With this source of information, Arie grew enthusiastic about the fact that he held a position allowing him to interfere with the deportation orders issued by the Gestapo. In his job as an agent with the Gestapo, he had no problem manipulating the census files to help the people of Mill, who were scheduled for deportation. Special notations in the census files with the letter “J” (Jew) denoted that they were destined for concentration camps. Arie took on his job with vigor, knowing he must act carefully, in secrecy. Would he dare to remove and destroy census records of Dutch citizens under the nose of his Gestapo superiors? A few hours into his research, he noticed the name Danya Mandraskit. The notation next to her name, “C” (Circassian), immediately sent him into an alert mode. Danya was in imminent danger of being arrested. He had to see his brother at the castle.
Two white swans were nibbling each other’s necks, leisurely floating in the moat around the castle. It was spring and love was in the air for this pair of stately birds. War was not to interrupt their joy.
Arie’s loud motorcycle disrupted their courtship; their massive flapping wings startled Arie as he dismounted his new Messerschmitt machine adorned with the Gestapo insignia on the handlebars.
Manus met him in the courtyard, shocked to see his brother for the first time in a Gestapo uniform. “You are a disgrace to our family for joining the Gestapo!” he said scornfully. “How could you lower yourself to take this step?” An angry tear rolled down his cheek. “Were you not there at the meeting with father, where we pledged to stand together against the invader? I feel like ripping that uniform from your body!” Arie could no longer keep it a secret that he was a double agent.
“Brother, calm down,” Arie said calmly. “I’m here on a mission to save Danya’s life. Let me explain why I became a double agent. Van Lansfoort, who persuaded me to serve in the resistance, contacted me. Simultaneously, I joined the Gestapo Political Police. I expect you will keep this secret. You must trust me.” Without further delay, he came to the point. “I am worried about Danya’s safety. The records in my office list her name under deportation.” Manus looked shocked. He was not going to share the safeguarding duty of Danya with his brother. She would be safe with him, hiding in the castle. Arie noticed the torment in his eyes.
“Let me try to help. In my position as head of the Census Bureau, I may be able to keep her out of prison. There is a provision in the Gestapo Directive, which states that Jews and other undesirables in a ‘mixed marriage’ can obtain an exclusion from deportation.” Manus looked at his brother in disbelief. He did not appreciate his brother getting involved in Danya’s personal life.
On the other hand, he had never given any thought to the idea of Danya becoming part of his life. He offered so little regarding a future as a struggling artist. However, come what may, he was not going to abandon the girl who had served him faithfully as his model.
Manus decided to tell Arie that Danya would be well protected in her hideaway in the Great Hall. In case of an inspection by the Gestapo, they would not think of searching inside the hall where the Stations of the Cross were.
For weeks, he had diligently worked with hammer and chisel to refine Maria’s face in Station IV “Jesus Meets his Mother on the Way to Calvary.” At last, he’d found the perfect facial expression of grief and agony. When he stepped back from his work, he realized that he had unwittingly created the facial expressions of Danya, the image of a young girl in torment. Was this a signal to build her hideaway underneath Station IV? He spent hours shuffling dirt to create an underground opening to serve as a hiding place in case the Gestapo came looking for Danya. Arie was alarmed at his brother’s naivety when he heard about the hiding place. Manus was underestimating the ingenuity with which the Gestapo carried out their relentless searches. Their agents were experts when it came to rounding up people from hidden locations.
“It lies in your power to save Danya from being imprisoned. Marry her! Once she is married to you, I will sign the certificate of mixed marriage to keep her safe from deportation,” Arie urged. Manus did not know how to respond.
“Well, will you consider my proposition, or do you know of another gentile who would be available for marriage?” After a brief pause, Arie pressed on with his brother to get an answer. Manus did not answer, and with a hint of jealousy, Arie added, “Consider yourself lucky getting married to a beautiful girl.” Manus was not amused. “Time is running out. You need to decide. Remember, my neck is in the noose as well. If the Gestapo learn of what I just did, they will execute me along with Danya! By the way, where is Danya?” he asked, looking around.
“She is in hiding in the Great Hall.” Suddenly, she emerged, surprised to see Arie dressed in a Gestapo uniform. She stared at him, looking down at his black boots. Despite her disheveled hair and simple clothing, she looked exotic. Her amber eyes, angelic face, and enigmatic look made her special to Arie. Without a word, she turned to the fireplace and sat on a low stool. For a while, she buried her face in her hands, remaining silent. The silence in the room became unbearable. Finally, she looked at Arie.
“I am not sure that you belong here,” she said in a calm voice, looking him in the eyes. “I should have stayed in hiding …” Arie tried to put her at ease.
“May I explain my uniform?” he began. “Prince Bernhard recruited me as a double agent, working for the Dutch Resistance. I am here to keep you from being deported. Gestapo agents may already be on the way to arrest you.” He repeated what he had told Manus about “mixed marriages.” While shocked at Arie’s proposition, Danya realized his idea could save her life.
Arie looked at Danya as if he had come to the rescue as her knight and savior. Danya felt bewildered and alone. She needed more time not to be so overwhelmed by the news.
She spent most of her time inside the castle. On a rare occasion, they risked taking an evening walk in the forest around the castle. They had to be careful. Unsavory elements often roamed around in the woods at night trapping rabbits. On this balmy evening, they needed fresh air. They snuck out and walked down a narrow path. Manus wanted to talk with Danya in the stillness of the woods, between bombing raids.
Through the trees, Danya saw the last rays of the fading sun. “Ever since my aunt died, I have felt alone. I have no contact with my family,” she said somberly. “I miss my parents. I wonder about my father, who is close friends with the royal family. Will they be able to count on the support of the royal family? What will become of them under the German occupation?”
The only friend in Danya’s world today was Manus. On their walk, she took his hand as they strolled through the woods. As they walked amidst the trees, the evening sky turned red and purple. With her dark curls tenderly bouncing off her shoulders, Danya looked like a fawn abandoned by its mother.
The song of the nightingale resonated through the woods, like the music of “Toselli’s Serenade.” Unsure of how to start the conversation about marriage, Manus gathered a ray of self-confidence. “My brother explained how a ‘mixed marriage’ would protect you from deportation. Can we talk more about it?” She let go of his hand and walked away in silence. Torn between her safety and marriage to a man she did not love, a voice inside whispered, what does love have to do with this? She was a Circassian girl, destined to follow her life’s dream of finding that unique individual her mother had spoken about when she had given her the bottle of enchantment. Manus was someone she compared to a great pretender, living in a fantasy world, in his dilapidated castle, without food and with plenty of rats. She realized that her dream of becoming a sculptress was vanishing in the chaos of war.
Manus had never openly shown affection toward Danya. Until now, she had been a precious young girl, standing in for Maria, mother of Jesus. He was not going to violate that special bond he had with her as her teacher and changing her role from a model to a lover was unthinkable. Alternatively, he wondered if he should give it some thought.
In silence, they walked side by side, until the nightingale sang no more. Deep shadows fell behind the trees. Thoughts of imprisonment and deportation flooded Danya’s mind.
When morning came, Manus made ersatz coffee from burned carrots. They shared a small portion of porridge, left over from the day before. Manus was the only one who received food ration coupons. Danya was not on the official register to receive her share. He gladly shared his food allotment with Danya.
In the room adjacent to the kitchen, he saw to it that the rats had something to eat too—leftovers, a crust of bread or rind of the old cheese. Manus explained to Danya that killing rats would do no good. If you feed the critters in a fixed location, they stay in that area; he told Danya. He had read this in a handbook on how to raise rats.
It was mid-morning when Arie returned to the castle with bad news. “The roundups of Jews are in full swing. Long lines of lorries are taking them to Westerbork, a Dutch transit prison, where the Germans held detainees for processing to concentration camps in Germany and Poland.” Danya shuddered at hearing Westerbork. She had heard the name on the radio a couple of weeks back. Arie paused to take a long, hard look at Manus and Danya, trying to determine where they stood on the idea of marriage. “I have arranged for both of you to present yourself tomorrow in the basement at City Hall,” he said, breaking the silence. “The registrar will be present at 10 o’clock sharp. You must do everything to keep the wedding a secret from the Gestapo.” Manus looked stunned and turned to Danya. Looking at the floor where her shelter was, she shook her head. After removing the cover, she returned to her hideout to be alone.
“Danya cannot be seen in public while she travels,” Arie continued. “Manus, find a way to smuggle her into town. Make sure she is not spotted.” Arie suddenly turned and disappeared without further words.
Manus kept a tricycle for delivering statues and death masks in the old stable. All he had to do was manufacture a false bottom in the tricycle, just roomy enough for Danya to hide.
The next morning, Manus was on the road on his tricycle, with Danya in the secret compartment. In the lobby of City Hall, Manus caught a glimpse of the “Last Tulips” painting, so beautifully painted by his father a couple of years ago. In the lower office of City Hall, Manus and Danya were married, correctly signing the marriage register. The local magistrate had summoned two men to stand in as witnesses. They stumbled in from across the street, where the city café was. They were drunk. In case the Gestapo became suspicious, the magistrate wanted the witnesses in a drunken state to help them forget the marriage ceremony. After the wedding, he demanded ten guilders for each witness to cover the cost of the liquor they consumed.
Once outside, Manus pulled her toward him and kissed her. Danya turned away; to her, the marriage license was nothing more than a scrap of paper, a formality to save her life. After all, the occupation would not last forever, she thought. Once liberated, she would be free to find her real prince for life.
Manus and Danya were married only for the law. Afterward, in Catholic Brabant, couples traditionally also married in the church. That did not happen with Manus and Danya. The couple would have to remain abstinent.
German troops crawled through the town, consolidating their grip on Holland.
Day after day, Danya stayed inside, taking on kitchen chores for Manus. This morning, she peeked through the back window, looking out at the forest. A black piece of canvas flapped in the wind, tangled with ropes in one of the trees. She could barely make out the form of a man, slumped towards one side. He struggled to stand. Calling Manus, they looked at what was going on in the woods. Manus had an idea.
“I know who that is,” Manus said. “A parachutist landed in our woods! Look at him in the branches. See his parachute tangled? I heard his plane last night. It must have been shot down. We must help him. Let’s go!” They hurried through the woods and were upon the downed aviator in minutes. Manus noticed he was English by his uniform. They approached cautiously. He was badly injured.
“Hi, do you need help?” Manus asked him. At first, he failed to respond, but slowly he opened his eyes.
“I am a Royal Air Force pilot … my plane was shot down one kilometer from here. I was able to parachute out. As I climbed down from the high branches, I lost my footing and landed hard on a tree stump, breaking my leg. I am hurting badly.” They heard search dogs barking in the distance.
Between the two of them, they helped him hobble on one leg to the safety of the castle. Danya sprang into action and boiled water to treat the open wound. Manus gathered food and a drink, which the aviator gladly accepted.
“We will hide you from the search party,” Manus reassured him. “I know whom I should contact. He is with the Dutch Underground.” Within days, the flyer recuperated and became anxious to return to England.
Manus received word from Arie to drop the aviator off at a specific location outside of town. He reminded Manus that the tricycle he used for Danya was the perfect transport vehicle.
It was a rainy day, and Danya decided to handle the transport by herself. She needed to dress in disguise. Once the aviator laid down in the secret space of the tricycle, Manus loaded debris from his carvings on top of it to hide the false compartment.
Danya was not too happy with the heavy load Manus had piled in the tricycle. After pedaling in the pouring rain for a couple of hours, exhaustion set in, making it impossible for her to reach her destination. Just then, she heard German troops ordering her to stop at a checkpoint.
“Papiere!” they yelled. Danya produced her false passport. She told them the stones were for construction on a small dam in a tributary. Due to the heavy rain, the Germans believed her story, waving her through. The fear of being arrested made her tremble inside, but outwardly, she remained calm.
She followed directions to the letter, avoiding more checkpoints until she arrived at a farmhouse where she was to use a specific door knock and have her password ready: “Schort raapje.” The Dutch Underground was partial to passwords from the vegetable world, with words challenging to pronounce for the Germans.
Finally, she spotted the little farmhouse with its thatched roof nestled between rows of poplar trees. She rode her tricycle around the back to the rear door. First, three short taps on the door, then two long pause taps. She waited anxiously for someone to come to the door. The curtain in the little rear window moved slightly, and she saw the face of a smiling older woman. She had arrived.
The rear door opened and she stated her password. The elderly woman indicated her reply code in a firm voice: “The frogs are still dancing.” Danya rolled her tricycle inside the farmhouse.
Her elderly husband came out to see what the commotion was. His wife warmly embraced Danya and proceeded to help free the flyer from the false bottom of the tricycle. He had lost consciousness. After a few minutes, he came to, and she offered him a cigarette, followed by food and water. Soon, he was feeling better.
Danya was amazed to find these seniors with the courage to take in an RAF aviator. If the Germans were to find out, they would kill them both. It was not the first time they had helped parachutists who landed in their fields. In their eighties, they found the will to fight for the Dutch Resistance Movement. To Danya, they were the real heroes of the Dutch Resistance. During her trip home, she reflected on her life with Manus and compared it to the sharp will and dedication of the elderly couple to fight the enemy together. She felt exasperated that Manus failed to be a Circassian with a mission. She wondered if the time had arrived to join the resistance on her own.
That evening, back in her hiding place, Danya fell asleep, resolute in her decision to join the resistance the next day. She must get in touch with Arie.
Chapter 13
The Resistance
On this fall day, the sun set in a festival of reds and purples. Danya took time to dress warmly in her old woman disguise. The wooden shoes made her disgui
se all too authentic, but not so easy to ride her bicycle. She was getting good at eluding the guards at the checkpoints. They had no problem recognizing her as “the old lady from Castle Lindendale.” After helping the aviator in the woods, Danya assisted others who were friendly to the resistance movement. She had yet to join the resistance movement officially. She wanted to prove she could take the risk of joining the ranks of underground workers.
Her first job involved delivering stolen food stamps from the Census Bureau to the family De Ruys. Arie had a hand in the theft of the two hundred food coupons. Danya picked up the bundle and bicycled it to the designated address. All went well until she attempted to repeat the drop three days later.
The resistance warned her that the Gestapo had set a trap to catch underground workers at this address. Two agents hid in the De Ruys’ house, ready to entrap anyone arriving with false food stamps. She decided to take a significant risk. Wearing her usual disguise, she hid a bottle of red ink to mark the house as a Gestapo-occupied domicile to be avoided at all cost by the underground.
It was raining on the evening of the mission. As Danya turned onto the street, she noticed an elderly couple with an umbrella walking home near her destination. She made a quick decision to circle the block and return, hopefully with a more successful result. This time the street was wet but empty. Without hesitation, she grabbed the bottle and smashed it forcefully against the wall of the façade. She was surprised at how big a mark the red ink had left. At the same time, she was worried about the noise of the breaking glass. She pedaled home contentedly, proud of her action, despite the falling rain. Success.
The resistance movement in Holland had started soon after the invasion. Dutch people showed enormous courage to resist the occupation in a variety of ways. There was something else they took pride in—teaching Hitler a lesson. During the planning stages before the war, the German General staff believed that Holland would be a country easily overrun. They thought the Dutch would welcome the invading forces with open arms. While it is true that the Dutch are of Germanic ethnic origin, this did not stand in the way of their intense national pride. Hitler had miscalculated the joy the invasion would bring to the Dutch, who instead greeted their invaders with scorn and hatred. The Dutch were too much in love with their freedom. They stood ready to fight to the death for their beliefs.
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