Adventures of Grace Quinlan and Lord William Hayden on the Isles of Polynesia (Tale of the Birdmen) Volume 4

by Freda, Paula

  The giant hesitated, then shrugging, replied, "I could have, but I was not sure the others would not try to help you. And in fact, they took turns guarding you, so I had to dispose of them first. And now that you have the egg, and there is no one here to interfere, I can dispose of you as well."

  "And what will you tell the villagers when you return alone?"

  "Many of my ancestors who set out to bring back the egg often did not return. As you have already learned, it is not an easy venture. I will tell my fellow villagers simply that some of the men succumbed to the elements—and you killed the rest."

  Tunai's wife had begged him not to kill her husband, but if Tunai had once held a conscience that allowed his wife to love him, it was defunct. The man had grown ruthless.

  "Tell me," Lord Hayden asked, "Did any of the villagers who brought you supplies inform you that Tesk killed my woman?"

  Tunai did not answer readily, as if debating his reply. Finally he said, "I might as well tell you so your spirit will rest. She is alive."

  The three men who had continued to bring him food, had told Lord Hayden that Tesk had chased Grace to the top of the Orongo Cliffs and that she had fallen to her death into the strait below. Both relief and confusion registered on Lord Hayden’s bearded face. "Grace is alive?" he said. A moment later his mouth twisted into a sneer as he recalled the wrenching anguish Tesk and his henchman had caused him. "Where is she?" he drawled menacingly.

  "We don’t know," Tunai replied. Professor Tesk only lied to cover up her escape. He intends completing the deed. You and she are too much of a threat to his plans."

  With the egg safely lodged in the small space in the rock, Tunai sized up Lord Hayden for the kill. Hayden was a worthier adversary than his predecessors were. "Will you die quickly with one thrust of my knife, or do you prefer to struggle?"

  Lord Hayden grinned from the side of his mouth. Grace was alive. More than ever he valued his life. "I think I’ll struggle."

  Tunai lunged for Hayden’s throat. Hayden ducked and rammed a powerful right into Tunai’s midriff, eliciting a growl from his opponent, more from frustration than pain. Lord Hayden nursed his knuckles, certain they had been pulverized. Tunai must have a stomach of steel. He did not have time to think on the matter for Tunai lunged again and this time managed to grip Hayden’s throat and began to squeeze, blocking Hayden’s air supply and threatening to snap his neck. Gasping for air, Lord Hayden brought up a knee into the man’s most vulnerable spot. Tunai paused squeezing, an expectant look on his face. He was waiting for the pain to register.

  "Blast!" Hayden gasped as Tunai grinned. Obviously he had steel testicles as well. Tunai tightened his hold on Hayden’s throat, inducing such pain that the archaeologist’s dark eyes bulged. Reflexively and in desperation, Lord Hayden brought both fists into Tunai’s face, hitting him in the temples. Caught between two battering rams, the hopu manu’s dark pupils crossed. Taking advantage of Tunai’s momentary weakness, Lord Hayden yanked the giant’s hands from his throat, falling back as he clutched at his chest, attempting to regain his breath. His windpipe felt permanently depressed.

  Tunai in the meantime fell to his knees, holding his head and shaking it, trying to clear it. Lord Hayden was not sure Tunai knew anymore what he was doing, whether his next actions were voluntary or instinctive. But the giant rose to his feet, his mouth contorting into a snarl. Lord Hayden could have sworn the creature had horns as it growled like an enraged bull and rushed toward him, intent upon goring him. Not fully recovered, Lord Hayden jumped out of Tunai’s path. The giant could not control his momentum; he hit the rocks, crown first. The impact dislodged loose pieces of stone, but Tunai remained on his feet. Hayden swallowed with difficulty. Steel brains? he thought, preparing to die. Unsteadily, Tunai straightened and turned. He looked at Hayden, smiled, and then fell forward. After an apprehensive moment, Lord Hayden approached the figure, then cautiously bent over him and turned him over. The giant’s eyes were wide open. He continued to smile, but remained motionless. Lord Hayden checked his wrist for a pulse. There was none. Tunai was dead.

  Disheveled and bruised, bearing a hundred cuts, Lord Hayden climbed to an outcropping named "the cry of the bird." At his sight terns began circling their nests in a frenzy, shrieking and squealing, a white, swirling screaming mist. Hayden, following the instructions of the High Priest, cried out toward the sea. Mysteriously, one might say mystically, the terns silenced. Three times Lord Hayden called out toward the sea. "RONNE... TAPU... SHAVE YOUR HEAD." The wind would carry the cry of victory across the strait to the ears of a watcher on the Orongo Cliffs, and the cry repeated until it reached the village, and the new Tangata Manu.

  * * *

  The return trip to the village was more familiar, if not easier. All in the village had received the news. Ronne was now Tapu (sacred). He had shaved his head, his eyebrows and eyelashes, and donned the ceremonial cape over bare shoulders and a loincloth. A band of red tapa was tied to his arm, and into this band had been slipped a piece of sandalwood, a symbol of royalty. His scalp was painted red. The red and black paint on his face partially hid the semi-healed wound on his temple, but not the shame he felt for his failure to protect Grace as he had promised Lord Hayden. That shame shone clearly in his coal-black eyes as the villagers jubilantly escorted Lord Hayden into his presence. Hayden knelt before the sanctified birdman. Though he must complete the ceremony, the young student whispered as he extended his palm covered with a red tapa cloth, "Lord Hayden, it should be I kneeling before you, begging your forgiveness. Tesk knocked me unconscious. I should have been prepared. I’m a useless being." A sob escaped him. "Tesk... has killed Grace." He waited for Lord Hayden to react.

  Lord Hayden placed the sacred egg on the cloth over Ronne’s palm. He told him, "Grace is alive. And as soon as your year as head honcho is over, I expect you back in class. Understood?"

  A few seconds to ingest the wondrous news and a joyous smile broke across Ronne’s painted features. He took the egg and held it up for all to see. "People of Matakiterani, do not ever let a being like Tesk control your lives. He is a man like any other man. For his own greed he has tried to set you back into the dark ages. There will be no more human sacrifices. Make-Make is a God of Life, not death. Offer him the fruits of the earth and your talents. These will please him a thousand fold more than the lives of your brothers and sisters. Thus, this is my first decree: Release the sacrificial victims and rejoice!"

  The villagers went wild with appreciation, cheering and breaking into song and dance. Relatives of those chosen for sacrifice hurried off to free their kin and give them the good news. Lord Hayden moved quickly out of the way as the celebrants formed a processional to conduct Ronne to the Rano-Raraku Cliff. He would live there alone for a year, a holy, temperate life, and be served by the people, as a God-man, the keeper of the mana, the vital force of the year, a year to which he would give his name.

  And now, Lord Hayden asked himself," Where the hell is Grace?"

  For most of the villagers, Lord Hayden’s return brought renewed hope, but for the loved ones of the men that Tunai had murdered on Motu Nui, for these Lord Hayden’s return brought sorrow and anguish. Cornering him immediately after he had given the egg to Ronne, they asked why their men had not come back with him. Lord Hayden prayed he would never again have to be the deliverer of such heartbreak. In shock, slowly breaking into sobs, the kin of the dead men ambled to their boats to find and retrieve the bodies.

  Lord Hayden must bear to Alana as well the tidings of her husband’s death, and worse, Tunai’s foul deeds. He would need to warn her to leave the Island quickly. He suspected that when the villagers buried their dead, thoughts would turn to hatred and revenge.

  * * *

  In another part of the Island, Elizabeth bid goodbye to the family who had kept her hidden and sheltered after her escape from the Orongo Village. The news of Lord Hayden’s most recent exploit had swept across the Island, and Tesk had fled the village and was
nowhere to be found. No longer in danger, Elizabeth was anxious to locate Lord Hayden and resume her journey with him. In her opinion the first logical place to look for him was at Alana’s house. She trusted Tunai’s wife. Alana had discovered her exhausted and hungry and almost senseless on the moors, and led her to the safety of the trustworthy couple who had protected her.

  She was not surprised when no one answered her knock at Alana’s home. News of Tunai’s guilt had spread quickly throughout the Island. She suspected Alana had fled. To be sure, she knocked once more, with the same results, and then she tried the knob. The door opened. No one was home and nothing had been disturbed in the bedroom that she shared with Lord Hayden. Call it a scent, or a sensation; she felt he had recently been here. Perhaps he was out searching for her. She would stay in the house and wait for him to return. In the meantime, a cup of coffee was in order. She headed for the kitchen.

  The coffee cup never made it to her lips. The front door slammed open. Richard Tesk stood in the entrance, naked except for a muddied loincloth and cape. Wild eyed and disheveled, he moved fast. Before Elizabeth could scream, his hands had gripped her throat. Black eyes shrieking with rage, his gaze scanned her face. Here was the woman of the culprit who had deprived him of the empire he had begun creating. Lord Hayden and his pupil Ronne had turned the people of the Island against him.

  From early childhood he had idolized the conquerors in history—Alexander, Caesar, Napoleon. He, Tesk, was merely a lowly history teacher, but when he had arrived at Easter Island to do research and met the simple folk that inhabited this land, how easy it had proved with the aid of their folklore and religious beliefs to manipulate them. Now all was lost; his one opportunity in life to become a legend like the conquerors he idolized. Easter Island was to be a stepping-stone. From here he intended to spread his influence to other islands in the Pacific. His plan would take years. Unify the islands under his rule; bring back the old customs and religious practices that modern progress and civilization were slowly obliterating. In the end the history books would carry his name as well, logged together with the icons he revered. Gone! Six years of planning, swaying, forging. That strutting peacock and his mate had smashed his hopes into the dust. Well, he, Tesk, was not finished. Lord Hayden would learn what it meant to lose something you treasured. It was no secret that Grace was his most valued treasure.

  "Lord William Hayden will pay for his interference," Tesk snarled into Elizabeth’s face.

  His breath smelled of weeds and mud, and Elizabeth could guess that he had hidden in Rano-Kao’s swamp-like crater, among the reeds. No use reasoning with him. The face over hers was a contortion of madness. Elizabeth gasped, struggling to free herself. She tried to scream past the thumbs digging into her windpipe. Tesk buried her mouth under his. Elizabeth dug her nails into his face, ready to tear it off his skull if necessary. She drew blood and a growl, and a fist across her mouth. Her knees weakened under the force of the blow and the accompanying pain, and she tasted her own blood. Infuriated further with her struggles, Tesk ripped the front of her blouse, scattering buttons. He would kill her, of course, but first taste of the fruit Hayden so relished. Hayden would share blighted hopes to the fullest.

  Elizabeth’s vision was clouding. She doubted Tesk would succeed in violating her, as death by asphyxiation seemed iminent. She had stopped looking at his snarling face, preferring her last image to be the clear light of day visible through the open door, an extremely bright light, one not easily dismissed. Richard Tesk, too, noticed it from a corner of his eye, and he glanced over his shoulder. He had never seen any light quite like it. He had to get a closer look. He did not release his grip on Elizabeth’s neck, but pulled her roughly toward the door with him. Something fluttered within the light, a figure, humanoid, and its features opalescent, not clearly distinguishable. The shape seemed to be in constant movement, like film speeded up.

  Tesk was drawn to it, a moth to fire. His hands fell away from Elizabeth’s throat and stretched toward the shape. Elizabeth began to choke and cough as her compressed windpipe expanded. The light totally enveloped Tesk, bringing him face to face with the being. Weak and exhausted, Elizabeth leaned against the sun-bleached exterior of the door. What was that thing in the light? Its raiment was white as a cloud, and edged with a rainbow.

  In the distance, a figure on horseback appeared, riding toward Alana’s house. As the man on the horse caught sight of the woman leaning wearily against the weathered door, he kicked his mount into a gallop, rushing toward her. Elizabeth was not aware of Lord Hayden’s arrival. The light had steered her attention as well. It was a beautiful light, warm and beckoning. Hayden’s horse reared on its hind legs as the archaeologist pulled on the reins to halt it. The figure in the light turned suddenly and looked at the animal. The horse quieted. The apparition and the feeling of intense peace drawing her toward it mesmerized Elizabeth.

  Lord Hayden leapt off the horse and rushed toward her. "No! Grace, don’t!" The light filled her emerald eyes as well as her ears. There was only the light and the feeling of well being, as though nothing else mattered but to be one with the sphere. "Grace!" Lord Hayden cried, shaking her. "For God’s sake, Grace!" Lord Hayden turned to the figure in the light and pleaded, "Let her go, please." For one brief instant the figure stopped moving, and its features delineated. Lord Hayden saw it clearly. The two figures found in Mrs. Chola’s garden had been carved in the image of this creature. "Make-Make, I brought back the tern’s egg from Motu Nui in your commemoration, for your people’s prosperity. She is my beloved. Please let her go." His voice trembled.

  The Bird God heard him, yet he seemed to be listening further, as if he could hear nature itself speaking. A smile touched his mouth and he inclined his head. But as he glanced back at Tesk, encased with him, his pleasant semblance turned grim. The light intensified. The wings, stilled for that instant, fluttered rapidly, increasing in speed until the apparition blurred into invisibility and was gone.

  Torn from the euphoria, Elizabeth slumped against Lord Hayden. He tipped her chin up and heard her whisper his name. But he remembered that danger yet threatened.

  Tesk! Lord Hayden put the woman he loved behind him to shield her as he prepared to defend her. The light and the Bird God were gone, but Tesk, the history professor who had aspired to be a conqueror and a king, remained, standing very quiet, staring vacantly into thin air. Nothing was left of him but an empty shell, for all the cells in his brain had turned to ash.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  On the return trip to Hawaii, Hayden lazed on the deck of the ferry, with Grace beside him. A thin manuscript lay closed on his lap. He had just completed reading the first draft of her article on the artifacts discovered during their adventure on Easter Island. He yawned, stretching his long legs. Classes at Layton were scheduled to start on Monday of the following week. Mrs. Chola had invited them to stay at her home until their actual departure for the East Coast. He anticipated the exhibition on Oceanian artifacts that the college had begun planning immediately after his informative telephone call to the Dean. The intellectuals would visit the exhibit, the archaeologists among them would argue over the dating of the pieces and the identity of the Bird God’s figure that the college in collaboration with the local museum had purchased.

  "You know Grace, I never told the Dean what we saw that morning in front of Alana’s house.

  "Just as well," Elizabeth remarked. She pushed back some red gold strands that the strong sea breeze kept grasping at gently. They both still wore their khaki outfits—jacket, shirt, pants, although cleaned and pressed. "They’d think you were joking." she smiled, her emerald eyes widening with laughter.

  "You still maintain the being was an angel?" Lord Hayden asked.

  She nodded emphatically." Of the highest order."

  "It’s a quaint idea. And we never did find out how the two figures ended up in Mrs. Chola’s garden or their relation to the rest of the artifacts we dug up."

  Elizabeth shrug
ged. "Perhaps they were put there so we would find them. Perhaps Tesk was meant to be stopped."

  "You’re letting your imagination run away with you again," Lord Hayden pointed out. "How do we even know that the being in the cloud was Make-Make, just because the face on the figures unearthed topped a body with carvings reminiscent of the birdmen petroglyphs on Easter Island? The light was strong. You were in a trance. I was tired from the ordeal on Motu Nui."

  "He told me," Elizabeth said simply.

  The words registered and Lord Hayden pressed forward to hear her better. "Come again," he said.

  "He told me, William. The figures were planted in the past. Tesk had to be stopped or there would be severe repercussions in the future. You know, William dearest, we two are very important in the scheme of the universe."

  After the bizarre and intriguing adventures they had shared during the past two years, Lord Hayden knew better than to ask her to explain further. Whether her theories were sheer fantasizing, or true, he could never prove them either way. He had explored the past, brought back some uncommon artifacts, shared in a fascinating ancient ritual, helped a people in the process and saved Grace’s life, as well as his own. He had grown some. Grace Quinlan had that effect on him.

  Lord Hayden stood up. Preparing to speak his next words which felt more daunting than the giant he had faced in battle. But he was determined to persist, for Grace was the woman for whom he had waited all his life.

  "No," Elizabeth said, standing up as well. "Don’t."

  My God, she can read my mind, Lord Hayden thought, unaware of how his eyes, his face, his whole body effused love for her. So easy to foretell his next question.

  "No, not yet." Perhaps not ever, Elizabeth thought. Would he ask me to marry him if he knew who I really was, and the deception I have carried through? "NO," she said, her anxiety filling her voice.

  "Why, Grace?" Lord Hayden pleaded. "I know your feelings for me are as strong as mine for you." Once again the thought struck him.. "Are you married?" He knew her answer would be in the negative. He had asked her this question before, but never felt sure her answer was one hundred percent truthful because of the smile that accompanied that answer, as it did now; the kind of smile you gave a child who asked silly questions. "Then why not become my wife. Are you ill, is there something you continue to hide from me, something that keeps you from me."