2

THE PLOT

Kākā were screeching in the stand of kahikatea trees bordering the swamp as Te Kawenga set off back home, wondering what was causing the commotion. The south-westerly had picked up overnight, and rain clouds scudded through the early morning light. Perhaps a flock of karoro had sought refuge inland to the dismay of the resentful parrots. Through the cacophony, a voice was calling out to her. Kakati was sprinting up the track behind her.

‘Wait up. I’ve got something to tell you,’ she panted, sliding her tahā to the ground.

‘Let me guess. Paritū has asked you to go eeling with him today?’

‘He did indeed, but that’s not it. I overheard them last night talking about the kareao. I was right.’

‘About what?’

‘They’re using it to build a massive trap at Pūponga.’

‘What for?’

‘I couldn’t tell but obviously to catch something. Is your father back?’

‘Not yet, but Whae was cagey when I asked about him.’

‘Very funny!’

The girls were chatting happily on their way home when a sudden flash of red filled the sky overhead as the kākā flew off and a party of toa crossed the path. Te Kawenga recognised a cousin from Te Pane o Mataaoho. It had been months since her people had visited their relatives at the southern mountain pā whose villages fanned out to the shores of the harbour. He raised his eyebrows in greeting as the body of men pressed on up to the tūāhu, the ceremonial altar shaped from huge basalt boulders.

‘Why do you think they’re here?’ Kakati whispered.

‘No idea, but I sure would like to find out.’ Grinning, Te Kawenga pointed to the lava shelf shaded by ngaio shrubs to the east of the altar.

‘No way. I’m out of here.’

‘Wait for me outside your place,’ Te Kawenga insisted. Scrambling into the undergrowth, she crept cautiously on all fours to avoid discovery.

Concealed behind the rocks, Te Kawenga recognised the voice of the tohunga, Te Tumu. In solemn tones, he accepted the visiting party’s offerings from the food stores of the ocean god, Tangaroa.

‘Esteemed kinsmen, I am heartened by your presence here today,’ Te Tumu declared. ‘The success of our venture will be revealed by the divinations. Behold the miromiro.’

Te Kawenga had to restrain herself from standing to take a peek at the tiny caged bird.

‘The death of our Te Uri o Pou relatives must be avenged,’ intoned Te Tumu, releasing the latch on the cage. ‘Our protector taniwha, Haumia, the all powerful, has spoken to me. He will entice the pride of the tribes of Tīkapa Moana o Hauraki into our waters. It is there that our mana, the mana of Ngā Oho, will be restored. We, the peoples of Tāmaki, must act as one.’

As the chanting of karakia commenced, Te Kawenga knew her whānau would be wondering where she was. Holding her breath, she tiptoed back to the path, reaching the settlement as the miromiro came flapping at speed from the direction of the tūāhu.

*

‘Battle plans are afoot. They’re preparing to attack Hauraki,’ Te Kawenga blurted out as she raced up to Kakati, who was leaning anxiously against the mānuka fence surrounding her whare.

‘What a load of rubbish! I told you they’re building a trap at Pūponga. To catch what, I’m not sure.’

‘Well, then it’s something that Haumia has to lure there. Do you think they have the blessing of Te Arikinui?’

‘Hard to tell. But I’ve an idea how we can find out what Te Tumu is up to. Why don’t we catch up later?’

‘Okay, ka pai. I’ll see you at sunset at the karaka grove,’ Te Kawenga whispered, heading home.

‘So where exactly have you been?’ her grandmother called out as Te Kawenga opened the gate. ‘We’re dying of thirst.’

‘You’re in charge of your brother and sister today,’ her mother instructed, brushing past her as she set off to the garden plot. ‘Make sure to complete your kete weaving.’

The children spent the day playing with their friends, spinning tops, tossing darts and chasing each other around the clearing at the edge of the scrubland. Te Kawenga found a sheltered spot beneath a tōtara tree where she could weave and supervise from a safe distance. She pondered the morning’s events. Already at twelve years of age, Te Kawenga resented being excluded from the adult world of decision making. When trouble flared, she had seen how everyone in the pā was affected. Better to be prepared for what might lie over the horizon. Her father, Kahotea, would surely explain what was going on at Pūponga. She just needed to visit him.

*

When her mother finally trudged home from her mahi, Te Kawenga had her meal laid out – fresh kahawai her uncle had delivered that afternoon and yams roasted in the ashes. The younger tamariki had been fed and Kui was resting.

‘How heavy my heart will be when some lucky fellow takes you as his wife,’ Whiu lamented. ‘The back post of our whare will be gone.’

‘Piri and Rangiaho will take over my jobs.’

‘Indeed, but still your husband will be truly blessed with such a hard worker.’

‘Can I travel with Kakati tomorrow to Pūponga and visit Matua? I miss him and I could help with the cooking.’

‘Why does Kakati have to go there?’ her mother quizzed.

‘She has an urgent message to deliver,’ Te Kawenga lied. ‘We’ll be back by Ōtāne in four moons’ time. I promise. Her brother Te Waru is coming too. The others can go to the spring while I’m away.’

A period of silence followed while Whiu carefully picked through her fish, removing the flesh from the bones. ‘All right,’ she finally announced. ‘But you must go directly to Onehunga and only paddle along the channel if the waters are calm. Bring us back some tuangi. The cockles are fat on that coastline.’

‘Of course I will. As many as I can carry. I’ll get rid of the food scraps now,’ Te Kawenga said. It was a convenient excuse as she took off to meet Kakati.

On the western horizon, the forested ranges of Te Wao Nui a Tiriwa were silhouetted by rātā-coloured skies. Chirping crickets competed with the singing of tūī and korimako for the evening’s attention. Te Kawenga took a shortcut through the interior of the pā, following the sturdy upper palisade dug below the rim of the crater, Te Ipu a Mataaoho. She knew the karaka grove on the eastern flanks would be deserted. The fruit had been harvested well before the rising of Matariki, and the residence of Te Tumu, off limits to all, was located on the ridge above. She spied her older cousin propped up on the low-lying branch of a pūriri tree that bordered the orchard. Poking a twig delicately into a small opening in the trunk, Kakati did not notice her arrival.

‘Any luck?’ Te Kawenga called out cheerfully.

‘Not a grub in sight. Mind you, I don’t have my tahā to flush one out.’

‘Then you are leaving a tasty treat for ruru. You know owls love to devour the moth when it eventually appears.’

‘Poor Pepe tuna, emerging only to glimpse the world of light, never to be embraced by it.’

‘They should have chosen you to learn at the wharekura, not that useless brother of yours. Anyway, you’ll be pleased to know that Whaea has agreed. I can accompany you and Te Waru to Pūponga!’ Te Kawenga boasted.

‘So now my stupid brother is joining us! What a talent you have for twisting the truth. Well then, we shall leave after our morning chores. Be sure to wear your rain cape and fasten your taupaki with a strong belt. Don’t forget to put a tahā, a knife and some dried kūmara into your backpack to snack on. I’ll meet you at Te Arataki Haere.’

‘See you tomorrow. Sleep well.’ Te Kawenga smiled, hurrying home before her mother started to worry.

‘Āe, hei āpōpō.’