Fires of Change (The Fire Blossom Saga)

by Sarah Lark

  “Does he regret what he did?”

  “Yes, and not just the tattoos. It’s clear that he’s haunted by his experience with the Hauhau. Who knows what else happened? In any case, he’s totally devoted to Mara. She can’t bear the sight of him, so he comes after dark. He stands beneath her window and talks. He tells her endless stories, probably about when they were children. Recently, he brought her a koauau. He got one for himself as well, and plays it every night—badly, I might add. But he hasn’t made a bit of progress with her over the last weeks. He’s just going to have to wait until she’s gotten over what Te Ori did to her—if she ever does. Of course, her pregnancy isn’t helping matters. She’s four months along now.”

  Cat sighed. “It’s a terrible pity that she didn’t lose the child.”

  Ida glared at her. “Cat, that’s a sin!”

  Cat rolled her eyes. “Ida, forget religion! Mara’s child will look like its father. Do you really believe it will be good for her recovery if every time she looks at her child, she sees her tormentor’s face?”

  Cat felt a breeze and paused. The front door of the house had opened, and Mara was standing in the doorway. Neither of them had heard her coming.

  “I never saw Te Ori’s face,” she said coldly.

  The sight of the young woman almost broke Cat’s heart. Mara was pale and still far too thin. Her hair had lost its shine, and her once glowing skin was covered with little scars from countless blows. She was still beautiful in spite of it all. She was no longer the radiant, invulnerable beauty from before, but instead fragile, like a woodland fairy.

  “I only saw what the moko master made out of him. If I see the child, I will think of Eru, the way he used to be. When I look at Eru now, I see Te Ori.”

  In the evening, after Mara had retired, Cat shared stories from her time on Rose Island. Ida, Karl, and Carol listened, entranced.

  “Of course it was hard, but somehow also beautiful. We felt like we’d fallen through time, as though we were in another world. It was harder on the others—they missed civilization. But after Chris and I had set up our house, it wasn’t that difficult. We had each other and a simple life. It reminded me a little of when I was young and lived with the Maori. There were no matches or cooking pots. Every little thing we had to do in daily life was complicated and took longer, but then it also somehow became more valuable.”

  Cat paused for a moment when she heard a shrill sound from outside, followed by a crooked melody being played on a koauau. Ida closed the window.

  “Is that Eru?” Cat asked.

  Carol nodded. “He always starts with the flute. They used to call each other that way. Jane thought the koauau was birdsong.”

  “Well, this bird must have a cold,” Karl said.

  Amy seemed to be just as perturbed. She howled.

  “The flute will stop soon,” Ida said comfortingly. “He tells her stories.”

  Cat put her face to the window. “Where is he sitting? I can’t see him.”

  “On the lower branches of one of the trees,” Karl said. “He could climb even closer to her window, but he’s afraid of scaring her.”

  “Does she react at all?” Cat asked.

  “Not as far as we can tell,” Ida said. “She doesn’t answer or tell him to go away.”

  “Hasn’t anyone looked in her room? Is she sitting in the corner holding her ears? Does she pull the blankets up over her head?” Cat peered into the darkness. There was no light coming from Mara’s window.

  “We can’t just walk in,” Ida said. “Of course we’ve knocked. She opened the door and said everything was fine.”

  “I think she was crying last night,” Carol added. “But I’m not sure.”

  “Well, I’m going to look now.” Cat went determinedly to the door. “If she’s cowering in the dark, crying, then we’ll have to send the young man away, with all due respect for his situation. Of course, it would be tragic, but subjecting her to more pain is wrong.”

  Karl remained seated, and Ida and Carol reluctantly followed Cat. Ida lit a lantern to show the women the way up the stairs and down the hall.

  Cat quietly opened the door to Mara’s room and blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the dark. Mara was crouching right by the window, below its frame so she wouldn’t be seen. Her narrow body was wrapped in a blanket against the chill of the night. In her hand, she held the flute that Eru had given her, and had one ear pressed against the wall so she wouldn’t miss a single one of the words that he sent so desperately into the night.

  “Mara, Mara Marama, you know me. You know who I am, no matter what I look like. Mara, you have to see me with your heart. I haven’t changed, Mara. I’m still myself.”

  Mara pressed the koauau against her cheek. Cat decided to silently retreat before Mara noticed her.

  But the girl turned around as Cat was closing the door.

  “I wish I were blind,” she said softly.

  “We have to talk to Eru,” Cat said. The three women had returned to Ida’s cozy parlor, and Ida had opened another bottle of wine. “She loves him, and she’s suffering just as much as he is. But they can’t go on like this. The girl might try to harm herself. If you have acid or something in the house, Ida, then hide it—”

  “Do you think she’d try to blind herself?” Karl asked. “Then we’ll have to hide every knife too.”

  “She always carries a knife with her,” Ida said tiredly. “You’re right, Cat. Eru has to stop, at least for the time being. We can’t take the risk of Mara hurting herself.”

  The next day, Cat set out to visit Eru in his camp. She waited until late morning. After all, the young man had to sleep at some point. He’d been sitting in the tree talking until three. Finally, she gave up and returned to the house.

  “I couldn’t find him.”

  Ida, who’d been cutting up sweet potatoes for a casserole, looked up in surprise. “You couldn’t? Then you’re losing your touch as a tracker. The forest isn’t that big, and you can’t miss the tent.”

  Cat rolled her eyes. “Of course I found the camp. But Eru wasn’t there. It looked as though he’d left in a hurry. The fire had been stamped out, but all his things were still lying around. Mostly writing materials and drafts of letters. They all began My dearest Mara . . .”

  “Did you snoop?” Ida said scoldingly.

  Cat shook her head. “No, I didn’t have to. As I said, it was all lying around in the open. Where could he have gone, Ida?”

  “I have no idea.” Ida passed her friend a cutting board and some vegetables. “Here, help me. Afterward, we can both go look again and bring him some of the casserole. He’s always happy when I cook for him. He lives off a little grain, catches fish, sets traps.”

  “Maybe something just swam into his net,” Cat guessed. “You’re right, we’ll go back later.”

  But Cat and Ida didn’t find Eru in the afternoon either—and even more alarmingly, he didn’t come that night to talk to Mara.

  “Maybe he decided it wasn’t working,” Ida said. “Although yesterday he seemed so convinced.”

  “Maybe she spoke to him,” Carol suggested.

  “Either that or he decided to write her letters instead,” Cat added. “Still, it’s strange. I have a bad feeling.”

  “His camp is still the way you found it.” It was about eight o’clock the next morning, and Karl had returned from feeding the animals and checking in the woods. “The food you left yesterday hasn’t been touched either.”

  Karl set down the basket Ida had left in Eru’s tent, as well as a pitcher of fresh milk, six eggs, and the newspaper. It was one of the conveniences of their new life in Russell that the paper boy came by every morning. The Jensches had never lived so close to a town before.

  Ida, Cat, and Carol were already sitting at the breakfast table. Mara hadn’t come down yet. While Ida poured coffee for Karl, Cat reached for the paper. As soon as she saw the headlines, her face filled with horror.

  “Oh no!” she cri
ed. “This can’t be true. Eru . . .”

  “I told you, I never want to see you here again! Why is that so hard for you to understand?”

  Chris Fenroy confronted his wife, from whom he was still not officially divorced, with fury. Georgie, who’d just helped Jane onto the pier at Rata Station, ducked in shock. He’d always thought Chris was a very easygoing person.

  Undeterred, Jane marched up the pier. “I have to speak to Te Haitara.”

  She wore an elegant, rust-colored travel outfit, with a dark blue blouse under the jacket and a matching hat. The ensemble made her look stern and distinguished. She tried to appear self-assured, but didn’t manage it. Chris thought she seemed upset, almost scared. Neither emotion seemed to fit Jane.

  “Te Haitara knows where you are,” he answered harshly. “If he wants to speak to you, he can come find you at any time.”

  Since Jane had left Rata Station, she had been staying in a suite at the White Hart Hotel. It was very luxurious, and Te Haitara had paid for it willingly. Everyone in his tribe had always gotten what they wanted, and apparently he still saw Jane as part of his tribe.

  “But now I have to speak to him,” Jane said. “He’s my husband!”

  “Oh, now he’s your husband?” Chris said with a snarl.

  Jane glared at him. She seemed to be about to give a snappy answer, but then suddenly looked tired.

  “Oh, Chris, let’s just stop it,” she said. “Te Haitara needs to know what I have to tell him. He won’t find out any other way; he doesn’t read the newspaper. And it might already be too late. Chris, Eru was arrested on the North Island. He was accused of taking part in Reverend Voelkner’s murder. It’s very serious, and many people have testified against him.”

  “What?” Chris immediately forgot his annoyance. He had always liked Eru. “That can’t be true, Jane! The boy might have gotten a little overexcited about the Hauhau, but he’s no murderer!”

  Jane shrugged. She looked like she’d aged years since the last time he’d seen her. “I don’t know, Chris. I can’t believe it either. Eru also denies it. But I don’t know much else. I was contacted by a lawyer in Auckland, who was engaged by Karl Jensch. He’s a very important defense attorney. It was very kind of Karl to find him for us. But he has to be paid, and I need money. Also for the trip, as I’m going there as soon as possible. And if—if Te Haitara can stand being near me, then . . .” She lowered her eyes.

  “Of course he’ll go with you,” Chris said, and paused to think a moment. “I’ll come with you too. Maori chieftains aren’t terribly welcome on the North Island right now. But Karl and I have connections to the governor.”

  Jane stared at him. “You would do that?”

  Chris nodded. “Of course. Te Haitara is my friend, and Eru grew up on my farm. Even when he was a child, he was constantly with Mara. Now he even saved her life, and Carol’s. Karl and I will gladly try to help.”

  Jane bit her lip. “After everything I did . . .”

  Chris looked at her sharply. “That almost sounds like an apology. I hardly recognize you anymore, Jane. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather wave a birth certificate under my nose and remind me of my responsibilities to ‘my son’?”

  Jane blushed. “I’m sorry,” she said. It had truly been a long time since she’d said those words. To be honest, she couldn’t remember having ever said them before. “I’m really very sorry.”

  Sir Richard Brady received Jane, Chris, and Te Haitara in a fancy chancellery in the best part of Auckland. Jane had gone to the county jail first, but she hadn’t been permitted to visit Eru.

  Sir Richard was a tall, stately man with thinning snow-white hair; an angular, furrowed face; and a hooked nose. At first glance he seemed very stern, but he doubtless made a dignified impression at court. After introducing himself, he turned to Chris, whom he knew from the days when Chris and Karl had worked for the government.

  “Just to make things clear, Te Eriatara, also known as Eric Fenroy, is the son of your wife and—what was your name, sir?” He reached for a quill to make a note.

  “Ariki Te Haitara,” the chieftain replied with dignity. “And Jane Te Rohi to te Ingarihi is my wife. By the laws of my people, she was divorced from Mr. Fenroy twenty years ago. Te Eriatara is my legitimate son.”

  “Even though there is a somewhat unfortunate birth certificate that—” Chris began to explain, but Sir Richard silenced him with a wave of his hand.

  “It doesn’t matter; your family is fortunately not on trial. I just wanted to be sure I understood. Ariki and Mrs., um, Haitara, there are serious charges against your son. Several of the Hauhau warriors who were taken prisoner at the Pokokaikai pa have accused him of taking part in Carl Voelkner’s murder in March of 1865.”

  “And the courts just take their word for it?” Jane asked.

  Te Haitara shot her an angry look. “If the word of a warrior didn’t count anymore—”

  “Then your son would be much better off,” the lawyer said, interrupting him. “You have to see it from a practical point of view. It’s not about pride or honor, only about saving your son from the gallows.”

  “The gallows?” Chris cried.

  Sir Richard rubbed his temples. “Listen, the murder of that German missionary caused a great stir. The governor wants a full reckoning, as do the people—not to mention the church. There have already been a number of arrests made. Unfortunately, the man principally responsible, one Kereopa Te Rau, got away, as did his assistant, Patara Raukatauri. And according to the testimony of the arrested warriors, your son took part in the murder. He doesn’t deny it completely either.”

  “He doesn’t?” Jane echoed in shock.

  “He admitted to me that he was traveling with the two men as a missionary, or rather a recruiter, for Te Ua Haumene. I advised him not to tell the officials about it. He says he preached to the Te Whakatohea tribe, which means he contributed to turning them against the pakeha in general and Reverend Voelkner in particular. But he says he did not take part in the riots on the following day. He says he was shocked and disgusted, and even helped the two other missionaries get away. I’ve already located one of them: a Reverend Franz Lange. He now runs an orphanage in Otaki. By strange coincidence, Mr. Fenroy, he is the brother-in-law of your friend Karl Jensch. Reverend Lange is on his way here now. The way it looks, he is prepared to testify in favor of your son. If Carol Brandmann and Mara Jensch speak for him as well, then I hope we can at least spare him from the gallows.”

  Te Haitara said something in Maori. His English wasn’t bad, but this conversation was difficult for him.

  Chris translated. “He says that, from the point of view of Maori warriors, the behavior of Kereopa wasn’t condemnable. It falls under the law of utu, of retribution. The Te Whakatohea tried Voelkner and found him guilty of the betrayal of their people, and then punished him. Te Haitara concedes that there may have been a miscarriage of justice. But cutting off the heads of dead enemies and eating them to absorb their mana is traditional, especially on the North Island.”

  Sir Richard rolled his eyes. “During the trial, ariki, please keep that point of view to yourself. Besides, in the Treaty of Waitangi, the Maori agreed to accept the British legal system.”

  “Which means they aren’t allowed to eat missionaries,” Jane said to him sharply. “Now stop with your nonsense, and let the man tell us what to do. Sir Richard, what can we do for our son?”

  The lawyer toyed with his quill. “Little,” he said. “Of course we will try to play down Te Eriatara’s role in the events as much as possible. If we’re very lucky, the charges may be reduced from accessory to murder to incitement and sedition. That won’t save him from prison, but his sentence will be shorter.”

  “How short?” Chris asked.

  The lawyer sighed. “In light of the seriousness of the crimes and the level of public interest, at least several years. I’m sorry not to be able to give you a better prognosis. Of course I will do whatever I can.”

>   If the occasion hadn’t been so sad, it would have been a remarkable reunion there in Auckland. In the lobby of the Commercial Hotel, Carol and Ida embraced Linda and Franz, and Bill Paxton shook everyone’s hand. Karl clapped Chris on the shoulder and acted as though there were nothing more natural than reuniting with a friend who had been declared dead. Jane and Te Haitara kept a little more to themselves, as did Mara. When Te Haitara tried to greet her warmly, she flinched.

  “I’m not so sure it was a good idea to bring her,” Chris said.

  He was seeing the girl for the first time again now, and was shocked by the changes in her. The families had gotten together for a meal, and Mara withdrew to the farthest corner of the table, between Carol and Ida.

  Cat shrugged. “We could hardly leave her all alone in Russell. Besides, she’s the most important person here. She’ll have to testify on Eru’s behalf.”

  “Will she be able to do that?” Chris eyed the fragile creature listlessly pushing food around on her plate. The meal was delicious, and Mara didn’t even have to deal with looks from strangers. Karl had booked a small, private dining room.

  “She may not be able to stand the sight of him, but she doesn’t want him to hang either,” Cat replied quietly. “So, she will testify, though it certainly won’t be easy for her.”

  “I can take some of the pressure off the young man, in any case,” Franz told the group. “He wasn’t there when they hanged Voelkner, and he helped Gallant and me escape.”