Chapter 21

The Queen's English

To ease the strain from fencing practice, Max rolled his shoulders, as he walked down the polished wooden floor of a long corridor. Possibly, metaphorically, the longest corridor in the University, for it ended at the Chancellor's own office. With disapproving looks and flowing black cloaks professors swept past him. Max ignored them all. Right to that very last door he went, not with confidence, but nor with fear.

Earlier, after his first class of the day, he had arrived at The Canteen to find in his locker an envelope with his name written on it in black ink. Seeing it his heart had at once raced with equal measures of hope and dread, for surely Harriet had replied to his letter. But no, within the crisp paper there was a note from the chancellor's secretary, summoning Max to Sir Hugh's office.

Max pushed open the door and found Wang and Wiremu sitting in the waiting room. They both turned to look at him with worried eyes.

"Maximilian," announced the secretary. "Please take a seat. The Chancellor will be with you momentarily." Max took a seat.

"Don't worry," he mumbled to his two friends.

"About what?" asked Wiremu.

"No idea. But that in itself offers a little reassurance. Nothing to hide."

And so they waited for a few minutes, Max slumped in his chair, until a small bell rang, and the secretary rose to disappear into Sir Hugh's office, reappearing again to hold the door open and say;

"This way please."

The three friends did as they were bid.

The Chancellor, Sir Hugh Rankine-Easterfield, sat behind his desk, fingers interlinked in front of his belly, and round glasses perching well forward on his nose.

"Good afternoon gentlemen," he said, studying them closely.

"Good afternoon sir," the newcomers intoned.

"Take a seat please," said The Chancellor, waving his hand at the chairs in front of his desk. They did as they were told, and Sir Hugh fixed them with a long hard stare before saying;

"I shall cut straight to the chase. I'm hearing your names too often for my liking. Of course, it isn't helped by the fact that you have peculiar names, the three of you. But naturally it is not the names themselves that are troubling me, but the tales attached to them. I am only now, despite Hapimana and Professor Evans' reassurances, beginning to believe that no lasting harm has been caused by your... how should I say? Interactions with our Northern guests on the very first day of the year. But that little episode has been quickly eclipsed by another..." The Chancellor paused, possibility for effect, before continuing. "A brawl!" he barked suddenly. "A brawl in which your actions resulted in one student being temporarily paralysed!" Sir Hugh calmed himself, before shaking his head gravely. "I realise that for two of you, being in a minority here, may cause you to feel a need to prove yourselves. But let me remind you that the only prowess that will gain you any lasting respect at Victoria is an academic one. Something that your tutors inform me you are all capable of."

"Yes sir, Sorry sir," said Wang and Wiremu together, very circumspect. They had the most to lose. Max couldn't believe what he was hearing. He didn't know whether to laugh, cry or rage. He just sat and stared blankly at the Chancellor as he spoke on.

"Let this little discussion then serve as the sternest of warnings and let no more be said. And let all your future activities at Victoria remain well within the curriculum."

"Yes sir."

Max could feel anger bubbling inside him, his innards twisting, his face flushing hot... he worked his stiff jaw open and closed a couple of times. Sir Hugh's mind was clearly made up on the details and the motivations of those involved in the ‘brawl’. Max glared at him from behind barely open eyes. Apparently it was all so clear; Wang had picked a fight because he was the only Chinese boy at Victoria and wanted to prove himself. Max swallowed his pride, he knew better than to argue the finer points, there was nothing to be gained in trying to suggest that the opposite was in fact true and that it was because of Wang's minority status that he had been singled out for the beating that never came.

And they say history is written by the victor.

"Very good then," concluded Sir Hugh. "Let's have you away." Wang and Wiremu rose to their feet at once, but Max lingered in his seat, to stand a long moment later with his chin held high. Sir Hugh had shown himself as prejudiced as Ginger Rumbold himself, Max would not further dignify the man by jumping to his commands. They made to leave. "A moment more Maximilian, if you would. Shut the door."

Max closed the door behind his two friends and returned stiffly to his seat.

"Yes?"

Sir Hugh sighed.

"I'm not really sure," he began. "But let me say it this way..." The Chancellor leant forward in a friendly manner, clearly intent on having a fatherly chat with Max. "...I would not like to see your promising academic career suffer because of... of your choice of acquaintances."

Max only just managed to stop his jaw from dropping open in surprise. For a moment he was stupefied, then as he fully comprehended what was being said, the anger rushed back. He imagined himself standing up again and walking out without saying a word. Then he imagined himself speaking rashly; Sir that is beneath you! But maybe it wasn't? How dare you!? But he had, and maybe he didn't think it that daring. And it wasn’t, the Chancellor was just another man of his time, stating what most others in his place would.

Max maintained eye contact with the chancellor.

"I see," he said flatly.

Sir Hugh, mistakenly reading acceptance in Max of his words, relaxed back in his chair.

"Some interesting choices," he said glancing up at the wall clock, before adding; "For the son of a university professor."

Max raised an eye brow.

"Choices? More than one?"

"Yes," confirmed Sir Hugh, rearranging some papers on the desk before him. "I hear that you have also upset Gilbert Lavisham."

Max didn't react outwardly, although his blood suddenly pumped hot and loud in his ears. With elbows resting on the arms of his chair, hands together before his chin and fingers interlinked, Max watched The Chancellor.

"How so?" he asked finally, keeping his voice level, and hinting at disinterest.

Surely a train ride with Harriet Leigh is not Chancellor's Office material.

Obviously Lavisham would be upset by that. But Max had no idea if Gilbert had even known that Harriet and he had been together on the train Wednesday morning. Sir Hugh didn't leave him guessing long.

"Something about a fight within Captain von Tempsky's fencing class."

That almost surprised Max as much as hearing Sir Hugh speak Gilbert's name.

"We had a supervised exhibition match." Max worked hard to hide the incredulity from his voice.

"Still…"

"Which Lavisham won."

"Still…"

"It appears then that Gilbert Lavisham is easily upset!"

"That may well be," observed the Chancellor, then throwing up his hands he barked; "But he is nothing on his father!"

"Meaning?"

"Max, good God! You are the son of a university professor. Your father is the Professor of Ornithology!"

Max was well confused now.

"Sir?"

Sir Hugh sighed and sat back once more.

"Jeremiah Lavisham is a powerful and well-respected citizen of the Dominion. And member..." The Chancellor linked his fingers on the desk before him. "...of the board of governors of this university."

"I see," said Max slowly.

Did Sir Hugh just indirectly threaten his father's employment?

"Of course you will not be pleased to hear how things stand. But at least do yourself the favour of understanding, that for now, this is the way of it." This last was said with some finality.

"Thank you sir," said Max slowly, hardly believing... struggling for some kind of reliable grip on what was happening… he needed the interview to be over. His sleepless nights were catching up on him, he felt so tired, but also dirty, tarnished... he needed to get away. He felt robbed of everything.

"I'm sure you'll do well here," ventured Sir Hugh, in a conciliatory tone. "We shall just put this down as a bit of a rough start, shall we? Very good. We shall say good day then."

As Max rose from his chair he made it clear that he was studying the University Coat of Arms affixed to the wall behind the Chancellor. Obviously he was reading, to himself, the words written there.

'Sapientia magis auro desideranda - Wisdom is more to be desired than gold.'

"Yes, good day," Max replied, bringing his eyes level with the chancellor's. "But a better day will be that of Gilbert Lavisham's graduation. May it come with speed. Maybe then Victoria can return to the governance of her charter, and not her politicians."

Sir Hugh puffed up his cheeks with impotent frustration. But Max was gone, the door clicking shut.

Max was still furious when, after his Latin class, he rejoined Wang.

He had been out of the Chancellor's office for little over the length of that single lecture and in that time had thought of nothing else. The encounter had successfully eroded his entire, previously idealistic, view of the university. Max, rather dramatically, felt like his entire world was turning to ash. He seemed to be being systematically disabused of all his romantic notions.

Within his fury he was incredulous that the Chancellor appeared to sincerely believe that Max's friendship with Wiremu and Wang would drag his studies off course? Or somehow prejudice his tutors against him? Sir Hugh hadn't suddenly become evil in his mind, just... pathetic. Max was saddened by that, for he did want to respect the Chancellor, but not to the point of ignoring out rightly what he had plainly expressed. Still, he couldn't, for a long moment, think of any other gentleman who would feel differently than Sir Hugh. Certainly, his own Grandfather would applaud the man!

No, his father wouldn't say those things. He had always employed Māori at the Aviaries and spoken to and of them with respect. He'd been friends with the old Chief Marino, in fact it was him who had suggested that Max befriend Wiremu in the first place. Max allowed himself a small smile at that thought as he walked beside Wang.

However, the clearest and most surprising message coming from the encounter with Sir Hugh was the near directive to not upset the Lavishams. Max almost spat on the flag stones at the thought of it!

The Lavisham son and father were everywhere!

He was hardly aware of Wang at his side as they neared The Canteen.

Every way he turned a Lavisham blocked his path. First Gilbert Lavisham appears at the Railway Hotel with Harriet, then in the fencing class, and now the father's shadow covers the whole University.

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If the Chancellor imagined that Max would let himself lose a fencing match against Gilbert Lavisham he was sadly mistaken!

"We are to avoid trouble then?" said Wang, suddenly. "That was the main point of the meeting with the Chancellor?"

Max turned to look at Wang for the first time in a good few minutes.

"Yes, I guess that is it," he agreed. "Though Sir Hugh would say that we are to stop making trouble. That's who he sees us as."

"Troublemakers?"

Max nodded and held the door of The Canteen open for Wang. At once their thoughts were drowned out by the noise from within, the noise of raised voices, shouting in... Māori!

“What's going?” hissed Max, out the corner of his mouth, as they tried to elbow their way through a crowd of students.

“Damn it!" barked the voice of Ginger Rumbold. "If you are going to shout the roof off our common room, you could at least do it in the Queen's English!”

There was a general murmur of agreement from those who had gathered in to watch whatever was transpiring. Max and Wang couldn't see much beyond the wall of students, all of whom seemed reluctant to let anyone past.

However, when Max and Wang were recognised people began to begrudgingly give way. Max glanced askance at Wang, but at once they gained some point of vantage and The Five, the five Northern Isle Māori students, were revealed: standing arrayed on one side of a small open space. They had clearly risen recently from a table where they had been eating together. Opposite them, hands on hips, stood Wiremu.

Samson Rumbold and his cronies, along with any other first years who had been in The Canteen at the time, and maybe some who had rushed in when they caught wind that something was happening, made up the crowd of onlookers. Kingi glared at Max and Wang as they pushed to the front of the crowd.

“He kahui poauau koe” spat Mahuika, clearly ignoring Rumbold's request. “Hikaka katoa ki te rere ki Paturau. Te keri i te whenua, hei aha?! Nga wheua o te wairangi! Ko te hunga i mate ano he poauau, he ngoikore, i te taunga mai o te Toa Maori tuturu ki runga i a ratou. Hei poropiti ma koutou katoa!”

“You are a bunch of fools!” translated Kingi, next to her. “All excited to be rushing off to Paturau. Digging in the ground, for what?! The bones of fools! Those who died like fools, weak, when the real Toa Māori fell on them. Let it be a prophecy for you all!”

“Ko koe te tino kino a Wiremu Marino! I te kainga i Ingarangi iti, ka eke ki to tereina me te inu kawhe. He aha te tino Maori e tika ana kia haere ki te karaehe Akoranga Maori?! Kua ngaro koe i to huarahi me ako koe mai i te pakeha? Kua wareware koe he aha te tikanga o te Maori? Kaore ranei koe i mohio!?" continued Mahuika, stretching out a claw like hand to Wiremu.

Again, Kingi picked up her words when she finished.

“You are the worst Wiremu Marino! At home in little England, riding your train and drinking your coffee. What real Māori needs to attend a Māori Studies class?! Have you so lost your way that you must learn it from an Englishman? Have you forgotten what it means to be Māori? Or did you never know!?”

Mahuika's eyes were wide open now, so that her pupils floated free in their whites. Her pink tongue flashed out words that tone alone almost translated; “Kua hiritia to aitua a Marino me te hunga o to ahua. Kua riro te ika a Maui hei Taniwha nui, ka whakatika ia ki te kai i a koe!”

“Your fate is sealed Marino and with it those of your kind. Maui's fish has become the great Taniwha and she rises to devour you!”

The Canteen was in silence when Kingi's words finished. Everyone, whether they knew Wiremu or not, were shocked at what they had just heard. All eyes were on him now. Max had never seen his friend looking so pale. It was like The Five's words had turned him into the Pakeha of which they spoke.

There was a long moment of silence.

Then Wiremu drew breath deep and loudly through his nose. Max saw a little fire kindle in his friend, and his chin came up.

“He aha te tikanga o te noho Maori? Ko te tikanga kei te whakaemi koe i nga pu pakeha, e hiahia ana koe ki te mana?” he began. Then gaining force continued. “Ko te tikanga ka whakarerea e koe to hapu ka haere ki te waahi kei tetahi atu tangata, katahi ka patu koe ki to taiaha waikura, o pu pakeha? Ka moe koe i tana wahine me ana tamahine, ka kai i ana tama hei kai ma korua, ka kohia tana pounamu!? Toto mo to Moko! Koira te mutunga o nga tama a Tane, a Kupe, a Maui?! E mea ana ahau na koutou i hinga ki raro. Ko te toto i roto i o uaua e rere ngoikore ana, e tangi ana!

Kao, ko te noho Maori ko te noho rangatira ki roto i te rarangi roa o nga tupuna. He whakahīhī kua whakahōnoretia ō rātou ingoa me te ora roa me te pai. He oranga i mau mai ai te ora, ehara i te mate. He oranga i noho whakaruruhau mo nga kohungahunga i ou waewae, he kai ma to whanau, he manaaki i o hoa me te tangata ke o to whenua, i rapu tika i te hunga i whakapaea hetia, kua wetekina te ioka i nga kaki o te hunga e tukinotia ana!”

No one spoke when he was finished. Ihaka snorted dismissively and Kingi started to say something to Mahuika.

“Silence!” roared Wiremu, shaking with rage. “My friends await their translation!”

The Five remained quiet. It was clear that none of them were going to provide it. Thus, Wiremu began, turning to his school mates as he did.

“What does it mean to be Māori? Does it mean that you stockpile English muskets, always coveting power? Does it mean that you leave your hapu and travel to the place where another man has his and then kill him with your rusty taiaha, your English guns? Then do you rape his wife and his daughters, eat his sons for your dinner, gather up his greenstone!? Blood for your Moko! Is that the destiny of the sons of Tane, of Kupe and of Maui?! I say it is you who have fallen low. It is the blood in your veins that runs weak and callow!

No, to be Māori is to take your place in the long line of ancestors with pride. Proud to have honoured their names with a long and good life. A life that has brought life, not death. A life that has given shelter to the little ones around your feet, food to your family, hospitality to your friends and to the stranger in your land, sought justice to those wrongly accused and has released the yoke from around the necks of the oppressed!” Wiremu finished by thrusting his finger at the five. “It is you, you Hongi Hikas, you little Napoleons, who have lost your way!”

The Canteen was silent.

If the white students present were impressed by Wiremu's oratory, The Five were not. After a short moment they all started shouting.

“Tutaekuri! Tutaekuri!”

Ginger and a number of his friends joined in, making good sport of it. But Wiremu ignored them all and strode from the room.

“Impressive,” reflected Max, falling into step with Wiremu, as they reached the University gates on Orion Street. “I mean you really held your ground against them.” Max was working hard to sound genuine and not let his usual sarcastic approach infect his tone and thus deny his friend his actual encouragement.

“I didn't really have much choice,” responded Wiremu, marching on. He was setting quite a pace.

“You could have walked away.”

“No I could not. To have walked away would have been to let them walk in, unopposed.”

“What is Tutkuri?” asked Wang.

“Tutaekuri. It's dog shit,” answered Wiremu.

“Right.”

Wang and Max strode along in Wiremu's wake.

“Ah, where are you going?” asked Max.

“To the top of Lewis Street.”

“And why would that be?”

“So I can get another look at Wapping Point.”

“Right. And again why?”

“Because I mean to attack the old Pā there.”

“What can you see eagle eyes?” This time Max made no attempt to hide any sarcastic tones. They were, as Wiremu had promised, at the top of Lewis Street. The cable car was below them, halfway up the steep incline.

“It's too far away to see after all. But there must be a Pou whenua somewhere on this side. I'll be happy with four. The three we saw from the Harrier on Saturday and another, which I'm assuming will be some place on the haven side. You two should go back to your classes. I'll have a closer look and see you on the train home.”

“Don't attack without us,” warned Max, rolling his eyes at Wang.

“I won't,” said Wiremu, squinting his eyes to try and see across the distance and apparently missing Max's tone completely.

* * *

Wiremu had always seemed to Max quietly confident. But now a new determination had taken hold of him. Instead of being hurt or offended at The Five's words he was resolved to take action. In short to send them a message.

“When is this attack going to take place?” asked Wang, somewhat reluctantly seeking clarification. The homeward train rumbled on as Wiremu thought for a moment.

“In maybe three weeks. After Max's big party. When there is a nice full tide to work with.”

“Right,” said Max, ignoring the reference to his birthday celebrations. “Let's go through this again. You are going to steal the Pou whenua. In order to...”

“I'm not going to steal anything,” interrupted Wiremu with an exaggerated whisper. “They basically belong to me. I'm only going to...

“It's the 'basically' that worries me,” reflected Max. “But go on.”

“I'm only going to remove them.”

“The point being?” enquired Wang.

“The point is that in the Northerner's little invasion, they have at Wapping Point established what brother Gerald would call a 'beachhead'. In other words, a strong point from which to launch future attacks. It is principally a psychological beachhead. In the first because of what they believe Wapping Point means to the local iwi, the local people.”

“All right. I'm with you so far.”

“If we remove the Pou whenua the invaders lose their 'place to stand' and just become five kids squatting on a sandpit. The location is stripped of its meaning.”

“Hmm,” said Wang, sounding decidedly unconvinced or maybe simply underwhelmed.

“It would be a big deal Wang. A loud message. And part of that message would be that someone, hopefully they would not know exactly who, sees what they are doing and is standing opposed to it, ready to act.”

“I see, I understand it being a big deal. I think I can appreciate that,” said Max. “But isn't it a too big a deal? Wouldn't such an action be... I don't know... sacrilegious?”

“Most certainly,” agreed Wiremu with a grin that made it appear that he relished the thought. “But the issues involved are bigger than that. These Northerners have no regard for the South Island. While they believe that they have the power to do so they plan to sell it out from underneath its own people. We, I, need to suggest to them that they may not in fact have that power, or more importantly that mana.”

“So, we slip in under the cover of darkness and remove four carved logs?”

“Pretty much. Look you don't have to come!”

“Oh I'm coming!” said Max, with mock defensiveness.

“Me too,” added Wang. “They called my friend dog shit!”