Child of the Dawn (30 page)

Many nights, after dark, the family had sat together inside their snug house singing just these songs.

 

Here I go, riding the waves.

Here I go, blown by the wind....

 

In the highlands, the night air quickly grew cool. The women wrapped themselves in the extra bark-cloth cloaks they had brought. After the long walk and the heavy work of setting up camp, Tepua felt pleasantly weary. She barely noticed how hard and lumpy the ground was beneath her bed of ferns. Her eyes closed and she began to drift off....
 

Until Tepua felt her cousin's hand clutch her arm.

"What was that?" whispered Maukiri.

Tepua sat up, trying to shake off the frantic grip so that she could reach for her spear. From outside the shelter she heard soft rustling. "Ghosts!" Maukiri hissed. "With long teeth!"
 

Tepua's pulse raced as she listened. A twig snapped and then another.
Pehu-pehu and her nasty friends
? She found the weapon's shaft and held it tightly while she whispered a prayer.
 

Then came a soft grunt. "Yes, they have teeth," she cried with relief. "And four legs."

"Ghost pigs!"

From outside came more sounds of grunting and pawing. The breeze shifted; a strong swine odor drifted through the shelter. "No," Tepua answered. "These are the meaty kind. Wild ones."
 

"That is just as bad." Maukiri's arms were about Tepua and her body was trembling.

"They smell the cooked food," said Tepua, trying not to think of long tusks, or of the legendary Man-slaying Pig. "After they root around awhile, they'll leave." She had buried the fish bones and other remains of the meal, but perhaps she had not made the hole deep enough.
 

Maukiri stirred. "If the pigs are still hungry..."

"
Aue
! They will not eat you. But if you let go of me, maybe I can use this spear. How would you like baked pork tomorrow? There are no men around to say it is
tapu.
"
 

"I can't...think of food. Cousin, why did we come to this terrible place? Why don't we go home?"

"Home?" Tepua paused, and was relieved to hear the sound of the pigs departing. "Do you know what you are saying, Maukiri?"

"Yes. My mother would be glad to have us. And to raise your child."

Tepua sighed in dismay. She had entertained such thoughts, and knew where they led. "Ehi would be the only one to welcome me. Have you forgotten all the trouble I caused when I went back the last time? Remember that I am my father's firstborn, even though my brother rules."
 

Tepua was descended from a long line of chiefs, each the firstborn of his or her family, each inheriting more
mana
from the parents than did later children. Accordingly, the firstborn was always the preferred choice for succession to the chiefhood. If she produced a child, it would have precedence over everyone now alive.
 

Imagining the strife that a child of hers would cause brought tears to Tepua's eyes. How could she disturb the peaceful reign of her younger brother, who had already shown such promise as a chief? "No. Everything is settled," she said. "I cannot go back in this condition. You know that, Maukiri. We are high islanders now." She put her arms around her cousin and tried to ease Maukiri's trembling.
 

"Then tomorrow...tomorrow we need to find a better place. Where pigs can't get to us."

"Yes. Tomorrow." Tepua lay down again on the mat. Outside now, all remained silent. She closed her eyes and envisioned the delicate blue waters of her home lagoon. She and Maukiri were paddling a small outrigger canoe, heading into shore, approaching a dazzling white beach....
 

 

In the morning the pair set out early, following the river upstream as soon as they could see their way. At times, rock walls forced the trail to the bank and then to the stream's other side. At each crossing, the women disrobed, holding their bark-cloth wraps and baskets high as they waded through the chilly flow that sometimes rose above their waists. At last, the trail ran straight for a time.
 

"This might be a good site," said Maukiri, as they approached a grotto hollowed from the fern-covered stone of the valley wall. Grass and young bushes sprouted near the cave's mouth. 'The sides and roof look solid. I think we would be safe in there."
 

Tepua put down her burdens and studied the small cave. A thick carpet of old banana leaves inside suggested that other people had taken shelter there. What kind of people? she wondered, frowning. She hoped that Maukiri had never heard tales of Lizard People, reputed to still live in remote high valleys of Tahiti.
 

"If we stay here," said Tepua cautiously, "we will need to put up a fence. That will keep out the pigs." She refrained from mentioning other dangers.
 

"Good," said Maukiri, opening her basket. "I'll take the knife and go cut bamboo canes."

As the sun rose higher, Tepua squatted on her heels and dug holes in the hard-packed soil before the cave. She had crudely fashioned a digging stick by snapping off a twig and rubbing its end to a point. The valley kept growing warmer. The air was alive with twittering birds and whirring insects.
 

When Maukiri brought the bamboo canes, she and Tepua pushed them into the ground as deep as they would go, spacing them closely. The women left no opening, but instead made the fence so low in one place that they could step over it.
 

"I will sleep better tonight," said Maukiri when they were done.

"Not if your belly is empty," Tepua retorted, insisting that they dig a pit-oven and line it with heavy, black stones. She sent Maukiri to dig up wild taro, which required lengthy baking, and went off on her own to look for bananas. There were no coconut trees growing this far inland. Wild tubers, freshwater fish, and crayfish would be the main sources of food during her exile.
 

Carrying her spear, Tepua continued up the twisting gorge, rounded a jagged outcrop, and suddenly found herself in a different setting. The valley was broader here, the forest open. Several trees bore upland bananas, their purplish stalks raised high as if to show pride in their crop. Her mouth watered as she ran to the nearest tree.
 

Then a sound made her freeze. From nearby came voices. She felt sweat bead on her brow and trickle down, stinging her eyes.

The voices were getting closer. She thought she might pull down some broad leaves and hide underneath. As she reached for one, she heard a shout and then another. Men's voices. Footsteps. Before she could run, they surrounded her.
 

Lizard People
! The six men were darker and shorter than most Tahitians. Their beards were not neatly shaped and plucked, but grew in tangles under their chins. Their hair was long, tied back in the fashion of atoll warriors. They wore loincloths ornamented with designs of crude human figures. Each man carried a heavy club, and these too were carved with human images.
 

Tepua stifled her cry of fear. She did not want to bring Maukiri into the trap after her. She clutched her weapon, wondering if her cousin would sense the danger and flee. Her initial instinct was to fight, but six men circled her, and they all looked strong. One began to speak.
 

At first she could not understand him. Then she realized that his language was not so different from that of coastal Tahiti. It was spoken with an odd intonation, and contained a few words whose meaning she had to guess. "Who are you? Why do you steal our bananas?" he asked harshly.
 

"I—" Her mouth felt dry. Suddenly she drew herself to her full height. "I am Tepua-mua-ariki," she said, "daughter of Kohekapu," and proceeded to recite part of her lineage.
 

"
Ari'i
?" The squat men looked up at her and then at each other. They pointed at her rudely, discussing her appearance. Then the one who seemed to be their leader took a step forward and addressed her.
 

"You have no claim on this land. This is ours, from before the time of the
ari'i.
Do not think you can come and seize it. We will defend this land." He raised his club and shook it at her.
 

She faced him squarely. "I wish only to dwell...in that other valley." She gestured toward where she had been.

"There?" The men's scowls vanished. From all sides came high-pitched peals of laughter.

"What is wrong with that place?" Tepua demanded.

Again, the men laughed, and Tepua saw no way to get an answer from them. But now that the tension was broken, she thought that a peace offering might serve her. If only she had a gift...

Her hands went to her neck, fingering her necklace of polished shells. "Take this," she said to the leader. "We will be friends."

He grasped the necklace in his stubby fingers and turned it over, his eyes wide with delight. He dangled it before his friends, but when they showed too much interest, he pulled it over his head, glancing down with pleasure at the way it hung across his brown, muscular chest. "All right,
vahine ari'i
" he said cheerfully. "We will be friends. And I will tell you why you do not want to live in that other valley." His companions crowded closer, all seemingly eager to see Tepua's reaction to his news.
 

"It is because the evil spirits live there," the man with the necklace said. "You will recognize them. They look just like us, but they float this high above the ground." He put his palm at the level of his knee.
 

"But...I do not know where else to live. Last night I heard only wild pigs."

Once more the men dissolved in laughter, turning around and doing little dances of mirth. "Do you think the savage ones make noises? No. They slip up on you quietly. When they finish, there is nothing left but your bones."
 

Tepua bit her lip. She did not know what to make of this warning. She recalled the old bedding in the cave. Other people had stayed there. She saw no signs that harm had come to them.
 

"So," said the leader. "You will go? If you change your mind, come ask for me—Pig-bone. I am headman. I will welcome you to my house."
 

Tepua glanced back longingly at the bananas. "Yes. Take some, " said Pig-bone, reaching up to break off a stalk. "Put a few out as an offering to the evil ones. Maybe they will leave you alone."
 

 

When Tepua returned to the cave, she found Maukiri in front, plucking feathers from a brightly covered jungle fowl. "How...how did you catch that, cousin?" she asked.
 

"Have you forgotten how good I am at throwing stones?"

Tepua raised her eyebrows. At home, Maukiri had often been sent out to bring back a few chickens. The birds roosted in trees and seemed to know when anyone was eyeing them for a meal. It took sharp aim to bring one down. "Then we will have a good dinner," Tepua said, adding nothing about her encounter. She hoped that Maukiri's prize did not belong to Pig-bone's people.
 

After darkness fell, and the women had entered the cave, Tepua tossed three of the remaining bananas outside the fence. She whispered a short prayer to keep out intruders. "What are you doing?" asked Maukiri, but Tepua did not answer. She slipped back inside, wrapped herself in bark-cloth, and placed her spear close at hand.
 

"I hear something," said Maukiri. "From
inside.
"
 

Tepua sat up and listened, turning her head. "It sounds like water seeping through the rocks."

"That's what it must be." Maukiri pressed herself closer to Tepua. "But what's
that
?"
 

Tepua had heard it also—a soft rustling just over her head. "Maybe an insect...or a gecko." She wished her blood would stop pounding in her ears so that she could listen. The talk of evil spirits was only meant to frighten her, she told herself.
 

"We are safe in here," said Maukiri. "Geckos don't bother me." She yawned. Shortly, her breathing slowed and deepened.

Tepua lay wide-awake, thinking about the men she had seen today. Lizard People were supposed to be able to scale sheer walls of rock; that was the reason for their name. But perhaps Pig-bone's men were nothing more than they seemed—people left over from the old times, the first
manahune
, whose ancestors had been conquered by the arriving warriors of legend. As for the warning, these men were just having fun with her. Perhaps.
 

Tepua found herself wishing that she had taken the headman up on his offer. No matter how coarse the hospitality he offered, it would be better than staying in the isolation of this cave. Even if no hungry spirits haunted the place, she did not think that she could sleep here.
 

 

 

 

SIXTEEN

 

When the morning shadows were still long, Tepua and Maukiri, carrying all they possessed, entered the valley of the upland
manahune.
Maukiri was still complaining, "After all that work of making the fence—"
 

"Then live in the cave by yourself," Tepua snapped.

"All right, cousin. I will visit these wild people, but I cannot promise that I will stay with them."

The banana groves were silent, their leaves scarcely astir in the morning breeze. Behind them Tepua saw breadfruit trees, most bare of fruit, a few holding a small crop. The season for breadfruit appeared to be over.
 

She looked around cautiously, hoping to avoid another surprise. Where were Pig-bone's people? To keep from alarming them, she held her spear low.
 

Suddenly a chorus of whoops and cries rang out. From all sides, men and women emerged from behind trees. Many carried clubs or short spears.
 

The men were as fierce looking as those who had surrounded her on the previous day, their ornaments of bone and tusk giving off a menacing sheen. The women looked just as wild. Their black hair was short, frizzy or curly, adorned with tufts of chicken feathers and wreaths of jungle vines.