Chapter 48 Magellan
Magellan
The moment was pure magic. A breathtaking view of the Eastern Alps surrounded them with medieval and baroque buildings nestled along the Salzach river.
Magellan felt like she had stepped right into The Sound of Music.
She could almost imagine Julie Andrews somewhere off in the distance spinning with her arms wide, singing “the hills are alive.”
On a whim she launched into The Sound of Music’s “Do-Re-Mi” with a giggle.
Godwin opened his eyes in surprise. “What on earth are you singing?”
Magellan didn’t want to stop to explain.
She was high on time travel, or maybe it was the stress.
They were less than forty-eight hours away from Winter Solstice and the end of the world.
Or maybe Salzburg’s pure 1799 air was making her batty.
She didn’t know and raised her voice louder, proclaiming me was a name she called herself and far was a long way to run.
Rhys broke out laughing, and Godwin told him, “I believe your wife has lost her senses.”
“Yes, it’s adorable.” Rhys was leaning away from her to get a better view of the performance, his hand over his mouth in astonishment.
She crooned how it would bring it back to “doe,” ready to Do-Re-Mi again. There was something therapeutic about it. Maybe she’d been cooped up in this carriage with two earls for too long. Maybe she’d finally lost it. She sang louder, encouraging them to give it a try. “It goes in a loop. See?”
Soon she had them both singing. After a few rounds, they knew the lyrics and began to have fun. By the end Godwin was belting it out the loudest. He seemed to have missed his calling for the stage.
“What are we singing, by the way?” Rhys asked between laughs.
“It’s from a musical that was made here. Or will be made.” Magellan never thought she’d be in Salzburg. She’d traveled more on this trip than she had her whole life. Perhaps whoever named her Magellan knew she would too. It was a provocative thought she tucked away.
They Do-Re-Mi’d all the way to Salzburg.
When they reached the town, they found a charming inn on a long, narrow cobblestone street filled with confectioners and vendors in the shopping district.
Salzburg’s city hall and many of the surrounding buildings had been built in the fourteenth century, and every stone felt as if it had earned the right to stay there forever.
While Godwin went to take care of the carriage and secure their rooms for the night, Rhys and Magellan set off to find a music shop.
They didn’t have to look long. It was just down the street, the store a small space crammed full of instruments.
Magellan ignored the racks of violins and other string instruments to approach the woodwind section.
“I need an oboe,” she told Rhys with certainty.
The oboe was similar to a flute in sound and made of wood with a double chamber to move the air.
Unlike other wind instruments, the sound didn’t need to stop when the player paused to inhale.
An oboist could play, while inhaling and exhaling, thereby never breaking the momentum of the sound.
Although the modern oboe made its debut in France in 1657, the instrument actually dated back thousands of years.
A symphony tuned its orchestra to the oboe, and the instrument was relied upon by a composer to pierce through any song with its clarity.
Magellan felt she would need an oboe if she was going to battle the vortex waiting for her on the other side.
Rhys turned to the shop clerk and asked for his help in German.
This would be the last instrument she would play to go home.
She forced herself not to panic at the thought of what the future might bring.
Anxiety came from either fearing the future or regretting the past, and she wanted to stay fully in the present, in her heart, and experience every moment she could with Rhys.
The shopkeeper helped her choose an oboe and fit the mouthpiece specifically for her, and she gave it a try.
Her fingers flew across the metal keys. She focused hard on the breathing dynamics, trusting her instincts to coax the sound.
She played part of Swan Lake, even though Tchaikovsky wasn’t alive yet.
Everyone in the shop stopped what they were doing as she played the iconic melody. When she finished, they all erupted into applause.
With a sad smile, Rhys told the clerk they would take it. He knew what this instrument was for and what it could do when she really played it.
They walked back to the inn holding hands, with Magellan clutching the oboe to her chest. Godwin was waiting for them when they arrived.
He had been able to secure a private dining room for them and had ordered a feast. Like a last supper, though Magellan tried not to see it in that light or she would lose her appetite.
Tonight, she, Rhys, and Godwin wanted to celebrate reaching Nannerl.
They had champagne and wine. Many toasts were made to much laughter.
Rhys teased Godwin, saying his Beloved B was really a “P” and Godwin should question his hearing.
Rhys almost had Godwin believing it and then confessed he was kidding. A short food fight ensued.
The meal was incredible. They gorged on mushroom dumplings, Wiener schnitzel, savory crepes with ham and spinach, and a ragout made of pork and sauerkraut. They sang “Do-Re-Mi.” A lot.
Magellan had never laughed so much or so hard in her life, until she remembered tomorrow they would set out together for Saint Gilgen at first light on Winter Solstice eve.
Everyone seemed to be thinking the same thing, and the mood turned somber as they stared at each other over the flickering candlelight.
Godwin raised his glass for one final toast. “To Gwynedd, Taliesin, and Merlin, two comets and a North Star. May their journey continue.”
They clinked glasses in solidarity and drank the last from their cups.
Later when Magellan and Rhys reached their room, in many ways it felt like stepping into their first room that night in 1165.
Rhys shut and locked the door and then they were in each other’s arms, falling back on the bed. They were chest to chest, their hearts beating in time as they tried to memorize each other’s bodies.
Tomorrow was the great unknown, but no matter what happened, Magellan had to believe their love was a Ley Line that would lead them to each other again regardless what time the world existed in. Because love, like music, was timeless.