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Plume of the Arawas

IX. “Mine in the Spirit”

page 288

IX. “Mine in the Spirit”

Farewell, O Nobly-Born!
As parapet thou wert
And ditch and tow'r to fort
To stay the anger'd foe.

Just before dawn on the morning of the fourth day, the day that was to bring to an end the efforts of Rerémoa to move the Arawa from his purpose, the watchers at Rotoaira suddenly raised the cry “Te Whetu-o-te-Tau-e-e-e! Te Whetu-o-te-Tau-e!” and at once from every dwelling in the pa there rushed out people old and young to greet with dancing, and with chanting, and with joy and tears, the Star of the Maori New Year.

The Arawa also came out on to the marae, and for a space he felt quite homesick, for he knew that in just such fashion and at that very time were the people of Hikurangi offering up their greetings to the New Year. Then came over him the feeling that he was out of place in a Ngatihotu pa on such a day.

But no sooner had the first feast of the festival ended than the children made it clear that they looked to him for added happiness that day. Indeed, wherever he went they crowded around him in joyful groups, and in all the games and contests that followed it was his smiling approval which always they sought to gain.

The competition in war-dancing was won easily by the boys whom he had trained, and their exhibition of an Arawa “peruperu” thrilled the people, who clamoured for more. Aué! By comparison how page 289 feeble, how painfully weak, were the war-dances of Ngatihotu!

So pleased was Tuwharétoa with those boys that he willingly yielded to their wish that he display to them the art of “karo,” or the parrying of missile spears by the use of the hand alone. And a wonderful display he gave. Yet more than once, as she watched a flight of spears rushing towards the man she loved, Rerémoa regretted that she had sown the seed of that wish.

Following upon that display the Arawa gave an exhibition of jumping and leaping which astonished the people, for he cleared with ease the high inner palisade, and then with equal ease he jumped over the heads of warriors standing four deep, and finally he even leaped right across the wide outside ditch—a great leap.

“O friend!” said Rerémoa to him. “Just a little more help like this, and maybe the spirit of daring would return to my people—perhaps?”

………..

“Perhaps!” said he.

When the evening celebrations began in the Wharé-tapéré at Rotoaira that night, the Arawa and Rerémoa were both aware that the crisis in their lives had come at last, and that for one or other or for both of them the evening could not fail to end in sacrifice.

But no hint of that knowledge did the Arawa give as he sat beside Nukutea in the place of honour. And no sign of her anxiety did Rerémoa show as she directed in minutest detail the final scenes.

First there appeared in the open centre-way of the crowded building a number of young mothers, each with her babe held in loving arms. And to those babes u page 290 the mothers chanted very tenderly a Ngatihotu lullaby. Soon, however, an anxious note crept into their chanting, and then a note of fear, and then a wailing as the mothers clung to their babes and sheltered them, as if to guard them from blows unseen. But almost at once the wailing ceased, and despair gave way to hope, and hope to joy, joy at the escape of little ones from death. Then, smiling happily, the mothers fled away with their babes.

A sign from Rerémoa, and a party of very old men advanced into the open space, and gave an action-chant to represent the digging of ground for a kumara plantation. They were followed by a party of bent but still active old women who, in their action-chant, imitated with remarkable exactness all the movements of a planting. Now in each of those quavering chants was a quiet content, followed by anxious fears, and then by distress, and then by hope, and finally by joy again. Yes, even the old people of Ngatihotu wished to cling to what remained to them of life.

Much affected, Tuwharétoa turned to Nukutea and said:

“Thus and thus did the Sacred Mountain speak to me last night about the babes and about the old people.”

Still overwhelmed in mind and spirit by that which had been revealed to him, the old chief made no reply.

From Rerémoa now came another sign, and gradually the people joined in a series of combined chants descriptive of the history of their tribe from the time of the migration from Hamoa. Yet again did that note of fear creep in, and soon the chants became mournful dirges, as if the people were chanting the death-songs of their tribe. Indeed, unbidden there burst forth the wailing notes of the “tangi.”

But Rerémoa, sensing the danger of a too heavy page 291 appeal, cried sharply, “Enough! Enough!” and the chanting and the wailing ceased. Then followed some homely scenes such as contests between old men and young men at the complicated string game called “whai,” then races between old men and young men to be the quicker at generating fire—contests in which the victories of the old men gave much pleasure to all.

At last there came a brief but marked lull, during which the movements of Rerémoa told the Arawa that the main attack was drawing near.

Ah! Into the centre-way now glided maidens to the number of thirty or more, maidens just hovering on the border of maturity, maidens pretty of face and supple of form, maidens brightly garbed in short feather-cloaks and flax-string piupius and neat little aprons of dressed flax marked in quaintest designs of colour.

Ah! Out in front of the maidens moved Rerémoa, garbed as they. And she was beautiful, with a beauty of an inward and an outward glow that caused the Arawa to catch his breath at sight of it. Aué! To turn away from, to give up such beauty!

The cry of a bird—and from each maiden's hand dropped a poi-ball, a be-feathered little poi-ball, held by its controlling string. Another cry, and with a sudden whir the poi-balls took the air and fluttered about the ears and about the hair of the maidens as if enchanted, then sank to caress with lightest touch the rounded shoulders and the shapely limbs before returning with fresh messages of love for ears that seemed to listen. No, not even at Hikurangi had the Arawa seen anything quite so charming as this bird-poi.

For only a brief space did the poi-balls fly happily, and then fear seemed to come upon them suddenly, page 292 and first to one side and then to another they flew as if trying to escape. But quickly their strength seemed to fail them, for their fluttering grew weaker, and weaker, until at last they were at the feet of the maidens, and fluttering around as if longing to remain in the world of life. Then did the tearful Rerémoa make her appeal to the Arawa:

“O Manaia, I weep to see these singing-birds who of myself are part. Ah me! Must all now droop and die, and thus their songs be hushed?” But the only answer was a murmured Taihoa!

Weaker, still weaker grew the poi-balls. Upon the very ground they fluttered like birds with broken wings.

“Alas!” cried Rerémoa. “Alas, my flock of forestbirds that flew about from tree to tree in happier times—now fast in woodsman's snare! Aué! The sorrow within me! The sorrow within me!”

Almost overcome with emotion, but showing no sign of it, the Arawa waited, for now, as the weeping bird-maidens fled away, their place was taken by other maidens, younger maidens, maidens barely adolescent, maidens who quivered with excitement over the honour that was theirs. Ah! Were they not picked maidens, specially trained by Rerémoa for some final and mysterious attack upon the godlike Arawa?

In two long lines they came, dark eyes shining, bodies softly swaying, piupius crackling, little feet stamping; then, to the time of a melodious canoechant, up rose the poi-balls, the many-coloured poiballs, and down sank the maidens, down they sank gracefully, into sitting postures one behind the other, faces all turned the one way—towards the Arawa.

To her place at the end of the “canoe” went Rerémoa. A command; then backwards and forwards and to either side leaned the maidens, with the twirling page 293 poi-balls rising, and falling, and dipping, and thrusting with admirable precision and harmony of action in a skilful imitation of the movements of paddles.

But soon the “canoe” ran into a “gale,” and began to quiver, and to shake, and to toss about as if buffeted by waves. Into the eyes of the maidens came a look of alarm, and into their chant came a wail. Then the “storm” grew worse, and some of the maidens rolled from the line as if swept out by inrushing waves. Alas! The confusion, the panic, that followed!

In vain did their leader seek to rally the crew. Overcome by their fear, they ceased to paddle. Then did Rerémoa herself seem to abandon all hope, for she mournfully cried:

Aué! Aué! Aué! Lost on the rocky shore of death will be my crew—–”

“No! No! No!” thundered the Arawa as he leaped to his feet. “It shall not be! It shall not be! Enough! Enough!”

Then, realising that his sudden outburst had given the cowering maidens a far bigger fright than ever the “storm” had given them, he spoke gently to them, and asked them to gather round him. Also, he called to the boy-leader of the war-dancers, and invited him to draw near with his band. Finally, he turned to Rerémoa, and his voice trembled as he spoke to her:

“O Puhi maiden of Ngatihotu, for several moons thou hast been weaving for thy people a protective cloak of finest texture, and this night thou hast put to it a border, a very beautiful border. Enough for that cloak!”

Then he turned from her, and said:

“Now hear me, O High Chief and People of Ngatihotu! Because of these children here, and because of the old people, and because of the manner in which page 294 Rerémoa and Tongariro have stirred me to the depths, I will grant you peace from Te Arawa during my lifetime.

“Yes, though I bring upon myself the wrath of mine own people, I will hold back my tribe from any conquest of Ngatihotu. And I will hold back Tuhoe also. And, if ye ask it of me, I will show you how to hold back Whanganui by building a strong island-pa in the shallows at the end of the Lake below. Enough for the holding back!

“Now hear me again! As an emblem of peace between Te Arawa and Ngatihotu, I will erect near the foot of the Waterfall-of-the-Moa a tall post, a carved post; and I will name it ‘Te Riri-koré, The Cessation-of-Anger,’ and it shall stand for my lifetime, and be a barrier between you and death.

“Nevertheless, O Ngatihotu, take warning that it is a respite, a breathing-space only, that is offered to you now, for at the appointed time my people will occupy the whole of the Taupo country in your stead —yes, in your stead. So spake Tongariro to me. Therefore, enough!”

He picked up his cloak, and the people, utterly bewildered by what they had heard, waited, and wondered who was this Arawa who could presume to speak with such authority and confidence on matters affecting the destinies of tribes.

But when he placed his cloak about his shoulders, his action filled Rerémoa with instant alarm—dismay. She moved to his side, and she said to him:

“Thou art not going away, O Manaia? Surely thou art not going away?”

“Yes, I am going away, my Rerémoa,” he replied. “But do thou come to the Waterfall-of-the-Moa tomorrow morning, bringing with thee the sacred casket page 295 ‘Puhi-Ariki.’ Then, ere I rejoin my people on the waka-taua, we can bid each other—each other—farewell, farewell.”

“Another sacrifice, O Manaia?” she asked.

“Yes, another sacrifice—if need be,” said he.

He could not look at her, but he gave her hand a gentle pressure as he turned away. Then he stooped, and gave to Nukutea the salutation of the “hongi.” With the same salutation he honoured the young leader of the war-dancers. With kindly eyes, eyes that showed more than a hint of tears, he smiled down upon the worshipping poi-maidens. Then, as he moved towards the door, the stricken Rerémoa cried out to her people:

“Bow the head, bow the head, ye people of Ngatihotu, for the man who stalks before you is the Ariki, the Ariki, the Ariki of Te Arawa, Tuwharétoa!”

………..

Morning—at the Waterfall-of-the-Moa! On the mound near the foot of the fall—the ariki, alone! And, quite close up to the shore of the little bay below—the war-canoe Te Arawa! The calm voice of Tuwharétoa, speaking:

“To me, O Marama, Tongariro is a place of the spirit, a place set up as a high mountain where, in days to come, the Maori may build again his hopes and his aspirations—and where again he may reach the heights of mind and spirit that were his in the distant Birthland of the race.

“Also, to me, Taupo-of-the-Sparkling-Waters is now a Lake-of-Beauty, a Sea-of-Splendour which, in days to come, will be an inspiration to our people, and a safe abiding-place for them, rather than a cause of war and strife.

page 296

“But Taupo and Tongariro demand a sacrifice. Therefore, enough!”

He waited, hoping that his sister might give some sign that she understood.

But from Marama there came no sign. Close to her feet lay a long post, a totara post—and the sight of it still filled her with anger, anger against a maiden of Ngatihotu, anger against her brother. Alas! The purpose for which was wanted that post!

Beside her, in the stern of the canoe, stood Rata, hating the sight of that post almost as much as did Marama.

In strong contrast with them was Niwareka, crouching under cover in the cabin near by, not in the least bit interested in the post—but dreading the outburst that was sure to come.

As for the warriors who crowded the thwarts, they had made it clear on their arrival that morning that no hands of theirs would touch that post. They waited, still sullen, still determined to disobey any command to move that post.

Only from Te Puku the Fat did any greeting now come. A quiet “Kia ora!” came floating across from the canoe, and the ariki opened his hand and closed it to show that he had grasped the greeting. Then he spoke again, still to his sister:

“Listen, O Marama! When my father was dying he told me that my feet would be upon the mountains, and that mine outlook would be towards the distant horizon.

“Now then! My feet have been upon the mountains, and I have seen the distant horizon, but, to my surprise, that horizon was of the spirit rather than of the eye. Yet must I press on to that horizon, for only thus can I be sure of winning Taupo and page 297 Tongariro for my tribe. However, enough! Now send ashore that post! Marama, Rata, warriors, send ashore that post!”

On board the waka-taua not a word was said, not a finger was raised to obey. For one moment, anger, a terrible anger, showed up in the eyes of the ariki— then faded away. Quietly, and calmly, Tuwharétoa again demanded the post. Then did Marama reply, very coldly:

“O brother, the Puhi maiden of Ngatihotu has dragged thee down. For her sake only art thou doing this thing. Yet I, the Puhi maiden of Te Arawa, will not agree. Neither shall thy people agree. Therefore, with thee or without thee, we fight on. Enough!”

“So!” said Tuwharétoa, as he made a move towards the water's edge. “Then it seems that I must take out the post with mine own hands.”

Taihoa! taihoa!” cried Te Puku hastily. “I will bring it to thee, O Ariki.”

He plunged along over the thwarts, bursting his way through with little regard for the feelings or for the shoulders of the angry warriors, until he reached the stern. Then he said to Marama:

“O Puhi maiden, bear with me as, for the first time since thou wert a babe about the size of my foot, I act against thy wishes!”

Marama turned her eyes away, and then, in an unsteady voice, she ordered the warriors near by to take their feet off the post, and to replace their weapons in their belts, and to raise no hand against Te Puku or against the ariki in the matter of the post. Reluctantly the warriors obeyed.

So, unmolested, the Fat One lifted out the post, lowered himself and the post over the side of the canoe, and waded ashore. Then did he hold the post page 298 firmly while the ariki, with greenstone weapon pressed against the wood, marked in with a sharp stone flake the outline of the meré Pahikauré. Ha! So that was the “carving” which was to decorate the post! An ominous carving, a threatening carving, a carving and a warning which no Arawa would find it easy to ignore!

But now a fresh trial came to all on board the wakataua, for along the shore of the Lake came a crowd of Ngatihotus, led by a fair-haired maiden whom Marama at once knew to be the chieftainess Rerémoa. Stirred beyond control at the sight of her, Marama taunted Tuwharétoa:

“There she is, O brother, come to take thee with her to her home—for thy reward. Aué! She will cling to thee as clings the clasping vine to forest tree. Yes, in spite of all thy strength her soft little hands will twine around thee and will strangle thee. Alas! my brother!”

Tuwharétoa continued working away at the post, making more clear the outline of Pahikauré. He did not even look across at Rerémoa, now close at hand. Nor did he look down at Marama; but he was listening, listening intently—to Marama's mind. Suddenly he turned, and cried to her, sharply, fiercely:

“Say it not, say it not!”

Ha! Almost had Marama called out to Rerémoa: “He taurekareka koe! A slave, thou!”—so angry was she.

“O Marama!” continued Tuwharétoa. “Had thoughts taken form in speech, scarcely could I have forgiven thee. However, taihoa! First this post, and then will I tell thee things that will make thee ashamed of thy thoughts.”

At his bidding, some Ngatihotus came forward and dug a deep hole upon the top of the mound, and quickly page 299 retired. Then did Tuwharétoa step forward with the post, and cry:

“Its name, O Arawas, is ‘Te Riri-koré.’ Therefore, take heed, for I am setting it up as a sign that there is peace between Te Arawa and Ngatihotu!

“Now hearken, and take heed again! This post is my right arm. Also, this post is Pahikauré. Therefore, should any man, Arawa or Ngatihotu, strike it down, Pahikauré and I will be swift to avenge.

“Ha! Now will I sink the post, and beneath it I will bury my youthful ambition to be the conqueror of the land which is to be the final home of my people. Yes, I will bury it with the post. See! Down it goes!”

A wailing cry burst from Marama, and from the warriors rose a dirge of grief. Almost it seemed to them, as they watched Te Puku throwing in and stamping down the soil around the base, that the ariki himself was being buried beneath that post.

But now Tuwharétoa was speaking again, and in his voice there was an intensity of feeling that thrilled Arawas and Ngatihotus alike, as he cried:

“Now then! Though by this act I give up Taupo and Tongariro from the grasp of my hands, nevertheless, Taupo and Tongariro are mine, already mine, mine in the spirit—and from my spirit's grasp they shall not be torn; no, they shall not be torn.

“Now hear me, O Marama, as I deal with thy thoughts about Rerémoa! Know this, that she has come to me now, not to take me back to her home at Rotoaira, but to say—farewell. Yes; she knows that I am not willing to sacrifice the destiny of my tribe. Yes; she knows that in due time my people will supplant, must supplant, dispossess, destroy her people because of the vision that is mine. Therefore, how can I live with her among her people, or how can she page 300 live with me among my people, or how can I expect her to be my mate—knowing the fate that is in store for her people? Alas! the fate!

“Nevertheless, though I give up my dreams of happiness with Rerémoa, yet she is mine, already mine, mine in the spirit—and from my spirit's grasp she shall not be torn; no, she shall not be torn.”

His voice had trailed off towards the end, had become husky with emotion; but as he finished speaking he unslung Te Umu-kohu-kohu, and sounded upon it a long and mellow blast—a blast which to the Arawas was a challenge, and to the Ngatihotus a promise, and to Rerémoa a lingering farewell.

Yes, to Rerémoa he was offering farewell; but no sooner had the notes of the trumpet died away than the maiden stepped forward, and softly cried:

Taihoa, taihoa, O Friend! Last night, after thou hadst gone from Rotoaira, the Mountain did speak to me, bidding me to accept the respite which thou didst offer, bidding me also to go to thee—to be thy mate.

“Therefore, relying upon thy promise to protect my people, but realising at last that nothing can save them from the fate that will be theirs, I come to thee, O my beloved, to be thy wife. Yes, and where thou wilt go, I will go—to Motutaiko, or to the island in the Waikato, or to the rock shelter of the Kaingaroa, or even to thine own people in the north, if need be.

“Moreover, because of the sacrifice which thou hast made, never again will I seek to influence thee in the spirit to give up Taupo and Tongariro. To thee thy dreams! To me my dreams! Enough, O Friend, enough!”

She waited for a moment, and then she addressed herself to Marama:

page 301

“O Beautiful One! Have pity on thy brother, even though in thy heart there is no pity for me! Nay, be just to him, for not once during all his days of trial did he forget his duty to his tribe; no, not once, though I tempted him and tempted him! As for myself, remember that I too am a Puhi maiden, with duties to my people, even as thou! Therefore, enough from Rerémoa!”

Marama wept. Yes, she wept for her brother, and she wept for Rerémoa. Aué! To think that in her thoughts and in her speech she had been so cruelly unjust to them both!

Penitent, determined to make amends, she lifted her hand, and at once there came from Rata an order. A moment of suspense, then the warriors dipped their paddles and backed the canoe in, stern first.

Springing lightly ashore Marama ran towards her brother, and threw herself into his arms, clinging to him, and sobbing as she made clear to him her remorse. Presently, she turned from him, and made a step forward, and hesitated. Then she gave a cry of astonishment, for in the hands of Rerémoa was now a casket, a carved casket, which she had carried within the folds of her shoulder-cape.

Amazed, Marama called out to Rata, and from its place of honour in the stern of the canoe was lifted up another casket, identical in shape and size and carving with the one which Rerémoa held.

Then did Tuwharétoa say:

“O Marama, know that the Puhi maiden of Ngatihotu and the Puhi maiden of Te Arawa are of kin to each other, both coming from the same ancestors of the distant past. The caskets also are of kin to each other, born of the same parent, indeed. Ah!”

Down from the mound moved Marama, and across page 302 to meet her went Rerémoa. At half-way they met, and there they wept over each other, then whispered to each other, then smiled happily at each otheruntil at last Marama looked up towards her brother upon the mound, and spoke tenderly, affectionately:

“O Manaia, my brother beloved, let all the words which I have said to thee about Rerémoa be as if they had never been spoken. Yes, now do I see that she is fit mate even for thee, the Ariki of Te Arawa.

“Now hearken, for we have arranged the day, and the place, and the time! Ah! It is the wish of the High Chief Nukutea that thou shouldst perform the ceremony thyself, seeing that thou art his senior in line of descent. And it is Rerémoa's wish that the marriage take place at the edge of the forest close to the outlet of a track that is known to thee—a lovely spot, she says, from which to gaze down upon Taupo Lake.

“Ah! And for witnesses, she desires merely the birds of the forest, and the first rays of the morning sun. A beautiful thought!

“And the day? The seventh day; at sunrise on the morning of the seventh day!

Taihoa! In her happiness, Rerémoa wishes the caskets to be united also, that they too may be happy. May I speak for thee, O my brother? Yes? Then let the caskets be placed together in a cave on Tongariro Mountain, there to end their days—in happy peace.

“Now greetings to thee, O Manaia, and to Rerémoa, and to the caskets, and to Hawaiki-Far-Away!”