Lazarus Rising Revisited (5 + 6

Chapter 5

Lazarus heard steps coming up the stairs toward him from below. These were not the steps of a child however. These were the footsteps of men, two of them at least. He stood up beside the bed and took a deep breath.

The key turned in the lock and a fair haired, skinny man in his mid to late 30's, in a dark jacket and trousers entered the room. He was followed by a much older man who looked very official.

"Ahh, my patient" said the younger man.
He held out his hand to him and tentatively Lazarus took it. The man's palm was cool to the touch.
"My name is Alexander Metcalf and I am the village doctor. I must say I am glad you are awake sir. You had us all worried I must say.'
"Thank you for your concern sir, I appreciate your help."

The other man spoke, 'I am Mr. Spring and I act as constable for the village. Can you tell us who you are?"
"No I can't" Lazarus admitted, "I lost my memory after Waterloo and it has still not returned."
"Memory loss; is that possible Doctor?" the constable asked.
"Yes Constable, if the trauma to the head or body is very severe, it is very likely that the brain may have been affected."
"My memories are in there somewhere, but I cannot access them. I only see them in dreams or visions. The man who saved my life and nursed me back to health called me Lazarus. It's as good a name as any."
"Your friend had a sense of humour at least" the doctor said.
"Do you think this Lazarus is dangerous Doctor?" Spring asked.
"No, just a wounded soldier, Constable. I think we are safe in our beds."
The Constable turned back to Lazarus, "I'm sorry that I was so suspicious Mr Lazarus. My eldest son died at Talavera and any soldier of Wellington's army is welcome here."
"You have nothing to apologize for Constable. I would have been suspicious of me too."
"Can you tell us why you came to Stelling Minnis?" Spring asked Lazarus.
"I saw the name in a dream." Lazarus explained. "As I said, I see things in visions."
"Why were you at the churchyard?"
"As I said before, Mr Spring, I had a vision and the church and the Virgin Mary statue were part of it. I don't even know who the people are whose names are on the gravestone."
"The Foxworth's" said the doctor. 'Mrs Foxworth died when I was at Oxford doing my medical training. I never really knew her but my father did. He was the doctor here before me."
"Mr Foxworth died just a few months ago" Mr Spring added.
"Yes a terrible accident. He fell down the steps at the back of the house" the young doctor started, 'He had been drinking quite heavily and slipped. Broke his neck poor man."
"I just wish I could remember why they are so important."
"Give yourself time Lazarus" the doctor said. "Rest, relax and if Stelling Minnis is important to you; your memories will return."

Spring turned to the doctor, "If everything is well here, I need to return to my duties."
"Yes Mr Spring, I don't believe Mr Lazarus is dangerous, thank you for your assistance."
"Yes Constable" Lazarus said, "Thank you."
"Take care of yourself" the constable said and he left the room and shut the door behind him.

"How are you feeling? the doctor asked.
"Better thank you." Lazarus replied. He glanced to the window and saw again the house that had made him feel so strange.

"Tell me doctor, whose house is that?"
"That's the Foxworth house. George married into the family that owned the house before and when his wife's father died, he inherited the estate."
"I know the house but I have never seen it in a vision or dream."
"Don't worry about it now my friend." The doctor reassured him. "Maybe, if you are feeling better, you should put on some clean clothes and come downstairs and meet my wife."
He pointed to a dresser in the corner of the room.
"The clothes are old but they should fit you."
"Thank you again for your kindness Doctor Metcalf."
"Please, call me Alexander."
"Thank you Alexander."

The doctor turned and left the room, leaving Lazarus alone.

Lazarus sat back down on the bed and glanced out of the window towards the house in the trees. Although the doctor seemed friendly enough, he still couldn't trust anything anyone said. He was surrounded by people but he was completely alone.

________________________________________

The parlour was cozy and bright light from the morning sun was streaming through a large bay window. On one wall was a hearth with a stout but unremarkable mantelpiece with several pans hanging from it. There was a woman there too, she was facing away from Lazarus as he entered the room and for a second Lazarus was afraid to say anything as he seemed totally focused on the task she was performing.

"So, you are finally up then." she stated without even turning her head.

"Yes" Lazarus replied, "You must be Mrs. Metcalf?"

"Yes, but you can call me Elizabeth." She turned around and flashed him a smile.

"Elizabeth, yes...I'm...."

"Lazarus" she interrupted, "I heard."

"I want to thank you for your hospitality:" he said.

"Not hospitality Mr. Lazarus. Christian charity. I couldn't have lived with myself if I had let someone lie in the gutter."

"Thank you anyway."

"You're welcome. Are you hungry?"

"Yes thank you, I am."

"Then sit down and eat, before you collapse again/"

He sat down at the large kitchen table and helped himself to some roughly baked bread and jam.

"Drink some milk Mr. Lazarus, its fresh from the cow"

As he reached for the milk jug the door was pushed open roughly and Samuel came bowling in all arms and legs.

"Hello again." he said with a grin.

"Hello Samuel, where have you been?" Lazarus asked/

"Up to no good" his mother said before he had a chance to answer.

"No mother, I've been up at the big house. There is a lot of excitement/"

"Why, what's going on? she asked.

"Someone is moving in" Samuel answered, "there are men with boxes and everything/"

"Well its nothing to do with us" his mother said, "sit down and eat your breakfast. It will soon be time for church."

"Yes Mama."

The boy sat down and looked over at Lazarus

"Are you coming to church with us Mr. Lazarus?"

Before he could even reply his mother interrupted "Of course he is Samuel; eat up and get washed, we will need to leave soon."

"Is there anything I can do?" Lazarus asked,

"Thank you but no Mr. Lazarus. You just sit and enjoy your breakfast. My husband will return soon and then we shall all go to church together."

"Thank you. Can you tell me about Stelling Minnis? I saw the name in a dream but I have no real memory of it. Just flashes really."
"Well" she began, "300 souls live in the parish. There are several large farms, the forest, the river and the green. One good shop which serves our needs and an inn. The inn can get a bit rowdy sometimes. There's the church of course and once a month there is market which sets up on the village green."
"Maybe when I am ready, I can take a walk around the village Samuel, will you come with me and help me explore?"
"Yes, Mr. Lazarus, that would be splendid. Can I mother, can I be Mr. Lazarus' guide?"
"I don't see any reason why not" his mother said, "but your chores come first."
"Yes Mama" he sighed sulkily, but he glanced at Lazarus and winked.

Lazarus smiled at that. It was normal. Normal had not been part of his life in a while.

___________________________________________

The handle on the kitchen door rattled as it opened and the doctor came walking into the room.
"Father!" Samuel shouted with excitement, "I am to be Mr. Lazarus' guide so he can explore the village."
"That's excellent news" his father said.
He walked over to his son and gave him a hug, He then walked over to his wife and kissed her on the cheek.
"Sorry I was so long my dear. There is quite some commotion up at the Foxworth house."
"Samuel has already told us all about it, hasn't he Mr. Lazarus?"
"Yes, he seemed quite excited at the prospect of someone moving in." Lazarus confirmed.
"Well its sat empty since Mr. Foxworth died. A solicitor from London has been looking after the estate, but it looks like he has finally succeeded in his task."
"Which was?" asked Lazarus.
"Well, because old George left no last will and testament, and his son has not been seen for over 12 years, there are, or were, major issues as to who inherits. It looks like Mr. Quill, the solicitor, has finally found someone who can inherit the house."
"Don't forget the fortune" his wife added, "Poor old George was worth a pretty penny."
"Yes" the doctor continued, "he made his money through the damnable slave trade. The word was that he was one of the richest men in England."

Suddenly Elizabeth exclaimed, "OH my Lord! Will you look at the time. We will be late for church. Move yourselves, lets go."
She pulled off her apron, grabbed a shawl and was out of the door even before Lazarus could stand up.
"Come my friend" the doctor said. "We can talk more later."
Lazarus, Alexander and Samuel followed Elizabeth out of the house,

_________________________________________

The church of St. Mary's was built in the 13th century. Its small tower meant that it was not as imposing as some churches bur it did still dominate the village. The grey flint walls were typically Kentish in their construction and they seemed to help the beautiful stained glass of the main window stand out even more.

As Lazarus and the Metcalf's approached the church, Lazarus glanced over again to the Virgin Mary statue on the tomb. A shiver ran down his back and Samuel noticed his discomfort.

"Are you alright Mr. Lazarus?

"I'm fine" he lied. It actually felt like someone had walked over his grave.

Lazarus could see that a large crowd of people had gathered outside the church and the level of conversation seemed very loud and excitable. The minister, a thin, tall man with bony fingers and sharp facial features saw Alexander as they approached and rushed up to meet them.

"Ah Alexander finally" he said excitedly. "I am so glad you could come today. Something wonderful has happened. Oh happy, happy day."

What is it Reverend? What's going on?"

"Just as in the bible; a prodigal has returned."

The crowd parted to reveal an elegantly dressed man in his late 20's. He had short, neatly trimmed hair which was light brown in colour. He had a small but nasty looking scar on his left cheek, but this did not diminish his handsomeness. He walked up to the doctor and shook his hand, then Elizabeth's and finally Samuel's before looking up at Lazarus. He could not be sure but it seemed that the villages other new arrival looked distinctly uncomfortable at the sight of him.

"Pleased  to meet you all" he said with a very proper and polite accent. "Sorry to have caused so much fuss. I am afraid my homecoming has caused a large amount of hysteria. I was hoping it would be quieter."

"I'm sorry" Alexander began, "but who are you?"

"Oh my goodness, terribly sorry, should have introduced myself first. My name is Robert Foxworth."

Chapter 6: 17th June 1804

The girl was young, maybe only 15 or 16 but the boy had never seen anything so beautiful. She was slim and blonde and she was wearing a white lace blouse and a long white skirt with blue trim on the hem. The skirt had been pulled up to above her knees revealing pale but perfect legs and dainty feet.

She was sitting on the riverbank and those dainty feet were dangling down into the cool, clear water, Every now and then she would kick her feet upwards making the water splash onto her legs, skirt and even her blouse making it almost transparent. Every time the water splashed upwards she let out a little shriek of pleasure. The water cooling her down from the hot summer sun. In her hands were some wild flowers that she had picked during her walk to the river.

He was 15 nearly 16. He was watching her from behind a tree. He had not meant to spy on her, but he couldn't help himself and the feelings he felt were strange and new. He was tall for his age, nearly 6 feet, but he had the gangly awkwardness boys that age sometimes have. He had grown by nearly a foot in the last year and his clothes, although relatively new, looked like they were too small for his body. It looked like they had shrunk while he had stretched.

Girls, or at least noticing them, was new to him. At Eton College girls were a rarity, unless you count the servants and it was not good form to speak to them as they were below your station. Since he had returned from school he had noticed girls more often. The servants at the house, well the younger, more attractive ones anyway, would smile and greet him and he would be entranced by the sound of their voices, the look of their skin and the shape of their bodies.

His father had sent him to Eton 5 years earlier.
"It will make a man of you" his father had said.
He still remembered the first night in the dormitory. 4 older boys had beaten him with broomstick handles on his legs and buttocks. He had cried himself to sleep that night still holding the miniature portrait of his recently deceased mother in his trembling fingers.

Despite this unfortunate start to his Eton experience, the boy quickly distinguished himself academically and on the sporting fields of the great old school. As he grew he became more and more popular with some of his classmates and some of the tutors and soon he saw the school as his home. The only downside was because of his background. He had come from "New Money" as some of the upper class men called it. Most of the pupils at Eton had come from nobility or had followed their older brothers, fathers, uncles and grandfathers into the school.

Robert Foxworth's father was a commoner who had married into the gentry and made money out of the exploitation of human beings. On the one occasion that his father turned up at the school he was branded by Robert's friends as vulgar because of the way he used money to get what he wanted. Robert felt real shame at his father's behaviour and was glad he only visited once. When he had mentioned this to his father, George had exploded with rage and told his son that as  he was his heir he would get the best that money could buy and he encouraged his son to "damn the stuck up little snots, they are just jealous of our success".

Robert was still watching the girl from the trees and he was trying to pluck up the courage to go and talk to her when he stood on a twig that snapped loudly. When she heard the snap she swung around quickly to look what had made the noise. He embarrassed tried to hide behind the tree but he was too slow.

"Oi!  Who is that? What you doing sneaking up on a girl like that for?"

Her beauty may have been incandescent, but her voice was not the voice of an angel. Discovered he decided to face her directly and he walked slowly down to the riverbank so that he stood only a few feet away from her. He decided there and then that this girl was what he wanted. His mouth suddenly became dry and he could feel his heart beating harder in his chest.  He stood up straight so she could get a better look at him and then he bowed deeply.

"I'm sorry" he managed to blurt out. "I saw you from the path and I am not ashamed to say that I was transfixed by your beauty. I could not take my eyes off you. I hope you are not offended by my oafish behaviour."
"Offended, no" she said. "No one has ever called me beautiful before though, especially not a handsome young man"
She smiled a brilliantly white smile and then she blushed.
"I have never called anyone beautiful before" Robert replied and he blushed too. "My name is Robert Foxworth"
"Abigail, Abigail Colville" she said as she got up from the riverbank. She was suddenly aware that her skirt had not fallen down and that her legs were still on show. She pushed it down quickly to hide her embarrassment.

Robert held out his hand the way his mother had taught him was the proper way to greet someone and he was a little taken aback when Abigail didn't take it. She just looked at it, with a puzzled look on her face. Suddenly she burst out laughing at his formality and Robert suddenly felt vey silly. He blushed even more and she saw his embarrassment.
"I'm sorry Robert, but I have never shaken a boy by the hand before. It is a very strange way to say hello/"
He regained his composure and then realised that his hand was still outstretched towards her and he quickly pulled it back to his side.

"My father says that you can tell a lot about a person by the strength of his handshake" Robert explained.
"OK then" she took a large stride towards him, puffed up her chest so that her breasts pushed against the material of her blouse and grabbed his hand firmly and started pumping his arm up and down as if she was trying to pump water from a well. He was so taken by surprise that he actually yelped at the strength of her grip.

"Are you alright Mr Foxworth?" she asked with a cheeky grin on her face.
"Yes thank you Miss Colville." he managed to gasp.

All he could actually think about was how soft the skin on her hand was and that he wondered if the rest of her was as soft. He realised that he had not yet let go of her hand and he didn't want to. She let go of his hand and then sat back down on the grassy riverbank. She patted the grass next to her as an invitation for him to also sit and he quickly joined her.

"So Robert, what does my handshake say about me?"

Robert thought for a moment. To his eyes she was a vision of beauty, pale hair and pale almost porcelain like skin. Her eyes shone with a dazzling brightness and her body was desirable. He could feel that desire rising in himself. When she spoke she sounded not like an angel or the ladies he had met before but like the dock workers he had met while watching his father's ships being loaded and unloaded at Tilbury. She had the handshake and grip of a man twice her size. He tried t put it into words but all he could say was, 'You're nice."

Abigail looked at him with those beautiful eyes and said "Nice?"
He panicked. "Yes nice, no beautiful, amazing. I have never seen anyone so lovely and all I want to do is hold your hand again and never let go."
He realised that he was getting more and more flustered and that his own mouth was becoming a liability. All he wanted to do was dig a deep hole for himself and hide. It was then she started laughing again and he realised that she had been teasing him, and that he had fallen for it.

"You're a funny one Mr Foxworth." she said, "Where are you from?"
"I live in Stelling Minnis, but I am away at school most of the year. I am back for the whole summer. Where do you live, Miss Colville?"
"My father is the miller" she said, "we live in the windmill. My mother died a few years back and I look after him."
"My mother is dead too" he began, "She drowned"
"I'm sorry" she said and she took his hand again but this time her grip was not as tight.

They sat silently for a while, watching the river float gently by. Robert was enjoying this day more than any other in recent memory. He turned to Abigail and said, "Abigail, the time I have here is so short and I don't want to waste any of it. Would it be alright if I spend my time with you? I would very much like it if we were friends."
"Just friends? That would be such a shame."
She leant forward and kissed him. He had never kissed a girl before and he decided that he never wanted to kiss another girl ever again.
"That's settled then, fancy a swim?"

She stood up and pulled her blouse over her head, slipped out of her skirt and before Robert could even blink she had jumped into the cool water. He watched her for a second as she surfaced just her undergarments on her legs and arms now bare and he decided that he wanted her. He quickly removed his own clothes and shoes and dressed in nothing but his underwear he jumped into the river and joined her.

It was going to be an interesting summer.

_________________________________________

The two months that they spent together passed quickly in a beautiful, joyous haze. Robert hoped that it would never end but he knew that soon he would have to leave. As the two young people became closer, their friendship, as so often happens with young people, turned to love and that love turned to passion.

One night, Robert and Abigail had been down by the river watching the stars in the clear summer night sky. Robert told her that not even the majesty of nature could be as beautiful as she was and they had kissed passionately. Later in the windmill that was her home with the sails creaking above them and the machinery clanking below they made love for the first time. It wasn't romantic, magical love but both of them were happy they had done it and when they were finished he held her close.

They had kept each other a secret from their respective families. Abigail's father was a well known drunk in the village and would frequent the inn far too frequently for Abigail's liking. Abigail was basically left alone to do as she wished by her father. He was never cruel or abusive to his daughter but he was quick to anger and she decided that it would be best that the least he knew about Robert the better.

Robert's father seemed to be permanently angry at him for what had happened to his mother and he openly blamed Robert for her death. This was one of the reasons Robert had to be sent away to school. Even his own father could not bear to look at him because he looked so much like the wife he had lost. Georges temper had not mellowed with the years and there had been rumours that he had even beaten a servant so badly that he had lost an eye.

Robert was happy that his father stayed away from Stelling Minnis and he dreaded the time they spent together. When Mrs Stokes told him that his father was returning to see him before he returned to school he shivered with fear. He knew such a lack of respect for ones father was wrong, but he felt justified in his opinion of him. When he told Abigail that his father was coming home she told him not to worry and that all would be well. He wasn't sure about that but he knew he should finally stand up to him.

The day his father was due to return, two events that would shape his life forever occurred. He met Abigail as usual by the river where they had first met and they embraced passionately.
"My love" he said, "I am so happy you came."
"I am happy too, but I have something to say. Promise me you wont be angry."
"Of course not Abigail. I love you and nothing you could say could anger me."
"I am with child" she admitted with her head bowed.
He was temporarily stunned but he quickly regained his composure and he lifted her up in his arms and smiled.
"Then that settles it" he said "I was going to tell my father about us tonight, but now I can tell him that I do not intend to return to school and I shall stay here with you."

Tears began to roll down her cheeks.
"No, we cannot" she said. "I told my father and he has gone mad with rage. He told me he would kill you Robert. I'm so sorry but not even a powerful man like your father will be able to stop him."

"It is my mess and I intend to deal with whatever happens. I will face  your father and ask for your hand in marriage. Surely he will see reason"

Suddenly from behind him he heard a vice filled with rage.
"Reason! I will give you reason you little bastard. I'm going to beat you to death for touching my little girl."
Abigail's father was holding a club and he was pointing it menacingly at Robert.
"Please sir stop! You are angry  and have every right to be. Please don't do anything that you shall regret."

The older man's anger could not be calmed and he ran at Robert with the club raised and he swung it towards him. The swing however caused him to lose his balance and a combination of drink, anger and the wet riverbank caused him to slip and fall. He hit his head hard against a rock and hit the fast flowing water with a loud splash. Abigail screamed as her fathers lifeless body started to float away on the current. Robert tried to catch him but with his face down the miller's body soon disappeared from view.
"Oh my God!" Abigail screamed, "What have you done?"
"But darling, you saw what happened, it was a terrible accident. I was trying to save him."
"Murderer!" she gasped, "Get away from me."

Panicked, Robert fled. He had gone from new father to murderer in the blink of an eye. He had to get back to the house and talk with his father, he would know what to do. He ran all the way back to the house and he arrived gasping just as his father got down from his coach.
"Father, I am glad to see you."
"Really Robert, I find that very hard to believe."
"No father, something terrible has happened and I need your help."
"Come inside, we can talk in my study."

A few minutes later father and son were standing face to face and Robert recounted everything that had happened by the river. His father listened quietly to all Robert had to say showing little emotion. Eventually when Robert had finished talking his father said, "So you have killed two people by drowning."
Robert was stunned, he stood there speechless.
"First your mother, now this Colville man. You have a knack for it. Do you remember when you were a young boy and you found out that I ordered sick slaves to be tossed overboard to drown? You called me a killer. No Robert, you are the killer and I will not help you."

Years of anger and resentment at his father exploded inside him. He launched himself at his father grabbing him by the throat and trying to force him down. He was not strong enough though and his father sent him flying with a single punch to the chest. Before he could recover, Robert saw his father's silver handled cane swinging down towards his head, He managed to fend off the first blow with his arm but the pain was excruciating. He couldn't stop the second blow and it hit him sharply on the temple where it split the skin and blood spilled from the wound onto his father's Indian carpet.

"Run Robert, run. Never return while I am alive. You are no longer my son. Get out, before you curse the rest of us."

With blood pouring from his head and tears in his eyes, Robert fled into the trees behind the house. His father got his wish, he never saw him again.