II

Te Ao Hou, December 1960, Page 22

II Next morning the village was awake as the first grey streaks of dawn were in the sky. The white smoke from the fires twisted up into the still air as the women busied themselves cooking a meal and the warriors made themselves ready. After eating, the men took their weapons and gathered on the marae for the grand finale of the war dance. All the war parties squatted together in a column five abreast. Suddenly Rangipakia bounded to the front and gave a short call. On the last word the whole body rose to its feet as one man and the dance began. The stamping feet were quiet and almost lazy at first but gradually the beat increased in intensity. Each man held a weapon in his right hand and beat his bare thigh with his left, the whole sounding like the beating of a huge drum. The thunderous chorus reverberated back and forth and the sweat-soaked earth seemed to rumble and quake beneath the frenzied feet of the warriors as if mighty Rauumoko the earthquake god had risen and himself joined in the dance. Then with a great shout that went to the heavens, the dance was finished. A roar of farewell rose from the throats of the people as the men strode off without a backward glance. It was over a day's march to the territory of the mountain people and the war party wasted no time as they moved over the narrow bush tracks. Rangipakia led the way, for although the allied tribes were under their own chiefs, the whole party came under Rangipakia's leadership. Very soon the sounds of the waterfall close to the pa faded to a subdued rumble against the greenery which rose from either side of the path like a green wall. Overhead, the tui called and to Rangipakia it seemed to chant a prayer over and over again. “Tuia! Tuia! Tuia mai tatou—Bind! Bind! Bind! us together!” He begged Tu that it would be so for he knew that his men were much fewer in numbers than the mountain dwellers. Victory would not come easily, but honour must be avenged. His men lacked nothing in courage and training. That night the tohunga selected a camping spot by driving his tupou into the ground. A hurried meal was eaten, sentries posted and then the party slept. The next morning the men rubbed their naked bodies with fat and oil to make themselves slippery and hard to hold when they came to grips

with the enemy. Only the principal fighting men and those of high rank wore the war belt and the dog skin war cloak. Then the tohunga performed a short ritual over the weapons to give them greater killing powers, and strengthened and fortified the war party set off again. About mid-morning they reached the foot hills. The bush was stunted here and it was possible to see a considerable distance ahead. Then as the river people crossed a ridge, they saw a great host drawn up on the plateau above them. The foe had got news of their coming and were so confident of their superiority that they had left their fortified pa and come to meet them on open ground! With a roar, the attackers surged forward until they were a mere thousand yards from the mountain people. There they pulled up and closed their ranks and warily watched the furious haka of their enemy. Then in reply the river people gave their dance with every ounce of energy of which they were capable. When this was finished, Rangipakia threw off his cloak and stepped from the ranks and strode out across no man's land and stopped when he was half way between his own force and those opposite. In a high clear voice he challenged a member of the other side to single combat. It was the custom. There was a stir in the ranks of the mountain people and a hefty warrior came out and stopped just short of Rangipakia. The chief of the mountain people was old and had sent out instead one of his younger and tried warriors which was permissible. Rangipakia danced at his opponent, his taiaha held vertically. The opposing armies watched with deep interest but remained where they were without movement. The chief watched his adversary's big toes. Feint blows came from the elbows and for them the feet did not need a firm grip. Striking blows however flowed from the shoulders and then the toes flexed and gripped the ground. Rangipakia saw the danger sign and deftly parried a deadly blow then suddenly he turned his staff to the upright position, crossing his hands as he did so and lowering the blade to the left, seemingly leaving his head and chest unprotected. With a low cry the enemy lunged forward and struck a vicous right-handed blow to the chief's apparently unprotected head. It was a trick! The blade of Rangipakia's taiaha rose like a flash, and turned the enemy's blade off to the right whilst at the same time its point ripped into the man's stomach sinking deep and splashing the chief with a sudden spurt of blood. A great cry went up from the opposing armies and as if a spell was suddenly broken they lunged together with a fierce roar and clashed in conflict. All afternoon the bloody battle raged, the long line of men at times coming to grips fighting hand to hand with patu and mere and other times separating and hurling spears. They thrust forward and

fell back like a huge writhing serpent. As the sun started to go down behind the peaks, the mountain people pushed forward time and again and drove a wedge deep into the ranks of the river people who started to fall in ever increasing numbers beneath the superior weight of those who opposed them. Gradually the gallant war bands of Rangipakia and allies gave way and soon it developed into a running battle as the line broke and fled. Back, back fell the river people fighting furiously but unable to stem the inexorable rushes of their enemies. Even when they reached the forest there was no refuge from the pursuing enemy. The rear guards fought stubbornly on the narrow bush tracks so that the main body could make good their escape. None fought more gallantly than Rangipakia and his son Toheriri until suddenly a spear pierced the chief's leg and he collapsed with the weapon protruding from the other side. With one wrench, Toheriri broke off the tip and pulled the shaft from his father's leg. Rangipakia's face twisted with pain but he said nothing. Whilst the rest of the rear guard forged a barrier in front of the enemy, Toheriri and another man picked up the chief and together they supported him along the track. The going was slow and before long shouts from their rear told them that their pursuers had broken through. “Stop!” commanded Rangipakia. “Leave me here in this thicket beside the path. Return when all is clear by night and take me back to my people that I may fight again.” Toheriri hesitated a moment, then as his father made an impatient gesture, he and his companion turned and ran down the track whilst Rangipakia dragged himself into the bush and lay still, watching the path through a small chink in the thick curtain of greenery. Seconds later the mountain people swept down the track and from the cries and yells further down, Rangipakia guessed that more fighting was going on. Then these sounds died away and there was only the evening songs of the birds and, amongst them, the call of the tui which seemed to cry mockingly now … “Tuia! Tuia! Tuia! mai tatou—Bind! Bind! Bind us together!” At these words Rangipakia thought of the defeat to his tribe and the pain in his leg seemed to inflame into fresh life. The twilight was short and night soon fell. The forest slept but Rangipakia did not. He waited for his rescuers but no one came. After a pain-racked night, dawn broke. As the light and sunshine streamed through the trees turning the dew to wisps of steam and dappling the greenery with patchwork, there was no lightness in Rangipakia's heart nor warmth in his body. Again he heard the derisive call of the tuia … “Tuia! Tuia! Tuia mai tatou!”