The Daughters of Marburg
A Historical Fiction by Terrance D. Williamson
Dedicated to:
My eternal son,
My loving daughter,
And my patient wife.
Copyright of Terrance D. Williamson.
Introduction
I can confidently assert that I’m not unique in my enjoyment of stories which inspire, despite the overwhelming malice that the protagonist endures, especially in circumstances as grave as Nazi Germany.
When I read a true story about young women such as Sophie Scholl or Hannie Schaft, it gives me immense courage. These are young women who faced the leviathan of their day while armed with nothing but the courage which resounded in their hearts.
The book which you are about to read is largely inspired by events which happened to people like Sophie and Hannie. While this book is not based on any single person, the characters are instead based on a culmination of journal entries, eyewitness accounts, and documentation from the era.
I have strung these stories together to make one continuous narrative. Of course, liberties have been taken for dramatic effect, but everything which occurs in this book as an event did, in fact, happen.
I also would like to clarify that I used the location of Marburg for the setting of these stories as I love the place. Its beauty, mystery, and historical and literary significance have inspired me as a writer. Some of the events did happen in Marburg, while other events happened in other cities and countries across Europe. Still, I have chosen Marburg as the focal point due to my affinity for the city and to centralize the plot.
This is the story of those who did not give in to fear.
DISCLAIMER: While certain events are taken from the lives of those who lived during this horrible period in history, this is the fictional telling of the historical events and is, in no way, the actual representation of those people or the locations. I would encourage anyone interested to research and read about the extraordinary events that have been fictionalized in my book.
Chapter One:
A Chance Encounter
“There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self.”
Ernest Hemingway
Germany, December 10, 1938
Lilly sat discontentedly on the train as she stared out the window watching the world pass by. She was displeased at her father’s decision to leave Berlin and wasn’t troubled in the slightest that he should be aware of her disapproval. Glancing over at her father, Mr. Karl Sommer, who was sitting across from her and writing intensely in his workbook, she gave him an unappreciative yet hidden scowl.
Immediately, guilt plagued her for the gesture, and she retreated from her immaturity. Not to mention the fear of her father catching her was enough to quell any further eruptions. If Mr. Sommer had noticed her manifestation of loathing, then there would be little in the way of clemency. Not that he was an unbearably strict man, but when his temper was stirred, he had a certain demeanor that intimidated even the stoutest of men. Lilly knew he would never lay a wrathful finger on her, but still, there was a certain warning in his angry glare that hinted at the possibility, and that was enough for Lilly.
Not to mention that she was dually fortunate that her older sister, Edith, who was also sitting across from Lilly, hadn’t noticed the disgruntlement. If she had, it was undoubtable that Edith would have immediately informed their father with extreme prejudice.
The two sisters were at the calamitous age of adolescence, where they both equally despised each other while also being the closest of companions. Despite irritable outbreaks and sly remarks, they would often spend hours in happy camaraderie.
Lilly recognized that this constant change of position of friendship between the girls was a serious strain on their father’s mental state. Yet, for the most part, he apathetically bowed out from their arguments. To be fair, both of the girls were approaching adulthood, where Edith was turning twenty in a month’s time, and Lilly was just shy of eighteen. The girls were old enough to settle disputes among themselves without his intervention, or so he professed.
It was at this moment, however, while they were on the train that Lilly was determined to draw upon her lesser qualities in her stubborn attempt to showcase her disapproval of the move to Marburg. She knew it was infantile to be so disrespectful, but she was beside herself with rage at what she perceived as the “destruction of her life.”
Berlin was the epicenter of high society, and naturally, it was where Lilly thrived. Not that her birth and rank were of any particular remark, but she relished being close to those who were influential. She had made close friends with women of significance and caught an eye or two from men who could lift their family out of poverty should marriage be arranged. To be fair, their family was the furthest thing from impoverished, but Lilly’s taste in fine clothing demanded extravagance. Anything less than bottomless coffers was, in Lilly’s eyes, a serious deficiency.
Glancing at Edith again, Lilly covertly scrunched her nose in disgust at her sister’s poor fashion sense. She was “adorned” in a burgundy dress which seemed to simply sit on Edith without any proper attention to the gifts of nature her sister was endowed with. Lilly supposed it was ordinary for sisters to compare and have certain jealousies of each other when it came to appearances, and she was infuriated with Edith’s beauty. Strictly speaking, she wasn’t enraged entirely from a sense of envy, although that did exist, but rather from her sister’s apparent dismissal of the benefits.
Lilly went to great lengths to procure interest from men, whereas Edith could gild herself in a boring dress, pay little to no attention to styling her hair, refuse to employ makeup, and still be the most sought-after woman in the room. It was unfair that someone so blessed by nature could be so contemptuous of its gifts.
Still, Lilly understood that the real, genuine reason that she was so covetous of her sister’s looks was the fact that she was an exact imitation of their late mother. With brown hair, light brown eyes, and just a touch of olive skin, Edith was the very manifestation of Eva Sommer.
Even though it had been a few years since Mrs. Sommer’s tragic passing, Lilly still felt its sting. She had been kindred spirits with her mother, and the loss of that connection and intimacy tore at her spirit.
It was an odd thing, Lilly supposed, that Edith resembled her mother while her character mirrored their father’s. Conversely, Lilly was identical in appearance to Mr. Sommer, barring gender, of course, while she carried her mother’s nature for adventure and excitement. It made her quite sad, if she was to be honest, that she felt so isolated even when around her remaining family. Lilly accepted that Edith and her father were contented with each other’s temperaments, but she felt continuously misjudged by their failure to grasp her disposition.
“It’s difficult not to become self-conscious with you staring at me like that,” Edith spoke as she continued to read her book.
“I’m not staring.” Lilly jerked her gaze away, embarrassed that she had been found out.
“Fine, deny it if you must.” Edith shot a glare at Lilly before returning her attention to her novel.
“I was just curious what you were reading.” Lilly cleared her throat as she concealed the truth.
“Brave New World,” Edith replied while still reading.
“I don’t understand how you do that,” Lilly grumbled.
“Do what?” Edith sighed as she looked up.
“How can you read that book so openly even though it was banned? Also, it’s unnerving that you can read and have a conversation at the same time.”
“Well, I’d hate to unnerve you.” Edith put the book down be
side her, and their father glanced up from his work, briefly, wondering if he should extinguish a fire while it was still just a spark. As usual, he allowed the spat to develop in the hopes that they would simply leave him alone.
“In answer to your first question,” Edith began as she jutted out her jaw with a flair of arrogance, “this book is an education.”
“An education?” Lilly raised an eyebrow. “On what?”
“The dangers of giving up what makes us human,” Edith retorted condescendingly. “Huxley warns, through his fiction, that there may come a time in the future where governments will use pharmacological methods to strip us of our rights and freedoms. Yet we will be too distracted by the propaganda and brainwashing that we will even begin to love our servitude.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Lilly scoffed. “Such dark imaginings are unrealistic.”
“Continuing on your first question”—Edith cleared her throat—“while I applaud the Nazis for returning this country to some semblance of self-respect on the world stage, I don’t admire their prohibition on certain literature. To answer your second question”—Edith paused as she prepared to deliver a crushing blow—“I can have a conversation and read at the same time because, with you, it requires such little effort.”
Their father chuckled slightly but then banished the brief smile and cleared his throat, trying to hide that he took any pleasure at Lilly’s expense.
“Papa.” Lilly crossed her arms, requesting his aid in her defense.
“Edith.” Mr. Sommer took Lilly’s side as he looked over his small glasses in warning that Edith had gone too far.
“If you must know, you’re not the only one who reads for education.” Lilly squinted.
“Jane Austen novels are not to be used for instruction,” Edith scoffed as she offered her sister a look of pity.
“They most assuredly are.” Lilly frowned.
“How?” Edith tilted her head, and their father gave a short sigh of annoyance as he tried to focus on his work.
“They illustrate the pitfalls of choosing status over affection,” Lilly defended admirably. “They’re a tutelage of the dangers of prejudice and how one must also follow their heart.”
“I would argue that they are a lack of education.” Edith smirked. “They fill your head with nonsense and make you believe that romance is all that matters. It’s dreadful and girlish, and you should be ashamed that you are blemishing our sex with such drivel. It’s novels like those which make men believe us to be inferior.”
“That’s not—”
“And”—Edith held up a finger to interrupt—“it is novels like those which have made this move to Marburg so appalling for you. All you read about is love and high society, and you’ve stuffed your head with these useless distractions.”
Lilly narrowed her gaze as she studied her sister with contempt. “If I were at least afforded with a decent explanation, then maybe I would have been more accepting of this venture. I still have not found satisfactory reasoning behind our abandonment of established friendships and comforts.”
“I will not discuss this again.” Mr. Sommer set his notepad down and looked at Lilly with contained wrath.
“I understand.” Lilly looked again out the window before continuing sarcastically, “I shall be your dutiful daughter and keep silent.”
“Alright.” Mr. Sommer removed his glasses and placed them in his breast pocket as he leaned back and prepared to begin his monologue. “I shall, once more, explain my position to you.”
“I’m aware of the reasons”—Lilly held up a hand to stop her father—“but I don’t understand why any of them countered the life we had in Berlin.”
“This is an important opportunity for my career.” Mr. Sommer looked indignantly at his daughter. “I have the great privilege of entering into a position at the administration offices at the City Hall in Marburg. If I perform admirably, then maybe this will allow me to leverage my position into something better, which would mean more money for a larger house, servants, and it could possibly satisfy your endless craving for fine dress.”
Edith snickered slightly as she relished in the victory over her sister.
“You believe yourself innocent, do you?” Mr. Sommer turned to Edith, who was startled to find herself on the receiving end of his irritation when she perceived the instigator to clearly be Lilly.
“How have I erred?” Edith looked at her father curiously.
“You know how important it is that I focus”—Mr. Sommer tapped the notepad in front of him—“but instead, you insist on inciting your sister to trivial arguments which distract me from getting anything accomplished.”
“Sorry, Papa.” Edith turned away in shame.
“What are you working so tirelessly on, anyways?” Lilly frowned.
“I’m trying to organize everything for our new address.” Mr. Sommer picked up the notepad and retrieved his glasses.
“Speaking of which”—Lilly bit her lip as she was lost to thought, and Mr. Sommer removed his glasses quickly as he glared at his daughter with impatience—“don’t you find it odd that we’re being provided with free lodging?”
“The house was vacant.” Mr. Sommer shrugged. “They offered me the position at Marburg and advised we could stay at the residence.”
“A vacant house does sound peculiar.” Edith also looked curiously at her father, and Lilly knew that he was hiding something.
Mr. Sommer had an odd tell when he was trying to disguise the truth or hide it altogether. A small area on his neck, just below the left side of his jaw, would turn crimson as if he were blushing. He called it his curse, but Lilly remembered, with a smile, as their mother would relish in its existence.
“How long has the house been vacant?” Lilly asked.
“About a month.” Mr. Sommer returned his glasses as he attempted to flee the line of questioning that would undoubtedly follow.
“A month?” Edith leaned forward and glanced at Lilly, who understood the implication. “So, this residency was subject to the pogroms, or the Night of Broken Glass as they’re now calling it?”
“In other words, it’s a Jewish residency?” Lilly squinted.
“That’s correct.” Mr. Sommer cleared his throat.
“You condemned the seizure of property in this manner.” Edith studied her father warily. “You stated it was unethical.”
“That I did.” Mr. Sommer affirmed quietly before glancing around the train car to make sure that no one was listening too intently.
“What changed?” Lilly pressed.
“Nothing changed.” Mr. Sommer paused as he collected his thoughts. “I simply…saw an opportunity.”
“To be unethical?” Edith scoffed.
“I am your father!” Mr. Sommer turned towards Edith with a severe scowl. “You will show me the respect I deserve. I’ve looked after the both of you myself for quite some time now on my own. It hasn’t been leisurely, to say the least, with two pubescent girls. I responded to the job opportunity, and they offered the residency to me. I thought it would be foolish to turn it down. Lastly, Aryanizing a Jewish property is a great honor, at least in the eyes of the Nazi Party. Who knows what will come of our service.”
The two girls sat silently out of respect for their father. It was clear to Lilly that his conscience was burdened by guilt, yet she didn’t dare broach the subject again for fear of another outburst. Glancing over at Edith, Lilly noticed that she was embarrassed and not pleased in the slightest for being addressed in that fashion, especially when she perceived that she had done nothing to warrant the reaction.
With a huff, Mr. Sommer returned to his work while Edith opened her book again as her cheeks burned crimson. Surprised that she felt even an inkling of concern for her sister, Lilly wished she could comfort Edith with the notion that their father’s response was undeserved. Mr. Sommer was under considerable stress at the moment, anyway, and Lilly recognized that they had engaged in an unworthy dispute.
T
he truth was that Lilly, too, was quite anxious about the move. Not only due to her departure from friends and influence, but rather, the unease of being somewhere foreign to her. Only on one occasion, in her nearly eighteen years of existence, had she ventured outside of Berlin.
She and Edith had been sent to a weeklong religious youth group meeting in the nearby countryside when she was about fifteen. While she didn’t entirely remember the reason their father had sent the girls on the trip, as he himself wasn’t entirely religious, she distinctively recalled the boredom. Not necessarily from the lectures, which, if she were to admit, carried some weight and, surprisingly, she could still recite most of the scripture she learned.
She used to find it comforting to whisper the passages, especially at night when she was afraid, but when her mother passed, Lilly found it difficult to engage in anything spiritual. Not that she didn’t believe in God or a higher power, but rather, she deemed the Almighty indifferent to suffering. He had turned a deaf ear to her calls for healing, and Lilly felt forsaken.
Still, she didn’t want to offer these heavier contemplations any further thought than necessary and instead clung to the provincial pursuits of status and romance. She knew it was a poor habit to drown herself in such frivolities, and it would produce ill fruit, but it was an addiction of sorts. She only prayed that Marburg wouldn’t be too heavy of a withdrawal.
The boredom she felt during the youth group venture stemmed from those she was surrounded by. While she was typically girlish in many respects, she abhorred the lesser feminine practices which so many of her sex accepted without question. She despised idle gossip or romance without substance, and Lilly wasn’t entirely certain where she stood in the world.
She wasn’t as intellectual as Edith, but she wasn’t mindless, either. It was true that she adored Jane Austin novels, but that was more out of respect for the language. Even when translated into German, the author’s sophistication shone through. There was a poeticism in how the words flowed, but she knew that if she argued this point with Edith, it would only be met with mockery.
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