Certain Demolitions: Play a Fantasia
Summary: 5. Munich, November 1939. Herr Rosenbaum was an old friend of the Gavin family, which was the only reason Kristoph agreed to buy his factory.
Chapter 5: Day of Wrath and Doom Impending
[Status: Cannon in the context of C.D.]
November, 1939
Munich, Germany
It was only chance that they met on the street. Kristoph does most of his work from his office at home, though about twice a week he goes out to send a telegram to one corner of Germany or the other.
Heinrich Rosenbaum was no longer working at the bank by this point. He was still keeping an eye on his company, which specialized in paper products. The factory had been an inheritance from his grandfather, and his grandfather had used it to build the family's fortune.
But Heinrich had liked numbers more than he liked paper, so he had gone into banking and left the factory in charge of a foreman. Since he had been let go from his position as one of the vice-presidents of the bank, he's had more time to mind the factory.
He was trying to stay positive, but it was getting harder to do so all the time. All he needed was for one of his employees to denounce him before he would be forced to leave the company altogether. This was part of the reason he had cut back of the number of employees he had. The other reason was that many people refused to pay for the things they ordered from him anymore, since he was Jewish, and he had begun to wonder what to do.
Really, he had begun to wonder how much longer this could go one before he and his family would have to leave.
It was a rainy day when he met Kristoph Gavin on the street. Gavin was wearing his Ulster coat ove rhis blue suit, and using his cane, as he was wont to do on days when it rained. He nodded politely at the other man. "Herr Rosenbaum."
"Herr Gavin." Heinrich replied. He was about to continue on his way, but then he stopped and turned back around. "Herr Gavin, do you have a moment?"
Kristoph paused, and turned back to face him. "I suppose I do. Certainly I have nothing pressing to handle."
It's hard for Heinrich, sometimes, to see Kristoph, because he remembers when Kristoph became a cripple, remembers when a few years after that, Klarissa Gavin had died, leaving her oldest son to care for the younger. He always wondered what Kristoph would have been like if he'd actually been given a chance to grow up; if the world had not crashed in and dropped so many things on him that had forced him to go from child to adult overnight.
Kristoph's careful speech and graceful smile are gestures that say nothing. It's a wise trait to have in these times. But Heinrich was disconcerted one day when he looked up and realized he can't remember the boy who Kristoph used to be, before he put that mask of cool elegance and careful planning on and became one with it.
He puts those thoughts away. They benefit no one now. "I'd like to speak to you about some business matters."
The blond considered it, and nodded.
They end up on the Rosenbaum's front porch, where they will be out of the rain. No one is out to overhear them. Heinrich won't even think about asking Kristoph in. It's too much of a risk these days. And if there are going to be risks, he needs them to be calculated.
"I'd like to interest you in a business proposition." Heinrich said. "I'm looking to sell my company."
Blue eyes meet brown ones for a long moment. But Kristoph doesn't need explanations.
"You've always been a good friend to my family." Kristoph said finally. "I will buy your company." He doesn't want to buy it. He doesn't want to be a businessman, and he sometimes wished he could go back in time and keep his ancestors – brilliant businessmen, all of them – from spreading Gavin money all over investments in Germany, money that he's now working to remove from all of those businesses.
Heinrich nodded. "You are an attorney. Will you draw up the papers for the sale?"
"If you're going to sell, you should really have an attorney of your own to look over any papers I draw up." The response is automatic, and Kristoph says it before he can think it over all the way. Even he has attorneys to aid him in business matters like this.
Heinrich gave him a long look. "Where would I get an attorney?"
Kristoph looked away. "You're right. Give me the statements of profit from your business, and then give me a couple of days to get the paperwork drawn up."
"Thank you, Herr Gavin."
There was a long pause. "I'm so sorry, Herr Rosenbaum."
(-)
Several Years Earlier
Germany
Heinrich Rosenbaum hadn't been expecting this.
Neither, for that matter, had Frau Klarissa Gavin, who was beside herself. She buried her head in her free hand; her long blonde hair covering her face. "This wasn't supposed to happen." She's frantic, but quiet about it. Little Klavier is sleeping on her free shoulder, having been worn out on the trip here. "It was supposed to be a simple trip! An outing for Kristoph and his uncle!"
Heinrich put a hand on her shoulder. The waiting room of the hospital smells like antiseptic, and everything is very quiet. Nurses in their clean white outfits walk by.
The immediate shock of an ordinance going off in this town, about an hour's travel from Munich, has abated. The dead have been laid out in the morgue, the wounded taken to be cared for. Earlier that afternoon, Heinrich had watched Klavier in this same waiting room while Klarissa went to identify her brother, who had been caught in the explosion. He would be buried in the same cemetery Klarissa's parents were buried in.
Kristoph had been further from the blast radius, so he had survived, but not without injury. Presently he was sleeping off the anesthesia from having a deep cut on his hand stitched back together.
He had no back or head injuries, but his leg had been twisted and pinned by rubble, and the doctors thought his knee had been damaged, but they wouldn't be able to gauge the extent of that damage until he was able to walk again.
For now there was nothing they could do but wait.
Heinrich looked out the window and let his mind wander to his fiancée, dreaming about her green eyes and dark hair. His dreams about what she was going to wear to their wedding were interrupted when he heard Klarissa gasp, and looked up to see men in Nazi uniforms coming down the hall.
"What are they doing here?" Klarissa hissed, holding Klavier tighter. Her grip got so tight that she startled him awake.
"Mama! Mama!" He cried, trying to get her to put him down, or loosen her grip. Klarissa either hadn't heard him or ignored him, clutching him like she expected the Nazis to demand that she hand over her child.
"I heard that the Fuhrer was coming." Heinrich said flatly. He'd hoped that his informer had been wrong, but that didn't seem to be the case. "He wanted to visit the injured, because he thinks this is an act of aggression by the rest of Europe."
"Visit!?" Klarissa spat. "If my husband were alive, that Viennese gutter scum wouldn't be allowed anywhere near my children!"
The Nazis are very close now. "Klarissa, control yourself!" Heinrich ordered. "You don't know who can overhear you."
She looked ready to retort, but then broke down coughing. She buried her head in her free arm, thrust Klavier at him, and darted away. Her diagnosis of consumption had come earlier that year, and she lived in dread that one of her children would catch it.
"Mama's gone." Klavier said, pensively looking in the direction his mother had vanished.
"She'll be back." Heinrich said, rocking the toddler back and forth. He went to stand by the window, praying that he wouldn't be noticed. He didn't want to attract the attention of these people.
After a few minutes of being rocked, Klavier falls back asleep. Behind him, Heinrich senses the movement of the Nazis. It's disconcerting, and he feels like a mouse in a room full of cats.
Klarissa hasn't come back, but depending on how long it had taken her to get her coughing under control, it doesn't surprise him. And anyway, its better that she stays away while the Nazis are there. She might say something rash.
The Nazis and Hitler are getting ready to leave when one of the senior officials pulls away from the group and comes closer to Heinrich.
He's sweating bullets and he knows it. If he turns around, they'll know exactly what he is, so he looks off into the distance out the window and keeps rocking Klavier.
"What an adorable Aryan child." The official says, looking at Klavier approvingly. "Does he have blue eyes?"
This question feels like a trap. But Heinrich doesn't know what to do other than answer it. "Yes."
"You're not related." This is somewhere between a question and a statement.
"No. I'm minding him until his mother gets back. She needed to step out." Heinrich said, and hoped that the fact that he was a nervous wreck wasn't obvious.
The official drew closer, and Heinrich was sure this was going to be his end. But the man stops, and pats Klavier on the head, and looks immensely pleased as he does. Then he moved off to join the rest of the entourage.
Two thoughts go through Heinrich's head as the Nazis depart and he tries not to hyperventilate. The first is, he's really glad that the official never picked up on the fact that Heinrich was a Jew, because there would have been lots of uncomfortable questions that would have had to be answered. The second is that he's very, very glad that Klarissa had been elsewhere for that, because she might have had a breakdown.
Not that he would blame her; he was feeling a lot like having one himself right now.
Heinrich remembered a Latin chant he'd heard once, long ago when he'd toured Europe. It had been after the Great War ended, and he'd been young and wanted to see the world.
He had stopped at a church that still bore the scars of war, and there was one priest, and some villagers, who had been working on repairing the church since the war happened, but there hadn't been much money to complete the work. They had chanted as they worked, "Dies irae, dies illa, solvet saelclum in favilla, teste David cum Sibylla."
He had asked them what it meant, and had been told, 'Day of wrath and doom impending, David's word with Sibyl's blending, heaven and earth in ashes ending.'
Heinrich hasn't thought of it in years, but now it won't leave his mind. There was more to it, but he can only remember the first verse, and it feels like a prophecy now.
Day of wrath and doom impending…
Heaven and Earth in ashes ending…
(-)
Munich, Germany
November 1939
Kristoph is as good as his word, and has the papers drown up and ready two days after he's given the documents he requested. The price he offers is fair, and he explains all the terms of the agreement carefully, like a good attorney.
Heinrich doesn't care about the terms, and he can't stand to be in front of the younger man's office desk listening to him. He wants to snatch the pen out of Kristoph's hand and sign the papers and be done with it.
This factory was his grandfather's whole life's work. He reminds himself that if his Grandfather were still alive, he would tell Heinirch to put his family first, and not to worry about a silly factory. His Grandfather had been pragmatic like that. This way it will all be out of Heinrich's hands, and he can have money ready in case he and his family need to flee. Already his children have not been allowed to attend school, and he knows things will only get worse.
But it still feels like he's betrayed his Grandfather's trust somehow.
Finally Kristoph finished and offered him the pen.
Heinrich signed his name, added the date, 09 November 1939, and Kristoph signed and notarized it.
"You're welcome to stay on and run the place as long as you like." Kristoph said as he opened one of his desk drawers and tucked the papers inside. "I'll pay you a salary for doing it. I have…many other things I have to work on."
"Thank you, Herr Gavin."
"I'll see to it that you have your money by the end of the day today." Kristoph said flatly.
He thanked the younger man again and departed. Outside the Gavin home, he paused, and then decided to go in to the factory.
He had nothing better to do.
(-)
In spite of the fact he's lost his job at the bank, Heinrich still liked numbers, with their plain and simple rules that made sense. They give him a feeling of stability in a world that's getting madder by the day.
That night, he stayed after the employees had gone home. The books need to be tidied up a little, and he had nothing else that needed to be done. Besides, this way it will be easier on Kristoph when he's gone.
Heinrich pauses and thinks that last statement over again. He's only toyed with the idea of leaving Germany. He's never acknowledged it before.
But tonight he does.
And then the mob comes down the street…
(-)
Kristoph is not very familiar with this part of Munich, and he has to consult the papers from that morning to find the address of the place he's looking for.
He'd inquired with Frau Rosenbaum earlier that evening, and she had told him that Herr Rosenbaum was still at the office.
He's been out of the train station for exactly five minutes when he starts to think that coming here might have been a mistake. There are bands of troublemakers everywhere, smashing windows and looting the small store fronts.
But he is here, and he has the money for Herr Rosenbaum safe in his coat.
Kristoph walks past the troublemakers, who look at him curiously but ignore him once they get a good look at him.
(-)
The sound of glass breaking is the first sign Heinrich has that anything is wrong. The initial noise is followed with the sounds of more glass breaking, and he races out of the room to see what's happening.
Outside, three men are throwing rocks.
"Stop! This is a German owned factory!" Heinrich cried. He didn't know what was going on, but he could guess that as a Jew his former business was in the crossfire because of him.
"Sure it is," One of the attackers scoffed.
And then Kristoph Gavin appeared behind the trio. "As a matter of fact, it is my business you are destroying." He said, adjusting his glasses. His jaw twitched.
"This man has run it for years," One of the attackers said, gesturing at Heinrich.
Kristoph pulled the agreement he had signed just that morning out of his satchel and thrust it at the man. "Read the first paragraph."
The man looked at it.
"Out loud, please." Kristoph ordered. And so the man did, reading the agreement to purchase so that his cohorts could hear it, while Kristoph stood there glowering at him, and looking every inch the "pure" German he was supposed to be.
Heinrich had to appreciate Kristoph's flair for drama.
(-)
It's quite late in the evening by the time Kristoph gets home. They had had to call the police, wait for the police to arrive and handle the vandals. Then Kristoph had given the money to Herr Rosenbaum and suggested they both go home for the night. The conductor had thrown a fit about Heinrich getting on the train to come back home with him. Kristoph had merely ordered the conductor to shut up and get out of the way. Then when the conductor had made the mistake of addressing him as Herr Gavin, he immediately corrected the man and demanded that the conductor refer to him as Pfalzgraf Gavin going forward. It's the first time in his life he's ever ordered anyone to refer to him by his now-obsolete title, but it's been a long night, and he expects to be shown some respect.
Kristoph remembers all the stories his father told him about the duties of nobility, and he is quite sure it's not the duty of nobility to take orders from commoners, especially stupid orders from the king of commoners back in Berlin.
Once he's seen Herr Rosenbaum safely to his house, he crosses the road and enters his house.
And then, suddenly, he remembers Klavier, and runs up the stairs. He has no idea where his brother was going to be tonight, and at the top of the stairs, he can't hear any guitar music. Kristoph swore under his breath though, realistically, neither of them are in any danger. He doesn't remember that in the moment, though.
When he throws open the doors to the library, Klavier looks up curiously from the music pages spread out on the table in front of him. "What is it?" he asked.
Kristoph doesn't answer for the moment, and it alarms Klavier, who sets his guitar to the side and gets to his feet. "Kris, what's wrong?"
Kristoph manages to regain his composure. "Nothing. Nothing is wrong."
"Something is wrong." Klavier insisted. He wasn't about to let his brother off that easily.
Kristoph ignored him and turned away.
"You're limping!" Klavier pointed out.
"Really? I hadn't noticed." Kristoph spat. Really, Klavier doesn't deserve it, but it's been a long day and he's at his wit's end.
Klavier is across the room in what seems like a moment, but he's faster than Kristoph to start with, and he doesn't limp. "What happened?"
"Too much walking." Kristoph replied. It wasn't really a lie, if you were willing to accept that running up a flight of stairs was a type of walking. "I'm going to go to bed. Stay in tonight, please."
"I was going to. I'm trying to compose."
That would be enough to keep Klavier busy. "That's fine. Just…stay in tonight."
"Is something wrong?"
Kristoph paused. Is something wrong? Or is he overacting to a few riots? "I don't know. Please, just do what I tell you and stay inside."
Klavier seemed to realize that something had happened that had thrown his brother off balance. "Alright. I won't go out until the sun is up. Will that be enough?"
"It should be." Kristoph said. "Good night."
"Good night."
Day of wrath and doom impending…
Heaven and earth in ashes ending…
[A/N:] So…this was NOT how I planned to spend my evening…the Rosenbaums have been kind of background characters for awhile in C.D. Now we get to look at the relationship between them and the Gavins in a little more detail.
Ever since the backstory about how Kristoph became a cripple, I've thought this is the sort of things the Nazis would have used for propaganda purposes, probably crying about how put-upon Germany was, look, even in times of peace they aren't safe! Or some such nonsense. For what it's worth, while writing C.D., I went to research the bombing raids on Munich, and one of the first results was a news story from a few years ago about an unexploded WWII ordinance that was found.
Frau Gavin, tell us how you really feel about Hitler. Even I was a little surprised by the depth of her hatred. Wow. Maybe that's where Kristoph gets it from. And yes, Hitler was actually from Austria, not Germany, though he fought with the Germans in World War I.
I don't know what else to say about this one. I wasn't really intending to delve into Kristallnacht, but here you go. I wanted to use the seven deadly sins as a theme for this chapter, but that got scrapped by the end of section one, and I went with Dies Irae as a theme instead.
If you have any other questions, please let me know.
Please review.