BIRTHRIGHT: Chapter Two

BIRTHRIGHT
by John Dee Cooper
© 2021

Chapter 2

“To our Warrior Fathers.”

Kurt raised his champagne glass.

“To our Warrior Fathers.”  

The three boys, looking grand in their white ties and silk waistcoats, relaxed in the warmth of the Regional Governor’s library, Kurt nestling in his father’s armchair, Chad and Bruno sprawled across the sofa, drifting lazily in the drowsy heat of the open fire, replete after their stupendous meal.

Could life be any better?

The spread was in honour of Kurt’s seventeenth birthday and his two best friends from school were honoured guests. In the absence of his father who was away on business, the meal had been hosted by Kurt’s uncle Conrad, who was a great hit with the boys not only because he furnished them with vintage champagne and even let them sample some the Governor’s rare liqueurs, but because he was a Colonel in the Black Guard, full of stories that had captivated and enthralled his young audience. And it was the subject of slavery that had caught their imagination most.  

As a young officer, Conrad had been stationed at Aschaven, the legendary home of the Reich’s first experimental slave processing unit. He’d pioneered many of the techniques designed to break down subjects – especially delinquent youths – moulding them into efficient Reichssklaven, totally obedient to the pleasure of their Masters.

Slaves were common enough nowadays but it hadn’t always been that way, and Colonel Heydrich had enthralled the boys with tales of those early times – slave hunts, yoking and branding, physical torture, crucifixion. Left on their own while Conrad dealt with an urgent phone call, the boys’ could talk of nothing else.   

“But do slaves actually have souls?” queried Chad.

“Have you ever looked at one, up close?” said Bruno. “I mean really close.
They’re not human. They’re missing something. That’s why it’s so easy to tame them. ”        
      
“But we have a responsibility to look after them,” said Kurt, sounding a little like his father, he thought. He was feeling very grown up. “My father says we have a duty to protect and nurture inferior races.”

“Are they actually a separate race, though?” asked Chad.

“Of course they are,” proclaimed Bruno. “Now shut up! Kurt’s speaking.”

“Well the ones that are born as slaves I suppose technically belong to a separate race,” continued Kurt, thrown a little by Bruno’s interruption and struggling to find his way round the problem. “And the ones that are born free and then made into slaves, well I suppose they must be different. There must be something about their genetic make-up. They’re naturally inferior – or weak, or something, I suppose – or else why would we need to enslave them?”

“Excellent point,” said Bruno.

“But then we have a duty as Reichssöhne, to train them,” continued Kurt,
“teach them discipline – so that they can fulfill their purpose...”

“Which is...”, prompted Bruno – and all three chanted in unison the words that had been drilled into them at school, “...to obey the will of their Masters and serve the New Order.”

It seemed natural after that triumphant rally to order the house-boy to fill their glasses with more champagne.

“Take this one, for example,” said Bruno, grabbing the startled boy by the shoulder as he set down the bottle. “He’s all dressed up in a white shirt and smart black trousers and polished shoes – courtesy of your father, Kurt – but that doesn’t hide the fact that without us he’s nothing. How old would you say he was?”       

The slave knew he had no part in this conversation, so remained silent as

Bruno pushed him into the middle of the room.

“Fifteen or sixteen?” guessed Chad.       

“A bit older than that,” said Kurt.

“Somewhere around our age, then,” concluded Bruno. “But look at him. He hasn’t got the brains to make his own decisions. He couldn’t clothe himself, or feed himself. He relies for everything, even his existence – especially his existence – on pleasing his Master – which in this case happens to be your esteemed father, Kurt. And he knows it.”

“He looks bright enough to me,” said Chad, “But then, I really can’t imagine having an intelligent conversation with him.”

“Well you couldn’t, Chad,” said Bruno bluntly. “He’s a slave.”

And he gave the boy a sharp slap across the back of the head, to drive the point home.

“I doubt he can even read. Here boy, what does the label on that bottle say?”
Fearful of contradicting the young Master, the boy bowed his head and said, “I don’t know, sir.”

“Well, that’s not true,” said Kurt. “I know for a fact he can read. My father’s very particular about buying domestic slaves who can read.”

“So on top of everything else he’s a liar!” proclaimed Bruno.   

The slave boy held his breath, petrified at what might happen next.

“You can see it in his eyes.”

He grabbed the boy by the hair and pulled him over to the fireplace where they could examine his face more closely.

“You can see how weak he is. He’s trembling. Feel him. He’s actually shaking with fear because he knows that he deserves a beating. He knows that I could snuff him out if I wanted to. I would be in my rights.”

“Yes, well hold on Bruno,” said Kurt. “Don’t get carried away. He’s my father’s property, so go steady.”

“You’re going way over the top as usual, Bruno,” said Chad. “The boy’s scared. You’ve got him confused. Ease up on him.”

Reluctantly, Bruno let the boy go.

“Anyway, you see my point.”

“And what point is that?” enquired Uncle Conrad, who had suddenly appeared in the doorway.

The boys jumped to their feet.   

“At ease gentlemen. Do you mind if I join you?”

He looked across at the house-boy, who was still shaking with fear.

“I see you’re taking an interest in the slave."              

“Yes, uncle,” said Kurt. “We were discussing what makes them different from us... the slaves, I mean.... what makes them different from normal people.”

“And what was your conclusion?” asked Colonel Heydrich, rubbing his hands in front of the fire. His imposing figure inspired the boys with a sense of trust, order and authority.

“It’s in their blood, isn’t it, sir?” suggested Bruno.

“Well, not strictly speaking. Biologically they’re the same as us. What’s different is our superior strength and entitlement as founders of the New Reich. Owning slaves is our natural reward after years of conquest and sacrifice. But I didn’t come here to give you a lecture. And you’ve probably drunk enough champagne for one night, don’t you think?.”

He signalled the house-boy to bring coffee.

“I’ve been saving up a little surprise for you Kurt. An extra birthday treat – and one I’m sure you’ll want to share with your friends. While you’ve been away at school, your father and I have made some alterations to the stable yard down by the river.”

“Is that to do with what’s happening in the deserted village?” asked Kurt. “I know father’s got a gang of slaves demolishing some of the cottages there.”       

“No this is something quite different.”

The Colonel paused as the house-boy returned with a tray of coffee.

“Slaves aren’t just for work, you know,” he said watching the boy handing out cups. “They’re for play as well. They can enrich our lives in so many ways. We’ve converted the old stables into what you might call an exercise yard. It’s somewhere you and your friends can go to learn how to handle slaves and how to get the most out of them. I thought you might like to go and have a look at it now.”   

The prospect of trekking across the estate in the cold this late in the evening to look at some old stables didn’t particularly appeal to the boys.

“Could we take the house-boy with us, sir?” asked Bruno. “Then you could show us some of those experiments you were telling us about?”

“We can do a lot better than that,” said the Colonel. “We can collect a couple of slaves from that work gang you mentioned, Kurt. They’ll be more suitable for what I had in mind. It’s dark now so they won’t be working. We can play with them all night as long as we get them back in time to begin work in the morning.”

“Wow – an all-nighter!” exclaimed Chad.  Things were looking more promising.

“Wrap up well. I don’t want you  catching colds” said the Colonel. “And perhaps the fresh air might sober you up a bit!”   

“What are we waiting for?” said Kurt, jumping to his feet. “Let’s go!”

To be continued...