In the Land of the Long White Cloud

frame, though he was still shorter than James. He had also been shorter than Paul, which had bothered him his entire adolescence. But now hecarried the title of chief. He need not be ashamed of anything. Not even for Paul’s killing.
    “Inform Gwyneira Warden that we are ready to negotiate,” he said coolly. “We entertain no doubts that her agreements will be kept. Mrs. Warden has been the voice of the Wardens since the last full moon. Paul Warden is dead.”

    “It wasn’t Tonga,” James said, holding Gwyneira in his arms as he told her of her son’s death. Gwyneira heaved dry sobs. She found no tears and hated herself for that. Paul had been her son, but she could not cry for him.
    Kiri silently set a pot of tea on the table for them. She and Moana had accompanied James to the house. As though it had been agreed upon, the women took possession once more of the kitchen and office rooms.
    “You can’t blame Tonga for it, or the negotiations might break down. I think he blames himself. As I understand it, one of his warriors lost control of himself. He saw the dignity of his chief under threat and stabbed Paul—from behind. Tonga must be ashamed to his core. The murderer did not even belong to Tonga’s tribe. So Tonga had no control over him. That’s why he wasn’t punished. Tonga only sent him back to his people. If you want, you could have the incident investigated by the police. Tonga and Marama were witnesses and wouldn’t lie in court.” James poured tea and a good deal of sugar into a cup and tried to hand it to Gwyneira.
    Gwyneira shook her head. “What would that change?” she asked quietly. “The warrior saw his people’s honor threatened; Paul saw his wife threatened; Howard felt insulted…one thing leads to another, and it never ends. I’m so sick of it all, James.” Her whole body trembled. “And I would have liked so much to tell Paul that I loved him.”
    James pulled her close. “He would have known you were lying,” he said softly. “You can’t change that, Gwyn.”
    She nodded. “I’ll have to live with it, and I’ll hate myself for it every day. Love is so strange. I couldn’t feel anything for Paul, but Marama loved him…as naturally as she breathed air, and unconditionally, no matter what Paul did. She was his wife, you say? Where is she? Did Tonga do something to her?”
    “I take it that she was officially Paul’s wife. Tonga and Paul fought over her in any case. So for Paul, it was serious. Where she is now, I don’t know. I don’t know the Maori’s mourning ceremonies. Probably she buried Paul and then withdrew. We’ll have to ask Tonga or Kiri.”
    Gwyneira squared herself. Her hands were still trembling, but she managed now to warm her fingers on the teacup and to raise the cup to her mouth. “We need to find out. I won’t let anything happen to the girl as well. I need to go to the village as soon as possible. I want to put all of this behind me. But not today. Not tonight. I want tonight to myself. I want to be alone, James…I need to think. Tomorrow, after sunrise, I’ll talk to Tonga. I’m going to fight for Kiward Station, James. Tonga isn’t going to get it!”
    James took Gwyneira in his arms and carried her gently to her bedroom. “Whatever you want, Gwyn. But I won’t leave you alone. I’ll be there, tonight as well. You can cry or talk about Paul…there must also be some good memories. You must have been proud of him occasionally. Tell me about him and Marama. Or just let me hold you. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. But you’re not alone.”

    Gwyneira wore a black dress when she met Tonga on the lakeshore between Kiward Station and the Maori village. Negotiations were not carried out in closed rooms. Gods, spirits, and the ancestors would act as witnesses. Behind Gwyneira stood James, Andy, Poker, Kiri, and Moana. Twenty warriors looked on grimly behind Tonga.
    After a few formal greetings had been exchanged, the chief expressed his regret over the death of her son—in measured words and perfect English. Gwyneira could hear the traces of Helen’s schooling. Tonga was a strange mixture of savage and gentleman.
    “The governor has decided,” Gwyneira said in a steady voice, “that the sale of the land now called Kiward Station did not correspond in every respect to the policies outlined in the Treaty of Waitangi.”
    Tonga laughed mockingly. “Not in every respect? The sale was against the law!”
    Gwyneira