UTU.

Taranaki Daily News, 15 December 1922, Page 1 (Supplement)

UTU.

(First Prize Short Story Competition.)

A TALE OF EARLY TARANAKI. A TOHUNGA’S FATE. (By “El Arish.”) Many legends and mythologies have been preserved in the Maori mind, yet early events pertaining to Taranaki are hidden in obscurity, ow : ng largely to the secretive instincts of the tohungas and native scribes, many of whom carried secrets to the grave, which, if told, would have I een of inestimable value to geologists and the general public. Generations before the advent of the white man, Mt. Egmont, belching forth a mighty volume of smoke, was worshipped as a God by the superstitious natives, who, when rising in the morning, would chant with upturned faces to the mighty peak standing majestically among the clouds, ever gazing seawards, a guardian by day, and a guide by night. Should old Egmont pour unusually dense columns heavenwards, a taepo had angered him, or perhaps he was crying for good. If so, he must be fed. In a quiescent moment, a long line of doomed, trembling wretches would be driven up the mountain, to be hurled shrieking and clawing into the fiery gulf below. Ah’ If only Egmont could speak. Away with those idle fallacies relating to his dormancy dating beyond the ken of man! There are natives to-day in New Zealand, who, if they so willed, could establish beyond doubt the fact that our much beloved peak has been in eruption since the coming of the Maori. In the neighborhood of Pihama, there once stood an impregnable pah, which was ruled over by a chief renowned for his prowess in battle and resource upon all occasions. This chie r was known as Raupipi, and, although he was scrupulously just and honorable, he made enemies among his own people. Toe cause of this enmity related to a magic greenstone axe which an ancestor of Raupipi’s had fashioned from that beautiful stone obtained at Milford Sound during an expedition to the south. The lucky possessor of the axe was said to be impervious to death in battle, nor could he be bewitched by the demons that lurked in the recesses of the forest. Now, next in command to Raupipi ranked a pusillanimous chief named Kuru, who deeply coveted the magic axe, and had sworn to possess it, no matter what crime had to be perpetrated to bring such possession about. Raupipi had a little son about twelve years of age, whom he had named “Rata,” after the gorgeous climbing vine which grew in profusion around the cultivations. Little Rata was the chief’s greatest joy. Long days he spent in teaching him woodcraft and the use of weapons. And right nobly did the manly lad respond to the efforts made on his behalf. Truly, never before had such love existed between father and son. It was in the month of November, the sun beamed steadily from an azure sky. and even the slaves sang as they tended the kumara patches. Away out , at sea, the fishing canoes rose lazily ' upon the long swell, seeming like so j many graceful birds nestling upon the ' bosom of the deep. Tn the background Egmont quietly smoked, his watchful , eye observing all, just as he observes to-day. Within the precincts of the pah all was bustle and excitement, for a war party was shortly to leave for the Waitara, in an endeavor to chastise an unruly chief who had failed in his allegiance to Raupipi. Indeed, so great had been the depredations of this rebel that Raupipi had himself decided to lead the punitive expedition south. Before his departure, he called Rata to him. “Son.” he said, and his face clouded over, “I go forth once more upon the war-trail. Weigh well my words. No man knows when the night is upon him. I take not the magic axe with me, for I am warned. The spirit of my grandfather spoke to me in the silence of the night. It may be that I shall return no more, but the axe is safe.” Then the chief drew his son to him. and whispered low. The lad nodded. The hiding-place of the magic axe was in his keeping. Shortly afterwards Raupipi stalked from the pah, behind him following a chosen band of seasoned warriors, every man being provided with a slave bearing his kai. ihainly visible to all men was the clearly defined outline of the magic axe nestling beneath the chief’s mat' It was a well-known fact that he never took the war-path without it. Kuru. being next in command, assumed control of the pah, hie arrogant, overbearing manner making him hated by all except a few of his pampered and faithful adherents. Living in seclusion at the base of a water-worn boulder was the great tohunga Moki. a cannibal who was noted through the breadth and length of the North Island for his ferocity and cunning. To this fearsome savage Kuru repaired for counsel and guidance. He found the wizard gazing into the limpid depths of a crvstal pool near his whare. Y itnout raising his head the tohunga suddenly screamed. “Blood, blood, red am gurgling. I see it everywhere. In the stream c on the mountain and the sea. Oh! AA! A-ba”

Horrified, his blood frozen, Kuru started back with staring eyes. His outstretched hands clawed at the air, as though warding off some evil. The tohunga laughed and raised his head. “Draw nearer, my son,” he said. Kuru did so, then stood as though petrified, for the sunlit depths into which he gazed slowly changed to bright-red blood. The cells of his brain felt as if they must burst, while his legs trembled as those of a man shaken by palsy. The hideous, leering face of the tohunga peered up at him, noting with joy the dramatic effect of his efforts. An accomplished mesmerist, he had long played upon the corrupt minds of many B of his clients. At length Kuru managed to articulate, his words drawn and harsh as those of a choking man. “Father, father, the blood! the blood! To whom does it belong?” A look of infinite cunning overspread Moki’s face, and he spoke deliberately, noting with hawk-like intensity the effect of his words. “All bloods are red, my son. Some flows from the wood-pigeon, some from the wahine, and some from man. Do not inquire j deeply into such matters, for I see Hood*all around. Be content and wait;’ he said. Kuru shuddered, his eyes fixed upon the burning orbs of the tohunga, but words failed him. “The axe, the magic axe, I see it,’’ said Moki, pretending to gaze intently into the pool. Kuru looked, and there was the axe in all its beauty, twirling slowly over on a gradual descent until it finally disappeared from his view. So real was the phenomenon that he reached forth to grasp it. only being checked by its disappearance. Moki grasped the chief’s arm. “You come for advice concerning the axe,” he said. “Listen, my son, for if you mark well my words, it is yours. Raupipi travels by the northern route, skirting the base of the mountain. Take this reed and play it thus as he hastens home. It iff* the reed of the sainted Hinemoa who loved Raupipi, but disappeared before ho could induce her to wed him. When he hears its note#; he will penetrate the forest in search of her. Then strike swift and sure.” “And your reward?” inquired Kuru. The tohunga’s evil eyes glittered like points of fire. “Within the chief’s kaianga is the proud spitfire who scorned my love. Give her to me and the debt is paid.” Kuru promised and strode away. Another bright sky hung above the pah a few days later, but. ahf What is that mournful sound ? The lament for the dead is vibrating everywhere. The war-party has returned, bearing with it the body of the murdered chief, Raupipi. The cause of his death no man knows, but when found, his hand i grasped a broken reed, peculiar in shape, innd known to have belonged to Hinei moa, whom all men believed had been I consigned to the throat of Egmont by i taepo. By the body, his face, buried in the funeral mats, grovelled Rata with bloodshot eyes and burning brain. Never more would the cold clay walk with stately tread to the kaianga or teach the mourning lad the rudiments of savage warfare. In the mind of Rata formed a great resolve to exact iitu, even though it took the greatest part of his life to accomplish it. In Moki’s whare a solemn scene was being enacted. By a small wood-fire crouched the satanical form of the ancient tohunga, as he slowly poured a grevish powder upon the flames, while in the lurking shadows peered forth the gleaming orbs of Kuru. “It is solved! It is solved! I see it all!” suddenly screamed the tohunga, scattering the burning faggots as he rose. “The axe was never taken upon the journey. Had I consulted the smoke I would have known before. Raupipi became uneasy about the axe, and hid it, but subsequentlv informed his son of the hiding place. To him you must look for knowledge of the axe.” Kuru considered for awhile ere he spoke. “Father,” he said, “why not consult the emoke again, regarding the axe?” Although taken aback. Moki was equal to the occasion. Y ith solemn demeanour came his reply. “My son, Raupipi’s spirit, backed by all in the Spirit World, stand between to baffle me. Look! Look! They are all around! All around!” And frothing and gibbering, he fell clawing and beating the earthern floor.

The blood-stained murderer, with one awful shriek, fled from the whare as though pusued by demons. The tohunga sat up and chuckled. Raupipi was buried in the ancient grounds set apart for the dead, and Rata became a ward of the pah. Little did he know of the foul plans that were being formed against him. One morning as he sat polishing a mere the form of Kuru loomed in the doorway. “Son of Raupipi. I give you greeting” said the chief. The boy looked up', and cordially repliefl. The chief continued: “I am going to the mountain upon a hunting expedition. I hope to collect many pigeons. Will you come? The food will be carried by slaves, therefore we can devote all our time to sport.” Rata, who was very much like the white boy of to-day. loved sport, so he at once consented. Kuru’s heart beat with joy. for once within his power Kata would be tortured until he spoke. The chief shortly afterwards moved out with a retinue of slaves hearitig kumeras and fish. By his side, his eyes =parkliny merrily, strode Kata. His heart heat joyfully, for was he not a favorite of the preat chief‘Kuril? When the mishty bulk of the mountain loomed above them, thoughts oi

his father crept into the lad’s mind. No doubt that great peak had been the last spot touched by the spirit on its way to the .Spirit World. His reverie was harshly and cruelly broken by the heavy hand of Kuru, which fell with a strangle-hold upon his shoulder. “Where is the magic axe? Speak,” hissed the chief, and he dashed the gasping lad upon the ground. Although taken completely by surprise, the brave lad kept his wits. As he gazed into the glowing orbs above him. he knew that they were the eyes of his father’s murderer. Oh! How the realisation made the pulse of hatred throb within his brain. “I do not know where the axe is,” he said, and he endeavored to quell the quiver in his voice “Perhaps you will soon know,” hissed Kuru. Turning to a slave he bade him kindle a fire. Rata knew what was coming. The dreaded torture by fire was at hand. Well may the stoutest heart quail at such a time. When the glowing coals were ready, Rata’s feet were gradually drawn towards them by hempen cords. As the pain increased, the knotted veins stood upon the hoy’s brow, resembling whipcords, but no sound escaped his lips. Hp had resolved to die rather than reveal the hiding place of the axe. When the poor feet were almost cooked, Kuru desisted from the awful torture. His black heart was filled with rage, but his cunning brain forbade any fatal stroke. On his part. Rata knew his doom was sealed, whether he spoke or not. There was no escape for him, but he accepted liis fate with characteristic Maori stoicism. For four days Kuru persevered with all the tortures known to the diabolical savage, but. although the captive’s body was worn out. his spirit was as resolute as ever. Then the chief decided to play his trump card. “Rata, listen to me.” he said. “We go to the glowing crater of the mountain. Unless yon speak, your body goes to the taepo.” When the brave lad heard this, his heart quailed, for was it not known to all men that the taepo perpetually roasted his victims for all time? Still he refused to speak. In those days a bold spur had become , consolidated upon the mountain, somewhere in the neighborhood of Fantham’s Teak, and even when the mountain was pouring millions of tons -of lava down its gullies, the summit could he reached by way of this spur. When Kuru’s party, bearing the brave Rata, reached the summit, the great volcano was in a quiet mood, but deep down could be heard his rumbling voice. “Look! Rata.” said the chief, “do yon see the beautiful sea and the kumara patches? Is not the world fair? Take one last long look before you go.” Rata gazed into the implacable eyes, then a great, a magnificent inspiration burst upon him. The chief stood upon the very brink of the volcano. Suddenly, Rata’s face froze with horror. “Look! Look! The taepo? The taepo!” he screamed, pointing into the throat of Egmont. Kuru. poor superstitious fool, turned to look, whereupon the indomitable Rata, with superhuman strength, hurled him to his death. A« he went over, he tore the mat from the boy’s loins, but his doom was upon him. The awful shriek that rose from the depths blanched the faces of the hearers. The slaves dropped upon their knees, and with Rata, watched that awful end. The body, wafted as a feather, rose and descended in the vent, being supported by the fearful heat, then, as the awestruck natives gazed, it suddenly turned i to cremated dust, and blown above i their heads with a volume of inky smoke. So died Kuru. cowardly chief and murderer, while Rata was taken down to become his father’s successor. His two first acts were to unearth the magic axe, and to consign Moki to the ovens.