by Sarah Lark
Bill shouted the names of his companions, knowing very well that the rushing of the water would drown out the sound of his voice. He couldn’t feel his legs anymore, and his fingers were cramping around Carol’s body. He couldn’t manage to hold on much longer.
It seemed to take forever until he spied Eru’s tattooed face on the riverbank. Bill thought he would cry with relief.
“Here!” he shouted. “We’re here! Don’t walk away, for God’s sake!”
Eru heard him. “Hold on! I’m going to try to make a rope.”
Eru took off his uniform jacket and pants, both made of strong, rough denim. He cut the material into strips with his knife and knotted them together. He could only hope that the weave was strong enough and that Bill had enough strength left to cling to it. The improvised rope was long enough to wind around his body. And fortunately, the stones Bill was braced against were no more than three yards from the bank. With Eru’s first toss, the rope struck Carol’s body. Bill caught it with one hand, holding onto the young woman with the other. He tried to wind it tightly enough around his hand that it wouldn’t come off when Eru pulled them to shore together, but that turned out to be impossible. Finally, he knotted the rope around the cord that bound Carol’s hands.
“Quickly!” he shouted to Eru.
Carol’s head would certainly go under water, but it was the only chance to save her. Eru nodded and pulled strongly as soon as Bill let go. For several seconds, the young warrior fought against the river and the weight of the body, but then he managed to haul Carol to land.
“She’s breathing!” he cried, and then untied the rope and threw it back to Bill, who used the last of his strength to help Eru get him out of the water.
Bill lay panting on the riverbank while Te Katonga and Eru focused their attention on Carol. He heard her cry of horror as she came to and saw their tattooed faces inches from hers.
Bill struggled to his feet. “I’m here, Carol! I’m with you!” He staggered over and fell next to her on his knees, laughing and crying at the same time with relief and exhaustion.
Chapter 73
Even though Carol was shaking with cold and Bill could still barely move, Eru and Te Katonga didn’t dare to light a fire.
“Te Ori would see it, even if we try to keep it small,” Eru said. “He’s an experienced warrior, and we’re very close now.”
“We’ve lost time,” Bill said worriedly.
It had taken them a while to make it back to the spot where Bill had jumped into the water. Eru had picked up his gun, but the backpack was still lying there. When Bill saw it, he smiled triumphantly and pulled out a flask of whiskey. He handed it to Carol.
The young woman took a powerful swig. A little color actually returned to her face. Eru drank as well. Te Katonga declined. The old warrior was already warmed by the thrill of the chase. There was a bend in the river there, and shortly beyond it he found the place where the raft had been lying.
“That was prepared,” Eru said. “Either by Te Ori himself or other warriors. There must be some kind of shelter on the other side of the river. We have to get across.”
Carol shook her head. “I can’t,” she whispered. “God forgive me, I love Mara, but I can’t make it . . .”
“Of course not,” Eru said. “I’ll swim by myself. I’m strong enough.”
Bill looked at him doubtfully but then concluded he was right. The river here wasn’t quite as fast, and Eru was extraordinarily strong. If Te Ori had managed to pole the raft across the river, Eru should be able to swim it.
“But you aren’t a tracker,” Bill said worriedly. “You’ll never find the trail again.”
“I just need to find the raft,” Eru replied.
“You could pole it back over to this side and get us,” Bill suggested.
Te Katonga, who’d been following, shook his head. “You don’t need a tracker anymore,” he told Eru. “The pekapeka will show you the way.”
He pointed to the other side of the river. There, the shore was sandy, and a small mountain rose above them. Halfway up, there was something that could be the opening of a cave. Eru would have never spotted it if not for the colony of bats flying out of it. Something must have scared them; it wouldn’t be twilight for quite some time.
“They’re in there,” Te Katonga said. “So, go, boy, and fetch your wife and the man’s head!”
Eru couldn’t bring his gun. It would have gotten wet in the river and become useless.
“The old weapons will have to be enough,” Te Katonga said calmly. “You will succeed. The spirits will be with you.”
Eru pressed his lips together. “I have to go now, before it gets dark.”
“It will be twilight by the time you reach the cave,” Te Katonga said. “The mountain looks steep, and it will take you longer than you think. But the spirits of the pekapeka will be with you.”
The old man made a gesture of blessing and offered Eru his face in hongi.
“Come back,” he said.
“Come back with Mara!” Carol said.
She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek, the way Mara had always done. Eru felt the kiss on the scarred skin of his moko. It felt different than it used to. But he didn’t have time to think about it. Eru waved to his companions again and slipped into the water.
Eru crossed the river with powerful strokes. It wasn’t easy. He, too, got caught in the same eddy that had thrown Carol from raft, and needed all his strength to fight against the current. When he finally reached the other side, the first thing he did was look for the raft. From there, he hoped to be able to pick up Te Ori’s trail. Eru could see the mountain in front of him, but he couldn’t make out the position of the cave anymore.
He finally found the raft slightly downriver. There were tracks around it that suggested a fight. It looked as though Mara had tried to throw herself into the water—either to save Carol or to die with her. Eru found torn-out strands of hair and drag marks. Mara must have thrown herself repeatedly to the ground so she wouldn’t have to follow her tormentor.
Then, suddenly, the trail of resistance ended. Only one set of tracks led away from the beach. Te Ori must have knocked the girl out and thrown her over his shoulder. He had surely made progress much more quickly that way. But she must have also weakened him. Eru hoped that it would give him an advantage if it came to a fight. He desperately needed one. His only weapons were a small, flat war club made of pounamu jade called a mere, and a knife. Te Ori surely had more, and he must also know how to use a whaika and a kotiate, which were far more effective in hand-to-hand combat. However, their use required significant skill. A warrior like Kereopa had handled them as lightly as a skilled fencer with a saber, but Eru had hardly ever used them, despite his experience with combat. Since the three friends from the South Island had been the only ones in Kereopa’s unit who’d known how to shoot guns, they’d been entrusted with the firearms.
Eru made his way through the jungle, losing Te Ori’s trail several times and then finding it again. Te Katonga was right. The cave was much farther than it had looked, and the path was steep. At least it had finally stopped raining. Eru, who was walking through the woods almost naked, thanked the spirits. When he had left the others at the river, Te Katonga had wordlessly passed him his own raupo-fiber skirt. It wasn’t appropriate for a warrior to face what might be the most important fight of his life wearing pakeha underwear. Eru was extremely grateful to the old man. Perhaps Te Ori would kill Eru, but at least he would die with dignity.
Eru felt as though he’d been climbing for hours, and when the daylight slowly faded, he also began to fear that he was lost. He should have reached the level of the cave by now. He had no idea whether it was to the left or right, a little higher, or already below him. But then, when twilight finally came, the old tracker’s prediction came true. He heard the rush of wings, and when he looked up at the sky, he saw bats rising into the air above him. Eru sighed with relief. He had found the cave.
&nb
sp; Mara awoke in the semidarkness, surrounded by a sharp scent. She had difficulty orienting herself; her entire body hurt, especially her head. She vaguely remembered Te Ori hitting her. And then it came back: the terrifying trip on the raft, Carol being washed away by the current, Te Ori stopping her from jumping in after her sister.
Now she must be in a new prison . . . but no, Mara was lying in a small cave. Now the source of the smell revealed itself. The ground and walls were covered with bat guano.
Mara attempted to sit up and immediately saw Te Ori. The warrior sat at the entrance of the cave, watching her. Guarding her was no longer necessary; Mara was still tied up. He had only taken the gag out of her mouth, probably so she could breathe better.
“You aren’t dead,” he observed with satisfaction. “I was afraid I’d hit you too hard and your spirit had departed, even though your heart was still beating.”
Mara wanted to hurl insults at him, but she couldn’t speak. Her mouth was dry, and her throat felt as though it were clamped shut. She focused on the water flask on Te Ori’s belt. The warrior understood and stood up to give it to her.
At the same moment, Mara noticed a figure at the cave’s entrance. She didn’t know if it was reality or an illusion. All she could see in the dim twilight was a shadow. Te Ori turned around. He must have sensed something. Or hadn’t the person moved as silently as it had seemed to Mara? Te Ori tugged a weapon out of his belt, and the shadow fell on him. A second later, both men were on the ground, skirmishing wildly. In Mara’s confused state of mind, they were like one monster with two heads. Four hands held war clubs, an ax, and a knife. The warriors beat and stabbed at each other, shouting furiously.
“Traitor!”
“Rapist!”
“She is my slave!”
“She is my wife, she was always mine!”
It was Eru’s voice. The monster spoke with Eru’s voice. Mara screamed.
The man who’d stolen Eru’s voice and his body looked up in shock—and Te Ori immediately took advantage. He knocked the knife out of the man’s hand, and it clattered to the ground. Then he pushed him down and put a knee over him. With a powerful sweeping motion, he raised the toki poutangata, the war ax, aiming at the man’s neck. The pinned man defended himself desperately, striking Te Ori’s lower arm with force. The ax flew from Te Ori’s grip, and the man with Eru’s voice kicked it in Mara’s direction. The men were now grappling without weapons, but a knife still flashed in Te Ori’s belt. He felt for it as he crushed his opponent against the ground with the full weight of his body.
“Mara!”
Mara trembled. So often in dreams she’d heard that voice call her name, but then it had been gentle, kind, and searching. Now Eru’s voice broke with terror.
“Mara, do something!”
Mara’s eyes focused on the ax, and suddenly the pain, exhaustion, and paralyzing grief for Carol fell away like a cloak. She reached for the weapon with her bound hands, fought her way to her feet, and plunged the toki poutangata into Te Ori’s back. Blood sprayed, awakening all the fantasies that had helped Mara survive the countless nights of abuse. Before he could turn over, she ripped the weapon from the wound and struck him again. This time she hit bone, and the ax bounced off.
Te Ori let his opponent go and spun around with a shout, reaching for Mara’s legs. She stumbled and raised her arms again to strike. With all her strength, she slung the ax into Te Ori’s face, splitting the forehead with its detested moko. Te Ori stiffened immediately, and his mouth opened in a silent cry. At the same moment, Mara saw a gaping wound open in his neck. The man with Eru’s voice had grabbed Te Ori’s own knife and stabbed his adversary. Te Ori collapsed gurgling on the ground, his dying eyes seeking Mara.
“Aren’t you dead yet?”
Eru was stunned by the hatred in her voice.
“Then take this! And this! And this!”
Mara struck the dying man with the ax, and continued to do so long after he had stopped moving. She drove the blade of the toki poutangata into Te Ori’s body again and again, until only a bloodied piece of meat lay at her feet.
“Mara,” Eru cried. “Mara, you can stop now, he’s dead! Mara, it’s over!”
Mara seemed not to hear. It was pure exhaustion that finally made her stop, panting, trembling, soaked in blood, her hands still tied.
Eru kept his voice low. “Mara, it’s over. He can’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let anyone hurt you again. Come here, let me cut the rope off your hands. Then we can light a fire. You must be freezing.”
Eru approached slowly, gazing into the blazing eyes behind the raised ax. He placed Te Ori’s knife on the ground by Mara’s feet.
“Don’t touch me!” Mara hissed.
“But it’s me, Eru . . .”
Mara shook her head. “Go!” she cried. “Get away from me or—or I’ll kill you too!”
Part 8
FORGIVENESS
RUSSELL AND AUCKLAND, NEW ZEALAND (THE NORTH ISLAND)
1866
Chapter 74
“I hardly know what to do anymore,” Ida said. “Mara is here, but she’s not here. Sometimes she seems as helpless as a child, weeps and crawls into Carol’s bed at night, and then she looks at you with ice-cold eyes and reaches for that horrible man’s knife. She won’t go anywhere without it. Before, she always had her flute; now she carries the knife. It’s eerie, Cat. And that poor boy.”
“I wouldn’t worry so much about him,” Cat replied curtly.
The women were sitting in front of Ida’s pretty cottage on the outskirts of Russell, enjoying the spring sunshine. From one side of the porch, there was a view of the sea, and the other bordered a beautiful green pasture where ten well-fed sheep grazed peacefully.
“Perhaps it would help to send him away for a while,” Cat continued. “Mara doesn’t want to see him, but his father does. Te Haitara is so glad that Eru’s alive—”
Ida shook her head. “Send him away? After everything he’s been through? Even before he got her out of that cave! Mara was still tied up, but Eru couldn’t convince her to leave with him. She just stayed in there with the blood and the corpse. So, he made a fire in front of the cave, sat next to it, and talked to her all night. He told her about Carol’s rescue, about Linda, about you and Chris . . . By the time morning came, she had managed to cut the ties on her hands with the knife herself. Carol said later that she looked like a ghost. And she only saw her after she’d crossed the river and washed off most of the blood.”
“The river crossing must have been a nightmare for her, after what happened to Carol.”
Cat shuddered at the thought of it. She had set off for the North Island as soon as she’d heard about Carol and Mara’s rescue. Chris had had to stay at Rata Station, trying to put things in order. He’d fired all of the men who’d worked for Jane, and fortunately, most of the Maori shepherds had happily returned to their jobs. Te Haitara had formally taken over the leadership of Maori Station, but separating the sheep herds again proved to be a Sisyphean task.
Ida stared sadly at the sea as she recounted the story. “Eru says that once it was light, Mara told him to lead her to her sister, but she kept the knife pointed at him the entire way and only followed at a distance. Then, on the raft, she clung to the edge, as far away from him as possible. He was terrified she’d fall in the water. Fortunately, the rain had passed, so river wasn’t as wild as the day before.”
“What happened after that?” Cat asked, taking a sip of her tea. She preferred coffee, but her pregnancy was quite advanced now, and she was having trouble with heartburn.
“When Mara saw Carol again, she couldn’t stop weeping,” Ida said. “Finally, Eru and the other Maori man went back to the pa and told McDonnell what had happened. The major sent out half a unit to secure the area around the cave in case there were other warriors nearby. The soldiers also brought tents and provisions for Bill and the girls—and a doctor, but Mara refused to let him touch her. They camped there for three days
until the girls were able to travel. Bill brought them to Auckland, and we came to pick them up.”
“What about Eru?” Cat asked.
“He follows Mara around like a dog,” Ida said with a sigh. “Thank you, by the way, for bringing Fancy back to Carol. It’s done her good; she’d been afraid Fancy was dead. We keep talking about Mara, but Carol was abused too. She doesn’t say much about it, but . . . Bill will have to be very patient. Good thing he’s madly in love with her.”
Bill had traveled to Russell with the Jensches and their daughters, had taken a room in a guesthouse, and was helping Karl and Ida on their little farm. Not that they needed it. With their few milk sheep, the two of them managed easily on their own, and Bill didn’t know anything about making cheese. Still, he found ways to make himself useful. He weeded the garden, painted the barn, and made small repairs. Mostly, he wanted to be near Carol, and her trust in him seemed to be growing every day. At some point, he would repeat his proposal of marriage, and perhaps the two of them could return to Rata Station.
It had become clear that Linda would not be taking over the farm. Cat had visited her on her way to Russell and found her extremely happy. She was determined to stay with Franz and run the orphanage with him. She preferred working with children to raising sheep. Of course, Amy was underemployed, but Linda and Franz were considering buying a few sheep to get the children used to working with them. Everyone hoped that the terrible war with the Maori would soon come to an end, and the orphanage could become more peaceful. They were still receiving war orphans.
“As for Eru, he somehow made it here on his own,” Ida said. “We would have taken him with us, but Mara still gets hysterical when she sees his face. At least we finally convinced her that it’s really him. He says that, on the way down from the cave, she thought an evil spirit had stolen his voice. The poor boy must have been through hell; he’s still there, actually. He walked all the way here, and now he’s camping out in the woods.” She pointed toward Russell. “The land belongs to us, so there won’t be any problems. They didn’t want him at the guesthouse where Bill’s staying. The people are afraid of him. It’s slowly becoming clear to him that it’s not going to change.”