A Thousand Blows

The winner is Hezekiah Moscow!

When I look at you, I see an image of a man that I loved and lost.

The past is done.

Not for everyone.

You've been drunk for months.

I need you back as the man you once was.

You've been on the cobbles for, what, twelve months, more.

- I stopped counting. - I have a proposition for you.

All you have to do, Hezekiah Moscow, is the thing you were born to do.

I have a plan.

And if you're in, then and only then will I tell you everything.

I've had an idea.

About you and me.

I need you to get below, Mary.

For Alec.

One last chain.

Then I can go home, Brother.

Go back.

Hezekiah, go home.

You heard him. Get in a line.

Yes, sir.

Whoa.

Go on.

Edward John Eyre.

Who are you?

I read that the Queen reward you for your contributions to the Empire.

Did that open an old wound?

That wound never heal.

You know, I could place you as soon as you spoke.

Many years I spent on that island.

The voices of each region are s--

What do you remember of Morant Bay?

I remember a great storm,

followed by the most punishing sun I've ever felt on my skin.

Memory's a funny thing, Mr Eyre.

History remembers your words more than our screams.

But not at this altar.

Not before God.

I remember duty.

And chaos.

We were slipping our grasp on civilisation.

So, I used a language that people never forget,

force.

Shall I tell you what I recall?

Stories of a man.

A white man, who governed my country.

Stories of my people rising up against sickness and poverty.

And this same man...

Edward John Eyre...

sending militia with rifles, when all we had was cutlass and rock.

First time I ever saw fear in my father's eye.

He begged me to run, and I did.

Bullets raining behind me.

And when I reached home, my mother was gone.

Shot down and swallowed by flame.

I was a child watching my world burn.

My name is Hezekiah Moscow...

and the world may not remember, but I do.

And today you will answer to God.

Everything I have done, I have done in service to Him.

Is that the lie you tell yourself?

I've seen this moment, many times in my dreams.

God, please.

But you are just a man.

A man who can't escape his cruel deeds.

Let the screams haunt you,

and the spirits of the innocent grab you at night.

Until the day you are called.

God won't be there at your end.

Esme. Esme, where are those barrels?

...business with him in this borough, so we'll leave when we've spoken to Sugar.

Just come back tomorrow, or the day after.

Don't you give me that shit.

I'm asking nicely and I've been polite.

Sugar is busy at the moment.

Oh, look what the cat dragged in.

At fucking last, the proprietor.

I-I told 'em there's been a change of hands,

but they didn't wanna hear it.

Well, I assume the Jeremy family have come up East to wish us well.

My condolences about Indigo.

You know what, that's just it.

We're here because there are a lot of rumours...

I told you, we don't care about rumours,

so take your investigation back to Elephant and fucking Castle.

We're here because there were a lot of rumours,

just repeating myself for Sugar's benefit.

Can any of you Elephant boys read?

'Cause if you can, you'd see it's my brother's name above the door.

So, that's enough.

Our brother's funeral was maybe two miles long?

Everybody came.

But you didn't. None of you from round here.

Well, I was busy, and he was drunk.

What about the man who did the killing?

We don't know.

That's the funny thing, that.

Because after our brother's murder, whispers varied.

But...

...one detail stayed the same,

that when the killer pulled out his gun, an inch of his wrist was uncovered,

and they saw his skin.

His skin was black.

There are Black men living all over the docks.

We're interested in the man who lives in the Wapping Wall.

- The fighter. - Who? Hezekiah?

I'll need to hear it again.

Hezekiah Moscow?

I can't be sure.

Oh, come on, fuck off.

What kind of man would hide behind their sister's veil?

You'll respect her gifts, Treacle.

Behold the mighty Elephant Boys, eh, reduced to a travelling mystery show.

My sister is touched by the angels.

She hears a name and the truth follows. Or is it the truth you're afraid of?

D'you know what, I'm starting to run out of patience.

- Just fuck off! - Treacle...

I see a raven... ...and a rose.

What does that mean?

Fuck knows.

But I get a chill with it.

Joanna, can you séance past lives?

I'd like to speak to my old mama.

Is she yours now, Treacle?

If so, she's overdue for some edu-fucking-cation.

Yeah, fuck you, Bull.

You're not Indigo, you never will be.

That's right, I'm not Indigo, never was, never fucking will be.

Right, I'm giving youse about a minute.

- Or what? - There's a feather.

- The show's over! - It's close.

A conversation with the fighter.

That's all I ask.

My brother wants you gone.

That's harbouring, Sugar.

I'll give you two days.

This is your jurisdiction.

You fucking talk to me.

Why don't you go and fuck yourself?

We've always towed the line with them.

That was with Indigo, but they're just a fucking comedy act.

Well, you may notice that I ain't laughing.

Come on, get this tidied up.

Good afternoon, comrade.

I got a message. You wanted to see me?

It feels as if everyone in this place has already lost their battles.

I've been sitting here and thinking.

Why do I sense danger?

Come on, I've been focused on returning the fight to France.

But the people here need a victory now, and we have the means to provide it.

Nitroglycerin.

Take these shells.

When you grind them up fine enough, you can combine them with nitroglycerin,

turning the content of that crate into dynamite.

The poor man's food, is also his saviour.

Bon, then we begin.

This way.

A Miss Polly Crane, here for the afternoon sitting.

Mr Leighton.

Um...

Excuse me, I think there must be some confusion, uh, Miss Crane.

Today's sitting is with...

Oh, forgive me.

There's the problem.

No joy in painting a woman so easy to forget.

Huîtres à la chambre right from the market.

Have a seat.

So... ...where have you been?

On a journey to find truth.

Well, some would say there are many truth.

Did the one you find bring you peace?

I don't know.

When the river withdraws, it leaves many things behind.

But this, my friend. This, is the working man's jewel.

Humour me.

Enticed by the unknown.

It seems our paths were meant to cross, Hezekiah.

Mmm.

Is this a pastime of yours, Miss Crane?

Barging into places unannounced and using charm to get your way?

You could say that.

I can see why you might be successful.

Enchanting as you are, I shan't paint you.

You came in here with a very clear plan, and choice matters to an artist, Polly.

I have to choose you.

Did she wait to be chosen?

She did.

Perhaps that's why she isn't smiling.

I've met people, from all walks of life,

many of whom claim to have a passion for the arts.

Most of it's about feeling superior.

When I look at an image, I focus on the only thing that matters.

And what might that be?

The story.

The questions that linger in your head as you walk away.

"Why this moment?

Why this person?

Why should I remember you?"

I have a story worth telling, Sir Frederic,

and if you paint me, I think you will agree.