Beneath the Universe

by Jennifer Gaskill Miller

  He flew down the stairs and reaching the front door threw it open. As he came around the corner where his window looked out he saw them. There were two figures in the dark, one up against the house, the other striking with ferocity. When the searchlight swept past he saw her. It was only for an instant but he knew exactly who was being beaten and he lunged at her attacker. He was not at all prepared, barefoot and bare-chested, but he had the element of surprise on his side as he shoved the brute into the mud. The assailant slammed into the ground, a spray of filth and rainwater leaping out around him. He slipped in the puddle trying to stand and when he finally got to his feet he cocked his fist to come after Blaz, but stopped short.

  “Dieter?” Blaz gaped.

  “Sir,” came the breathless reply.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Blaz demanded.

  “Major, you don’t understand. This is a private matter. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

  “Considering that an officer under my command is involved I’d say that it has everything to do with me. Now what the hell is going on?”

  “She has . . . wronged me and . . . I’m only doing . . . what any other man . . . would do.” Dieter was out of breath, rushing to explain.

  “No. Not any other man, beast maybe, but not man. Pack your things. I want you on a truck within the hour.”

  “You’ve no right!” Dieter argued. He had recovered from his plummet into the mud and was clamoring back to his self appointed pedestal. But Blaz had had enough.

  “Go! You’ve bragged to everyone here that you can go anywhere you wish so I’m telling you now, go anywhere but here! And don’t even think about threatening me or I’ll call your father myself and tell him what kind of brutality you call a man’s right.”

  Blaz stepped into him, his face inches from Dieter’s; his eyes scalpels cutting into Dieter’s haughty expression. Dieter pushed out his bottom lip and clenched his fists before he finally looked away, beaten. He was barely inside when Blaz turned his attention to Theatrice who was slumped and barely conscious. He took her arm and lifted it over his shoulders, letting her lean her body against him as they went inside. She managed up the steps to the front door, but where Blaz had left it open the rain had entered and formed a puddle. Theatrice slipped, her already weak body giving way. But Blaz caught her before she hit the floor and lifted her into his arms. He carried her like a baby up the stairs to his room. She pressed her forehead against his neck and murmured, “My hero. How romantic.”

  He ignored her, knowing she was half dazed and possibly hallucinating. He laid her out on his bed and sat in a chair beside her, trying to process what had happened. Should he call for the doctor? What would the doctor think, seeing her in Blaz’ bed? Should he tend to her wounds himself? Would he even know how to examine a woman? Was Dieter really the secret lover she had spoken of? So many questions and yet no answers to explain why a battered woman in a soaking wet shift was now in his room.

  Theatrice was shivering so Blaz folded his bedding over her, covering her illicit figure. The movement startled her.

  “Sir?” she said, her eyes closed, one swollen shut.

  “I’m here,” he whispered, taking her hand.

  “Oh, Blaz.” She smiled weakly and fell asleep.

  Blaz released her hand. He was freezing himself, shivering and muddy from the tousle downstairs. He knew it was indecent to bathe with a woman in the room, even if she was asleep. So he took his clothes into the bathroom and shut the door to dress, without bathing. He washed his face and hands in the sink and used a towel to wipe the mud from his arms and stomach and feet. Then he put on his uniform and combed his hair. Looking in the mirror, he didn’t recognize himself. He seemed so old, he thought. He had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was starting to recede. Not the time for vanity, he thought. He opened the door, bathing Theatrice in the bathroom light. She was sleeping peacefully, the blankets rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. Blaz switched off the light and went to the bed. He pulled the blanket higher over her shoulder, swept the hair from her face and sighed with exhaustion. How could anyone hurt such a gentle creature, he wondered. Then he put on his boots quietly and took his cap into the hall. He shut the door slowly, letting the latch click before he released the knob. As he turned he came face to face with Claus. Claus glared at him, his expression strange.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” He asked Blaz.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean what’s that woman doing in your room? She’s not even dressed.”

  “She’s hurt. I’m taking care of her.”

  Blaz was about to push past him as if that were an explanation but Claus grabbed him by the arm.

  “You’re forgetting yourself, Hauptsturmfuhrer,” Blaz warned.

  “No, sir,” Claus retorted, his eyes narrowing, “It is you who is forgetting yourself.”

  Blaz shook off his grip. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t do something you’ll regret.” Claus voice was quieter, steady the way Blaz knew him to be.

  “It’s not like that, Claus. She and Dieter are together. They were together,” he corrected himself. “He was beating her right below my window. What was I supposed to do?”

  Claus sighed. “I don’t know. But she’s been asking questions about you, uses your given name. You need to distance yourself. If not for your own sake then at least think of Giselle.”

  “What’s Giselle got to do with it?”

  “Blaz, I’m your best friend and to me it looks bad. Don’t give people a reason to think the worst of you. Tread carefully, that’s all I’m saying.”

  “Look, I’m helping a woman in trouble. Not that woman, just a woman. That’s all there is to it.”

  Claus thought for a moment.

  “Alright, what can I do?”

  Blaz cleared his throat, relieved to have his loyal friend back on his side. “Dieter is leaving tonight. Go down to the office and get the papers ready to transfer him.”

  “Transferred where?”

  “Anywhere he wants. I just want him gone.”

  Claus nodded curtly and pivoted to return down the hall but Blaz stopped him.

  “Claus?”

  Claus halted.

  “Sir?”

  “We’ll have to write up a report.”

  “I’ll take care of it. I saw the whole thing.”

  Blaz felt his heart begin to race. “What exactly did you see? Why didn’t you do anything to stop it?”

  Claus remained cool and even. “Because it isn’t as simple as you think.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s not exactly the damsel in distress that she wants everyone to see her as.”

  “Claus, I saw him. He had her up against the side of the house and was hitting her with all his force. Are you going to stand there and tell me this woman is not a victim?”

  “No, but I do think you ought to realize she may not be as much of a victim as she’s leading you to believe.”

  “Fine. I’ll tread carefully, as you say. You’d do well to tread carefully, yourself. Don’t include that they were romantically involved. Just describe that you saw him attack her and I intervened.”

  “That is all that will be in my report, sir.”

  Blaz sighed, relieved. He smiled the way men do when they have an understanding with one another, grateful and reserved. Claus saluted and left to make the arrangements while Blaz went to make certain that Dieter was packing.

  He knocked on the door, trying not to allow his face to show his anger. He envied Claus, his ability to appear so calm all the time. Dieter opened the door, his hair matted with sweat and mud, as were his clothes. His suitcase was on the bed, items stuffed into it and others strewn about the room and on the mattress.

  “You are being transferred for insubordination, attempting to strike a superior officer. Do you admit the charges?”

  “Sturmbannfuhrer, I didn’t know it
was you!”

  “Let me be clear. I can make things a great deal worse for you if you give me trouble. Now you can accept the transfer and pick up right where you left off in some new camp with some new girl and that pompous attitude of yours. Or you can go up against me, your word against mine and the broken body of a woman to testify against you. You may have friends in high places but mark me, with the friends I have I can make certain you are stripped of your title and all honors and never serve in any faction of the military or police for the rest of your life.”

  Dieter swallowed, his pride sliding audibly right down his throat. “I accept the transfer. Hail Hitler.”

  “Hail Hitler.” Blaz was about to leave, exhausted.

  “She isn’t what you think she is.”

  Why was everyone so suspicious of Theatrice? Blaz wondered. He would take a warning from Claus but certainly not from the Giraffe.

  “How do you know what I think she is? She’s a woman and an unarmed one and unless I am mistaken about those facts then there is nothing more I need know.”

  “She’s a liar. And a fornicator.”

  “You seemed to take advantage of the latter when you were climbing into her bed.”

  “I mean we had an understanding and she was unfaithful.”

  “What understanding? That she is committed to you while you are free? Not very understanding if you ask me.”

  “No, sir. I loved her. I never publicly saw anyone else.”

  “You never publicly saw her.”

  “I was going to. But then she-” Dieter stopped. The haughty expression was back on his face. Blaz couldn’t be sure but he thought he saw a trace of victory in Dieter’s beady eyes. “I thought you didn’t know her.”

  Blaz crimsoned. “I don’t.”

  “Then how would you know if I saw her or not?”

  “I see you. You’re never with anyone.” Blaz congratulated himself on his quick lie. Dieter turned his head suspiciously, thinking it over. Eventually, he seemed to accept Blaz’ explanation and moved on.

  “She told me she was with child.”

  Blaz took a deep and steady breath.

  “She’s pregnant? With your child?”

  “No! Not my child!” Dieter shouted, a drop of spit dancing on his lower lip.

  “How can you be sure?” Blaz enjoyed being calm when Dieter was losing control. Perhaps he was a little like Claus after all.

  “I just know. I was always very careful. My brothers taught me how to . . . avoid that sort of thing. There are certain days and . . . positions.”

  “You really are an idiot, aren’t you?”

  “I am not.”

  They were back to their usual squabbling. Blaz wanted to leave when a stray thought grabbed him.

  “Why her?” Blaz asked, then more to himself, “Why you? Of all the men, why would she be with you?”

  “I’m charming,” Dieter quipped. He was being cavalier. Blaz didn’t like it under normal circumstances and he certainly didn’t like it now.

  “No, you’re not. Honestly, why is someone like her involved with someone like you?”

  Dieter’s eyebrows went up, his suspicions returning. “You like her.”

  “What?” Blaz scoffed.

  “You do. Oh, it all makes sense now. You weren’t defending her because she’s a woman. You were defending her because she’s your woman!”

  “No, she’s not. And if you repeat that lie to anyone-“

  “No need,” Dieter raised his arms in false conciliation. “Your secret is safe with me, sir. Let’s me off the hook for the bastard she’s carrying, anyway. One thing you might want to know,” Dieter lowered his hands and leaned forward as if about to impart something truly important. “She likes it rough. And I don’t mean a little pounding on the headboard. I’m talking vicious. Tonight’s not anywhere near the hardest I’ve battered her and she loved it.”

  Blaz lunged at Dieter, but was caught by Claus who had come in the door behind him.

  “Let it go, sir. He’s leaving anyway,” Claus whispered.

  “That’s right. Off to bigger and better things than this cesspool.”

  “Everything’s ready for the transfer,” Claus said calmly. “Where would you like to go? Berlin, I’m guessing?”

  “No,” Dieter grinned wickedly. “Berlin is more to my father’s taste. Send me to Auschwitz.” He laughed as he latched his suitcase and straightened his tie. Stopping in the doorway he looked Blaz over and shook his head, musing over his own private joke.

  “Hail Hitler,” he saluted joyously before strolling down the hall.

  Blaz let Claus finish the papers and see Dieter to his car. He returned to his room and found Theatrice sitting up on his bed in the dark. After he shut the door he walked around to face her. She would not meet his gaze. The bedside lamp was within reach, so he bent and turned it on. The marks on her face seemed to shout at him in the sudden light. One eye was still swollen shut. The other had an angry welt. All over her chest and bare arms were more bruises.

  “Theatrice,” he started to say, but she burst into sobs and all he could do was stand idly, not knowing if it was alright to touch her. Claus’ suspicions were ringing in his mind. But looking at her all he felt was pity. He waited uncomfortably for her tears to subside.

  “Is it true you are with child?” He asked.

  She nodded, not surprised by his question.

  “And it’s his?”

  She nodded again, wincing from pain or shame or both.

  “You could go to the Lebensborn [7]center. At least we know the child is pure. You’d be welcome there, treated well.”

  “I can’t go there,” she whispered.

  “Why ever not?”

  “Because they won’t let me keep the baby if I’m not married to the father. Dieter could claim it any time he wanted and I’d be powerless to stop him.”

  “I don’t think you have to worry about that. He doesn’t think the baby is his.”

  “I know. That’s why . . .” She couldn’t finish. Her fingers traced her bruises as she tried to find the words. “Besides, I don’t think I’m pregnant anymore.” The sobbing started anew. She moved the pillow that had been in her lap and Blaz saw the blood, not a lot, but enough. He nodded.

  “My wife has lost children, too. My condolences. Perhaps, you could take a leave of absence until you are well again. Then you can come back and pretend this never happened.”

  “Blaz? I mean, Sturmbannfuhrer . . . I’m sorry, I’m so very tired.”

  “It’s alright. I think given the circumstances it’s alright for you to call me by my given name. You’ve already seen me half naked twice.”

  They both smiled a little at this.

  “I don’t think I can come back here. Is that weak?”

  Blaz thought.

  “No, no I don’t think so. You’re a woman. You’re supposed to be,” he searched for the right word, “Sensitive.”

  “I should never have come here. I should have finished my nurses training. I came here because I thought he would protect me. Silly girl. At least I had you. You protect me.”

  “Well,” he smiled, “You’ll have to find someone else for that now.”

  “Maybe not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I could stay close by, get a job somewhere in town.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “Nothing. I don’t mean anything by it. I just thought we could be friends, is all. Can’t we be friends?”

  Blaz was thinking. If he was being honest with himself he didn’t want Theatrice to go. In the little time they’d spent together he had come to feel like her protector. If she went away, any number of tragedies might befall her. But if she stayed the way she was suggesting, no one would ever believe it was innocent. This is exactly what Claus had been talking about. People would talk. Maybe he could find her a job somewhere close by and check in on her, not often but every now and then. It would be a kindness, a superior of
ficer helping a subordinate. Then it hit him. The obvious solution was right there. But what would Claus think? He decided it didn’t matter.

  “Theatrice, how would you feel about living with my family?”

  Her eyes lit up.

  “Understand it would be a position of servitude. My wife is going to have a baby and she’s been injured. The doctor insists she be on permanent bed rest until the baby comes. We’ve hired a nurse to come to the house every day but perhaps, with your training, you can replace her. You can assist Giselle with chores and be there should anything go wrong. It would be a great help to us. And then Giselle would have someone taking care of her at night, too. Of course, if you think it would be difficult for you having just lost . . .”

  “No, no I’ll be alright. I’d love it.” Theatrice grinned openly now, her tear streaked face the picture of gratitude.

  “Alright. I’ve got to be here tomorrow. We’re getting a big transfer from Auschwitz. But if we leave now, I can get you there and be back by morning. Can you pack a few things?”

  Theatrice didn’t take much, just a small satchel and a suitcase. Blaz asked Claus to drive. Theatrice slept most of the way, her bruised face pressed against the cool window. He couldn’t sleep but maybe he could get a few hours in at home before they had to go back. They came in quietly and Claus helped Blaz support Theatrice inside. Blaz invited him to stay but Claus insisted he’d stay with the car. Blaz knew he didn’t approve of the new arrangement.

  Inside, the house was quiet. Giselle and Cora were both asleep as Blaz helped Theatrice up the stairs. He left her at the top so he could collect her things from the entry. When he came back Theatrice had made her way down the hall and was standing in an open doorway. It was the baby’s room. The nursery was nearly finished. There were toys and blankets, a beautiful crib and rocking chair Blaz had collected from a confiscated Jewish home. Theatrice looked around the room, her hand to her belly, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Blaz didn’t say a word, but closed the door and led Theatrice to the guest room.