BIRTHRIGHT: Chapter One

One

Danny stood second in line, behind Frank. There were six of them in all. Six slaves, linked together by a single chain looped around their ankles.  

He wasn’t the youngest. The fair-haired boy at the end of the line was only fourteen.  Slaves can never be sure of their exact age because dates and calendars are of little use to them, but Danny was pretty sure it was the middle of September in which case his seventeenth birthday was due about now. Anyhow, he and the fair-haired boy were the “babies” of the team and did all the running around while the four older slaves, including Frank, were the “muscle”.

Frank had known Danny since he was a baby. He’d been an apprentice in his father’s carpentry shop and had always been treated as part of the family. By the time Danny was twelve, Frank had risen to junior partner and was teaching the boy the skills of the trade. Then disaster struck. Their peaceful little Hampshire village was raided by the Black Guards. They came out of nowhere one night and set fire to the houses. Danny never understood the reason for it. There was a rumour that underground rebels had been hiding in one of the farms nearby, but nobody was really sure. Anyway that was when his world came to an end. The women were carted away in trucks while the men and boys were marched off to a remote encampment in Cumberland. He never saw his mother or sister again.

During the long trek north a riot broke out. Word had got around that the men were going to be sold into slavery. The guards came down hard on them. Six men were picked out at random and crucified. Danny’s father was one of them. He had to watch him die. It took three days. The horror haunted him for years. He’d wake up screaming and Frank, who was like a big brother to him, would always be there to give him courage.

Frank had promised Danny’s father that he would watch over the boy and protect him for as long as he was able; and, with some crafty maneuvering and a good deal of luck over the intervening years, the two had managed to stay together despite having been sold and resold countless times over.

The line shuffled forward as the Overseer unlocked the shelter door. All six slaves were barefoot and wore identical brown shirts and trousers made of coarse sacking, though some were more shredded than others, and a few were little more than grimy rags clinging to weathered torsos. Their short hair was cut very crudely, giving them a wild look, but they’d been shaved earlier that day so their faces were mostly smooth. They weren’t due to be hosed down until the morning which meant, as usual, they would carry all the day’s dirt, soil and sweat into the shelter with them.

This day had been like any other – long, wearisome and punishing. They were demolishing a building, brick by brick. They didn’t know why. They didn’t even know who their owner was, but he had no interest in wasting money on fuel and electricity. He believed in driving slave muscle to its limit. All they had were their hands, shoulders and backs, some mallets and a couple of ramrods. They’d been purchased cheap at a slave market outside Norwich and were only expected to last as long as it took to finish the job. They’d started as soon as they stepped off the lorry two weeks ago, and there’d been no let up since. Work began at dawn every day and continued through till dusk, with one hour’s rest in the morning and one hour in the afternoon. Three overseers, working in shifts, had them under constant supervision – with the skillful use of an electric prod and the occasional beating. That was the total sum of their world.

While the older slaves wielded hammers and heaved great piles of bricks, Danny and the fair-haired boy were busy clearing away rubble and keeping the “muscles” well watered. It was wearisome and relentless, but four years of slavery had toughened Danny’s spirit – up to a point. He worked hard and tried to avoid beatings but there were periods of the day when he would find himself lost in thought.

For a start, Frank was beginning to irritate him. He was grateful, of course, for the way he’d looked after him after his father’s death, but that was years ago now. He wasn’t a child any more. He didn’t need protection, he needed rescuing. Frank just didn’t understand. No one knew about the pain that was eating into his heart everyday, suffocating him by degrees. He longed for something to happen. Something that would shatter the monotony of his dismal and pointless life.

“What’s up with you tonight?” Frank whispered as he and Danny took their usual places in the corner of the shelter furthest away from the door. A single oil lamp swung from the ceiling, casting weird shadows as the other slaves jostled for position around them. Each was clutching a slab of slave chow. This was their one and only meal of the day, a scientifically prepared mixture of nutrients which they chewed at before settling down to sleep.

“Nothing.”

“You’re scowling.”

“It’s him. It’s Goldilocks.”

Danny nodded in the direction of the fair-haired boy.

“He’s been sucking up to the overseer all day. He makes me sick.”

“Give it a rest, son.”


“I’m fucked off with this place.”

“I don’t have the energy to argue. Eat your chow and shut up.”

“Why do you always give in to it?”

“Keep your voice down or you’ll have the Overseer on to us. Give into what?”

“Why don’t we ever get special treatment? Eh? Why’s it always the creeps who get extra privileges. Because I was watching him all afternoon and the overseer took him off duty at least three times. Three bloody times. He’s a fucking creep.”

There was a brief flurry amongst the rags and chains as Danny lashed out at the empty air with his foot. But the disturbance didn’t last long. The other slaves wanted nothing to do with his tantrums. They didn’t care about anything except their aches and their bruises. Most had their eyes closed, chewing their food in moody silence, dreaming of sleep.

Frank’s day had been particularly arduous– smashing up concrete blocks with a chisel and a hammer. His muscles had seized up and his hands were raw. He’d had to tear strips off his shirt to wrap round his fingers to stop the bleeding. His body was screaming with pain and he just wanted Danny to shut up. They needed their sleep. Morning always came too soon.

“The boy knows I wouldn’t hesitate if there was anything I could do to make life easier for him,” he thought. “But what’s the point. Keep alive and keep strong –  that’s all a slave needs to think about.”

He hooked his arm round Danny’s shoulder and pulled him close.

“I love you, boy,” he whispered.               

“Yes, sure,” mumbled Danny.

They remained still for about five minutes then Danny shook himself free.

To be continued...

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