They were able to find a larger motorized vehicle made by Benz to take them for a drive around Salzburg. Freya wasn’t certain how they’d managed such a thing, but she wasn’t going to complain one bit. The vehicle stopped and dropped them off right in front of the Salzburg Cathedral.
Henry, Tobias, Frank, Gertie, Freya, and Daphne all stepped out together. The original group she’d met when first joining the program were still some of her most preferred friends.
Henry nodded at the large white cathedral. “We’re playing here tonight.”
“Let’s step inside anyway, shall we?” Gertie’s eyes shone. “The sun won’t hit the stained glass at night.”
They creaked open a large wooden door, and Freya’s breath came out in a soft woosh. The room was stunningly white, the sanctuary brilliantly lit with stained glass windows filling two balconies on either side and a dome up at the ceiling that seemed miles away. She craned her neck.
In hushed voices, they walked along the perimeter, taking in everything around them. By the time they’d spent just the short amount of their morning walking through the hushed and peaceful environment, Freya’s smile was larger, and she felt ready to face her situation with more courage.
As soon as they exited into the sunlight, they had joined another group of students, and the whole mass of them walked down the path to the river.
Quaint buildings lined the sides of the water. The river stretched out in a moving calm. She wondered how fast the current flowed. A breeze picked up, and she wrinkled her nose. She had no desire to experience the rush of the river.
“I’d like to take the Festungsbahn.” Daphne pointed up toward the trolley that transported people up the mountain. “People say that Hohensalzburg Fortress boasts a view of Salzburg that is unmatched.”
Freya squinted up into the sun. White walls and white turrets at the top of a hill reflected a brilliant light. The hill itself was covered with trees that would one day boast a blanket of green. The mountains towered above them all. “I am of the same mind as Daphne. Imagine what we could see from the top of one of those turrets.” They walked away from the river. The cobblestone was uneven beneath her feet, but the smooth rocks made her smile. How many boots, horses’ hooves, wagon wheels, carts, and cars had travelled those very stones to wear them to such a smooth texture? They arrived just as a funicular was about to leave. Hurrying to buy tickets and crowd aboard the train car, they made it just in time.
The cart started to move uphill, pulled by cables. Freya craned her neck to watch Salzburg fall away behind her, growing smaller as they made their way up the hill. When they arrived, they toured the grounds. The fortress was interesting, but what she enjoyed most was, as expected, the view. Gertie moved to stand beside her, wind whipping around them, shaking their hats. Laughing, they each placed a hand on the tops of their heads. Gertie swept her other arm out to their front. “This gives me a whole new perspective.”
“I agree. It’s beautiful. And so far away. Look at the rooftops. They look like toys. Have you ever seen such tiny cars?”
“And just think, there’s the school, over by the boarding house.” She pointed.
“Oh yes, I see it.”
“It, too, is very small. Imagine how small that moment when I played for the Maestro was. That tiny moment in time, in a small room, in a small building far away.” She spun in a circle. “And yet, it mattered so much.”
“Perhaps it is not the size of the moment that makes it matter.” Freya considered her own words as a batch of clouds blew by above her head. “But no matter how big or small, this glorious view helps me remember there’s a whole world of people out there doing many small but important things all at the same time. And succeed or fail, the world keeps moving. They continue to go about their lives.”
Gertie stood closer. “But are you ready to possibly fail?”
“No, I’m not.” Freya’s determination grew. “And I don’t think you are either.” She spun in a circle herself. “And when I’m up here, I feel like anything is possible. Just look. The very world is at our feet.” She laughed and ran to the edge of the stone wall. “Salzburg Maestro!” she shouted out to the wind. “You seem very small down there. We are going to play so big and so bold that even you will be blown away by us, just like this wind!” Her words flew away, gone as she shouted them. But she felt a rising strength inside.
Gertie shouted. “Yes!”
They stood together until the rest of their group was preparing to take the funicular back down the mountain.
They had by now toured many of the sights of Salzburg but not the birthplace of Mozart. The group had seen it earlier, and even though Freya wanted to pass by it, no one else, not even Gertie, wished to push off lunch any further that day. She stood with Gertie, surrounded by many of the other students, everyone chattering. Freya smiled. The sun shone warm on their chilled skin from the early April air. The mountains soared above them. And suddenly her eyes were drawn to the top peak, white tipped, and she remembered Erich. Her smile grew, and her heart ached a little for him. How odd to crave the company of someone who only a month past had no part in her life at all.
She felt eyes on her. Almost without realizing, she turned her head but saw only the back of a tall man in a hat like Erich had been wearing the first day she met him. He moved away in a hurry, and soon he was lost to view. Erich did travel to Salzburg. Perhaps that was him? She took two steps in that direction, thinking she might follow him, but then someone called out, “The Maestro! I saw him in the café.”
She whipped her head in the opposite direction. “Where?”
A woman, one of the flutists, pointed. “Just a moment ago.”
The mass of students moved in that direction, and Freya had no hope of getting any closer than the person in front of her. But she did so long for a look at him.
She studied Gertie’s face, hoping this sighting would not bring on another bout of melancholy, but she only smiled. Then she turned to Freya. “He was right, you know.”
“The Maestro?”
She nodded. “Yes, about the things he suggested. I worked on my trills. I’m actually improving.”
“Already?”
“Yes. I can see if I keep at it, I’ll be even better than I thought.” She shrugged. “I think I just needed to look at things differently.”
“I’m happy to hear it.” Freya stood as tall as she could. “Do you think I’ll ever get to see him?”
“He’s supposed to pull everyone out. I’m sure you’ll get your turn.” Gertie threw up her hands and stopped trying to push through the crowds. “But I don’t know what he could find wrong with your playing.”
Freya thought of Erich. “I don’t know. I wonder if the professional standard is much higher than we ever experience. I’m interested to hear what I can learn from him.”
By the time the crowd had dispersed and Freya could see into the shop, she doubted very much the few remaining people were the Maestro, else he be swarmed with students.
She sighed. “I hope I get my turn soon, in enough time to actually improve before my Salzburg Orchestra audition.”
They finished out their afternoon, and Freya was even more in love with the city than she had been in her dreams.
Gertie walked at her side. “Are you ready to be first-chair violinist tonight?”
Freya smiled. “I am.” She paused. “As long as Eliza doesn’t frown at me the whole of the night, I might have a lovely time of it.”
“If she keeps her lips pinched like that, my grandmother says one day they might stay. She points out all the women of a certain age, telling me it’s much better to have smile lines.”
Freya laughed. “In that case, you will have no trouble.” They linked arms and climbed aboard their car.
When they re-boarded the same cars that evening, their instruments either safely in hand or loaded separately in their larger cases, they were dressed in full formal concert attire. Freya had taken extra care with her appearance. Her hair was pulled away from her face, a clip with just a few sparkles held her hair up, and her black dress allowed arm movement but hugged her waist. She sat tall, grateful for the countless hours her instructor had spent enforcing posture and correct positioning of the violin.
They pulled up in front of the gorgeous cathedral again. This time the stained glass shone brilliantly to them outside on the street as the lights on the inside tried to penetrate the dark world around her. She paused, appreciating the sight, but then the jostling of orchestra members around her brought her back to the urgency of the moment, and she followed them into the cathedral. In the doorway, she turned, feeling eyes on her again. But she saw no one. For a moment, a hint of sadness tugged at her heart. No one she cared about would be present to see her performance. Her mother would not feel well enough to come, and her father would never think of coming. Her grandmother might, at the very end, but in spite of helping convince Freya’s father to let her participate in the orchestra this summer, she was still clearly hoping for a marriage for Freya rather than a musical career. Still, the woman loved her. Freya wished she was there to see her orchestra perform. And she wished her parents appreciated music like she did. She wished they could see what an honor it was for her to be there, for her to be the first-chair violinist, for her to have this opportunity. She looked around, the cathedral starting to fill up. These people appreciated music. But she didn’t know a single one.
She lifted her chin and forced her shoulders not to drop, but she had to blink four times to clear the moisture. The loneliness was a sharp pang that crept in at times she was least expecting it.
A growing audience already filled the front three rows. One young girl drew Freya’s attention; her gaze followed the entering musicians almost hungrily. Her hands rested in her lap, and her posture was perfectly upright. Freya wondered if she herself was a musician. Freya paused at their row, smiled, and waved at her. The response was immediate—her returning smile large and engaging. Freya almost laughed along with her exuberance, but instead, she nodded and winked before following her fellow orchestra members up to the front. Chairs were in place in the area directly in front of the sanctuary. A brilliant gold altar with stained glass windows behind rose to the top of the ceiling. The raised stand for their conductor was draped with a black cloth. The vaulted ceilings rose high to the stars. Rows of chairs and pews filled the space in front of where she would play.
Freya made her way to her chair. She sat facing the center, her side not five feet from the nearest pews. The young girl who’d smiled so intently sat a few rows back. Freya double-checked the tune of her violin.
The sounds of the other instruments doing the same made her smile. As time drew near for the concert to begin, she stood. All orchestra members quieted, eyes on her. Then she played her A string. The other instruments tuned theirs to her, and then everyone played their A together. She nodded and then sat.
Exhilaration filled her. Clapping filled the cathedral. Her gaze travelled out. The room had filled quickly, and Freya found a new happiness that she could share this music with these people, even if she knew none of them personally. Her eyes travelled to the young girl, who seemed at the moment to be the only friend listening. Then another set of eyes caught hers. Erich. She gasped.
His grin grew, then he nodded.
Freya’s heart pounded in her chest. She closed her eyes, trying to keep her smile small and demure, but the thrill of Erich watching her performance filled her with joy. The conductor paused in front of her. She stood and shook his hand, a gesture symbolic of him greeting the whole orchestra, then he made his way to the platform. Freya couldn’t spare another glance at Erich, but her whole body tingled with awareness. The happy flush to her skin gave her a rush of energy and a surge of confidence. She had one solo in this piece, and Erich would hear it. She smiled.
The conductor raised his hands. She lifted her instrument. With the first drop of his baton, they began to play.
The power of their notes flowed through her. The acoustics in the cathedral were incredible from where she sat; the sound echoed all around her as if resonating off the very walls themselves. Soon she forgot the audience and became one with her fellow musicians, the rhythm of their piece flowing through her, the beauty of the music the only priority. Only Erich remained on the edge of her consciousness. His quiet presence in the building made everything even more beautiful.
When their concert was over, she stood and bowed when directed. She searched the crowds, but Erich was nowhere to be seen. Surely he would wait for her. But the longer she looked the greater her disappointment that he could not be found.
The young girl and what looked like her parents approached. Her cheeks colored prettily, and she curtsied. “Vielen Dank.”
“Bitte. Thank you for coming. It meant a lot to me to see someone appreciate the music like you do.”
Her eyes lowered. “Thank you. I loved to hear you play.”
The man at her side held out his hand. “I’m her father, Herr Bach, no relation to Johann, unfortunately.” He chuckled and then straightened. “Our daughter would like to train one day in the same program.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Freya Winter.” She met the young girl’s mother and found that the budding musician lived in London for part of the year. Her name was Emilia, and Freya agreed to see her when she was next in town, though secretly Freya hoped to never live there again. She hoped to continue in Salzburg playing with the orchestra.
All the while she talked to the Bachs, she sought some view of Erich. But she never saw him.
The others met her outside the cathedral, their chatter filling the street with sound. Gertie gushed. “I’ve never heard such a beautiful sound. Have you?”
“No. It was quite overpowering when it filled the cathedral.” Freya couldn’t help but join in their excitement. And she had seen Erich. Even if he hadn’t waited or stayed to talk, at least she’d seen him.
“And your solo.” Gertie’s grin was contagious. “It was sublime. I saw even the Maestro close his eyes in enjoyment.”
“The Maestro? He was there?” The pang of missed opportunity stung, but to hear that he may have enjoyed her playing took away some of the disappointment that she’d once again missed meeting the man.
“Yes! I forget you haven’t met him yet. He stood and clapped with great enthusiasm when we took our bows.”
“And you say he liked my solo?” Freya was hungry for any reaction from her hero.
“Yes. He smiled, which I’ve never seen, and closed his eyes like he was eating a delicious ice.” Gertie laughed. “Or at least that’s what it looked like to me.”
Energy coursed through Freya. Well, that was something. He seemed to like her playing. It was he who had requested her first solo. She had hoped that she was not forgotten. “Tonight was an excellent night, was it not?” Her smile stretched so long and so far, her cheeks began to ache. “And now, on to the Salzburg Orchestra!” Freya knew playing with professional musicians could only be that much more sublime.
The faces around hers dimmed their happiness.
“What? Are you not excited?”
“We’re excited,” Frank muttered. “About as excited as you can be when someone else wins a medal.”
She laughed, but no one else smiled. “Do you not think we all have a chance at making a place in that orchestra?”
Frank shrugged. “Some of us might. But it’s competitive, isn’t it? And we’d be unseating a current member. I don’t know how many plan to leave their spot willingly each year.”
“Oh, you’re right.” Somehow in Freya’s mind, she knew she’d be competing against professionals for their spots. But the way Frank said it made her realize just how much of a challenge that would be. “Well, we can try, can’t we?”
“Of course. We are all required to audition at any rate. It’s part of our experience.” He shrugged. “I’ll give it my best go.”
Gertie scooted closer to her in the car. “And you just might make it,” she whispered.
“And you.” Freya nudged her.
“I don’t know, not from my fifth-chair spot.”
“You’ll do better this go-round. I am certain of it.”
Gertie lifted her chin. “I think you’re right. Chair tests are tomorrow again, aren’t they?”
Freya groaned. “Every week we have to compete for our spot.”
“And everyone trying to steal the one we already have.” Frank raised one corner of his mouth.
“At least I’m not travelling this weekend. We have a concert every night as well.”
“I like it better when you’re here.” Gertie’s grateful expression reminded Freya again how nice it was to have a friend.
“I do too.” But of course, a part of her disagreed. A part of her would always prefer any chance to get to see Erich, and this week particularly, since more than anything she wanted to know what he thought of their performance. Had he smiled like the Maestro?