Grantville Gazette. Volume XX (ring of fire)

by Eric Flint

  The opening chorale section of the opening section, the Sinfonia, sounded, forte and deliberate. It was indeed a stately piece, and Schutz soaked it in. It repeated in a piano dynamic, almost as if there was a quiet echo in the room, concluding in a sustained chord.

  He opened his eyes to watch as Franz gave the cut-off for the chord, then literally in the next moment gave the attack to begin the fugal section of the Sinfonia. The violins carried the opening line alone, until four quick measures later Franz cued the second violins to their entrance, followed four measures later by the violas, cellos and basses. There had been several discussions, Heinrich remembered, as to what tempo this section should be played at-the slower tempo that was the score's direction, or the faster tempo that was more traditionally used. He was glad to hear that Franz had settled on the latter.

  Eyes closed again, Schutz listened as the string parts chased each other through the fugal section, now forte, now mezzo-forte, now forte again, until they reached the concluding chords.

  ***

  There was something in the air tonight, Marla decided; something that conducted excitement. The choir had reached that fine point where every person was so focused, so poised, so ready for what was coming that the air almost sizzled. Her brother would have said they had their game on.

  The tenor soloist stepped forward. Archard Daecher looked like a walking skeleton, but the young man had a voice that in its own way was nearly the equal of Dietrich Fisher's. Marla could see heads nodding in the audience as he sang the opening words of the arioso "Comfort Ye, My People."

  ***

  "The voice of him

  That crieth in the wilderness,

  'Prepare ye the way of the Lord.

  Make straight in the desert

  A highway for our God.'"

  Master Giacomo Carissimi sighed as the tenor arioso ended with that declamation. Such a strong voice. Such precision in the singing. His friends Master Andrea and Frau Marla had done well indeed in preparing the singers if they were all up to this plane of musical offerings.

  ***

  Mary Simpson smiled as the tenor launched into the air "Every Valley Shall Be Exalted." Oh, how she had missed this music. It had been part of the annual cycle of great music that had once been part of her life as the Dame of the Three Rivers. Every Christmas and Easter, all or part of Messiah was being performed somewhere in town, and she almost always managed to attend at least one performance. She hadn't realized how much she had missed it until she made it back to Magdeburg after her adventures and discovered that her arts league had marched on without her. Did they ever! First the July orchestra concert, and now this staging of the greatest of oratorios, which did a lot to fill a void in her heart.

  She was glad that Marla wasn't so traditional that she staged the work in the original voicing and instrumentation. Mary had never been fond of the massive performances that had been so common at one time-three hundred voice choirs, and the like-but she did like something larger than the sixteen singers and twenty instrumentalists that were what Handel-no, Handel, must get that right-had used in the original performances. The fuller sound was appropriate.

  Mary shook her head. Enough thinking, woman. Listen to the music. She abandoned herself to the sound of the finest of the tenor selections of the work, letting the sheer beauty of it drive every thought from her mind.

  ***

  The evening progressed. The opening chorus "And the Glory of the Lord" was received well by the audience-as it should have been, Master Giacomo decided. The voices were so together as to sound as if they were produced by one throat. Hearing the music like this had so much more impact and beauty even than the recordings that he had heard in Grantville. No matter how beautiful the sound of the recording, it was not the same.

  This was the future! This was what he was working for, why he had accepted the challenge from the royal family of establishing the Royal Academy of Music-to bring this music to the world.

  ***

  Dietrich Fischer stepped back into the ranks of the men. His basso had been appropriately profundo on "Thus Saith the Lord, the Lord of Hosts" and "But Who May Abide the Day of His Coming." His huge voice had almost made the audience's curls wave, Franz thought to himself. No wonder Master Andrea had worked so much with him.

  The chorus "And He Shall Purify the Sons of Levi" went well, with the appropriate parts light and dancing as Marla had drilled into the singers. He smiled a little as he led them, having a brief flash of the rehearsal where she had compared the singers to heavy-footed dancers.

  Wilmod Eichelberger, the twelve year-old boy who had earned the contralto solos-much to everyone else's surprise-stepped forward to sing "O Thou That Tellest Good Tidings to Zion". Some of the women in the alto section had resented that choice at first, but by now all were behind him. Franz suppressed a wince when he recalled what Andrea Abati had said about the boy: "If young Wilmod had been born in Italy, he would have been a gentilhuomo of some note." That was high praise from the sometimes acerbic Italian; high praise, indeed. But it still hurt to think about.

  Franz caught Wilmod's glance, raised his baton, and cued the orchestra for the beginning of the recitative and solo.

  ***

  "… the Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace."

  Marla took a deep breath as the choir released the last note and the orchestra finished the conclusion to "For Unto Us a Child Is Born." So far everything had gone well. Next up was the "Pifa", or "Pastoral Symphony." After the opening "Sinfonia", it was the only purely orchestral selection in the work. Its placement in the work was fortunate, coming as it did after the longest choral section. It gave all the singers a chance to catch their breaths, especially she and Andrea, who would be singing solos after the "Pifa" was done.

  The orchestra was doing a superb job on this, she noted with a slight smile. But then, if there was any one section that they should play perfectly, it should be this one. When Franz had told her of what happened on the day when the players had tried to slough their way through the "Pifa", she hadn't known how to react. Did she go strangle some players, did she remonstrate with Franz for being so harsh with them, or did she chew her nails about something like that coming up so late in the rehearsal process? In the end, she had settled on feeling very proud of how Franz had handled the whole thing. It showed a mature grace that she wasn't sure she could have measured up to.

  Oops, that was the end of the "Pifa." Time to sing again.

  ***

  Mary almost licked her lips in anticipation as the performance progressed. There was a cluster of soprano recitatives and ariosos after the "Pifa." Andrea stepped forward to sing them. The last of the soprano ariosos led directly into the chorus "Glory to God in the Highest," one of the brightest of the choruses that was just full of energy. With a bit of a musical joke, the chorus stopped several measures before the end, and the orchestra parts dwindled to just a few short chords played pianissimo.

  Andrea and Marla exchanged places. The orchestra played the introductory measures and Marla began "Rejoice Greatly, O Daughter of Zion", one of the two greatest soprano airs of the work. She had done it during her recital last year, but as Mary just bathed in the music, it seemed as if this performance was even more… she searched for a word… brilliant, perhaps, like a jewel that had been cut and polished to its finest potential. There was no doubt in Mary's mind now that Marla would be a force in the music of Europe for years to come.

  This performance was undoubtedly bravura, and when it came to an end Mary clapped along with the others.

  ***

  And so the evening went. Master Carissimi was almost enthralled as the various choruses, airs, recitatives and ariosos followed one another through the course of the performance. He drank it all in, rising with the music until he felt as if he were floating. After an intermission of a few minutes, they moved steadily through Part II, of which he thought the high point was the very fine performance of the air "Why Do the Nations so Furiousl
y Rage" by the young bass Dietrich Fischer. He found the nature of that particular text more than a bit ironic given the times, which drew a bit of a smile from him. Still, it was now very apparent why Andrea truly wanted to take this man under his wing.

  ***

  Marla took a deep breath as Archard finished the air "Thou Shalt Break Them With a Rod of Iron". She had organized this performance of Messiah along traditional lines, omitting the handful of sections or portions of sections that were not usually performed even during 'full' performances of the work and keeping to the traditional order and sequence of the sections. However, she had made one significant change: she had moved the "Hallelujah" chorus from the end of part II-directly after the solo that Archard was even now completing-to the end of the entire work. She had her reasons, which were based on something she had told no one. She suspected that Mary Simpson might guess.

  There would be another short intermission, then it would be time for her to step forward again to open Part III.

  ***

  Master Carissimi closed his eyes as Marla began to sing.

  "I know that my Redeemer liveth,

  And that He shall stand at the latter day

  Upon the earth."

  The purity of her tone always amazed him, just as the timbre of her voice always enraptured him. If ever there was a golden voice, if ever God had so blessed someone, it was this voice, this young woman. La fiamme sacre -the sacred flame, that was all he could call it. The touch of God on her.

  "… and He shall stand at the latter day upon the earth, upon the earth:"

  Here was no showpiece. Marla sang with some intensity, true, but it was a quiet intensity. There was a slight smile on her face, Giacomo noted, but her voice floated effortlessly. It was almost as if music was simply arriving in the air by Divine providence.

  "And though worms destroy this body,

  Yet in my flesh shall I see God,

  Yet in my flesh shall I see God."

  Ah, Giacomo thought to himself. He understood something now, tonight, which he had not observed before. Here and now, Marla was singing not just words, not just a song, but her belief as well. How beautiful, to hear someone-even though a Protestant-sing in such a way that everyone who heard knew without a doubt that she believed what she was singing.

  "For now is Christ risen,

  For now is Christ risen from the dead,

  The first-fruits of them,

  Of them that sleep."

  The air came to an end, Marla's voice finally concluding as it floated over the strings. They carried on for a few more measures to finish in a quiet chord. Marla stepped back into her place, the audience quiet in its place, subdued by the quiet piety they had just experienced. Giacomo opened his eyes again with a beatific smile. La fiamme sacre indeed.

  ***

  Mary listened as the performance approached its conclusion after Marla's exquisite performance of "I Know That My Redeemer Liveth." Section followed section. That amazing young bass hammered "The Trumpet Shall Sound." Moments later, the boy alto-where did Andrea Abati find these people?-teamed with the tenor to sing "O Death, Where is Thy Sting?". That in turn led directly into the chorus "But Thanks Be to God", another of those joyful choruses which Handel was so adept at crafting.

  Speaking of Andrea, he sang the final soprano air, "If God Be for Us," and did superbly-of course.

  Chorus followed chorus followed chorus, until they at last arrived at the final section of the work: the "Hallelujah" chorus.

  Mary gripped her hands together as the orchestra began. The custom she had known from up-time was not valid here in Magdeburg, but she though she knew what was in Marla's mind. Only moments were left to see if her thinking was good.

  ***

  "Hallelujah! Hallelujah!…"

  The end was in sight for Marla. It had been a long evening; almost three hours since they began, at least two and one-half hours of performing. Fortunately, none of them had been singing that entire time, but it was still hard work. Now if only…

  ***

  "For the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth…"

  It might be just the setting, Mary thought, but this was one of the most stirring performances of Messiah she had ever seen. The chorus was incredibly powerful for no larger than it was. There was no perhaps to it, she was being touched by tonight's work as much as she had ever been.

  Despite water in her eyes, she was watching an area in the seating that Marla kept glancing at.

  ***

  "The kingdom of this world is become,

  The Kingdom of our Lord,

  And of His Christ…"

  Master Schutz was sitting straight now, eyes open, listening to the great work as if it was a word from God… which, in one form or another, it was. His original expression of determination had changed over the course of the evening, moving through pleasure and joy to one that verged on awe. The up-time books had called him the Father of German music, so in a way what he was hearing, what was pouring through his body, was a child of his work, crafted somehow 120 years in his future, and brought to him by Grantville from a time over twice that again. His eyes filled with tears.

  ***

  "And He shall reign forever and ever…"

  Marla had made sure that her position in the chorus allowed her to watch a portion of the seating without losing sight of Franz. The song was almost half over, and nothing.

  The tenors came in with their heroic entry in this section, followed by the altos, who were in turn followed by the sopranos.

  "King of Kings, and Lord of Lords,

  King of Kings, and Lord of Lords…"

  The sopranos were beginning what Marla had always thought of as climbing the ladder, repeating the King of Kings line over and over, raising the pitch a step every time, unison with the high trumpet.

  The movement, when it happened, was so slight she almost missed it. It took a moment to dawn on her that Princess Kristina was standing. Standing!

  The sopranos continued to climb.

  "King of Kings, and Lord of Lords,

  King of Kings, and Lord of Lords…"

  Higher they climbed, sounding with the trumpets and supported by the lower voices.

  "… and Lord of Lords…"

  Finally, on the last rung of the climb, it happened.

  ***

  Mary gasped when she saw Gustavus Adolphus stand to his feet. It had happened! She shot to her feet, followed a moment later by the rest of the audience. Mary was smiling at what had just happened. A correlation between a future German who was undoubtedly butterflied out of existence now, George II of England, and the master of northern Europe, Gustavus. Oh, sure, the story of George being so moved upon hearing Messiah's "Hallelujah" chorus that he stood was probably apocryphal, but it was such a lovely legend. And here, now, it was fact, not legend… with the note that it was the princess who led her father.

  ***

  Joy shot through Marla when she saw the king climb to his feet and set his hand on his daughter's shoulder. He stood there, tall and straight, a sober expression on his face, as the chorus continued praising the God that he claimed to serve.

  Marla's mind was so full of happiness that she almost lost track of the words. She did kind of hiccough one, which earned her a sidelong glance from Master Andrea. He would undoubtedly have words for her about that one at her next lesson.

  The king stood!

  It was a seal on their work. It was a seal on the up-time music. It was the capstone of everything she had been trying to do, and it meant that all of it, music, women musicians, now had visible royal approval. Suddenly, the future looked both brighter and easier.

  Marla abandoned herself to the music with elation.

  "And He shall reign forever and ever,

  Forever and ever, forever and ever,

  Hallelujah, Hallelujah,

  Hallelujah, Hallelujah,"

  "Hal – le – lu – jah!

  ***

  Turn Your Radio On, Episo
de Two

  Wood Hughes

  Chapter Four

  "Good morning, Europe. Guten Morgen, Europa! You're listening to Voice of America as we begin another broadcast day from our studios on Mountaineer Lane in Grantville, New United States. Today is September tenth, Gregorian; August thirty-first Julian and at the tone it will be five thirty Grantville Standard Time."

  September 1632, Grantville, New United States

  It wasn't on a fancy cul-de-sac. Rather, the house was at the dead end of a one-lane paved street where the hills had become so steep that the road builders gave up. Before the Ring of Fire, the small, cedar-shanked, one and a half story house with a basement opening up to the valley below had been distinguished only by being where strangers occasionally had to pull into the driveway to turn around or just start backing up. Now, on that red siding below the front porch, someone had painted around the two diamond shaped basement windows in red, white, and blue, star spangled Gothic lettering, "VOA-650" with "Voice of America" spelled out in foot-high black block lettering underneath.

  A hundred-foot-tall steel tower stood high on the hilltop behind the back yard, looking very much like the cellular telephone relay tower it had begun life as. In other relatively level parts of the yard, men and women were busy building new buildings to house new projects for this bustling new world.