Tepua wrung the brine out of her hair. The ocean had reclaimed her crown of seaweed, but she felt as if she still wore it. Curling-leaf's little ritual had been purely impulsive, yet Tepua felt the depth of feeling in it.
All three sat down on a log beneath the shade of a huge ironwood, their wraps plastered against their wet bodies, their feet crusted with fine black sand.
For a long time they talked, then fell silent. Maukiri finally wandered off.
"She will understand, someday," Curling-leaf said. "For this to come and then go away without some celebration— that would be sad. Our dance in the sea was not much, but at least it was something." She sighed. "What will you do now?"
"I have no choice. I must tell Aitofa."
"She cannot punish you," said Curling-leaf.
"I was careless," Tepua confessed. A priest had taught her chants to prevent pregnancy, and had urged her to bathe in the sea after lying with a man. On that night with Matopahu she had been so caught up in her feelings that she had done neither....
"Even so, she will not blame you. Look at how often this happens in our troupe!"
As soon as Tepua stepped across the threshold of Aitofa's quarters, she wished she had not come. The lodge chiefess looked tired, and there were new lines under her eyes. Tepua sensed a deep weariness of the spirit that made her wonder if Aitofa had already lost the struggle with her rival. Tepua wished she did not have to add her woes to Aitofa's burden.
The chiefess greeted her, but her voice lacked warmth. "You look pale. Not more trouble with Pehu-pehu, I hope."
"Only if she finds out. That is why I have come." Tepua tried to keep her voice steady as she explained her predicament.
"You know then what you must do. What you swore to do."
"Noble chiefess, I cannot bear the thought of growing large with this child and then killing it when it is born."
Aitofa was silent.
Tepua's lips and tongue went dry. "Are there ever reasons...for sparing a child?"
"Only when the woman is of the highest Arioi rank. You are far from that. And you understand that your atoll ancestry gives you few privileges here."
"The father is Matopahu."
"The father's rank alone cannot help you," Aitofa answered solemnly. "And look how precarious Matopahu's position is now. Even if you were foolish enough to leave the order and keep the child, it would be constantly in danger. Land-crab wants no rivals to his chiefhood."
Tepua clenched her teeth, not wishing to be reminded of Matopahu's struggles. "There is another reason I ask for an exception."
Aitofa cocked her head, indicating that she would listen.
"The great gods do not usually bother with our affairs, but you know that Oro has seized me more than once. And when I joined with Matopahu, Oro was there as well. I carry the seed of the god as well as that of my lover."
Aitofa folded her arms. "So you ask me to make an exception because the child was sired by Oro. Do you know how many girls with growing bellies have told me the same tale? I thought you, at least, would come up with something more original."
"The god did come," Tepua cried, stung.
Aitofa began to tap one finger on her knee, a sign that she was losing patience. "Even if I believed this wild tale of yours, what would I say to the priests? Where is the sign? they would ask. What can I show them?"
Defiantly Tepua laid her hand on her belly. "It is here."
Aitofa took a deep breath. "Have you not understood what I struggled to teach you? It was Oro who commanded the Arioi to be childless. How can the god make such an edict, then plant his seed in a woman of his order? It makes no sense, unless he is trying to test your obedience."
Tepua's mouth fell open. "Test? No. It is too cruel."
"Be careful, Tepua. Only the priests can tell us what the gods expect of us. And the priests have made themselves clear."
"Yet I know you have doubts about some of their pronouncements.''
"Doubts, yes. But I cannot overturn such a basic rule as this. I have already learned how much trouble even a small rebellion can bring."
Is that why you are weak and Pehu-pehu grows stronger? Tepua wanted to ask the question, but kept silent, knowing the answer would not change anything. She could see that in Aitofa's face.
"Be reasonable, Tepua. Let us take care of this ourselves, before anyone else finds out. I will get you a potion made from herbs and the roots of wild yam. It will bring on your moon flow."
Tepua sighed. "I have felt the tiny fruit. It is starting to grow."
"Better to cast out an unripened fruit than to strangle a newborn baby," Aitofa said, her face hard. "Would you like to discuss this with Pehu-pehu?"
I should not have let my self feel any joy. I should not have danced in the sea. Then this would not be so difficult.
She tried once more. "What if my claim is true, and Oro has sired this child?"
"That is for the gods to decide. If the drink fails, then your argument will be a little stronger."
Tepua cast her gaze around the room, searching for an escape, but there was none. She remembered when she had begged Aitofa to allow her to join the Arioi. The chiefess had emphasized this harsh rule of the order, and Tepua had sworn to obey. What choice had she now?
If the unborn seed was washed away in the moon flow, it would be as if it had never existed. Matopahu would never know. Everything could go on as before.
"If you wish to serve Oro, this is the right way." Aitofa's voice was gentler now. "If I get you the potion, will you take it?"
Tepua's answer slid from her tongue, as leaden and dull as the grief she felt.
"Yes."
Early the next afternoon, Tepua stood once again in Aitofa's quarters. The Blackleg held out a coconut cup half-filled with a murky liquid. Tepua could not help wrinkling her nose at the unpleasant smell. Reluctantly she took the cup between her hands.
She thought of Matopahu, of all his hopes for a son. Yet she had not misled him into thinking that she might bear his child. Long ago they had agreed that she would abide by the rules of her order.
Matopahu would not be the first nobleman whose entry into fatherhood was postponed because of the Arioi. Some people of high rank were actually glad to delay the appearance of a child, for at birth the infant inherited the titles held by the father and mother. The first son of a chief became chief at birth, taking over his father's high rank, though, in practice, the father continued to rule until the son was of age.
A tear seeped from Tepua's eye, but she refused to give in to sorrow. She steadied herself and brought the cup to her mouth. The odor made her gag. She tried not to breathe as she uttered a short prayer, then tipped up the cup.... Why was she tormented by an image of Matopahu's face?
"Drink, and spare yourself an unhappier task," said Aitofa softly.
"Aue!" After three long swallows it was done. Tepua looked about wildly for something else to drink, something to wash away the sickening taste. Aitofa offered her another half coconut, but Tepua turned it away. She ran outside to a nearby stream, threw herself down, and gulped water.
When she was done, she looked up and saw Aitofa watching her. Tepua raised a hand to warn the chiefess away. A black bitterness was sweeping through her. It did not matter that Aitofa had done this out of sympathy and friendship.
The chiefess seemed to recognize the signs and kept her distance. "Can I send someone to help you?" she asked.
"Maukiri and Curling-leaf," Tepua gasped as she sat up. She felt as though small stones were jumping around in her stomach. A spell of nausea swept through her, and she feared the brew might come back up.
She did not move until the feeling in her stomach eased. Now she felt perspiration gathering, first on her forehead, then on her back and chest. Craving a breeze, she staggered to her feet and headed seaward, emerging above the beach where a fresh wind blew in her face and finally offered some comfort. For support, she put her arm around a coconut palm that leaned toward the water.
Opposite a break in the reef she watched a youngster playing with the stern of a broken canoe, trying to ride it to shore on the crest of a wave. How cool and refreshing the water looked. She took a few steps and several more, until the water reached her knees. A fierce cramp started in her belly.
She turned back, collapsed on the beach, and lay moaning until the spasm eased. Nearby she heard voices. "Can you find...Maukiri...?" she asked a passing group of girls.
"Mau—" The first girl looked at her in puzzlement.
Tepua kept forgetting that Tahitians, knowing only the soft sounds of their own language, could not pronounce her cousin's name. "Mau'iri," Tepua repeated, dragging herself to the foot of the palm tree.
Her head was aching and her vision starting to ripple. She groaned, laying her damp forehead against her arms, until her cousin arrived.
"You must rest," said Maukiri. "I will help you keep cool." She took Tepua's arm and assisted her up the gentle slope that led from the beach. She spread coconut fronds for a bed and plaited a simple fan.
"What will you tell your man?" asked Maukiri as she kept a soft current of air flowing.
"He...must not ever know," Tepua answered. "We were together only one night. He should not expect—" She doubled up in a cramp, rolling on her side with her hand clutching her belly. "He...should not think...a man can sire a child in just one night...."
Staying on the shore with Maukiri beside her, Tepua resigned herself to a long bout of severe cramps and nausea. As the afternoon wore on, her arms and legs shook with weakness, and the throbbing in her head made it difficult to open her eyes. When she was not curled up in pain, she lay in a bath of sweat and misery, waiting for the bleeding to start and the agony to end.
Maukiri, and later Curling-leaf, tended her, fanned her, washed and cooled her with seawater, and tried to get her to drink fresh coconut milk. Between cramps, they massaged her sore belly lightly, to ease the ache. Somehow the night passed.
She woke from a restless, delirious sleep to find that daylight had come. Maukiri and Curling-leaf had built a lean-to over her to shade her from curious eyes. Finally the racking pain subsided. Too weak to move, she could barely raise her head to drink from the coconuts that her friends held to her lips.
"Have I bled?" she asked in a whisper, her vision so blurred that she was unable to make out who sat with her.
"No," came Curling-leaf's reply.
Tepua closed her eyes, feeling drained, empty. The effects of the potion had wrung everything out of her—everything except the child. She felt herself spinning, drifting away....
When she woke again, it was evening. Some of her strength had returned. She looked up to see Aitofa kneeling beside her.
"I am sorry, Tepua," the lodge chiefess said. 'To put you through all this, and leave you no better off than before—"
"But what am I to do?"
"The tahu 'a who provided the potion has gone away. She is a good woman, and I trust her. When she comes back, we will both go see what she can suggest. Meanwhile, stay clear of Pehu-pehu."
Tepua tried to follow Aitofa's orders. After another day of rest she returned to her group, asking the others to make sure that she did not sleep late—even if they had to carry her out of the guest house. She drank little before retiring, hoping to sleep through the night.
Long after dark she woke, feeling a need to urinate. She threw the cloak around her and crept out carefully, trying to avoid disturbing anyone. Fortunately she had moonlight to guide her way to the place where she squatted to relieve herself.
As she stood up, Tepua thought she heard footsteps. She froze, hairs prickling her nape. It could only be someone else coming out for the same reason, she told herself. She peered along the shadowy path....
Someone grabbed her roughly from behind. She managed a single cry before a hand clamped down over her lips. Someone else held her legs. She squirmed and bucked, trying to get a look at her attackers.
Pehu-pehu's bulky figure loomed on the trail ahead. As Tepua fought her captors, she saw the Blackleg signaling them to bring her closer. While the women tried to hold Tepua steady, Pehu-pehu put her hands just above Tepua's pubic bone and kneaded harshly. Tepua tried to scream, but no sound came.
"As I thought," Pehu-pehu whispered to her companions, women of high Arioi rank who had become the Blackleg's allies. "Follow me."
Tepua fought Pehu-pehu's friends as they carried her, but she could not open her mouth for a warning cry. By the time they brought her to their destination—a small hut that smelled of dampness and unpleasant herbs—she had nearly exhausted herself.
The place was lit inside by a few candlenut tapers. "Scream all you like now," the Blackleg told her as the hand covering her mouth was pulled away. "We are far from anyone who will help you."
"You will answer to Aitofa for this," Tepua spat back as the women forcibly stretched her out on a mat. Her terror began to rise as she noticed the strange artifacts hung along the walls—a human jawbone, crude figures carved in wood, necklaces strung with teeth that were impossibly long.
"I am called Nimble," said the occupant of the hut, emerging from the shadows. "You'll suffer less if you don't fight. Let me do my work, and you'll be free."
Tepua could not judge Nimble's age. Her eyes were deep set, her face fleshy. Her arms and wrists were heavily tattooed. In her ears she wore tiny tufts of yellow feathers. Could she be the woman Aitofa had wanted to consult? Surely this must be some other tahu 'a.
"Do not do this," Tepua whispered, searching for some signs of kindness in the wrinkled face. "I will obey the Arioi rules. I have already made arrangements. My lodge chiefess—"
"Ignore her," the Blackleg ordered. "We have no time to waste."
Nimble knelt beside Tepua and began to probe her belly. "The seed clings tightly," proclaimed the tahu'a. Tepua wriggled under the onslaught of pressing fingers. "We must force it to let go." When she spoke, her tongue darted in her mouth like the tongue of a lizard.
Nimble began to chant, calling on the gods of her profession to aid her. As she sang she began to probe more deeply.
Tepua whispered her own prayer—to Tapahi-roro-ariki. Do not let this woman harm me.
Meanwhile, Pehu-pehu's companions bore down harder, grinding her legs and arms against the thin mat and the hard ground beneath. These were the same women she often saw clustered around the Blackleg, the ones who were surely scheming with her to displace Aitofa.
The tahu'a began a deep massage, causing new agony with every stroke. Tepua squirmed and cried, but she could not budge under the combined weight of her captors. She remembered, as a girl, how she had endured the tattooing of her buttocks. The pain had seemed bearable at first. After a time she began to beg for a rest, but two cousins sat on her until one side could be finished.
Never had time passed more slowly. Yet this was far worse. Nimble's fingers seemed to be reaching inside Tepua's body, squeezing pain from every place she touched. She clutched and kneaded and grabbed until Tepua shrieked from the torment. Sweat poured in rivers from Tepua's face and back. Thrashing like a wounded animal, she lifted her head and tried to bite Nimble's arm.
"Enough!"
Tepua struggled up from a red haze of pain. The voice— surely she was dreaming—Aitofa's?
The grip of the tahu 'a became harder, as if Nimble sensed her prey would be torn from her hands. The pain flamed, seized Tepua, bent her back in an upward arch, and tore a scream from her throat.
"I said, enough!"
Suddenly the claws were gone from Tepua's belly and the worst of the agony with them. With an effort, she looked up. Nimble was sitting stiffly, her muscular arms raised. Aitofa and a dozen Arioi women had crowded into the hut. Several carried spears.
"Aitofa, why do you interrupt us?" asked Pehu-pehu in an even voice. "I am doing what is best for her...and our troupe. We all know that."
"Is that why you snatched her at night, when you hoped I was sleeping?" Aitofa took anoth
er step forward, her voice cold and her eyes glittering.
She turned to Nimble. "Your work is done. You will not touch her again."
Tepua tried to sit up and sank back, dizzy. The bleeding had not begun, but she assumed that it would start soon. She wanted to be away from here, with her friends looking after her. Looking up at Aitofa through eyes blurred with tears, she attempted to speak, but could not.
"Someone heard footsteps outside and noticed you were gone," Aitofa explained as the women loyal to her helped Tepua up. "It was not hard to follow Pehu-pehu's tracks."
She took Tepua to the lean-to near the beach, where Maukiri and Curling-leaf came to tend her once again. This time Tepua recovered more quickly. What good had the cruel hands of the tahu 'a done? she began to ask herself. Night and morning and night passed, but she suffered no cramps or bleeding. All signs convinced her that the seed within still flourished.
A day later, Tepua stood with Aitofa in a quiet place away from the practicing Arioi. Sunlight gleamed on the waters of a brook and on shiny black rocks, but the mood was somber.
Tepua studied Aitofa's tired face. Beneath the eyes of the chiefess lay heavy pouches. How many nights had the poor woman lain awake trying to find a way to defeat the rival Blackleg? Had she gained anything in making that show of force?
"Pehu-pehu has found another tahu 'a," the lodge chiefess whispered.
Tepua cried out in alarm and moved her hands protectively over her belly. "She will fail like the others."
'There will be more foul drinks," warned Aitofa. "Massage, treatments even harsher. If those fail, she will thrust a strong stalk inside you—"
"No! I have endured enough. Let the child be born, and then I will deal with it. That is what other women do."
"Ah, Tepua. Don't you understand? She wants to make an example of you. So the other girls are more careful. So no one tries to beg for an exception."
"Why single me out? Is this for my refusal to join Chipped-rock Lodge?"
Aitofa stared at her and did not reply at once. "Perhaps," the chiefess said sadly, "it is because of me. Pehu-pehu has spies of her own. She knows that you work against her."
Child of the Dawn Page 20
