7

CAPTIVES

There were at least a hundred workers on the beach and no sign of Kahotea among the throng. A gigantic trap was positioned at the high-tide mark, the warps woven from kareao and mangemange, with a huge funnel to guide its prey into the snare. To the roof was attached a large pātaka adorned with fragrant grasses. It had no front wall, revealing an array of fish and seafood delicacies arranged in kono. Painstakingly, the men fastened harakeke ropes to the sides of the trap and wound the other ends tightly around the trunks of pōhutukawa trees. The girls recognised relatives from the pā who were too preoccupied to bother about a couple of dishevelled new arrivals.

‘Incredible. Look at the size of that thing,’ Kakati exclaimed.

‘Exactly why it’s too late to do anything.’

‘What if we cut the ropes?’

‘Are you out of your mind?’ Te Kawenga shrugged, rolling her eyes.

‘Look, there’s your father.’

‘Finally, I can get a feed. A tasty tītī or some kererū.’

‘More likely some bracken root when he finds out why we’re here,’ Kakati muttered as they set off along the forest track ringing the beach.

Kahotea was seated on the ground, intently grinding his adze on a wetted sandstone.

‘Tēnā koe, Matua,’ Te Kawenga called.

Kahotea released the toki and leapt up excitedly to hongi his daughter as she emerged from the bush. ‘Kia ora, e te tamāhine. What a surprise. How is your mother? Did she send you to me? How did you get here?’

‘She’s tired from working in the gardens. Āe mārika, she knows we have come here to see you, but—’

Te Kawenga was interrupted by the trumpeting of the pūtatara. Te Tarata strode to the centre of the beach, signalling the workers to assemble in front of their colossal creation.

‘Can we go somewhere to talk?’ Te Kawenga insisted.

Kahotea glanced nervously at the crowd of men who had fallen silent as their leader stepped forward to address them. Herding each girl by the shoulder, he ushered them behind a stand of kauri.

‘I hope this is important,’ he muttered. ‘I need to get back and listen.’

Te Kawenga recounted their visit to Te Matapuare and the island, conveniently omitting their escape from Te Tumu. Her father’s face froze in disbelief as the details unfolded.

‘You must do something, Matua. Do you realise this trap is meant to kill Ureia? Te Tumu is putting our people in danger!’

‘Enough!’ Kahotea seethed. ‘Foolish, naive girls. Have you no respect for our leaders?’

‘You can’t kill Ureia. What has the sacred protector of Hauraki ever done to harm us?’

‘Be quiet right now! Your ignorance astounds me. You have no right to challenge tribal decisions,’ Kahotea hissed. ‘Come with me to the kāuta. You can work there until I return you to your mothers. And if you dare to disobey me …’

The girls scuffed the dirt, stewing as they were marched back to the camp.

*

The trap had by now been carried into the water, and the pātaka alone was visible floating on the surface. Sentries on the hilltop above relayed messages to those on the shore. The smoke signals visible from Te Motu a Hiaroa forewarned of the imminent arrival of Ureia the next day.

Kahotea threw some mussel shells and a chert blade knife next to a pile of fish waiting to be scaled and gutted. ‘Get to it,’ he ordered, ‘while I go and explain your presence to Te Tarata.’

‘Why did I imagine Matua would listen to us?’ Te Kawenga moaned, pulling the guts out of an oily mullet and dumping it into a tōtara bark basket.

‘We are going to stink by the time we’ve finished this lot,’ Kakati grumbled.

In the clearing behind them, women were tending the cooking fires. A boy their age wandered down with an offering of smoked eel then set off in search of firewood. As the day wore on, there was no sign of Kahotea. Te Kawenga felt her stomach begin to churn as she imagined the arrival of the unsuspecting taniwha.

‘No one dares question Te Tumu,’ she groaned.

‘Maybe your father values his life – and yours too,’ countered Kakati. ‘But if you are determined to die like the hammerhead, you could still sabotage their plan …’

Her voice trailed off as the boy reappeared with large roughly woven kete and instructions for cooking the fish. It was nearing sunset when their work was finally done and the evening meal had been served up to the workers. Kahotea returned, his solemn manner a clear signal that he was still angry. He ate slowly then led the girls to his raupō hut up the valley with strict instructions that they were to stay put until he came to fetch them.

‘Do not, under any circumstances, come down to the beach.’ Kahotea glared at them. ‘The tapu will be placed upon the toa this evening, and the area will be off limits. Have I made myself clear?’ The girls nodded frantically and crawled into the dim whare.

As his footsteps grew faint, Kakati pulled a knife out from her pīkau.

‘If you are serious, use this to weaken the ropes holding the trap to the tree trunks.’

Panic gripped Te Kawenga. This was not how she had imagined things unfolding. If she defied her father, she would be banished from the pā – or worse. Paralysed with fear, she sat in the dark, head bowed, unable to speak. An uncomfortable silence hung in the whare, broken eventually by the sound of claws scratching the roof, followed by a familiar hoot.

Hugging her cousin strenuously, Kakati suddenly grabbed her shoulders and pushed her through the doorway. A flurry of wings guided them to a forest track, the path lit up by silver ponga fronds strewn along the ground.

‘I’m too scared to go in the bush,’ Te Kawenga stammered.

‘Listen! I can hear the stream. This path must lead to the beach. It can’t be far.’

‘What about the patupaiarehe?’

‘Stop worrying. The fires will be keeping those spirit people away. Now just concentrate on where you are putting your feet,’ Kakati directed, ‘or you’ll trip on the tree roots.’

‘I can’t hear the ruru. Let’s stop for a moment to see where she is.’

‘No, keep moving. Can’t you smell the smoke?’

Sparks were flying through the darkness from bonfires blazing high on the beach. Stretching out from either side of the bay, long ropes anchored the trap to the land. Blanketed by shadow, the girls edged closer.

‘Quick. Kneel down behind these nīkau,’ whispered Kakati. She pulled the knife from her belt.

‘Why are you handing me that?’ Te Kawenga squirmed.

‘Look where the guards are.’

‘I can only see a few by the ropes over the far side.’

‘Exactly. The rest of the men are standing up by the fires. Now’s your chance,’ she said, placing the knife handle in Kakati’s palm. ‘Follow the track down to the pōhutukawa. They won’t spot you.’

‘Why me?’ Te Kawenga protested. Trembling, she pulled herself up and grasped the knife, when, out of the blue, two snarling dogs came careering towards them.

‘Run!’ yelled Kakati.

Sprinting up the path, the cousins managed to haul themselves onto the buttress roots of a pukatea. The dogs paced around the tree, barking incessantly, and it wasn’t long before three guards appeared and called the dogs off.

‘Explain yourselves,’ they ordered as the girls slid back down.

‘Just got a bit lost after washing in the stream,’ Kakati mumbled.

‘We were trying to find our way back to my father’s sleeping hut,’ Te Kawenga ventured.

‘Whatever. Now move it,’ came the angry response. They were marched back to the camp, and Kahotea was summoned.

‘I thought I told you to stay put,’ he fumed. ‘Take them to the cliff-top lookout and tie them to the posts,’ Kahotea instructed the guards.

‘Anā tō kai. You had this coming, you wilful girls. Come tomorrow, I will decide your fate.’