1635: Music and Murder (22 page)

Mary looked pensive. "That's not enough. Where can we find more?"

They all looked at each other, and a moment of silence ensued. Finally, Thomas asked, "Cannot some of your patrons provide some musicians?"

"As a last resort, they can," Mary responded, "but I would really rather not inconvenience them if we don't have to." Suddenly her eyes lit up, and an almost beatific smile appeared on her face. "What about the Elector of Saxony's orchestra? Can we abscond with it like we will with the Prince-Bishop's?"

Shrugs all around the table. "It would be worth a try," said Isaac.

"Where else?"

Marla cleared her throat. "You might try sending circulars throughout Thuringia." Mary looked at her with a questioning expression. Marla continued. "According to the music history books, there should be at least a few Bachs scattered throughout this part of the country . . . ancestors and cousins of ancestors from collateral lines."

Mary grimaced, and made notes. "I knew that," she muttered.

"And according to Ed Piazza, there should be a sizable college of musicians around Stuttgart, as well," Marcus contributed.

Mary made more notes. Finally, she looked up again. "Okay, how do we get the word out?" The down-timers looked at her quizzically. She grinned. "How do we let musicians know that we're hiring, and what we have to offer?"

"I think," Maestro Carissimi offered, "that you will have to send personal representatives to most places. Here in Thuringia, perhaps broadsides would be useful, as most everyone does know of Grantville and what it means. But for places farther away, you must send ambassadors of music."

"Does anyone disagree?" Mary looked around the room. "Okay, we have Mainz, Stuttgart and Saxony. It will have to be you on this side of the table," she said, pointing to Franz. "The craftsmen, including Leopold, cannot leave. Thomas Schwarzberg as well. They must be focused on their work. So, who will go where?"

Franz looked over at Marla, who nodded in return. "We will go to Mainz."

Josef and Rudolf whispered back and forth for a moment. Josef said, "We will go to Stuttgart. We have a cousin there, who should provide us an opening."

Isaac had also been whispering with Hermann. He looked at Mary. "We will go to Saxony."

"Good." Mary wrote a few more notes in the ubiquitous notebook. She set the pen down, clasped her hands together in front of her, and gazed around the table. "Now, to answer Marcus' question from a few minutes ago, the reason I stressed short time lines is because our first concert has to be ready by the first of July."

"What?"

"
Gott in Himmel!
"

Various exclamations echoed off the walls of the conference room, including at least two that Franz recognized as being Italian. From the frown that appeared on Maestro
Carissimi's face, they must have been very vulgar.

Mary raised a hand to quiet them as Marcus interjected, "Mary, I don't know who you've made that commitment to, but you'd better try and get out of it, because, bluntly, it's not going to happen."

Mary's head turned and her eyes bored into his. "I beg your pardon? Did you not just tell me that there were plenty of instruments in the garages and attics, and that you could loan those we couldn't find? Did we not establish that the violins today are similar to the violins from up-time? If we can get the musicians quickly, what prevents us from getting the orchestra together and performing in six months?"

"Did you ever play a musical instrument, Mary?"

"I took piano lessons as a child."

Marcus chuckled. "About what I figured. Mary, I'm not concerned about the string players. In fact, I misspoke slightly. You can have a Bach era orchestra ready in six months or less. Bach, Händel, maybe early Haydn and Mozart, they could play. But late Classical era and later would be beyond them."

"Why?" Mary frowned. "Make me understand, Marcus."

"It's the wind players, Mary. All of these instruments we've been talking about—the woodwinds with the Böhm keys, and the brass with the valves and different styled mouthpieces. For these players, it will be almost like learning new instruments, and for clarinet and saxophone players that would be literally true.

"Mary, I've been teaching band for almost as long as Marla has been alive. And I worked with good musicians in college. I've seen musicians pick up a new instrument—one that's different from their primary—and try to learn it, and it takes a lot of time. I'll spare you the lengthy explanation with all the technical musical terms. It boils down to just the sheer physical drill of practicing, over and over and over until your lips are puffy and sore, your fingers are blistered and you are so sick of the instrument you want to throw it in the river, until you build muscle memory and it finally becomes second nature to you."

Marla smiled and nodded. Mary caught the motion, and it obviously added to the weight of what Marcus was saying.

"Okay, then, how long until we have a Beethoven or Rossini era orchestra?"

"From the time you hand them the instruments to the time they might—I say
might
—be ready to tackle that music, ten to twelve months. Might be more, but it would take a divine miracle for it to be much less. An individual player, maybe less, but a full ensemble, nope."

Mary frowned down at her hands tightly clasped on top of her notebook. She said in a low tone, "If that's what it will take, then that's what it will take. But we
will
perform a concert of at least some up-time music in early July, even if it's nothing but Bach and Handel. And, yes, Bitty, I still want a season of ballet this year. Some kind of accompaniment will be available." She raised her head and stared each of them in the eyes in turn. When his turn came, Franz felt as if he were staring down the barrels of a pair of matched dueling pistols. He had never seen her gray eyes seem that cold before. Taking a deep breath, he nodded in return, and everyone in the room echoed him.

"Good." Mary closed her notebook. "I will be leaving for Magdeburg in another day or so. I may speak to a few of you before I leave. For now, after I leave you can contact Lady Beth Haygood. You will be able to communicate with me through her, and she will coordinate finances, including traveling expenses for those of you who will be traveling." She stood. "Thank you all for your time today, for the hard work you've already done, and for your commitment to the work yet to be done. I truly do appreciate it." She looked around the room, this time with a warm smile on her face, and everyone's spirits lightened a little before she swept out of the room. The Italians and most of the instrument crafters followed close behind her.

The energy level in the room dropped dramatically after Mary left. Once again Franz was reminded of just how intense Mrs. Simpson could be. Someone at the other end of the table gave a low whistle. Marcus chuckled. "I do believe we've been drafted into the USE Arts League, folks."

"I was reading in the Bible yesterday, in the Book of Judges," Isaac said. "I believe I now know how Barak must have felt when Deborah summoned him." Everyone laughed.

Marla smiled. "Well, that's better than Elijah before Jezebel. All we have to do is raise an orchestra out of the fertile ground of Thuringia." The laughter was louder this time.

"At least your assignment is possible." They all looked at the end of the table where Bitty Matowski had almost huddled in her chair for the entire meeting. "She wants me to stage
Swan Lake
in six months, and I can't do it, not here, not now!" Franz was a little taken aback by the vehemence in her voice. "The only reason I came to this meeting was to find out if an orchestra will be available in July."

Marcus and Franz both started to speak, but Franz gestured to Marcus to continue. "Bitty, there will be an orchestra then. Will it be able to perform Tchaikovsky? I doubt it, but I'm not going to rule the possibility out. If Franz and his friends can play the music, can you stage the dance?"

"No," Bitty said in a low tone of voice. "At least not anything like what Her Ladyship and her friends would be expecting. The big set pieces she expects for the second and fourth acts require more than two dozen
en pointe
dancers, and I'm lucky if I have ten. I won't allow any of my students to perform
en pointe
until I believe they are ready. Not a moment earlier. Not for anyone or anything will I risk ruining their feet. And if Her Ladyship doesn't like that she can . . . "

"Bitty," Marla interrupted. "Calm down." Bitty settled back in her chair, giving a jerky nod in return.

Franz was astounded to hear Mary Simpson spoken of in the tone used by Bitty. Evidently not everyone viewed her intensity and drive as well as he did.

"Now, do you know for sure you can't do
Swan Lake
?" Marla asked.

"No. She told me last Friday, after the last performance. I've been stewing about it ever since, but I haven't talked to the dancers yet, because I didn't want to ruin their holiday."

"Well, then," Marla said, "get them together. Talk to them. See if together you can think of a way to do it. If you can't, come up with an alternate proposal and present it to Mary."

"But what about music, and lighting, and . . . "

Marla raised a hand, and Bitty stopped in mid-sentence. "How many times while I was taking dance from you did I hear you say that you can't write staging directions and cues until you know what you're going to do and where you're going to do it? Figure out what you're going to do and tell Mary, then find out where it's going to be done.
Then
you can worry about the other stuff."

Marcus cleared his throat. "When you know what you want to do, Bitty, come talk to me so we can look at music. Whatever you end up using musically, there's a pretty good chance that Thomas will have to transcribe it. That will take some time, so he needs to know as soon as possible. That goes for you, too . . . " Marcus looked across the table at Franz. "Once you decide what will be performed, get the word to Thomas as soon as you can. If she wants a concert in July, you'd best start rehearsing in April. And no, before you ask, I can't help."

Bitty still looked unhappy, but she nodded. "Thanks, Marcus, Marla."

Marcus placed his palms on the table and pushed himself upright. "Well, folks, I believe we've all got work to do." He led the way out of the conference room and down the short hall to the front door.

Outside, Marla gave Bitty a quick hug and some more encouragement, then joined the huddle of friends around Franz. He looked at them all. "Well, what are we going to do?"

They looked at each other. Glances went around the circle several times, and finally Thomas rumbled in his deep voice, "You have the best sense for the music, Franz. You choose the works, and I will make sure they are ready by April."

Franz looked around the circle again. "Is that what you all want?" Nods from them all, including Marla. He sighed. "So be it."

Grantville
Friday morning, January 6, 1634

Marla kissed Franz. "I'm off to the school. I'll meet you in the band room at last hour, right?" Franz nodded, and she turned away to walk down the street, headed for her appointment to play and sing for some of the elementary classes as a treat.

For a moment, Franz was a little disoriented. This was the first time since the wedding that they had been separated for more than a few minutes, but today he had no desire to mingle with a mob of young children. It did feel a little odd, though, not having Marla beside him as he wandered up the street.

The day was sunny and clear, the air was brisk and cold, but not to the point where it hurt to breathe. The joy that had been bubbling inside of him for the last three weeks overflowed, and he flung his arms wide and twirled on the sidewalk, laughing freely. As he came full circle, he was face to face with one of the elderly ladies who lived nearby. She was on her way to do some shopping with the net bag hanging from her arm next to her purse. Her eyes were wide, but she offered him a timorous smile when he stepped off the sidewalk, bowed and, with flamboyance worthy of Signor Abati, gestured that she should continue.

He was still grinning from ear to ear when he entered the workshop of Bledsoe and Riebeck. Not only was his friend, Friedrich and his craft master Hans, present, but also their competitors, Signor Girolamo Zenti and Johannes Fichtold, his associate journeyman. Of the major wood craftsmen at yesterday's meeting, only Ingram Bledsoe was missing. The four were grouped around a work table, looking at the pieces of a violin in the process of assembly and discussing it animatedly. Friedrich looked up and spotted him.

"Franz! What are you doing here, and where is Marla?"

"She is visiting school classrooms this morning to entertain children, so I thought I would do something similar and come see what happens here."

Friedrich laughed, and Master Hans had a smile nestling in his gray beard. Their two visitors were a little taken aback by the banter, but quickly sprouted smiles of their own.

"
Ach
, Franz, I see that marriage has not stopped your foolishness," Master Hans said.

"And if you thought it would, good master, then you expected too much. I am as great a fool as ever." Franz laughed. "The giddiest of fools, indeed. I rouse with the sun each day in joy, and lay my head down at night in bliss. 'Twixt the two I wander and run in delight. A fool I am indeed." He held a finger up and winked. "But surely the wisest of fools for wedding Marla. Let it be carved on my tombstone at the end of a hopefully long life, that I had wisdom enough to marry the good Marla Linder."

Now they all started laughing, and crowded around Franz to shake his hand and clap his shoulders once more in congratulations. As they started to settle down, Master Hans assumed a serious expression. "You know, young Franz, that it will not always be thus. The first bloom will fade, and only if you have sunk deep roots will you survive."

Franz sobered. "Aye, Master Hans. We know enough of life to know that our roots must run deep and twine together for there to be blooms and fruit throughout our lives. Marla will challenge me to my best, but a burden that will never be, as I want for her nothing but the best. We have each other, and we have God. It will be enough."