‘By now, Alula was a very old woman, an ancient. All these years, she had preached to us about her crossing with Joubert, and that of Koahu with Roblet. With every sermon, her anger became more vehement: she blamed all of our misfortunes on your impetuousness. Meanwhile, the people continued to waste away and die of strange new illnesses, for which we had no cures.
‘The knowledge of the crossing was disappearing with the death of each of the old people. By now, Alula spent her days lying down. All the people knew that her death would be the death of the last teacher of the crossing. The people implored Alula to make one more crossing before she died. Finally, in a whisper, she called for a child to be brought to her – the strongest, healthiest child on the island. At that time, Mehevi was only five years old. He was an impertinent and imperious boy, but he was strong and never sick. When he was taken to her, Alula pointed to a tapa cloth that contained a sacred object. Inside, Mehevi found a whalebone knife, with fine engravings showing scenes from the old stories of the gods. On her command, all the people except Alula and Mehevi left the hut. Finally, Mehevi emerged from the hut and into the daylight, his hands slick and red. There was an expression of terrible triumph on his face that I shall never forget. He was holding the knife in one hand. It dripped with blood. In the other hand, he held Alula’s eyes, which he had gouged out according to the custom. The new chief Fayawaye went and knelt before him out of respect, and the other people present followed her example. Mehevi was our new sage.
‘It was now generally agreed that the Law was irreparably broken. And so the people naturally divided into two camps. On one side were those who still feared the Law, and insisted we reject the foreigners and all their ways, and return to the Law with increased devotion. They remembered the prophecies of the old people, and when they looked about at the sickness that afflicted so many of us they believed these prophecies were now being fulfilled. On the other side were those who believed that the Law was now outmoded, that it was time to leave the old ways behind and adapt to the new ways. The foreigners had shown us how isolated and backward we were. We had to embrace the new life offered us, turn our backs on the past and look towards the future with hope.
‘Then the French navy arrived. Three boats made of stone and puffing out smoke reached our shores. They seemed like nightmare visions, nothing like the ships the foreigners had sailed before. Sailors rowed to our shore and the admiral declared the island a possession of Louis Philippe, King of the French. Enormous muskets aboard the ships exploded in celebration of the occasion. Later we learned that they were called cannons, not muskets, and that the weapons the French soldiers carried were no longer called muskets but rifles.
‘Swarms of soldiers came upon the island and began to build a wharf, a barracks and a prison. The ships sailed away several months later, but some of the soldiers remained. Ever since, the ships have come and gone but the soldiers are always here, building, always building: cutting down trees, digging up stones, laying down foundations. They went on to build an infirmary, a prison, a courthouse, a customs building, houses to live in, sheds to store things in, gardens to grow vegetables in, shops to sell things in, and above all they built roads. After the French navy came, more foreigners arrived: officials and workers, farmers and businessmen, teachers and storekeepers, wives and children. They built a village, called it Louisville, and settled there. They took possession of the low-lying land and cleared it of trees. They built wooden fences around it and when the people climbed over the fences or took one of their animals they would shoot at us, or else soldiers would come looking for us and take us to the prison. The breadfruit and banana and coconut trees were fenced off in this way, and the foreigners planted new plants like sugarcane and cotton and rice. Chief Fayawaye went to complain to the French about the sufferings of the people. The French insulted her, threatening her with prison if more animals were stolen or any of the French property damaged. She returned to the people and told them that the land the French had claimed for themselves no longer belonged to everyone. The people had never thought of things this way before. It was a strange idea to them that the land could be divided into little pieces, and that these pieces would then be the property of one person or another, who could do as they wished with it, including keeping other people from using it.
‘The people talked for a long time, over many moons, about the new ways the French had brought with them, and considered how to make the French compromise, or even go away altogether. Between us we had six rusty old muskets and precious little gunpowder, whereas the French had rifles and pistols and cannons, and could put the people in windowless cells with iron doors that could only be opened with keys.
‘When the French learned of the plotting by some of the people, they approached Mehevi, who had grown to be an impetuous youth. Mehevi was fascinated by the foreigners’ ways. With his quick mind he had learned to speak their language. He never spoke of Alula or the Law. The French told Mehevi that Oaeetee needed a king, a great and mighty warrior. They offered to make him king, and build him a palace, and respect him as the lord of all the island and its people. Mehevi agreed, and told them that he was in fact Oaeetee’s rightful monarch, that his throne had been usurped by Fayawaye, and for proof he showed them the plaque that Marchand had left on the island all those years before, which he had received from Alula, who herself had received it from Fetu. The French were pleased by this, and saw it as the evidence that their scheme was righteous and just.
‘And so the division in the people widened: those who valued the Law and wished to restore it gathered around Fayawaye, whereas those who valued the new ways and wished to abandon the Law gathered around Mehevi. Over the years, the Fayawaye people left the lowlands and retreated ever higher into the mountains, where life was colder and harsher, and to the far side of the island, where they could continue to practise the old ways in peace. They came to be known simply as the highland people. The others, those who wished to live in the new ways, came to be known as the lowland people. Their leader was King Mehevi who, from his palace, became known for his ruthlessness and terrible anger.
‘Other than Mehevi in his palace, the mission was the only place the French would allow the lowland people to settle. In time, they were joined by those who could not abide the cold of the mountains or the hunger of the far side of the island. The sick went to the mission hospital in search of a cure. Everyone was welcome to stay on the mission for as long as they liked, and eat the food of the priests, on the condition that they set aside their nakedness, abandon their songs and dancing, and toil in the field from dawn to dusk every day except Sunday, when they were expected to attend Mass.
‘The sickness among us continued to spread. There were fewer and fewer highland people, and the French were always complaining about them, accusing them of stealing from the farms. They are still there, and Fayawaye is still their queen, but she is an old woman now.
‘I myself lived with the highland people for many years. As I watched others leave, I was determined never to join them. But as I grew old and became sick, I could not continue to live in the mountains. So with shame in my heart I, too, came to the mission. But now that I know you have returned, now that I have told you my story, now that I know the People of the Albatross will be avenged, I can die in peace. I am weary of this life, and ready to join with the divine breath.’
The morning after my reunion with Koroli, I heard three sharp knocks at the door of my hotel room. When I opened it, Lieutenant Perrault stood before me, holding an envelope in his hand. It was a summons from the palace.
Once more I was ushered into the Great Hall, only this time King Mehevi sat alone on his throne. He beckoned me forward. I approached and curtsied.
‘Madame Édmonde,’ he said in a soothing tone.
‘Your Majesty,’ I replied, bowing my head.
Mehevi smiled. ‘Please raise your veil.’
‘But –’
‘Please, madame, indulge me.’
I
lifted the black tulle over my head and looked the King directly in the eyes, trying to maintain my composure, for despite his calming demeanour I sensed a tension in him straining to be released. He stood from his throne and stepped down from the dais, hands clasped behind his back. ‘I have it on good authority that you have disobeyed my orders.’
‘How, Your Majesty?’
‘Yesterday, you went to the mission.’
‘Yes. I thought it would be useful to familiarise myself with the conditions in which the natives live.’
‘Useful?’
‘For pedagogical purposes.’
A mirthless chuckle rose from deep within him, as if he were indulging a child. ‘So much so that you decided to visit a second time, after dark?’
It seems I had been followed. ‘I couldn’t sleep. I needed to walk.’
‘And you had a long conversation with the old imbecile Koroli.’
‘Yes.’
‘What did he say to you?’
‘I didn’t understand very much. His dialect was near impossible to make out.’
‘Alula, let’s drop the pretence.’ I was doubly startled – not just by the name he called me, but also because he addressed me in the islander language. ‘I know who you are. I know why you have come here.’ Now I understood why he’d wanted to see my face – to scrutinise my reactions. I remained mute. ‘Do you know who I am?’
‘You are King Mehevi,’ I replied in French.
‘I am the King, it is true. But I am also someone else. Can you guess who?’
‘No, I cannot.’ We continued to speak in two different languages.
‘Yes, you can. Think.’
‘Forgive me, Your Majesty.’
He paused a moment and then tried a different approach, giving me a hollow smile. ‘It’s me, Joubert,’ he said. ‘Joubert – you’re very familiar with that name, aren’t you?’ His words were tinged with menace. ‘There’s no point hiding, Alula. I spoke with Koroli myself earlier this morning. He told me everything – what he told you, what you told him. He was under the impression you’ve come to avenge the people. Surely you’re not so foolish as to believe that?’
I told myself to remain as still as possible, but my mind was racing with calculation. Was he bluffing? Did he subject every newcomer to the same treatment? It was intuition, and the memory of what Koroli had told me about Mehevi, that prevented me from unveiling the truth of my identity.
‘And so I’m left wondering – why is it that you have returned? Surely you don’t believe the Law can be mended, do you?’
‘Your Majesty,’ I said, finally, in Oaeetian, speaking slowly and haltingly, as if the language was difficult for me to speak, disguising my words with an accent, ‘with respect, I know not of what you speak.’
He reached out and put a hand on my shoulder, his fingers curled around my neck. ‘Drop the pretence. I know everything. So do you.’ By this time he was near enough that I felt a gust of hot breath with every word.
‘The poor fellow was so close to death, he was hallucinating,’ I said, slipping back into French. ‘I merely consoled him as best I could.’
‘Why have you come back?’ he snarled, his fingers tightening around my neck. I gasped, as much with surprise as with pain. He was now so near to me I could see the reflection in his eyes. I realised with a shot of panic that he was searching out my gaze. Was he attempting to cross with me? I fixed my sight on the bridge of his nose, between his eyes. ‘Are you not the very cause of your people’s misery? Are you not the one who destroyed the Law with your recklessness? So why are you really here? To wreak more havoc? To destroy what little hope they have left? Haven’t you done enough harm?’ He paused, awaiting my reply.
His grip hardened. I gasped. ‘Please,’ I sobbed, ‘Your Majesty . . .’
His mouth was curled in a terrible grimace. ‘Did you really think you could hide behind that loathsome face? Did you really believe it would protect you?’ He turned my face this way and that, studying it. ‘You are truly a hideous creature. Just like me.’ He pulled me closer to try to catch my gaze, but I kept it locked on that spot between his eyes. ‘Look at what you have done to your people, and the horror of their lives. Did your actions not bring this on them? Look what you have done to me! Yes, I am a monster, it is true what the old man told you. I am cruel and I am vengeful. But I am your monster. You created me! And every cruelty I commit is the offspring of your cruelty!’ Our bodies were now conjoined. ‘You stole my life from me, and all this time I have waited for you to return. Shall we undo now what you did ninety years ago?’ My entire body trembled. ‘Shall I administer the penance for your sin?’ His lips curled into a vicious smile. ‘Vengeance is not yours to take – vengeance is mine!’
‘Your Majesty,’ I gurgled, gripped by panic.
‘Admit it,’ he whispered as he loomed above me. ‘You are Alula. Your refusal to look me in the eye simply confirms it. Just nod your head, and I’ll let you go at once.’ I kept my gaze resolutely locked in between his eyes. ‘Look at me!’ he shouted, convulsing with the pleasure of his rage. I felt my life force drain out of me. If it had not been for a commanding knock at the door I might have perished at that very instant. Mehevi suddenly withdrew and, turning his back to me and the door, retreated to a more seemly distance. I lowered my veil and smoothed my dress.
Through the door stepped Colonel Mirabelle, the Resident-General, holding his pith helmet under his arm. Mehevi sat back on his throne. ‘What is it, Colonel?’
‘Your Majesty summoned me?’
‘I did no such thing, but no matter. The woman will leave the island on the next departing ship. Until then, she is to remain under confinement in her quarters.’ He turned his head away from me with an expression of disgust. No sooner had I begun to mouth a protestation than he erupted. ‘How dare you speak without my permission!’ He gestured to Mirabelle. ‘Get her out of my sight at once.’ As Mirabelle ushered me out, Mehevi began rubbing his forehead vigorously, as if greatly troubled. I myself was clutching my throat and trembling with a violence I could barely control.
Outside, Lieutenant Perrault was waiting for me in the buggy. We made it most of the way back to the Hibiscus in silence. I was still shaking when he finally spoke. ‘Don’t be too disappointed,’ he said as we neared the hotel. ‘He’s like that with all the newcomers.’ I glanced at him with disbelief. ‘Oh, yes. Everyone who arrives on the island receives the same interrogation – I know who you are, I know why you came here, and so forth.’ The officer gave a wan smile. ‘And you’re not the first to have been kicked off the island. The last Resident-General had barely set foot on dry land before Mehevi sent him back. The man is a lunatic.’
He was interrupted by a strange and melancholic sound: choral music like the singing I’d heard the previous day at the mission. At the top end of the main street, a crowd of islanders, dressed in white muslin, were shuffling towards Louisville’s humble little cathedral.
‘Mourners,’ said Perrault.
‘Who died?’
‘An old man at the mission, an ancient fellow by the name of Koroli. The last of the old-timers. They found his body this morning. In the tropics, the dead are quickly buried.’ As we observed the funeral procession, he tut-tutted. ‘It’s most strange,’ he said. ‘It seems when the old man’s body was found, his eyes were missing.’
I was to be kept under guard in my hotel room until the departure of a ship bound for Valparaíso two weeks hence. But my encounter with Mehevi left me doubtful that I would last that long. I feared the King would have me murdered before then. I spent a sleepless night devising a means of escape. The next morning, when Rahama came to visit, I gave her a note to take to Fayawaye. Alula has finally returned to the island, it read. She is being held captive by Mehevi at the Hibiscus Hotel and wishes to escape and join with your people. ‘It is very important that Fayawaye receives this note quickly,’ I said. ‘Bring me back her reply. And above all make sure no one knows about any of this.�
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Two young gendarmes took it in turns to sit on a wooden chair outside the entrance to my room at the Hibiscus, and for twelve hours at a time they would doze or flirt with the women. Three days later, I received Fayawaye’s reply urging me to flee immediately, promising to meet me in the mountains the following day. In the dead of night, I made my silent escape, taking the stairwell at the back of the building, which was left unguarded, accompanied by Rahama, with only what could be carried on our backs. We ran as far as we could in the moonlight, and when we could run no longer we walked. By the time the sun rose we were halfway up the mountain.
The sun was at its zenith when we stopped to rest by a stream gathered in the hollow of a rock. There, Fayawaye awaited us with her most trusted highland people. The daughter of Otahu, she was now an old woman, and nearing death. ‘Now I can die with a tranquil heart,’ she said when she approached me. After we had embraced, a young woman approached us and knelt before me. Fayawaye introduced her as Faïmana, her granddaughter, the great-granddaughter of Otahu. This young woman before me was to be the next chief of the highland people. Kneeling before me, Faïmana welcomed me and called me Ne’Alula: the second Alula. ‘The people have long awaited your return,’ she said. As I was introduced to the gathering of people, many a tear was shed, until Fayawaye warned it was time to continue our journey, lest the French discover us. We continued our march higher still into the mountains with happiness in our hearts. At long last, I was among my people. There I would remain for the next nineteen years.
Crossings Page 27
