Read Online 1635: Music and Murder by David Carrico - Free Book Online Page A

doing!
    Franz remembered shuddering as he looked around to make sure that Marla was not in ear-shot. From the expressions on their faces, Thomas and Friedrich had been thinking much the same thing. Together they faced forward and glared at the Tuchmans, who had been the most outspoken in their opinions. Franz had started to speak, but Thomas held up his hand and Franz swallowed his words.
    "I make allowances," Thomas had said sternly, "for the fact that you do not know Fräulein Marla. I also agree that a woman musician is most unusual, although perhaps not strictly unknown. However, I strongly urge you to keep the words you have just said behind your teeth in the future.
    "Let me make it clear to you: you will accord to Fräulein Marla the minimum respect you would grant a visiting doyen or master. You will find that she is worthy of it."
    "And what if we do not?" Josef had asked, almost sneering.
    Three faces had glowered in return, and Josef's face went blank
    "You will not be allowed to learn from her," Franz had said finally. "And there is no one else to learn from, for Master Wendell has said that this is to be her work."
    "Well, will she go all faint and quivery if I yell," Hermann had demanded, "or, God forbid," going falsetto, "I should be vulgar in her presence?" He had looked very nonplussed as Franz, Friedrich and Thomas had burst into laughter.
    "No," Franz had choked, fighting down the mirth, "she is no wilting flower. She will assuredly deal with you as you are." Sobering quickly, he had reiterated, "She is worthy of your respect." Hermann looked at the brothers and shrugged, and they all nodded.
    Franz felt Isaac nudge him, and he came back to the present quickly, noticing that the room had gone quiet. Marla's eyes were drilling into him. "Excuse me," he said.
    "You with us now?" Marla asked sharply.
    "Yes."
    "English or German?"
    She was asking what language this day's discussion would be held in. They had adopted the practice of alternating between the two to strengthen Marla's command of German and help the others improve their English.
    "English," Franz said, and his heart beat faster as she rewarded him with one of her glorious smiles.
    "Good," she said. "That's the first thing that's gone my way today." She glanced at the door, then back at the others. "We're going to have guests today. Elizabeth Jordan, one of my former voice teachers, has made contact with a couple of Italians who wish to join us today. One is a musician—a composer, I believe—and the other is a craftsman of some kind. They should be here any . . . ah, and here they are now."
    The door to the choir room opened, and a short, slightly plump woman entered, followed by a short man in a black cassock. Franz didn't quite goggle at him, but was taken back a bit. One did not ordinarily expect that mode of dress in Grantville, or at least not in the high school. A Catholic cleric of some kind, possibly.
    The third member of the party was somewhat larger, but definitely not of a size to stare Thomas eye to eye. Franz estimated he was about his own height. He moved with some grace, but was obviously not a courtier. He must be the artisan that Marla had mentioned.
    "Elizabeth, you're just in time." Marla stepped forward and shook hands with her former teacher. "Please, introduce your guests."
    "This is Maestro Giacomo Carissimi and Signor Girolamo Zenti, all the way from Rome." Each man nodded slightly when his name was called; Carissimi stiffly, as if he wasn't comfortable, and Zenti with a slight, crooked smile on his face. "The maestro has come in search of knowledge about our music, and Signor Zenti looks for knowledge about musical instruments. When you told me yesterday what you would be discussing today, I knew they would both find it of interest."
    "Thank you for coming," Marla said, offering her hand. Carissimi hesitated, then reached out and shook it quickly, releasing it at once. Zenti in turn took her hand, and instead of shaking