underneath her arm, she walks the bloody tower…'
By 1:45 we had eaten lunch and were at the entrance to the park. Our meeting with Mr. Zeebarth was scheduled for two.
'Let's walk around for a while,' Arrow said. 'It's such a pretty day and pretty place.'
Indeed, we were blessed with nice weather. We strolled along one of the walkways. Arrow and I were being cordial to each other. We hadn't spoken about what if anything had happened between her and Larry. I didn't want to know.
Larry was already eating breakfast the next morning when we went down. He and Arrow spoke casually to each other, but there were certain inflections in their voices. Or was it my imagination?
Young women, perhaps the famous British nannies, pushed babies in prams; older children gamboled on the grass; young adults did things on the grass that Americans generally reserve for a more private place; pensioners walked slowly or sat on the benches. Ducks paddled on the snake-like pond, called the Serpentine.
'If I'm interpreting his directions correctly, we're supposed to meet Mr. Zeebarth over there,' I said, pointing to some benches. 'He'll be wearing a tam and carrying a walking stick.'
'There's a gentleman there already who meets that description,' Arrow said.
I saw him too, sitting on a bench, and wondered if our man had arrived early. We were still some distance from him. As we watched, another man sat down beside him, a younger man, dressed much more casually, with his hair shaved off. The two started talking.
'That must not be him,' Arrow said. 'Those two seem to know each other.'
It looked that way. The conversation grew more heated as we approached and suddenly the younger man shoved the older man, almost knocking him off the bench. Arrow did a sharp intake of breath. I looked around quickly but nobody else seemed to notice.
I ran toward them and called, 'Mr. Zeebarth.' The older man, who was trying to recover his balance, looked at me. I said, 'May I help?'
'Who the bloody hell are you?' asked the younger man, although his 'who' sounded more like 'ooh.'
'I'm a friend of Mr. Zeebarth,' I said, coming up to them.
The younger man stood up. He was shorter than I was, but his body was thicker and more muscular.
He stepped toward me until we were nose to nose and said, 'This is none of your bloody business.'
I stood my ground, despite a strong compulsion to step back. I said, 'We've come to talk to Mr. Zeebarth.'
'Mr. Zeebarth can't see you today,' he said. 'Get along now.'
I was partially prepared when he shoved me, but it happened so fast that I staggered backward. Then he charged me, driving his head into my chest. I fell over onto my back, with him on top. He knelt over me and pummeled me with his fists. I tried to ward off his blows with my arms, mostly unsuccessfully.
Before I had a chance to try anything else, Arrow jumped on his back. They struggled briefly and then he suddenly screeched so loudly that my ears rang. His head jerked sharply to one side. He shook off Arrow, stumbled to his feet and ran away through the park, not looking back.
Arrow watched him for a few seconds and then bent over me and said, 'I don't think he's coming back. Are you all right?'
'I don't know,' I said. I took inventory. 'The back of my head hurts and my cheek hurts.'
'You've got a bruise on your cheek,' Arrow said, inspecting it. 'And your head hit the ground.'
'At least the ground is soft,' I said, and since it had, apparently rained during the night this was true. I sat up and Arrow brushed some dirt off my back.
'Tell me,' I said, 'what did you do to our friend to make him scream like that?'
Arrow grinned. 'I took a course in self defense. The instructor told us about vulnerable parts of the human body; one of them is the ear. First I pulled his ear, but that didn't faze him so then I really yanked it; I think I almost tore it off.'
'Thanks. That makes us even,' I said, taking her offered hand to help me up.
'That was an amazing exhibition,' Mr. Zeebarth said.
That brought me back to the reality of the moment. Not only he but also others must have witnessed the altercation. I looked around; we were getting some curious glances, but since one of the combatants had exited the scene, apparently they thought everything was all right now. At least no Bobbies were approaching.
Mr. Zeebarth had stood up. Arrow said, 'I'm Arrow and this is Karl.'
'Seamus Zeebarth.' He formally shook both our hands. Under his tam his hair was all white and his face was rugged and ruddy. His neat attire included a pressed pair of pants and an ironed shirt.
'Your chin is bleeding,' he said to Arrow.
'He butted me with his head when he tried to get away,' Arrow said, feeling her chin. When she pulled her fingers away they had blood on them. She opened and closed her mouth a few times to see if her jaws worked.
'His head should be registered as a lethal weapon,' I said, ruefully. 'My ribs hurt.' I hadn't noticed them before.
Mr. Zeebarth took a clean white handkerchief out of his pocket.
'I'll get it all bloody,' Arrow said, seeing that he meant to use it on her chin.
'It's the least I can do. Hold still.' He pressed it to the cut and said, 'Hold it there until the bleeding stops.'
Arrow obediently placed one hand on the handkerchief and held it in place.
'I'm sorry about what happened,' Mr. Zeebarth said, 'but I must confess that I never saw that man before in my life. He came up to me and told me he knew I was meeting some people. He said they-you-were dangerous and not to talk to you. Since he was not exactly what I would call a savory character I was skeptical and I started asking him questions. He became belligerent and shoved me. That's when you came up.' He indicated me. 'I thank you for that but I'm sorry you had to suffer for it. And you,' he said, turning to Arrow, 'are about the bravest lass I've ever seen.'
Arrow acknowledged the compliment with a smile and a curtsy.
'We may be able to shed some light on what happened,' I said. 'Do you want to talk here or should we go somewhere else?'
'As much as I like the park, I would be just as happy to leave it for the moment. I know a nice pub not far from here where we can drink a pint to calm our nerves.'
'We don't get into fights on a daily basis,' Arrow said, holding the handle of a beer mug. Her chin had clotted, leaving a black scab.
The pub we were in was almost deserted, except for a few darts players. Nobody was close enough to hear us talk. Mr. Zeebarth had just expressed admiration for our fighting ability-or at least Arrow's fighting ability.
'Lately, I'm afraid we've had more than our share of fights,' I said. And then to change the subject, 'We were just in northern Scotland.' Mr. Zeebarth's eyes showed interest. 'Do you remember a Michael McTavish from your youth?'
'Aye, that I do. He was one of me mates, but I didn't like him much. Sneaky bloke.'
'He knew we were coming here to see you. It's a complicated story, but I think he may have been involved in recruiting the hooligan who attacked us.' In fact, I was sure of it. I had called McTavish from Glasgow after I had talked to Zeebarth-at McTavish’s request. His pretence was that he was trying to locate another of Buchanan’s mates for us to talk to. When I told him on the phone that I had reached Zeebarth, he wormed the information as to the time and place of our meeting out of me. I was going to have to learn to be more discreet.
'It would not surprise me. We never did see eye to eye.'
'We'll tell you as much as we know.' He had an honest face and I was inclined to tell him everything. 'But first, how did somebody from Scotland get a name like Zeebarth.'
His laugh was engaging. 'My ancestry is all mixed up, but at least there is enough Scottish in it for me to get along there.'
'I know how you feel,' Arrow said. 'I have a mixed-up ancestry too.'
