I remained quiet for the next while, walking between the complication of Hamish behind and the accusation of the Dodger in front. There was also the betrayal of my dog. My dog. Why was my dog walking with the Dodger and not me? And before our capture, I realised, he had walked with Hamish. Sure he was polite to me, but it seemed that here in this land where he could communicate, my dog preferred other people’s company.
I pulled myself up short. Wasn’t I missing the most important point? I fell back to walk with Hamish again. ‘Hamish, why don’t they just send us home? The Dodger and me.’
Hamish was finding it hard walking with his hands bound behind him. ‘Why don’t you ask them?’
‘I don’t know the language.’
‘You don’t need to know the language. Can you understand what they mean?’
Here was me thinking I had been being amazingly intuitive. ‘I think I get an idea of what they are saying, but I don’t understand their words.’
‘That comes later. You speak at them, and they will understand you. In the same way, when they want you to understand, they will speak at you. It’s what Jasper is doing. It’s more common to speak the other language, but that comes with longer exposure to the Valley.’ Hamish continued to place one foot in front of the other.
Healing. No hunger. No language barrier. This place is Paradise. I thought as I walked forward to the woman. I tapped her on the shoulder and she turned her chocolate-coloured eyes to me. ‘I want to go home.’ I said, looking into her eyes.
She spoke and my ears heard an incomprehensible jumble of sounds. As Hamish had said though, I found I could understand her intent. It wasn’t hard. You are in our land. You will be judged. We do not want and here the meaning was an approximation of tourists.
‘May I know your name?’
‘No.’ Well, that was clear.
‘Who will judge us, then?’
‘The Valley.’
‘But we meant no harm. My friend and I came to look for my dog.’ It was clear in the next instant that I had said something wrong. The look on the woman’s face changed from neutrality to downright disgust, and she was looking at me. The Dodger had turned his head to follow our conversation, but now he had also sent me to Coventry. The woman turned her head forward and walked on in offended silence. I tried to speak, but she glanced over her shoulder at me with such a look that I stopped trying to speak to her. I ran over what I had said: ‘I want to go home … blah blah … look for my dog.’ No I couldn’t spot the social blunder. I spoke to myself: ‘I really just want to go home.’
We all walked in silence, back through the forest, past the McKenzie trees, and then we took a different fork in the slight path. The new path also continued to go lower as we went through the forest. I heard again the soft voice on the wind: ‘Jock’s son will close the gate. George’s girl will heal it. Friday’s pup will stand a guard forever more to seal it.’
I tried again with the woman ahead of me. ‘That’s the same thing she said when we came through before. Do you always hear the same thing when you come through the forest?’
She looked suddenly at me. I do not hear anything. What is said? Her sudden interest scared me. The Dodger had heard what I had said, but he did not turn around. I would have liked some indication from him as to how to respond, but I allowed my fear to make up an answer: ‘Something about getting home by Friday.’ I said. I could hear a laugh of approval on the wind. The forest voice was amused. My captor was not.
Why she will talk to you I do not know. Friday is the dog-person, fool. You insult the ancestors of your dog-companion. He would do well to stay here with us. We do not pretend to own each other as though we were still slaves. Jasper turned his head to look at the woman, then me. I caught a glimmer of what my offence could have been.
I persevered. ‘But what does she say to you?’
She said to bring the thief and his companions to the source to be judged. That is all. She turned away from me and I was left to walk in silence again.
Hamish called softly to me, ‘What was that about?’ But I shook my head and continued to walk with my head down. Hamish had said that Friday was one of the originals. So, Jasper could have been a descendant of the original dog, but so could a large number of others. This one fact did not change anything, but I was unsettled.
Suddenly the lights went out. I screamed.
Ok, it wasn’t really pitch dark, and I could still see where I was putting my feet, but with the lights out, the feeling of the place changed. At one moment I was walking through a pleasant forest, soft leaves underfoot with the warm scent of moist bark. The next moment all feelings of pleasure, softness and warmth fled.
The woman turned, impatience making her words harsh. Hush. It is not good to alert the other Overlanders. The Non-light time will pass.
I couldn’t believe what a difference the absence of someone could make.
It was dark. The two Maori men sat huddled in grey blankets either side of the open fire. A long, thick stick, supported by a branch at either side of the fire, held nothing but a billy full of simmering tea. A tin mug sat beside one of the uprights. Eyes on the fire, the older man threw another log into the blaze. He spoke sadly to the younger. In the red light cast by the flames, both faces looked fierce, but this was partly due to the tattoos that covered their cheeks, noses and chins. Swirls and lines in green covered more of the older man’s face than the younger. Discussion between the two men ceased. The older man had decided. The younger man, as was expected, gave his assent. The times before, the Scotsman had needed the sheep more than the Owner did – the Owner didn’t even know how many sheep he had - so they had not reported the previous thefts. But now the elders said that tapu had been broken, so this time the loss had been reported. The Scotsman and his cousins would be caught. The younger stood up. At the edge of the light cast by the fire, he stopped as though listening, then started towards the north. ‘Kia ora, Hone. Tekau ma Whitu has gone to find Mr Rhodes’ sheep.’ ‘It is night. Does he think he can find them in a strange place in the dark?’ ‘This place is known to my hapu. Takau ma Whitu will find them.’ In the companionable silence that followed, the man took another sip of his hot tea. ‘I haven’t been further than the foothills of the Snowy Mountains before. I don’t think many people know about that pass back there.’ He indicated the dark that he had ridden in from. The Maori turned his sad eyes towards the white man. ‘My people have always known of this place. The land lets us pass through when we have ancestors to tangi. But not anymore. The land has left us.’ ‘Ah.’ Silence stretched between them, full of the unfathomable divide. Neither man understood the other. Neither man cared. Adventure and discovery occupied one; outrage and sorrow the other.
Interlude March 4th, 1855
A white man on horse back loomed out of the dark from the opposite direction the young man had left. He tied his horse to a matagouri bush before approaching the fire. The white man, bundled up in sheepskin jacket, thick trousers and boots, crouched down and picked up the mug, making himself warm with a mug full of the strong tea before he spoke. ‘Kia ora, Taiko. Where has the boy gone?’
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