It was a three days before the big celebration. Karl moved
through the house making sure the musicians were perfecting their pieces. Once,
he took the baton and directed the orchestra through Bruckner’s Symphony No. 2
in C minor. The conductor kept rushing the pauses and Karl could feel the
adagio being moved too fast. He could not resist anyway, he never turned down
an opportunity to share his favorite composer’s art. He made sure the dancers
were on step, he checked the menu and taste tested the food, he made sure the
sculptures were finishing their works and were readily practicing with the
blocks of ice he had sent in for the last month. He inspected every hidden
corner of the house with a white glove and inspected the painter’s canvasses
for accuracy of the portraits.
He noticed he had not seen Anzeka since her breakdown. Deep
inside, he panged for causing her such pain and igniting memories of torment.
He felt she was avoiding him, which she was. The day after the incident, he had
the coat taken to her bed. Each morning, he found it there, at the foot of the
bed, unworn. Though the house was big, it was poorly heated. The cooks stayed
in the kitchens at night for warmth and the other prisoners huddled together in
beds, covering with the few coats that they had, except Anzeka.
Karl often patrolled the halls at night checking on the
progress of the artists who worked through the late hours. One night, he passed
by her room and saw her sleeping. She laid there in her day clothes, her shoes
on, and just a sheet, shivering. When he was certain all of the other prisoners
were asleep, he entered the room and stood over her. He watched her sleep and
whispered down to her, “Be warm, miene Liebe.” He moved a lock of hair out of
her face, caressing her cheek. For a moment, he sensed she stopped shivering.
New Year’s Eve finally came. Karl now felt the pressure as
he was informed that amongst the elite officials attending would be the guest
of honor, the maniacal Deputy Führer Rudolph Hess. He put more pressure on
the sculptors, having them sculpt swans, castles, and a giant swastika. He
rushed the painters to clean up the portraits. He had the cooks change the
menus six different times with little satisfaction. The musicians and dancers
were performing non-stop with little time to eat.
He finally found Anzeka hanging one of the finished
portraits above a fireplace in one of the meeting rooms with three other
servants. “I need these rooms cleaned every hour, not a dust in site. I’ll need
the bedrooms cleaned spotless and have you remove all prisoner belongings. Take
them to the basement. I will need vacancy should any of the guests choose to
stay. Then, I’ll need you to arrange each room in uniform, precise. You have 12
hours,” Karl barked at Anzeka and the servants. She nodded and began to leave the
room with the others in tow.
Karl grabbed her arm in mid-stride. The other servants stopped as well. “You three can go.” Anzeka stood frozen staring aimlessly forward. When the servants left the room, Karl moved his mouth close to her ear. She could feel the warmth of his breath and his lips on the micro-hairs of her lobe. “I wish for you to stay out of sight this evening. These animals do not deserve to see you, miene Liebe.” His voice was low and stern, but calm. She felt a different force through her body this time. It was now in her blood, filling her veins like molasses. Her body was warm and the muscles in her face relaxed. He released her arm and she floated away.
The night was a success. The guests were pleased with the music and dance, awed by the sculptures, and salivated over dinner. Heinrich Hackmann, an SS captain in charge of personnel, even sent for Karl to come over and meet Deputy Führer Hess. Hess congratulated him on his success. “Corporal Liebermann, you have made greatness here. You have a keen sense of art that is beautiful. But remember, Corporal; you can dress a rat in a uniform. You may even be able to teach it to dance. But it is still just a rat. And rats must be terminated.” Karl forced a smile and nodded, “But of course, Sir.”
Anzeka had done what Karl ordered and stayed out of sight.
She remained in a storage closet inside the kitchen, adjacent to the ballroom.
There was little room to move around, so she crammed herself amongst the other
contents of the closet. She sat there on a box of potatoes with the coat
wrapped around her shoulder and a bag of her other belongings for hours. She
could hear the orchestra playing. She closed her eyes and thought back to the
day she was in Karl’s office. The music was in fact moving to her but the sound
of that deathly number, the number 9, shook her bones. This time the orchestra
played Bruckner’s first symphony. She knew this from Karl explaining it to the
musicians. It was the most moving piece she had heard during her detainment
under F kommand. She thought back to warmer memories of dancing with her father
as a little girl, standing on his feet as he waltzed with her in their living
room, her mother smiling as she watched. Not a night passed that she didn’t wonder
if she would ever see her mother’s face again. She knew her father was killed.
This information passed down through the camps. Anyone that was sick before
transport back in Kashau was shot on the spot.
The closet door flung open. She raised a hand to block her
face from the blinding light. The orchestra crescendo grew louder. At the
doorway was a silhouette of a tall, broad shouldered soldier. It was Karl.
Anzeka stood up. He entered with a smile and closed the door behind him. “The
cooks told me I would find you here.”
She directed her eyes to the floor.
“Do you know the name of this piece?”
She nodded.
“Do you know what Bruckner himself called it?”
She shook her head, eyes still looking down.
“Das kecke Beserl… The saucy maid.”
She looked up and into his eyes. She felt the warmth
overcome her body again.
“I see you are wearing the coat,” Karl acknowledged. “Have
you ever danced before, miene Liebe?”
She nodded, thinking of her father, again.
"I would like to dance with you." He moved
carefully towards her, expecting her to recoil. He placed her left hand on his
shoulder and grabbed her right hand gently. There was no room for movement, so
he pressed against her body and began to sway.
To be concluded...
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