Baptism of Fire (17 page)

Hidden in a clearing some distance from the village, the three conspirators still whispered. You never knew who was listening, even here.

‘Hair in leaves.' Merelita mimed the entwining of a corrupt partnership.

Hannah listened with intense concentration to each detail. ‘Then what happens?'

Goggle-eyed, Joshua swivelled his eyes from one girl to the other, saying nothing.

‘Dig. In ground.'

‘Can you undo the bad magic?'

‘You must find hair. But not wait more than four days.'

Four days? It was already the third. Hannah watched her cousin anxiously.

Joshua whispered, his pupils wide and dark. ‘What if it's not
vakadraunikau?
' He looked young and vulnerable.

Hannah chewed her lower lip. Yes, what if
Uncle Henry was simply ill, no sorcery? They had no way of knowing, but his condition was rapidly worsening. Doing something was better than doing nothing, and it could be true. The only possible solution was to find the leaf-hair compound, if it existed. ‘So they mix the hair and the leaves together and bury it in the ground. Where in the ground?'

Making a digging motion with her hand, Merelita repeated her words. ‘Under.'

‘But where? In the village, at the beach?'

Merelita shook her head. ‘No one see. Big secret. Chief angry with man do
vakadraunikau
. Not tell.'

Hannah clasped her fingers and frowned. ‘How do we know who is doing this?'

A blank stare was answer enough.

All they had to do was find a compound which may or may not be hidden underground, but they didn't know where; put there by an unidentified person or persons; and they had a day and a half left in which to do it.

Hannah scanned the village
bures
, her eyes halting at the tallest.

‘Hannah … you can't just barge in!'

‘Why not?'

‘Because Ratu Rabete is the Chief.'

‘Watch me.'

He shook his head, ever so slightly.

‘It can't do any harm, and it may just help. Come on. We've got to try.'

All his protests dissolved under his cousin's determination.

Just as they reached their destination, a small group of men exited from the tiny doorway. Hannah and Joshua stood back and waited. A white man! Hannah stared in surprise. But no white man dressed native-style and wore his hair in such a tremendous bouffant. The man's skin was certainly pale, but there were faint brown blotches over his arms and chest. His features were not European but Fijian. His eyes were red-rimmed,
the lashes unnaturally white. He was not of white descent: he was an albino. Hannah had never seen a man like this, but her father had told her that he'd seen an albino woman once, in the town.

Ratu Rabete came out of the
bure
next, huddling down to get his bulk through the small door. He saw Hannah and Joshua but said nothing. The albino and Ratu Rabete talked, then leant forward and sniffed each other's necks. Hannah's eyes slid sideways to Joshua. With a restrained gesture, he mimed shaking a hand.

The albino man departed, his group of followers close behind. Ratu Rabete stood, arms folded, and watched till his visitors disappeared between the
bures
. His expression was enigmatic. Had the visitor been friend or foe? Friend, she surmised, as the albino had left with his skull intact, and Ratu Rabete had permitted his neck to be sniffed.

‘A
cava beka kon
cakava tiko?
' The Chief spoke without looking at the two Stantons.

Joshua replied in Fijian, then English for Hannah's sake. ‘He wants to know what we are doing. I said my cousin wished to speak private words with him.'

The Chief turned his liquid brown eyes in Hannah's direction. Her chin rose just a fraction.

Joshua interpreted once again. ‘He says you may speak because he is feeling … good today. His cousin brought him many expensive gifts.'

Was that a hint? What could she offer him?

‘He says if your words are only between you and him, then you may enter his
bure
, but usually it is not for women,' said Joshua.

She entered in trepidation, her brain feverishly working out what to say.

The inside of the house was much like the
bure
that Merelita had taken her to, except this one was much larger. A vast trunk, pots, lengths of cloth, a massive roll of sinnet, and a long musket leant against one wall. Ratu Rabete indicated that they should sit, and Hannah remembered to do so cross-legged.

A long silence stretched into awkwardness. ‘He says you can begin now,' said Joshua, his tone reflecting strain.

Afterwards, Hannah wondered how she had come up with all she'd said. Desperation had given her words.

‘Tell the Chief that I had it in mind to give him a marvellous gift, a painting. It was going to be a very big painting, with many colours, and I hoped he would wear his best necklace of whales' teeth to show how rich he was, and how poor the other minor chiefs were in comparison. It would have shown his wisdom and courage. Everyone in the village and beyond would have come to admire such a painting …'

A cunning look came into Ratu Rabete's eyes. He knew she wanted something. In one sense, time was wasting, but it would have been ill-mannered to launch straight into the point of a conversation: you sidled around it, teasing, touching on it, before finally easing into your real purpose.

Hannah sighed loudly for effect. ‘But now I cannot do this painting and I must offer an apology to the Chief.'

He played his own role perfectly and asked why, knowing all the while that she was waiting for him to do so.

‘There has been a thief at work …'

Eyes hardening, Ratu Rabete sat a little
straighter, his attention secured. He demanded to know who this thief was. Theft was not permitted among his people, he said.

‘Unfortunately, we don't know who this person is. He is very clever, working in secret so no one can detect him.'

Ratu Rabete interrupted. He could find this person if he wished. Nothing in the village remained secret for long. He was Chief. What happened among his people was not hidden from him. He wanted to know what had been stolen.

‘Something very important, that cannot be replaced … my uncle's life.'

A hint of surprise registered in those dark eyes.

‘Someone is, by magic, trying to drain away my uncle's soul. He is getting weaker every day. You saw him only this morning, and this afternoon—he is worse.'

Ratu Rabete did not immediately reply. He played with his toes like a child who was idly passing time. But there was nothing idle nor childlike in the look he shot at Hannah. He said that as Reverend Stanton was a missionary, he did not believe in
vakadraunikau
.

She asked him if he thought it were possible that such things could be effective without the faith of the victim. Could
vakadraunikau
be stronger than a man's mind?

The Chief's reply, when it came, showed a shrewd knowledge of people. He thought that not many things would be stronger than Reverend Stanton.

Finally, the Chief told them to return early on the next morning, and he would see if anything could be done.

Any delay was frustrating. The next day would be the fourth. But if they wanted Ratu Rabete's help, they had to comply.

Feeling as though all the sand in the world had collected in her eyes, Hannah strode along the path, with Joshua close behind. There had been little rest for anyone in the mission household the night before. Uncle Henry was extremely weak: he refused to eat, taking only paltry sips of liquid.

Aunt Constance had insisted on remaining with him all night. Most of that time had been spent in entreating the Lord not to take her husband. Whether that husband would approve of forcing the Almighty's hand like that, instead of simply asking for strength to accept what he had decreed, was debatable. But in Hannah's opinion, after all these millenniums, the Lord clearly had plenty of company, why did he need to remove people so prematurely?

Sounds of activity came from the village. No one seemed to sleep late here: not the animals, the people, nor the birds and, this morning, not even the wind. It tugged at the brim of Hannah's straw
hat and noisily flapped the palm fronds above them.

At the village, the people had assembled in the open area between the
bures
, where war preparation had occurred not so long ago. This was a battle of a different kind.

Ratu Rabete stood at the head of the crowd, sounding forth in loud tones. Mutely, they stared back. He saw the two Stantons and called them over with an impatient wave of his left hand. All eyes were on them. Hannah could see several faces that she recognised: thin Beni, Luata, Merelita, who smiled shyly; Ralula of turtle hunting fame; Enoke; and the Priest, who carried a large axe over his right shoulder.

‘The Chief says he has spoken to his people and no one knows anything. But one person refused to answer his questions so …' Joshua made an impatient sound. ‘I don't know how to say it … mmm … he will test the only suspect.'

All sorts of images were conjured up by this remark, most of them unpleasant. She hoped the appearance of the axe was coincidental. ‘What do you mean
test?
'

Joshua declined to answer as Ratu Rabete had resumed speaking. The Chief signalled Enoke to approach. Enoke replied in a deep voice. Hannah thought she would faint, the rushing sound in her ears a warning. She steadied herself, breathing deeply and slowly until the mist in her eyes cleared. Enoke speaking? Hannah shot a glance at Merelita. Did she know about this?

Joshua's words to her that very first day came flooding back. ‘
He doesn't speak either, only whistles to show what he wants. The villagers say the next time he speaks it will be to announcé the death of his nephew's murderer
.'

The morning she had taken her first English class, the Chief had told her
Enoke's nephew was killed because he was a Christian
. Enoke certainly had no affection for Uncle Henry, his baleful glares were sufficient evidence of that. Hannah searched for Merelita's face but couldn't see her. How would she feel if her intended husband was the one who was killing Uncle Henry?

Ratu Rabete gave an order. Joshua explained what was happening. ‘He has called for the headdress for catching the souls of rogues.' A gauze
scarf was produced. Enoke came forward: disdainful, arrogant. In a way, Hannah admired his unbending pride.

The Chief waved the headdress over Enoke's head. Joshua whispered, ‘He should confess now.'

Enoke said nothing. The crowd murmured, but Enoke still said nothing. Ratu Rabete wafted the fine material once more, then folded it and walked away. ‘He's captured Enoke's soul in the headdress,' said Joshua.

‘Come on.' Hannah, Joshua, and the other onlookers followed the Chief, agog with curiosity. They spilled onto the beach where the wind whipped sand into faces, stung bare legs. The water was much higher than usual. A fleet of outriggers were propped on the sand, well clear of the fidgeting waves. No fishermen had ventured out today. Ratu Rabete strode to a large outrigger, which was actually two canoes with a platform over the top: an armchair was strapped to it. It was obviously his personal craft. He gave an order, holding out the precious bundle of gauze and soul. A man took it, nailed it to the outrigger, then a cluster of men surrounded the outrigger and
strained to lift it.

‘Enoke must go out in the canoe. If he won't confess he will sink and gradually die. If he confesses, the soul is released and he lives.'

In this wind, he was likely to sink anyway. Grey clouds whipped across the sky, and eventually Enoke called out.

The Chief held up his hand. Instantly, the men responded and placed the outrigger back on the sand.

‘Did he confess?' Hannah could scarcely stand still.

‘Enoke swears he's innocent. Ratu Rabete says that he doesn't want to waste a good outrigger in this weather.' Joshua turned a disappointed face to his cousin. ‘Enoke would have confessed by now if it was him. They always do. They're afraid
not
to. Thieves may as well confess—there's nowhere to hide, and they're afraid they'll lose their souls.'

The gauze headdress was unhooked from the outrigger and Enoke's soul returned. But what of Uncle Henry's?