Chapter 7
The church of St. Mary's was filling up fast. Word had spread quickly of Robert Foxworth's miraculous return and everyone was trying to get a glimpse of the heir to the Foxworth estate. Lazarus and the Metcalf's had found themselves a seat in one of the churches box pews and although Lazarus did not know the man, he was also fascinated by his presence.
He had dreamed of the Virgin Mary statue which stood atop the graves of this mans parents and although he knew there was some connection between them and him he just couldn't remember what. He wanted to march up to Robert Foxworth and ask him but he couldn't do that, it wasn't the done thing in polite society. Foxworth had spoken to him but didn't seem to recognise him, so for the moment he decided to let it rest.
The congregation around him was buzzing with quiet conversation. When the vicar started to walk down the naïve, with the verger carrying the cross in front of him, the noise ceased and everyone settled down. The vicar, who was called the Reverend Anthony Parks, welcomed everyone to the service and had an extra special welcome for Foxworth.
"It is truly miraculous" he started, "that this young man, who left Stelling Minnis 12 years ago, under, let us be honest, a dark cloud, and we all thought he was dead, has returned to our village."
Lazarus wondered to himself what the 'dark cloud' he had left under was, but from what the Minister had said, it was clear that all had been forgiven. The vicar announced the opening hymn and everyone, Lazarus included, started to sing. He was half distracted though, he couldn't get Foxworth out of his head and whatever link there was between them was in his head somewhere and was hidden just below the surface. He decided to refocus his attention away from the other new arrival in town and focussed on the other people in the church, just in case there was anyone else here who would trigger sparks in his memory.
The Rev. Parks was standing in the pulpit and was singing with gusto. He seemed the polar opposite of Jacques, the priest who had given him his life back, who was thoughtful, quiet and approachable. This man seemed brash and loud and although not unfriendly, he seemed distant from his congregation. Lazarus remembered how Jacques was always there when a member of his flock needed help or religious guidance. Jacques who took in a foreign stranger and nursed him back to health. He was unsure if this man would have done the same.
He looked around the church and studied the other faces. He saw the Constable, Mr Spring, and he nodded a greeting. It seemed to Lazarus that the whole village had come to church and it was hard to see anyone clearly. A couple of faces perked his interest however. An elderly woman, who was being held up by another younger woman was standing almost opposite him. Lazarus guessed that she was in her late 70's and she looked very frail. Her eyes however told another story. They were sharp and intelligent and she saw everything. These eyes, the look on her face, seemed familiar to him, and she was looking at him. It could have been genuine curiosity as to who he was. Any new face in a village this size was sure to attract attention, but this was something more. He decided that after the service he would definitely want to say hello to her.
The hymn, which had moved into its third verse, continued and Lazarus, who had not really been concentrating, had lost his place. He glanced behind him and a few rows back he saw another face, another woman, this one much younger. She was closer to his age and she had blond curly hair which peeked out from beneath a black bonnet. She was dressed almost completely in black, which indicated that she was in mourning. Next to her was a young boy about 7 or 8 years old. He was small and thin and had short, jet black hair. He was wearing a very worn looking jacket that had been patched and repaired and an almost clean shirt. He was fidgeting and fussing the way small boys the world over do when they have been dressed in their itchy church clothes.
Lazarus suddenly realised he was staring at the woman so intently that she had noticed him looking and began to stare back at him. She seemed to turn pale as their eyes met and she had to reach out with her hand to support herself by grabbing the pew in front of her. Lazarus looked away, he hadn't expected to get such a strong reaction. The hymn was coming to an end and when it did the reverend asked everyone to sit.
"Friends,
old and new, welcome to St. Mary's church." the vicar began,
"Today my sermon is different to the one I intended, thanks to
the return of our beloved son, Robert Foxworth"
Lazarus looked at Foxworth and the young man appeared to be genuinely embarrassed by the praise he was getting.
"Although", the vicar continued, 'it is not Easter, I have decided to make the theme of my address 'Resurrection.
Resurrection does not just mean returning to life after death, no, no. It can have many meanings. It could be the start of a new life, different from the previous one. As you all know, before I became Vicar of St Mary's, I served in the army and fought in India and Portugal. My calling to the church was my own resurrection.
Resurrection, or rebirth, could be taking your rightful place in the world. Picking up where you left off and putting things right.
Our newly returned son, Robert, has also undergone his own resurrection. We thought he was lost and now he is found. Resurrected to us and to his home. The hero of Talavera has returned, 12 years older, changed yes, but still the young man who grew up surrounded by the love that a village like Stelling Minnis can provide.
The resurrection is something all Christians believe in and Robert's resurrection is proof to us all that miracles can happen."
A murmur of approval went around the church as the congregation almost to every man, woman and child whispered their approval to what the Reverend Parks had said.
"Now my friends" he called out, "I have a special surprise for you. Before the service I asked Mr Foxworth to read the lesson."
Some of the ladies gasped with anticipation as Foxworth rose to his feet and made his way to the lectern. Hush once again fell as he prepared to speak. Even Lazarus, who still felt uneasy about the two women, leaned forward with anticipation of what the man was going to read.
"I shall be reading from The Gospel of Saint Luke, chapter 15, verses 11 to 32."
Lazarus wasn't surprised, it was the Parable of the Prodigal Son.
"And Jesus said, “There was a man who had two sons. And the younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of property that is coming to me.’ And he divided his property between them. Not many days later, the younger son gathered all he had and took a journey into a far country, and there he squandered his property in reckless living. And when he had spent everything, a severe famine arose in that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed pigs. And he was longing to be fed with the pods that the pigs ate, and no one gave him anything.
But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants. And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. But the father said to his servants, 'Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’ And they began to celebrate.
Now his older son was in the field, and as he came and drew near to the house, he heard music and dancing. And he called one of the servants and asked what these things meant. And he said to him, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fattened calf, because he has received him back safe and sound. But he was angry and refused to go in. His father came out and entreated him, but he answered his father, ‘Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him! And he said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.'"
When Foxworth was finished, he slowly closed the bible and strode back to his seat, which was next to the solicitor who had been charged with finding him, The Reverend got up and started talking again but Lazarus was too distracted by the parable that Foxworth had read. Jacques had preached about it last Easter, back in the church in La Hulpe.
Maybe Foxworth chose it because he saw himself as the prodigal. Maybe it was a coincidence, but Lazarus knew, knew somewhere deep inside, that by discovering Foxworth's secret he would discover his own.
Something else was nagging at him, the two women had looked at him like they knew him and that was something else to investigate. He hoped that if they could help him find out the truth about himself, he hoped the truth was something he would really want to know.
Lazarus looked at Foxworth and the young man appeared to be genuinely embarrassed by the praise he was getting.
"Although", the vicar continued, 'it is not Easter, I have decided to make the theme of my address 'Resurrection.
Resurrection does not just mean returning to life after death, no, no. It can have many meanings. It could be the start of a new life, different from the previous one. As you all know, before I became Vicar of St Mary's, I served in the army and fought in India and Portugal. My calling to the church was my own resurrection.
Resurrection, or rebirth, could be taking your rightful place in the world. Picking up where you left off and putting things right.
Our newly returned son, Robert, has also undergone his own resurrection. We thought he was lost and now he is found. Resurrected to us and to his home. The hero of Talavera has returned, 12 years older, changed yes, but still the young man who grew up surrounded by the love that a village like Stelling Minnis can provide.
The resurrection is something all Christians believe in and Robert's resurrection is proof to us all that miracles can happen."
A murmur of approval went around the church as the congregation almost to every man, woman and child whispered their approval to what the Reverend Parks had said.
"Now my friends" he called out, "I have a special surprise for you. Before the service I asked Mr Foxworth to read the lesson."
Some of the ladies gasped with anticipation as Foxworth rose to his feet and made his way to the lectern. Hush once again fell as he prepared to speak. Even Lazarus, who still felt uneasy about the two women, leaned forward with anticipation of what the man was going to read.
"I shall be reading from The Gospel of Saint Luke, chapter 15, verses 11 to 32."
Lazarus wasn't surprised, it was the Parable of the Prodigal Son.
"And Jesus said, “There was a man who had two sons. And the younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of property that is coming to me.’ And he divided his property between them. Not many days later, the younger son gathered all he had and took a journey into a far country, and there he squandered his property in reckless living. And when he had spent everything, a severe famine arose in that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed pigs. And he was longing to be fed with the pods that the pigs ate, and no one gave him anything.
But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants. And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. But the father said to his servants, 'Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’ And they began to celebrate.
Now his older son was in the field, and as he came and drew near to the house, he heard music and dancing. And he called one of the servants and asked what these things meant. And he said to him, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fattened calf, because he has received him back safe and sound. But he was angry and refused to go in. His father came out and entreated him, but he answered his father, ‘Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him! And he said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.'"
When Foxworth was finished, he slowly closed the bible and strode back to his seat, which was next to the solicitor who had been charged with finding him, The Reverend got up and started talking again but Lazarus was too distracted by the parable that Foxworth had read. Jacques had preached about it last Easter, back in the church in La Hulpe.
Maybe Foxworth chose it because he saw himself as the prodigal. Maybe it was a coincidence, but Lazarus knew, knew somewhere deep inside, that by discovering Foxworth's secret he would discover his own.
Something else was nagging at him, the two women had looked at him like they knew him and that was something else to investigate. He hoped that if they could help him find out the truth about himself, he hoped the truth was something he would really want to know.
Chapter
8 Portugal 1808
The
woman he was lying next to was warm and her peachy round backside was
pushed against his groin and he felt himself stir again. She sighed
sweetly as his hardness pushed against her and he stirred and gently
groaned as her soft skin moved against his hardening cock.
"Senor", she whispered, "again?"
"Again" he replied
"This will cost you another 40 Real" she said.
"It's OK" he said, "I have been promoted to corporal and I want to celebrate with you."
She pushed back harder against him and his rock hard member found the moist, warm opening of her sex. She groaned loudly and he gasped as he sank deeply inside her.
Still gasping she said, "Maybe you will come back tonight?"
Still rocking behind her he said, "I wish I could but I have to return to the regiment soon and if I am late they will take my promotion away."
She made a disappointed sound but with speed and precision she eased herself off him, turned him onto his back and slowly impaled herself onto his still twitching manhood.
"OK senor, but when you come back to Porto, just ask for Elsa and I will look after you again."
"You need to look after me now" and he flashed the silver coin that he had in his hand in front of her dazzling green eyes.
"Yes senor."
She started to reach for the coin but he snatched his hand away. He grabbed her roughly by the hips and he raised up his legs so that she leaning forward with her sweet breasts just inches from his mouth. He took a nipple roughly in his mouth and sucked hard. She gasped loudly and he started bucking beneath her driving the full length of his cock inside her. She started to orgasm the more he pounded her and he to began to feel his own orgasm approaching. He took the coin and placed it between her lips and she held it there with her teeth.
She screamed again and he exploded sending his hot seed into her. She fell back onto the bed and let the coin slip from her mouth and it fell with a metallic rattle onto the dusty bedroom floor.
"Senor", she whispered, "again?"
"Again" he replied
"This will cost you another 40 Real" she said.
"It's OK" he said, "I have been promoted to corporal and I want to celebrate with you."
She pushed back harder against him and his rock hard member found the moist, warm opening of her sex. She groaned loudly and he gasped as he sank deeply inside her.
Still gasping she said, "Maybe you will come back tonight?"
Still rocking behind her he said, "I wish I could but I have to return to the regiment soon and if I am late they will take my promotion away."
She made a disappointed sound but with speed and precision she eased herself off him, turned him onto his back and slowly impaled herself onto his still twitching manhood.
"OK senor, but when you come back to Porto, just ask for Elsa and I will look after you again."
"You need to look after me now" and he flashed the silver coin that he had in his hand in front of her dazzling green eyes.
"Yes senor."
She started to reach for the coin but he snatched his hand away. He grabbed her roughly by the hips and he raised up his legs so that she leaning forward with her sweet breasts just inches from his mouth. He took a nipple roughly in his mouth and sucked hard. She gasped loudly and he started bucking beneath her driving the full length of his cock inside her. She started to orgasm the more he pounded her and he to began to feel his own orgasm approaching. He took the coin and placed it between her lips and she held it there with her teeth.
She screamed again and he exploded sending his hot seed into her. She fell back onto the bed and let the coin slip from her mouth and it fell with a metallic rattle onto the dusty bedroom floor.
He
left the brothel with a smile on his face and a confident, jaunty
stride. His friend Alex Tremaine, another newly promoted corporal,
was waiting for him on the other side of the cobbled Porto street.
They were both wearing the dark green uniforms of the 95th
rifles.
Tremaine and Robert were the same age, twenty, and they looked so similar that several officers and fellow soldiers had actually mixed them up or even thought they were brothers. They had met 3 years earlier when the same recruiting sergeant, a fat red haired veteran of the American war, had offered them the King's shilling on the same day in Winchester.
Robert, after running away from home, had travelled around the south of England getting work wherever he could find it. Eventually he found himself in Hampshire and after hearing the recruitment sergeant giving an impassioned speech about the evils of Napoleon's empire building, he decided to volunteer. Next to him in line was Alex and they struck up a conversation.
They both joined up and in basic training they had both proved to be excellent shots. Alex had been a poacher in his teenage years and had been using rifles since he was 12. Robert had learned to shoot at Eton, but did not admit this to anyone as public schoolboys didn't join the ranks.
After basic training they were assigned to the 95th Regiment of Foot, otherwise known as the Rifles. The unit was manned by specialist soldiers who were trained as marksmen, scouts and skirmishers. Most other British soldiers wore the traditional bright red uniforms. The 95th were the first regiment to wear the dark green and they were also proud to wear the white sash on their arms that meant they were chosen men.
"Come on Robbie" Alex said in a loud voice, "You can't shag every whore in Portugal by yourself. The rest of us will go crazy."
Robert smiled at his friend. "I know, can't help it if I'm pretty."
"Pretty ugly" laughed Alex and they strode down the street laughing together.
Tremaine and Robert were the same age, twenty, and they looked so similar that several officers and fellow soldiers had actually mixed them up or even thought they were brothers. They had met 3 years earlier when the same recruiting sergeant, a fat red haired veteran of the American war, had offered them the King's shilling on the same day in Winchester.
Robert, after running away from home, had travelled around the south of England getting work wherever he could find it. Eventually he found himself in Hampshire and after hearing the recruitment sergeant giving an impassioned speech about the evils of Napoleon's empire building, he decided to volunteer. Next to him in line was Alex and they struck up a conversation.
They both joined up and in basic training they had both proved to be excellent shots. Alex had been a poacher in his teenage years and had been using rifles since he was 12. Robert had learned to shoot at Eton, but did not admit this to anyone as public schoolboys didn't join the ranks.
After basic training they were assigned to the 95th Regiment of Foot, otherwise known as the Rifles. The unit was manned by specialist soldiers who were trained as marksmen, scouts and skirmishers. Most other British soldiers wore the traditional bright red uniforms. The 95th were the first regiment to wear the dark green and they were also proud to wear the white sash on their arms that meant they were chosen men.
"Come on Robbie" Alex said in a loud voice, "You can't shag every whore in Portugal by yourself. The rest of us will go crazy."
Robert smiled at his friend. "I know, can't help it if I'm pretty."
"Pretty ugly" laughed Alex and they strode down the street laughing together.
They
arrived at regimental HQ a few minutes later and they saw Sergeant
Crayford sitting on the steps outside. Crayford was in his early 40's
and already bald. He was a large man, built like a bear and his own
green 95th jacket seemed too tight for him. When he saw the two young
corporal's approaching he stood up to his full height and bellowed
across the street, "Where the hell have you been? We've got new
orders have to get going."
"What's going on Sergeant?" asked Robert.
"Seems like the Frogs are trying to get closer to Porto. You two and the rest of the brave lads are going to send 'em packing."
"Where are we going?" Alex asked the sergeant.
"Place down south called Vimiero, seems Junot didn’t learn his lesson last week and he wants another bashing. Get your gear and get back here in 15 minutes, we march in half an hour."
"What's going on Sergeant?" asked Robert.
"Seems like the Frogs are trying to get closer to Porto. You two and the rest of the brave lads are going to send 'em packing."
"Where are we going?" Alex asked the sergeant.
"Place down south called Vimiero, seems Junot didn’t learn his lesson last week and he wants another bashing. Get your gear and get back here in 15 minutes, we march in half an hour."
___________________________
The road to Vimiero was long and hard and two days later, the regiment arrived at the tiny Portuguese village. Robert stood on a small outcrop of rock on the edge of town and watched the massed green jackets of the 95th below. He was proud to wear the jacket and after all that had happened to him over the last few years it was good to know that he had found somewhere he belonged.
Troops were arriving from all over Northern Portugal, he saw the different colours of the different regiments and just a few hundred metres away he saw a Highland regiment and heard the unmistakable sound of bagpipes. These men were some of the toughest in the British army and Robert smiled. He had learned a hard lesson a few years ago when he mocked a Highlander because he was wearing a kilt, to his face. The memory of the punch in the face was still fresh.
He turned his attention to his own little troop. He had been placed in command of a small group of 5 skirmishers. There was Jimmy Smith, who had informed him that he had joined up to escape a prison sentence or even deportation to the colonies because of an assault with a knife. There was Albert Brown, a Yorkshire farmer's son, who was probably the best shot in the entire regiment. Alfred Lincoln had been a soldier for over 30 years and have the scars to prove it. Once. a long time ago, he had struck a pimply faced young officer who had lost half of his men because of his cowardice. That got him 30 lashes and demotion from Sergeant major to Private. Robert both feared and admired the man because of his strength and experience.
The other two men were relatively new recruits and both were very young. Brian was only 16 and looked to small for his uniform. Patrick, was Irish and about 17, he looked hard and fierce, the way a skirmisher of the 95th should. He didnt talk very much, but his eyes were bright and alive with intelligence.
The sun was setting and camps were being made all over the place. He gathered the 5 men around him as Lieutenant Padham-Pryce appeared. Pryce was a newly gazetted officer who had bought his commission with his Norfolk landowner father's money.
"Good evening men, glad everyone has arrived safe and sound. Now tomorrow, we are expecting the French, who are over that way,' he gestured vaguely towards the South-East. "To try to get through to Porto through this valley. The 95th are ordered to harry the flanks of the French and try to work our way, using the high ground on the right, to reach the guns that General Junot has positioned up there. According to Colonel Revere, Sir Arthur is going to lure the French in and surround them. Our job is to locate and capture the guns that we are convinced are up there, and either destroy them or capture them and turn their own guns against the advancing French cavalry and infantry."
"Excuse me sir", Robert asked, "what kind of resistance can we expect?"
"Uncertain corporal, spotters have seen at least 4 guns, each with their own guards. We wont be able to get up there in huge numbers so we will have to go in as small 5 or 6 man squads. Each squad will target one gun and, as I said earlier, destroy or capture it. The plan is to send 6 squads, I will command "A" squad, Corporal you will command "C" squad".
"Pardon me for asking sir" said Alf Lincoln. "Why 6 squads if there are only 4 guns?"
"Excellent question Private. Intelligence has spotted 4 but their may be more. It is absolutely essential that all six squads make their way into the hills quickly and unobserved so that we can find the French guns without attracting to much attention."
The lieutenant, who had become a little tense when Alf had asked his question, seemed to relax a little.
"Get some rest tonight gentlemen. We are heading out at 4 in the morning. Tomorrow there we be glory for you, me and the entire regiment."
"Yes sir, thank you sir" Robert said and he saluted Pryce. Pryce saluted back and headed off in search of the next unit, which Alex commanded.
"Young prick" Alf murmured, referring to Pryce.
"Watch your mouth Alf" Robert said, "He may be a prick but he's our prick and we all have to look after our pricks."
"I thought you had a nice little girl in Porto who wants to take care of your prick corporal?" Jimmy laughed.
Robert blushed slightly, bloody Alex had been sharing tales again. To be fair, the tales were true but he and Alex would have to have a word later.
"I can't help it if all the girls want me boys. I'm too damn gorgeous and my cock is famous from Porto to Lisbon."
The men all laughed at that and they all seemed to relax.
"Paddy" Robert asked, "get a fire going. I'll be back in a minute."
He left the camp and followed the path that Pryce had taken. He knew he would find Alex' unit eventually. As he approached the camp he saw Pryce was still there. He held back until the young officer left and then he walked over to join his friend.
"Good evening Corporal Tremaine." He said in an imitation of Pryce's Oxbridge plummy accent.
"Ah, Corporal Foxworth. May I bid you welcome to our humble pile of shite."
"John" Alex said to one of his men, "get a brew on."
"Come on Robbie, we can talk in my tent."
The two young men had regularly met up over the years. They were the same age, same build and even had the same eye and hair colour. Their first instructor, an evil little corporal named Catton, had called them "The Twins" and poked fun at them for the obvious closeness that they had. They had become the best of friends and regularly shared stories and reminisced about their experiences.
Robert trusted Alex completely and had told him everything about his childhood. Even about his mother's death and the subsequent banishment by his father. He would pour his heart out, usually over a cup of ale or bottle of wine that he shared with his friend. Robert would occasionally catch Alex looking at him in a strange way but Robert didn’t say anything.
On this evening, Alex had a bottle of Port and the two of them each took a swig from the bottle.
"So tomorrow we dance the dance of death again." Alex said.
"Here's to battle and cold steel." Robert replied.
"If I should fall tomorrow my friend, will you write to my father?" Robert asked.
"Yes, you know I will do anything for you my friend. But lets hope that it doesn't come to that. I love you Robert and I don’t know what I would do without you."
Robert once again saw the look in his friends eyes that seemed strange.
"I love you too Alex, like a brother. I better get going, see you in the morning."
Robert got up and left the tent. Alex, who had watched him leave, lay down on his back on his bunk and stared up at nothing in particular.
"Like brothers" he said to the silence and a tear rolled down his cheek.
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