Plume of the Arawas

VI. The Bird-of-Tu Strikes

VI. The Bird-of-Tu Strikes

The leaping, dense, conglomerate mass of men
Now all together off the ground—in air—
Like some vast bird a moment's space—and then—
Down, with a single ponderous shock, again
Down, thundering on the groaning, trembling plain!
And every gesture fury could devise
And practice regulate was rampant there:
The loud slaps sounding on five hundred thighs,
Five hundred hideous faces drawn aside,
Distorted with one paroxysm wide:
Five hundred tongues like one protruding red,
Thrust straining out to taunt, dery, deride:
And the cold glitter of a thousand eyes
Upturning white far back into the head.

M oving rapidly across country, the Arawas reached the northern edge of the Kaingaroa plateau before midday, and there from a small rise they looked out towards a far-off hill, upon the lower slope of which was a dark mass easily identified even from that distance. Tuhoe!

Instantly a war-dance sent its challenge rolling over the plains, and then from untried warriors came impatient demands that they be led to the attack at once.

But Mawaké-Taupo was old in war, and he knew Tuhoe, and he knew the plains. Those innocent-looking clumps of scrub in front would almost certainly hide more than one enemy toro or scout. Those hollows to the side there, filled with patches of light bush, would give ideal shelter to a hidden force. Two parties of Tuhoe had been seen by Te Werohia on his hurried dash to Hikurangi. Had they joined forces on yonder slope, or was one there, with the other in ambush, and both waiting for Te Arawa to be caught within a Tuhoe trap? Taihoa! Wait!

From the far-off hill came a faint but penetrating sound, a sound that droned upon the ear like the boom of distant surf — Tuhoe throwing back Te Arawa's challenge with a war-dance of their own.

A sign from the ariki, and a few tried warriors move quickly down from the rise and away out on to the open tussock and scrub land of the plain, while behind them go Manaia and his band of youths. The rest of the taua wait, held back by a strong hand. Then events move quickly.

A sudden yell from the foremost Arawa, as he passes a patch of scrub and nimbly avoids the upward thrust of a whalebone patu, brings an answering roar from the watchers on the rise. Then three lithe forms leap out of the scrub and dash away in headlong flight.

Maroro kokoti ihu waka! Flying fish crossing the prow of the canoe! Seize and slay!” cry the Arawas to their warriors in hot pursuit.

The Tuhoe runners are speedy, however, and they gain ground with every stride. The watchers on the rise give vent to furious yells. Will the Tuhoes escape? Why do Manaia and his youths follow on so tardily? Surely they can outpace the veteran warriors running by their side?

“Ah! At last they move.”

An excited roar comes from the rise as the Arawas see Manaia and his youths suddenly draw away from the other pursuers and rapidly move ahead. They gain on Tuhoe, but they gain too slowly. Then out in front darts one figure whose great bounding stride is known to all. Joyfully the Arawas shout:

“Manaia! Manaia! Run now, O Tuhoes! Bend the knees, bow the head, run, for Manaia the fleetest Arawa is at your back! Run now, O Manaia, for the mana of thy tribe is at stake! Run! Run!”

“Ah!” cries Te Werohia to the ariki. “He closes on the rearmost one. Lo! He loses not a stride as he taps his foeman's head with greenstone meré and hurls him to the ground. To Manaia is the mata-ika, the first man killed in the battle!

“On! On! Down goes the second man. Ah! The third turns and fights. Help is near. Too late! The meré of Manaia grows red again.

“See! He holds his weapon up in final challenge to approaching Tuhoe. He dares them to come on. They hesitate. Their chiefs wave them back. They retire to the hill, there to await our attack. Now give the word, O Ariki, give the word!”

Mawaké-Taupo raised his weapon, and down on to and over the level ground surged the taua at the run, with men strung out in front and on either side and even at the back, to guard against surprise. With quick short strides, and the menace of the hissing “tsi! tsi! tsi!” the advancing warriors soon drew near to the hill, and then could it be seen how numerous the Tuhoes were, considerably outnumbering the Arawas. Clearly the two war-parties of Tuhoe had joined forces.

So much the better, thought Mawaké-Taupo, as he halted the taua and then strode off alone to inspect the hill. His commanding appearance, and a superb physique partly hidden by a black and white dogskin cape, made him an object of admiration to friend and foe alike. Backwards and forwards he stalked at the very base of the hill, armed with Pahikauré, no one daring to attack him.

His trained eye missed nothing in the scene before him. He saw at once the strength of the Tuhoe position. Only the western end of the hill was free from trees and undergrowth, and it was occupied by the enemy. But the trees were near at hand, and into the thick undergrowth around the trees the Tuhoe warriors would try to lure the Arawas to their destruction. There the expert bush-fighters from the Uréwera would have the advantage, especially with their greater numbers.

As Mawaké-Taupo turned back towards his warriors, a Tuhoe chief began to hurl taunt and insult at the wrathful Arawas below.

At once, from each taua, there came a series of singularly wild and forced expirations and inhalings, horrible gasping sighs vibrant with the threat of death to men, and then the dreadful fury of the peruperu as the warriors quickly worked themselves up into the madness of the blood-lust, and the desire to slay, and slay, and slay. And, finally, the abrupt ending, and the brief commands, “ Kokiritia! Hoatu ki roto-é! Hoatu ki roto! Charge! Dash in! Dash in!” as Mawaké-Taupo and Manaia led the Arawas in a sweeping rush up the hill.

Only the left wing of Tuhoe met the shock, but still the impact was terrific. The heavier Arawa crashed their way into the ranks of the Tuhoes in one sustained rush that left behind a trail of dead and dying. Pahikauré and the meré of Manaia bit deeply and often. At intervals above the din could be heard the dominating voice of Mawaké-Taupo shouting, “Riria, é Te Arawa! Riria! Fight, ye Arawas! Fight!” And many a time there was heard the savage “ Ooi!” or the exultant “A-ha-aha!” of a warrior as he delivered the death-blow.

Right over the hill and down the opposite slope swept the Arawas, and at the bottom they hastily re-formed. Then back they came in a compact mass to the top of the slope, only to find that the main body of Tuhoe had been withdrawn to the edge of the wood.

Straight at them the Arawas charged, and a fearful contest raged in the undergrowth along the fringe. There the lighter Tuhoes were at their best, and many an Arawa bit the fern in his death-agony. The wily Tuhoes sought to draw the Arawas farther in, but Mawaké-Taupo kept his men in hand, and soon withdrew them to the flat below the hill to rest and re-form.

The Arawa chiefs held a council of war. It was clear that Tuhoe were too numerous and too well led to be quickly dislodged. It was clear also that the Arawas must hasten on to Pukékura. Yet they could not leave a strong and hostile force behind them, to attack them in the rear, or even to move on Hikurangi, or on Taupo.

“These are my thoughts,” said the ariki. “If we cannot send our foes quickly along the broad pathway of death, we should make a track for them whereby they may pass quickly back to their world of life. Give them a way to depart peacefully, and they will fly to their homes in the Uréwera, like feathers driven before a strong wind.”

The advice appealed to all. But Tuhoe were proud of their fame as fighters. They would not take the track of life if it were named the pathway of defeat.

“This is my plan,” said Mawaké-Taupo. “I will challenge the Tuhoe leader, or any warrior in his taua, to single combat. If I be beaten in the fight, then the Arawas will return to Hikurangi this very day. If I triumph, then Tuhoe leave the plains this night on their way back to the Uréwera. On the word of Mawaké-Taupo they shall move unmolested by Te Arawa. Enough! Send forth the challenge, for I chafe at this delay!”

Meré in hand, he stepped forth to the base of the hill and waited while a young chief announced to Tuhoe the terms of the Arawa challenge and demanded prompt reply. Some Tuhoe chiefs moved down the slope to look more closely at that gigantic form and at the polished beauty of Pahikauré. They conferred. Then their spokesman replied:

“The terms of the challenge are proper. We take the word of Mawaké-Taupo, but we desire some other challenger. We fear not the ariki himself but rather his meré-pahikauré. Our fathers have told us about it. They have warned us of its powers. Therefore, name some other challenger, and quickly!”

Mawaké-Taupo hesitated for a moment, and then he grimly smiled as his voice rang out in answer:

“It shall be as Tuhoe wish. I have a son who has not yet finished his training in the Wharé-wananga. He shall take my place, armed only with his own meré-pounamu. As for thy man of Tuhoe, he can use meré or patu, club or stone battle-axe, short spear or long spear, or even the spear thrown with cord of flax. Nay, he can use two or more, and of any kind, for I long to see if the Arawa youth Manaia is trained for combat as his father was before him. Enough! Choose!”

He moved back to his men, and acceptance came at once. A Tuhoe chief came bounding down the slope, and began to step lightly up and down before the Arawas. Manaia leaped out to meet him, and they circled around as each sought to gain the other's measure.

The Tuhoe man was exceptionally tall and powerful, and his reach was almost as long as that of Manaia himself. For weapons he had a taiaha spear of unusual length, while in his belt was a whalebone patu. And apparently he felt quite sure of victory over his youthful opponent, for with a queer movement of his loosely-hanging lips, he bared his teeth at Manaia and cried:

“Youth! I am Hatuma, a chief of Tuhoe. Now examine well the moko of my countenance, ere I send I thee to the spirit-world! Ha! Art thou afraid of the pain of the moko, that thy face is still as clear as that of a maiden?”

The Arawas muttered savagely as they heard this taunt, but Mawaké-Taupo merely held up his hand and uttered the one word: “Taihoa! Wait!”

The next moment Arawa youth and Tuhoe man were joined in the deadly “tau-mataki-tahi,” while, true to custom, the leaders of the tauas kept their excited warriors at a safe distance, under firm control, allowing no movement to take place that might distract the attention of the combatants. Yes! The time-honoured practices of single combat would be faithfully observed, lest the honour of either tribe should be besmirched.

Feet continually on the move, weapons quivering in the grasp, taiaha and meré sounding against each other in a continuous rattle, not for one moment did either Tuhoe or Arawa stand still.

Holding his long spear in both hands, the Tuhoe used either end for thrust or parry, but ever he sought the chance to deal the finishing blow with the hard edge of his spear-blade to his opponent's temple.

Manaia bided his time. It was good to be matched against so expert a taiaha-fighter. He could now show to the watching Arawas, and to Tuhoe themselves, that the short broad-bladed meré was superior even to the taiaha in either attack or defence.

But presently a strange thing happened, and for a moment it threw the Arawa quite off his guard. The mobile upper lip of the Tuhoe chief quivered violently, and the unexpected sight made Manaia gasp with astonishment. The Tuhoe seized his chance at once and slid the taiaha through his left hand with a vigorous thrust from his right.

Well for Manaia that the carved tongue of that spear did not reach his ribs, else could he have scarcely avoided the quick blow to the temple that would have surely followed! But no! The point just missed its mark. An agile body and an agile mind saved Manaia, yet the margin of safety was very small. He bent backwards and leaped sideways out of reach, while the Arawas roared their relief at his escape, and then demanded that the Tuhoe's lip be made to quiver again.

The Tuhoe chief became more confident than ever, and he boasted that the meré of the Arawa had not even come near to him yet. Quietly Manaia replied:

“Art thou indeed a crayfish, to turn red the moment thou art thrown upon the fire? See now, the fire burns up fiercely!”

He began to attack with such skill and fury that the Tuhoe man at last abandoned his taiaha and settled down to defend his life with his whalebone patu. For a brief space he held his own with that short weapon and parried all the efforts of Manaia to break through his guard. A great fight!

Then, to the delight of the watching Arawas, he quivered that lip of his again, and even more rapidly than before—a queer sight—a choice detail of a fight that would be told of in the pas of Te Arawa for generations to come. A queer sight; but this time Manaia only laughed, and quivered his weapon in reply, as he prepared to give the finishing blow.

Ha! How the blade of that meré leaped and danced! The whalebone patu fought bravely, but the end was near. Nearer, ever nearer, to the Tuhoe's head went the meré, until suddenly, with a “tipi” or endwise thrust, the Arawa drove his sharp-edged weapon into the skull of his foe at the side where it was thinnest, and, with a powerful turn of the wrist, wrenched the skull wide open. Death came at once, the body standing erect for an instant before it swayed and crashed headlong to the ground.

A cry of horror arose from the hill as many of the Tuhoes beheld that type of death-blow for the first time. To the Arawas it was the final test of Manaia's skill as a warrior, and they shouted loudly their approval. What other finishing stroke demanded so many years of training, required so true an eye, and so strong an arm, and so supple a wrist, as this the favourite stroke of Mawaké-Taupo? It was the stroke he had taught Manaia to use in all cases of single combat, partly so that the very difficulty of it might make the contests more equal, and partly in order that the fame and the terror of it might add to the mana of his name.

“It is sufficient,” cried a chief from the hill in front. “Our word was given. We will depart as soon as we shall have buried our dead. We shall move without hindrance, according to the promise of Mawaké-Taupo. Now take with you your dead and your wounded, O Arawas, and withdraw to the rise yonder, lest the sight of our warriors on the open plain breed fresh conflict. Our own dead we will bury on this blood-drenched slope, and our tohungas will make, the place tapu for ever. Enough!”