Justice and Utu by David Hair

subsequently.’
    Belsworth moved to face the jury. ‘You were moved, you say?’ He smirked at the nearest juror, a hog-like man who’d laughed loudest at all of Belsworth’s remarks. ‘What parts of you were moved the most?’ he enquired in a slimy voice. ‘Your head, or your heart? Or something a little lower, perhaps?’ The fat juror beside Belsworth guffawed, as did his fellows.
    â€˜Objection again!’ Tama was on his feet. ‘This sort of conduct would not be tolerated where I— would not be tolerated in any court, Your Honour!’
    â€˜Then go back where you came from,’ growled the big juror. ‘Mr Fancy-pants Modern Man.’
    Judge Williams hammered his gavel several times. ‘Mr Douglas, you are not in your world. You are in my court. My world. Pray do not forget it!’
    Tama gritted his teeth. ‘Your Honour.’
    â€˜And as for you, Mr Belsworth, I expected better of you, sir! This is a gentlemen’s court, and I will not have the attorneys resorting to such tap-room humour. Am I understood?’ Judge Williams looked like no-one’s pushover now.
    Belsworth wore a put-upon face as he bowed. ‘Your Honour, I merely sought to establish the witness’s motive in speaking in support of a woman whom the whole world knows — and which she does not deny — to be a sorceress, murderess, traitor, kidnapper and liar. No gentleman would ever speak for such a one. Which leads one to wonder why any man would speak for her. If not carnal, could his motives be venal? Does he hope for reward from John Bryce or Sebastian Venn, perhaps?’
    The gallery began to seethe again as it processed these suggestions. ‘Hang him, too!’ someone yelled again, and another called out, ‘Hey, Guv’nor! What did he pay you for the pardon?’
    Bang! Bang! Bang! went the judge’s gavel. ‘I will clear the court if this constant clamour does not subside!’ He glanced at Governor Grey, who was peering up into the gallery as though trying to see who had shouted at him. The crowd went reluctantly quiet.
    â€˜It would seem to me that Mr Wiremu is a most un trustworthy witness,’ Belsworth resumed. ‘As you have said, Your Honour, this is a gentlemen’s court, yet here is this savage , this pardoned killer given unnatural longevity through darkest makutu, speaking out for one of his own. Whether by greed or lust, he binds himself publicly to her. He claims he saw mercy in her demeanour, there at the end in Te Iho. Mercy? From Donna Kyle? Impossible, I say! Impossible, and thereforeuntrue. I put it to the jurors that this man’s evidence is either compelled — as apparently all this man’s own crimes were — or mistaken.’
    He raised a hand to forestall the gallery from making more noise in support — he clearly didn’t want this session to end when it was going so well for him — and jabbed a finger in the air. ‘This witness is not on trial — this time — but his evidence is dubious at best.’
    He smiled as the gallery restrained themselves to a ripple of applause. He bowed to them, and turned back to his seat. ‘No more questions, Your Honour,’ he said airily, and sat among the junior prosecutors, ostentatiously accepting handshakes from his colleagues.
    Wiri was sweating and trembling as he sat down beside Mat. Their eyes met briefly: Wiri’s were blazing with repressed fury.
    A bailiff stood. ‘The court calls Wiremu Matiu Douglas.’
    Mat felt like he was about to be sick. He stood on legs that felt like those of a newborn colt, and tottered forward, clutching onto each bench for support, then gripped the side of the podium. He took two deep breaths, and looked across to his father.
    â€˜Take a sip of water,’ Tama told him. He did so, and felt a little better.
    Mat had to swear an oath on a leather-bound Bible, and then Dad took him