The next day, I went back to the meadow and . . . wonders upon wonders . . . my violin played the Lost Chord again. Once more I had become fully aware of its awesome powers.
With the chord still echoing in my ears, I went over to a rock and there, don’t ask me why, I willed myself to rise to its top. As if lifted by a magic carpet, I levitated until I stood proudly on top of the boulder.
Unfortunately as the sound died down its strange powers faded as well and I had to laboriously climb down the normal way. I began to wonder about my grandfather’s gift. What was this strange device that he had given to me. Was it perhaps David’s own? Was that lost chord that it played really David’s? I became more and more worried. Was its power purely benign or could it one day show me its other side. A den of horrors, perhaps? Recalling the old white haired man’s adventures, I decided that I too had to travel, violin in hand, to some distant village. How else would I find out what it had in store for me?
One evening, I came to what at first seemed like a village to me. It was, however, the camp of a band of wandering gypsies.
Without a care in the world, I walked into the camp and began greeting everyone that I saw. I was totally taken aback when some burly unshaven men grabbed me and dragged me before their so-called King. He was a man with a wild appearance. He looked like Attila and even sounded like him when he spoke.
“Haaa. A wandering minstrel, I see. Come on you strolling fool. Give us your money. Come on, all of it.”
“Look, I have no money, King. I really don't have anything. I was hoping to earn some for my food and quarters in each village.”
“No money! You useless tramp. You’ve come to waste our time here have you? Oh no you won’t you young fool. We’ll let you entertain us tonight. You want to play and so you shall. Tonight there will be a competition.”
“You see, we were going to slit your throat but now we’ll give you a chance. You will compete against one of our best violinists. If you beat him we may let you go
free. But if you don’t …..”
He drew an imaginary line across his throat. He looked most evil as he did this. I was then taken to a hut where I was locked in. As the hours went by I became thirsty and hungry and so I was overjoyed when, after a faint rustling, I saw a large red apple mysteriously placed on the window sill. After a long while, I was released and roughly pulled towards the dusty square in the middle of the camp. A crowd and, of course, the Gypsy King was waiting for me.
Their Gypsy maestro played first. Even though I was in an awful predicament I nevertheless felt that I had to give him his full due. I was dismayed by his glissandos falling from a twittering sparrow to the sound of a growling cat. To his playing he added a repertoire of impressive grandious flourishes.
When he finally sat down, I saw that all the men and even most women were drinking straight from bottles. His music had achieved nothing more than a desire to have a drunken ball. Some women had begun to dance wildly in an open space and I could see how some of their blouses were slipping down over their shoulders.
Then, inevitably, my turn came. To my inevitable dismay, the King turned towards me and bowed towards me somewhat mockingly. He me gave a sign that I should step forward and begin my show. My fight for survival.
I stood up and slowly pulled my bow across the strings. Never had a violin played so beautifully. It played the music of the gods. To my unbounded joy I saw that everybody immediately stopped and turned to stand and stare at me. I heard bottles dropping down to the ground. Some women began to push the men close to them away. Soon all men, women and even the children were jostling each other in order to get a better view of me. In the corner of my eyes I saw that the Gypsy King had stood up and was looking at me in a strange way. The idea struck me that he was about to order his men to have me removed.
Then it happened. My violin once again played the Magic Chord.
It was magnificent. It was magical. It was then that everyone began to dance looking as if they were in an entranced state. No one was taking any notice of me anymore. So it seemed.
I felt someone tugging at my sleeve. I turned to look. She was the most beautiful girl that I had ever seen . . . but it was her eyes that caught my attention. They were deep dark pools that I could have looked into for hours. Well, I could have but she had other ideas.
“Come with me. At once. They will kill you anyway. There’s no time. Come with me. Follow me.”
We ran and ran. When we were out of breath we rested for a moment and then we ran again. Then when I could run no more I held her back by her hand.
“Stop now. We’ve run far enough. Isn’t it time for you to go back before they miss you? ““Don’t you see? I’m not going back. I’m coming with you.”“No you can’t do that. You belong to them. If you leave them they’ll hunt you down. Why would you come with me any way. You don’t know me.”
She gave a sweet smile. A smile that quite perplexed me.“Ah but I know your violin. I know what your violin wants.”“What are you talking about?“Because I gave you an apple when you needed it, your violin has decided that I should go with you.”
“Shouldn’t there first be affection or love between us?"
She reached out and took the violin from me and embraced it lovingly. Then she looked at me in a way that I shall never forget. Neither would I ever forget her words.
“You know that on your own you may find love one day. Some kind of love. But if you follow where the violin leads you will find magic.”
At that moment, I knew why that old man had died with such a beautiful smile on his face.
rate
email
print
link to this page
Comments: 2