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Frieda Orchudesch Blog Entry |
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August 16, 2024, 12:00:08 AM 8/16/24: r/SketchDaily theme, "Free Draw Friday." This week's characters from my anthro WWII storyline are Frieda Orchudesch, her father Herr Orchudesch (no first name given), and Hans von Adel. The first two unwittingly help inspire Josef Diamant to start working for the resistance; while Hans is unrelated to them, he's Ratdog's/Adel von NN's grandson (son of his daughter Tatiana), who's named after his deceased son Hans von NN. There'll be more about them later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se. Regarding their design, the Orchudesches are German spaniels (I'm iffy on the father's hairstyle), while Hans is meant to resemble both his grandfather and his namesake quite a bit. TUMBLR EDIT: Placeholder text due to Tumblr's backdating changes. Please check back later for more info. Following text will be modified for the next entries. Frieda...*checks*...Orchudesch...dang that's going to take me some time...is a character concept who's been around a bit, yet nameless until just about now, and her story has shifted multiple times. It may shift yet again. But here's how it currently goes. For some related story, check out JUTTA BENTZ'S ENTRY. This outlines Diamant's career as a jeweler and a surprise document forger, from the POV of neighboring shopkeepers who witness when his shop is raided and he's taken away. What led an esteemed jeweler to risk his own life and safety forging IDs for fleeing Jews, though...? Especially seeing as he never uses one to escape, himself. Diamant's shop bell jingles one day and he calls out, "Coming!" and exits the back area where he's moving some boxes. In the shop he finds an older gentleman, slicked-back hair, nice suit, obviously well off, and an equally smart-dressed young woman with unusual red ringlets and soft green eyes. "Guten Tag," Diamant greets them, introduces himself, and asks how he might help them. The man says his daughter is looking for a piece of jewelry for her birthday. The young woman pipes up to say she's seeking a pendant, preferably a locket ("Money is no issue!" the man says cheerfully), and Diamant brings out a tray with a selection of his better works. The red-haired woman coos at one of the lockets--"That one's near perfect!"--but "I was kind of hoping I could find a particular design...do you have a pencil, or pen?" and when Diamant offers her such she makes a small sketch of ivy leaves. Diamant says he can do custom orders, if she's specific about everything she wants and is willing to have to wait and return when it's done. The young woman elaborates a bit on her sketch--she'd also like a jewel set in the locket front--and the drawing she makes is detailed enough that Diamant's pretty sure he can give her what she wants. They nail down the final details--including an estimate of the price (Diamant's work is good enough that he's not cheap, especially for custom designs, yet again the woman's father beams at her as he says, "Nothing is too much for mein Liebchen!")--and Diamant asks them to return in a week, it should be done by then. The man gives Diamant his card--his name is Orchudesch, his daughter is named Frieda--and the two go on their way. Diamant works alone, he has no apprentice or even a secretary to keep records straight or a shopgirl to greet customers; he handles absolutely every aspect of the business himself. It's a lonely existence but he's used to it, and he prefers having his own routines, doing his own thing, unencumbered by others insisting what he should do. He often stays late after hours, keeping his client records in order or putting the fine touches on his latest work. The tinier and more complicated the piece, the more he's up for the challenge; he spends many hours deep into the night, losing track of time, hunched over some stone or piece of metal, jeweler's loupe at his eye, and has to make himself set the project aside just so he can stretch his aching back and go get some sleep. He has no time or motivation for friends or relationships; the gemstones are his existence, it's even in his name, like he was simply fated for this life. So he thinks little of the people behind this latest order--it's the project itself that he anticipates making the best he possibly can, he charges what he does because he pours everything he has into each work, and no one ever complains that he gouges them--and instead focuses on browsing through his collection of raw and tumbled stones, seeking the best one to fit Fräulein Frieda's specifications. He selects a tiny rough emerald and sets to work shaping it, careful to avoid fracturing the delicate stone into brittle pieces; he again heads to bed late and aching and vowing never to do so again although he knows he will. He repeats the process the following nights, only this time selecting and shaping the metal, putting in the design, using enamel to color all the tiny ivy leaves but one, which receives the emerald. It's quite a chore insetting the teeny little gem, but he does it, secures it in place, smooths out the smudges, polishes it all to a shine, selects a chain. The Orchudesches return at the end of the week and wait as he sets down and unfolds the soft little cloth he wraps up his projects in and presents the locket to them. Diamant never looks down at his own work when showing it off, he looks at his customers' reactions to see what they think. Frieda's eyes light up--green like the enamel and the emerald--and she picks the pendant up, cradling it gently in her palm--he notices that, too. "It's almost too beautiful to even wear," she says, yet, "Papa, would you--?" and Herr Orchudesch secures the locket around her neck so it lies against her chest. She gives him a big hug--"I believe mein Liebchen is satisfied with the product!" Herr Orchudesch exclaims--and he gives Diamant his payment. "Danke, danke schön," Frieda says, holding out her hand, which Diamant grasps--he intends to clasp it briefly and then let go, not desiring to seem forward or inappropriate--but she places her other hand over his and squeezes hard before letting go. The two are still thanking him profusely as they depart. Diamant waves, but he's vaguely distracted trying to figure out why his ears started burning when Frieda clutched his hand. It can't be a crush. They're adults not children, he only just met her, and he doesn't get crushes, that's just silly. Still...in the following days as he's working on other projects, he finds that his thoughts keep returning to her. Not only was she pretty, and friendly, and appreciated his work...but she seemed to have a decent eye for design, herself. I've never gotten into developing Diamant's backstory, his life before his job as a jeweler in the story's unnamed city. Before his imprisonment in Ernst Dannecker's labor camp, he lives a pretty decent life as an upper-middle class Jew: not quite upper class himself, he's still technically a craftsman and a merchant, making a living with his hands, yet definitely not poor--he can afford to charge fair prices based on his skill level without customers feeling cheated. Initially my assumption was he came from a family of jewelers--literally, it's in his family name, and was the reason I originally chose the surname Diamant--yet the fact that he doesn't appear to come from a wealthy background makes this seem a bit more complicated. Based on the name, I'll still assume Diamant's family has long traditionally dealt in lapidary, and Diamant just continues the tradition, which is presumably passed down from parent to child. (Diamant has no children, thus no apprentice.) But somehow, between Diamant and the Diamant family's heyday, some sort of interruption took place, to cast the family back down near poverty, so that it looks as if Diamant had to work hard to pull himself up from it...what was it? Whatever it was, it possibly led to the near-extinction of the family line, as, just like with so many characters in my story, Diamant has no close relations left. We never see his mother, father, siblings. Whatever hit the Diamant family, it hit them hard, and only Diamant remained to pull the name back up. I toyed with the idea of the family residing in a ghetto--one of the older ones--but based on dates, this likely would have been abolished by Diamant's parents' time, at least. (Diamant must be born around or very shortly before the turn of the century, circa 1900.) It's possible the Diamants fell on hard times and ended up living in some sort of Jewish quarter instead (likely another city, as I don't think my fictional city has one), and from there struggled to ply their trade, possibly needing to resort to other, less-specialized work--perhaps selling secondhand, cheaply made jewelry--to make ends meet; I read about how Jews in the older ghettos often became pawnbrokers. Given how skilled and proud of their skills the Diamants were, I imagine such a downfall would chafe. But work is work and food must be put on the table. Even if they could no longer afford to purchase, design, and sell their own high-quality jewelry to their equally poor communities, they persisted in passing on the craft, for whenever times got better. For whatever reason--perhaps his age, perhaps his particular innate skills--this responsibility fell to Josef, and he became his father's apprentice, then journeyman, practicing with cheap stones and metals first, then repairing or repurposing midgrade jewelry obtained elsewhere, and at last designing and creating his own piece from scratch. It sells for a fine price, puts food on the table for a little while. At a relatively young age, Diamant becomes a master jeweler who doesn't possess the goods needed to take it up as a profession; not a moment too soon as it turns out, as he then loses his remaining family, though I'm unsure how. The flu again? The Great War? Diamant doesn't go fight, though I can imagine male siblings of his doing so. His father is too old to go. It's likely a mix of factors occurring all around the same period that snuffs out the family, but whatever it is, it actually works in Diamant's favor, in that it breaks his ties to the old community and frees him to go ply his new trade elsewhere (he decides on the unnamed city of the story, loosely analogous to Berlin), with the family savings solely at his disposal (he invests in new tools and a decent selection of stones and metals, also taking along what his father left to him, and sets up shop in the decent middle-class area also occupied (later on) by the Bentzes and other small, specialized businesspeople). He's alone and grieving, yes. But he's also a businessman, and he's practical. Food must be put on the table. He learns early on how to shove down his emotions, put on a welcoming smile, sell himself as a skilled craftsman just as much as he sells his work. He also learns to keep everyone at a distance, because as the loss of his family proved, the closer you are to someone, the more it hurts when they're gone. Diamant has a brief fling here and there to scratch the itch, but he takes no wife, fathers no children, has no apprentice. He knows the family reputation, and name, will die with him. It's unfortunate, but that's just how it is. He needs to look out for himself first off. Now, Frieda Orchudesch seems to have tossed a wrench into those plans. Diamant shakes himself out of the odd mood he's in--convincing himself he's simply finished dealing with a particularly enthusiastic client--and resumes work as usual. A month or so later, however, the shop bell rings, and there she is again, bright red ringlets and big bright smile. Diamant almost doesn't even notice her father, she lights up the shop so much. He asks if there's a problem with the locket, has it broken?--does it need fixing? No, not at all--Herr Orchudesch explains that Frieda is so enamored of the locket that now she'd like a matching set--a ring, and earrings, to go along with it. Just as before, money is no issue, whatever his Liebchen wants, she'll get. Diamant says all he needs is designs and he'll get to work. Frieda beams from ear to ear and hands him some papers. She's already made the concept sketches. They're just as excellent as the original. Lather, rinse, repeat. Diamant makes the earrings first, then focuses on the ring. Although he's expanded his skill set a bit to repairing and occasionally even making small clockworks--a skill he can fall back on if jewelry falls out of demand--rings are his true specialty, and he always takes extra care in creating them. He hums an old Yiddish folk song as he works, a rather superstitious habit he picked up from his father, who told him that rings have a special sort of power to them. Rings are oaths, not to be made or taken lightly, so he's never frivolous or hasty in creating them. He's always used his own designs for them before, as it seemed most suitable, other people often don't take such things as seriously as they should and he doesn't know others' intentions as well as he knows his own. This, though...this is different. He can tell Frieda's designs have some personal meaning to her, that she didn't draw them just to be pretty--the earring and ring designs match the locket so well. These are ideas she's obviously had in her head a long time. And she's just skilled enough to be able to put her ideas to paper so Diamant can interpret them adequately. He told the Orchudesches to give him a couple of weeks this time. When they arrive and he presents Frieda with her new jewelry, she beams just as brightly as before. She takes off her old earrings and puts on the new, then holds out her hand, fingers extended, and asks Diamant to place on the ring. Diamant blinks in surprise, then feels the blood rush to his ears. Peers uneasily at Herr Orchudesch, but he's gazing at the glass displays, perhaps contemplating a purchase of his own. "Herr Diamant...?" Frieda prompts, and his eyes shift back to her; he tries to detect any guile in her face, yet can't, she just smiles and holds up her hand. He takes a breath and tells himself to stop being silly--it's her right hand, not the left, she just wants to admire her new ring, stop giving an unthinking yet innocent gesture any meaning--and takes the ring, sliding it carefully on her finger. She lifts her hand palm out and turns it this way and that--"Papa, look, it's perfect"--and Herr Orchudesch praises Diamant's work. Again, he's well paid, though he hardly thinks about the money as the two say their farewells and depart. This time he can't shake the feeling the encounter left with him. When he placed the ring on Frieda's finger, it felt like he was making an oath, and he can't tell whether she was in on it too, or not. He doesn't like not knowing. But he can't think of any other reason why she would request him to do that. The third time she visits, she's alone, no Herr Orchudesch in sight. Diamant is reluctant to talk with her, though she insists her father knows where she is. "I've looked into you," she says, making him raise his eyebrows. She explains that she's learned he's not from there--"You're from Frankfurt"--and she had her father take her there for a visit, where she in fact spent her time finding out what she could about Diamant's family, which was once so well known there, yet then faded into obscurity. "I have something to show you," she says, and pulls a small package from her satchel, carefully unwrapping it and holding it out to him. It's a ring, yet not her ring; Diamant takes in a breath on seeing it and actually flinches back a little out of sheer surprise. "The dealer I bought it from said it was designed by a 'J. Diamant,'" Frieda says; "I wasn't sure if that was you or simply a relative of yours, but seeing the look on your face now..." She picks the ring up and holds it out; Diamant's eyes blur a little as he takes it and looks it over. "Can you tell me about it?" she asks, and he obliges. "This was my final project as a journeyman," he murmurs, gently turning the ring in his fingers, "my first original design before I set out on my own. A commission...though it was hard to let it go. How did you find it? You said a dealer?" Frieda confirms, she found the ring in a secondhand shop, thought it looked like one of his designs, and asked about its provenance while making an offer. Diamant sadly surmises that the original owner must too have fallen on hard times and needed to put food on the table; it's a shame, but it happens. Something else Frieda said has caught his attention, though: "You thought it looked like my design--you're that familiar with my work?" he asks, confused. Frieda smiles and says, "I told you I've been looking into you." It's an odd start, but this is how Diamant and Frieda Orchudesch meet and get to know one another. She puts his concerns at ease by assuring him that her father knows she's visiting him, she tells him everything, and he's fine with them being alone together, he trusts them both not to do anything inappropriate. Diamant isn't terribly conservative or old fashioned--he's Orthodox, and follows basic customs, yet doesn't attend synagogue often, and doesn't think much about religious matters--yet he really doesn't want any sort of unsavory accusation hanging over his head. All the women he's been involved with were unattached and not particularly observant themselves and weren't interested in relationships; no muss, no fuss. Frieda is obviously a respectable young woman from a respected--and wealthy--family: well bred, upper class, not a tradesman working family like his own. He knows he has to tread carefully around such people, and he knows that Herr Orchudesch likely intends for her to marry a nice respectable upper-class man, her equal or better. It doesn't matter what her actual reasons for visiting him may be; there's only one legitimate reason for a man and woman to be alone with each other, and he doesn't want anyone to get the wrong idea. Frieda, for her part, doesn't do anything especially inappropriate at first; she likes simply to talk, and listen. She's curious about his family, his work, his plans for his life. Diamant isn't used to conversations but shoves down his confused feelings, puts on his best face, does the best he can. And Frieda sees right through him. She might come across as naive and spoiled and obsessed with superficial pretty things at a first glance, but she's actually quite sharp, and sees lots of fine details that others easily miss. It's the reason she learned to recognize Diamant's work so quickly, and how she can put her own designs on paper so effectively. She brings up the matter of her ring, and how she noticed the look he got while placing it on her finger; "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Herr Diamant," she apologizes, yet she doesn't offer any concrete explanation for her request, and Diamant has the distinct impression that all of this is intentional: Frieda knew exactly what she was doing when she asked him to place the ring. He hadn't wanted to admit it even to himself, yet he's attracted to her, and she's attracted to him as well. Now that this particular intention is obvious, their meetings take on a slightly different tone. They still use polite titles, yet now refer to each other by their first names, like acquaintances. They still do nothing inappropriate, but something unspoken crackles in the air between them, and they often have to look away from each other, faces burning. Diamant tells Frieda about his family, their fall from fortune, his singlehanded effort to grasp some of that fortune back; Frieda tells him about what had once been her own dream, to be a professional violinist; he asks why this is no longer her dream, and she extends and flexes her right hand, smiling wistfully as she mentions an injury that made the dream no longer feasible. "I'm sorry," Diamant murmurs, knowing all too well how much one's livelihood can depend on their hands; Frieda replies that it could always be worse. Upon learning that she still has her old violin, he asks her to play it for him; she brings it with her on her next visit and obliges. Diamant, in all sincerity, says she sounds like a professional violinist to him; Frieda smiles ear to ear, saying, "This is why you're a jeweler and not a musician, Herr Josef, else you'd hear the difference. Still, I'll gladly accept the compliment." Herr Orchudesch decides to commission a piece for himself; he has an old pocketwatch and, on learning that Diamant can refurbish it, requests him to do so. Frieda provides the sketch; "I have no eye for such things, I'm afraid," Herr Orchudesch says. As Diamant is examining the watch, Herr Orchudesch is silent a few moments, before venturing, "My daughter seems to enjoy the time she spends with you, I swear she's gone more often than she's at home." Feeling a spark of alarm, Diamant tries to keep a calm voice as he assures him that neither of them has tried anything improper. "I know, she tells me everything," Herr Orchudesch says, and it becomes clear he's not making any accusations; rather, he mentions how dispirited Frieda had been since being told she wouldn't ever take the stage, and nothing had managed to lift her spirits, until now: "She talks about you constantly. Like she once used to talk about the violin, and believe me, did she talk. Go figure!--I take her to get a pretty piece of jewelry to cheer her up, yet it's the jeweler she's interested in." Diamant offers to cut off communication with Frieda, still thinking Herr Orchudesch is hinting at him to back off, yet "Why would I want you to do that--?" he exclaims, "This is the happiest I've seen her in ages. There's just one thing I need to know, Herr Diamant," and he takes on a serious tone when he asks, "Are you interested in my daughter...?" Diamant doesn't answer at first, though he's sure his emotions show on his face. "I ask," Herr Orchudesch continues, "because Frieda tells me everything...and she's told me she's interested in you. I don't want her heart broken again. Is the feeling mutual...?" This time Diamant pauses only slightly before saying, "It is." Herr Orchudesch says, "And so, do you have intentions for my daughter...?" To which Diamant replies, "Not without your blessing." Herr Orchudesch is silent a moment, appraising him, before smiling slightly and turning. "I look forward to seeing what you can do for my watch." Diamant speaks up before he can leave: "Herr Orchudesch...I'm not sure how much you know, but Fräulein Frieda looked my family up when you traveled to Frankfurt, to see what she might find out." Herr Orchudesch confirms this, she told him. "Then she must've told you that my family was nothing like yours," Diamant continues. "We did well for ourselves for a while, but we weren't like you, we made a living with our hands, manual work." He isn't sure how to put it without being offensive. Herr Orchudesch seems to understand his meaning, however--and doesn't seem to care. Hard honest work is hard honest work, whether it's lofty or down to earth; "All a man has, after all," he says, "is his word, and his hard work. Mein Liebchen wants and deserves the best. I trust her to make good decisions. Gute Nacht, Herr Diamant." It appears Diamant has Herr Orchudesch's blessing to court his daughter. He tentatively broaches the subject when he meets her and she immediately says oh yes, they've already discussed it, and Diamant looks skyward, murmuring, "Well of course you have, you tell each other everything." "He did say you never gave him a direct answer about your intentions," she adds. Diamant is quiet for a moment, weighing his options, before deciding; he takes Frieda's right hand, removes the ring he made, and places it on her left ring finger instead. Frieda holds up her hand, turning it this way and that, and a small smile comes to her face; "It's perfect," she says. Diamant had never really wanted marriage, a family, children; although lonely at times, he was used to it, and just assumed that was the path he was meant to follow. His craft was his life. Suddenly that's all turned upside-down, and he has mixed feelings; he doesn't regret his decision, but he does worry about losing his independence, not having enough time to focus anymore on the thing that matters most to him. Frieda quickly puts his fears to rest: They don't have to start a family immediately, there's plenty of time later, and she would never think of getting between him and his work; if anything, she'd like to run some design ideas by him, see what he thinks. He hadn't expected that she might take a role in the work herself--he's used to doing his own thing--yet her designs really are good, and she gives excellent advice. He starts warming to the idea of no longer being alone, of being one half of a whole. Losing a little bit of his independence doesn't seem so bad. He and Frieda stroll through a secluded park late one evening, sit on a bench in the growing gloom to look out over the river, and nature takes its course. Yet again he expects wrath from Herr Orchudesch--Frieda tells him everything!--yet her father never says a word. Frieda reasons that they're already just about married, all that's needed is the ceremony to make it official, but their souls are already connected; there's nothing so wrong in it. His unease fades--by now he feels it's a given that soon, they'll be living together--and they steal away to be alone with each other when they can. Germany...1930s. I really don't need to explain the atmosphere, do I...? Diamant notices when the swastika banners go up, when the laws start being passed, when his fellow Jewish shopkeepers start closing their shops and moving away. He hears about the ghetto which the poorer Jews are forced into at the other end of the city, and this strikes some bad memories for him, tales passed down through his family about similar times. He chafes, but doesn't argue, when he's told he must wear a yellow star whenever he's out in public. He hears of something called Arbeitslager--a work camp--being constructed at the city's edge, and all sorts of alarms go off inside him. Still--business is fine, he shoves down his worry, puts on a good face. Even for the sullen, swastika-clad youths who visit his shop to glance around and mutter a few slurs before going on their way. Diamant figures he'll discuss this matter with the Orchudesches and see what they should do. Maybe it would be most prudent to leave. Even though it'll sting badly to abandon the shop he set up from scratch. He started over once, he should be able to again. He's always been resilient. He finishes up some projects, closes shop early one day, and sets out for Herr Orchudesch's place. He and Frieda live in a small but lavishly appointed house in a quiet, well-off neighborhood, a peaceful street lined with shade trees. The neighborhood has been getting quieter lately, what with the Jewish residents leaving. Diamant ascends the steps up to the door and reaches for the handle, only to abruptly pull his hand back--the door is cracked open already, and he can see it was knocked open by force. Alarm lighting up in him, he pushes it open and steps inside anyway. "Herr Orchudesch--?" he calls, "Frieda?" No one answers, but when he pauses, he hears what sounds like muted sobbing; he anxiously heads toward the sound. In the parlor he finds a man huddled in the middle of the floor, head in hands, papers scattered in front of him, crying piteously. Diamant recognizes the Orchudesches's manservant and says, "Herr Heinrich--?" Herr Heinrich's head pops up with a gasp--"Herr Diamant!" he cries, and clambers to his feet, clasping his hands together. "I don't know who else I can talk to! I don't know what to do!" When Diamant asks him what happened, he says the Orchudesches are gone--he returned from an errand to find the door knocked in, and a neighbor claims she saw the police taking them away. "Police--? Why? To where--?" Herr Heinrich mentions them receiving a notice saying Herr Orchudesch had to divest himself of his business soon or face arrest--"The Jews, they aren't letting them work anymore, they keep telling them to work is illegal but what can they do?" As for where they were taken, he has no idea, but maybe the neighbor knows. "If only I'd come back just a little earlier, maybe I could've stopped this," he exclaims, and starts crying anew. Diamant tries telling him he couldn't have done anything, yet Herr Heinrich is insistent: "They sent me to fetch their ID papers, their papers that would let them leave the country. I was so close! If only I'd come back sooner!" He explains that the Nazi Party is cracking down on travel by Jews and they now require expensive documentation to be allowed to depart; the poorer Jews can't afford it, and it's getting difficult even for the richer Jews to obtain papers. Diamant is stunned to find out the Orchudesches were planning to leave already; "They were going to tell you, Herr Diamant," Herr Heinrich insists, "they wanted to get the papers first, just to be sure, then Fräulein Frieda was going to try to convince you to come with them. I got the papers! But I was too late!" Diamant manages to calm him a bit, and heads over to the neighbor's. She's gentile but seems to sympathize--"I tried warning them this might happen, I don't know why they waited so long." When Diamant asks where they might have been taken, she peers uneasily to the city's edge. "That work camp, I imagine," she says, "though I can't be sure. You're one of them...? You might think of getting out while you still can, because I've heard nothing good about that place. I hear nobody ever leaves." Diamant returns to Herr Heinrich and sits with him a bit, waiting for him to cry himself out, before venturing to ask him for a favor: Heinrich is German, he has much more freedom than Diamant, does he know anyone, anyone at all who works for the government? Even just the local government, a councilman or anything--someone who can tell him where the Orchudesches were taken. "They all work for the Nazis!" Herr Heinrich exclaims, "why would they want to help you?" But after a moment of pondering, he says he knows a city clerk he once went to school with, they meet for lunch once in a while, and although he had to swear an oath to the Party, he's privately grumbled about them; Heinrich isn't sure how helpful he'll be, but he can give it a try. Diamant tells him to direct the man to his shop if he has any info. He returns to work, though he can barely focus, he agonizes so much over not knowing what's become of Frieda and her father. He glances toward the camp, but knows that going searching himself is out of the question; all it'll do is draw unwanted attention. Heinrich had asked if he too had gotten a notice like Herr Orchudesch got; Diamant hasn't yet, and would like to continue flying under the radar as long as possible. He keeps taking orders even though it's killing him inside to not know where the Orchudesches are. The shop bell rings one day and Diamant goes up front to find a tall, slender, bespectacled man in a gray suit with a swastika pinned to his lapel; "Herr Diamant...?" he says in a mild, almost bored voice, and Diamant cautiously confirms it, suspecting he's connected to the Nazi youths who recently visited to poke around his shop. "I've heard you can repair watches," the man says, pulling out a pocketwatch; "I can," Diamant says, "though yours seems to be functioning properly." He then gasps and jerks back; without warning, the man slams the pocketwatch on the counter a couple of times, looks at it, and says, "Shame...I seem to have broken it." He holds it out again and Diamant gingerly takes it, not wishing to do anything to upset him, though as soon as he turns away the man says, "You have a back work area? I'd very much like to see it." Diamant asks why; he just likes to observe the work process, is all. Hoping that giving him a look around might get rid of him quicker, Diamant undoes the chain behind the counter and waves him forward. "Look around if you like," he says, and starts rummaging around in his drawers of supplies, seeking the pieces he needs to fix the watch. A moment or so passes, Diamant growing antsier each second, before the man says, "I was told you're looking for a couple of friends of yours." Diamant stiffens, whirls around. "You're--" he says, but the man jerks a finger up to his mouth, cutting him off. "You've had any unexpected visitors lately...?" he says; Diamant starts to say no, then remembers the Nazi youths who looked around and bought nothing; he'd assumed it was an intimidation attempt, but it sure was a lousy one. The man sees the look on his face and taps his ear. Diamant heads back into the shop and starts looking around, checking under counters, behind displays. It takes him a few moments...but he finds it. A small listening device stuck under the edge of a shelf. He removes it, casts the man standing in the doorway a look, then crushes it under his shoe. He returns to the back room but shuts the door for good measure; he kept an eye on the youths, they hadn't entered the back of the shop, but he looks around a bit just in case. The man confirms that he's Herr Heinrich's friend, who works in a city records office. He tells Diamant that the people in charge of the legal situation of the Jews are the Schutzstaffel, and he definitely does not work for them or have direct access to their records. He had to use his own connections--and a little old-fashioned palm-greasing--to find a record of what happened to the Orchudesches. They were both arrested and taken into SS custody, from there to be sent to the camps. Diamant asks if this means that at the city's edge; no, not that camp, as it doesn't take women and elderly people. Frieda Orchudesch was taken to a women's camp in another city. Diamant asks what happened then; the clerk replies, "The record says Fräulein Orchudesch was killed immediately after arriving." All the air leaves Diamant's lungs. The news--his Frieda, his betrothed, his love, is gone, forever--is delivered so abruptly it hits him like a wall of bricks, and his knees buckle; he ends up on the floor. The clerk is silent a moment before saying, "I was told you were close...I'm sorry for your loss." "She...she's, she was young and healthy...why would they kill her?" Diamant can barely manage to say. The clerk shrugs and replies, "Maybe she wasn't strong enough for the type of labor involved. Maybe the person doing selections had a bad day. Maybe it rained when the sun should have shone. Who knows? The SS needs no reason to do anything." Diamant still has to fight to find his voice: "Herr--Herr Orchudesch. What about him? What happened to him--?" The clerk looks vaguely uncomfortable and tries to demur, suggesting maybe he shouldn't know, but Diamant insists, so he finally replies, "Herr Orchudesch was placed on a train to another camp out of the city. The train was delayed for several days. He'd died by the time it reached the camp." And there, like that, it is--the Orchudesches are gone, as if they'd never been. Diamant feels his world crumbling. For the first time in his life he has no idea what to do; he's too stunned and numb even to cry. "I wish I had better news for you," the clerk says. "My advice, Herr Diamant?--leave the country while you're still able. Don't put it off, because it's only going to get worse. Now if you'll excuse me, I believe my favor here is done." As he turns to head out, Diamant mumbles, "Your watch." "I need to buy a new one anyway," the clerk says, and leaves. Herr Heinrich visits shortly after. "I wanted to know what happened," he murmurs, and his eyes fill with tears. "The look on your face tells me." He starts weeping. "If only I got the papers to them in time." He tells Diamant that he's leaving, and urges him to do the same--"There's nothing left here for people like you and me; and they would have wanted you to escape, at least one good thing should come of all this"--then remembers he has something he wants to give Diamant. He takes it from his pocket and holds it out: Frieda's ring. Diamant nearly recoils--now, now his eyes flood with tears as it hits him, here's what started it all, here at the end of it. "They ransacked the house," Herr Heinrich says, "took all the valuables they could find. Yet they missed this...she must have taken it off when they weren't looking, and hid it in this little spot she used to hide things when she was a child...she must have hoped I would find it there." His voice breaks when he says Diamant should have the ring; Diamant hesitates, it feels wrong somehow to take it back, plus some tiny part of his brain feels almost like the ring is now cursed--yet Herr Heinrich insists, saying it was his once, and surely Frieda left it behind for him to have. Diamant reluctantly receives the ring and takes a breath as the tears start streaming down his face. It feels like the oath has been broken, somehow. He feels like he should have been there to keep them safe. Herr Heinrich turns to leave. Before he can reach the door, however--a spark, a thought, crystallizes in Diamant's head--he looks up and quickly calls out, "The papers." Herr Heinrich stops and looks back. "You still have them?" Herr Heinrich nods and wipes his eyes--"If only I got them there in time!"--yet right now Diamant doesn't have time for more pointless weeping. He stands and approaches: "May I see them?" Herr Heinrich digs the papers out of his pocket and holds them out. Diamant unfolds them; they're similar to a passport, resembling some kind of temporary pass, with grainy photos upon them--his vision blurs seeing Herr Orchudesch's and Frieda's faces looking back at him and he has to blink it clear again--and much more detailed information than he's seen on similar documentation before; there's even a spot determining the amount of "Jewish blood" the holder possesses. An official seal with the SS emblem is stamped on them. Diamant examines them for a moment before asking Herr Heinrich, "May I keep these?--bitte?" Herr Heinrich hesitates briefly, seeming perplexed, but his eyes water once more--"They're useless now. You can have them"--he urges Diamant once more to leave, wishes him farewell, and exits. Diamant wants nothing more than to break down sobbing over the loss, the life he almost had, the one person who understood him and he wanted to be with forever, the other half of his soul--yet that will accomplish nothing, when an idea has sparked in his head. He closes shop early and goes into the back, sitting down to study the ID papers. He doesn't just look at the information supplied; he examines the typeface used, how crisp or faded it is, whether the individual letters are broken or intact. The size, quality, texture, thickness, and color of the paper. The stock the photos are printed on, if it's matte or glossy. The colors and patterns of the ink in the background. The design of the border. The length and thickness of the lines upon which the information is printed. The signatures of the holders and the official who stamped the ID and what sort of ink was used. And especially the SS stamp atop it all. He even pulls out his jeweler's loupe to examine every single element in minute detail. Once he commits all these details to memory, he tucks the papers away among his client records and heads out to do some shopping. Diamant visits various shops and studios, returns to the shop hours later with his arms full of supplies. Clears a spot at his jewelry workstation and starts pulling out papers and inks. A deliveryman arrives with a new typewriter. Diamant's first act is to start carefully carving a stamp; as a jeweler, he has a keen eye for the tiny details that everyone else misses until they're all put together; still, just to be sure, he consults the IDs as he works. Within the hour, he has a perfect, reversed replica of the official SS ID stamp. Diamant hates even looking at the evil thing, and promptly shoves it away in a drawer, yet continues working. Of course, he wasn't able to obtain exact samples of everything he needs, a few times he had to settle for near matches. He works late into the night as if it's one of his jewelry projects, switching between brush and pen and typewriter, doing gentle washes in muted colors, fanning the paper dry, pressing it flat under books, drawing the most delicate lines and patterns, typing in the information, affixing the photo, and finally--the very last step--inking the stamp, dabbing most of the ink off, and pressing it against the paper. The seal appears faded and patchy, as if it's been used countless times, yet the double lightning bolts are obvious. Diamant sits a moment and stares at his new official ID papers granting him passage out of the German Reich. Then shoves them in the drawer with the stamp and wonders WTF he's doing. He gives himself the night to sleep on it. The next day he makes some calls, asks for help tracking down an acquaintance whose name he's forgotten, maybe someone can help him, he's a friend of Heinrich's. He finally reaches the correct office where a secretary responds not with "I'm sorry, I have no idea who that is," but "I'm sorry, he's out of the office right now." Diamant leaves a message to stop by his shop later that evening for an urgent matter, reiterating that he's "a friend of Heinrich's." Then resumes his regular work as he waits. Just before closing time, after his last customer for the day leaves, the shop bell again rings. Diamant heads to the front. The city clerk is standing at the counter, a sour look on his face. "I was under the distinct impression our dealings were concluded," he says crossly. "And yet here you are, calling around and putting my job in jeopardy. I shouldn't have even bothered giving you the time of day for such negligence. Now tell me what you want before I reconsider my decision to come here." Diamant brushes off his warnings, presenting him with the ID papers; the clerk looks them over, blinks, and exclaims, "You took my advice--? Excellent, excellent, this is a wise choice you won't regret, Herr Diamant, trust me. Just take it to the appropriate office and you should be on your way. Remember to pack light, they won't let you take much." Diamant lets out a breath. "It's convincing, then--?" he asks, feeling a surge of hope for the first time in ages. "If you were the one checking it, you'd let me through?" The clerk blinks again, furrows his brow--"What are you talking about?--you mean this..."--and then looks at the papers again. Squints, lifts his spectacles, holds them inches from his face, studies them. "This is a fake--?" he exclaims, and looks at Diamant, aghast. "What are you thinking?? Forging government documents and showing them to me! Are you mad?? Are you trying to get us both killed--??" Diamant manages to calm the clerk down a bit, explaining that he's not asking him to accept the ID as genuine or even to help get him out of the country. He just needs to know if it's convincing enough to fool a clerk with his level of experience, and what about it might be improved. The clerk very reluctantly admits it's the most clever forgery he's seen, and clarifies that there are small variations between IDs, enough to likely account for whatever tiny inaccuracies exist in Diamant's copy. (Diamant had hoped as much, but wasn't sure.) The SS seal and signatures are the most important elements. Once he has this information, Diamant does make one final request: If he or one of his fellow clerks who deal with processing applications for such IDs ever hear of any parties who aren't able to obtain one, to direct them to come to his shop. The clerk, immediately understanding his intent, protests--"I won't endanger myself or my family any further by perpetrating a scam! Have you no idea how powerful the SS is? If they catch you forging their seal, they'll put you in a camp for certain!"--yet Diamant insists he's not asking him to participate in the scheme...just to point people in his direction. He won't need to sign or verify or fake anything at all. The clerk's resolve falters; after a brief hesitation, he says simply, "I have to go now," and heads for the door. "If you try contacting me again," he adds at the door, "I will not respond," and leaves. Time passes. Diamant gets to know his neighboring shopkeepers, the BENTZES, and even strikes up a business arrangement with them; like him, they tend to keep to themselves, though Frau Bentz admits she's worried about his welfare. Diamant isn't sure how trustworthy or not they are, so keeps his own counsel; at the very least, he figures he's shielding them from whatever misfortune might come his way. He gets lost in thought while working on his projects, mulling over how to get word out that he's trying to offer help to those attempting escape; having so few connections to society is suddenly quite a hindrance. He starts to figure his plan must be shelved, and instead broods over a feeling of unfinished business, of letting the Orchudesches down. He'd wanted so much to do SOMETHING to set things right. His bell rings one day and he's rather surprised when a family of five enters--surprised, because their attire and appearance is rather shabbier than the rest of his regular clientele. The man meekly addresses him, "We...we were told you're offering a bargain...?" Diamant frowns, says, what? The man falters, looks ready to leave then and there, yet the woman speaks up instead. Reiterates that they were informed that Diamant is offering a bargain. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, I'm not having any sale," Diamant says, increasingly confused, "Are you sure you have the right shop?"--because these people look like they'd never be able to afford anything he's selling. "You're Herr Diamant, ja--?" the woman insists, growing desperate; "We were told you're offering a bargain. A deal on custom items--personalized, for each of us. Bitte, we're willing to pay, everything we have." "I'm sorry," Diamant says, bewildered; "I do custom work, ja, but I'm afraid I'm having no--" And then the phrase hits him. Personalized, for each of us. He blinks. "Custom items," he says, and looks at the woman, who's staring back pleadingly. "How many custom items?" he asks, just to be sure, and when she says, "Five," he undoes the chain and gestures for them to follow him into the back. In privacy, Diamant listens as the couple tell him they tried to apply for IDs to leave the country, but couldn't afford the fees. The clerk seemed to notice their distress, and quietly told them that if they were willing to take a risk, to look up a jeweler's shop called Diamant's, and ask the proprietor if he was offering a deal on "custom items"; if all else failed, they could say that "Heinrich" sent them. They were on their own from there, no guarantees. Diamant tells them all the info he'll need to do the job--the woman has already gathered it, when applying for the actual IDs--and he takes it. He asks if they have any place to stay for a day or two as he prepares the papers; they say yes, and he instructs them when to return. He waves off the woman's offer of payment, saying they can settle that once they have the IDs in their hands. Diamant toils over five sets of papers. Keeps the clerk's comments in mind, focusing mainly on the officials' signatures and the SS stamp, though also putting minute detail into the rest. When the family returns he gives them the papers but cautions them that he's never done this before, so he can't guarantee the clerks will be fooled; he's done his best, but they're still taking a huge risk. If they want to back out, he won't charge them anything. They hesitate only briefly before the woman says that they can either take a risk which might result in their incarceration/death, or do nothing at all and definitely meet the same fate. They'll take their chances. Diamant takes his payment--promising it'll go toward purchasing supplies for more IDs--and wishes them luck. It's sheer agony in the following days, wondering and not knowing if the ruse worked. Yet then one afternoon a messenger arrives with a telegram. It's vague and brief, but the sender wants him to know they've reached their vacation home safely, and thanks for the help. They leave no names, just "Heinrich's friends." Thus begins Diamant's new job, moonlighting as a document forger. At the start, he can easily recognize these clients when they arrive--they're always poorer than his jewelry clients--yet as time goes on, even better-off Jews, with income similar to his, start arriving. He can only assume that not only are sympathetic clerks passing along the word, but his reputation is also being spread by word of mouth; with this comes the increased risk of him being found out, yet he keeps at it. Without fail, the people he helps urge him to leave the country as well, get out while he can, yet he remains behind. Every ID he forges is another life possibly saved, another mark on the tally his mind is keeping; he doesn't know how many of their lives he'll need to save before he'll make up for Frieda's and her father's lives, no amount ever feels like enough to wipe the slate clean. He knows that the more IDs he forges, the longer he stays, the closer to disaster he brings himself, yet he just keeps at it; he'd hoped for some kind of redemption, yet nothing he does ever seems good enough, nothing ever closes the wound. He never does find out who tips off the authorities. Maybe someone planted another bug? He does his best to be careful, he never keeps records of THOSE clients, he gets them in and out quickly. Is it a suspicious neighbor? A spy posing as a client? A clerk caving in under pressure or threats? A flaw or mistake in one of his own forgeries? He doesn't know, and frankly it doesn't matter. A military truck full of Party members and SS officials pulls up out front of his shop one bizarre day as windows are getting smashed along the street, and he's hauled into his back room. They tear through his client records, they pummel him with their fists and kick him with their boots, they jab his jeweler's files into his arms and take the jeweler's torch to his chest, but he insists he knows nothing about any forgeries. They almost break him, but keeping Frieda's face in his mind, her bright ear-to-ear smile, fuels his hatred, and hatred is stronger than fear. His shop is torn apart and set afire, he's dragged out and tossed into the truck, he's driven to the rail yard. It makes no sense, he thinks, and the other men, strangers, crowded in the car with him murmur the same thing. They know where they're going. The camp just at the city's edge. But why like this, when the truck could take them? And why is it taking so long? One of them, a slightly older man, says the waiting is the point--there are ways to torture someone without laying a finger on them, simply by driving them mad with the waiting, the anticipation of a dreadful fate that never quite comes, except that's just it, that's the dreadful fate. The train is deliberately stalled. They're deliberately taking their time. Everything about this is deliberate, even accidents, because every dead Jew is just one less mouth to feed. Diamant recalls Herr Orchudesch's fate--dying slowly in a stalled train car--and wonders if his will be the exact same fate. It isn't. Eventually the train starts moving again, a lengthy circuitous route, before arriving at the camp. Everyone is marched along a ramp--so much yelling--a uniformed man casts them each a quick glance, shouts "Left" or "Right." Every so often, a burst of gunfire sounds from the direction of those who are sent "left." The captives flinch, the guards don't. Diamant remembers what he was told of Frieda's death, and wonders, as he moves up the line, if that's to be his fate. The guard doing selections glances up at him, makes a face--"Right!"--and Diamant is shoved out of the line and toward a long building nearby. A bored-looking SS officer is leaning against the building outside the door, arms crossed, cigarette in mouth; he simply watches as the men are herded inside, told to strip--Diamant's ears burn with humiliation as he does so--and directed toward the showers. Diamant's heard the rumors; he stands under the shower head, trying not to shake, hears a loud hiss, gasps when something explodes from it just over his head--then shudders--it's water, cold water, but just water nonetheless. The prisoners quickly wash themselves, shuffle into another room, are given striped clothes to wear. Another room, their heads shaved and their arms tattooed--Diamant grimaces both times, all the unnecessary added humiliation. Their personal details are entered in a ledger; Diamant sees his fellows having quick photographs taken, but for some reason no one calls his name. Then, badges quickly stitched to their shirts; Diamant receives a green-and-yellow Judenstern. The man affixing it to him is also in stripes and colored badge; "What does it mean?" Diamant asks, "Means you're a criminal, and a Jew," the other prisoner replies, "same difference to these folks." He's sent back out, made to get in another line in the muddy yard--roll call--work and barracks assignments--waking, meals, and sleeping times--rules and regulations. A loud-voiced officer yells this all out at them as they stand at attention, the bored-looking officer beside him, looking everyone over. Diamant feels a twinge of surprise when the yelling officer introduces the camp commandant--who isn't him. He indicates the bored-looking man, and says, "All of you may refer to him as Mein Herr, or Herr Dannecker." I've outlined some of Diamant's stay in the labor camp in previous entries. His cautious friendship with fellow prisoners Lukas Mettbach and Arno Spiegel. How he makes the mistake of standing up to Dannecker, then finds out the hard way just how formidable the unassuming-looking Obersturmbannführer is, once he declares Diamant his "pet project." How being a pet project perfectly encapsulates what he learned on the train, that you can break a person without even laying a finger on them; Commandant Dannecker is an expert at psychological warfare, especially the use of Russian roulette. How he's not above using plain old physical torture, too--jamming a jeweler's file into Diamant's right hand and twisting it around, shredding the nerves. How Diamant finds himself scheming again, another wild and reckless plan, knowing that if he doesn't get out of there, Dannecker will either kill him, or make him kill himself. How the plot involves persuading the commandant's stepdaughter, Gret, to help him, and the particular ruse they use to trick Dannecker into letting down his guard, with Gret asking him for a gift, a piece of jewelry. Dannecker just happens to know a jeweler, once the best jeweler in the city. He has Diamant brought to him. He commissions him to make a ring. ... Frieda isn't a character I made in her own right; she was originally intended to fill a simple role in Diamant's life, that of soulmate. As leader of the Diamond Network, Diamant helps bring Inga Dobermann into hiding; separated from her family and lonely, she kisses him, but he refuses to let it go any further--even though it's obvious he's fallen in love with her. He knows her husband is her true soulmate, and he knows how it hurts to lose half of your soul; when explaining what happened to Dobermann, he starts to mention how he suspects Dobermann must not like him, including for his race; Dobermann cuts in with "Not like you--? I HATE you! I hate you for breaking up my family. I hate you for taking my wife from me and our daughter. I don't give a damn what you are, I'd still hate you. Now get out of my house!" The comments sting--but Diamant isn't offended. He understands that the hate comes from the hurt. Dobermann just admitted a pretty big and important truth that's been hazy up until now: He doesn't care if someone, including Inga, is Jewish or German or what. He loves her just the same, and hates Diamant for separating him from his soul. Diamant determines to not only never get in the way of that, but to reunite the family as soon as he's able. It means he'll end up alone...but Inga isn't his to have. The Dobermanns are indeed reunited at the war's end, and spend a blissful final year or so together before Dobermann sacrifices himself in the Alpine Fortress. Diamant tries to save him, but Dobermann, knowing he'll just end up pulling him down with him, hits his hand and forces him to let go. His final words to Diamant: "Look after her." He's known about Diamant's feelings for a long time, but never hated him for that. It's quite a while before Inga learns of her husband's last request, as Diamant never tells her; she learns it from Lukas. Diamant reaffirms his feelings for her when she visits him about it; the two begin a cautious relationship. They never marry, but remain devoted to each other until Inga's death around a decade later, from early-onset dementia (she confuses Diamant for Dobermann, telling him she loves him, then in a brief moment of lucidity, adds, "I love you, Josef"); Diamant never partners with anyone else, though he continues to treat the Dobermanns' daughter, Adelina, as if she's his own. He commissions a sculpture for their graves: Louis Dobermann with a cross, Inga Dobermann with a Star of David, holding each other's hand and gazing at each other. In "In Heaven," Inga and Dobermann are reunited at last. But who is there for Diamant to meet...? My initial idea for the unnamed Frieda, in life, was for them to meet similarly to how it's described here, yet she tells him she's leaving the country, and she'll wait for him; after the war, he never goes looking for her, and they never meet again. This didn't sit well with me; Diamant wouldn't have left someone hanging like that. He had to have a good reason to never meet her again...the only way he'd never go seeking her is if she's not alive anymore. Frieda's story came into being as I wrote this up, and I learned not only who Diamant's soulmate is, but his own history too, and his ultimate motivation for taking the path he does, endangering himself up to the very end so he can help others. It isn't solely altruism that motivates him; it's hatred for the SS, and guilt over his past failure to save half of his own soul. Ironically, Dr. Schäfer describes Diamant to Sgt. Gerhardt as having "sold half his soul to the devil," following his murder of Dannecker--who was known as "Der Teufel"--and escape from his camp. In effect, he's "become" Dannecker. Gerhardt also notices all the similarities Diamant shares with members of the SS, telling him in a moment of anger that he and his enemy, Lt. Hesse, are merely two sides of the same coin. Diamant even disguises himself in an SS uniform. This is a harsh truth it takes Diamant a long time to accept, that in his efforts to set things right, he ends up radicalizing himself to be nearly indistinguishable from what he hates most. He isolates himself for a while following the war (the others believe he was captured and killed), before meeting the Dobermanns again. Diamant must intentionally wipe Frieda from his mind for a time. In "In Heaven," people (who don't go through purgatory, or already did) first meet with the person their soul calls out to the most. For example, Otto Himmel meets his wife Dagmar; Hesse meets Sophie; Teal Rat, abandoned by his family, meets a stranger who heard his soul call out in loneliness. Diamant doesn't meet Inga, he meets...Dannecker. It's utterly shocking for him to meet his old tormentor again this way, and for a moment he thinks he must be in Hell although he doesn't believe in it. Dannecker explains that the one your soul calls out to isn't necessarily your soulmate or even your friend; it's the person to whom you were most closely connected when you died, for better or worse. Schäfer's assessment of him wasn't too far off the mark, that in the absence of half his soul (metaphorically speaking, probably), something needed to fill the void, and what filled it was hate. Maybe, if Diamant had let it fade rather than fester, his soul would have healed sooner, and called out to the one it really wished to see. Dannecker says, better late than never; then lifts his head and looks at something behind Diamant. There she must be now, he says, the person Diamant truly wanted to meet. Diamant looks, and finds Frieda Orchudesch coming his way, smiling ear to ear. Stunned and confused, he glances back, yet Dannecker is gone. Frieda is still there, though, and she smiles up at him, saying, "I've been waiting for you." See also HERR ORCHUDESCH'S ENTRY. [Frieda Orchudesch 2024 [Friday, August 16, 2024, 12:00:08 AM]] |