StoweAway Chapter 1

Of Considerable Importance

            There was a series of events that led to Lord Isaac’s downfall which I believe are of the greatest importance.

Elias Isaac was a man of incredible wealth and power. He was elected as the Supreme Judge of London in the primitive seventeenth century, and climbed up the political ladder until he was at his climax. Lord Isaac cared for the successful and thriving nation of the wealthy. The prosperous were invited to join in Parliament and could pass laws and decrees, which would aid the rich.

 The poor roamed the streets as pitiful beggars. They were outcasts of the rich, like a wounded lamb in the midst of healthy sheep. The needy would rarely find shelter from the cold, grueling days. They would work for little money, performing tasks that the rich found disgusting. The poor had no other choice than surrender to their own fate. The royalty surrounded them, giving up nothing but an insignificant glance downward onto the streets, where the poor were upon their knees, holding out their hands and begging.

No one did anything to help them. No one tried to stop the horrible things that the English were doing to their surplus population. No one cared. The poor would live out their lives and die. It was the way of life. No one tried to help them.

            There was a knock on the Prime Minister’s door, and he clearly spoke, “Come in.” The Prime Minister was an old man; at the age of fifty-two, he became the Minister and fourteen years had passed since then. And for the first time in those fourteen years, he felt afraid of what was going to happen. He firmly grasped one of the handles to his drawers on his desk, making his knuckles turn a ghastly white. He breathed deeply through his nostrils, trying to calm himself down.

            A man in an overcoat and a top hat stepped through the doorway and closed the door. His beady eyes examined the entire room from the depths of his dark face. The man cautiously looked around the room until his eyes rested upon the Prime Minister.

            The politician gripped tighter, holding onto the small marble handle that was attached to his desk.

            "G'day, Prime Minister," the visitor said quietly. "It is an honor to be sent for." He took one step forward as the Minister seated himself in the high-back leather char, fully alert.

            “I am sure that the honor is mine, Judge Isaac,” the Prime Minister replied, hoping that some kind of a warm greeting had made its way out of his lies.

            Judge Isaac smiled and nodded. He took a step onto the decorated red carpet that lined the Prime Minister’s office.

            “My, my. This is a spectacular room, sir. Oh.” Isaac stopped as his eyes fell to the wide window behind the Minister. The red curtains were drawn, revealing a marvelous view of London.

            Isaac took another step towards the window. The Minister gripped, if possible, even tighter. He could feel the ridges of the round handle digging into his skin.

            “May I?” Isaac asked, his eyes yearning to take a long look at the glorious view. The Minister’s bottom lip trembled he and said, “Judge Isaac, may we get to the topic?”

            “Ah, yes, of course, Prime Minister,” Isaac said, taking a step back from the window. His eyes fixated on the Minister his brown eyes cutting into him, as if trying to tear his soul apart. He took another step back and took his eyes off of the politician. “May I?” he pointed to a brown leather chair sitting just mere feet of the desk.

            “Of course,” the Minister said, his grip tensioning. He stared at the man in anger, wishing that this conversation would be over forever.

            It had been long known that the Prime Minister of England had a controversial disagreement with Judge Isaac. The Judge wished that the surplus population should be evacuated from the country and sold as slaves. Isaac would then receive the income and he would distribute the earnings to the rich.

            In other words: out with the beggars, in with more money.

            Of course, there were other topics that are too numerous to name, and the Prime Minister disapproved of all of them. Judge Isaac had set up a meeting so that they could ‘discuss’ their differeances and make a treaty of some sort. Easier said than done, the Prime Minister thought as Judge Isaac sat down and leaned back into the chair.

            “Judge Isaac, I see no reason for us to be meeting here tonight. I have values that I will not allow to be tampered with!” the Prime Minister began, but Judge Isaac cut him off with raising his hand.

            “Yes, yes, I know of your values that you speak of. You are against slavery, am I correct?” Isaac asked, lifting one eyebrow. The Prime Minister gripped his marble handle once again.

            “Yes. Indeed, I am against it. Slavery is wrong. We are all human beings, therefore we all have a chance to live as –”

            “Are you telling me that you enjoy having poverty amidst in your land? Are you saying that you enjoy seeing beggars upon the street, kneeling there like dirty scum?” Isaac commanded, rising from his seat. The Prime Minister shook his head and started to speak, but got cut off again.

            “Then why do you insist that you litter our streets with these… these… abominable rats?”

            “I command you to stop!” the Prime Minister shouted, his voice reverberating off of the walls. But Judge Isaac did not stop.

            “Then why do you not comply with me and get rid of the whole lot?” Isaac shouted, throwing his hands up into the air. His face was turning bright red and his small beard was rustled.

            “Because I believe that every human being has a right to live his life in any manner of which he chooses!” the Prime Minister roared, standing up from his leather chair also. He spoke as if in spurts, making his words utterly powerful. He continued, “That is why I insist that they remain. We can still help them. We can still help them. Judge Isaac, if we put our differences behind us, we rid of poverty forevermore.”

            Isaac stared at the man straight in the face. His face was distorted into a strange frown and his bushy eyebrows were burrowed into his head.

            “You – are – not – listening to me!” he roared. Suddenly, Isaac growled and his hand dove into his black coat pocket.

            The Prime Minister gasped as he saw a long knife, glinting in the light of the room. Isaac grinned madly and held the dagger pointed down.

            “Judge Isaac, I command you to put that weapon away. You will be escorted out and never to return again. Do you hear?” the Prime Minister said, his eyes glued to the knife.

            “I gave you a chance, Minister. And you denied me. I gave you a chance and you denied me!” Isaac roared and he swore loudly. With terrifying speed, he crashed the knife down on top of the desk, puncturing important papers and bills.

            The Minister was so surprised by this sudden attack that he yelped and leaned back into his chair. The chair rocked on two leg and finally fell backwards, sending the Prime Minister crashing to the floor and, subsequently, through the huge window behind him.

            And Judge Isaac hadn’t touched a single hair on the dead man’s head.