Child of the Dawn (37 page)

Tepua paused to wait for her cousin to catch up. "Did you see those women? The dry season must have been harsh. But soon—" Tepua swept her hand toward high branches where the yellow-green globes of breadfruit hung. The time for first harvest was fast approaching.
 

Maukiri licked her lips at the mention of food. She, too, looked thin. Months had passed since either woman had tasted breadfruit, coconuts, or reef fish. "For your sake, I missed one great festival," said Tepua's cousin. "I do not want to miss another."
 

Yet Tepua knew that she would not enjoy herself in the coming season. She would have to face her old Arioi companions and act as though she deserved to be among them. She would have to perform in front of Land-crab and treat him with respect he did not merit. Perhaps, worst of all, she would have to deal with Pehu-pehu.
 

Tepua was willing to endure all this for Ruro's sake. To protect her son, she would pretend that he had never drawn a breath. Everyone must see her dancing again, an active member of the Arioi troupe. And perhaps she could do more than just dance—she could work to bring the usurper down.
 

"I smell the sea air!" Maukiri proclaimed, suddenly sprinting ahead of her cousin. Indeed, Tepua was now catching glimpses of the lagoon through the trees. After so many moons! She forgot her gloomy thoughts and hurried after Maukiri. Ahead, beside the river's mouth, lay a gravel beach where waves rolled to shore through a break in the reef.
 

Maukiri flung her wrap aside and plunged in, with Tepua at her heels. How wonderful to taste salt again! And to hear the roar of distant breakers! As Tepua frolicked in the surf, she remembered the last time she had played in the sea—and felt a twinge of pain at the memory. How excited and foolish she had been then. How much she had endured since that time to keep her child.
 

At last the two women came out and stood, still dripping, on the shore. The sun was setting, and the sea breeze had started to come in. "We could spend the night right here," Tepua suggested. She did not want to face the Arioi until morning.
 

She turned her head at the sound of familiar voices, and realized that she no longer had a choice. Led by Curling-leaf, a small crowd of Arioi women was converging on the beach. Tepua's special friend broke from the rest, ran up, and embraced her while the others looked on with curiosity. "I was afraid for you," Curling-leaf said, hugging Tepua tightly. "But you look well."
 

Tepua was glad that her friend asked no further questions. She was unwilling now to tell anyone here, no matter how trustworthy, about Ruro. "Yes, I am well. But I have heard only rumors about our lodge—"
 

"You must be careful," answered Curling-leaf, lowering her voice. "Everything has changed. We are back home, but we are not the same troupe that left. No one dares speak against Land-crab."
 

Tepua stiffened. "That is what I expected. Tell me about Aitofa."

Curling-leaf spoke in a whisper. "She tried to stop it. Now "she can only whisper of rebellion."

"Against—"

"No more now," Curling-leaf cautioned.

Tepua stamped her foot in frustration.
What news of Matopahu
? If only she could ask. "We will talk later," Tepua said, and straightened up, remembering the impression she must make on the others. Her hopes depended on bringing off this deception. Everyone must think that she had carried out her duty and was now returning to her proper place.
 

"So you are back," came the booming voice of Pehu-pehu as Tepua approached the first cluster of thatched huts near the beach.

She turned to face the Blackleg, but stood her ground. Tepua remembered how this woman had writhed in agony and begged for relief from Stay-long's friends. Perhaps the experience had made her just a bit more humble.
 

"You have been gone a long while," said Pehu-pehu. "I trust you have not forgotten your recitations and your dance movements."

"I have not," she answered staunchly.

"Good. I will watch you carefully to make certain."

And I will watch you also, you treacherous eel.
Tepua knew that she was playing a difficult part now. She and Pehu-pehu were both part of a performance that neither wanted. They must go on as they had before—the demanding Blackleg and the troublesome young dancer. She wondered how long they could keep up the pretense.
 

 

Early the next morning, a party of women went to gather fronds for plaiting mats. Tepua had already seen that a new performance house stood almost ready on a fresh site near the shore. Polished timbers made from entire palm trees supported the high, thatched roof. A viewing platform, of planks lashed together, was nearing completion by a large gang of men. Floor mats remained in short supply, so she joined the women assigned to make them.
 

Tepua went with her companions to gather coconut fronds that had been spread to dry in the sun. Far better work could be done with the scarcer and tougher leaves of pandanus, but time was running short. Soon the performance house must be ready for the opening events of the season.
 

On her third collecting trip she saw Curling-leaf. "Slip away with me," Tepua begged. She longed for a few words alone.

They went deep into the palm grove, out of sight of the others. "Matopahu is back in Eimeo," Curling-leaf whispered, in response to Tepua's first question. "Eye-to-heaven is now an underpriest at Putu-nui's
marae
, and your
ari'i
has become his humble attendant. That is all I have heard."
 

Tepua halted, and whispered praise to all the gods who had helped her. At least Matopahu was safe. So long as he remained on sacred ground, no man would harm him. And one day she would show him his son....
 

Still daydreaming, she didn't watch where she was walking until she felt Curling-leaf's warning touch on her arm. She glanced up with a start to see a tall wooden figure scowling at her from beneath the trees.
The boundary of the high chief's land
.
 

"Too many people have been careless lately," whispered Curling-leaf. "Almost every day we hear that someone was caught trespassing against Land-crab. Then a warrior appears with his club, and another body is sent off to the
marae
. Or thrown to the sharks."
 

Tepua was filled with outrage. "But none of it is
his
land!"
 

"Do not say such things." Curling-leaf's expression was darkened by pain. "While you were gone, a priest here was possessed by the gods. He pronounced Land-crab to be the true ruler of the district. If anyone opposes him, the priest says, a great wave will sweep from the sea to punish us."
 

Tepua clapped her hand across her mouth to keep from shouting in anger. "Who would believe such a lie?"

"Of course, not everyone accepts this oracle," Curling-leaf admitted. "But we know what happens to those who speak against it."
 

Tepua wrapped her arms about the nearest coconut tree and tried to expend her fury by shaking it. Suddenly she heard voices.

"Shhh." Curling-leaf pulled her down. Both women lay on their bellies and whispered hasty prayers. The voices came from within the high chief's boundaries, and Tepua realized that she was hearing a pair of Land-crab's servants.
 

She poked her head up just high enough to see. Within the protected land, palms gave way to breadfruit. Tepua watched with astonishment as one servant lifted a forked pole and used it to pull a barely ripened fruit from the tree. When the breadfruit dropped, the second man caught it deftly and lowered it into his basket.
 

Tepua's mouth fell open. The time for harvesting had not yet come! The trees were still under
tapu.
The first fruits must be dedicated to the gods after elaborate ceremonies at the
marae
, and these ceremonies were still days away.
 

The fools will die for this
, she thought. But as she watched, she realized that the two servants seemed unafraid, talking and laughing as they worked. They were evidently following Land-crab's orders. She lowered her head and waited for the pair to finish and move on.
 

As soon as the footsteps died away, Curling-leaf grabbed Tepua's hand and tugged her back in the direction of the performance house. "We saw nothing," Curling-leaf insisted. "Land-crab cannot be eating breadfruit yet."
 

"Is he collecting them for sport?" Tepua asked, disgusted.
What kind of man is this Land-crab, who thinks himself more worthy than the gods
?
 

Tepua left her friend and returned to her task of plaiting mats. Sitting with the other Arioi women near the new performance house, she felt none of the gaiety that had marked preparation for previous festivals. And she was not the only one affected by growing apprehension. Everyone worked in silence, their expressions glum, their shoulders bowed.
 

The situation with the Arioi men was hardly different. Tepua glimpsed no sign of enthusiasm as they lashed planks to the viewing platform. Everyone seemed driven by the fear of Land-crab's priests and warriors rather than by a joyful desire to please the gods.
 

She saw now that her hopes for sparking a new rebellion against Land-crab were in vain. He was as firmly in control of his Arioi as he was of everyone else. No one here would dare risk rousing his ire.
 

Had her visions before Ruro's birth misled her after all? What future was left for her son? She wanted to speak with Aitofa, but how could she face the chiefess when she must lie about her child?
 

Tepua tried to fight a rising sense of despair. Land-crab had the upper hand now, but he could not keep it forever. He was already so arrogant that he defied the gods'
tapu
. In time he would answer for his sins.
 

 

The start of the Ripening Festival finally arrived. When she went out at first light, Tepua saw people from the closest precincts already coming with their offerings. The men carried poles across their shoulders, a basket holding breadfruits and bananas hanging from one end, a piglet dangling by its feet from the other. These first fruits were to be laid before the gods. After a share was dedicated to the divine ones, the rest could be eaten by mortals.
 

The excitement of the day seemed to make people forget the tyranny that oppressed them. Even Tepua tried to put her grievances aside. There would, of course, be no satire directed against Land-crab at this time. But the entire Season of Plenty lay ahead. Perhaps a chance would arise.
 

In the bathing pool the splashing of the Arioi women grew boisterous. When Pehu-pehu came to intervene, Tepua thought she saw a twinkle of merriment in the Blackleg's eyes. This was a day of rejoicing, after all. The gods should be pleased to see everyone happy.
 

Only when the Blackleg's gaze turned toward Tepua did her expression harden. She barked a few words of rebuke.
As everyone expects her
to do. Tepua gritted her teeth and climbed out of the pool.
 

Soon all the Arioi had donned their costumes and paint. They stood on the beach, helping to greet the arriving visitors, whose canoes were laden with gifts.
These offerings are for the gods, not for Land-crab
, Tepua kept telling herself. Yet she knew that the chief would have his pick.
 

At last, with great pomp, the usurper came, riding his bearer. Criers ran before him, proclaiming his greatness in flowery words. Men and women along the route lowered their eyes and bared their shoulders in humble acknowledgment of his authority. Tepua hid behind a palm tree so that the chief's attendants would not see her lack of deference.
 

She could not help peering out as Land-crab was carried past. She had hoped that, like other chiefs, he might grow fat and soft with overindulgence. To her chagrin, she saw that he had not changed much. His gaze remained sharp and his body still appeared powerful. He held himself in regal fashion, seemingly paying no heed to the masses who lined the way. Yet Tepua sensed that nothing missed his gaze. In a single glance he had taken in the wealth of offerings displayed, but he kept his reaction to himself.
 

Following Land-crab's appearance, priests garbed in feathered breastplates and fine mat skirts began the grand procession. Their conch-trumpets made such a din that Tepua knew the distant gods must take notice. She watched in silent fury as the priests headed toward the
marae
, followed by an army of attendants who carried the offerings.
He is the false chief. Matopahu and his son deserve these honors
.
 

Tepua and most of the others had to view the ceremonies from a distance. Only noblemen of the highest rank were permitted onto the sacred paving stones of the
marae.
Common people stood beneath the surrounding high trees and chanted their own prayers, bringing out small images of the personal gods who protected them. Tepua possessed no image of Tapahi-roro-ariki, but she required none. If she closed her eyes, she could see the strong features of her ancestress, the great chiefess of long ago.
 

Tapahi-roro-ariki. Was she not much like the Purea of Tepua's vision? Though Purea's life lay yet ahead, though she had not even been born, Tepua saw a similarity between the two women. Each had a quiet strength, a determination to fight when necessary, and a willingness to try peaceful means for gaining her ends.
 

Tepua herself lay in the middle, the cord of sennit that joined these extraordinary figures. If the cord frayed and the joining failed...No. Tepua prayed softly, gathering her courage. She thought of Ruro, growing rapidly in Round-pebble's care. Someday he would return to his family's lands. He would be the next length of the sacred line....