1635: Music and Murder (33 page)

With that, Carissimi turned and pressed on one of the cabinets. A small drawer slid open, into which he inserted a silver disk he removed from one of the small cases. He touched the cabinet again; the drawer retracted itself into its cabinet. Finally, he turned a knob on one of the other cabinets.

Despite Carissimi's warning, when the sound of massed trumpets and sackbuts split the air, Heinrich's eyes widened. He looked around for the brass, sure that somehow they had entered the room behind him. But there was no-one there. Then it dawned on him
this
was the very thing that Master Giacomo had just told him about. Forcing himself to relax and listen, before very many moments passed, he realized that he knew this piece! The
Sonata Pian e Forte
, by his old master, Giovanni Gabrieli! He had heard it performed in the Basilica of Saint Mark in Venice during the days of his youth, when he had studied with the master. He closed his eyes and relaxed, listening to the purity of the music. Almost, almost it sounded as if he were there in the basilica again.

All too soon it was over. He opened his eyes and raised his head. He spoke aloud the words he had written about his master several years before. "But Gabrieli, immortal Gods, what a man!"

"Indeed," Carissimi answered. "So, you know that piece. You will know this one as well, I believe." He retrieved the first disk from the drawer and inserted another one.

This time, the music was choral. Within an instant of hearing the opening "
Cantate Domino, Cantate Domino canticum,
" Heinrich knew this was his work, his setting of Psalm 96 as part of his
Cantiones Sacrae
. So, Rudolf Tuchman had been right! The future from which Grantville came did remember him. Again, he closed his eyes and drank in the sound, this time listening critically. When it ended, he opened his eyes

"They pitched it too high by almost a step."

Carissimi laughed.

"That is something for another discussion, Master Heinrich. At least they have much of your music." He sobered quickly. "Very little of mine survived. I have read nothing of what they know of my . . . past, as strange as it feels to say, but Elizabeth has told me that I am remembered more as a teacher than as a composer. I know it was all written to the glory of God, but unworthy man that I am, I cannot help but feel some anger at the future princes of the church who let the works of my mind, my spirit, disappear without a trace." Carissimi spoke with an almost bitter tone.

"Who is this Elizabeth?" Heinrich was treated to the sight of Carissimi uncomfortable. Was the man blushing? Surely not.

"She . . . is one of the uptime musicians who have taught me much. When you go to Magdeburg, you will meet another: Marla Linder. We Italians have known that women can be good musicians. Marla and Elizabeth, they are proof that women can be more. They can be
virtuosi
."

Heinrich absorbed that without comment, but decided to let himself be the judge of that. "Enough of music that I already know. The young men who came to me in Copenhagen, the brothers Tuchman, brought to me a work from Grantville—from, as you say, the future. It was entitled
The Art of Fugue
, by one . . . "

"Johann Sebastian Bach." A dreamy smile crossed Carissimi's face. "Ah, yes,
The Art of Fugue
. Probably the greatest contrapuntal work by the greatest of the contrapuntalists." He focused again on Schütz. "There is a recording of it in Grantville, but I do not have it with me." Turning back to the table, he extracted a disk from the third case and placed it in the machine. "I do, however, have this by the man; the
Passacaglia and Fugue in C minor
."

For the third time, Heinrich closed his eyes and listened. The piece began with an organ playing a slow stately theme in the bass register. After eight measures it repeated as a
basso ostinato
with a new theme added to it. With each repetition of the bass theme, new themes were added to the work; so it grew in complexity. Then the rhythms began variations, but still that bass theme was heard.

The work was much longer than the previous two. Heinrich simply listened, listened with the ears of a master musician, as it built, as additional ranks of pipes were added and the sonorities became richer. It quieted to flute voices only as the various themes were delicately sounded.

Again additional stops were opened and the sonorities began to build, and build, and build, only to once more soften to passages of quiet dexterity and virtuosity. The piece was as much a test of the organ as the organist, he decided, displaying the consummate skill of the composer. The themes passed from register to register, but almost always that recurring theme was in the lowest voice. At last came a passage where the tempo slowed, followed by an outburst of rapid loud voicing, terminating in a thunderous, resounding terminal chord.

Heinrich felt chills chasing up his spine. The hair on his neck prickled. "God in heaven. To hear such work in my lifetime."

"Oh, Master. This is only the beginning."

Magdeburg
April, 1634

"Come with me, please." Franz led Isaac Fremdling and Matthäus Amsel to a small room to the side. As they entered the door, Isaac whistled.

"Greetings, Johannes. I take it these are the violins from Füssen?"

"Hello, Isaac." Johannes Fichtold nodded at his friend. "Indeed, they are. Freshly delivered from the master craftsmen."

"Matthäus," Franz said, "this is Johannes Fichtold, assistant to Master Girolamo Zenti, piano craft master in Grantville and brother to one of the luthier craft masters of Füssen. Johannes, this is Matthäus Amsel, principal violinist and leader of Master Schütz's musicians." The two men bowed to each other and murmured pleasantries.

Franz rubbed his hands together. "Right. Let us begin. Johannes, how many do we have here?"

"Of the contracted thirty, thirty were delivered in Grantville. Three of them were rejected by Masters Zenti and Riebeck and Journeyman Braun as being of inadequate quality. So only twenty-seven were shipped here to Magdeburg for your review. Here they are." Johannes waved a hand at the table.

Franz looked at Isaac and Matthäus. "We will all three inspect each of them. Then you two will play each of them. If any one of us votes 'no' on an instrument, it is rejected. Ready?" He opened the first case, and they began their inspections.

At some point in the morning the door to the room opened again. Lady Beth Haygood and Marla entered.

"Sorry I'm late, Franz," Lady Beth said.

Franz nodded, held up a hand to indicate they should wait and dove back into the conversation about the virtues and faults of the instrument Isaac was holding.

"This one is not acceptable." Isaac sniffed. "The neck is crooked, the varnish is unequally applied on the sides, and the tone is just . . . off."

"Agreed." Matthäus nodded.

Johannes shrugged and made a mark on his list. "Another one to take back to Grantville." He looked up. "That was the last one."

"Excellent!" Franz said. "So, what is the verdict of the judges?"

Johannes consulted his list. "We've rejected two more, leaving twenty-five to be accepted."

Franz turned to Lady Beth. "So, how soon can Frau Mary authorize payment?"

"Mary's out of town, remember?" Lady Beth smiled as Franz smacked his forehead. "But, before she left she gave me certain authorizations, including control over the accounts for the orchestra. I can authorize payment of the balances due under the contract."

Johannes handed him the clipboard. Franz borrowed Johannes' pencil to initial the first and second copies, then passed one to Lady Beth and the other back to Johannes.

"I'll take care of it." Lady Beth tucked her copy into her bag.

****

The young men turned back to the instruments and began discussing who should get which one. Lady Beth shook her head in amusement and followed Marla out into the hallway. "I declare, the only time I ever see Jere that worked up about something is if he can ride it, drive it or shoot it."

Marla laughed and linked arms with the older woman. "Musicians. Go figure. I've seen these boys argue about the merits of one varnish over another, or the different qualities of hair from different breeds of horses for their bows, just like my dad and his friends used to argue about which bait to try on that big catfish that used to lurk in the bend of the river."

When their laughter had subsided, Marla asked, "So, did you get everything worked out in Grantville?"

"Yep. We rented the house, furniture and all, to some acquaintance of Don Francisco. I loved that, since I didn't have to mess with trying to sell or store anything other than the knick-knacks. I packed up the kids and their clothes and their lessons for the rest of the school year. We left town pretty quickly after that meeting we had with you all last month."

"So you settled in here, yet?"

"Pretty much. Jere had already found us a place to stay, so it was just a matter of unpacking and finding places to stow everything. Most of the furniture is okay. The kids are pretty excited—it's still an adventure for them—but I do miss the electricity and the flush toilets."

"Tell me about it!" Marla laughed again. "So how's the new job?"

"Crazy. The Duchess Elisabeth Sofie Secondary School for Girls has a great future, but at the moment it's all potential. Elisabeth's father, the duke, has assigned the rents from a nearby village and its lands to provide a base funding for operations, but we're still scrambling to get it organized. We've lined up a few up-timers to teach, but we really need some additional teachers."

"Hmm," Marla mused. "What are you doing for humanities?"

"I don't know yet. They're still trying to pull together a curriculum and get it approved by the Abbess of Quedlinburg. She's the closest thing to a certification agency we've got at the moment."

"Well, you've got a
lot
of musicians in Magdeburg now. I can do choir, and voice lessons. There are a lot of string players; surely some of them can teach. Hermann Katzberg could teach harpsichord now and piano later. By next year, we should have some wind players who can teach."

Lady Beth brightened. "That's something we hadn't talked about yet. Great idea! I'll pass it on to the rest. I'd bet we'll take you up on that."

"I have an ulterior motive, of course." Marla smiled as Lady Beth raised an eyebrow. "I want public performances, public recitals. I want women musicians, darn it!"

"Of course! And with you leading the way, who would dare object?"

Grantville
April, 1634

Heinrich Schütz walked beside Giacomo Carissimi toward the "Band Room." He wasn't sure what the afternoon boded for him, only Giacomo insisted that he must hear what he referred to as a "band." And so, he was on his way to do that very thing.

Smiling, Heinrich looked over at the shorter musician. Once he got past his shyness, Master Giacomo was as voluble as most Italians. Today was no exception.

He had been talking without pause for the last few minutes.

"And here we are." Master Giacomo opened the door and ushered Heinrich inside the room. "This is where . . . ah . . . Marcus, you are here already. Good! Allow me the introductions to make. Master Heinrich Schütz, this is Marcus Wendell, the band director for Calvert High School, a master of music from the future." Heinrich nodded. "And Marcus, before you is Master Heinrich Schütz,
Kappellmeister
to the Elector of Saxony, now come to Grantville to learn of the great music you have."

Marcus held out his hand. Heinrich reached out to grasp it. "I am pleased to meet you, Master Marcus." His careful English was reasonably fluent, but the dialect of the Grantvillers was sometimes baffling.

"And I am honored to meet you, Master Heinrich, very honored indeed." Marcus was very sober. "Giacomo, I am not a master of music. Don't paint me to be something I'm not. I only earned a bachelor's degree."

"Pah!" Giacomo waved a hand in the air as if he had been taking lessons from his friend Signor Abati, the famed castrato. "Marcus, my friend, one can be a master of the art without being a Master of Arts, eh, Master Heinrich?"

"Yes." Heinrich cleared his throat. "Talent and skill cannot be denied."

"So, if we two declare you a master, a master you are. And if you wish for a piece of parchment to hang on a wall, no doubt at some time we can produce for you that very thing."

Marcus laughed. "No, thank you. If I'd really wanted a sheepskin, I would have gone back to school. I had plenty of opportunities, just never wanted it very badly." He turned and surveyed the empty chairs of the band room. "This is all I ever wanted to do, teach children to make music." He was silent for a moment, then said with quiet satisfaction, "And that is what I have done."

Heinrich looked at Master Marcus and nodded in approval.

Just then the 'buzzer,' that sound that almost had to have been first heard in the infernal regions, sounded its clamor. Master Giacomo caught Heinrich by his sleeve, drawing him back against the wall. Within moments students began pouring through the doorway, chattering as they came. It still astounded Heinrich to see boys and girls together in classes. He was not one of those who would voice the opinion that education was wasted on girls, but it definitely felt wrong to him for them to be in the same classes . . . especially at this age.

However, when in Athens, do as the Athenians do, so he attempted to look beyond that feeling and truly observe what was occurring. The . . . musicians, he decided he would call them . . . quickly took their places. And there were so many of them! He looked around. There must be almost one hundred young people in the room!

Despite what seemed to him to be an inordinate amount of conversation, loud and in places unruly, they were swiftly assembling and preparing instruments for performance. Within moments, musical sounds were issuing from all over the room.

Dazzled by the sheer size of the 'band,' it was some little time before something dawned on Heinrich. His eyes widened; he turned to Master Giacomo. "The viols . . . where are the violins, the violas, the . . . " Giacomo's grin stopped him.