Two Brothers

—’

‘By rights I should be angry with you, and in many ways I am.’

Frieda had been trying to appear forgiving but now her mouth gaped wide in astonishment. ‘You, angry with me!’

‘You deceived me,’ Karlsruhen whined piously. ‘I thought you were a German girl.’

‘I was a German girl! Herr Karlsruhen. I am a German girl. It’s only this last year or so that anyone has presumed to say I’m not and they have no right.’

‘You are not German, Frau Stengel, and you know it. You are a Jew. Shortly there will be new laws at Nuremberg and you will lose your citizenship as all Jews will…’

‘Herr Karlsruhen, have you come here to tell me what I can read every day in the Volkischer Beobachter?’

‘I have come here to tell you that I still desire you, Frau Stengel! I wish to finish the business I began in 1920. It has stayed with me all these years like no other need. You denied me then but I hope you will not deny me now. There, I have said it. I know that it is wrong but—’

‘Of course it’s wrong—’

‘You are a Jew, so such things are rightly forbidden. Your blood is not my blood, your race inferior. And yet you bewitch me. You always did and I have never forgotten the feel of your body when I laid my hands upon it.’

Frieda knew that she would have to decide.

It was a dreadful, impossible prospect, one which would have been unimaginable, even an hour before. But Wolfgang was in the hands of the SA. She knew that she would do anything to save him. Anything.

‘Well… that’s very… flattering, Herr Karlsruhen,’ Frieda said, trying to keep her voice steady, ‘and perhaps I was a little brusque with you all those years ago. But now, well, the thing is, my husband—’

‘Ah yes, your husband,’ Karlsruhen said with triumphant malice. ‘Once there was a time when you told me your husband would kill me for what I would like to do to you. But he can’t help you now, can he, Frau Stengel? He can’t even help himself. For where is he? Do you know, Frau Stengel? I don’t think so.’

And the dreadful truth dawned on her. Incredible that it took so long for the devilish penny to drop. It was so obvious. Him turning up that very night. Scarcely an hour after…

‘What do you know about my husband? Tell me!’

‘I know that he is a decadent and a purveyor of corrupt Jew filth and he has been rightly taken into custody and—’

‘It was you! You reported him!’ Frieda hissed. ‘You evil bastard, you had them get him out of the way so you could force yourself on me!’

‘Your husband has been arrested, Frau Stengel, that is all we know. Meanwhile, there is the matter of you and your children to consider. I have influence. I am highly regarded in official circles. You may in fact have read that I have recently been elected to the Prussian Academy of Arts… I am perhaps not quite an Arno Breker but nonetheless I have been told even the Fuhrer has—’

‘Can you help my husband? If I do what you want, can you help him?’

She had decided. She would let his plan work out the way he wanted if only he would bring back Wolfgang.

But of course he couldn’t.

‘Your husband is gone, Frau Stengel. Into the abyss,’ Karlsruhen said. ‘His fate is now beyond you or me to influence. It is now for you to consider your own position and that of your children. If you will agree to meet me in secret from time to time I can help you. I can protect you and gain you privileges. Believe me, your kind will be in need of such things quite soon now. I can make sure that your sons are allowed to complete their studies. I can see that the local SA are warned off.’

‘Herr Karlsruhen, can you help my husband? He has only just been taken! Surely it is not too late!’

‘That Jew is gone!’ Karlsruhen said angrily. ‘Forget him. Think only of yourself. Do as I say and I will help you. Deny me and I swear I will do the opposite. How old are your boys now? Fourteen? Old enough to go to Dachau I can assure you… You must succumb to me. You have no choice. You must finally allow me to do to you what you deserve, you little Jewish slut! You whore! Do you think you can deny me? You are Untermensch. You must crawl or die. I’ll break your Jew pride. I’ll show you how a beast should be tamed. You will let me use you as I wish or your boys will follow your husband to Dachau!’

He had taken hold of her now, all pretence at civilized manners gone. And she was utterly at his mercy. Legally without protection, socially without position or influence. Completely defenceless.

He would take her boys. They’d be sent to a camp.

She had no choice.

Frieda kissed him. Hard on the mouth.

Reaching down she took a hold of him for a moment through his thick woollen trousers. He squirmed against the pressure of her hand.

‘At last,’ he gasped. ‘I will take what I want.’

‘But not here,’ she begged, breaking away. ‘The children—’

She did not finish her sentence.

And that unfinished sentence was the last Karlsruhen ever heard. The words ‘the children’ the final two words ever to enter his consciousness.

Which was fitting, for it was the children who killed him.

Otto struck the blow.

He, Paulus and Silke had been listening from the boys’ bedroom and when they heard the sinister conversation degenerate into scuffling sounds they had opened the door and entered the living room.

Karlsruhen had been too preoccupied to notice movement behind him and Frieda could see nothing but the sculptor’s huge face and body pressing down on her.

Otto acted, as ever, on instinct. He scooped up the nearest weapon, which happened to be the little bronze statuette of his mother that stood upon Wolfgang’s piano, and, leaping forward, smashed its heavy marble plinth into the back of Karlsruhen’s head. Splitting open the man’s skull.

Karlsruhen simply crumpled up. Pole-axed, slumping down on to the thick blue rug.

Frieda found herself facing the three young people over his prostrate form.

For a moment they all remained motionless.

Otto, breathing hard, holding the statue by the head, Paulus and Silke just behind him. Karlsruhen slumped on his side. Blood seeping from the back of his head. Frieda, eyes wide with shock, for once at her wits’ end.

‘What…? What do we do?’

It was all simply too overwhelming.

For her, but not for Paulus, who stepped forward, kneeling down beside the unconscious man and feeling his pulse.

‘Is the bastard dead?’ Silke asked from behind him.

‘No,’ said Paulus. ‘He’s still breathing.’

Without saying a world Otto raised the statuette in his hand, clearly about to bring it smashing down for a second time.

Frieda gasped in horror. Paulus raised his hand.

‘Stop it, Otto!’ he hissed. ‘We don’t want any more blood than there is already. Thank God he fell on the carpet and thank God it’s such a thick one. If he’d gone down on the floorboards we’d be in trouble. Can’t get blood out of wood.’

The news that Karlsruhen was alive cleared Frieda’s muddled thoughts, her natural instincts forcing her to focus.

‘If he’s alive then I should help him.’

‘What?’ Otto said.

‘Yeah. What?’ Silke echoed.

‘He’s injured, I’m a doctor.’