A BATTLE THAT RECEIVED A NAME BY ALLAN ARMSTONG

Illustrated by Dennis Knight-Turner In ancient Maoridom, battles were glorious not because of the numbers of foes killed but because of the quality of the foe. Battles were associated with the names of chiefs killed and those that killed them. If there was no chiefly name to connect the engagement with a tribal genealogy, then the battle was without a name. “It is war,’ said the chief Rangipakia, and his people stamped their feet and shouted “Ae! Tokia! Tokia! Tokia! It is war!” There had been an uneasy peace for many years between the people of the river and the people of the mountains. Now Rangipakia knew that peace would soon end for war seemed the only course open to him. A raiding party from the mountains had come down and ambushed one of his peaceful fishing parties. Now his people cried out for revenge! The stain had to be wiped out. And yet Rangipakia alone of all those present was not entirely carried away with the fervour of the moment. His heart filled with misgivings and he realised that the River People would be hard put to defeat their enemies. But there were no misgivings in the minds of the warriors. “Tokia!” they shouted. “Strike them down!” and the people roared their approval. Presently when one of the orators had finished, Rangipakia stood up again. “Our enemies are as numerous as leaves on the ground,” he said. “This will be a hard battle. We must call on all our kinfolk to aid us in avenging our honour.” The elders nodded wisely and raised their hands in assent. After the speeches were finished and the hakas had ended, messengers were chosen from amongst the men and each was ceremoniously presented with a broken taiaha as the symbol of war. Then they were sent out to the neighbouring sub-tribes to call them to arms and to give the time and place of assembly. Meanwhile there was much to be done and the whole pa became a hive of bustling activity and noisy sound. Many times a day the booming war gong and the brassy putara sent their ringing call over the marae and the blood of the men quickened as they sharpened their weapons and practised their war dance under Rangipakia's leadership and the critical eyes of the old men. Finally the messengers returned with the news that the sub-tribes had risen to the call of their kinsmen and were making their preparations. At this news the men practised their peruperu with even more energy than before. Several more days passed before at last the sentries gave warning of the approach of the first of the allied war parties. At this, all work stopped in the pa and the women and children hurried to the edge of the marae whilst the fighting men stripped for the war dance and quickly took up their positions kneeling in columns on the marae, each man gripping his weapon in his hand. The shrill chatter of the spectators stilled into an expectant hush as the visitors, led by their chief Te Whareporo, strode through the gates of the pa which had been thrown open to receive them. They came forward slowly and in perfect silence. Rangipakia knelt in front of his men and as the others neared the marae he made a quick movement with his hand and Harapaki, one of the younger warriors, stood up. He paused for a moment and then advanced with quick springy steps carrying in his left hand a rough spear made of manuka rod. This was the whakaara—the first of three challenge spears. The tail of the visiting