by Rex Sumner
the Reef Guardian making no attempt to hide what they had done. He asked the prisoners to tell what they had done, and Hinatea stepped forward and recounted the fishing trip, in simple, stark terms that were the more dramatic for their brevity. Pat looked up briefly when she admitted they had not taken a grandfather before, but had the stories of their forefathers. Under questioning from the Ratu, she revealed the sad tale of Moana’s end which made Pat blink.
Asmara didn’t think the questioning very thorough, but on the other hand it wasn’t as if the facts were in dispute. She wondered if it would be possible to save Pat, appreciating that the prisoners were clearly reconciled to receiving a death penalty, each handling the thought in their own way, Rat very badly.
There was a slight commotion in the crowd, as a tall youth stood up, immediately followed by another from a different location. The Ratu frowned at them, but they picked their way through the seated watchers and stood beside Pat. The first was Maru, and he looked at the Ratu and spoke in Vituan. The Ratu looked pained briefly, but nodded.
“Maru and Wiwik just claimed responsibility for Pat and the others breaking tabu,” Suzanne whispered to the Princess. “Say they will share their punishment, they should have been with them. Makes it hard for the Ratu.”
“Brave boys,” whispered back the Princess, her eyes full of unshed tears.
The Ratu closed the questioning abruptly and stood. He turned to the crowd and spoke at length in Vituan. They all nodded their heads and made gestures of approval. From the corner of her eye, Asmara noted Suzanne trying not to smile and wondered. The Ratu switched to the trade language, looking Asmara straight in the eye.
“I blame myself for this incident,” he surprisingly announced. “It is a misunderstanding caused by being different peoples. It often happens, and I should have foreseen it. Our peoples are too alike, we think the same way and get on together so well that we forget how different you are.
“In future, all visitors to our island who leave the town must have a Vituan accompanying them, to ensure they understand the correct customs. This will ensure no repetition of this affair nor the breaking of tabu.
“Now we must hear the words of the Bete who will decide the soro, what must be done to placate the gods.” The Great Ratu sat down heavily, his guards remained standing on either side.
For a moment there was silence. A lone, quavering voice split it, an old man at the back raising his voice in song. One by one, others joined in, till most were singing, but not the Ratu nor his guards. Tears were rolling down Suzanne’s face, though she didn’t bother to translate, and Asmara could see many tear-bedewed cheeks amongst the Vituan women. As the song went on, the Ratu slumped slightly where he was sitting, and with his frame diminishing, the Princess’ hopes followed. Desperately, she searched for a way to save the fishermen.
The Bure Kalou was a peculiar building, built on a bed of rocks themselves higher than a man. A ladder led up to the entrance, simply a woven bamboo screen in the front wall. The building on the rocks was a simple narrow box with a roof like a tall, thin pyramid, not much smaller at the top than the bottom and about twice as high as it was across. The screen moved slightly and a head stuck out from behind it. The figure came out from the room, turned and came backwards down the ladder to the ground. The Princess looked at the Bete with interest.
He was a mature man, but slightly younger than the Ratu, she guessed. Unlike the Ratu, he was thin, and his hair was quite short. He wore an elaborate grass skirt, and his chest was painted with an intricate red and white design. A long snake of woven leaves was around his neck and trailing down on either side of his chest.
He ignored the foreigners and made his way to stand in front of the Ratu.
“The Guardian of the Reef is an Elder God, a Kalou Vu. An insult to him is an insult to all Gods,” the Bete said abruptly in Vituan. “I shall tell his story.” A sigh went up from the audience. Suzanne translated his words for the Princess and the Captain, and she noted that Maru was doing the same for the fishermen.
“Kaduvu looked down on the kai Viti and he was pleased. He enjoyed the daughters of the kai Viti and fathered the line of the Great Ratu. He knew that the shark god, Dakuwaqa, was hunting for victims and determined to protect his people. He entered the body of a Giant Octopus, and waited by the entrance to the reef. Dakuwaqa came to the reef, swimming swiftly to come in and go up the river to eat the kai Viti. Kaduvu grabbed him with four tentacles as he went past, using the other four tentacles to hang onto the rocks of the reef. Dakuwaqa was a proud god! He was strong, he was big, he was fierce; he beat every god he faced. But he could not beat Kaduvu.
“Kaduvu squeezed him till the great god yelled, and cried for mercy. Kaduvu kept squeezing, until Dakuwaqa cried that if Kaduvu released him, he would never eat the kai Viti again. Kaduvu thought about that, and decided it was good. He released Dakuwaqa who swam away immediately.
“Since that day, no kai Viti has been eaten by a shark and we can swim where we like in these islands, safe from sharks.”
The Bete seemed to have grown while telling his tale, and was striding around the sand in front of the rapt villagers. He was working himself into a rage, and pointed dramatically at the fishermen.
“Desecrators!” he shouted. “Murderers! Our Guardian has gone and we are not safe to fish and swim in the sea!” A murmur went through the crowd, and Hinatea’s eyes flashed angrily as Maru translated. She took a step forward, Silmatea a step behind her. She reached up, put a hand in the collar of her rough shirt, and yanked, ripping it off and leaving her naked. Silmatea did the same. Standing tall and proud in her national costume, Hinatea spoke to the amazed and horrified Bete in the trade language, which he did not understand.
“I swim where I want and I am safe from shark because I good swimmer and shark killer. Grandfather is not god. Is food and dangerous fish. Stupid tabu. I think you wrong, stupid man, not speak to gods.”
The Bete didn’t understand but was inflating rapidly and turning purple at the flagrant disrespect and heresy of this awful girl standing naked in the sight of the gods. An assistant whispered a translation to him, and he understood why the Ratu was trying to hide a smile.
The Bete snatched up a war club from a nearby warrior and stalked towards Hinatea, his mouth working uncontrollably. Hinatea watched him come, a slight smile on her face and turned slightly so she was side on, ready. Pat and Silmatea moved up slightly on either side of her, Maru and Wiwik just behind them. The two Kai Viti blanching in terror at how the gods would respond, but staying with their friends.
The Bete suddenly whirled in a circle, the war club went flying into the crowd where it was caught by a warrior, and he collapsed on the ground, his body humping and shuffling while he frothed at the mouth and screamed inarticulately.
The crowd gave a great shout, and Maru whispered to Hinatea, “The god takes him.”
The Bete twisted horribly on the ground, then pulled himself to his feet, and looked at Hinatea. His eyes were turned in on themselves so only the white showed, and despite herself, Hinatea took a step backwards.
The Bete spoke. In the trade language.
“You are right, brave girl from faraway. He does not speak to me. But I can use his body to speak, which is why he is a Bete.” The voice of the god was rough and dark, but it had depth, substance and rolled around the village and the beach. Many in the crowd threw themselves face down. The god had not spoken like this in living memory. Usually he took the Bete is a far less dramatic fashion, and spoke very respectfully of the Bete.
“I did beat Dakuwaqa and my people are free of sharks as a result. But I do not live in the octopus, the Grandfather as you name it like my cousin does. If I did you would not have killed him. But his death called me and here I am. That is the true purpose of the Guardian of the Reef, which the Bete must remember in future.” He turned from the fishermen and spoke to the crowd and to the Ratu. “He
ar me, Ratu, Great Grandson. Killing the Guardian is not tabu. You must do it every five years, and replace him with a young one. I will enjoy the contest. It must be done as the girl did it, with no weapon. And afterwards the victors must walk the stones in my honour. As these ones will. Their Vituan friends will walk with them to show the way. They will walk tonight, and then I shall know the girl.”
There was a stunned silence, before Hinatea stepped forward. “Oh Great Kadavu, I am honoured that you select me. Please know that I am under a geas from my own Gods, to travel the world and protect another, important to our Gods. While the geas is upon me, I cannot bear a child.”
The God laughed. “Wise as well as beautiful. Very well, Ratu, you will send your youngest wife to accompany this girl and she will bear the next Ratu so I strengthen the line.” He looked down at the Bete’s emaciated chest. “I shall choose another vicar tonight, maybe even you, Ratu.” And the Bete slumped to the ground like a rag doll.
The silence stretched. It was broken by Pat, who spoke low to Maru but loud enough for all to hear.
“What did he mean by walking the stones, Maru?”
“The blessed of the Gods walk over fire as a ritual,” answered Maru, still staring at the Bete. “We cannot
