Ring of Fire II(98)
Gunther rubbed his throat, coughed experimentally and decided that things were where they belonged. "Fraulein Linder . . ." he said as she started to turn away.
"Call me Marla, Gunther."
He wondered why the brief smile flashed across Franz's face, but continued on with, "Would you sing the song for us?"
Franz was almost astounded at the nerve of Gunther Achterhof. To ask Marla to sing after such a thing happening! He opened his mouth to let the man know that, regardless of who he was, he had no right to ask Marla to sing for him or anyone else right now. Before he could speak, he heard Marla say, "Yes."
"Marla!" Now Franz was truly shocked.
"It's okay, Franz," she said. "Tonight I need it just as much as they do." The level stare from her blue eyes and the firm tone told him that it would be fruitless to argue further, so he sighed and followed her and their friends back to their table.
During the summer, as their circle of friends had performed the Irish music at the Gardens and elsewhere, they noticed that the members of the Committee of Correspondence quickly developed a real affinity for the Irish songs of rebellion. "The Rising of the Moon" became one of their favorites, and they would roar the words right along with Marla or Isaac as they sang. But there was another song that they asked for, over and over again. It got to the point that they just began asking for "The Song." It was one of those for which Marla had adapted the lyrics. It wasn't one of the bouncy, catchy ones; in fact, it was rather grim. They would never sing along with it, but every time they heard it, the CoC people seemed to condense and become almost all edge. Now, as Marla, Isaac and Rudolf readied themselves, the people of Magdeburg were about to hear for the first time what seemed to have become the CoC's anthem.
Isaac led off with a haunting line on his violin, almost a quiet wail. The room grew deathly still. Marla opened her mouth, and began to sing.
I sat within the valley green,
I sat me with my true love.
My sad heart strove the two between,
The old love and the new love.
The old for her, the new
That made me think on Deutschland dearly.
While soft the wind blew down the glade
And shook the golden barley.
Despite the softness of her tone, Marla's voice was very intense. It reached throughout the room, filling every nook and cranny, and it seemed to cast a spell. All were still. No one moved. No one did more than barely breathe. All in the room were focused on the tall young woman singing with the flute, violin and harp underlying her voice, pouring her heart and her talent and all of her emotions into the song.
'Twas hard the woeful words to frame
To break the ties that bound us.
But harder still to bear the shame
of foreign chains around us.
And so I said, the mountain glen
I'll meet at morning early.
I'll join the bold united men,
While soft winds shook the barley.
Earlier in the evening, Marla's voice had been warm, even inviting. Now, as she sang "The Song," it was just almost serene, with a purity of tone that was almost angelic, yet raising neck hairs all over the room. Franz shivered a little, knowing what was coming next.
'Twas sad I kissed away her tears,
My fond arms round her flinging,
When a foeman's shot burst on our ears
From out the wild woods ringing.
A bullet pierced my true love's side
In life's young spring so early.
And on my breast in blood she died,
While soft winds shook the barley.
A note of loss and grief had crept into Marla's voice, and almost they could hear the keening for the dead. By the end of the verse she sounded so forlorn that, despite himself, despite knowing the song intimately, Franz felt tears welling up in response.
The first two lines of the last stanza were snarled, and several of the hearers jumped.
But blood for blood without remorse
I've taken at Oulart Hollow.
The second two lines were sung quietly again, almost meditatively, but again with a forlorn note.
I've lain my true love's clay cold corpse
Where I full soon must follow.
Marla was giving the finest performance of this song that Franz had ever heard; far surpassing the recorded version she had learned it from. The final lines were so poignant, and Marla invested them with so much grief, that his heart ached within him.
Around her grave I've wandered drear,
Noon, night, and morning early,
With breaking heart whene'er I hear
The wind that shakes the barley.
No one stirred. No applause was given. Finally, through the moisture in his eyes, Franz saw Gunther give Marla a salute and slip out of the tavern.
Friday, October 21, 1633
Marla hammered out the final chords of the "Revolutionary Etude," bringing it to a driving finish. She held the final chord for a long moment, then released the keys and sat back on the bench, smiling. "Well," she said to herself—or so she thought—"that wasn't too bad."