by Sarah Lark
“I have to go,” Irene said with an unhappy glance at the remaining whiskey. “If I drink any more, I won’t be able to get anything done tomorrow. Would you like to come with me then to look for gold? Alone, you’ll hardly be able to find enough for the two of you.”
Chapter 37
Te Ua Haumene assigned Eru, Kepa, and Tamati to accompany a group of warriors whose job it was to preach his gospel on the east side of the North Island. It would be a long journey, and the three young men’s duty was to mediate if they met pakeha. The warriors were to act assimilated and friendly, and perhaps to pretend they were members of the Maori auxiliary forces. The prophet ordered them to dress in pakeha clothing.
“I don’t want to do anything like the pakeha!” raged Kereopa Te Rau, who was supposed to lead the expedition with Patara Raukatauri.
These two men had been Hauhau warriors from the very beginning, and had often been called prophets themselves. Kereopa, in particular, was a compelling speaker, and he burned with hatred for the pakeha. In the previous year, his wife, children, and sister had died in battle with General Cameron’s troops. Their deaths had added to his rage.
“You can’t order me to crawl on my hands and knees in front of them,” he cried.
Alarmed, Eru tried to edge away from Kereopa. He had spent the past few days close to the prophet and had quickly realized how much the prophet disliked it when anyone contradicted him or even asked questions. That shocked the young Ngai Tahu man. The elders in his tribe had always encouraged young people’s thirst for knowledge. Every question was permitted and welcomed, and if the elders couldn’t provide answers, they turned to the gods and spirits. After all, not even a tohunga could know all of the gods’ plans. That was no shame to the priests and priestesses.
By contrast, Te Ua Haumene’s behavior reminded Eru of the missionaries in Tuahiwi. They, too, had reacted harshly when he had asked questions, and they valued blind faith above knowledge. Fortunately, the prophet did not lash out at Kereopa Te Rau. Perhaps he saw the old warrior more as a peer than as a student.
“Then you should use the power of your faith and make yourself invisible,” Te Ua replied. “Don’t forget, Kereopa, the most important thing is to reach the tribes in the east. Many of them have never heard about us, or at least have never been part of our movement. It’s your task to win them over. If you have to adapt to the situation or conceal yourself in the process, it’s for the good of our cause. Only together as one people can we effectively fight against the pakeha.”
Kereopa snorted. He had thick dark hair, a wild beard, large eyes, and elaborate tattoos around his nose and on his forehead.
“If we meet any pakeha along the way, they will meet the same end as these here!” he declared and reached for a sack that his friend Patara had been carrying.
Eru and his companions started with shock as he pulled out the head of a pakeha soldier. They’d heard that the Hauhau had revived the old tradition of cutting off enemies’ heads and keeping them as trophies. So far, he’d only seen one such horrible souvenir, and now he shuddered at the sight of the shrunken, smoke-tanned face. Kereopa held the head aloft by its blond hair. There seemed to be more in the bag.
“These men were trying to destroy our fields at Ahuahu,” he said, grinning at the young men who had gone pale beneath their tattoos. “One year ago. We stopped them and took seven heads.”
Eru fought back a wave of nausea. He thanked all the gods when his leader put the head back into the sack.
The prophet watched without any indication of disgust, but his eyes were stern. “Kereopa, you know this is a peaceful assignment. We are bringing the good news to our people. They must hear the words of Tama-Rura and Riki. They must believe in the Promised Land full of peace and love that we intend to turn Aotearoa into as soon as the pakeha are gone. Waging war is our duty, not our wish. We kill without mercy, but also without joy.”
Kereopa shrugged. “Dead is dead, Te Ua.” It was clear that the old warrior wasn’t afraid of his prophet. “The more pakeha we can kill, the better. Killing them is our most important task, and that’s what I will tell people. We can talk about peace and love later. Or as far as I care, you can let your precious little missionary students handle that.”
He nodded to Eru, Tamati, and Kepa. Ever since hearing about Eru’s experience in Tuahiwi, Kereopa had regarded the trio with mistrust. He also disapproved of their role as translators. In his opinion, no mediation was necessary. In spite of the long and dangerous journey during which they were supposed to be as inconspicuous as possible, he was determined to rely on his fighting skills instead of camouflage.
The prophet didn’t join in with his hard laughter, but instead looked at Eru and his friends earnestly. “You heard,” he said. “Kereopa has given you a task. He will preach war, and you will preach peace. Here—” Te Ua got up and fetched a beautiful, leather-bound volume of his gospel. “Read it again during your journey, learn it by heart, and preach it to the people.”
“Will they listen?” Kepa asked.
Te Ua glared at him. “If you believe in the power of the archangel’s words, then you will be able to convey them to others as well. It’s your belief alone that counts. He will make you invulnerable. He will make your voice as loud as thunder and your words as sweet as manuka honey. But if you doubt—”
“I—I have no doubt!” Kepa said, reassuring him.
The prophet nodded. “Then you will leave tomorrow.”
The next day the three young men learned to appreciate Kereopa Te Rau and his warriors. The missionary group crossed the pakeha-occupied Whanganui district and entered the volcanic landscape surrounding Tongariro without seeing one white face. In spite of his lust to kill, Kereopa did obey the prophet’s orders. He turned himself invisible even without the help of the Hauhau incantations. His warriors simply slipped noiselessly through the forests, seemed more to sense the pakeha patrols than to see them, and melted into the bushes and trees as soon as the whites were at all close.
Eru and his companions still had much to learn, but Kereopa and Patara turned out to be good teachers and skilled leaders. After the rocky start to their relationship, Eru had feared that they would be dogged with insults and sarcasm throughout the journey. But Kereopa restrained himself. It seemed not to bother him that Te Ua had entrusted the young men with the missionary duties that had originally been intended for him. Apparently, he wasn’t particularly interested in preaching. He also left them in peace when they practiced their speeches along the way, learning Te Ua Haumene’s gospel almost by heart. But it proved impossible to read the book at night around the fire, as Eru had planned. As long as they were in pakeha territory, no fire was lit. The warriors didn’t hunt either, but instead ate the provisions they’d brought with them—smoked fish and meat and flatbread. But Eru had problems with the fish. Whenever he tried to soften a piece of the smoked meat in his mouth, he couldn’t help but think of the smoked heads in Patara’s sack.
Kereopa only began to relax a little once the forests lay behind them. The volcanic landscape surrounding Tongariro had very sparse vegetation. One could see far even when heavy clouds built up on the horizon and broke into torrential rain, as happened almost every day. Eru, Kepa, and Tamati were happy about their leader’s decision to travel wearing traditional warrior garb instead of disguising themselves with pakeha clothing. With bare upper bodies, they were cold during the downpours, but dried again quickly when it stopped. The skirts made of raupo fiber didn’t absorb the water at all.
The first Maori tribe the men met was living on the shore of Lake Taupo, and was still largely unmolested by the pakeha. A beautiful, hilly, forested landscape opened out behind the marae. In front of it were the waters of the largest lake on Aotearoa, a rich source of fish for the Ngati Tuwharetoa. The residents of the marae regarded the strange warriors skeptically at first, but then welcomed them and served fresh fish as well as sweet potatoes and grain from the surrounding fields. The land here w
as fertile. It was only a question of time before the pakeha would attempt to steal it.
That was the crux of Kereopa’s message when he began to tell the curious people about the Hauhau movement. In his sermon, the archangels played a lesser role, and he spoke more about invulnerability, combat strength, courage, and the will for victory.
“And now Te Eriatara will tell you more about our prophet’s visions,” he said finally.
The tribe’s young men were already won over. They stared at the smoked pakeha heads with equal amounts of disgust and fascination. Patara had arranged them around the fire after the sun had set. The light danced eerily around the sunken eye sockets and the twisted mouths of the dead.
“Jehovah, Tama-Rura, and Riki have banished their spirits,” the people whispered.
It was clear to Eru that he could not preach only peace and love in this setting, so he began his speech with a warlike quote from the Bible: “‘For they have sown the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind.’”
He spoke of the wind that Te Ua Haumene had conjured, the prophet’s visions of a free Aotearoa, and the chosen people. He encouraged his listeners to join in with chants of hau hau and mai merire, and was rewarded with a nod of acknowledgment from Kereopa. Only at the end did he speak briefly about peace and love among the tribes.
“Tama-Rura and Riki and Jehovah and his Son all want Aotearoa to be unified. Now in war, and later in peace. We can only win together. And only together can we realize the prophet’s greatest vision: eternal life in a land where milk and honey flow! Rire rire, hau hau!”
“You added in the part about eternal life, didn’t you?” Tamati whispered to Eru after he’d sat down with his friends again.
Eru shrugged. “Well, if we’re already invulnerable, then how would we die?”
Kereopa and Patara hadn’t noticed the deviation from Te Ua Haumene’s vision, and the Ngati Tuwharetoa accepted it all. The next morning, they erected a niu to the delight of everyone. Only a female tribal elder and a few tohunga were unconvinced. Patara won the approval of the men of the council of elders by showing them the pakeha heads. Eru finally understood the trophies’ full purpose. The head-hunting reminded some of the old men of the glory days of their youths when the tribes of the North Island had still fought bitterly with each other. Back then, they had often taken the heads of their enemies and put them on display.
By bringing the old traditions back to life, the Hauhau warriors presented themselves as defenders of the old ways. Their new gods and strange prayers would be more easily forgiven if they could encourage the young people to be enthusiastic about battle again. It was difficult for many of the old warriors to see the younger generation preferring to trade with the settlers instead of honoring the spirits. They didn’t like to see a young man learning English instead of proving himself in battle, or a girl primping in pakeha clothing. Most of the young people no longer saw their neighboring tribes as enemies, but as friends with whom they could discuss land prices or gossip about the strange traditions of the pakeha.
But now the young warriors were dancing excitedly around the niu. They listened with their eyes gleaming to Kereopa’s and Patara’s stories of triumphant battles, and began to arm themselves to join the Hauhau. Eru and his companions realized quickly that their mission would succeed in mustering troops for Te Ua Haumene.
As with the first tribe, in every other iwi that Kereopa and his people visited, numerous young warriors decided to join the cause. Some chieftains weren’t happy about it, and many women spoke out against it. But their arguments were ignored or invalidated in strange ways.
“Yes, your young warriors will go west,” Patara had said. “But they will return as men, as soon as we conquer the pakeha.”
“And what shall we do until then?” a woman asked pointedly. “Who will defend our tribe until then? Who will marry our girls? Who will father our children?”
Patara laughed. “Daughter, you don’t need a man for each one of you. Te Ua sees not only the future in his visions, but also Aotearoa’s past. In the golden days, when we were still Moas and could remember hunting on the beaches of Hawaiki, there was more than one wife for every warrior. They lived in happiness and peace together. So be humble and remember a time long past that will surely come again. Rire rire, hau hau!”
The startled woman fell silent while the men rejoiced at the prospect of polygamy in the Promised Land. But Eru felt only embarrassment. Mara wouldn’t want to share him with another woman, and he couldn’t imagine loving more than one either.
Some of the young women wanted to accompany their men westward, and Kereopa didn’t try to stop them. Eru wondered if he remembered the old days of female warriors, or if he just wanted to leave the decision up to the prophet. In any case, the missionaries wasted no further thoughts on the future of the troops they had recruited. The next day, they simply continued to the next tribe. Before Aotearoa could be unified, many nius had to be raised.
When they arrived in Rotorua, where boiling hot springs shot geysers into the sky, Kereopa convened the group.
“We have arrived at our goal,” he announced. “From now on, we will not only seek out the tribes we meet along the way, but proselytize to the entire coastal area. To do that, we will split up. Patara, young Eru, and I will go to Whakatane and then continue to Opotiki along the coast. The others will stay inland and go to Ruatahuna and the Wairoa valley.”
The men, and above all Kepa and Tamati, looked shocked. Kepa began to object, but Kereopa continued.
“I will hear no complaints. This was already organized with Te Ua. So far, Patara, Eru, and I have given sermons, but the rest of you can do it just as well.” Aside from Kepa and Tamati, the second group included two older warriors who were more sedate, but no less experienced and determined than Kereopa. “Of course, we will share the heads. You get four, we’ll take three. Use them. You know they are an important tool for convincing people. Prove to them that the pakeha aren’t invincible. When we have completed our mission successfully, we will all meet again. Pai marire, hau hau!”
The men answered hesitantly. Only Eru echoed the chant with full enthusiasm. After all, he’d been chosen to travel in the leader’s group to the most difficult areas. Opotiki was home to one of the biggest Christian missions in the country, and tribes in the area were supposed to have been converted to Christianity long ago. Their men were unarmed, and their children had been corralled into schools like the one at Tuahiwi. But now Te Ua Haumene’s apostles were coming. They were ready to bring war to the mission, determined to replace the cross with the niu.
Eru could hardly wait.
Chapter 38
The next morning, Fitz seemed almost offended by the idea of sending Linda out with Irene.
“Darling, of course I’ll find enough for both of us! My little sheep baroness doesn’t need to wade around in the mud.”
“What do you expect me to do here all day?” Linda asked. “Clean the house and polish the silver?”
Irene laughed. She had come to the hut with Paddy to warm up by the fire Fitz had built. There was nothing left to eat, but at least Linda had made fresh, strong coffee. They invited Irene to join them again. Linda couldn’t watch the young woman shivering while she and Fitz helped themselves. The rain had dissipated in the night, but not the cold. In Otago, winter came earlier than it did in the Canterbury Plains. With a shudder, Linda thought about how cold it would get over the next two or three months. Would she still be living in this ruin then, cooking over an open fire?
“People always work together to find gold,” Irene said, coming to Linda’s aid. “Men, women, children . . . It used to be all about speed. You had to dig out as much as possible before someone else came along. Now it’s about survival.”
Linda finally got her way. Armed with a spade and a gold pan and followed by the cheerful Amy, she walked toward Gabriel’s Gully with Irene. Fitz saddled a horse instead. He wanted to try the parts of the goldfield that were far
ther away from town. He explained to Linda that fewer people would have dug there.
“Plenty have tried that,” Irene remarked when Linda told her about her husband’s plans. “But there’s nothing to find there. I don’t know why, but the goldfields somehow have clear boundaries. And this one here has been used up, believe me. Your Fitz would have to sell his soul to the devil to find some corner that got missed by the twenty thousand men who already passed through.”
Linda sighed and followed Irene north to a stream. On the way, they passed a number of men and women working their claims. Mostly, the men would dig deep holes in the ground, and the women would sift through the soil.
“You can’t find anything that way,” Irene said with a sideward glance at the diggers. “There’s no gold that deep here. Yes, I know in gold mines they dig long tunnels in the earth. They tried that here too. One or two died when the things collapsed. Here it’s in the upper layers. Probably washed down from the mountains. It’s still coming down in the streams. You can always find a little bit in them.”
Irene clamored nimbly over the steep, muddy ground. Linda stumbled along behind her.
“Have you been here for a long time?” she asked, out of breath.
Irene showed no signs of fatigue herself, despite carrying Paddy in a sling on her back. She nodded.
“I came with the very first group of prospectors. My daddy owned a pub in Ireland. He always had one foot in prison, and was up to his eyeballs in debt.” Bitterly, Irene shifted her heavy spade from one shoulder to the other. “When he heard about the gold, we snuck out of Galway in the dead of night. The entire family: Father, Mother, and four daughters. We traveled on credit. Back then, they filled entire ships with prospectors, and the ship owner would advance the men the money for the voyage. The prospectors were supposed to pay it back with their earnings from the goldfields. Of course, that didn’t apply to us children; our father had to pay for us. But my sisters brought in at least two or three times their costs during the journey.”
