by Eric Flint
"I'm not an ambassador, not as you up-timers reckon such things," said Simon. "I mostly keep His Grace apprised of the latest news and intelligence, and deliver messages, such as this one. His Grace's grandfather was friends with my great-grandparents, Samuel and Bienvenida, so when I moved up here he asked me to be his residente. Your country's rather unusual policies toward Jews also played a role in the choice, I think." By "unusual," Jabe knew, Simon meant religious toleration and equal rights and treatment under the law, something not afforded Jews anywhere else.
Simon politely declined offers of food and drink when Artemisia and Prudentia joined them in the sitting room. Jabe explained about wanting to be present for his child's birth and his misgivings about traveling with the situation in Italy being what it was.
"A noble sentiment, Signore McDougal. Indeed, I believe the commitment to family you Americans hold so dear to be your best quality. However, His Grace is most eager for this demonstration of television, especially after Signore Bartolli told him of the contributions of Italians to this art form."
There was more. Jabe was still very inexperienced in diplomacy, but it was impossible to move in the circles he now moved in as Artemisia Gentileschi's representative and not learn something of court politics. He knew Simon was holding back. In such cases, Jabe knew, the best course was silence.
The silence stretched. No doubt Simon knew the same rule, and he was much more experienced. Jabe spoke first.
"But the invitation didn't come from Grand Duke Ferdinand. It came from Leopoldo de' Medici."
"Such a student you'd be, young Signore. I must teach you something of the art of diplomacy; you seem to have an instinct for it. You must understand that what I say is my own speculation, and that I am not betraying any confidences. Though the invitation came through his younger brother, I believe Ferdinand or a close adviser either directed it to be transmitted, or at the very least decided not to oppose it. His Grace finds himself in that most unenviable position for a man eager to please-he must make a difficult decision. With the coup in the Papal States Ferdinand finds himself caught between his cousin King Philip's forces in Rome and Milan like a mouse between a cat's paws. Even were that not so, his Habsburg blood pulls his loyalties in that direction. However, he also sees the promise and profit in relations with the USE and the benefits of up-timer learning, and what that might hold for the true independence of Tuscany-something most dear to the Grand Duke's heart.
"What's more, Signore Bartolli helped him out of a difficult situation with the Curzio Inghirami business last year, and I think he is hoping you will do the same with this problem. His Grace would protect Cassiano dal Pozzo as he has done with Galileo, but he fears he will not be able to. He hopes, perhaps, that you will be able to work your 'up-timer magic' and achieve the nigh impossible."
"Who does he think I am, Harry Lefferts?" Jabe said, more to himself than to Simon. In a more conversational tone, Jabe said "There's nothing for it, I guess. I don't see how I'd be able to return before next spring."
"As to that, Signore McDougal, I may be able to offer a more pleasant and speedy solution. You are familiar with the Jupiter I?"
"The aircraft known as 'The Monster'?" asked Prudentia.
"The very one, Signora McDougal. His Grace's aunt Claudia is a principle investor in Trans European Airways, and she is currently visiting Magdeburg with her eldest daughter, Vittoria. Who happens to be the Grand Duke's betrothed. They will be returning to Venice in two weeks and there is room for additional passengers and cargo."
"But the expense!" said Jabe.
Simon raised his hand. "As to that, I've taken the liberty of arranging for a modest line of credit to fund the trip, should you accept."
"We'll take it," said Artemisia.
"But Mama," Jabe objected. "I don't want to get us into debt. I know how you feel about that."
"We'll take the line of credit," Artemisia repeated. "I will do the calendar to raise additional funds."
Prudentia laughed, delighted. "But Mama, you said just last week it was common and beneath you."
"That was before I heard Rubens was doing one." Artemisia rose, and everyone else did as well. "Signore Abrabanel, I am personally indebted to you. If you would like a portrait or a canvas, please send word here, and it will be arranged."
Simon inclined his head to Artemisia and shook hands with Jabe, accepting his thanks with a dismissive gesture. Once Simon left, it began to sink in. Not only was he expected to give a series of lectures on television to the leading artists and intellectuals in Florence. And while he was at it, arrange a jailbreak.
And he had two weeks to prepare.
Epilogue-Florence, July 1635
Fra Andres would have preferred a simple cell in a quiet cloister. There was a Franciscan monastery in Florence that would have suited him nicely. His mission demanded he take rooms at the residence of King Philip's ambassador to the Tuscan court, Don Antonio de la Mer, a wine merchant. Andres was as meticulous in gathering information on allies and superiors as he was heretics and enemies, and everything he uncovered said that it was the ambassador's wife, Dona Esperanza, who was the smart one in the household.
He sighed, and sat down. It was then that he noticed the book. It was a new book, hidden in an old binding. He opened it. There was no frontispiece, only a plain title page which translated as "Homage to Catalonia." A note in a tidy hand read "Read. Then we'll talk."
Fra Andres turned the page. He was up most of the night reading.
***
Sonata, Part Three
David Carrico
Movement III – Adagio Sostenuto
Grantville – March, 1634
"… and after seeing and hearing Master Ingram's uncle's violin, the masters were eager to get the new 'merino' designs. They agreed to make us thirty master grade violins for 20 guilders apiece."
Johannes Fichtold was positively beaming, Franz thought. Then something in Johannes' report registered.
"Merino? Did you tell them these were merino designs?"
The other young man's face fell. "Aye. It was a slip of the tongue while I was making the initial proposal to them." His face brightened. "But, it's all right-they think the designs were made by an Italian named Merino. You should have seen the looks they gave each other."
Marla burst out laughing. Everyone, Franz included, looked at her wide-eyed as she positively howled, drumming her feet on the floor and pounding her fist on the table. No one spoke-they were all somewhat shocked-Marla just didn't act like this. Finally, she subsided into gasping, "Oh… oh… oh… oh, that is absolutely hilarious, totally priceless." She laughed a little more, giggled actually, brushing her hair back and wiping her eyes.
"Uh… Marla," Franz ventured, "I grant you that the masters of Fussen thinking the up-time designs were stolen from an Italian master is somewhat humorous, but…"
"Oh, come on, guys… can't you just see the passage in some future twentieth century music history textbook?" Marla's voice took on a dry, lecturing tone. "' In the middle of the seventeenth century arose the so-called 'Merino' refinements to the basic string orchestra instruments. It is commonly accepted that, as with so many other technological advances, this was due to the advent of Grantville in the Western European scene in the 1630's. The earliest documentation of the term is found in the guild records of Fussen in southern Germany, but by 1650 both the designs and the term were in common use throughout continental Europe, with England lagging somewhat behind. A number of very interesting rumors and theories exist as to the origin of the 'Merino' term, but it is generally accepted that it was the name of an Italian master who either initially produced the designs or from whom the designs were stolen. Periodically, an old theory is resurrected that the name has some connection to the merino breed of sheep, but no proof has ever been found, so it always retires back into the category of interesting fables.'"
Everyone in the room laughed, even Lady Beth Haygood, with Marla's voice skirling over
them all. At length-a very long length-order was restored. "Yes, I think we can all take some pleasure on having played a joke on posterity," Franz said, his voice a little uneven as he tried to keep from laughing again. "But, for Johannes' sake and the sake of the joke, we must keep the secret to ourselves. No more slips of the tongue. Maestro Merino must be accorded his appropriate due." Chuckles sounded all around the conference table.
"So." Lady Beth looked up from where she was sitting beside Amber Higham, who was making notes. "Thirty master class violins at 20 guilders apiece, three guilders in advance, the balance on delivery in Magdeburg by 1 April. You did specify 1 April by the Gregorian calendar, I hope?"
"Yes, FrauHaygood. But that was really not such an issue since they use that calendar every day. It was just to make sure they did not try to claim we had expected delivery by the old calendar's date, ten days later." She nodded. Johannes continued, "All instruments produced from the merino designs by December 31, 1637, will be delivered to the Royal and Imperial Arts Council."
"You got over three years out of them!" Friedrich exclaimed. "I do not believe it! Master Hans knows some of those men, and he was skeptical that they would allow even one year."
"Yes." Johannes grinned. "Well, they quickly saw that having these designs would give them… what did Master Girolamo call it… ah, yes, a 'competitive advantage.' They might not know those words, but they know the concept. I could tell they were positively slavering to get their hands on the designs, so I held my ground. It took over a week. In the process they slandered me greatly and profanely more than once. If my brother was not one of them, I am sure they would have had things to say about my ancestry. In fact, Master Eichelberger as much as said that I was an altar boy when my parents were married." Johannes laughed. "But he took it back after the others remonstrated with him."
"A good job of negotiating," Lady Beth said. Johannes sat back, beaming. Lady Beth looked at Franz and raised her eyebrows.
"The initial part of our recruiting trip was very slow, but we had three musicians who traveled with us back from Mainz. Several more from Stuttgart, Frankfurt and Schweinfurt caught up with us on the way back. So, at the moment, we have twelve. If Josef and Rudolf have any luck, and if any numbers at all respond to the broadsides and letters sent out, we should have our minimum of forty-five players by the first week of April."
Lady Beth nodded. She waited for Amber to finish taking notes, then said, "Okay, folks. Like I told you at the beginning of the meeting, I'm leaving for Magdeburg tomorrow to stay. Amber here…" The pleasant woman with the gray-streaked hair smiled at them all. ". .. will be taking over the job of representing the Imperial Arts Council here in Grantville. I'll do the same in Magdeburg, in addition to my other work with the new school." She stood and signaled that the meeting was over. "I'll see most of you in Magdeburg in a few days."
They all stood as Lady Beth and Amber left. Friedrich looked at Franz. "The Gardens?"
"By all means."
***
They were all seated around a table in the Gardens: Franz and Marla, Friedrich and Anna, Isaac, Thomas and Leopold; all the initial group from Mainz that had gathered around Marla last year to learn about up-time music. Franz had just finished describing his final encounter with Rupert Heydrich. The revelation of Heydrich's death and the manner of it greatly shocked those who hadn't been there. Anna was absolutely ashen-faced. Friedrich, Thomas and Leopold were studies in various shades of incredulity and aghast-ness.
Marla had grasped his arm while he had haltingly related what had happened. Franz felt her shiver. On his other side, Isaac was withdrawn, with a very distant look on his face. Franz was reminded of something that had puzzled him off and on since that night.
"Isaac?" No response. "Isaac?" A little louder. That pierced Isaac's shell. He looked over at Franz. "You said something that night when the body was turned on its back and the knife was revealed, something that I did not understand. What was it?"
Isaac looked very disturbed. He took a long time to respond. Finally, he said in a low tone, " Baruch dayan emes. It means 'Blessed be the Righteous Judge.' It is… traditional… for Jews to say this when we hear of or see a death. It is a reminder of the sovereignty of God; that nothing happens outside of His awareness; that regardless of our grief, He is the King of the Universe and all things happen as He wills it. It is meant to be a comfort."
"For everything there is a season…" murmured Marla.
"Exactly." But Isaac still looked distressed.
After a moment, Franz said, "Was it his death that discomfits you?"
"Nay. I have seen death before."
"The manner of it?"
"Nay."
Franz leaned forward. "Isaac, you are as close to me as a brother. I would not see you suffering because of what was my problem. Tell me what oppresses you."
Isaac sat for a long moment, staring at his tightly clasped hands on the table top, obviously wrestling with himself. Finally, he gave a great sigh. "As you will." Another moment passed. "That night, when I realized what I had said, I well nigh choked. Of all people I knew, the passing of Heydrich was not one that would have occasioned me sadness. I understood the waste of his talent, the tragedy of his life. But after all he had done, particularly after he so forcefully rejected your attempt to reconcile, there was an element of justice to his ending.
"But then you said 'That could have been me,' and…" Isaac swallowed. "That statement crashed through to my heart. I saw everything that happened that night in a new light. In Heydrich's rejection of reconciliation, that could have been me. In very truth, it is me. I must reconcile with my father-all our wisdom, all our tradition calls for it-and… I… cannot." Franz waited. "It is a blight on the life of my family, on my own. And if God, in His wisdom, calls for my life as he did for poor Heydrich's…" Isaac swallowed again. "I have not the courage to risk rejection again. Yet if I do not, I risk blighting my family for the rest of their lives." He looked up, with a desolate expression. "I wish to go to him so strongly, but I hurt so badly… it tears at me like a wolf, Franz. It hurts! "
Franz laid his hand atop Isaac's trembling clenched hands. "If you truly believe that God is sovereign, that all things happen according to His will, then trust Him. He will make a way. And until He does.. ." Marla laid her hand atop his, followed by the hands of the others at the table. "… you have here those who will help you bear your burden, just as they helped me bear mine."
One lone tear began to slowly trickle down Isaac's cheek.
Magdeburg – Early April, 1634
Franz watched as the various groups of musicians trickled into the ball room at the large room. First came the group from Mainz, Stuttgart, Frankfurt and Schweinfurt that had returned with him from the recruiting trip, led by his friend Georg Seiler. Franz had helped Georg and his daughter find a place in a rooming house that Klaus and Reuel had sworn was clean and fairly priced. Georg was still quiet and gaunt, but seemed to be a little less despondent. Franz truly hoped that the move from Mainz would be healing for both Georg and Odelia.
Following on the heels of the first group were the various musicians that had drifted in by ones and twos and threes from various towns in Thuringia, as well as a half-dozen from one of the Jesuit collegia. Franz felt a little guilty about how many small towns had just lost their premier musicians, perhaps even their only musicians, but not enough so to tell them to return to their homes. The vision of an orchestra that drove him and his friends was a stern taskmistress. He had to take the musicians regardless of where they came from.
The final group that entered was the direct result of Josef and Rudolf's recruiting trip to Copenhagen; nineteen musicians sent from the hand of Kappellmeister Heinrich Schutz. They had arrived the day before, looking somewhat worn from the rigors of traveling so far so quickly. Master Schutz himself was not with them. He had not been able to leave with them. In any event, his itinerary had been different. Matthaus Amsel, the leader of this group, had informe
d Franz that the master would first visit family in Kostritz, then would go directly to Grantville to meet with Maestro Carissimi. Only after that would he come to Magdeburg. Franz could forgive him the delay, when he saw how many musicians had come in his name.
If his count was correct, even after sending the wind players on to Grantville to study at the high school, there were sixty-two in the room right now. Franz had hoped for sixty and would have been willing to settle for forty to forty-five. He had feared that there would be fewer than thirty. They had enough! Providing, that is, that they stayed.
Franz stepped up on the platform that had been placed at one end of the room. "Your attention, please!" He pitched his voice to carry over the buzz of conversations that filled the room. The musicians turned and moved toward him. The noise began to dwindle. "Thank you, my friends, for coming to Magdeburg, for accepting the challenge to be a part of something that has never existed before-a symphony orchestra." As he spoke, Marla, Josef, Rudolf and Isaac gathered to each side of the platform.
Someone in the crowd started to speak. Franz raised his hand. "Please, all of you, let those of us in front of you speak. After that, we will have plenty of time to answer questions." He lowered his hand. "Now, I assume that you have all heard of Grantville." Heads nodded around the room. "How many of you have been in Grantville?" Perhaps a third of the men raised their hands. "How many of you have heard anything about the music of Grantville?" Over half of the hands went down.
"Well, it should not surprise you that just as Grantville contains knowledge and mechanical arts that seem amazing to us, it also contains music and instruments that are equally amazing. I and my friends…" Franz spread his arms to encompass them "… have been studying the music of the future for almost a year, now. My wife, Marla, is a Grantviller. You will find she is a surpassing musician in her own right."