The Te KOOTI TRAIL

Otago Witness, Issue 3828, 26 July 1927, Page 62

The Te KOOTI TRAIL

A story of adventure

Frank H. Bodie.

By

FOREWORD. Much of this story is actual history that should be known to every New Zealander. The escape of Te Kooti and his companions from the Chatham Islands, the raid on Whakatane, and the story of Jean of the Mill, h!s wife and her sister Monika, all follow closely the actual course of events. Those who doubt this statement should read James Cowan’s splendid book, “ The Maori Wars.” the official history of those troubled times, to which work I am deeply indebted. Frank 11. Boule. CHAPTER I.—GATEWAY OF ADVENTURE. In the clear summer air of the Northumberland moorland, the prospect was wide and fair. The magic of the scene set the little clergyman afire with a loved enthusiasm. He swept off the soft flat hat and flung it from horizon to horizon, tracing with his gesture the undulating line of the great Roman Wall. “ To me it is the greatest monument in the world,” he said slowly, bareheaded to the drift of the mooriand wind. The small party with him. his daughter Alice, and Geoffrey and Eric Mantell. had often seen this Wall, but two of them at least caught a touch of their guide's enthusiasm.

“ It is not so long as the Great Chinese Wall, is it. father?” Alice remarked, as she secured a comfortable seat on the coping of what had once been the bastion 6f a Roman fort.

“ No, my dear, of course it is not : but bow much more it has meant,” the rector exclaimed. “It tells of the greatness of Rome—and in the same breath, proclaims its weakness. Tn this very fort where we are standing now. the men from every quarter of the Roman world took turn at guard. There were troops from Belgium and the Balkans, from Africa and Armenia. from Germany and Spain, rubbing shoulders with each other in this very spot.’’ ” Pretty mixed crowd, sir. To-dav we like them all of a breed. More cohesion in an emergency..” Eric Mantell, six feet one and broad in due proportion, commented as an expert. He was. in fact, a verv junior office-- of a famous hussar regiment.

“ That was an inevitable defect of the system of Imperial Rome.” The rector’s eyes took on a far-away look. “ For that very cause, it mav have been, they built this M all—a confession of weakness and ' impotence—instead of conquering rugged Caledonia, despite its savage tribes. And yet,” he took off his spectacles and wined them thoughtfully. “they were good troops, excellent troops.” He walked to the edge of the bastion and pointed down to a gap in the line of the Wall. " Did T ever tell yon of the Lost Legion—the Roman army that never returned ?” “No, sir.” Eric was intrigued bv the name. His brother Geoffrey, a year older, vet feature fop feature and in every inch of his frame, a twin bodv of his junior., sat down by the side of Alice. L”t T vt c:-ipc we fl all like to bear you tell of it.”

4ml ro uno.n that wind-blown s”-nmer’s afternoon of the year of grace 1858, to his fair-haired. Saxon-seeming audience, the little rector told the story, so far as he or anv man knew it. of one of the nveai tragedies of history— a tragedy that had had its genesis near where they stood, hut was acted f o unknown mJ some 1750 years earlier.

‘"The Highlands were in flames." he began, one arm .stretched out. over moor n-nd Ic.wHnd toward tlm far northern hills. “ The barbaric clansmen of the purple liiPs and mountain glens were mustering for battle, and the mutter of their advance •soopefl down over the Lowlands to th? Wall. The garrisons here wore doubled, find the famous Legion, then encamnofl nt York, was ordered to take the field and ni ell the rising.”

“ Row many men wore there in that legion?” Erie asked.

“It was probably at full strength, so that there would be more than GOOO mon. nil told, of all arms and ranks. They came joyfully np to the'Wall, eager for the adventure after months of the monotony of peace.” The vicar’s eyes kindled as ho visioned the sec m of which he '-poke. “It is entirely possible that they may have marched out through this gateway below us. for this was one f the groat sally ports of the Wall. Try to imagine the picture ns It may have appeared 171 centuries ago. Here in this fort would stand their commander and his staff, watching the short-kilted cohorts, four men abreast, swing through the opened gateway. Besides him would bo the standard-bearers. holding aloft the Eagles, symbol of Romo's power and prestige. As they passed through, company by company would raise or sword in salute of ■what those Eagles atoofl for. And high upon the Wall, the long, lined garrison, men of many lands, but all soldiers of

Rome, shouted messages of farewell and good hope. Can you *see it all?" “ Yes,” Alice and Eric whispered, eyes tightly shut as they strove o visualise the picture. Geoffrey, leaning back against the broken Wall, smiled a tolerant, superior smile. The thing was too distant to interest him.

“ They have marched through.” the little clergyman went on, his face flushed with excitement. “ See they have swung around, and in dense, packed lines face the bastion fort. The eyes of the commander light up—they make a gallant sight. The grizzled chief steps forward, and looks down on the serried ranks of fighters from the ends of the then known earth. Then he speaks to them. ‘ Men of the Ninth Legion,’ he calls in a great voice, ‘ we go into an unknown land against enemies of unknown number. Yet there is one thing we know -with utter certainty—a soldier of Rome never returns, save as victor. Forward, the Ninth Legion I’ ” The little man took a deep breath. “So they went, that Ninth Legion, Eagles upheld. and songs upon their lips, marching out into the unknown. There the story ends: I can call up no more pictures. What happened after, no man can say, for from that distant day to this there has been no word or sign of any man of that lost legion. Not one returned. No whisper of their fate filtered through to the anxious watchers on the Wall. They could not return as conquerors; in defeat no man struggled back—and the Scots never told.”

“ But surely,” Eric cried, all his soldier’s instinct roused, “ in all these years some trace of the disaster must have been discovered—some fort where the remnant made their last stand, or perhaps a few old weapons.” “ There has been no least sign of where or how they fought and fell,” the little man reiterated .solemnly. "The centuries have told us nothing. They marched out through the gateway of adventure there below us upon the last adventure of all —into the mists of oblivion. And yet, dying an unknown death, they achieved their object, for the rebellion simmered down, and Roman Britain was saved.* lie paused for a moment, then went on slowly. " So, it has seemed to me. in such unheard deeds of men of other lost and forgotten legions, empires have been, maybe are still, being built.”

There was a long silence, then Eric spoke, and there mis a significance in his word and manner of speech that did not escape' his elder brother. “ I am going out through that Gateway ot- Adventure —as those old Romans did. ' Will you come with me. Alice?”

‘‘Oh, let him go by himself. Alice.” Geoffrey spoke lazily, but there was a trace of strain in his voice also. ...The girl whom he had come to regard as his by right, as the eldest son of the manor, was growing far too interested in this recentlyreturned soldier brother. ‘‘Let him dream on by himself for a spell. He’ll soon be right again. The Rev. Horace Winslow looked, as be felt, distinctly displeased. out though far from being a worldly man, he could not be blind to the benefits of an alliance with the eldest son of Sir Raglan Mantell. He bit back his keen annoyance and decided to leave the decision entirely in the bands of his daughter. Like the others. Alice was of the fairhaired Saxon type. but shorter and slighter, with an easy grace of movement that had in if a suggestion of some blood of France. She stood between the two brothers, so very like to all outward seeming. vet so fundamentally different in reality, the one lounging back against the crumbling Roman Wall, the picture of easy assurance : the other erect, tense, pleading. She looked steadily first at one brother, then at the other, appraising each swiftly, while the little partv waited for her answer. Geoffrey’s attitude of indolent confidence, typified his position in life. Some day, the thought flashed through her brain, these lands and the great house in the valley would be his,, and bo and—sbe flushed as the thought crent in—his wife wwld live in nloasant ease. And Eric? He. too. tynified in his attitude, his position in life. He must go out thi-oim-h the Gateway of Adventure. to fight for a nlace of his own : perhaps, like one of the Lost Legion to a grave unknown on some nnrememhering frontier.

Gravely she studied the two brothers and her unhelping father, then stepped to Eric’s side and took his hand.

“ Let us go through the Gateway together,” she said soberly. The crisis bad come upon them so suddenly that now, when it had passed, they were still in the grip of the emotions it had roused. Tn silence, hand in hand the two seekers of adventure scrambled down the broken slope had once been a stairway, paused for a moment, then

walked down the narrow grassy path through the old Roman gateway. “ A pretty piece of symbolism,” the rector whispered, looking down on the two below.

Geoffrey grunted savagely. He was in a mood of black anger; his brain was intently busy with plans for a reversal of the girl’s decision. Below, the two marched silently on to a moorland crest overhanging the valley along which the feet of Rome’s vanished soldiers once had trod. There they stopped, and Eric, eyes shining, tried to speak the thoughts that had come crowding in upon him as they walked. "Im a poor hand at saying all that I think, dear,” he said 'very quietly, ‘ but I want you to believe that you have made rne very proud and very happy. Alice pressed the hand that still held hers. “ I think I understand, dear.” she answered happily, her eyes no less bright than his.

But there's more than gladness,” Eric went on, choosing his words with care. “A s we came through that gate together, I had the strongest feeling that a door was opening upon a new world ; that mv feet— and yours—were set upon a path that would take us into far and dangerous lands; that there were just such things ahead as those old Romans faced.”

Alice nodded. “It came to me, too,” she whispered. “ But when I felt your hand in mine.” Eric continued steadily, ” I knew that the end would be different—that at the last at the last there would be peace and honour—and you waiting for my return.” Alice nodded again. ‘‘That was how it seemed to me, too,’’ she said, in so low a voice that he had to stoop to hear. Eric squared his shoulders and swung round, face to the Wall. “ I will try to make that dream come true, little girl,” he said softly. And you?”

I will be waiting,” she answered briefly.

So, without word of love, but with perfect understanding, the two returned as they had set out, silent and hand in hand.

Afar in a land of forest and mountain, of black, torrent-seamed gorges and razor-edged divides, brown men of an ancient breed were muttering against the unkind Fate that had flung a swelling tide of land-hungry white aliens into their age-long isolation. Hot rebellion was rising in their hearts—even as it had done in Caledonia, when a Roman legion marched splendidly on to death. As they rode homeward. 1 lie's brain was busy with many thoughts, but among these was no inkling that his chosen path of adventure would travel into the most rugged portion of far Maoriland, upon a trail of vengeance, into battles and ambuscades of such a sort as smashed a legion of Imperial Rome.

CHAPTER lI.—THEFT. As was his unvarying custom, even when there were no guests at the Manor, Sir Raglan Mantell was dressed as for a reception. His clean-scraped chin pushed out through the small frontal nap in his absurdly high collar resting upon the carefully-folded front of his dark silk neckerchief. Though lie was a countrydweller and hated the grime and hurry of towns, his dark tweeds with their long, square-cut coat would have done no discredit to the veriest dandy of that metropolis where they bad been cut and sewn. Like his sons. Sir Raglan was tall and powerfully built, but with his bold, wide eyes and great beak of a nose, he looked, as he was, far more masterful than either.

It was the baronet’s habit of pleasant evenings to walk, gloved and cane in hand, upon the terrace before the old stone house. So was he strolling now, his cane under one arm, hands clasped behind his back.

“ He’s seeing altogether too much of her, the young fool,” he muttered as, with frowning brows, he marched slowly to and fro. “ Altogether too much. I shall speak to him at once.” A s it wore in response to his determination, Eric, too, strolled out on to the terrace. He was still in the grip of his vision of the afternoon before, and, after much mental wrestlin'’. had determb’ed to lay the whole position before his father.

" Can you spare me a few minutes, sir?” he asked, falling into step with soldierly ease. “ There's something I want to talk to you about.”

‘‘ Gad, by boy, that i s my desire, too, as the Psalmist—or, is it the Litany ?— says,” Sir Raglan answered gruffly, but not unkindly. “I’ve been thinking about you and you worry me. It can’t go on, or you’ll have me bv the heels with another turn of that confounded vout. You must stop it. d'ye hear me. That Winslow girl ” "It is about her that I wish to talk to you, sir,” the voting man interrupted. I want to marry her.” " More fool you. then.” the old man replied roughly. “ She’s not trot « penny piece—nor have you, beyond your pay and the small allowance I make you. Gad! Have yon no sense at ell’ You're a fine figure of a lad. though it’s vpur father says it. and. if you know your business, might have some rich man’s daughter making sheen's eves at v ” No' Hear me out. Your brother can take her —" I 11 not derv che’.s nrettv—if he's £~o] enough, for he’ll have the place, and the money goes with it. He can afford te be a fo-'l ! A’ou cn't. Dp sensible, lad, be sensible. There's plentv more of ’em. There’s that girl o’ Hampson, now. She’ll have £3OOO a year some day. and if you whistle her. she'll come to you, I’ve not a doubt.”

Eric's face whitened. He shook his head impatiently. “ You forget the difficulty that Alice and I love each other, sir.” He spoke evenly, though there was turmoil in his brain. " Tut I Tut

‘‘ And I have come to risk you to increase my allowance te £4OO a year, ’so

that we can marry. She has a small im come of her own, and if you will help, then we can manage.” ’ " I'll do no such thing," the old man shouted. “ For your own sake, I’ll do nq such thing. Preposterous, egad! I tell you you must marry a rich girl, and you can —if yon don’t play the fool. That girl o'- ”

"Look here, sir," Eric interrupted desperately. " I shall marry Alice Winslow or no one. Be clear on that. If you ■won t help me, then I must find some other way.”

“ Then, damme, find it.” q’] le o ]j baronet was thoroughly roused now. and in a forgetful zeal of indignation stampe 1 viciously upon the unyielding gravel. In consequence his tender foot sent a harried message of protest to his heated brain, and so increased his blind fury. “ Then, damme, find it,” he shouted again. " I'll hear no more of it, understand, and—what the devil do you want, Heyling?” In the heat of the discussion, Heyling, the stock bailiff of the estate, and Geoffrey Mantell, had approached, unnoticed until the bailiff s apologetic cough had interrupted the baronet.

" What the devil d'ye want now?" the angry old man repeated, when he had flung himself down upon a stone seat. " Go you, Eric, and think over what I've said."

" I’d like Master Eric to hear what I must tell ye, Sir Raglan, if so be its the same to yourself, sir.” the bailiff said deferentially. " Tis about him, sir, I have to speak, begging your pardon for intruding so untimely.”

Get it over, then, as quick as you can,” Sir Raglan ordered brusquely. “ I'm in no nioml to talk of him long, and the gout coming on again.”

“ Then I'll be short, sir, even it it can't be sweet," the bailiff began quickly. “Ye know, Sir Raglan, as how Quantrell ami Ellis and Ilyburn has been a little slow in paying their rents. This night I saw ’em again, and each one of ’em told mo as how they had paid their money to Master Eric here, no longer agono than last night. Here's the tally of it here on this paper, sir. One hiinTed an 'eightyseven pound all told.”

All the blood left Erie's face. He stared at the bailiff with unseeing eyes, as one overtaken in a trance.

“ And, begging your pardon again, Sir Raglan, this sort of thing can't go on.” the bailiff continued. “If he's to collect the rents, well an’ good. T ’ now where I he. But if I'm responsible, so to say. an’ he gets them. I can't k< op things straight, now can I, Sir Raglan?” “Did you take that money, sir?” The baronet’s voice was deadly cold as he turned to Erie.

Eric's eyes were blazing, though his face was as white as chalk. " Certainly not, sir," ho answered firmly, and glared at his accuser.

“ Begging your pardon, sir, the three tenants named swore solemn that at his request, they paid the money to Master Eric. They are positive co. lain it was him and no other. There's no chance they were mistook, for I taxed them very careful.”

" Gad I I never expected this. He said he'd find another way. Hold your tongue, sir.” the baronet exploded. "No! Answer inc this. What have you done with that money? Come, now. I'll not be trifled with. Where is it?” “ I have not touched the money." Eric answered hotly. " The whole thing is absurd. It is a wicked lie.”

“ Begging your pardon, Sir Raglan,” the bailiff spoke sombrely, “ the three men named is prepared to swear to it, such as they dislikes doing anything to damage Master Eric in vour eyes, sir."

"Is it in your room? ” the baronet demanded, pointing a shaking finger at his son. ‘‘ Don’t lie to me, boy,” he pleaded, with a sudden softening of manner. “Where is tlrat money?”

‘‘l tell you I know nothing at all about it,” Eric repeated angrily. The baronet rose shakily to his feet. " Geoffrey, do you and Heyling search his room at once.” he ordered. “ Waithere, Eric.” The old man relavsed into his seat. His head sunk down, and he groaned aloud. He was a proud man, and he could not believe that cue of his race should stoop to pettv theft. And yet There was a sharp crunching of the gravel, and the old man looked wearily up. The bailiff was running towards them, breathing heavily, while Geoffrey followed more leisurely behind him. “ Wc found it, sir,” the bailiff miffed excitedly. “ ’Twas in his bag. Here's the parcel. I'll count it.” The old man sat moodily on his st-ono seat, the bailiff's rent tallv half crumpled, in his left hand. As he visioned the scene in after days. Eric felt that it could not have been himself, but was some different person altogether who stood there, with folded arms, watching the fat fingers of the bailiff turn over the. notes. A puzzled look came over Heyling’s round face. He counted the notes again, and yet once more. “ One hun’red an’ ninety-seven pound.” he said at last. Counted thrice, and each time the same. T-hat's ten pound more nor the missing money, Sir Raglan.” The baronet straightened out the creased, paper in his hand, and stared at the row of figures. His brow darkened, ami he glowered at his son. “ You’ve made a mistake in your addition, Heyling. You’re ten iiounds out. Ellis’s rent is £77, Quantrell's £73. and Ryburn’s £47. The total should be £197. And yen found—how much?—in Master Eric's’’ room.”

“ One hun’red an ninety seven pounds, sir,’’ the bailiff repeated slowly. “ Tm sorry I made that mistake, sir.” “ It’s a very damning cue, I fear,” the baronet answered with deadly calm. " Thank you, Heyling. That will do. You

Love and Revenge.

can go—leave the money here; I’ll give you a receipt for it in the morning. You may go, too, Geoffrey.” He turned to Eric when they were alone, and now he was no longer the debonair tyrant, but a stricken, sad, old man. “ There’s no use in talking over this dirty business,” he said thickly. “ You took that money, and lied to me about it. If there were any chance, you should have it, but I see none at all. You are no longer my son ; you have no right to an honourable name. Get out! Go to the colonies or to the devil. And take the money you stole—yes, stole—to pay your passage. Keep quiet! I’ll hear no more lies. Aly God! That a son of mine—mine—should stoop to this. Be silent, 1 say. Take that money and go now, this moment. And if I hear that you stay in England, the officers shall be set upon you, cost what it may to my pride. Pick up the money and go this instant.” Mechanically and without understandanything of what he did, Eric picked up the heap of notes and stumbled down the Herrace steps into the darkness, his one clear thought that he must see Alice at once. On the gloom-filled terrace, an old bowed man held his lowered head between shaking hands, and sobbed with the rending sobs of a little child. A servant came out with a. message, but at the sound and sight, silently withdrew, his message untold. (To be continued.)