by Sarah Lark
But on this day, he was too busy saying goodbye to his friends to pay attention to anyone else. The three young men exchanged hongi and fought back their tears.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” Eru asked.
Tamati and Kepa shook their heads. Both of them had seen more than enough of the North Island. Not that they regretted their adventures—they were proud to have proven themselves in battle. In retrospect, the reason for it seemed almost not to matter. Both of them had gotten more moko during their time in the prison camp. They weren’t nearly as perfect as the first; there were no experienced moko masters among the prisoners. But they had earned the tattoos honestly. Now it was written in the companions’ faces how courageously they had fought and had increased their mana. Their tribe would honor them accordingly. The most beautiful girls would be interested in them. Tamati and Kepa had been talking about nothing else for weeks. They were looking forward to seeing their tribe and their home. Tamati said he even missed the sheep.
It turned out to be easy for them to arrange the crossing to the South Island. The two young men had been paid for their interpreting services, and now had enough money for the ferry to Blenheim. They would be on the South Island in just a few hours, far from the war.
Eru envied them as they went aboard, chatting cheerfully, and watched as the ship disappeared on the horizon. Perhaps he should have gone with them . . . Eru allowed himself a moment of weakness and dreamed of the Ngai Tahu village, the openness of the plains, the sheep herds, and the spiritual sites that their rangatira had showed them. But the image of Mara appeared in his mind. How she’d suddenly appeared on her horse when he should have been meditating . . . He dreamed about making love to her on holy ground, her smile, the sound of the koauau when she played her little melody. He couldn’t abandon her! Even if she didn’t love him anymore. He had to hunt down Te Ori and take the girl out of his clutches. Afterward, Mara could decide for herself. Eru’s moko began to itch again. Perhaps everything would have gone differently in Waikoukou if he hadn’t frightened her with his new face.
Distracted, he made his way to army headquarters. In the entryway, he almost walked into a young, dark-haired pakeha. The man politely allowed him to pass. A lieutenant showed him to Colonel Herbert’s office. When the dark-haired man entered the waiting area close behind, he smiled at Eru.
“It seems we’re going in the same direction,” he said. “Do you speak English?”
Eru nodded. “They want to offer me a job.”
“Then you’re better off than I am,” the other remarked. “I have to ask them for one.”
The office door opened before he could explain any further. Eru stepped inside, prepared for the usual shock his moko elicited. But Colonel Herbert didn’t react. Apparently, he’d already recruited enough kupapa troops in his time that a tattooed face was nothing new for him.
“You’re the young man who speaks excellent English,” Herbert said after Eru had introduced himself. “Captain Tanner says you want to work for us.”
“Maybe,” Eru said. “I won’t fight for you, but I would like to help make sure no one else is killed. But first I have to go to Taranaki.”
Colonel Herbert nodded. “Actually, Major McDonnell is planning a retaliatory campaign in Taranaki. The colony on the Patea River was attacked. It’s quite certain that a still-active Hauhau unit was behind it. McDonnell believes there’s a hidden pa somewhere near Hawera. He asked for auxiliary troops to help ferret them out. Maori trackers as well. Wonderful people, and amazing trackers.”
Eru sat up straighter. That was exactly what he needed—or would have before. Any traces that Te Ori and the girls might have left must be long gone.
“Unfortunately, they don’t speak English,” the colonel said, “which makes it difficult to work with them. If you agree to help us, I could send you with them.”
Eru didn’t have to think about it for long. It was unlikely that Te Ori was still camping in the wilderness with the girls. He must have brought them to some village or pa. The trackers would be able to find the group, which—under Te Ori’s influence—was probably the same one that had attacked the military settlers.
“I’m your man, sir.”
Eru left the room as Private Eriatara.
The dark-haired pakeha, who was waiting outside, winked at him. “Congratulations.”
Apparently, he’d overheard.
“Good luck to you too,” Eru replied, and watched as the man disappeared into Herbert’s office.
He carefully folded the registration form and put it in the pocket of his linen trousers. Then he paused and listened curiously to the conversation between the colonel and the dark-haired man. It was the visitor who spoke first.
“I’m Bill Paxton, sir. I wrote to you.”
Eru’s jaw dropped as he listened to a story he could hardly believe. This man was looking for Carol and Mara too!
“Therefore, I beg you to take me back into service,” Paxton finally concluded. “My previous rank was lieutenant. I would like to work under Major McDonnell.”
Herbert huffed in annoyance. “Mr. Paxton, it’s not that easy! This is the English army. You can’t just come and go as you please. And you can’t choose your superiors either. You didn’t like General Cameron, so you left. You seem to prefer McDonnell, so you want to join again?”
“Colonel Herbert, this isn’t about me. It’s only about the two women.” Paxton’s voice sounded desperate.
“And you’re the only one who can help them?” the colonel asked doubtfully. “Mr. Paxton, you can rest assured, if two women are being held prisoner in one of those villages, they will soon be freed and you will get your girlfriend back. McDonnell is leading a few hundred soldiers against the Hauhau. It makes no difference whether you are there or not.”
“For me it does!” Paxton declared.
Herbert sighed. “Fine. But I’m not saying that you’re reinstated. You left, and you can’t be an officer anymore. In a few days, I will be sending a convoy of Maori auxiliary troops to Patea. As far as I’m concerned, you can join them. As a private citizen. In Patea, you can talk to McDonnell. Maybe he’ll decide to take you with him on his campaign. The old warhorse likes stubborn people. In any case, I hope that these women are still alive, but after such a long time, Mr. Paxton, I suggest you not get your hopes up.”
Eru heard Bill Paxton thanking the man, and then quickly stepped away before Herbert could catch him eavesdropping. He waited for Paxton in the hall.
“You’re still here?” Bill asked in surprise.
Eru looked at him intently. “Carol Brandmann and Mara Jensch are still alive. The man you’re looking for is called Te Ori.”
The trackers departed the next day. They were a group of Ngati Poneke who came from the area north of Otaki. All the other tribes there had hated them for generations. No one knew why. But Eru had stopped asking such questions. At this point, he didn’t care to believe the Maori would ever unite as one people and reclaim Aotearoa from the pakeha. He hardly spoke with the men at all, but instead walked next to Bill’s horse. He listened to the story of Cat and Chris’s rescue with relief and joy.
“So, Linda was right about them being alive!” Eru declared. “How did my mother take it?”
Bill shook his head. “I have no idea. But I imagine she might go home when this is all over. The danger of your being married off to some sheep baroness is definitely past.”
Eru grinned. He’d told Bill his own story the day before, leaving out the worst parts. His new friend and ally didn’t need to know that he’d been part of Kereopa Te Rau’s entourage.
Their journey to Patea was uneventful. They didn’t visit any pakeha settlements, so Eru and Bill passed Otaki without a clue about Linda and the orphanage. For Bill, traveling cross-country with the New Zealand natives was a fascinating, new experience. He watched as they hunted, made fires, and foraged for food. So this was how Cat and Chris had survived on Rose Island. Carol, too, mu
st have been living this way for a year now. Bill felt closer to her as he put a tuatara on a stick and roasted it over the fire, with a slight twinge of disgust. He preferred the roots that were baking in the coals, even though they were a little bland without spices.
“Villagers cook much better in their maraes,” Eru said with a grin as Bill bit into a piece of lizard meat without great enthusiasm. “A warrior must eat whatever he finds or hunts along the way. And, of course, it’s much easier to cook when pots and pans are available.”
“Another reason not to throw the pakeha into the sea,” Bill joked. “Before we came, you all lived in the Stone Age!” But his smile fell away when he saw Eru’s face.
“Your people brought many useful things,” Eru said gravely. “But that’s no excuse to treat mine like children. And children shouldn’t be abused or lied to either.”
Patea had changed considerably since Bill had last seen it over a year ago. Cameron’s army camp had become a combination military base and village. There was a post office, a general store, a barbershop, and a bank for the settlers. There were also two pubs, one of which even rented rooms. Bill invited Eru for a pakeha meal while they waited for McDonnell to have time for them. The Irish stew was unexpectedly good. The innkeeper’s wife had made it.
“Definitely better than tuatara,” Eru admitted.
Bill took a room at the inn, and Eru slept with the kupapa in the troops’ quarters. The next morning, he left a message for Bill saying he and the trackers had been called to McDonnell’s office. Bill decided to tag along.
The major eyed the only pakeha and civilian who entered his office with the group of trackers. He noticed Eru too. Unlike the kupapa troops, who combined English uniform jackets with their traditional garb, the young man was wearing a full private’s uniform.
To everyone’s surprise, McDonnell addressed the trackers in Maori. He didn’t speak the language fluently, but it was doubtless good enough to lay out the strategy for his campaign. Unsurprisingly, then, the major was unmoved when Eru introduced himself as an interpreter.
“I didn’t request one. And certainly not one like you,” he said rudely. “You smell like trouble, boy. What’s wrong with you?”
Eru’s jaw clenched. “I know what you mean, sir,” he said stiffly. “I think in Wellington they just didn’t know how well you speak Maori. That’s not very common, and not usually necessary—”
“In order to shoot Maori, you mean?” the major said, interrupting him. “I prefer to understand my enemies. That way, you don’t get taken by surprise as often. But back to you. You’re hardly out of the cradle, and already tattooed like a warrior who has roasted at least five chieftains on a spit. That smells like Hauhau, boy. What made you change sides?”
Eru lowered his eyes.
“Love, it seems,” Bill Paxton interjected. “Please allow me to speak for this young man, sir. We share a mission.”
McDonnell listened to Bill’s explanation without interrupting him. When the young man was finished, he frowned.
“The tale of Cameron’s missing girls. To be honest, I’ve almost stopped believing it. First they were supposed to be in Weraroa, then Waikoukou.”
“They were definitely in both places,” Eru said. “The man that kidnapped them escaped before Waikoukou was stormed.”
“And it’s entirely possible that Te Ori is behind the recent attacks on your settlements,” Bill added. “He’s the most brutal kind of warrior. It was he who led the attack on the prisoner convoy when our soldiers were brutally murdered and beheaded. I was there a few hours later, sir. It wasn’t a pretty sight.”
McDonnell mulled this over for a moment. “I trust you, Paxton. Get a weapon issued to you and join as an observer, as long as I don’t order you to do something else. But you”—he turned to Eru—“I don’t trust. You’re going to have to prove your loyalty. For now, you will stay with the kupapa, translate a little, and if things get serious, then we’ll see how it goes. You may leave now.” He dismissed Bill and Eru with a flick of his wrist and said goodbye to the trackers in their own language. “Haere ra!”
“He’s a tough old goat,” Bill said outside. “If anyone can find the last few Hauhau nests, it’ll be him.”
“He’ll find the villages,” Eru said with a nod. “The question is if he’ll find Te Ori. He’s already escaped twice. He won’t just be sitting in the marae with the girls, waiting for us.”
Chapter 71
The attackers were supposed to be hiding out north of Hawera, and even the best path turned out to be extremely challenging. Bill was amazed at how stoic the Maori warriors were, marching for hours through the jungle and crossing rivers in the pouring rain. It was the end of July, the depths of winter in New Zealand. The weather wasn’t very kind to McDonnell and his mixed force of Patea and Whanganui rangers, military settlers, and kupapa Maori. The major had taken reinforcements for his settlers wherever he could find any, and was now leading an entire army through the wilderness.
Bill feared he’d reached the end of his stamina when, at long last, the trackers were finally asked to use their skills. The specially trained Maori warriors, reinforced by pakeha forest rangers, scoured the woods for the faintest signs of human occupants. They quickly found hunters’ traps and then fresh footpaths. The warriors scouted ahead and then led the major and a few officers away. Bill, who was allowed to join them, saw a pa rise up through the evening mist like a haunted castle. It was clearly well defended and would be difficult to capture due to the thick forest surrounding it and its elevated position.
“We’d be trying to storm it for weeks,” one of the younger captains said pessimistically. “And then they’d disappear in the middle of the night through some holes.”
McDonnell shook his head. “No, Captain. That happens to other people. That won’t happen to me. Do you know why, Captain? Because I don’t play by the rules anymore. Let’s go back to the troops now. Paxton, you’ll send your young friend over. It will be interesting to see whose side he’s on.”
Eru’s heart was pounding with fear, and he felt guilty as he stood at the gates to the pa with a delegation of officers. McDonnell had marched his army up but hadn’t begun shooting. Instead, he sent negotiators. He just hoped the holdouts in the fort wouldn’t send back the heads of his delegates smoked and shrunken.
But as it turned out, the negotiators were received hospitably. Te Ori was nowhere in sight, and an older chieftain with his tribal elders greeted them and led them into a part of the pa that was more like a typical marae. Eru saw a few warriors, but above all, women and children lived here. Apparently, they were preparing a powhiri.
“Haere mai to Pokokaikai pa,” the ariki said in greeting. He was a dignified older man whose face was adorned with faded moko. He shook the officers’ hands in the pakeha manner and exchanged hongi with Eru. “Why are you standing at our gates with an army? What have we done to you?”
An officer spoke, and Eru translated. “There have been attacks on a settlement on the Patea River. We have reason to believe that the attackers came from this area.”
“I didn’t send them,” the chieftain said firmly, looking Eru in the eye.
Eru forced himself to return the steely gaze. “Are you denying that you support Te Ua Haumene?” he asked. The niu on the meeting ground where they were standing was impossible to miss.
“The prophet is in Akarana, the place you call Auckland. It’s said that he’s ill and will die soon,” the chieftain replied.
Eru translated the words for the officers, then added, “He’s slippery as an eel.” He turned back to the chieftain. “So, you haven’t taken in any Hauhau warriors?”
“A warrior doesn’t need the protection of a pa,” the chieftain said.
“That’s not an answer!” the captain who was leading the delegation said angrily after Eru had translated.
Eru tried a different tack. “We have reason to believe that you are holding two white women captive.”
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bsp; The chieftain’s eyes widened; he was either indignant or afraid. Eru was confident that he’d guessed correctly: the old man had helped the Hauhau warriors, but he didn’t approve of Te Ori.
“Look around,” the ariki said, challenging the men. “You won’t find any white women here.”
Eru shrugged. “Perhaps we’re wrong. But we’d like to make sure. Maybe we’ll question a few warriors and look around, as you so generously suggest.”
The chieftain nodded. “Haere mai,” he said again majestically. “You are welcome here.”
That evening, Eru and the officers ate and drank with the people of Pokokaikai. They watched their dances and listened to their songs. A tohunga invoked the bond of friendship between the residents and Major McDonnell’s men. Eru explained his origins and was warmly received by the community. The captain formally exchanged hongi with the chieftain.
“Unbelievable! They’re pulling the wool over their eyes. If nothing happens, the soldiers will leave tomorrow and we’ll be trapped here forever.”
Carol furiously punched the heavy wooden door that was blocking their way out of an empty weapons storage room. The women had been dragged there as soon as McDonnell’s delegation had been sighted. As usual, Te Ori’s wife Hera had capitulated to his wishes. She had helped him hide the slaves, even though she would have preferred to finally be rid of them.
“You’re just going to hurt your hands,” Mara said.
The girls sat in a corner of the room, arms around each other. They had been fighting for months, defending themselves against Te Ori and trying to get the women in Pokokaikai on their side, but the warrior’s influence had been greater than their own. As Carol and Mara had soon realized, Pokokaikai was actually the marae where Te Ori had been born and raised, and where his family still lived. In England, it would have been called a fortified town. When they’d first arrived, the pa was hardly manned at all, and only after the fall of Waikoukou had a large number of Hauhau warriors taken refuge there. But Carol and Mara were being kept in the civilian area of the fort.