Rich Man's Coffin (22 page)

         
Escaping Robulla’s army would require a different approach altogether, Black Jack thought.
 
The conditions called for a little bit of the fox that Arthur proudly held in reserve, releasing it slyly from its bottle when life demanded.
 
And from that bottle, Black Jack assured himself, Robulla was going to drink a little of his own medicine:
 
A bit of guile, steeped in ruse, washed down with vengeance.

         
Black Jack hatched a plot there in the early dawn on the beach.
 
He would not ask directly for what he wanted like a child, Black Jack thought; rather, he would tell Robulla what the Chief needed.
 
Black Jack wanted to avoid a direct battle of wits with his cunning captor.
 
Without raising Robulla’s suspicion of ulterior motive, without giving the chief a chance to consider Black Jack’s change of heart; Black Jack would simply request that he be given command of his own battalion.
 
Yes
, he thought.
 
Why would the chief go out of his way to pay such attention to me if he was not grooming me for something big?

                                               
IX

         
“Today we stand down, my son.” said Robulla.
 
His warriors were wandering around the beach fixing things that had broken down in the heat of long battle.
 
Some looked over the small treasures they had pillaged, while others fished or just sat and smoked.
 
The bill of fair had reverted to seafood, much to Black Jack’s relief.
 
Eating copious fish and other sea life, Black Jack felt as though he were feeding another version of himself.
 
The simple creatures seemed to feed a part of his soul accustomed to similar things such as plants.
 
Just above that was meat eating. Beyond that was the unthinkable that he had actually performed, cannibalism.
 
Each food group now seemed to fit a different state of mind.
 
It was a hierarchy of peace correlating to his selection of diet, each level being a symbol of its corresponding set of behaviors.
 
Plant eaters forage for and grow only what they need and maintain a harmonious balance with their surroundings. Animal eaters hunt or domesticate their prey. Cannibals eat their own kind. Without some absurd manifesto, they are essentially devouring themselves directly without justification.
 
So Black Jack thought as the warriors’ smoke and Robulla’s words wafted past him and washed away in the waves.
You becoming a philosopher now?
He chided himself.

         
“But I thought that it was going to be a busy day today.”
 
Black Jack said.

         
“No, I lied.
 
I only wanted you to get your sleep.
 
Besides, I didn’t want you wandering off in the night.” Said Robulla.

         
“Well, what will we do today, then?” He recalled his plan.

         
“We will rest.
 
We deserve it.
 
You have done quite well, I must admit.
 
You have been a great help and a boost to morale overall.
 
I am quite pleased with our rapid progress.”

         
“Ah, so we are finished, then.”

         
“No, no, not quite my son. We have to cut and pack the backs.
 
All of these ribs have to be stacked in the boats under brine before they go bad. We only eat the perishables like brains and gall bladders out here for more energy.
 
We will continue south tomorrow.
 
Kaikoura is simply my favorite rest stop.
 
In fact, this is my best campaign in years.
 
Perhaps we will stay two days.”

         
Black Jack did not blink in the face of Robulla’s reality. He continued toward his plan. “So you think I am truly a good warrior then?”

         
“I told you I did.
 
I meant it.
 
For what little experience you have, you show exceptional natural ability.
 
A real killer instinct!”

         
“Do you think that I have what it takes to be a chief, then?”

         
“Wait a moment, now.
 
Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
 
In time, my son, in time.
 
Why do you ask?”

         
“Well, if not a chief, then your First Warrior, or some such position of authority.”

         
“There is no such thing as rank here.
 
There is me, and I tell everyone else what to do. A chief is not made, he makes himself through ruthlessness and aggression over other tribes.”

         
“But you were once a warrior, were you not?”

         
“Yes, but I became a chief by killing other chiefs and taking their tribes.”

         
“And so, that is how I am to become a chief?
 
Whom do I kill?
 
A chief of another tribe, or my own chief?”

         
“My son, you may kill whomever you choose. But hear this: Killing me would be foolish because of the awesome responsibility that you would assume.
 
Besides, you and I make such a great team!
 
Taking command of my tribes would make you vulnerable by putting you at direct odds to me.
 
Does that make sense?”

“That is not necessarily true.
 
You may need someone in command here to hold these northern posts while you carry on southward.
 
Don’t you think that you are overextending yourself?”

         
“Don’t tell me how to do my job!
 
When you think that you know better than me, then we will match our mere.
 
Until then, I say who lives or dies around here!

         
Closer, closer, you’re almost in my hands, old man
, thought Black Jack.

“Now, if you insist on playing a more important role in my operation, then I have a job for you.”
 
Black Jack watched the words tumble from Robulla’s mouth as a gambler watches his wanted cards turn from a deck. “You may return to Te Pukatea and hold the peace there, if you like.
 
You will be taken back by your own people. You are to tell them that I have put you in charge.
 
They will accept your rule, and obey you in good faith.”

         
“No!
 
I cannot travel that far north.
 
I am weak; and there is absolutely nothing there for me.
 
Besides, it is so close to the white man and his treachery.
 
I refuse.” Black Jack bit his lip and waited.

         
“Precisely.
 
I need you near the top of the South Island, right between the white man and my first village.
 
You will be like a piece in that game the white man plays when he does not have the courage for real war.
 
What do they call it, ‘Chess?’
 
You will be a knight.
 
Is that a high enough rank for you?”

         
“I don’t know.
 
I’ll have to think about it.”

         
“No, no.
 
It is not your choice.
 
You will leave today.
 
I will send a group of my best warriors with you in one of the smaller boats.
 
They will help to enforce your new position.
 
Now get ready!”

         
Black Jack took a bow inside as he feigned a pout.

         
Robulla seemed pleased.

                                                         
X

         
Black Jack’s soul was free.
Here I am, a black man born into slavery, and now I am telling captains and chiefs where to go!
He thought.
 
He was as stoked as a furnace fire.
 
His internal fire glowed in stark contrast to the foggy, cold pallor of the coastal valleys onshore.
 
New Zealand was painting one of its beautifully dismal days.
 
A solid ceiling of clouds hung low absorbing light and sound.
 
Like a toy soldier in a child’s fishbowl garden, Black Jack soaked in the mist rising from blanketed blue hills speckled with colored birds roosting in the overcast canopy.

         
His henchmen rowed.
 
Their powerful rhythm carried him all the way to Pukatea. He arrived just as night was falling.
 
He had gone an entire day without rest, food, or water. The tribe welcomed their new leader with respect.
 
They seemed oblivious to the throngs of seagulls perched upon a myriad of bones strung out along the coast.
 
He did not dig up the topic.

         
Black Jack’s optimism dueled with his dread, as he struggled to ask about Kumari.
 
He could barely wait through the wero. When the token was placed, he bounded for it and ran past the procession in search of his bride.
 
There was a new regime all around Pukatea. He had no idea the extent of the human devastation.
 
As he dashed from hut to hut, Robulla’s diplomats explained the situation and Black Jack’s new role to the scant, remaining villagers.
 
Finding none of Ruaoneone’s people present in the pa, Black Jack returned to the beach breathless.

         
One of the warriors spoke up. “The one you seek is not here.” He told Black Jack.

         
“And who are you to know what I seek?”

         
“The princess, Kumari.
 
She has gone.”

         
“And is she dead?”

         
“No.
 
We have word that she escaped with her new husband, Chief Pakauwera, to an inland pa.”

         
“Her husband? I am her husband.”

         
“No, you see, Pakauwera was Ruaoneone’s most senior advisor in the tribe.
 
He was in line to succeed Ruaoneone as Chief.
 
He had also declared his love for Kumari.
 
That is, before you arrived.”

         
Black Jack felt light-headed.
 
He vaguely remembered Pakauwera now.
 
“Go on.” he said.

         
The warrior continued, “When Ruaoneone granted her hand in marriage to you, Pakauwera felt extremely betrayed.
 
He held his tongue, but he silently swore revenge. That is how word traveled to us, and then to Robulla, about the ‘Fern Pounder’ comment. We are the Ngatirarua tribe now, as most of the Rangitane were wiped out.”

         
“So now she is married and living with this man you say.”

         
“Yes.
 
The Rangitane are now only the few who escaped Robulla’s wrath.
 
Word is that they are in hiding until their numbers grow strong again.”

         
Black Jack could only imagine how they were managing to increase their numbers.
 
He felt sickened by jealousy. His cute little plan to fool Robulla had failed, he thought. He was now among strangers having to rule them without his lover by his side. He prayed for strength.

         
The warrior continued,
 
“We have heard about your fierceness in battle, and your loyalty to Robulla.
 
We have heard much more recently about the ‘Black Giant’ who fights with the rage of ten men.
 
It will be an honor to serve you.”
 
The other warriors moved closer into the circle and hailed Black Jack with cheers of support.
 
The other villagers crowded around.