A LITTLE MORE NIGHT MUSIC

Updated Sunday 15 May, 2011 12:18 PM

by Thomas Wm. Hamilton

"Mr. Levecq, Mr. Levecq!" The cadet who handled the mail at North Shore Military Academy was perpetually excited.

"What is it, Morris?" The school's long time band master (very long time: 1997 to 2009, 1770 to the present year of 1791) was less excitable.

"You have a package from Vienna, I think. The package is all in German. It looks like something called Artaria Verlag sent it. And the Commandant got a letter from President Washington."

"Well, let's allow the Commandant to deal with his mail, and let me have mine."

The cadet handed Levecq his bundle. Levecq was delighted to see that it was indeed from the well-known Viennese publisher. He opened the package carefully. "The printed score for Mozart's Quintet in D for Strings. How wonderful. We have first edition scores for over four hundred of Mozart's works." He reached for his well worn copy of Koechel. "593. We won't be getting too many more Mozarts."

"Why not, sir?"

"Because he dies in December. Terrible loss, the poor man won't even be 37 years old."

"That's awful, sir. I know Mozart's a really important musician. Can't we do anything to keep him healthy?"

"You know that the academy's policy is to create as few waves as possible. Especially in Europe, at least until Napoleon sells Louisiana."

"That's dumb. Napoleon's in France, and Mozart's in Vienna. How could saving the life of a musician in Vienna affect what a Frenchman is going to do?"

"No one can tell, that's why we stay out."

Morris shook his head, clearly dissatisfied. With most cadets it would have ended there. But Morris was excitable. And as mail clerk, he had many outside contacts, including alumni. Some of those alumni were themselves involved in music.

Meanwhile, in the Commandant's office, Gen. Gryffyth was looking at Washington's letter with much less pleasure. His assistant, the Headmaster, Assistant Headmaster, and Sheila Shenburg, a former history professor, were present, along with two neighbors who had been elected to join the group running the community of misplaced time travellers.

"President Washington says that what he calls Barbary pirates have been attacking American ships because Congress refused to pay them tribute. He wants us to provide some artillery aboard a ship to be sent to the North African coast to teach them a lesson."

Shenburg nodded. "It turned into an undeclared war, with Tripoli capturing an American warship, the Philadelphia. Stephen Decatur became a national hero by going ashore and burning it, although I think that came while Jefferson was President. America responded, but I don't know if it would be safe for us to participate now."

Lou Mackenzie, a night club owner turned politician in the Twenty First, and now the proprietor of a popular tavern on the turnpike, suggested, "The more we do for Washington, the more likely he is to do what we want. America's going to have to mix it up with these scumbags anyway from what Sheila says, so why not help when we can, just like in the Revolution?"

Col. Bacon said, "This is the first time he's asked for our help since the war. Can we really turn him down?"

"This could have a lot more impact on European events than his having Dan Howard up at West Point starting a national military academy. Living in our enclave with a television channel and a radio station makes Eighteenth Century atavisms like pirates so unreal." Carl Mendham was cautionary.

"I lean towards helping. If we do soften up the pirates, all it will do is make things temporarily easier for Napoleon. Didn't he get his career started in North Africa?"

Headmaster Rollandson surprised everyone: he was usually dead set against getting involved. Janet Grasso provided her usual detailed lawyerly analysis, touching upon the legal status of pirates and privateers in the Eighteenth, Nineteenth, and Twenty First Centuries well past the point where anyone else cared. She tended towards being pedantic, since she could not practice her profession on the outside.

Following further discussion, it was decided to ask for volunteers capable of handling the school's artillery pieces, and offering to mount up to four on each of two naval vessels if there were enough volunteers.

A simultaneous meeting was being held in the home of a 1783 graduate of NSMA. "I called all of you here after getting a phone call from a cadet at the school today. Mr. Levecq is collecting first editions of Mozart's music because Mozart is supposed to die later this year."

There were various expressions of dismay. Ed Stahl, a former band company commander and trumpeteer, had invited alumni he knew to be addicted to classical music. One, Pete Schmidt, even hosted a CM program on the radio station. He spoke, "That's unfortunate, but I already knew that. December 5, 1791 in Vienna, cause argued about but probably rheumatic fever."

"I thought he was murdered," said Karl Reese, a clarinettist.

Several people shouted out responses. Stahl overrode them to say, "That was just a silly piece of fiction someone in the Twentieth wrote."

Pete Schmidt added "Mozart was sickly most of his life. He had small pox, tonsillitis, all sorts of stuff."

"Regardless," said Reese, "are you about to suggest what I think you are?"

"Well, why not save his life? It's not as though we would be doing anything that affects politics, or endangers the Louisiana Purchase. That seems to be about all the big guns care about."

This meeting ended with no decision. Various people were asked to research ways one or more of them could get to Vienna without getting the Academy's "big guns" alerted, and to find out how to treat rheumatic fever.

The following day a general announcement was put out to everyone from the Twenty First, whether NSMA alumni or neighbors, asking for volunteers to man the artillery for naval action against pirates and their backers. Those interested in helping Mozart held another meeting.

Several with experience with artillery and having studied German had their names forwarded for the naval action, after obtaining their wives' approval.

By early April the artillery had been loaded aboard the US Congress and the US Liberty. The Congress had started as a British ship of the line, and the Liberty as a British frigate.

Both were captured when Boston fell to American forces following the disastrous British defeat caused by the introduction of NSMA's advanced weapons at the Battle of Bunker Hill. For the assault on the Barbary pirates, the Congress would be commanded by Commodore Edward Preble, the Liberty by Capt. Andrew Perkins, an NSMA graduate. While the elected Congress had not authorized the purchase or construction of additional ships, Washington and some like-minded of his colleagues had managed to preserve the nucleus of a Navy. This nucleus was well armed for a confrontation. The ship of the line had 56 conventional cannon, and five howitzers. The frigate had three howitzers, plus eighteen conventional cannon of the day.

Commodore Preble watched the loading of ammunition for the howitzers. Major Stahl, in charge of the personnel manning the howitzers, stood next to him, along with Capt. Perkins. Preble turned to Stahl, and said, "I see you have a darky helping with the loading operation. Do you intend to take him with you?"

Stahl blinked, puzzled, and looked at the men doing the loading. "Oh, you mean Sergeant Green. Sure, he'll be with us, Commodore. He'll be one of the loaders for our howitzers."

"I suppose that as long as he sticks with your group, there won't be any problems."

"Problems? He's second generation NSMA, and his father was largely responsible for clearing all the Tories and half the slaves from North Carolina. You'll notice that he's separating the different types of things we'll be firing at the pirates. They're all color coded."

Preble chose not to start an argument with what the President had told him would be a crucial element of his forces. Instead of responding the way he instinctively wished, he said, "How is your color-coded ammunition different from an ordinary cannonball?"

Perkins started to answer, but caught himself as Stahl said, "We have several types of shells. Each howitzer will have one hundred explosive shells, a hundred anti-personnel shells that spread shrapnel, a hundred incendiaries that are packed with a jelly-like substance called napalm that sticks to almost everything and burns hot, and twenty shells with a poisonous gas. Each type of shell has a different color, so we don't get confused about which one we're using."

"That should be enough for our mission." Preble hesitated, then continued, "Having military personnel aboard Navy ships is as unorthodox as when I commanded a Coast Guard cutter. But as President Washington insisted, it is the mission that counts. I understand the pirates are holding half a dozen Americans to ransom, and have enslaved a dozen or more whom they did not deem worthy of ransom."

Preble invited the two officers to his cabin for a longer discussion of training and other matters. While Perkins had a slight acquaintance with the other two, Stahl and Preble were strangers to one another, and Preble wanted to gain some idea of the officer who would be semi-independent under his command--an officer who came from that source of rumor and legend, the North Shore Military Academy, with nearly forty men under his command on the two ships.

The ships sailed from New York Harbor on April 20. A week into the voyage Stahl called a meeting of some select members of his crew in his cabin. "You ten are the ones interested in saving Mozart. We can't have the lot of you descending on Vienna, it's not necessary, and would attract unwanted attention. If we hold it down to three or four, I may be able to cover your disappearance. Now, who knows German?"

Seven claimed to have studied German. One said, "If we're headed to North Africa, I don't see how we can get to Vienna."

"Don't worry about that. Preble has orders that if we're successful in Algiers, he's to make a visit to various ports around the Med, showing the flag. If that doesn't happen, I'll arrange for you guys to be made part of the prize crew for some captured ship, and you can sail to a convenient port yourselves. Either way, since Vienna isn't a port city, you'll have to travel overland to get there."

Stahl was no German linguist either, but he pulled out a German book, and passed it around to be read from out loud. After long arguments, three were chosen to go to Vienna, with one as a back up in case anything happened to one of them during the fighting with pirates. Preble was under orders to be courteous initially. The ships sailed into Algiers harbor on June 19. Preble, Perkins and Stahl went to meet the Bey in his castle. The route from dockside to the castle took them through the souk, or marketplace.

Some merchants protected their goods with awnings, while others were open to the air. Vegetables, fruits, live fowl, goats, ropes, sheep, cloth, jewellery, oil lamps, artefacts for several religions, unidentifiables, horses, even people were for sale. Smells from cooking meats and spices mixed with smells created by the live horses and other animals. Merchants tried to attract their attention in several languages. At a couple points Stahl surreptitiously used a concealed video camera to record the scene for later broadcast back home. Perkins distracted Preble at such times. In the castle the Bey received them in his version of a throne room. Preble presented him with some gifts, including an Iroquois wampum belt, matched flint lock pistols, and an exquisite silver bowl created by Paul Revere himself.

The Bey stared curiously at the wampum and said something. A translator said, "His Excellency wishes to know what is this beaded thing?"

Commodore Preble gave slight bow, and said, "This is a very valuable object created by the Iroquois, a ferocious and talented people of my land. It is called wampum, and is used as a form of money."

The Bey flicked a finger against the silver bowl, which rang sweetly. He spoke again. The translator said, "His Excellency appreciates the quality of the silver bowl, but he doubts he will be able to use this wampum to purchase anything from our local merchants."

Preble was a bit taken aback at this, but Perkins said, "Ah, but might His Excellency not possibly be interested in trade with America? The wampum would buy much from the Iroquois or those they trade with."

For an hour they engaged in similar back and forths before finally getting to the point. The Bey offered to have any and all Americans freed for a flat price of $250,000, and no further interference with shipping upon payment of $60,000 in gold a year.

Preble replied, "The price for not interfering with shipping is the same as past offers, which our elected Congress refuses to pay."

"But surely," said the translator, "that is far less than the cost of even one lost ship, and you have been losing three or four ships a year."

Stahl said, in a voice he deliberately made sound gravely, "Piracy is a crime. Promoting or encouraging it through payments is also a crime. The United States intends to end criminal behavior, not encourage it."

The translator turned pale, and choked. Finally he said, "I cannot say that to His Excellency! He would have me whipped for saying that."

Preble smiled slightly. "Tell him that I bear the offer of a treaty of friendship and trade if he will end seizure of American ships and free any seamen held in Algiers."

Before the translator could say anything, the Bey spoke to him. The translator replied, clearly upset. The Bey pressured him. Perkins said in a low voice, "This might be an appropriate time to mention I had two years of Arabic at NSMA. I can't follow them perfectly, but the Bey seemed to pick up on Major Stahl's saying something the translator left out, and he's trying to get it out of him."

Preble replied, "One of these days I'm going to find out all about that school of yours. Arabic in an American school!"

The Bey suddenly roared in anger. The translator said, "He is ordering you to leave. Do not return until you are prepared to pay $80,000 a year for your ships to be left unmolested."

As they marched out, Stahl turned, and said in a deep voice, "We'll be back." There was the slightest hint of an Austrian accent. Perkins snorted to hide his laugh. Preble just nodded sternly.

The ships left Algiers Harbor. They sailed about thirty miles away, and off-loaded Perkins and his Marines. The Marines were to march through the desert and attack Algiers City one hour after dawn on June 21. During the intervening time the two ships attacked and captured four Algierian merchant ships. Late on the 20th, five warships came out to attack them. Preble examined them through his spyglass, and turned to Stahl. "Major, I believe we could take these ships just with our conventional armaments. However, we are here to impress these barbarians, and your weapons should do a quick job of that."

"Aye, sir, and thanks for the confidence." Stahl turned. "Batteries two and three, fire one ranging shot each. If the results are unsatisfactory, fire a second." Back to Preble, he said, "The ranging shots are fairly harmless unless they land on someone's head, but they weigh the same and have the same shape as our more deadly ammo."

He had barely said the word "ammo" when first one, and then the other howitzer fired. One shot created a neat splash about twenty yards from the lead Algierian ship. The second actually went through the jib sail and splashed some distance past its target. The ships were about 800 yards away. The Algierians held their fire, continuing to close with the Americans.

Stahl ordered, "Batteries two and three, one AP shell each." Back to Preble he said, "That's the anti-personnel shell. Lots of shrapnel flying around." One hit the foredeck of the lead Algierian ship just aft of the prow. The other hit the second ship on the starboard side near the foremast.

The lead enemy ship lost way, and with sails flapping wildly, drifted off at an angle. "We can pick them up later," Stahl commented to Preble. Then, concealing what he was doing, he spoke into his radio, commanding the frigate Liberty to commence firing. Preble meanwhile had the Congress swing across the wind. This allowed two howitzers that had been quiet to fire. Of the five would be attackers, one was drifting out of control, two were burning, and two had large explosions leave them either sinking or totally helpless. Preble commanded the Congress to pursue the out of control ship. As they drew alongside, the Americans swept it with small arms fire, then boarders were away.

The battle ended with one American suffering a broken arm boarding the captured ship.

There was no other casualties on the American side. A prize crew on the captured ship brought it with the Congress and Liberty into Algiers Harbor during the night. An hour before dawn all three ships began firing at the fortresses guarding the harbor and at the Bey's Palace. One fortress that was apparently a bit more solid returned fire despite being hit with numerous explosive shells. Stahl finally authorized the use of a single poison gas shell at this fortress. It fell silent soon thereafter. The naval attack ended 45 minutes after dawn.

Fifteen minutes later the Marines swept into town.

Noon, June 21. Preble, Stahl, and Perkins, together with a company of Marines, stood in the ruins of the Bey's Palace. The Bey accompanied them, draped in chains. His translator was also present.

"Tell the Bey," said Commodore Preble, wearing his full dress uniform, "that he will release all foreign captives, and pay an indemnity to the United States for the ships damaged or seized, of one million dollars in gold."

Following some conversation, at which Perkins grinned, the Translator said, "His Excellency defies all unbelievers. He will permit you to live if you leave now."

"Please keep the Bey informed of what I am ordering these Marines to do." Preble turned to the Marine Captain, and said, "Assign a squad to prepare a gibbet. After we hang this fool, your entire Marine company will strip what's left of the Palace of anything of value, and then burn the place. Kill anyone who tries to interfere. Then we will wipe Algiers off the face of the Earth. And have some salt pork brought ashore from the Congress. We'll stuff it in the Bey's mouth after he's hanged."

The Translator did his job. The Bey suddenly was gasping and gobbling something that made Perkins laugh out loud. "His Excellency, in the spirit of the mercy of Allah, has generously agreed to your proposed terms."

Preble did not bother replying directly, just giving instructions for collecting the gold and handling the freed prisoners. He planned to take his flotilla to Naples as part of the "show the flag" operation, giving time for word of what happened in Algiers to reach the other North African pirate states before he sailed into their harbors, again, interspersing this with visits to European ports.

When the Americans left Algiers, they had nine ships. Three were entirely crewed by liberated Europeans, and were allowed to sail off on their own. The remaining six ships, carrying loot from Algiers and nearly two dozen liberated Americans, headed for Naples as the first show the flag stop. Fourteen of the liberated Americans were added temporarily to the crews of the enlarged flotilla. Before the ships reached Naples, Stahl called another meeting in his cabin.

"This will be the opportunity for you three to head for Vienna. There are so many crew shifts from one ship to another, plus new people aboard, that I'm sure you won't be missed. Sgt. Kruger, you're the highest ranking and therefore in charge of this little escapade. Castillo, you've had the most training in medicine, so you're in charge of the medical supplies. Hartmann, basically you're the muscle for these two. Make sure Castillo gets as far as Vienna safely. And all three of you, remember, not so much as one hint of time travel; we're in enough trouble for this stunt if we're caught without having that complaint against us. You've got plenty of money, all the inoculations NSMA can provide, and some weapons. Kruger will carry a radio, and transmit at 10 p.m. daily to me on a pre-set frequency NSMA doesn't use. If you can't transmit at 10 p.m., I'll monitor for half an hour. If nothing comes through, I'll expect you at 6 a.m. the next morning. If I hear nothing for three days, I'll assume the mission failed and you are dead or held prisoner. If the mission is completed, proceed to the nearest convenient port and book travel for the States. We'll try to slip you back in without anyone noticing."

Since this was just a review of long set plans, everyone acknowledged understanding without asking any questions.

Naples smelled different than Algiers in some details, but just as strong, and with at least as much contribution from horses. In the confusion of shore leave, the Mozart contingent slipped away, seeking the best way to travel to Vienna. They were mildly surprised to discover there was a regular stagecoach route to Vienna. With stops in many towns along the way, the trip was expected to take nearly three weeks. This would get them into Vienna at the start of August, over a month before Mozart was recorded as taking ill.

The first problem was booking the stagecoach. While all three spoke passable German, they were in Italy, and none had any knowledge of that language beyond being able to say "pizza" or "calzone", not words particularly useful for the purpose. However, they discovered that the booking agent actually spoke German, so they booked for Vienna easily, until they offered him American money.

"Aber wenn Sie Amerikaner sind, warum sprechen Sie nicht Englisch?"

"Wir sprechen Englisch. Sprechen Sie auch Englisch?"

"Jawohl. Davon warum sprechen wir auf Deutsch?"

"Well, when we came in, you greeted us in German, so we continued in German."

"Ah," said the agent, finally lapsing into an English owing as much to London as to Naples, "I thought you looked German. So the Herren, scuse, gentlemen, wish to travel to Vienna. It is our pleasure." The rest of the procedure was completed in English, and they were booked to leave on a stagecoach departing in two days.

They used the time in Naples to be seen a couple times at each of the ships in Prebles' enlarged flotilla, just to confuse the issue when they might be missed. The problem with travel by stagecoach was that the things lacked any decent inner springs, and the roads were in significantly less good shape than when the Roman Empire had first laid them out. Still, at a rate of twenty to thirty miles per day, they gradually moved north through the Italian states towards the border of the Holy Roman Empire, an empire they were among the few to know was scheduled to vanish from history in just fifteen years. They were as cautious as possible about the food and drink along the way, but all three came down with the runs, not pleasing the stagecoach driver as he had to make many extra stops until finally insisting that they use the on board chamber pot.

Castillo managed to suppress the worst of their discomfort through use of some of the NSMA-provided medicine he carried, hoping his ultimate patient would not need it.

What would someday be part of Italy was still in the Empire, but finally they were in the Tirol, reaching the provincial capitol of Innsbruck in mid July. Sitting on the edge of town was a great palace, erected just a few years earlier for the Empress Maria Theresa. Kruger asked the few locals they came into contact with if they knew an Andreas Hofer, and ultimately found him with his young, pregnant wife Anna. Kruger suddenly realized he could hardly tell Hofer the improbable future that awaited him, and finally settled for saying in German, "Beware. Joseph Raffel will some day betray you."

Hofer and Kruger's two companions all stared at him in confusion, while Anna looked horrified.

Hofer finally said, "What are you talking about, foreigner?"

Mentally kicking himself for violating NSMA rules big time in front of two witnesses, Kruger finally said, "I am a soothsayer who can see men's fate. If you trust Joseph Raffel you will regret it. Farewell."

He walked swiftly away, followed by Castillo. Hartmann paused to say to the Hofers, "You'll have to pardon my friend. He thinks he has mystic powers, and has been doing this everywhere to strangers."

Anna replied, "Should we in fact beware of Herr Raffel?"

"That is up to you." Hartmann hurried away, but heard her call after him, "Ich vergess' nicht."

That night the trio stayed at an inn, the Goldene Dachl, taking a new stagecoach the next morning for the ride west to Vienna and Mozart. They got to sleep late, though, not as a criticism of the inn, but because Hartmann and Castillo were berating Kruger for his gratuitous interference. Hartmann started. "Who the hell is Hofer and why should he beware of this Raffel character?"

"My parents and I were in Innsbruck during the winter of 2008. I even got to tour that big palace of Maria Theresa we saw today, because it's a museum in oh eight. Anyhow, hanging in the museum is a painting, the execution of Andreas Hofer. It shows him looking noble, his wife crying, a little boy grabbing at his parents, and some villainous-looking French soldiers getting ready to kill Hofer. Napoleon's troops are going to occupy this town, and Hofer will organize an underground resistance movement. He'll be so successful that when he is finally captured by Joseph Raffel betraying him, Napoleon will personally order his execution. He's a hometown hero in the Twenty First."

Castillo yelled, "And you just had to interfere! You damned jackass, you're messing with Napoleon, the one guy everyone wants to leave alone so he'll be sure to sell Louisiana to the U.S. What happens if this Hofer character gets so successful he keeps the Frenchies out?"

"Calm down, the Louisiana Purchase was 1803. This stuff with Hofer comes later."

"Thank God for small favors." Hartmann shook his head. "Are you planning to interfere with Mozart more than saving his life?"

Kruger suddenly looked just a bit too innocent. "What do you mean by 'interfere'?"

"Son of a bitch! Gimme the radio, I want to discuss this with Stahl."

"Screw you, he'd probably abort the whole mission."

Castillo chimed in, "Maybe we should. This mission is ridiculous if you feel free to go out and do your thing all over the friggin' Holy Roman Empire. Half the rules that have been laid down were designed to avoid that, and the rest to keep our people from going out and setting up as emperors on their own. Or," he paused for a moment and stared at Kruger, "were you figuring on becoming emperor as a little side benefit to saving Mozart?"

"Don't be silly. Good God, all I did was warn Hofer. He may not even remember what I said when the time comes."

"Yeah, well, you damn well better believe we're going to remember. And keep an eye on you, just in case you try anything funny again."

The new stagecoach got them to Vienna in a few days without further problems. None of them had any idea where Mozart lived, but he was a well known figure. They found an inn near Mozart's home, and settled down. "Now that we're here," Castillo said, "how do we contact him? And will his wife give us as much of a problem as I got from mine when I told her I'd be away for a few months?"

Kruger shook his head. "His wife should be no real problem. He described her in a letter to his father when he first met her as a frivolous, light hearted thing, according to a collection of letters that was used in one of my German classes. I've been thinking, the best way to approach him is to admit we're Americans, and offer to pay him to compose something for us to take back. Even if that doesn't work out, it'll give us an excuse to work on him when he gets sick."

Hartmann said, "Won't having a new piece by Mozart change - - - oh." He joined in the laughter at himself. "That should be something Mr. LeVecq will appreciate--a new Mozart piece not in Koechel."

Castillo added, "Hey, why don't we get Mozart to dedicate it to Mr. LeVecq?"

Kruger shook his head. "Nice idea, but that would be about the same as a signed confession that we went directly against the rule against interference. They might even suspect we told Mozart about..." he hesitated, then finished, "TT."

"'TT'? Are you afraid of being overheard by someone who knows English?"

"Yeah, you're a fine one to talk after the stunt you pulled back in Innsbruck! Don't think we're forgetting that."

"I'm not suggesting anything. As for Mozart's work after December, if we aren't caught, or do something stupid like getting an autographed copy for Mr. LeVecq, it will be passed off as some sort of butterfly effect."

"Yeah, Stahl suggested that before we started. We damn well better hope so."

"Hey, another point--we can't give Mozart our right names, just in case it gets back."

"Damn, you're right. We should've thought of that before. Okay, I'm, um, Kramer, you're, let's say, Castro, and George will be Herr Hermann."

"If you're Kramer, I get to be Seinfeld."

"Schmuck, word gets back to the Academy, don't you think Kramer and Seinfeld would make them start an investigation as much as if we used Larry, Moe and Curly?"

"Oops, my bad. Castro it is, as long as we don't say Fidel."

"Same problem. I'll stick with our real first names just to be easier to remember."

The other two agreed, and the following day they went to the home Mozart rented. All three were quite nervous at this meeting. Kruger knocked. A woman answered the door.

"Ah, Frau Mozart, vielleicht?"

"Yes, what would you?"

"We are three Americans. We wish to ah--hire?--[Kruger remembered that the German for to hire was almost identical for the word to become engaged to, and tried his best to get it right] your husband to write a special piece of music."

"So! You are most welcome. Please come in." Turning, she called into the house, "Wolfgang, come here. It gives three men all the way from America who wish to pay you good money for a composition."

This brought the composer fairly quickly. "I am Wolfgang Mozart. And you are?"

Kruger said, "I am Charles Kramer. Here is Doctor Emil Castro, and Herr George Hermann."

Mozart repeated the names, not doing too badly with the English pronunciations. "And you have travelled all the way from America to have me write some simple ditty? I am most flattered. I understand your President Washington is a Mason, as am I. My chapter is dedicating a new temple in November, for which I have written a cantata. Would you want a cantata of your own? What is the use for your music? I am fairly busy, his gracious majesty Leopold II has me writing for his coronation, and my newest opera, Die Zauberfloete, has its premiere next month."

Mozart's eruption seemed not likely to end any time soon, but all three were (not that they would admit it) intimidated at meeting the composer. Constanze finally interrupted her husband.

"Wolfgang, you have not permitted the gentlemen to answer."

"Just so, excuse me, gentlemen. I do seem to talk more than needed. Please, tell me what you want."

"A friend of ours, Philip LeVecq, is a music teacher in America. He has been purchasing a copy of every piece you have published. As a gift to him, we would ask that you write a march, and never, ever permit him to know we were involved."

"He is to have an anonymous gift?"

"You could say that because he has purchased so many of your scores from so far away, you are rewarding him."

"Hmm, how soon would you need this?"

"January would be excellent."

"And you would pay how? I am not a bank, and can neither use nor exchange your American money."

"We will gladly exchange the money at a bank. Or if you prefer, we have a mix of gold coins from England, France, Spain, and the Empire. It is part of our share in teaching the pirates of Algeria to leave our ships unmolested."

"And to what value are these gold coins?"

"Well, the English gold comes to 800 guineas, and there are similar amounts in the other currencies."

"Ha! For that I can give you much more than a simple cantata for your music teacher. Please come inside so we can talk."

As they all walked into a sitting room, Constanze limped noticeably. Castillo said, "Excuse me, but I am a medical doctor. Why is the gracious lady limping?"

Constanze said, "I have a terrible sore on my ankle. It has been getting worse for some time. After we return from Prague, I am hoping to go to Baden for the spa to treat it."

"May I look at it?"

Constanze looked to her husband, who said, "You are a trained medical doctor?"

Castillo affirmed that he was, and his two companions backed him. Looking a bit dubious, Mozart slowly nodded. Castillo knelt next to Constanze as she sat and unwrapped a bandage.

The room filled with a nasty odor. Kruger said, "Herr Har--Hermann and I are not doctors. May we wait in another room?" Mozart waved them away, watching as Castillo first called for boiling water, and then after letting it cool a bit, washed off the ulcer. Opening his medical kit, he took out a pill box. Removing a pill, he had Constanze swallow it. Finally, he applied a dark fluid and covered the sore with a clean bandage. He stood.

"I do not have the materials to do a test with me, but it looks to me as though, well, let me say this. Your diet must change. No sugar or sweets, avoid beer, wine, schnapps, and the like, and very little fried foods. Keep this sore covered with clean bandages. You must first boil the bandages, let them dry in a clean place before putting them on. I give you some pills. Each day when you change the bandage, take one of these pills."

Mozart said, "You think all this will help?"

"If what I suspect is wrong, then what I have done and said will help."

"What is this pill?"

"It is called penicillin, and it is used for just the sort of infection your wife has,"

Constanze said, "Other doctors have looked, and said that my blood is bad, or I have a superfluidity of congested phlegm."

Castillo made a face. "Jackasses," in English. Reverting to German, he added "Stupid remarks like that just prove they don't know what they're doing. Look, we really want your husband to write something nice for our friend. No matter how much money we offer, would he do it if I harmed you?"

"You harm my Schatzl and you would learn the wrath of the Kommandatore in my opera 'Don Giovanni' is as nothing to the wrath I can show."

Castillo smiled and shook Mozart's hand. "Spoken as a true hero. Let us call my friends back in, that we may decide what you will write for us and what we will pay, while your wife heals. And," thinking quickly, "should you, mein Herr, fall ill, it would be my pleasure and my honor to treat you also."

Kruger and Hartmann returned. It was finally settled that Mozart would compose and send to Philip LeVecq at North Shore Military Academy in America a march, with a brief note of thanks for his faithful purchases. For this, Mozart would be paid the equivalent in gold coin of 750 guineas. The three Americans returned to their inn, tired but exuberant.

Castillo made a practice of visiting the Mozarts every day, treating Constanze's ankle and nagging her about her diet. With some modern medicine finally applied, plus a somewhat improved diet, the ankle began to show noticeable improvement. Once healing started to be obvious, Castillo was introduced to their older son, Carl, a seven year old.

The younger child, Franz, was just a few months old. Carl bowed politely to Castillo, and said gravely, "Herr Doctor Castro, I am very grateful to you for helping my mother. Her wound has been a great burden in caring for little Franz."

Castillo was a bit taken aback at such formality from so young a child, but remembered that Mozart probably was frequently visited by a number of prominent individuals whom Carl would have been taught early on how to behave with. He tried to discourage Constanze from travelling to Prague, but neither she nor her husband would consider such a thought. The coronation of a new Emperor, a festival performance for him of Don Giovanni and the premiere four days later of Clemenza di Tito was too much to miss. The Americans decided to caucus on whether to follow the Mozart family to Prague.

"It's true her ankle is healing," Castillo argued, "but you know as well as I that with all the feasting going on she'll be off the diet I gave her."

Hartmann added, "And it might be fun once in our lives to see a Mozart opera staged the way he wanted it."

Kruger said, "I'd agree with you on all that but for one major problem. NSMA sends out undercover teams to videotape stuff for broadcast. We all watched the fall of the Bastille a couple years ago on TV. Crowning Leopold the Second doesn't quite rate with that, but there can't be many more coronations for the Holy Roman Empire. I'm sure they'll have someone videotaping that, and maybe the opera, too. Imagine the effect of our being spotted by the crew, or worse yet, if we were videotaped!"

That was enough to discourage them from attending the coronation. Instead, for the three weeks that the Mozarts were out of town they relaxed and did some sightseeing in Vienna.

They also tracked down Haydn, who had recently settled in Vienna on the death of his patron Esterhazy. This, however, was only for curiosity, although they did purchase and have anonymously shipped to LeVecq at NSMA some of Haydn's works.

On September 30 Die Zauberfloete was to premiere. By mid September Constanze's ankle was much improved, with the ulcer considerably shrunk, and her pain much lessened. Mozart was so delighted that he invited all three Americans to accompany him to the theater where rehearsals were going on, and introduced them to a Herr Emanuel Schikaneder, a producer and theater owner. He also, it turned out, was something of a drinking buddy of Mozart's, and after rehearsals were done, the five went to a local Bierundweinstube for drinks. The three Americans each experimented with schnapps, and then concentrated on beer. Schikaneder asked, "Has America much of theater? We hear little of performances there?"

Kruger snorted contemptuously. "We had nothing before the war, and little has been done since."

Hartmann waved his stein in the air and proclaimed, "But we know we shall someday have the world's best theater. Even now we prepare." Castillo kicked him under the table.

Mozart laughed. "Such nationalist sentiment. I find you Americans refreshing. Perhaps we need an opera set in America."

"An interesting idea," said Hartmann. "You could have wild Indians, stout New England farmers, fishermen, Southern schweinhunden with slaves, Quakers, and every other sort of Christian known."

"Beautiful women who have not yet met the infamous Don Giovanni," Castillo offered.

Kruger belched and pompously declaimed, "Military heroes who defeated the evil British Empire."

"And," added Schikaneder, "ruling everything from behind the scenes, that mysterious military academy."

All three Americans suddenly sobered. "What," said Castillo, "are you talking about?"

"Ha, word has even reached far off Vienna that a mysterious military academy provided new and powerful weapons, as well as advice, in the recent war. It is said that the illustrious, late Dr. Franklin knew much but told little of their origins. What might you fellows know?" Mozart knocked back a schnapps.

Kruger shook his head. "I met Franklin once or twice, and he never mentioned this academy to me. I fear that probably something quite ordinary has developed as a much improved Kinder und Haus Maerchen in travelling across the ocean. Perhaps some of those worthless Hessians made up a tale to excuse their total inability to fight."

Mozart laughed even more. "'Worthless Hessians'! How delicious. Emanuel, don't you agree?"

Schikaneder looked up from his drink and agreed that was an amusing but valid way to describe Hessians. The conversation drifted onto less dangerous topics. When the evening finally ended, the Americans headed for their inn.

Mozart waited until they were well away, then turned to Schikaneder and said, "Did you notice anything interesting when you mentioned the mysterious military academy?"

"Nein. Ist etwas los?"

"I thought me the Americans seemed a bit tense. But let me tell you of something curious.

They are paying me to write a composition for the music teacher at their former school. A march. And their music teacher is at a military academy!"

"You would prefer they wished a cantata or oratorio? Do you really believe this mysterious academy would send three of its people here to have you write a march?"

"The march is to be sent with no mention of them as sources for the gift. Instead, I am to send it as a reward for his faithfully having ordered a copy of everything I write."

"That is curious."

"I believe they themselves are from this very same military academy, and their old music teacher is the master for its band."

"But have you not said how this Dr. Castro has helped your wife?"

"There is no conflict between being a doctor and being involved with a military academy. I shall be watching these Americans much more closely. I wonder what they really want."

"Have they yet paid you for the march you mentioned?"

"Half of a most generous fee."

"So. Accept their gold and be satisfied, my friend. Let us go to our homes, for tomorrow rehearsals continue." Mozart took the advice, still pondering their possible real intent.

The three Americans were very concerned about attending the premiere of Die Zauberfloete for the same reason they had avoided the coronation of Leopold II, a possible video team from NSMA. However, their absence would have been regarded most strangely by Mozart, and they really did wish to attend. They finally settled the issue by having Schikaneder place them in a dark corner, and arriving well ahead of the rest of the audience, during the last minute activities of cast and crew. As they waited, talking with one another, a man in clerical garb seated nearby asked in only mildly accented English if they were Americans. They acknowledged this, and he introduced himself as Lorenzo Da Ponte.

Hartmann exclaimed, "The librettist! Father, it's an honor to meet you," Da Ponte glowed with pride. "This is not, of course, one of mine, but I like to see what my colleagues are up to."

The other Americans finally placed Da Ponte, and began exclaiming over their love of the libretti he had done for Mozart. He smiled, and said, "Then you may be interested to know that we are discussing a new opera devoted to one of your countrymen, Dr. Franklin."

The three barely were able to avoid saying they had never heard of plans for such an opera. Later, back at their inn, they discussed this and decided it was either a butterfly effect of their presence or had been cut short by Mozart's death.

The month of October was taken up with Mozart completing the cantata for his Masonic temple, working on a requiem, and initial plans for the march for LeVecq. Castillo continued to monitor Constanze's ankle, which was nearly healed. Secretly he was keeping a close eye on Mozart's health, but he seemed to be fine. The two children appeared to be thriving.

On November 18 the new Masonic temple was dedicated, with Mozart's music part of the event. The next morning he awoke with a strep throat. Castillo, who had been coming by to check Constanze, had made certain to be present the morning after the Masonic event, since some histories listed this as the start of Mozart's final illness.

As Castillo gave her ankle a final look, he said, "And how goes the remainder of your esteemed family this chilly morning, Frau Mozart?"

"Ach, my husband has a sore throat, but he says it is unimportant and he will not stay abed."

"Not wise, not wise at all. I will see him now."

Mozart was not the most cooperative patient the world had known. "I will not take to bed.

The requiem must be completed, and the march you gentlemen have paid so generously for must be worked on. And there are other things. I had planned to see Fr. Da Ponte today about a new opera, and the Emperor wishes me prepare some chamber music for him."

Had Mozart not run out of breath, it seemed likely his list would have continued for hours.

"Now, now, Herr Mozart, I would not take the time away from you which would deprive the world of a single one of your beautiful notes. I just wish a quick look in your throat."

Mozart was at least as susceptible to flattery as the rest of mankind, and already had some regard for Castillo's abilities as a doctor, so he permitted the examination. Castillo looked, frowned, put a hand on Mozart's forehead, and then stuck a thermometer in his mouth. Mozart tried to say something, but Castillo said, "No, please wait. I need to check your temperature."

After taking the thermometer out and checking it, he muttered in English, "Son of a bitch, it's started."

Mozart knew enough English to say, "What has started? What are you doing?"

"Forgive me for being blunt, but you are seriously ill, and will be dead in little more than two weeks if not given treatment."

Constanze began weeping, which drew her older son into the room to see what was wrong.

The infant began to wail on general principles. Mozart drew a deep breath and responded "Scheissdreck und Pferdscheiss! This is nonsense! I have been ill many times and always survived. I know you have done well for my Constanze, but this threat is outrageous."

He ranted on for a while until Constanze threw herself on her husband. This had the effect of getting Carl to do the same. With his son and wife both holding him, Mozart calmed down.

"I'm sorry if what I said caused so much upset, but it's true. However, if you remember the small white pills I have been giving to Frau Mozart, you know they have cured her ankle. They can do the same for you. Here is what you must do, and Frau Mozart, please listen, so you may help your husband. Here is a bottle of the penicillin. Take two pills right now. And after that, take one pill every eight hours until you are well. After you take these first two pills, I want you to gargle with warm salt water to help your throat. You are to stay in bed, bundled up warmly, until I say you may go out. No beer, wine, schnapps or other alcohol. No one with any kind of illness, no matter how mild, is to be allowed in this house for any reason." Mozart looked rebellious, but was outnumbered, and soon was bundled away, protesting that he had to meet with Da Ponte and work on various pieces.

"The Emperor is expecting me to produce for him. The requiem must be completed. You are interfering with my work. This cannot be."

"The Emperor would be very disappointed if the requiem you are working on was for you. Now calm down, or I'll give you a sedative. If Fr. Da Ponte is healthy and willing to be a calm influence, he can meet with you here."

"Schweinerei! Constanze, send for Dr. von Sallaba. I will not tolerate this. Where is Dr. Closset?"

Constanze said, "Neither of those doctors did a thing for my ankle. Dr. Castro has cured it.

We know you have a sore throat. Let's not have it turn more serious. If Dr. Castro cannot help, there will be plenty of time to call the others." They finally got the pills down his throat, and then had him gargling unhappily. Following this, Castillo made him swallow two aspirin.

Castillo took Constanze into another room and said to her in a low voice, "Your husband is what doctors in America call a difficult patient. Not his illness, but his attitude. If you don't mind, I would like to stay here with you through the day to make sure he doesn't do something foolish."

"Doctor, if you save his life, we will owe you everything. I will make him finish your march and return your money. I shall go to church and light a thousand candles in your name. I shall --" she broke down, sobbing helplessly. Carl came and stood by her, holding her hand. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

Castillo was embarrassed, so to change the subject he asked if word could be sent to his companions. Constanze managed to collect herself, and went to arrange for that. Castillo looked in on his patient. Mozart was sleeping. Good thing I slipped him a sedative.

His temperature had been 102.7F (a scale not yet invented) on November 19. By the next day it peaked at 104.1, and then began to slip gradually. On November 24 Mozart was apparently cured. Castillo sat down with him for a frank talk on maintaining health.

"Herr Mozart, I must tell you some things about health which perhaps you will not be pleased to hear, but they are most important. First, and this applies to you and to Frau Mozart. Infants are often the source for introducing disease to a household. And it is not healthy for a woman to bear children every year or two. You must have fewer children in the future. Franz is still less than a year old. If you have no further children until Franz is three or four, your wife will be in much better health, and the new child would have a better chance of survival."

Mozart tried to break in, but Castillo knew his tricks by now, and just kept on. "Next, you must eat healthier. Fresh fruits and vegetables when available, less alcohol. Try to avoid mixing in large crowds when possible."

Mozart laughed. "I know, but we want you healthy. Every member of your family must wash hands before eating."

Mozart said dubiously, "Is that really necessary?"

"Absolutely. I will leave you what is left of my supply of penicillin and aspirin. Use either only when necessary."

"Most interesting, my friend. Now you will answer. Each of the three of you Americans has at times started to refer to the other two by a different name than that by which you introduced yourselves. You, for example, seem to be really named something like Castello. There are many reasons why one might not want his proper name used, but most do not apply to an American thousands of miles from home. Your musical friend is at a military academy, which I believe to be the selfsame institution which so humiliated the British. And finally, when I fell ill, you said in English, 'it's starting'. And while my English is not perfect, this suggests to me that you were expecting me to fall ill. So?"

"You are correct about our names, but if you have any gratitude for my medical services or the gross overpayment we are making for the march you are writing for us, you will forget that idea immediately. Our presence here is totally illegal by the standards of the academy, and if any hint of our true names gets back, we will be in terrible trouble."

"And this is in fact the academy which played such a role in your recent war?"

"Certainly."

"That leaves only the question of your expecting me to fall ill."

"That is not precisely correct." Damn straight it isn't--you were supposed to die! "But I cannot discuss this further. All I can say is that I am glad to have been of service for you and for Frau Mozart."

"Rubbish. I need a better answer."

Castillo sighed, and thought quickly. "What is the main cause of death among soldiers?"

"How should I know? I'm a musician, not a military. Bullets I suppose. Or perhaps cannon. Or maybe dragoons falling off their horses." He laughed.

"No, it is illness. Most soldiers die from disease without ever being in battle."

"So?"

"America has a very small population for a lot of land. The British would like to get part or all back, France would not mind having some, so would Spain. Our advantage is that we have developed penicillin and aspirin to keep our soldiers healthy, so that they may fight while other armies are sick. This is our great secret. We came here to hire you for the march, it is true, but I brought along our medicines, because you have quite a history of illnesses."

Mozart did not look completely convinced, but he argued no further.

The three remained in Vienna just long enough to enjoy Christmas, by which time Mozart had completed the requiem and was well started on the march they had paid for. They heard what he had accomplished on the march in an arrangement on his pianoforte, and then headed back to Naples, hoping to either catch up with Preble's mini-fleet or book passage for America.

Castillo and Hartmann kept a very close eye on Kruger as they went through Innsbruck, but he behaved himself there. Their daily communications with Stahl suggested that Preble would be making a stop in Palermo, after which the fleet, now grown to nine ships, would head back to America. The ships were loaded with the loot of Algiers and Tripoli.

The remaining pirate states had taken warning, and hurriedly signed treaties promising to leave American ships unscathed. At Palermo the three waited a week for the fleet to arrive, and then slipped onto three different ships, claiming to have been reassigned to explain their appearance. Since all the ships were by this time severely undermanned, the various captains were simply grateful to have one more man, and the danger of being revealed was minor.

The ships made a second visit to Algiers to assure there had been no backsliding, and then slowly worked their way west along the north African coast, finally passing through the Pillars of Hercules and into the Atlantic at the end of March. At the end of May they were back to New York, just over thirteen months after leaving.

Word had just reached NSMA that Mozart still lived, but this was assumed to be some sort of butterfly effect, and LeVecq was proudly displaying a personal letter from Mozart together with his march. It was publicly played for the first time in the ceremony greeting the returning alumni.

In 1793 Mozart's new opera, Franklin, Ein Mensch, premiered in Vienna. Few noted three minor characters in it named Herman, Kramer, and Castro, two baritones and a tenor.

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