franz face him. If you intrude you will distract him, which just might get him killed."

"Listen to him." Reuel surprised him by his support. "I am charged with your protection… I will not let you go there. Keep quiet, and your husband will probably survive. Start fighting or screaming, and he will die for certain." Marla turned white, gulped, and nodded.

Isaac turned to watch just as Franz began playing. It was one of the Irish songs, the one called variously "Londonderry Air", or "Derry Air", but most commonly "O Danny Boy." Isaac had sung it before, and the words reeled through his mind as Franz played.

O Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling

From glen to glen, and down the mountain side.

The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying.

It's you must go, and I must bide.

As Isaac sang the words of the song in his mind, Franz's violin sang the song without words, rich, sonorous, and somehow sad.

But come ye back when summer's in the meadow,

Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow.

'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow.

O Danny boy, O Danny boy, I love you so.

Franz sped the tempo a little in the chorus, lifting and swelling the sound as the lines rose and fell, slowing again in the last phrase. Isaac matched him move for move in his mind, thinking in a back corner of his mind that they needed to perform it this way some time.

And when you come, when all the flowers are dying,

And I am dead, as dead I well may be,

You'll come and find the place where I am lying,

And kneel and say an 'Ave' thee for me.

The second verse was so delicate, it was almost musical lace. Franz's touch was so light it belied his frequent insistence that he was still a fumbler, still only hacking at playing because he was not fully rehabilitated.

And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me,

And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be,

If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me,

And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.

Again the sound swelled with the chorus, joyously, triumphantly, cresting in the third line. The tone was so pure, so sweet that chills surged up and down Isaac's spine. Closing his eyes, he abandoned himself to the music, as it began to ebb.

And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.

Franz repeated the last line, slowly, softly, taking the final note up an octave and just seemed to hold it forever, letting it gently fade. As it disappeared, Isaac opened his eyes and looked to Marla. He was unsurprised to see tears on her cheeks.

Releasing the breath that he hadn't even realized he had been holding, Franz lowered his bow. He turned to the bar and set both violin and bow back in the case. Closing it, he pushed it toward the innkeeper, and motioned that he should set it behind the counter. The man nodded, and made an arrested motion with the cudgel in his hand, as if to offer it to Franz. Franz shook his head slightly and turned back to Heydrich.

"Rupert," Franz said. No reaction. "Rupert," he said louder. Heydrich started, and stared at him, wide-eyed. "Rupert, there is such music to be learned, such music to be played, that there is room for the two of us and many more. Can you not feel it? Can you not feel that tonight, perhaps tonight alone, we can make amends and enter this new world together?"

Heydrich said nothing.

Reaching back to the bar, Franz picked up the mug of beer he had ordered what seemed to be hours ago. "Come, Rupert," holding the mug out, "will you drink with me? Can we make amends?" There was silence for a long moment, then Heydrich's left hand snaked out and slapped the mug from Franz's grip. It bounced against the counter, and rolled across the floor.

"Make amends?" Heydrich spat. "Never! You have slandered me, making everyone think that I caused your injury. You belittled me, you took the praise that was my due, you were constantly stealing my place, you… you… It is all your fault!. And now you come, sneaking back to Mainz, seeking to steal my place again, bringing with you Jew Isaac and some slattern. Who is she, some down-on-her-luck whore who can find no one better than a cripple and a Jew?"

Rage flared through Franz. He felt as though every muscle in his body was clenching, as if he was swelling in size to contain his wrath. Somewhat of that must have shown, for Heydrich fell back a step or two.

"What lies between us, Rupert," Franz said in a voice so cold it could have been the winter wind blowing from the mountains of Sweden, "is between us alone. You will not say these things to my wife." As Heydrich's mouth opened, Franz raised his hand. " You will not. " His voice was no louder, but it was so hard it could have cut steel.

Heydrich was silent for a moment. "As you say, it is between us." His voice was shaking.

Franz lowered his hand, and when he spoke again, his voice was normal. "One last time, Rupert. I freely admit that I have wronged and hurt you in the past, just as you have wronged and hurt me." He held his hand out again. "Will you not take my hand and help heal this breach? Will you not make amends?"

For answer, Rupert spat at him

Filled with an unexpected sadness, Franz lowered his hand. "'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.' By your own words and actions are you judged, Rupert. As you have rejected, so you are rejected. There will be no place for you in our world. Good-bye, Rupert. I shall not see you again."

Franz started to turn away. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Heydrich yank something from inside his coat. Heydrich yelled, "Turn not your back on me, wretch! I will have your life's blood for the insult!" The next few moments were a blur. Franz could sense Heydrich lunging for him, no doubt with a knife in hand. He attempted to jump out of the way. Marla start to scream and the innkeeper began to bellow. His foot slipped in a puddle of beer on the floor from the mug that Heydrich had knocked from his hand earlier. Panic flashed through Franz's mind when he hit the floor-a flashback to the night Heydrich had crushed his hand. There was a loud thump behind him, and he rolled, cradling his hands between his chest and the counter, protecting them, expecting at any moment to feel Heydrich's boots crashing into him.

Nothing happened. The innkeeper stopped yelling. Marla stopped screaming. Then he could feel her at his side, pulling on him, saying, "Get up, get up! Are you hurt?" over and over again. He started to yell for Isaac and Reuel to come get her, to get her out of Heydrich's way, but a different sort of panic shot through him-Marla was in reach of Heydrich! He uncurled and shot to his feet instantly, looking around for his nemesis, and seeing… Reuel, bending over the huddled shape of a man on the floor. An unmoving shape. A shape wearing the coat that Heydrich wore.

Reuel stood, stuck his toe under a shoulder, and rolled Heydrich over. As his face appeared, Franz froze. Marla screamed again. Isaac said something that Franz didn't understand.

Heydrich would torment no one any more. As he would have done, so he was done to. Protruding from his right eye-socket was a knife hilt, blood seeping out around it.

"Never seen anything like it," the innkeeper said, shaking his head. "The drunken fool was holding that little knife ham-fisted, and when he slipped on the beer and threw his hands out to catch himself, he would not let go of the knife. His head came down right on the point of the blade." The innkeeper kept muttering, even as he sent a pot boy for the guard.