The Sacrifice

by Joanna Orwin

  The Travellers meekly followed Utaru to a thatched shelter where he handed out woven baskets and short, wooden digging implements. Similarly armed, all the brown-skins set out for the corner of the nearest field. Lee didn’t bother accompanying them, but again made for the nearest shade tree. If he was meant to supervise the workers, he clearly saw no need to take the task seriously. Taka thought they must have been mistaken, that these brown-skinned people weren’t enslaved after all, but willing workers. He had forgotten what Harris had said about their women being traded to the mysterious Choi people over the ridge.

  At the corner of the field, the brown-skins gathered in a silent group while Utaru chanted a long prayer in a language with a cadence that reminded Taka of the way they spoke at home, although he couldn’t understand much. He thought he heard the word kuma, or Something similar, repeated many times, and looked more intently at the mounded plants growing in neat rows — so this was the sacred plant they’d been sent to fetch. Its wedge-shaped leaves and trailing tendrils looked ordinary and he realized he’d been expecting Something spectacular, Something more deserving of their epic voyage.

  Selecting a vigorous plant growing separately from the others, Utaru gathered up its leaves and stems into a bunch, then carefully dug its underlying knobbly tubers out of the earth. It was only then that Taka noticed the small stone figure squatting behind the mound of soil, hands clasped across a protruding stomach. The figure was roughly carved from crumbly red rock that he recognized as belonging to the fire-goddess, and he made the demon-averting sign where no one could see him. These warm and welcoming people might be distant kin, but the Travellers shouldn’t forget they worshipped different gods.

  Utaru suspended his dug-up plant on a pole beside the small god-figure, and the other brown-skins took the Travellers by the hands, linking them into their circle while they all chanted, the voices of men and women blending together. When they finished, they allocated someone to each of the youths to show them what to do. Taka was taken in hand by a smiling young man who said his name was Rauwai.

  The morning wore on while they worked their slow way along the rows, carefully digging out the tubers formed under each plant. Whenever Taka and his instructor filled their basket, they carried it over to the shelter where old women were sorting and cleaning the tubers. The autumn sun burned hot, the digging was back-breaking and the baskets were heavy, but the workers sang and told stories that helped the hours to pass. Taka asked many questions to take his mind off the ache developing in buttocks and thighs unaccustomed to such labour, despite long hours of weight training.

  Rauwai said they called themselves Mara people. ‘We’re gardeners, and that’s the old language for gardens.’

  When Taka asked what they got in return for supplying Sanctuary with their surplus produce, Rauwai’s face lost its smile for the first time. He gestured at the fields that occupied the whole of the broad terrace and stretched up the mountain slopes as far as Taka could see. ‘Sanctuary takes all the harvest as tribute.’

  ‘Tribute? All of it?’ Taka struggled to get his head around such an unfair system. ‘Surely you keep aside enough for yourselves?’

  ‘The Mister takes it all.’ Rauwai checked each item off his fingers. ‘These tubers, plus the yams and gourds from those fields further along the terrace. Then there’s the taro we grow over there against the change in slope, where water ponds. We Mara do all the work.’ He glanced across the field to where Lee slept under the tree. ‘You must’ve noticed that the Sanctuary people do nothing.’

  Taka nodded slowly, then risked offending his instructor. ‘Why do you put up with it?’

  ‘What choice do we have?’ Rauwai frowned. ‘The Misters control everything. As long as we do the work then pay the required tribute, they leave us alone. Our elders say Mister Goddard is the greediest of the lot, that earlier Misters at least left us a portion of the harvest for our own use.’ He pointed out his small village, nestled below them in the head of the next bay. ‘Down there is the only place we can pretend we’re free. Sanctuary people don’t bother us there.’

  Troubled by what he’d just been told, Taka gazed down the long slopes of the mountain, absorbing the harbour laid out below them like a map, the stone-built sprawl of Sanctuary softened by shade trees and its bright patches of garden, and the smaller, modest thatched houses of the Mara settlements in the heads of the neighbouring bays. In the warm golden light of the afternoon sun, the scene was idyllic. But when he turned to look up at the twin summits of the mountain with their light-absorbing black rocks and the ominous shadows cast by the red-stained cloud that had capped them for days now, they seemed a truer reflection of life on this island.

  Later, when they’d finished work for the day, they gathered while Utaru cooked the tubers from the first plant and placed them at the foot of the stone god-figure. Afterwards, the Travellers were taken further along the terrace until they were directly above Rauwai’s village. There the women built a fire and cooked enough bruised and rejected kuma tubers to feed everyone.

  Rauwai told Taka these meagre few baskets were all they were allowed. ‘And that’s only because cooking some tubers from the first harvest serves as thanks to Rongo and Pere.’

  When Taka cautiously questioned this reference to the fire-goddess, Rauwai explained. ‘Pere’s fires ensure that Rongo’s cultivations remain fruitful. Soils formed on her mountains are the most fertile of all.’

  Rongo must be the equivalent of Kahu, in his role as god of cultivation — confirmation that this was the island they had been sent to find. Taka focused on enjoying the unfamiliar nutty sweet taste of the kuma, buoyed by yet more evidence that the Mara were indeed kin to them.

  While they sat in a companionable silence, eating and quenching their thirst with fermented juice of some sort brought to them in gourds, his eyes were drawn to a tumbled-down stone building standing on a prominent knob in the distance, overlooking Sanctuary and the harbour. Despite its ruined state, he could see its construction was different from any of the buildings in the settlement. Rauwai told him it was the old church, abandoned after the Battle of the Gods.

  Kai sitting nearby pricked up his ears. ‘Old church? Harris said Something about churchers. Who are they?’

  Rauwai made a demon-averting gesture. ‘There haven’t been any since the battle.’

  When Kai pressed him, the Mara youth told them they’d apparently been foreign worshippers of a stern god. ‘The stories say those churchers lived in the villages with our people and turned them away from the true gods. They destroyed all our shrines and banned our rituals; they said their one god was a saviour and we should trust only in him or face eternal punishment in the After-World.’

  ‘What happened?’ asked Taka.

  Rauwai looked up the slope at the plume of steam capping the twin summits. ‘After the Mara of those times abandoned our gods, Pere took her vengeance, and then Tanga brought up his forces against her. Although those churchers prayed long and hard to their god, he did nothing to save them, and he couldn’t prevent the Battle of the Gods. He was helpless against the power of the old gods, so our ancestors knew then they were the true gods.’

  When the churchers’ threats proved hollow, the survivors of the battle turned against them and slew the few who remained, then tore down their futile shrines. ‘We leave that one ruin there to remind us of the consequences of losing faith in the true gods.’

  Kai made no comment, but later, when the Travellers had returned to the hen house on the outskirts of Sanctuary, he brought the subject up again. His eyes bright with indignation, he said, ‘They might have got rid of those churchers, but the Misters took over their power. The Mara just swapped one form of tyranny for another.’

  A whole week went by before the kuma harvest was finished, and during that time the Travellers were too weary to fit in any canoe practice. They had to concede that the Mister’s tactic was working. Taka distracted himself by asking more searching questions of Rauwai
once he felt they truly had each other’s confidence. After skirting around the subject of the Mister’s daughter for some time, he dared ask what the Mara youth knew of her.

  To his surprise, Rauwai blenched, then made a hasty demon-averting gesture. ‘She’s the reason the current Mister gained such complete power over us.’

  ‘I don’t Understand.’ Taka shook the surplus soil from the tubers he’d just dug up and placed them in the basket.

  ‘You only have to look at her.’ When Taka kept his face carefully blank, sure that he hadn’t betrayed his interest in her, Rauwai explained. ‘She’s a true daughter of the fire-goddess, isn’t she? When Cleo was born, the elders knew she was a reincarnation of Pere — she couldn’t be anything else with that fire-coloured hair and golden skin. And if anyone doubted it, their disbelief soon disappeared when the mountain welcomed her birth by erupting. Sanctuary was never in danger, of course, but it was only the Mister’s intervention that deflected the wave of red-hot molten rock away from our village.’

  Taka looked up at the solidified flow of black rock pointed out by Rauwai. He could see that it changed direction not far below the summit, then petered out in a shallow gully that led it away from the cultivated slopes and the village at the head of the bay below. Even Kai would be impressed by such signs of the Mister’s power, let alone this evidence of his daughter’s divine heritage. Another thought struck him: it would be such a coup to gain the support of the fire-goddess’s daughter. She would be far stronger an ally than Harris or any of the Mara. Taka barely had time to relish such justification for pursuing her, when he realized there was someone else he’d need to win over. ‘I’ve not set eyes on Cleo’s real mother. Doesn’t she live in the compound with them?’

  Rauwai shook his head. ‘She died soon after Cleo was born. Our elders tell us that in itself was a sure signal she was merely the human conduit for the goddess’s offspring.’

  ‘They seem close — the Mister and his daughter?’ Taka risked more probing.

  ‘What else would you expect?’ Rauwai looked askance at him. ‘She’s the daughter of the goddess so he ensures all her wishes and wants are met. Watch out anyone who stands in her way. They’d have the Mister to answer to.’

  Although Rauwai’s tone made it clear he meant this as a warning, Taka took heart from his words.

  That evening as they made their way down the path back to Sanctuary, Lee told them they wouldn’t be needed in the cultivations any more, that the Mara knew not to expect them the next day. ‘The Mister has allowed some seed tubers to be put aside for you. Not that you’re likely to win that race. This whole exercise has been a waste of time, if you ask me.’

  ‘No one is asking you,’ said Matu, making sure he was heard.

  ‘Crow all you like. You’re nothing but a cock on a dung heap.’ Lee’s lips curled back from his stained teeth in a grin that had no humour in it. ‘You mightn’t be asking, but I’m telling you. Waste of time — all of it.’ His black eyes glittered. ‘The Mister should stop messing about. All the signs show that Pere grows hungry. She’d probably welcome a change of diet.’

  Even before he finished speaking, the mountain above them rumbled ominously. Taka looked up in time to see a billow of sparks belch from the summit, accompanied by a renewed wail from the steam columns in Sanctuary. He felt a twinge of unease.

  Kai faced the spear carrier and challenged him. ‘Care to explain what you mean?’

  Lee grinned again. ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’ He strutted off towards the settlement, leaving them to make their own way back to their lodgings.

  Matu stared after him, then shrugged. ‘If anyone’s a cock on a dung heap, it’s that fellow. Take no notice.’

  Although Taka was sad they’d not been given a chance to farewell their newly found Mara kin, he looked forward to starting training once more. Matu was right to tell them to ignore Lee’s idle threats and warnings. They mightn’t have trained on the canoe recently, but despite the Mister’s attempt to undermine them, they’d developed more muscle strength working with the Mara, and their morale had been boosted by contact with people who thought like them and had made them welcome. Everything about Utaru and his people reminded them of home, and that in itself had firmed their resolve. They would still prove a challenge to any local team, including Dyer and his élite crew. It wouldn’t take long to hone their skills again.

  But Taka wasn’t to take part in further canoe practices. The very next morning, Harris came to fetch him. ‘Mister Goddard has other plans for you.’

  Bewildered, Taka looked at him, sensing a note of pity.

  Without blinking an eye, Harris said, ‘It seems his daughter fancies having a dance troupe of her own. So Mister Goddard wants you to train some of our young boys to dance the way you do.’

  ‘But what about the canoe training?’ asked Taka, his heart starting to beat painfully. Was this another attempt by the Mister to disrupt their chances of winning the challenge, or did it mean the local gods were on their side? He tried to suppress his rising hope that, at the very least, it meant Cleo hadn’t rejected him after all.

  ‘The others will have to manage without you,’ said Harris. ‘Get your things. You’ll be staying in the Mister’s compound from now on.’

  Accompanied by Kai, the bemused Taka went to collect his few belongings, including his waist pouch containing its protective amulets and the god stick.

  Kai said quietly, ‘Be careful. I don’t much like this latest tactic from the Mister.’ He indicated the pouch. ‘Make sure you keep those with you at all times.’

  Taka raised his eyebrows and Kai picked up on his unspoken thought. ‘They’ll keep you focused. Don’t get diverted from why we’re here. We’re committed to taking the sacred food plant home.’

  ‘I didn’t think you took our mission seriously.’ Taka looked curiously at his cousin.

  Kai coloured slightly. ‘It’s different now, isn’t it — we made it here safely and we’ve a real chance of returning.’ He hesitated for a moment, then his words came in a rush. ‘I liked digging about in the soil, getting earth on my hands. I like the whole idea of growing stuff. All that.’ For once Kai was struggling to express himself. He paused again, then said, more slowly this time, ‘The Mara might be slaves, but they’ve retained their dignity, haven’t they? I ended up feeling proud to be their kin.’

  Taka opened his mouth to respond, but Kai had regained control of his words. Enthusiasm brightened his voice. ‘I think the Wise One was right. Growing food plants is the way of the future. It’s not just kuma we need to take back. Utaru showed me the plots of taro they grow wherever it’s swampy. I reckon taro could prove even more valuable than kuma.’

  Taka tried to lighten the mood. ‘Are you saying you of all people have found your god-given destiny?’

  He expected to hear Kai’s wry laugh at the jibe, but his cousin nodded, his face still serious. ‘I know now how you feel about your dancing. I want more than anything to take these plants home. That’s why I’m warning you to be careful: I don’t trust that girl.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Taka, ‘I’ll be careful.’ What he’d just been told firmed his resolve to win over the Mister’s daughter. For the first time in his life, he was in a position to do Something significant for Kai. It was a good feeling.

  Although Taka had grown strangely fond of the hen house and its familiar smells, he had to admit his new accommodation was an improvement. Harris ushered him into a small room at the end of a long, narrow stone building lined with doors that led onto the open gathering place. The square room had just enough space for a timber-framed cot against one wall and a stool placed below the small window set opposite the door. A couple of shallow alcoves built into the walls provided storage.

  The spear carrier watched him as he stood in the doorway, clutching his bits and pieces to his chest. Harris nodded at the bundle. ‘Best get rid of that rubbish,’ he said, his voice not unkind. ‘You’ll be provided with clothing m
ore suited to your new station in life.’

  ‘What do you mean — new station in life?’ asked Taka. The phrase sounded ominously permanent. ‘This is just until the canoe race, right?’

  ‘How would I know?’ Harris shrugged. ‘You’re the Mister’s dancer now, that’s all I’ve been told.’ He turned to go. ‘Wait here until someone comes to fetch you. Latrine’s down the other end.’

  Left alone, Taka sat down on the mats spread out on the cot, his thoughts in a whirl. Then he made himself relax. Hadn’t the Mister said they’d be sent home if they won the canoe race? That would surely take place within the week, since Mister Goddard was unlikely to give the Travellers the advantage of much more practice time. It would take only a few weeks after that to prepare two canoes for departure. It didn’t cross Taka’s mind that they might not win. Dyer’s team was good, but he was confident that, with Tanga’s support, they could be beaten. Besides, the Travellers had more at stake, which would give them an edge. It didn’t cross his mind that he might not be allowed to compete. He was already thinking about how he could impress the Mister and his daughter even more with his dancing skills. Perhaps this was how he would win Cleo over and ensure their future. Who would have thought his destiny was to become a dance master like his father? He’d do his best so he could go home with stories that would make Moho proud.

  Taka jumped when a shadow darkened the doorway. A spear carrier he didn’t recognize thrust a small pile of clothing at him. ‘Here — you’re to change into these.’

  Taka took the short, bark-cloth tunic and several loincloths, then stood looking at them. The spear carrier, a man younger than Harris, ruddy-skinned with fair eyebrows that matched the bleached stubble on his skull, said impatiently, ‘Hurry up! Mister Goddard doesn’t like being kept waiting.’

  Changing as fast as he could, Taka fastened his belt with its precious pouch around the loose, sleeveless tunic, then followed his guide out into the gathering place. Somewhat apprehensive, he looked around for the boys he was expecting, but the space was empty and the spear carrier was striding across it, heading for a flight of steps Taka hadn’t noticed before. These led up to the large buildings he knew formed the Mister’s personal compound. They emerged into a small, private courtyard where he could see Mister Goddard and his usual retinue sitting on benches shaded by trees. His heart beat faster, but Cleo wasn’t with them.