Rich Man's Coffin (23 page)

         
Here I am again
, Black Jack thought,
the reluctant hero
.
 
His heart ached for Kumari, but he put on a brave face.
 
He knew that any plan of action must begin with biding his time here until the right moment.
 
Fate, he soon found, had oddly tossed him a conciliatory bone. As he looked around the crowd, he saw her, the woman from the grog shop.
 
She had moved south with her tribe after Robulla’s raid.

         
She came to him now. With a look, he knew that she would suffice as solace during this painful and poignant period spent pining for his preferred princess.

Chapter 15

Arthur pushed his chair back from the dinner table and looked around.
 
He wondered if he should finish his story in front of the Judge's children.
 
The Judge perceived his concerns and pointed them out of the room.
 
The three children departed obediently for bed.

         
"I wasn't sure if I should continue.
 
I am becoming quite personal with my tale.
 
It is probably boring you senseless.
 
I shall go."

         
The Judge's wife entered the room with a pot of tea and poured her husband a cup.
 
"I didn't miss anything, did I?
 
Black Jack, cup of tea?"

         
The Judge motioned for her to sit down. "No, no, Black Jack -- I mean
Arpur
-- was just about to continue.
 
Please go on.
 
I have the day off tomorrow, right dear?"
 
He moved his face into the light of the oil lamp, illuminating his eyes.

         
Black Jack said, "Those years were not my own.
 
I felt as if I were someone beside myself.
 
My mate was a small comfort to me.
 
I pretended to love her, yet all the while, my heart yearned for Kumari.
 
I thought about her constantly.
 
My pain did not subside.
 
It merely dried and crusted like a wound.
 
A thin scab had formed on my soul. I shielded it well, hiding it from anyone who might start my heart bleeding once again for all to see.”

         
"To my credit, I did run the tribe quite well.
 
I buried myself in the business of being Robulla's authority. The villagers respected me.
 
It was only a phantom existence though.
 
I was like a ghost walking through life without really touching or feeling anyone or anything.
 
I told myself that it was a part of growing up.
 
As long as I went through the motions of day-to-day living, then everything would be all right. Work would get me through, I told myself.
 
That is how I survived.

         
"Ironically, my reputation was that of a vicious warrior. Everyone feared me.
 
Inside, I was a broken man. I tried and convicted myself of crimes that I had been talked into committing.
 
I was a ball of confusion and resentment, yearning for vengeance.
 
It was my struggle with those evil desires that eventually broke my will completely, and set me on a course that would go beyond my hatred for Robulla. Strangely, I hoped that it would set each of us free from our spiritual bondage.

         
"In the meantime, I came to be known by a name which I forbid anyone to use.
 
Sadly, I had earned the name through my own actions.
 
I heard them in distant circles calling me
Bloody Jack
.
 
It was meant as a Maori compliment, God bless them, but it dogged me like a stain.
 
It was one more cheetah's spot on the thin and tainted skin that I had come to wear.
 
I decided to make the best of my self-imposed sentence and take advantage of my ruthless reputation.
 
As a reformed cannibal, I began a campaign to win my peoples’ affections: Not craving their hearts in a literal sense, but turning them against Robulla.
 
It was a valiant and simple plan."

                                                         
II

         
One night after a tribal wedding banquet, Black Jack posed a question to everyone. "Did you enjoy our little celebration meal?"
 
There was a unanimous and positive response from the villagers. "Good!
 
That is Robulla you are eating."
 
Everyone gagged and gasped.
 
"I am only joking.
 
Ask yourselves this though:
 
What if I weren't?"
 
People resumed talking, visibly agitated.
 
Soon they settled back into the festive mood of the evening and moved onto other topics. But Black Jack knew that they were all digesting his suggestion, even if they had not taken the time to completely chew its ramifications.
     

         
For days following, Black Jack fielded questions from all walks of the tribe.
 
Some such as the elders asked about his stunt. Others waited until an opportunity arose to beg his pardon and ask if he minded explaining his intentions.
 
Questions ranged from whether he actually wanted to defeat and eat Robulla, to whether or not he was feeling well.

         
None of the guesses hit the intended target. Black Jack had not expected them to get it right the first time.
 
If it was that easy, they’d figure it out themselves
, he thought.
 
One day after many weeks had passed without mention of the incident, a young boy brought up the subject out of the blue.
 
While preparing for her wedding, the youngster's sister had jested with him about 'eating Robulla' at the ceremony. The comment had disturbed the young boy.
 
Even at the age of seven, he was very familiar with who Robulla was.

         
He walked up to Black Jack during an elder's meeting and asked, "Are we going to eat Robulla?"

         
Black Jack tenderly asked the child, "And what makes you so concerned about this, young warrior?"
 
By this time, the boy's mother had approached to retrieve him.

         
The child responded, "Because my sister is getting married and she says that we are going to eat Robulla."
 
The shock of the boy's naïve audacity caused his mother to gasp in embarrassment, and this reaction drew the attention of many more onlookers.
 
They focused on what their chief had to say.
 

         
Black Jack said in a serious tone, "No, my son, we are not going to eat Robulla."
 
The crowd that had gathered now seemed to expel a sigh of relief.
 
Then Black Jack's face lit up.
 
He said smugly, "Well then, we shall eat your sister instead!"
 
The crowd reacted in horror at his words and welcomed the fleeing boy into their arms.
 
They stared in disbelief at Black Jack.

         
One man spoke up, "Why do you torment the little boy, my Chief?"

         
Black Jack responded confidently, “Drastic times call for drastic measures."

         
The man shot back, "Perhaps I might understand if I knew your point. I don't understand why you must make it by using a child's innocence."

         
Black Jack replied, "If the simplest arguments cannot be made with the simplest people, then they do not hold much water. Wouldn’t you agree?"

         
The man reluctantly nodded. He asked, "But why all of this talk about eating people?
 
Are you trying to tell us something?"

         
"I am not trying to show you anything that is not already right before your face."

         
"Is it about our eating flesh?
 
Do they not do that where you come from?
 
It is our tradition.
 
It is a very sacred one, which has much spiritual meaning.
 
We do not expect you to fully understand."

         
Black Jack said, "A spiritual tradition.
 
That is fine.
 
Then what will you eat when there are no more bodies? Where will the spirits live then?"

         
"Why does it concern you so?
 
It is not as though we are eating our own people, as you seem to suggest.
 
We eat those slain in battle.
 
It is an honorable thing."

         
"Ah, but are not all tribes under one people, the Maori?
 
If you were vast in number like the Pakeha, perhaps then you would have the luxury of eating all of the people that you desired.
 
But you know that the Maori are dwindling.
 
Believe me, I know this.
 
The white men are great in number, and they will come here.
 
Most importantly, they don't eat their own kind, nor will they eat you.
 
But, you can rest assured that they may kill plenty of you, just as they killed the red man."

         
"That is well and fine; but like I say, it is our tradition.
 
It is the way we have always done it.
 
We don't expect you to understand it."

         
"I understand that it is a reckless and dangerous tradition.
 
I can think of nothing else that threatens the survival of your people more.
 
Killing is one thing.
 
But killing and eating?
 
That seems to me to only further fuel your lust for blood.
 
And you say that you are not eating your own tribe.
 
Well with such small numbers of Maori left, if neighbors are eating neighbors, then why not eat yourselves?
 
Go ahead and take the next step!
 
All traditions have a beginning:
 
Go ahead and start your own!"

         
The man and the villagers looked at Black Jack with disgust, pity, confusion, and awe.
 
Most thought that he had gone mad.
 
The subject was not broached again for some time, although many secretly discussed the issue among close friends.
 
For some, the question was as simple as
why does a bird fly
or
why does the sun rise?
 
For others, the question seemed similar to asking,
why does a green branch symbolize a peaceful visit?
 
The open debate sparked healthy controversy within the village without undermining Black Jack's authority and the trust of his people. He continued to enjoy a peaceful reign over the tribe. The people were understandably confused, though, how someone that they knew as
Bloody Jack
could question their sacred cannibalism.

                                                         
III

         
Months passed and a new year came.
 
January brought one more Summer and a bittersweet anniversary.
 
He reflected fondly on Lalani and the child that would be grown into a small child by now. Black Jack lamented his broken promise.
 
He mourned the fact he might never know his child’s birthday.
 
His partner here had not conceived. He had not wanted her to, because he did not lover her in that respect.
 
He still longed for Kumari.
 
His burning love for her drove his thoughts and actions everyday, and that gave him the will to carry out his plan.

         
Life within the pa had settled into a peaceful routine. For a time, there were no marauding Maori or wayward white whalers.
 
Te Pukatea remained tranquil and serene, and everyone seemed happy.
 
Regardless, restlessness about Robulla’s possible return remained.