The Fifth Brother – Installment 4
By the time he opened the door to the boarding house, he was feeling better. He walked into a roar of laughter and voices. The place was full of men, and a few women. The Valhalla was a popular place with the locals, apparently. Ezekiel figured that was a good thing, he could use the distraction for a while. He waded into the crowd to see what everyone was up to.
At most of the tables, men sat, talking and laughing. A few had cards out and were playing while smoking cigars and drinking. Ezekiel moved farther back in the room where he saw some men around a table cheering and groaning.
It was some game of chance involving dice. The men were laying down bets and taking turns rolling the dice. After each roll, there were usually one or two winners and four of five losers, by looking at the way money moved around. The rest of the crowd seemed to be enjoying themselves by watching, drinking and commenting on the play. Ezekiel had squeezed his way to the front so he could see. Since he was short, no one seemed to mind. He still couldn’t make out what made a winner or a loser, but it was fun watching the reaction of the players and the good-natured joking of the crowd. He felt himself relaxing and allowing the recent event in the alley to slide into the background of his consciousness.
One of the players just to Ezekiel’s left was becoming a favorite of the crowd. He was unusually large and hulking with a massive beard and bald head. He had lost the last three rounds and was allowing his anger to show, much to the enjoyment of the onlookers. He lost again, his bald head turning red with anger.
“Easy Samuel,” someone called. “You don’t want someone to pop that angry looking boil sprouting from your shoulders now do ya?”
The crowd laughed, which did not appear to help the man’s temperament in the least. Another roll and another loss. The man, Samuel, pounded his fist on the table, making the money and the dice jump.
“I think that counts as your roll there Samuel! What? Another pair? Looks like you need to pay up!”
Again, the crowd rolled with laughter.
Samuel grabbed his stein and turned on his heel, slamming his drink into Ezekiel’s chest. Ezekiel had been busy laughing with the crowd and had not noticed the big man’s sudden movement till his chest was covered in sour smelling ale. His laughter was too hard to stop, plus he was already muddy from outside. Ezekiel felt is was all part of the price to pay for being in such a crowded area with so much fun going on.
“You owe me a bloody drink, you laughing little turd!”
The smile froze on Ezekiel’s face. He looked into the bloodshot eyes of the large bearded man. Samuel watched the shorter man’s eyes grow cold and hard.
“I said, fill this up before I break your bloody neck, runt!”
The tension had caused the immediate onlookers to grow quiet, while the rest of the room ignored the small drama by the dice table.
Samuel shoved his stein towards Ezekiel’s chest. Ezekiel stepped to the side and forward towards the big man, giving a small jump to deliver a jab to the man’s face. It was an unexpected move, and the big man did nothing to avoid it, paying for it with a flattened nose and blood pouring into his beard as he stumbled back.
It had happened quick. Ezekiel hadn’t even thought about it, just reacted. He felt a twinge of guilt. He had never backed down from a fight, and after learning to box, he had rarely lost. As a man who was supposed to preach peace and “turning the other cheek,” he had a difficult time following those words. As the man called Samuel tottered backward, Ezekiel’s mind raced on what he should do. Apologize quickly and buy the man the drink? Run out so as to avoid more fighting? What would a real Christian do?
“I’ll wipe the floor with you, you little runt! I’ll stomp you flat and wipe my arse with ya!”
Ezekiel knew that pride was a sin. However, it was a sin he had little control over right now. As the mountain of a man charged back at him, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to keep from killing the poor guy.
Ezekiel ducked under the swing aimed at his head and moved to the side, landing short, powerful blows to Samuels lower ribs. The big man’s momentum kept his body turning till Ezekiel was behind him, where the smaller man used the full power of his strikes to lay into the man’s lower back, striking at the kidneys with crippling precision. Samuel roared in pain as his knees buckled, dropping him to one knee. Ezekiel continued his circumnavigation of the big man, appearing on his other side.
Samuel’s head was down, his arms pinned to his sides, sure that a rib or two were already broken. He could barely see as the pain from the shots to his kidney’s had blurred his vision.
Ezekiel Stone aimed a shot at the point just forward of the big man’s ear, where his lower jaw attached to his skull. A satisfying ‘snap’ came from inside the bearded head. It was loud enough to make the silent crowd gasp. Ezekiel continued moving till he was in front of the kneeling giant. Samuel’s mouth hung at an odd angle, his jaw broken. Ezekiel saw the fear in the man’s face, but no compassion was felt as he delivered a short, one-two punch combination that sent the big man’s eyes rolling into his skull, as Ezekiel backpedaled to avoid the bloody head and body as it fell forward.
The crowd stayed silent for a heartbeat, staring at the large man laying in his own blood. Then the whole place exploded in cheers and huzzahs. Ezekiel felt hands patting his back and shaking his hands. He was pulled and pushed to the bar where drinks were pushed on him.
“Amazing! You were a regular David against that Goliath!”
“He was a sour bloke anyway. Always the bully around here. Good on ya!”
Ezekiel knew he should feel guilty for what he had done. Repent for letting his temper have the best of him. But with so many bodies celebrating what he had done, he found it difficult to be remorseful. He reluctantly accepted a drink. The were just trying to be nice after all. That drink was replaced by another before he was finished and folks kept on coming by to shake his hand and buy him a drink. He told the older gentleman behind the bar that he couldn’t accept any more drinks. Regardless, the drink he had kept being replaced till he didn’t know if he had drank two or six. It wasn’t long before that seemed to be just fine too.
_________
Ezekiel slowly opened his eyes. His room was dim. The early morning light just now pushing back the darkness. He was in his bed but did not recall how he got there. Opening his eyes made his head hurt. He closed them, but the pain stayed. He rolled onto his side and opened his eyes again. He was sure he could do this, just sit up and get started. He swung his legs off the bed and onto the floor, sitting himself upright. The room lurched, and his stomach tightened up.
He remembered the fight and some of the drinks. He had no idea how he had gotten to his room. Apparently, whoever had helped him up had considered the job done when he had been dumped onto his bed. Ezekiel was taking stock of the fact that he was still fully dressed, including shoes, from the night before. Dried mud covered his bed where is had fallen off of his clothes.
He got up and made his way to the wash basin with the looking glass above it. He was a mess. Hair sticking in all directions, face with mud and blood on it. He got to work cleaning his face and making his hair lay down. He could see the bed behind him in the mirror. Even though it was filthy, it looked inviting. He felt so tired and dizzy, and oh, how his head hurt.
Instead, he headed outside. It was not quite dawn yet. His normal time of rising. He had a strict morning ritual of exercise that he was not going to skip. He tried to perform his workout outside whenever possible. The fresh air a good way to start the day.
He found an open lot next to the Valhalla and began his routine. It hurt. During his deep knee bends, he had to stop and run to some bushes to vomit. Then he walked back over and started over from the beginning, penance for needing to take the break. He pushed through the rest of the routine, finishing every exercise, even if it was done slowly. The sweat that broke out on his face initially had felt sickly, like illness coating his skin. By the end, he was sweating freely, and though he could still smell the alcohol leaking from his pores, the sweat seemed to run clearer and purer.
He walked back towards the Valhalla, glad that so few people were up at this hour. He was embarrassed and ashamed. The pain of waking up, followed by the struggle of sticking to his routine had been a distraction from the cloud that hung over him. He had lost his temper. He had let his pride push him to hurt a man. He had been unrepentant and even accepted the congratulations of the crowd. He hadn’t done anything to help the beaten fellow. Then as a final sign of his weak character, he had allowed himself to get black-out drunk. His order allowed the drinking of alcohol, but drunkenness was clearly forbidden. Many drank more than they should, on occasion, but as long as it wasn’t habitual, a blind eye was usually turned. To be so drunk that one couldn’t remember how they got to bed was outrageous. Ezekiel saw himself as a man with a firm will and honest morality and last night he had let himself down horribly.
Back in his room, he cleaned up. Put on clean clothes and stripped his bed. He then went to the window and prayed for forgiveness, confessing his shame and guilt. He was embarrassed to even mention it to the God that had seen it all, but even this act was a display of willpower and discipline.
With clean clothes and scrubbed face he made his way downstairs and into the lobby. He just hoped that most of the crowd had ended up in the same state as he and would not remember much of his involvement in the whole ordeal.
“Not much of a drinker are you, Mr. Stone.”
Maggie Woolrey was sweeping up some glass from in front of the bar. Ezekiel didn’t know what to say. He looked down at his hands, looking for some form of answer. The last person he wanted to know about last night was the first one to hold it up to him this morining.
“I can tell by your red face you are not proud of it. Forget it, Mr. Stone. It is in the past, and you can’t take it back. From what I hear you were a fairly pleasant drunk, which was a relief to everyone, after what they had seen you do to Samuel.”
“I am dreadfully sorry, Ms. Woolrey. I don’t usually partake,” he looked around the large room. Many of the chairs were knocked over, and several areas had broken glass as well as a wide variety of liquids on the floor and tables. “I really made a mess of it all, didn’t I?”
“This? Oh, no, Mr. Stone, this wasn’t your doing. There is a new blood stain for our wood floor which was your doing, but the rest of this, no. From what I was told, you had a steady stream of drinks pushed on you and in about a half an hour you were asleep at the bar. It was a little while before anyone noticed and when they did they rushed you to your room so they could come back down as the get-together was just getting going at that time.”
Ezekiel stood there looking at Maggie. His face reflected the relief he felt, though it was still garnished with a heavy dose of shame. Even a bit of embarrassment. He hadn’t even lasted an hour? Fell asleep at the bar? He had no words to say, though he felt like he should say something. Instead, he just smiled sheepishly at the woman with the broom.
“Go sit down at one of the tables by a window. Uncle will be in soon, and you two can have breakfast together. He will be bringing some things for you.”
Mr. Stone had just sat down when one of the staff brought out a two hot cups of coffee. As he was placing them down, Tobia Ledsome came bustling through the door, his arms full of rolled up charts.
“An eventful evening Mr. Stone? Yes, yes heard all about it. Glad to see you are up and about so early. Feeling fine? I must say good on you, sir,” he stuck out his hand, and a few rolls of paper fell to the floor. Ezekiel stood and took the hand. “You showed them all, didn’t you? Just because a man is short in stature doesn’t mean he isn’t a force to be reckoned with!”
Tobia Ledsome’s words had begun to come out quicker, and higher pitched as he talked until his final “reckoned with!” ended with as a high pitched squeak. He had not released Ezekiel Stone’s hand the entire time and now they both stood staring awkwardly at each other.
“Right. Uh, people like to say ‘it isn’t the size of the dog in the fight, it is the size of the fight in the dog’ you know,” Ezekiel gave the clasped hand two distinct pumps and then pulled it back.
“Well now,” said Tobia as he tried to pick up one of the rolled charts, dropping two more in the process. “That Samuel, he was one large hound! What a beast!” He picked up two charts and a third fell. “The ‘fight’ in you, to use your phrase, must be a giant, sir, a giant!”
With that he waddled over to a nearby table with what charts he had and deposited them there. He scurried back and grabbed those that still rolled around on the floor. Ezekiel helped him pick them up and added to the pile on the table. He opened one and saw that it was a hand drawn map.
“What are these, Mr. Ledsome?”
“Maps! Some I drew from the descriptions given by other explorers, some I purchased. The don’t all agree, you see. I figured we could compare them and then split the difference and that should work. Don’t you think?”
“Work for what? Forgive me, I seem to be a bit slow this morning.”
“The widow! We can figure out how to get you to the widow Clark’s place. Or at least close to it. Maybe. At least the general area, of some landmark, like a lake or mountain, around which she was perhaps staying.”
“We don’t know where she is? I thought she had been out there for years, in the same outpost she had made with her husband.”
“Yes, yes. She is, don’t worry. It shouldn’t be difficult. It is just that people don’t usually go out looking for her. People come into town who have seen her. Once in a while some Maori will come and buy supplies for her. People just don’t usually start here to go there. They start there and come here. You see? Don’t worry, we will have some breakfast and go over my maps. We will get you a great plan to get you there. Don’t you worry.”
Ezekiel wasn’t sure if it was the hangover, the lingering guilt over last night or the dark words of the woman in the alley, but for the first time since arriving in Dunedin, he did begin to worry.