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to use his gold to guarantee a loan which would allow them to replenish their run-down estates. Diego could now be the key to restoring the once-great Santos name, to rejoin the families who ruled Barcelona. These families traced their lineage back to Hamilcar Barca, the great Carthaginian who founded the city before the time of Christ.
    “Diego’s eyes gleamed. This was a dream even bigger than the one that had carried him around the world. It tied him in to his ancestors. And it gave him something more, something that couldn’t be ignored, couldn’t be bought: mana. The mana that slowly grew from fifty generations living in the same place, growing like a mighty kauri tree amongst the stunted saplings that came and went. At last he knew what he wanted. This plan could satisfy that dull, hungry ache, deep in his gut.
    “In due course his name was appended to a multitude of crested documents. Then these were sealed with red wax and imprintedwith the brothers’ signet rings. The next step was to visit the Jewish money lenders. These were the people who underwrote the enterprises of the high and mighty. The city was abuzz with the name of Santos once more.
    “To celebrate their pact, a banquet was organised. The great wood-panelled hall of his parents’ home was decked out in finery. This made Diego anxious about their extravagance. The brothers laughed away his fears. Appearances were important in Barcelona. The Santos family was giving notice that they were back: the world should pay attention. The three brothers were about to take their rightful place. This had to be done with confidence and pageantry. Empires were built on little more.
    “Diego was flattered that they were making such a fuss of him. It showed him his brothers were sincere in welcoming him back into the family. He knew that at last his destiny had taken a different turn and he could look forward to a life of respect, of stability. Next would come a wife, children, all the trappings of a happy, secure middle-age.
    “Diego was seated at the head of the huge table in the mighty feasting hall. All the best families in Barcelona were present. Their titles were long and their histories embedded in the story of the city. It was a circle that he was now part of. One that required more than money as the price of admission. The women were beautiful and the men refined. Their skin was pale and unblemished by the sun. Their clothes were heady confections of silk and damask. Their manner was confident: they had all the easy assurance of people living in a world that had been constructed around their tastes and aspirations. Their conversation was coded and ornate, peppered with Latin, French and English. Diego’s final reservations about throwing in his fortunes with his brothers melted away. How he burned to belong in this glittering assembly!
    “After the dinner the hall was cleared and musicians were brought in. There was dancing and laughter. Diego watched fromthe side, afraid of shaming himself through clumsy movement. He glimpsed now all that he needed to learn. All the customs and graces he lacked because of his years at sea.
    “At the end of the evening there were toasts and speeches: a chance to show wit and learning. The final toast was to Diego. He was given an ancient chalice filled to the brim with dark red wine. His older brother told the assembly of his accomplishments. His voyages. His heroic return. Diego had never felt prouder. His heart was ready to burst.”
    Ra leant back in his chair, tired now with retelling the tale. The tale he had been told so many times as a boy. At his feet the two children waited silently for him to resume.
    “And that, my mokos, is enough. Your grandfather is tired. It takes a lot to pull this big fish out of the dark swirl of my memory. I will tell you more tomorrow, but only if you get ready for bed now.”
    That was the deal and both sides had to honour it. There was no argument to be had.
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