The Head Of Te Rangihouhiri.

New Zealand Illustrated Magazine, 1 February 1905, Page 364

The Head Of Te Rangihouhiri.

By J. COWAN.

EAVY rain poured down on the reed roof of the wharepuni, and the sound of the surf on the sandy shore half-a-mile away came with a roar on the wings of a north-east gale. The marangai was blowing — a wind always associated on the Bay of Plenty coast with overmuch rain and

dirty " weather. But within the tribal meeting-house we were in warm and cosy quarters, and when the evening prayers were over and the people of the little hapu gathered with us round the fire for a long night's korero, we blessed our hosts for their hospitality — one of the primal virtues of the Maori. And pipes came out, and tales and songs went round. Our surroundings were in weird harmony with the strange stories we listened to that night. There was no litzlit but the glowing fire, which, however, was bright enough to illuminate the gaily-painted rafters, scrolled in ancient native patterns, and the carved figures that stood round the walls, each with its diabolical lolling tongue, painted red, and its huge glistening eyes inlaid with pawa-shell. At the foot of -the central housepillar was the carven effigy of the tribal founder, with his scornful lips and tattooed fiace, grinning and balefully glaring in the flickering of the fire. Stowed along the walls were two or three guns, a taiaha, and other wooden weapons of the past. In a corner a couple of little

girls were rehearsing the swing of the poi-balls, in time to a softlychanted dance-lilt. And with minds attuned thereby to thoughts that were Maori, we heard old Manihera tell with excited mien and gesture of the wiles of Njgaiterangi's wizard, who held sway over the powers of darkness, and not only makutu'd the tribal enemies, but had even bewitched a football-ground, so that a team of young men from a neighbouring district were woefully beaten when they foolishly ventured to play on it against the medicineman's hapu. Tattooed, saturnine Hakopa arose, and sang a quavering waiata and told of the brave deeds of his departed comrade-in-arms, Te Pokiha, ally of the white man and foremost in a battle-charge, whose o-rave was in the village-square. Then came legends of ancientry, of the days when the Arawa doublecanoe made land-fall here from the South Seas. But of all these " tales of the times of old," none equalled in " thrill " and Homericaction a narrative that came from the lips of a woman, the young and handsome chieftainess, Rongo-Ka-hira. When there came a pause in the old men's reminiscences, and the children were humming out the haunting air of the interminable poi, the lustrous-eyed Sibyl compelled attention with uplifted arm and dramatic gesture, and told the story of " The Head of Rangihouhiri> " Whakarongo mai ! Listen to me, pakehas, for this is no korero-

tara, no child's fable. It is a true story of our tribe, of a woman whose hate was as strong as her love, whose words and whose beauty nerved men to deeds of valour.

"' More than three hundred years ago there lived in this village— the most ancient kainga of our tribe — a beautiful girl o f high birth, whose name was Tu-parahaki. She was a celebrated puhi (virgin), oroteoted by the law of tapu, and her name went through all the land. As she grew up she was sought in marriage by a young Uhief of the Waitaha, named Tukuiehe. Him she loved, and with great ceremony they became man and wife. Here begins my story. r l hey had been married but a little while when war burst upon the tribe. From the eastward came a wandering band of warriors, the fugitive tribe To Rangihouhiri, commanded by a bold and masterful Chief, whose name was also Te Ranyrihouhiri. They made an attack on Maketu pa, which then, as now, stood on its green and shady hill, and was surrounded by strong lines of palisading. The battle raged fiercely round the walls of the fortified village ; and many deeds of bravery were seen on either side. The owners of Maketu were overpowered, and for the time beingdispossessed, and fled inland to recruit their forces for a great battle with the invaders. Placing' his trust in their words o f peace, Tukutehe ventured amongst his enemies ; but the Chief, Te Rangihouhiri, treacherously killed him.

" When the news; of Tukutehe's murder reached Tuparahaki, the young wife was wild with grief. She lacerated her arms and breasts with sharp flakes of obsidian, and her tear* fell as unceasingly as the haumaringiringi, the dewy rain which Rangi weeps down from the sky upon his severed earth-wife Papa. For days and months she sat in her lonely whare, speaking little, but ever grieving, ever brooding. For two years she remained in her sad widowhood, and she dried her tears

in the thoughts of revenge. For her blood was that of a warrior race, and hatred of her husband's slayer possessed her. " Tuparahaki was still but a girl, and the fame ol her rank and beauty brought many young chiefs from other parts of the Island — from the Ngapuhi country, from Kawhia and Waikato, from Taupo, from the East Cape. One after another they sought her to wife, but she refused them all. iShe stood up in the crowded Council-hall one night, when many visitors from distant tribes were present, and announced that she would not marry any man save he who brought her the head of Te Rangihouhiri. '' ' Who is Te Rangihouhiri, and how shall we know him ?' asked a chief from Waikato. " In reply, Tuparahaki told once more the tale of Tuku tone's death, and described Te Rangihouhiri and his method of fighting. He was a tall and savage warrior, exceedingly powerful and skilled in the use of the two-handed wooden sword. Should there be a battle, he would not engage in the combat at the first, but would hold back until the struggle was at its height, and the warriors were in the thick of a furious hand- to-hand encounter. Then he would rush forth, laying about him with terrific sweeps of his weapon, and cut a lane through his enemies, hewing them from his path as if they had been so many stalks of korari — the flower-stems of the flax. When that dread fig-ure joined the fray, 'twas indeed the Rangihouhiri. Many a man had lost his own head in rashly attempting to shift that of the grim warrior of many battles. " The terror of Te Rangihouhiri' s name abated the ardour of many of Tuparahaki' s wooers. The tribe from the east still harrassed the lands of Tapuika and Wait aha around Maketu. At last the tribes, calling; to their aid the Lakeland Arawas and others, made a combined attempt to expel the invaders.

" Amongst the warriors from afar who came to the call of the Tapuika and Waitaha, burning to distinguish themselves, was a young' Chief, named Kaihamu, from Kawhia Harbour. He was the son of Mango (the shark), a rangatira of the Ngati-toa (Tribe of Heroes). When he beheld the mournful face of the beautiful young 1 girl Tuparahaki, his heart straightway went out to her, and being- made aware of the conditions upon which he could win her, he resolved to take; Rangihouhiri's head, or fall on the field of battle. He learned all he could of the enemy's Chieftain, and his manner of fighting, so that he could mark his man in the midst of the combat. " A great battle soon followed, on the ferny hills that slope down to the white sands of the sweepingbay. Te "Rangihouhiri and his tribe left their entrenchments and f ought boldly in the open. Spear clashed on spear, and stone axes in the hands of wild, naked men smote through skulls and severed limbs ; and with loud battle-cries the chiefs incited their warriors. The lines of struggling, fighting men swayed now this way, now that. It was desperate work, and each man fought for his own hand. " Kaihamu stood apart, waiting for the slayer of Tuparahaki's husband. At last, when the roar of the battle was loudest, and dead and wounded strewed the field, Te Rangihouhiri appeared. A tall and powerful tattooed warrior, greyhaired, but athletic as his youngest follower, he leaped into the thick of the fight. Anana ! A very toa ! Like a whirlwind he rushed through his foes, smiting them down right and left with herculean blows of his two-handed sword—just like korari stalks, as Tuparahaki had described. Right through his adversaries he rushed, then turned and smiting with gigantic blows he clove his way back again. " Then he met Kaihamu. Aue ! Never was there a fight like that.

Kaihamu was armed with a taiaha, of akeake wood, and with this he parried the sounding blows that Rangihouhiri showered upon him. But the older man's terrible work had wearied his mighty arm. Warily Kaihamu fought— then, with a sudden lightning-stroke, he felled his foeman to the ground. The next moment he ran the tongue-shaped point of his taiaha through the old warrior's throat — and that was the last of Te Rangihouhiri." When the narrative reached the " sticking-point/' the old man Hakopa could sit still no longer. Seizing a taiaha from the wall, he leaped at an imaginary enemy, and with actions of indescribable fierceness, went th rou uli every movement of the duel— thrust and parry and death-stroke— in rather inconvenient proximity to our heads. Then he sat down, and with burning eyes fixed on the story-teller's face, said, " Tena " — "' Go on." " Kaihamu, unnoticed by his fellows, took the dead man's sharpedged greenstone mere from his belt (it had once been Tukutehe's) and with it cut off his head. He stripped the body of the short mat of white dog-skin which was one of Te Rangihouhiri's most envied possessions. The head, the mere, and the mat he wrapped up in a flax cloak taken from the field, and then watched the progress of the fight. " The tribe of the dead Rangihouhiri were defeated, and loud were the songs of triumph that greeted the warriors of Tanuika and Waitaha and their allies when they returned to the palisaded village of TuparahaH. In the hall of meeting they gathered that nio'ht, and before the Chieftain-ess san^ their proud waiata and pioi, and recited their battle-deeds. Tt was known that Te Rangihouhiri had fallen, but by whose hand ? " One after another the warriors who had slain a foeman rushed up brandishinp- a ghastly head. For many of them were strangers, and knew not the appearance of Te

Rangihouhiri. Up and down they rushed, gripping their trophies by ]ong and blood-matted hair, but the lady made no sign. " At last out bounded Kaihamu, the young- and brave. His eyes flashed with living lire, his head was decked with the snowy feathers of the toroa (the albatross), his handsome face covered with the symmetrical lines of blue tattoo ; red war-paint on his cheeks. '' He looked, indeed, a hero. Leaping like a deer clown the centre of the great whare, he stopped short) in front of Tuoarahaki, and suddenly drew from under his mat a beautiful L'retnstone mere, and waved it round his head. "' ' Ka-tahi !' exclaimed Tuparaliaki, when her glistening eyes recognised the weapon. ' That's one token. Go on.' " Bounding from side to side in leaps of fantastic exultation, the young chief went down the room. When he returned, he had a rolledup garment in his hand. This he unfolded and threw round his shoulders. It was the doo--skin mat. il ' Ka-rua ! r said the lady. ' That's two. Tena !* " With a cry of delight and an astonishing leap, and whirling his mere round his head, the warrior taki'd back to the end of the room. Returning with a high-peal-ing yell of triumph, he flourished in front of the lady the severed head of a crey -haired, tattooed man. " ' Ae'l 'Tis Te Rangihouhiri !' cried the wide-eyed Tuparahaki. ' No more will the wairua of Tukutehe come before me in the nu>ht

and cry for utu, for his blood. Tiu kutehe is avenged — and you are my husband !'

"'So Kaihamu won' his love. Great were the rejoicings of the tribes, for they had gained a noble warrior ; and the mournful face of their chief-lady no longer silently reproached them. But Tuparahaki stayed not in the country of the Arawas. Kaihamu' s people became her people, and his land her home. Kaihamu returned first to his Kainga on the shores of Kawhia, to prepare a ritting reception and home for his wife. And then she followed with her retainers, halting only at those places on the way which Kaihamu had karakia'd and made sacred as resting-places for her. And grand indeed was the loud powhiri of greeting which the people of the great stockaded pa at Powewe, high above the shining waters of Kawhia moana chanted as the Ariki lady of Maketu approached— the manuhiri-taurangi (stranger from beyond the sky !).

" Haere-tnai ! Haere-e-e Mai ! Welcome hither, lovely stranger ; 'Twas our dearest son that brought thee, Brought thee from the eastern seashore, From the bounds of earth and heaven, From the very distant places. Welcome — welcome fco our home ! "

" So the younu' warrior and his well-loved wife lived and died at Kawbia, in the land of the Ngatito?. But their children returned to MaVetu— and one of their descendants is Roneo-kahira, who tells you this story."