Mana (10 page)

“The attack stopped abruptly when spears thrown at Tamai rebounded short of their target and each found the chest of an attacking warrior. The white waves turned red with their blood. Bodies rose and fell on the swells. In terror, the survivors reversed their canoes and paddled frantically toward the far horizon whence they had come.

“It was that night that the old man explained to Tamai what had happened, that the small boy they had rescued from the disappearing mountain had been the incarnation of mana, and that she was now the repository of that force. He went on to teach her the incantations that would make it possible for her to pass it along to the eldest of her sons. It was with that son that men took over the chieftainship of the ocean people.”

* * *

For the first time, Toa paused. He closed the folder and looked out at his audience. “That's the complete story. The remainder of his memoirs deal mainly with the customs of the Tongans at the time he lived among them.”

Both Tessa and Lehua exhaled audibly as they relaxed from listening to the tale. Tessa quickly asked, “What about the second document you mentioned? Is it also concerned with mana?”

The barest hint of a smile brushed across the heavy features. “I have a translation of it right here. In a way, it picks up from where the last story ended, but it was put down on paper almost two centuries later. The source is the daughter of an Eighteenth-Century French trader and a Samoan woman. The daughter lived in Samoa all of her adult life and kept an extensive diary, which included many Samoan legends. When she died, her papers were left to a cousin here in France and eventually ended up in a private collection of manuscripts. If you'd care to hear it, I'll read you the legend I find most interesting.”

Tessa nodded, but Toa hadn't waited for her response, having already reached down and picked up another manila folder.

Chapter 11

“The Samoans and Tongans had done battle for many generations. Whenever their war canoes met on the open sea, the Samoans emerged victorious, but when the Samoan warriors landed on the Tongan beaches they were always driven off. It took only the presence of the Tongan chief with his mysterious power of repelling attacks and turning the invaders' spears back upon themselves, to send the Samoans scrambling back to their homeland, pursued by terror of the unknown.

“One day, the wife of a wise chief of the Samoans bore him a boy child whose birth cries kept the entire village awake that night. Luelu, as he was called, grew quickly. Before the sun had traveled its full course from its northernmost home to its southernmost one, Luelu had already begun to utter words. His mother smiled, and called him her little ‘talker.' He talked, but he also listened.

“The elders marveled at how quickly the growing boy mastered the genealogies, the wisdom of the people, the legends of the Samoans. And his peers listened with rapt attention as he wove fantasies to amuse them during games of tilu, or while they rested on the sandy beach, tired from swimming the waters of the vast lagoon.

“As Luelu grew, his deeds rivaled his speech. In the games played by the young men, he soon became the invariable winner, whether in mock battles, spear throwing or vaulting. His father, the chief, could see Luelu would be not only a great warrior but would, indeed, be a leader of the Samoan fighting men. The eyes of the young, unmarried women followed the handsome figure, and his persuasive words swayed the hearts of many of them.

“Yet most of Luelu's concerns were those of a warrior. Conscious of his growing strength, and impatient with the failure of the Samoan warriors to defeat the Tongans, Luelu one day proposed sending a massive fleet of war canoes to overwhelm the enemy. His father smiled at his impetuous son and said, ‘For countless generations we have tried the force of our spears against the Tongans. The results have been mounds of Samoan bodies. Only the discovery of their secret will bring success to the campaign you propose.'

“‘Surely father,' Luelu replied, ‘there must be some way to discover the secret of the Tongan chief. If we go there in overwhelming force, perhaps we can unlock that secret.'

“Luelu's father continued to smile at his handsome son. ‘How do we fell the giant koa when we wish to fashion it into a canoe? Do we go into the forest and hack away with our axes at the tree?'

“‘No,' the young man replied, ‘We carefully remove the bark at the base, allow the tree to die, and the wind topples it for us. By then it is properly seasoned and ready for the knives and chisels of the craftsmen.'

“‘How do we catch our fish when we hunger? Do we go out in the reefs and stab at the water with our spears?'

“‘No, father. Only children would do such a thing. We weave nets and drop them in the quiet pools. Then we wait patiently for the schools to swim over the nets and into their meshes.'

“‘How do we hunt the birds who provide flesh for our meals and plumage for our cloaks? Do we climb the tall koas and walk the slim branches to grasp them?'

“‘Never, father. That would be foolishness itself. Instead, we use the sticky sap of the breadfruit, and when the bird entraps itself we simply harvest our prey.'

“‘So now you see how futile it would be to flail helplessly at what we want when our goal is to be obtained by another, perhaps not so direct, but far smoother path.'

“Leaving his father's presence, the son was wrapped in his own thoughts. Planning, patience and perseverance seemed to him to be the gist of his father's instructions. With that in mind he gathered his young warrior friends to discuss a new approach to mastery of the Tongan foe. Soon a scheme emerged.

“Several days later a small and lightning-swift racing canoe set out for Tonga. Approaching those islands, the warriors spotted the tall cliff near the village of the Tongan chief. At sight of it, they dropped the sail, waited for darkness, and then silently paddled toward a sandy beach. Carefully lowering himself into the shallow waters, Luelu bade farewell to his companions until the next dark moon, waded ashore, then slashed his chest and arms with his knife and flung the weapon out to sea. Eating a small portion of the gall-bladder of the
oopuhue
, he sat on the beach, waiting for the poison to take effect.

“It was shortly after dawn that playing children, as they ran the length of the beach, discovered the unconscious and wounded stranger. Elders from the nearby village answered their cries and the still figure was carried into one of the thatched huts. When Luelu drifted back to consciousness, he remembered to speak with halting and belabored words in order to disguise the tongue he knew the Tongans would recognize as that of their enemies.

“His rescuers were friendly but inquisitive. Luelu, recovering from his self-inflicted wounds and the effects of the poison, played on their curiosity. He told them a tale of a lost craft drifting for days, of a terrible storm swamping it and drowning the rest of the crew, of his long journey from a faraway western island and his last days guiding a crippled canoe with a splintered paddle, a broken mast and a shredded sail. His tale brought sympathetic sounds from his listeners. By the third day, the stories he wove brought suggestions this spinner of wondrous tales be taken before their chief.

“It was the third morning after his arrival, when he was now able to stand and walk, that he was helped on the short journey to a neighboring village and into the presence of the Tongan chief. It was in that presence the way to uncover the secret occurred to him. It was a way he had never dreamt would be there, but he knew it would be a smooth path he would surely tread successfully.

“Tupala had just come of age. Soon the slender, lovely woman, who had so recently been a girl, would marry. The chief of the Tongans was proud of this daughter, almost as proud as he was of Tupou, his only son. Allowing the stranger to stand in the presence of the royal family, the old chief, now blind and almost deaf, urged him to repeat his story and to speak it loudly.

“Luelu remembered his father's questions and the lessons he had learned from his own replies. As he recited his false tale in careful but hesitant words, he never once rested his eyes on Tupala, recalling the path to his goal might best be an indirect one. Now he embroidered on his story. He made himself the eldest son of a chief from that distant land, his crew had been his attendants, his quest a search for the loveliest woman to be found in the wide ocean, a woman who would become his bride and return with him to rule over an island rich with fruit and fish. Already he had visited many islands in his unsuccessful search, only to have it cut short by the gods of the storm, of the sea, and of the wind.

“The chief was pleased at what he heard and called for the evening meal to be served. Tupala retreated with the other women as the servants entered with mounds of food piled on ti leaves. The chief invited the stranger to sit with him and his son and to partake of the rich meal, urging Luelu all the while to tell him about his homeland, about the long voyage and the storm that had interrupted his quest.

“Perhaps it was the fermented drink from the awa, or perhaps it was merely the knowledge that here he was sitting only an arm's length from the mystery he had set out to solve, which loosened his tongue. Whatever the cause, Luelu began speaking fluently and carelessly. Tupou, the tall, powerful son of the chief wondered about this stranger, and the more the stranger spoke, the more Tupou's eyes narrowed in suspicion. The chief, wrapped in the infirmities of his age, sensed nothing amiss. Instead, he enjoyed to the utmost the deft depiction of stars he had never seen, of customs he had never encountered and of places he had never heard of.

“When the sun neared the end of its swift glide into the western ocean, the old chief invited Luelu to stay that night and sleep in the men's house and to return the next morning to finish his tale. That was when Luelu noticed something strange. As the old man struggled to his feet, he tottered and almost fell. Yet no one came to his aid. Even his son stood quietly by. Only the use of his rod of state as a cane rescued him from the fall. Luelu not only took note, he also wondered.

“The following day's audience included the women, Tupala among them. Again, Luelu took no notice of the chief's daughter as his story grew and grew, borrowing on the legends of his people, filling in the gaps with his fertile imagination. While he spoke, his eye fell on a barely nubile girl, a maidservant of the family, one with an open face whose features were now clearly showing her fascination with this strange and handsome story teller.

“When the chief, his son, and several of the male elders gathered for the midday meal, Luelu took the opportunity to inquire about the maidservant. The chief smiled at the question. “O'onane is a breadfruit tree ready for its first harvest. I can see no reason why you should not laugh with her. Your long journey without a woman should make you an eager harvester. I will see that the word of your interest reaches the women's house.

“Luelu smiled to himself as he saw yet another step in his scheme successfully mastered, but this time he was fully aware of Tupou's stormy face which had darkened ominously on hearing Luelu speak of O'onane. That night, O'onane slipped out of the women's house. The sliver of a moon and the bright evening star was enough to show the smile on her face and her pleasure at finding Luelu waiting for her.

“The days went by, and Luelu taught the young men of the island some of the craft of Samoa, new lashings for the outriggers, a different weave for the pandanus fronds to shed the tropical rains, and strange and humorous variants on their common legends. The nights went by filled with O'onane under the palms along the beach, beneath a waxing moon shining down on their love making.

“When they were not laughing together, Luelu regaled his adoring partner with stories from his mythical homeland, but he also prompted her to tell him more about herself, about the royal family and about the aura surrounding the old chief. Reluctant at first to speak of that aura, O'onane slowly painted a picture even more strange than what Luelu had anticipated.

“‘He possesses mana,' O'onane whispered into Luelu's attentive ear. ‘Not only will it turn the club or spear of anyone wishing him harm, it can also strike out against those who may touch him or even reach toward him.'

“‘Where did he get this mana? Where will it go when he dies? Can no one touch him without being harmed? What of…'

“O'onane laughed softly as she put her hand to his lips to silence him. ‘Enough, enough,' she said. ‘I know so little about it, I cannot even answer the questions you ask and certainly not all the others yet to burst from you. Only the chief could answer your questions, or perhaps Tupou. The stories in the village are that the chief will soon be passing the mana to him along with the feathered rod of state. That is all I know.'

“It was that night, while he felt the sleep breath of O'onane on his chest, that Luelu saw most clearly the next rung on the ladder and the size of the step he would have to take to attain it. The following day he took that step, when the young men had gathered and had begun playing the sports young men play. Luelu challenged one of the Tongan males to a contest of
uma
, an arm wrestling duel. Luelu had long practiced it with the strongest of his own warriors and had become the unchallenged champion of the sport.

“The Tongan knelt on the ground, planted the elbow of his right arm firmly in front of him and opened his hand. Luelu knelt opposite him, and they joined hands. One of the other men counted and, at the third beat, Luelu easily pushed his opponent's hand flat to the ground. Then others challenged him, and Luelu dealt with them just as swiftly.

“Finally, the tallest of the Tongans knelt opposite him, grinned and extended his open palm. Luelu met the challenge, gradually forcing the giant Tongan's hand flat to the sandy ground. The men surrounding the pair cheered. Then someone said, ‘There is only one
uma
wrestler left. Others immediately shouted, ‘Tupou! Tupou!' and the tall son of the chief stepped through the crowd.

“Without a word, Tupou knelt, firmly planted his elbow in the ground and stretched his palm out to meet Luelu's. The count began. At the third beat the muscles of the two contestants rippled in the noon sun. Sweat stood out on their foreheads. The veins bulged on their hands and arms. Slowly, ever so slowly, Luelu forced Tupou's forearm back and back. Then, suddenly, with a supreme effort, Tupou recovered. Tupou's arm followed through the full arc and slammed Luelu's to the ground.

“The onlookers shook the palm trees with their cheers. They praised both contestants. Soon afterwards the crowd had turned to playing the game of
maika
with circular stones. While the others were engrossed in their game, Tupou called Luelu aside. ‘I know you allowed me to win,' he said, ‘so I would not be shamed before my people. Now I owe you a favor. I do not know who you really are, stranger, but once I have repaid my debt, beware! I know you harbor only ill will for me and my people.'

“‘You are mistaken,' Luelu replied. ‘I bear neither you nor your people any ill will. Nor did I allow you to win, but I will accept your favor. I ask only you relieve me of a burden.'

“‘What burden?'

“‘Why, O'onane, of course. You mean you did not know? All she does is speak of Tupou. It is Tupou this and Tupou that. She is enamored of you, but cannot admit it even to herself. Talk to her, and you will see I speak truly.'

“Tupou's face took on the look of a storm cloud. ‘You know I cannot do that. During the day, my rank would never allow me to speak to her. At night, I cannot enter the women's house. Only if she comes to me willingly can I know what you tell me is true.'

“‘Surely you must have some way of getting a message to her. Could not your sister be your messenger?'