by Eric Flint
Isaac turned white, starting to waver. Franz reached out and grasped his elbow to steady him.
The other man looked concerned. "Yitzhak, I have wronged you. I. .. was so certain that I was right in my plans for you. I was furious when you would not obey me. I was blind to see that I could not make you be anything other than what the Holy One, Blessed be He, had shaped you to be. I thought you were rebellious, and on that night.. . I was infuriated. I said words that no father should say to a son." The man, obviously Isaac's father, looked down at the ground, then back up with an earnest expression on his face. "As the greater fault was mine, I acknowledge that fault. I ask your pardon." He opened his arms. "Will you be restored to your family, my son?"
Isaac was trembling under Franz's hand. Slowly, he moved forward. Then, with a sudden rush he fell into his father's arms. "Avi, Avi."
His father folded his arms around Isaac in a fierce embrace, closed his eyes and bowed his head to lean against his son's, whispering softly to him. The woman, who must have been his mother, smiled a tender smile and rested a hand on Isaac's back. The other member of the group exchanged a smile of satisfaction with Don Francisco.
After a moment, Isaac straightened and pulled away. "My friends, I would like you to meet my father, Rabbi Shlomo ben Moishe of Aschenhausen, my mother Rivka, and Joachim ben Eleazar, the president of our community. Father, these are my very good friends, Franz Sylwester and his wife Marla."
"So," Rabbi Schlomo said. "You are musicians, yes?"
"That's right, sir," Marla replied.
The rabbi looked surprised at her response, but cleared his throat and continued. "Is my son a good musician?"
"Absolutely, sir." Franz smiled. "One of the best."
"Good, good." Rabbi Shlomo turned to Isaac. "But you should be the best, nu?"
Isaac laughed. "Yes, Father. I will try harder."
***
Franz watched as another stranger approached. The young man had diffidently entered the room after the concert was over and hovered around, walking a few steps one way, then back. After talking to one of the ushers briefly, he had focused on Franz, once or twice starting toward him but then pulling back. Franz judged him to be about thirty, maybe a little younger. He was dressed reasonably well, but certainly not as a member of the Hoch-Adel. He was now obviously determined on talking to them, so Franz stopped and waited for him.
"Good day, Herr Sylwester."
"Good day."
"I have heard of your offer for musicians, and I have come to find a place with them, if I may." The man stood straight, and looked Franz in the eye.
"There are a few places left. Where are you from, and what do you play?" "Most recently from Schweinfurt, although I have played in several of the towns of Thuringia. As to instruments, I play all of the common stringed instruments with some level of skill, but my best is the king of instruments, the organ."
He certainly seemed to not be burdened with false modesty. On the other hand, there was no air of braggadocio… he apparently was reciting what he considered to be fact. Franz could accept that.
"And you are?"
Now the stranger was flustered. "I am sorry; I have left my manners at home. You must think me very rude. My name is Bach, Johann Bach."
Franz and Marla looked at each other, and smiled.
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-f88103-c604-0141-9aac-9c0d-ea06-943936
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 09.10.2010
Created using: Fiction Book Designer software
Document authors :
Source URLs :
About
This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.
(This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)
Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.
(Эта книга может содержать материал который защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственности за его использование)
http://www.fb2epub.net
https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/
