Child of the Dawn

by Coleman, Clare;

  She went to Tupaia, who was standing with Hau and a group of her own men. "My lady..." The urgency in the priest's voice startled her. Outside the longhouse, the meeting ground lay inexplicably empty. When had the crowd of onlookers vanished? She noticed Tapani Van's guards watching for signs of movement in the distant bushes.

  "What is this?" she demanded of the priest. "Has Tutaha betrayed me?"

  "I do not know," he said unhappily. "But men with slings and stones are crouching just out of sight."

  "The foreigners must not see them!"

  "The warriors may attack," Tupaia said. "I advise you to send your guests back to the safety of their vessel."

  "And let them learn that I have no control over these people? The visitors believe I rule all of Tahiti!"

  The priest stared at her in astonishment and dismay. Hau spoke first. "Must you continue this pretense, Purea?" he asked bluntly. 'Tell the foreigners the truth."

  "That they have ventured among quarreling chiefs? No. If they discover that, they will forget about making peace and think only of conquering us. It is far better to let them believe that I command the entire island."

  "Then we must do something about these hidden warriors," Tupaia said.

  "You, Hau," she replied quickly. "Can you learn if Tutaha has sent these sling-men?"

  "I will try." She saw the conflict of loyalties in the old man's expression as he turned away and headed across the clearing. He owed allegiance to Tutaha, yet he seemed to understand the larger stakes.

  "I have no wish for a battle with Tutaha over this," she said to the priest. "He is a great chief, and I respect the way he rules. But on the matter of the visitors he is blind."

  To assure her guests that all remained well, Purea called for refreshments to be set out on the ground adjacent to the house. Servants scurried to lay down banana leaves and coconut cups in a great ring. Others went to fetch baskets of fruit.

  While these preparations were under way, a messenger arrived. Tupaia spoke with him briefly. "Chief Tutaha wishes to speak with you," the priest told Purea gravely. "He is waiting at a house nearby."

  "At this moment?" A warning prickle lifted hairs on the back of her neck, making her shiver. At the same time, she felt the corners of her mouth draw back in a scornful grimace. Did Tutaha believe that she was a fool or a coward? Did he think she would abandon her guests to his ambush? "If the esteemed chief wishes to see me, he can come here," she answered firmly.

  The messenger argued with Tupaia, but to no avail. At last the envoy's face hardened. He turned on his heel and strode off.

  Chief of Pare-Arue, you will not drive me as the stone fishermen drive their prey by striking the water.

  Hau arrived next and his expression was grim. "If an attack comes, you can be sure that Tutaha is behind it."

  "And what will that gain him? Hau, you have watched these visitors closely. Do you think that the loss of their commander will frighten them away from Tahiti?"

  The old man's face paled. "I don't believe we have seen the full power of their weapons. These strangers will not run. They will destroy us first and then take our land."

  "Do you support your chief in this folly?"

  Hau looked away. "He is at the marae, waiting for a sign from the priests. The gods will tell him what to do."

  "I have already heard from my gods," Purea answered. She glanced out from the shade of the longhouse into the foliage beyond the clearing and felt cold streaks down her arms. She had seen the remains of men who had been killed by sling stones—chests smashed, foreheads cratered. This was no fate she could wish on her guests.

  'Tell me this, Hau," she continued. "If I send my own warriors out, will Tutaha's men attack them?"

  "My lady, perhaps you should ask him."

  Purea followed Hau's gaze. A small party was approaching on the path from shore. Flanked by his advisors and orators, the formidable Tutaha came closer. Then he stopped, keeping his distance from the foreign guests. Purea let him wait, turning first to escort Tapani Van to his dining place. Her guest now seemed happy and relaxed. With signs she told him that she would shortly return.

  Summoning her strength, Purea advanced with a slow and regal tread to where Tutaha awaited her. "I regret that you have chosen to deceive me," she said coldly.

  Tutaha's expression darkened. "And I regret that we disagree so strongly on what must be done."

  "You will not harm my guests."

  "Finish your entertainment," he offered.

  "And afterward? Do you plan to attack them on the shore?"

  "Once the strangers depart from this house, they will not be your concern."

  Purea turned and gestured toward the distant trees. "Withdraw your men. That is the only answer I can accept from you."

  "I will," he replied. "For now. But you must agree to something in return. You will stay behind when the foreigners depart. You will not leave this place."

  Purea felt his sharp gaze. "I agree to nothing. Remember this, mighty chief. I am your guest." She watched the expressions of the men around Tutaha, several of whom were her kin by marriage. She wondered if they would permit any harm to come to her.

  "You are, indeed, my guest, noble lady," Tutaha conceded. "And you are a sensible woman. At the proper moment, I know you will take care for your own safety...and remain behind." With these words he turned away and departed.

  Purea was trembling with rage. She tried to calm herself as she went back to join the foreigners. To her relief she saw that her guests remained at ease.

  When the feasting and entertainment were done, Tapani Vari stood up to address Purea. "We are saddened that we must take our leave," he said through Hau. "Your hospitality has refreshed us and renewed our spirits."

  "I, too, am sad," Purea replied. "You must come see me again. Soon you will be fully well again." The words seemed to die on her lips, however. She did not even know if these men would survive until evening.

  Laden with rolls of tapa, fruit, hogs, fowls, and other gifts, the foreigners prepared to return to their landing place. Tutaha's warning echoed in Purea's ear. She imagined the sling-men posted somewhere down the path...and the destruction that would follow.

  Tapani Vari signed that he felt well enough to walk now. His guardsmen, in their red garments and tall headgear, strode on ahead. They had become lax in their vigilance, Purea thought. Now they had eyes only for the young lovelies of Purea's court who accompanied them. Must these girls, too, fall victim to Tutaha's attack?

  Purea suddenly strode forward. "I will come with you," she announced to her guest, trying to put gaiety into her voice. Tupaia called her back, but she refused to listen. She caught up with Tapani Vari, strode beside him, keeping as close as possible.

  As they went, she spoke merrily to her guest, aware that not a drop of perspiration could make its way down her face, nor a doubt show in her eyes. Ahead, breadfruit trees grew close on each side of the path. She had never thought of these trees with anything but appreciation for the crop they gave. Now they only provided hiding places for Tutaha's warriors.

  Her voice grew louder. Let Tutaha know I am defying him. She glanced behind and was gratified to see that Tupaia had joined the party, marching with the lesser masters of the vessel.

  Tapani Vari laughed, his eyes twinkling and a pleasant ruddiness showing in his cheeks. His mood had improved greatly by this visit ashore, yet he remained infirm. She offered him her arm. She helped him cross streams, astonishing him with her strength when she lifted him over a narrow creek. "You must regain your lost weight," she said jokingly. "A woman should not be able to lift a man."

  And all along the way she kept alert for any signs of movement, for leaves shaking, for the whispers of hidden warriors. Were they behind her now, creeping up, readying their slings? Or were they just ahead, where the path turned? The walk went on and on, as long a walk as she had ever taken. She prayed to her guardian spirit that Tutaha would not be so foolish as to kill Te Vahine Airoreatua i Ah
urai i Farepua....

  EIGHTEEN

  The vision faded. Groggily, Tepua opened her eyes to see the gloom of the cave and Stay-long bending over her. "What—"

  "You have been with the spirits," the tahutahu said quietly.

  "But..." Vivid memories flooded over her. "They gave me no answer about the child," she wailed.

  "Perhaps it is there, and you do not grasp it."

  Tepua's thoughts were a jumble. What had she gained by coming here at all? she asked herself bitterly. She had visited Purea twice before simply by falling asleep on her mat.

  Yet she had felt something extraordinary when she gazed at the skulls. Perhaps Matopahu's ancestors did have a special interest in Purea and the days to come. If Matopahu managed to produce an heir, then Purea might be one of his descendants!

  "We must leave," Stay-long said, helping Tepua up. "This is no place to remain after dark."

  "Yes, we must go." But Tepua's head was still filled with questions. The gods had frustrated her again, holding back what she needed to know.

  She watched uneasily as the tahutahu tugged at one end of the doubled rope, letting the other end up to slide free of its pivot high atop the cliff. When Stay-long had retrieved the whole length, she found an eyehole near the mouth of the cave, threaded the rope through, and dropped the ends into the gorge. "We will go all the way down," the headman's wife explained. "Tomorrow we will have a long walk back to the settlement. But after this, no more dangling from ropes!"

  The promise encouraged Tepua as she started the tedious journey down. Knowing that there would be solid ground below, and a stream for drinking and bathing, also helped. Her lips and throat felt parched. She had been without liquid for half a day.

  Step-by-step she descended. All the while her thoughts churned. The idea that Purea might be of Matopahu's line opened a wealth of possibilities. Purea, who are you? Do I carry your seed or, perhaps, that of your mother? If I destroy this child, will I protect Tahiti or assure the end of our people?

  Not even Stay-long could supply an answer. Tepua's problem remained unresolved as she returned to her life with the highland manahune.

  The season progressed and rain became scarcer. In the woods, many kinds of leaves turned yellow. Wild ginger and turmeric died out. In the tended groves, bananas were less abundant.

  The manahune frequently went in search of wild foods. Though Tepua's belly was growing large, she joined the less strenuous expeditions, gathering chestnuts, fern roots, and wild taro. Maukiri, meanwhile, became renowned for her ability to recover straying chickens.

  As the days passed, Tepua noticed the child growing more active within her. Sometimes it pushed out with its feet, creating a bump she could feel with her hands. Often, especially at night, it grew restless, seeming to spin around inside her like a small tempest.

  Her body changed in other ways. A dark line developed from her navel down over the arch of her stomach. The light brown skin around her nipples grew darker, and the nipples began to leak a thin milky fluid. Eventually, her walk changed to the wide-footed strut she had seen in other heavily pregnant women. With her stomach thrust out, she balanced on her heels, leaning back to counteract the weight in front.

  The first time Tepua felt the tightening feeling at the top of her belly, she thought she might be going into early labor. Stay-long reassured her that this wasn't so. Soon this became familiar—a pulling sensation just beneath her rib cage, spreading slowly and evenly around the sides of her bulging middle until the whole felt hard and tight. Then, just as slowly, her belly would relax.

  Tepua frequently visited Round-pebble, a cousin of Stay-long's, who was nursing a child she had borne shortly after Tepua's arrival. Round-pebble was a devotee of dancing. When Tepua had been slimmer, she and Round-pebble had spent much time practicing together. Now Tepua could only sit and give instructions while Stay-long's cousin improved her technique.

  Sometimes Tepua watched Round-pebble suckling her child while the women sat in a circle and talked. She had seen this countless times before, and it had never seemed extraordinary. Now, with her own breasts swelling, she could not help imagining herself in Round-pebble's place.

  So many days had passed that her last conversation with Aitofa seemed like a distant dream. The Arioi rarely entered her thoughts anymore. Even her memories of Matopahu came less frequently. Her attention was constantly on the child within her. Before the next full moon, her time would come....

  One afternoon Maukiri went off with a foraging party. Tepua was shuffling back from the stream alone when she heard distant shouts. Men raced by on the path that crossed hers. She saw their clubs and spears and suddenly felt alarm. Invaders? This was the time of year when food was scarcest. Desperate people might have come to see what they could steal.

  Tepua had no weapon with her, nor was she in any condition to put up a fight. She put her hands to her great belly, wondering how to protect what lay within. Hurrying as well as she could, she took refuge near the headman's marae, under Stay-long's house of spirit figures. This was a place that most people dreaded approaching.

  She squatted, clutching a wooden talisman that Stay-long kept suspended from a thong. Could Pig-bone's people defend themselves? she wondered. She had never seen them fight.

  Tepua did not know how to call on the aid of the spirits who lingered in the house above her, nor would she dare attempt such a dangerous feat. Where was the tahutahu she wondered furiously. Tepua could only pray to her own gods, and she did not know if they would help Stay-long's people.

  After a short while she was startled to hear voices calling her. "You have a visitor, Tepua," came several cries. "Where are you hiding?"

  Was the danger past? These did not seem the voices of people who were under attack. She pulled herself to her feet and brushed off a few clinging leaves. Visitor? A hope struggled within. Perhaps Matopahu had managed to find her. She imagined his look of astonishment when he saw her huge belly....

  No. That was not what she wanted. He would only make her problem worse. But what other visitor could she have? Aitofa? Curling-leaf? Eye-to-heaven? Or someone she would not welcome at all?

  She made her way cautiously around the house platform. Peering from behind the cover of a bush, she saw a crowd gathered in front of Pig-bone's house. The weapons had been put aside and everyone seemed at ease. She saw small gifts—wristlets, earrings, implements made of seashells— passing from hand to hand. Men and women chattered in excited, high-pitched voices.

  Then Tepua caught sight of the newcomer and almost fainted in surprise and dismay. She sank to her knees and gave a soft moan. Pehu-pehu!

  Her thoughts raced back to the times when she had seen parties of Arioi foraging for food in the hills. Despite all her caution, she knew now that someone had spotted her. The news had reached the Blackleg.

  In panic, Tepua clutched at her stomach, and wondered if she could escape. She recalled the cave that she and Maukiri had discovered long ago. If Maukiri helped her...Tepua tried to remember where her cousin had gone. Gathering arrowroot. She might be away all afternoon.

  Her mind whirling, Tepua wondered what else she could do. Without someone to scout the way, she could not slip out of the settlement. And if she showed herself, there would be no escaping the Blackleg. Pehu-pehu already had ingratiated herself with the important people of the settlement. Now they were obliged to make her their guest.

  But what was the Blackleg's purpose in coming here? Tepua and Aitofa had argued about Pehu-pehu's motives, never reaching a conclusion. The interloper had always claimed to be acting in the best interests of the troupe. Perhaps Pehu-pehu had no intention of harming Tepua. Perhaps she only wanted to make an end to Matopahu's heir....

  Hoping that Maukiri might appear, Tepua remained in hiding. But voices kept calling for her; children kept poking about in the undergrowth. At last someone found her and told the others.

  Feeling both foolish and angry, Tepua emerged, to be ushered by a boisterous crowd
into Stay-long's house. "Your good friend is here," people kept telling her. "You will be so happy when you see her."

  When Tepua stepped inside, she saw the Blackleg seated in a circle of admiring women. She bit her lip in anger and held back her words. Until now, these women had been Tepua's friends! Had they deserted her for bits of glossy shell?

  Pehu-pehu greeted Tepua as if they had the warmest feelings for each other. Tepua tried not to flinch from the visitor's embrace. "You have filled out," the Blackleg said with a laugh. "No one can call you a skinny atoll vahine anymore."

  "Your friend has agreed to stay with us," the headman's wife said excitedly. Tepua managed to mumble a few words of acknowledgment. What would Maukiri think? It did not matter. Pehu-pehu had arrived, and there was no easy way to get rid of her. If Tepua could only have a private word with Stay-long, perhaps she could explain.

  But the headman's wife seemed entranced by the new guest, as did her many relatives and friends. The women pooled their resources and began preparing a huge meal. Tepua was astonished to see the Blackleg pitch in, gutting brook fish as if she were a common manahune. Never before had Tepua seen this woman at domestic labor. Pehu-pehu had always been surrounded by servants and novices who hurried to carry out her wishes.

  While the food baked in the umu, the new visitor demonstrated the dances of the Arioi. Tepua recalled wistfully how she had done the same in her early days here. Now she had to watch, holding back her resentment, while the Blackleg captured the attention of everyone present. Her hand movements were perfect; her heavy legs moved with precision. And when she did rapid hip rolls, everyone shouted with glee.

  Just as the dancing ended, Maukiri returned from her foraging trip along with several young relatives of the headman. Her face was damp with sweat, her hands and arms grimy from digging up roots. When she saw what was going on, she rushed to Tepua. "This is a nightmare, cousin," Maukiri said. "I am asleep and dreaming."