The Fire Blossom

by Lark, Sarah

  That day, a second rabbit was already packed in Cat’s leather hunting bag. The women were about to make their way back to the pa when Chasseur barked at a bush once more. But there were no animals hiding in it. As Cat and Ida stepped closer, they could hear voices.

  “Maori,” Cat said with surprise and called out a joyful greeting. “Kia ora. Haere mai. Don’t worry, we weren’t shooting at you.”

  The Maori came out looking indignant.

  “Ariki Te Kahungunu is not scared,” their leader explained in a firm voice. “Just as his warriors are not!”

  Ida was terrified by the man with blue moko covering his entire face and traditional warrior’s garb. Cat, on the other hand, recognized the chieftain and the small, elderly woman with her loose white hair who had offered her hospitality on the first expedition. She was dressed in European clothing now, but the hei tiki she carried, her shell jewelry, and her ornamental cloak marked her as a dignitary of her tribe. She was the tohunga who had shown Ottfried and Gibson the sites that were sacred to her people. The two Maori dignitaries were accompanied by four warriors who were all armed with spears, clubs, and shotguns. Cat felt a sense of foreboding.

  “No one assumed any such thing,” she assured the ariki. “Te Kahungunu wouldn’t even be afraid of an entire tribe full of enemies, and neither would his warriors or tohunga Harata, who is protected by spirits.”

  Cat made a deferential bow and stepped forward to exchange hongi with the tribal elder. By now they must have seen Linda on her back. Whether they had been afraid or not, they certainly wouldn’t believe that two women with their children were on the warpath.

  The elder said something.

  “Could you translate, please?” Ida asked Cat nervously. She was still clutching her weapon and fighting the impulse to level it at the Maori. But she knew that would have been all wrong.

  “Harata says she came because the spirits are angry,” Cat translated and turned back to the tohunga. “This troubles us,” she told Harata in Maori. “But what can we do to appease them? Is it my friend’s gun? We did not wish to anger or threaten anyone.” She raised her hands and opened the hunting bag slowly. “We were only hunting the animals the pakeha brought to Aotearoa, which have since multiplied in numbers as great as the stars in the sky.”

  “Is it because we’re living in the pa?” Ida asked. “Did they come to make us leave or to demand some kind of payment?”

  Cat shook her head and motioned for her to be quiet. “They aren’t here because of the pa. This is a completely different tribe; they live six days’ walk from here. And I know them, which is why I’m telling you not to worry. They must have reason to come here armed. But we’re not in immediate danger.”

  “We would like to invite you to share our meal with us,” Cat said, turning back to the natives. “We can make a fire right here. But will you not exchange hongi with us?”

  The chieftain spoke a few sharp-sounding words.

  “The chieftain says he doesn’t want to sit by the fire with us,” Cat said. “He says there is no peace between him and our men. He has come to make a complaint, and he wants to know where Joe and Ottfried are.”

  She spoke a few quiet words to the chieftain, who replied with an explanation. Cat interpreted for Ida.

  “There was trouble with the land they sold to Ottfried and Joe. First, it seemed that nobody wanted it. Then Mr. Butler came—they’re calling him Rudia, so I assume his name is Rudyard or something like that. Anyway, they got along with him until he plowed the land on one of their holy sites and let his sheep graze on another. But Ottfried and Joe had promised them that the settlers would respect the tapu. They confronted Mr. Butler about it, but he had no idea what they were talking about. Now Butler wants to take the case to the governor. But Te Kahungunu won’t accept that. He says it wasn’t the governor who made him promises, it was Joe and Ottfried. And me, of course. I translated, which I just apologized for three times. I hope they believe that I mean what I’m saying. Besides, the spirits won’t wait until the governor has reached a decision. They have to be appeased, and under no circumstances are there to be any further breaches of tapu. That’s why they’re here. They want to confront the men.”

  “Did you tell them that Ottfried and Joe aren’t here?” Ida asked.

  Cat nodded. “They want to wait, or go looking for them. There’s another thing too; they found out that they’d been cheated. Butler alone paid ten times as much for his little square of land as the tribe got for everything together.”

  The Maori raised their spears menacingly.

  Ida rubbed her forehead. “What can we do now?” she asked unhappily. Carol was stirring, and she hoped the little one wouldn’t start crying.

  Cat shrugged. “First, we should exchange gifts. Maybe they’ll accept some of our food. But I don’t want to bring them to the pa, because then they’d see another breach of tapu. Harata would surely be angry. And we need to consider if we should send them to Port Cooper or not.”

  “Everybody lower your weapons!” A male voice cut through the air, clear and decisive.

  Cat, Ida, and the Maori were all startled. In their heated discussion, none of them had noticed the rider approaching from the direction of the pa who was now pointing a hunting rifle at Te Kahungunu and his people.

  “Karl!”

  Ida forgot the Maori and their predicament at once. Nothing was important anymore. In front of her, on the chestnut gelding he called Brandy, was Karl Jensch.

  “Where did you come from? How did you find me?”

  Her eyes were already sparkling.

  The tohunga said a few words to Cat, who shook her head in reply. “No, that’s not her husband. Her husband is Ottie. But you’re right, there’s a glow between the two of them. They must be, uh, old friends.”

  One of the warriors laughed. “Just like Kupe and Kuramarotini were friends before he killed her husband and took her to Aotearoa?”

  Cat suppressed a smile. “No, not like that, I think. More like friends who used to play together as children.”

  Harata looked from Karl to Ida and back again. “They are not children anymore,” she said. “What does the man want? He carries a weapon, but I see no wish to fight in his eyes.”

  “What’s going on here?” Karl asked.

  He still had his weapon pointed at the strangers, but they didn’t seem to be taking the threat too seriously. The old woman was conferring with the young blonde woman, whom he now recognized as the translator from Wairau. Poti. Chris Fenroy’s Cat.

  “Are these people threatening you, Ida?”

  Ida could only stare at Karl. He was still slender, but stronger than he’d been. It didn’t look as though he’d had to go without food during the last two years. His chin-length blond curls framed his face, and he had a short beard that made him look manlier. The twinkling eyes that had always given him a boyish look were unchanged. She thought he must spend a lot of time outside, since his face was tanned and weathered.

  “No,” Cat replied instead. “Nobody’s threatening anyone here. You’ve misunderstood. Please, Mr. Jensch—you’re Karl Jensch, aren’t you? Please put the rifle away. These people have a bone to pick with Ottfried, but they have nothing against Ida and the children, and they won’t hurt me either. Don’t make these people into enemies; that could put us all in danger.”

  Karl nodded and immediately lowered his weapon.

  When the chieftain answered by thumping his spear on the ground, Karl put the rifle away for good and showed him the palms of his hands in a gesture of surrender.

  “Mo taku he. I’m sorry,” he said. “Kia ora. I only wanted—”

  Tohunga Harata spoke a few placating words to Te Kahungunu. He answered with a grunt.

  “Harata told him you only wanted to protect Ida,” Cat said. “But the chieftain is still angry.”

  Karl thought for a moment. Then he took his valuable waxed coat that had been draped over the saddle behind him, got off his horse, a
nd laid it down in front of Te Kahungunu very carefully, not coming too close. On the North Island, ariki were considered untouchable. These people didn’t seem to be quite so strict, but he didn’t want to risk making another mistake.

  “Please, Cat, tell them I ask for their forgiveness and offer this gift as compensation.”

  Cat smiled appreciatively. “You just asked for forgiveness very nicely yourself.”

  She spoke to the Maori, and Karl and Ida took a relieved breath as Te Kahungunu replied with a nod.

  “He asked if you know Ottfried and Joe,” Cat said. “And if you’re a friend of theirs.”

  Karl raised his hands defensively. “Hoa nohea,” he tried in Maori, “never friends. But I saw them in Port Cooper yesterday,” he said, turning to Cat. “And these folks aren’t the only ones angry. It seems a few of their clients feel they’ve been cheated. One of them’s hired a very fancy lawyer from Wellington.”

  “Ottfried’s in trouble?” Ida asked.

  “Joe and O-ttie in Te whaka raupo?” the chieftain said, interrupting her. “Place pakeha call Port Cooper?”

  Karl nodded. “In one of the pubs there, I assume. Ottfried, at least. Gibson is supposedly on his way to Nelson.”

  Te Kahungunu said something to his followers, and they readied themselves for departure. Harata said something to Cat and then turned to leave as well.

  Cat was relieved but also chagrinned as she translated for Karl and Ida. “The chieftain and his people are going to Port Cooper now to speak to the men. They understand that you, Karl, have nothing to do with all this. They’re a little angry at me for mediating the deal. Harata says I should have known better. That I compromised myself by working with them. She’s not wrong. I agreed with her and promised to cleanse myself. But she says the spirits were already placated when they saw you smile at Karl, Ida. You please them with your happiness.”

  Chapter 53

  “How did you find me?”

  Karl slid down from his saddle. “I heard you were in Purau.”

  He wondered what was wrong with his voice. It sounded flat and unsure, as though he were only having the conversation in his dreams. And yet here he was, in a sunny clearing surrounded by rata bushes, and in front of him was Ida, looking even more beautiful than he remembered. She had changed, had become a little more womanly. Her splendid hair wasn’t pinned up but gathered in a long, thick braid. Instead of the high-necked, austere clothing of the Lutheran villagers, she wore a pale blue cotton dress. It was worn and dirty, but the color suited her eyes and was a pretty contrast to her slightly tanned face. This wasn’t a woman who spent her life hunched, in summer over garden beds or in winter over needlework, anymore. Ida looked up at him—and he noticed the weapon in her hand.

  “Ida, were you shooting? I was at your farm—the Redwoods showed me the way. I came here after I heard the gunshot. But I would never have thought . . . Did you shoot at those Maori?”

  Smiling, Cat pulled out one of the rabbits. “No, she only shot at this, or we’d be dead by now.”

  Awed, Karl took a step closer to the woman he had been dreaming of all his life. “Ida, you must tell me about yourself. How have you been? I thought you were in Australia. But then I met Elsbeth, and she told me you were here. I came straightaway.”

  Ida put away the weapon, and Karl took her hands into his. They were cold as ice.

  Carol began to whimper with worry. Then Chasseur barked. During the confrontation with the Maori, he had held back. The dog had good survival instincts. He seemed prepared to protect his mistress from one man, but not from half an army.

  His warning yap coaxed Buddy out from behind Karl’s horse. The puppy wagged its tail at the larger dog. Chasseur growled, and the fur on his neck stood up menacingly.

  “Chasseur, stop it! He’s just a baby!”

  Ida and Karl noticed none of it. As their hands touched, the circle seemed to close. They gazed into each other’s eyes for the space of a few heartbeats. Then Ida squared her shoulders.

  “Why?” she asked and pulled her hands away slowly.

  Karl’s brow creased. “Why what?”

  “Why did you come? I mean, I’m happy to see you. But you didn’t need to travel just—just to see me.”

  Ida took Carol in her arms before the whimpering could turn into full-blown tears. Rocking the child also gave her a reason to tear her eyes away from Karl.

  “I wanted to see how you were doing,” Karl answered. “You and—Ottfried.”

  Ida bowed her head. “I’m fine,” she said mechanically. “We’re fine. As you can see, we have a—we have children. Twins.”

  Karl looked at the children in surprise. He had assumed the child in Cat’s carrier was hers. But when he looked again, he realized the children were both blonde and doubtlessly the same age.

  “Mr. Jensch,” Cat said, “I’m certain Ida would love to tell you everything that’s happened since you were separated. But now we need to take the children home to be fed. Carol’s sure to start screaming any moment, and—”

  “Carol? One of them is named Carol?”

  And now, Ida’s motherly pride outweighed her reluctance. “Karla,” she said. “After—after Ottfried’s grandfather.”

  Karl’s smile faltered.

  “And the other one’s Linda,” Ida added quickly, as though she were setting something to rights.

  “Você é linda,” Karl said softly, gazing at Ida.

  “We should really go now,” Cat prompted, but Ida remained silent as she looked up one more time at Karl. A skyful of stars sparkled between them.

  “Cat’s right,” Ida said before she could get lost in those eyes again. “We have to go. Are you going to join us?”

  “I don’t want to put you to any trouble,” Karl said formally.

  Cat rolled her eyes. “You don’t really want to pitch your tent here somewhere and eat old bread instead of joining us at the house for some roast rabbit, do you?” she asked, laughing. “Considering that you’ve crossed mountains and seas just to see Ida again. Where did you find Betty, anyway?”

  Of course Karl followed the women home. They put Brandy in the barn, and Chasseur didn’t object to Buddy lying down next to him by the fire.

  “That’s a sheepdog, isn’t it?” Ida asked and petted the little dog. “The Redwoods have a similar one. But you don’t have any sheep.”

  Karl laughed. “I do, actually,” he said, and told them about his recent purchase.

  As they talked, Cat prepared the meal, glancing over at her friend nervously. Ida had wanted to help her with the cooking, but Cat had insisted that she should sit down with Karl. Still, Ida tried frantically not to let the conversation become too personal. She preferred to talk about sheep, dogs, and his years surveying on the North Island.

  Karl played along calmly. Ida’s house and her surroundings probably answered many of his questions anyway. Ida might keep insisting that she was fine, but she lived in a roughly repaired Maori meetinghouse in a derelict pa. Cat was cooking on an open fire that gave off sooty smoke because the chimney didn’t draw well. The house probably barely even got warm in winter, and the women’s clothing was hardly more than rags. The furniture was sparse and rudimentary. Ottfried, being a carpenter, could have done far better, but apparently he didn’t care to. The only lovingly crafted piece of furniture was the crib that Ida and Cat had put the children in. It had been lathed with care, and on the headboard, the name Brandmann was carved in fine letters.

  “It’s supposed to last for all future generations born in this country,” Ida murmured as Karl praised the craftsmanship.

  She didn’t elaborate, but Karl understood. Of course Ottfried had been thinking of a son when he’d built the crib. He was probably rather disappointed in the two little girls.

  Karl wondered what Cat was doing with the Brandmanns. According to Betty, Ottfried had employed her as a maid in Sankt Pauli Village, but here, surely, there was no need for one.

  Karl decided to a
sk Cat or Ida about it later, but at the moment, he didn’t want to stir up the tense atmosphere. Ida was shy. She was probably ashamed of her humble home, but she wouldn’t tell the truth about it, of course. Raben Steinfeld and Jakob Lange were too strong in her. She still wouldn’t say a word against Ottfried either.

  But she didn’t need to. Cat finally put the roast rabbit and a bottle of whiskey on the kitchen table. She knew exactly where Ottfried kept his reserves. Now she poured them all a generous glass, and although Ida abstained, the alcohol loosened Karl’s and Cat’s tongues. Karl told them about his work on the North Island, and then about Betty and Eric, whom he’d also gone to see. Eric was still too young to find decently paid work, but he’d be able to get by a little longer with Betty’s help. She’d been very lucky with her job at the café. Karl had gone back and met Celine, the owner.

  “The lady, who is quite honorable these days, earned the money to start her business as a ‘lady of the evening.’ It was pretty funny how Betty struggled to euphemize it. Nowadays she’s a pillar of Wellington society. Don’t look at me like that, Ida, it’s no easy feat for a single woman in this country to make a living. Celine probably had no other choice than to sell her body; she made the best of it. And now she’s protecting Betty’s innocence like a lioness. I think she sees her as a kind of daughter. Your sister couldn’t have it better.”

  Ida pressed her lips together. She couldn’t imagine what her mother would have said about a former prostitute being Elsbeth’s new guardian. Let alone what her father would say.

  Karl steered the subject toward Cat’s confusing presence. “You worked for Beit, didn’t you? Chris Fenroy told me about that. He was always sorry that he couldn’t find a more suitable job for you.”