Roots of Evil(101)

The lower half of her body felt as if it was one massive bruise, and she thought she was bleeding as well, although it was impossible to be sure because the sofa on which she was lying was a wet squalid mess from the men. ‘Try not to impregnate the bitch,’ Leo Dreyer had said, and most of them had withdrawn before reaching orgasm. One – a heavy, fat-jowled man – faltered after a time, and Alice felt him slide flaccidly out of her. But he reached a hand down, guiltily and furtively, and fumbled frantically between his legs until there was the sudden wash of hot stickiness on her stomach. A wave of nausea engulfed her. Dreadful! This man is a Nazi murderer – he probably took part in the massacre of Kristallnacht – and he’s masturbating on to me!

She had expected Mildner to take his turn, but he did not; he remained near the door, the wolf-snarl strongly evident, and when the men had all finished, he rapped out a terse order and went out with them, closing the door behind him.

Leaving Alice alone with Leo Dreyer.



She had thought he had not been physically aroused by the rape, and she had thought that like Mildner he had obtained his satisfaction simply by watching.

But he walked slowly to the sofa, and looked down at her, and said, ‘And now it is my turn, baroness.’

The pain was threatening to swamp Alice’s whole body by now, but from out of its clawing depths, she said, ‘Why do you still call me that? Why did you maintain that identity with Mildner and the others?’

‘Because tonight I am settling an account with the arrogant creature who double-crossed the Führer,’ said Dreyer. ‘It was Lucretia von Wolff who played her arrogant game inside Buchenwald so tonight it is Lucretia von Wolff I am punishing.’ As he unbuttoned his trousers and lowered himself on to her, Alice realized that far from being unaroused, either the sight of his officers raping her or his own burning hatred – or perhaps both of these – had brought him to an almost unbearable pitch of hungering excitement. And that he was about to slake that hunger.



He was far more brutal than the others had been, and he was vicious and pitiless.

Alice, already in more pain than she could have believed possible, finally slid into a semi-conscious state, where she was no longer fully aware of her surroundings but where the pain was still a monstrous black and crimson swelling tide hammering with rhythmic insistence against her body. On and on and on, until you wanted to die…On and on and on, until at last you knew you were dying, and you welcomed it, because once dead you would feel nothing…

And then swimming back to the surface for a moment and to realization again – oh God, yes, I’m in this dreadful place, and I’m being raped…Oh, for pity’s sake, reach your horrid climax – for the love of all the saints in the world, just come and let me fall back down into this uncaring darkness…

There was a final unbelievable wrench of agony, and she heard herself cry out, and then the darkness closed over her.



A slightly harsh, but vaguely familiar voice, somewhere beyond the darkness, said, ‘I think she’s coming round now,’ and another voice, also vaguely recognizable, said, ‘If only we had a drop of brandy – or proper bandages.’

‘No, she’s all right. She’ll recover. She’s a very tough lady.’

Alice opened her eyes to the thick-smelling atmosphere of the hut, and the concerned faces of the women who, a few hours earlier, had denounced her as a spy. She was lying on a narrow bed; two of the women were sponging her face, and there was a thick comforting pad of something between her thighs. Someone had wrapped blankets around her – they were thin and not very clean and the surface was scratchy, but Alice did not care.

‘You’re still bleeding a bit,’ said the woman with the slanting cheekbones. ‘But we’ve cleaned you up as well as we can, and we don’t think you’re in any danger.’

Alice sat up and her head swam. She started to ask a question, and then said, ‘I’m sorry, but I think I’m going to be sick—’ and at once the woman put a tin basin under her mouth.

‘Thank you,’ gasped Alice when the spasms had stopped. ‘I’m sorry – this is disgusting for you.’

‘Not in the least. My father was a doctor, and my brother was training with him. If the Nazis had not come to my village I would have studied medicine as well. My name is Ilena,’ said the woman. ‘Do we call you baroness, or my lady, or what?’

And again there was that flare of warning that came not from within but from without. Don’t give away any more than you have to. On the crest of this flare, Alice said, ‘Lucretia. Just Lu, if you like. It’s quicker.’

‘And it doesn’t have the Borgia ring to it,’ said Ilena, and Alice caught the dry irony of this, and suddenly liked Ilena very much.

‘We’ve managed to brew some coffee,’ said one of the others, carefully carrying a tin cup from the stove. ‘It isn’t very good, but it’s hot.’

Alice said, gratefully, ‘I don’t care what it is. Thank you.’ She sipped the coffee gratefully, and then said, ‘You’re being very kind to me.’

‘We look after our own,’ said Ilena, and the others nodded.





CHAPTER THIRTY




We look after our own…

With the women’s help Alice recovered from the physical effects of the rape, and was pulled down into the grinding routine of Auschwitz.