Song of the Spirits (73 page)

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Authors: Sarah Lark

Tags: #Fiction, #Sagas, #Historical, #Romance, #General

BOOK: Song of the Spirits
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Over the next few weeks, the work with the songs of her ancestors filled her days, but her nights remained lonely, no matter what she did to try to encourage Caleb. She finally got her hopes up when he asked her to make contact with a local Maori tribe.

“I can well imagine how a
haka
like this sounds. You bring the various voices together beautifully, after all, Miss Martyn. But I would love to hear them in their native environment and see the dancing. Do you think the tribe would perform a
haka
for us?”

Kura nodded. “Yes, of course. It’s part of the greeting ritual when honored visitors introduce themselves. Only I don’t know where the nearest tribe lives. We might be on the road for several days…”

“If that’s not a problem for you,” Caleb said, “I’m sure my father would let me have the time off.”

Kura had already learned how exceedingly generous Caleb’s father was with his son’s time—at least when he spent it with Kura. She often wondered how the mine could possibly spare his help almost every morning or afternoon, since the work on the
haka
could only take place when the pub was closed. Mrs. Biller had begun to invite Kura regularly to tea—a wasted effort, really, but Kura found it far
more enjoyable to work on Caleb’s perfectly tuned piano in his salon than in Paddy’s smoky pub. So she often made plans to work on music with Caleb first and then to drink tea afterward with his mother. As a pleasant ancillary, Mrs. Biller served exceptional delicacies with tea. Kura ate enough to last her the rest of the day.

“I do like it when young people help themselves heartily,” Mrs. Biller said enthusiastically as Kura devoured great quantities of sandwiches and cakes, but always with the most graceful of movements.

“Thank you,” said Kura.

They tracked down the nearest Maori tribe in the area around Punakaiki, a tiny village between Greymouth and Westport. The nearby Pancake Rocks formation was famous, Caleb explained excitedly as soon as Kura told him the location. Although he took little interest in anything practical—such as mining—he was nevertheless an enthusiastic geologist and suggested making a side trip to view the rocks while they were they were in the area visiting the tribe. There might even be a hostel nearby where they could spend the night.

“The tribe will invite us to spend the night there,” Kura replied.

Caleb nodded but looked a little nervous. “I don’t know. Would that be decent? I wouldn’t want to offend them.”

Kura laughed and tried once more to draw him out of his shell by stroking his hair and neck. She even rubbed her hips against him, but he only looked embarrassed.

“Caleb, I’m half-Maori. Anything that is decent to my people is acceptable to me as well. You will have to have to acquaint yourself with the customs of my people. After all, we mean to ask the tribe to make its defining repertoire, its own special tribal
haka
, available to us. And that won’t happen if you treat them like exotic animals.”

“Oh, I have the greatest respect…”

Kura did not listen further. Perhaps Caleb would finally let himself go, out of respect for the customs of her people. For the time being,
however, she continued to spend her nights touching herself and dreaming of William.

The journey to Pancake Rocks took almost a full day with Kura’s coach and their horses. She had hoped for a faster team from the Billers’ stables. But Caleb knew almost as little about horses as she did, so they were both quite relieved to hear that it was better to hike the Pancake Rocks than to attempt the difficult path with a carriage. Moreover, the weather was stormy, which was making the horses jittery.

However, it was ideal weather for the Pancake Rocks, the bartender at the inn in Punakaiki had explained.

“The effect becomes truly spectacular when the sea swells. Then it looks like the ‘pancakes’ are being grilled over geysers!” the man said, laughing happily as he pocketed the money for two single rooms. He was, of course, convinced that the young couple really only wanted one. And though he could not have cared less where the two of them ended up spending the night, that had not stopped him from asking sternly for their marriage certificate when they arrived. The success of this ploy had raised his spirits, and after that he was delighted to play tour guide.

A short while later, Kura and Caleb found themselves ambling among the strange pancake-round rock layers along the edge of the roaring sea. Kura’s loose hair flew in the wind, and she looked ravishing. That had no effect on Caleb, however; he merely lectured, enthralled, about the density of limestone and the impact of hydraulic forces.

Kura’s beauty did attract two young Maori men, who, after speaking briefly with her, invited the two hikers to visit their tribe. It turned out that they had already heard of Kura. Since her guest performance for the tribe near Blenheim, she had become known as a
tohunga
, and the young men gave the impression that they could not wait to hear her music. The looks they gave Kura’s breasts and hips, though, indicated more, Caleb noticed with embarrassment. He insisted that they not
accept the invitation immediately and instead head over to the Maori village the next day.

“Those two boys do not look very trustworthy to me,” he said, concerned, as he led Kura back to the inn. “Who knows what they would have attempted if we had simply followed them into the wilderness. Besides, it will be dark soon.”

Kura laughed. “They wouldn’t have attempted anything with us, although no doubt they would have liked to attempt something with
me
. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Caleb. It’s flattering. They probably would have spent the whole trip displaying their daring in an effort to lure me out of your bed and into one of theirs.”

“Kura!” Caleb looked at her indignantly.

Kura giggled. “Don’t be such a prude! Or should I have said we were married? Then they would have left me alone.”

Caleb looked like he was in agony, and Kura did not provoke him further. Though he still did not touch her that evening, he proved extremely generous by treating her to the best food and wine Punakaiki had to offer. That wasn’t saying much, but ever since Kura had embarked on her largely penniless nomadic life, she had learned how to appreciate small gestures.

The next morning, Kura followed the Maori’s directions to their
kainga
and found the village straightaway. Caleb was surprised by its size. Until then, he had apparently been under the impression that the Maori lived in tepees like some Indians in America. The diversity of houses, sleeping halls, cooking houses, and storehouses astounded him.

Kura wondered, not for the first time, how some
pakeha
children grew up so sheltered from reality. Although it was true that there was no fixed Maori settlement right next to Greymouth, as far as she knew, Caleb had visited several cities on the South Island, as well as Wellington and Auckland. Had there really been no opportunity to learn about Maori culture there? However, Caleb had still only been a child at the time. He, like Timothy Lambert, had spent almost his entire youth in English boarding schools and universities.

As Kura had expected, they were convivially received and did not even have to ask the villagers to show them the most important
haka
.

“These tribal
haka
have an unusual story behind them,” Kura explained to Caleb while the men and women demonstrated their personal dance. “Originally, they were composed by rival tribes and meant to mock the tribe. But then the tribes adopted the
haka
themselves, out of pride that anyone had enough fear or respect for them to compose a defensive song.”

Naturally, Kura spoke fluent Maori, and the villagers were excited to see that Caleb had already picked up quite a few phrases and learned several more over the course of the day. Even Kura was surprised at how easily it came to him. Though she had learned a bit of French and German during her singing lessons, she had never succeeded in repeating the words with no accent as Caleb now managed to do with the Maori language.

Eventually, the two of them found themselves seated in the splendidly carved meetinghouse with the villagers, passing around the whiskey bottle they had brought with them. It wasn’t long before Kura was tipsy. To everybody’s amusement, she selected one of the strapping young dancers and disappeared outside with him. Caleb assumed an indignant expression, but not a jealous one. Kura grew a little annoyed when she noted it, and the Maori were rather surprised.

“You not…?”

Kura observed the man beside Caleb making an obscene gesture. Caleb turned red.

“No, we’re only… friends,” he stuttered.

The man followed this with a remark that caused a great deal of laughter.

“He says, ‘We Maori don’t do it with enemies either,’” his wife translated.

The next day, Kura explained to the still slightly indignant Caleb that she had only wanted to elicit a special love song from her companion. The young dancer was happy to sing one for Caleb too, after he had finished laughing. The thought of singing a love song for a man seemed more than a little strange to him. But then he sang and
danced with almost exaggerated gestures, and Kura observed that Caleb was so lost in admiration that he hardly managed to notate the music. When his eyes lit up, it clarified to Kura once and for all why all her charms were wasted on him. Later, when he insisted that she translate the text for him, Kura took a few liberties with its obscene content.

Shortly before the two of them started upon their return to Greymouth, Kura had another encounter that preoccupied her a great deal more than Caleb’s obvious preference for the male sex.

The chief’s wife, a strong, resolute woman who had always danced the
haka
in the first row, spoke to Kura as she was packing her things away.

“You come from Greymouth, is that right? Do you know if the girl with the flaming hair is still there?”

“A redheaded girl?” Kura thought immediately of Elaine but pretended to be unsure.

“A delicate little creature who even looks a bit like you—if one has good eyes,” the chieftain’s wife said, smiling as an incensed look appeared on Kura’s face.

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