Allan and the Ice Gods (12 page)

grievances, not strictly connected with Wi; whereon Henga, able to

bear no more, rushed at Urk and sent his frail old body flying with a

kick of his huge foot.

As Urk picked himself up and hobbled off, calling down on Henga’s head

his widest if somewhat confused wizard’s curse, Henga threw off his

tigerskin cloak which a slave removed. As Wi did likewise, Pag, who

took the garment, whispered to him:

“Beware! He has something hidden in his right hand. He plays a trick.”

Then he hobbled off with the cloak, leaving the giant and the hunter

facing each other at a distance of five paces.

Even as Pag went, Henga lifted his arm and with fearful force hurled

at Wi a flint knife set in a whale’s tooth for handle, which he had

hidden in his great paw. But Wi, being warned, was watching, and as a

shout of “Ill done!” went up from the crowd, dropped to the ground so

that the knife whizzed over him. Next instant, he was up again,

charging at Henga, who now grasped the club with both hands and swung

it aloft to crush him.

Before it could fall, Wi, remembering Pag’s counsel, smote with all

his strength. Henga sloped the club sideways to protect his head. Wi’s

ax fell on it halfway up the handle, and the sharp steel, forged in

heaven’s furnace, shore through the tough wood, so that the thick part

of the club fell to the ground, a sight that caused the people to

shout with wonder.

Henga threw the handle at Wi, striking him on the head and, as he

staggered back, picked up the thick end of the club. Wi paused to wipe

the blood out of his eyes, for the broken stick had grazed his skin.

Then again he charged at Henga, and keeping out of reach of the

shortened club, strove to smite him on the knee, once more following

the counsel of Pag. But the giant’s arms were very long and the handle

of Wi’s ax was short, so that the task was difficult. At length,

however, a blow went home and although no sinew was severed, cut into

Henga’s flesh above the knee so deeply that he roared aloud.

Maddened with rage and pain, the giant changed his plan. Dropping the

club, as Wi straightened himself after the blow, he leapt at him and

gripped him in his huge arms, purposing to break his bones or hug him

to death as a bear does. They struggled together.

“All is over,” said Whaka. “That man whom Henga embraces is dead.”

Pag, who was standing beside him, smote him on the mouth, saying:

“Is it so? Look, raven, look!”

As he spoke, Wi slipped from the grasp of Henga as an eel slips from a

child’s hand. Again Henga caught him by the head, but Wi’s hair having

been cut and his scalp greased, he could not hold him. Then the giant

smote at him with his great fist, a mighty blow that caught Wi upon

the forehead and felled him to the ground. Before he could rise, Henga

hurled himself onto him and the two struggled there upon the sand.

Never before had the tribe seen a fight like this, nor did tradition

tell of such a one. They writhed, they twisted, they rolled over, now

this one uppermost, and now that one. Henga tried to get Wi by the

throat, but his hands would not hold on the oiled skin, and always the

hunter escaped from that deadly grasp, and twice or thrice found

opportunity to pound Henga’s face with his fist.

Presently they were seen to rise together, the giant’s arms still

about Wi, whom he dared not loose because he was weaponless, while the

ax still hung to the hunter’s wrist. They wrestled, staggering to and

fro, covered with blood and sand and sweat. The watchers shook their

heads, for how, thought they, could any man stand against the weight

and strength of Henga? But Pag, noting everything with his quick eye,

whispered to Aaka, who forgetting her hate in her trouble and fear,

had drawn near to him:

“Keep courage, woman. The salmon does its work. Henga tires.”

It was true. The grip of the giant loosened, his breath came in short

gasps, moreover, that leg into which the ax of Wi had cut began to

fail and he dared not put all his weight upon it. Still, gathering up

his strength, with a mighty effort he cast Wi from him with such force

that the hunter fell to the ground and lay there a moment, as though

he were stunned or the breath had been shaken out of him.

Now Moananga groaned aloud, waiting to see Henga spring upon his foe’s

prostrate form and stamp him to death. But some change came over the

man. It was as though a sudden terror had taken him. Or perhaps he

thought that Wi was dead. If so he did not wait to look, but turning,

ran toward the cave. Wi, recovering his wits or his breath, or both,

sat up and saw. Then, with a shout, he leapt to his feet and sped

after Henga, followed by all the people; yes, even by Urk the Aged,

who hobbled along leaning on his wand of office.

Henga had a long start, but at every step his hurt leg grew weaker,

and Wi sped after him like a deer. At the very mouth of the cave, he

overtook him, and those who followed saw the flash of a falling ax and

heard the thud of its blow upon the back of Henga, who staggered

forward. Then the pair of them vanished into the shadow of the cave,

while the people halted without awaiting the issue, whatever it might

be.

A little while later, there was a stir in the shadows; out of them a

man appeared. It was Wi, who bore something in his hands, Wi with the

red ax still hanging from his right arm. He staggered forward; a ray

from the setting sun pierced the mists and struck full upon him and

that which he carried. Lo! it was the huge head of Henga.

For a moment Wi stood still like one bemused, while the tribe shouted

their welcome to him as chief by right of conquest. Then he swooned

and fell forward into the arms of Pag who, seeing that he was about to

fall, thrust himself past Aaka and caught him.

Because it was nigh at hand, Wi was carried into the cave, whence, now

that he was fallen the body of the giant Henga was dragged as though

it had been that of a dog and afterward, by the command of Wi, borne

to the foot of the glacier and as he had vowed, laid there as an

offering to the Ice-gods. Only some of those whom he had wronged and

who hated him took his head and, climbing a dead pine that stood near

by of which the top had been twisted out by the wind, stuck it upon

the jagged point of the broken tree, where it remained, its long locks

floating on the wind, grinning with empty eyes at the huts below.

When they entered it, this cave, which was very great, was found to be

full of women who, although he was still senseless, hastened to do

reverence to Wi as their future lord, and hung about him till, with

the help of Moananga and others, Pag drove them all out, saying that

if the chief Wi wanted any of them back again, he could send for them.

He added that he did not think this probable because they were all so

ugly, which was not true. So they went away, seeking shelter where

they could, and were very angry with Pag, more because he had said

that they were ugly than because he had driven them out, which they

guessed he had done because he did not trust them and feared lest

they, Henga’s wives, should do Wi a mischief by poison or otherwise.

Wi, being laid upon Henga’s bed in a side cave near to a brightly

burning fire, soon recovered from his swoon and, having drunk some

water that one of the slaves of the place gave to him, for these were

not driven out with the women, asked first for Foh, whom he embraced,

and next for Pag, whom he bade to find Aaka. But Aaka, learning that

he was recovered and little hurt, had gone, saying that she must

attend to the fire in her hut, lest it should go out, but would return

in the morning.

So Pag and Moananga fed Wi with food they found in the place, among it

a piece of that salmon which Henga had left to eat after the fight.

Having swallowed this, Wi turned over and went to sleep, being utterly

outworn, so that he could not even speak. Foh crept onto the bed by

his side, for he would not leave his father, and did likewise.

Wi slept all night and woke in the morning to find himself alone, for

Foh had gone. He was very stiff and bruised, with a lump on the back

of his head where he had fallen when Henga threw him to the ground.

Also, he was sore all over from the grip of the giant’s hands, and

there was a deep cut on his forehead where the handle of the club had

struck him, and his skin was scratched by Henga’s claw-like nails.

Still, he felt within himself that no bone was broken and that his

body was sound and whole. Thankfulness filled his heart that this

should be so, when he might well have been as Henga was to-day.

To whom did he owe this safety—the Ice-gods? Perhaps, and if so, he

thanked them, he who did not desire to die and felt that he had work

to do for the people. Yet the Ice-gods seemed very cold and far away,

and although the stone had fallen, it might have been by chance, so

that he wondered whether they troubled themselves about him and his

fate. Pag thought that there were no gods, and perhaps he was right.

At least this was clear, that, if it had not been for Pag, the gods

would not have saved him yesterday from Henga the giant, the mightiest

man that was told of in the tale of the tribe even by Urk and others,

who made up stories and sang them by the fire on winter nights, Henga

who once had caught a wild bull by the horns and twisted its neck with

his hands.

Pag it was who had oiled him all over and cut off his hair so that

Henga could not hold him. Pag it was who had made and given to him the

wonderful ax that lay on the bed beside him, its thong still about his

wrist, without which he never could have smitten Henga down as he

gained the safety of his cave, or dealt him that deep cut upon the leg

which caused him to give up the fight and run even when he, Wi, lay

prostrate on the ground; caused him, too, to limp and stumble in his

flight so that he could be overtaken. Pag it was, too, who had put a

great heart into him, telling him not to be afraid for he would

conquer on that day, words which he remembered even when all seemed

finished. And now Henga was dead, for after he fell, smitten on the

back, two blows of the wonderful ax had hewed right through his thick

neck as no other weapon could have done, Fo-a was avenged, Foh and

Aaka were saved, and he, Wi, was lord of the cave and chief of the

people. Therefore he, Wi, swore this, that Pag, though a dwarf

deformed, whom all hated and named wolf-man, should be next to him

among them and his counsellor. Yes, he swore it, although he knew that

it would please Aaka little because of her jealous heart.

Whilst he lay and thought thus, by the light that crept into the cave

Wi noticed that three of the women, the youngest and fairest among

them, had returned to the place and were standing together at a

distance, talking and looking toward him. Presently they came to a

decision, for they advanced very quietly, which caused Wi to grip his

ax. Seeing that his eyes were open, they knelt down and touched the

ground with their foreheads, calling him lord and master, saying that

they wished to stay with him who was so great and strong that he had

killed Henga, and swearing to be faithful to him.

Wi listened astonished, not knowing what to answer. Least of all did

he wish to take these women into his household, if for no other reason

because anyone whom Henga had touched was hateful to him, yet, being

kind-hearted, he did not desire to tell them this roughly. While he

was seeking for soft words, one of the women crept forward, still upon

her knees, and seizing his hand, pressed it against her forehead and

kissed it. It was at this moment that Aaka appeared and followed by

Pag. The women sprang up and, running a few paces, huddled themselves

together, while Pag laughed hoarsely, and Aaka, drawing herself to her

full height, said:

“It seems that you soon make yourself at home in your new house,

Husband, since already I find Henga’s cast-offs kissing you in love.”

“Love!” answered Wi. “Am I in a state for love? The women came—I did

not seek them.”

“Oh! yes, without doubt they came, knowing where they would be

welcome, Husband; indeed, perhaps, they never went away. Of a truth, I

perceive that there will be no room for me in this chief’s cave. Well,

I am glad of it, who love my own hut better than such a darksome

hole.”

“Yet often, Wife, I have heard you say when the wind whistled through

the hut in winter, that you wished you lay safe and warm in this

cave.”

“Did I? Well, I have changed my mind, who had never seen the place,

not having been one of Henga’s family.”

“Peace, Woman,” said Pag, “and let us see how the chief Wi fares. As

for those slaves, I have hunted them out once and presently will do so

again. Chief, we bring you food. Can you eat?”

“I think so,” answered Wi, “if Aaka will hold me up.”

Aaka looked wrathfully at the women and still more wrathfully at Pag,