A cloaked figure appeared at the doorway. “Mother!” Scev cried, running toward her.
Aan remained sitting, the tears still on her face. She didn't know what to do.
The woman swooped Scev up, hugging him. Min came to join Aan, similarly uncertain. They watched the reunion.
Then the woman swung her gaze around to cover them. “You took my baby!” she exclaimed.
Aan, speechless for the moment, could only nod.
Scev wriggled to be put down. Scil set him on the ground. “Do you have any idea what it is like to lose your son?” she demanded angrily.
Scev, frightened by the tone, retreated.
Aan found her voice. “Yes.” The tears began to flow again.
Scil paused. “Oh, yes. I forgot. But that doesn't mean you can take mine.”
There was so much to say, but Aan found herself unable to utter any of it. Instead it was Min who spoke. “Your brother made a deal—to get me my brother. He brought him here.”
“He had no right!” Scil flared.
Scev, frightened anew, went to Min for solace. The girl hugged him close. Min looked at Aan. Then her own tears started. “I guess he didn't,” she said. “We thought he did.”
Aan put her arm around Min.
“When I came home and found my child gone—” Scil said.
Scev began to cry. The ball fell from his hand, bounced, and rolled across the floor.
“Oh, my darling, I'm not angry at you!” Scil said to him, all her hardness and hurt disappearing. “You never did anything wrong. I have come to take you home. Come here.”
But the boy turned to Min, burying his face in her robe.
Scil stared at him. Then her eyes took in the group of them: Aan with her arm around Min, Min with her arms around Scev, and the boy remaining with them, clearly of his own volition. All of them crying.
Then Scil's own eyes started flowing. “So close—in one day,” she said. “And you got him a ball. What can I do?”
They couldn't answer her. They just waited.
Scil shook her head. “I wanted to be with him, so he would not be mistreated. But I think he is better off here than where I am going. Only—”
They still waited. It was her decision to make, and they could not oppose her.
“Only, may I visit him sometimes?”
“Oh, yes!” Min exclaimed, and Aan nodded.
Thus simply was it settled. Scil turned away.
“Mother!” Scev cried, disengaging. Min let him go. He ran to Scil and hugged her tearfully. Then she turned him around to face the others. “Fetch your ball,” she said, and withdrew. By the time he had the ball, she was gone.
“She is still very angry,” Min said wisely, “but not at us.”
“At her brother, perhaps,” Aan said. “Because he is marrying her to a man who doesn't want her child.”
“So Scev will be happier with us,” Min said.
“Yes. Scil may be a cynical, calculating woman, but she loves him. When she saw that we could love him too, she had to let him go.”
“But what will she do to her brother?” Min asked.
Aan shook her head. “We don't want to know.”
Huu was glad it was almost over. They had finally walked the real Hotu statue to its stone platform, and set its white stone eyes with their round dark pupils into its eye sockets. They had placed the huge red topknot on its flat head. It was a singularly impressive monument, awing all who gazed upon it. Now all that remained was the ceremony of invocation, and then it would be done and Huu could go home to his wife and daughter. And son.
It began at sunset. A great fire was made before the statue, and a captured seabird was sacrificed on a stone altar. Then the elder long-ear men marched around it in their feather bonnets, and young short-ear women stepped out of their clothing and danced naked in the firelight, their arms uplifted over their heads. The rest sat around, the long ears in one crescent, the short ears in another, watching. The priests performed their rituals, dedicating the statue and invoking the spirit of Hotu Matua as a god who would hereafter look out for the welfare of the entire island.
“Hello,” someone murmured beside him. Huu looked, and found the dancer Scil standing naked. It was an intermission for the dancers, and she must have sought him out.
“Your son is with us,” he said. “Your brother brought him.”
“I know. My new husband prefers it that way.”
“You aren't angry?”
“;I am angry,” she said. “But not at you. You value your son. I saw Scev there. Now he has a sister.”
“Min. She is adopted too. We love her.”
“Yes. I saw.”
“You saw?” he asked, startled, belatedly realizing what this meant. “You saw my family?”
“I went there to take back my child. But in one day they had already won him over. Your daughter is not your blood, but you treat her as your own. She will be a dancer.”
“Yes. Min is special.” Huu was nervous in retrospect about this woman meeting his family; she could have done much harm. But it seemed she hadn't.
“So I left him there. My anger is not toward your family.”
“I am glad of that. I could not expel my wife.”
“I understand that, now. She is a good woman. She will love my son as her own.”
“Yes.” But he wasn't sure that the matter was done. “What is your situation?”
“I showed my new husband two ways I could be,” she said grimly. “One he liked very well. The other he liked not at all. I told him the price of the way he liked. He agreed to do my bidding.”
Huu could imagine how different she could be, when she chose. She was a beautiful woman, but she had a hard edge. She no longer had to fear the possible abuse of her son, so there was little hold on her. He was still nervous about what she might do. “We honored our deal. Our man will support your brother.”
“So my man will cast the deciding vote,” she said. “Which I now control.” Yet there was an odd stress on her statement. Then her tone shifted. “Your wife gave my boy a ball. She said I could visit him.”
That surprised him again. He did not think that Aan would want any contact with Scil, or any chance that the woman might steal back her child. He was sorry again that he had not been able to be there. But the task of moving the statue had been steady, and his part vital.
Then it was time to name the new short-ear chief. The three judges stepped up to the altar and named their choices. The first, who was speaking for the long-ear preference, named Baa. The second named another candidate. The third, who had just married Scil, named—the other candidate.
There was a hush of amazement, for the people knew about the marriage and the reason for it. Had the man reneged? Baa looked stunned, then furious. But then Scil stepped up, still as gloriously naked as the other dancers, and linked her arm through her husband's. She was supporting his choice.
“What is this?” Baa demanded.
“You took my child,” she replied, staring him down.
And that was it. He had taken her child, to make her available for this, and she had instead turned her new husband against him. The man had done her bidding. She had lost what she most valued, so she had denied her brother what he most desired. There was nothing he could do about it.
Baa stalked away. Now everyone knew how his ploy had failed. He had sought callously to use his sister's child for his own advancement, and paid a price. He had lost not only the position, but his reputation, for Scil had made a fool of him.
Yet Huu knew that she could almost as readily have made a fool of Huu himself, and cost him dearly, had her anger been directed at him or his family. She had gone to his home. Had she taken a knife to Aan—
He aborted that thought. Scil's anger could justifiably have been directed against him, because he had made the deal with her brother. But he had in effect offered what no one else could: a loving family for the child. That was what had saved him. Because Scil di
d love her son.
Was Easter Island colonized from South America? Legends of both the island and the continent can be interpreted to suggest that this was the case, and the presence of cultivated South American plants such as the sweet potato, the bottle gourd, the manioc, and the totora reeds from which they made their boats confirms that some contact occurred. There was also the giant palm, which grows on the coast of Chile and nowhere else—except Easter Island, before it and the other trees were destroyed by man there. One of those giant trunks seems to have been used as an anchoring post for ropes, to prevent statues from sliding down the slope from the quarry too rapidly. The presence of a written language, as yet undeciphered, in the island also suggests an origin on the continent, where legend speaks of a similar lost script. The appearance and blood group of the long ears may also associate with South America. There are representations of sailing craft, and one type of house emulated those same ships.
But there was also colonization from the Polynesian islands, because their racial type is also present, as the short ears. They brought bananas and chickens, but not much of their culture. One legend indicates that they served as slaves for two hundred years, then revolted and largely destroyed the long-ear power. At that point all work on the statues stopped, leaving hundreds still in the quarry. The subsequent island history was violent, with constant warfare decimating the population, and all the standing statues were eventually toppled. Later still slave ships abducted many islanders, and when some slaves were returned, they brought smallpox, which wiped out most of the rest. Catholic missionaries sought to stamp out all pagan evidences, so that invaluable wood carvings and tablets with writing were destroyed, leaving no one able to read those few that were salvaged. Could Polynesian origins account for all of the original colonization and culture of the island, except for chance vegetation carried by birds or sea currents?
Today Easter Island is faring better, as a tourist attraction, with many of the statues restored. But the debate continues whether there was any non-Polynesian colonization. What, for example, accounts for its lack of pottery, as there is a strong ceramic tradition in South America? What about its lack of sophisticated textiles of the type found on the continent? There was clay on the island for pottery, and fibers for textiles. Would they have brought sophisticated stoneworking technology, without similarly useful ceramics and weaving?
The picture on the west coast of South America is just as confused. Circa A.D. 1100 was between empires, and references seem to contradict each other. So it was difficult to establish exactly who was where, and harder to judge who might have sent the second mission to Easter Island. There isn't any credible historical evidence for such voyages. Yet there is similar statuary, and legends did correctly identify the location of Easter Island, suggesting that ships had not only gone there, but had returned, despite adverse currents. But there are Polynesian legends too, and certainly the ancient Polynesians had the sea traveling expertise to reach Easter Island.
What of the white-skinned, goateed, red-haired folk who became the long ears of the island? Continental legends have them arriving by reed boats from the north, bringing civilization with them. They taught the natives how to do things, then sailed away into the Pacific. Can this be believed? If so, where did they come from? Conjectures abound, but can become wild, such as tracing a group from Mesopotamia around Africa to Central America, across Panama, and down the coast, bringing their reed boat and stone carving technology with them. Yet part of the reason the Inca Empire fell was that the Incas took the Spaniards for these returning god figures. White skins and red hair don't generate in the tropics. Perhaps tissue typing will offer insights, in due course. Preliminary results suggest that the type is Basque, which may indicate that the legends of white men with ships stemmed from recent experience. Certainly the Basques ranged the Pacific in the sixteenth century, and if contacts with them were attributed to earlier times, that might be the explanation. The mysterious pictographic writing might also be a more recent invention, emulating the European scripts. Even the manner the statues were moved is in question; Thor Heyerdahl demonstrated that they could have been walked, but that may have been only for short distances, because the volcanic tuff wore down rapidly. They may have been hauled most of the distance on sledges, or even on tracks and rollers. And the red headstones and inset eyes may have been later innovations, not used at the time of this setting. So every part of it can be questioned, and the background of the settings seem to be cobbled together with spit and string, but the essence is intact: impressive works were accomplished by supposed primitives.
Overall, the mystery remains, with the apostles of the various theories seemingly more interested in supporting their chosen sides and discrediting rivals’ claims than in the truth. But there is one lesson to be learned from Easter Island, regardless: a habitat with limited resources may not be wastefully exploited indefinitely, lest disaster strike. There will be more on that in the Author's Note.
CHAPTER 16
* * *
MISTAKE
In A.D. 1218 in central Asia, east of the Aral Sea, the region of Transoxania ("land across the Oxus” River, later the Amu Darya River) was the border between two rapidly growing empires. To the west was Kwarizm, a Moslem state; to the east, Mongolia, a shamanistic culture that viewed the great religions of the world with tolerance as long as they presented no political threat. The Shah of Kwarizm, Muhammad, had largely consolidated his holdings; the khan of Mongolia, Genghis, was then in the process of conquering China, and preferred not to seek further quarrels elsewhere at the moment. The khan made a point of learning about the countries beyond his borders, and knew that Kwarizm was larger and richer than Mongolia, and could mobilize larger armies in this region, because of Mongolia's diversion to the east. Prudence seemed best. So he proposed that there be peace, with the river Jaxartes (later called the Syr Darya) as the boundary between them. He sent envoys with rich gifts to the Shah, with the friendly message that the khan would look upon the Shah as his son—that is, fondly.
Unfortunately, there was a slight misunderstanding that led to complications.
TRY this, Scevo,” Huu said, setting the instrument down before his four-year-old son. “You are good on drums; this is better.”
“A dulcimer!” Miin exclaimed, delighted. “Where did you get it, Father?”
“There was a barbarian at the bazaar who did not know its value,” Huu said. “It was so cheap I had to have it.”
“He probably got it from plunder,” Ana said ominously.
“Don't be concerned; I wiped the blood off it.”
Ana gave him a dark look and returned to the kitchen section, where she and the servant girl were preparing the afternoon meal. She was probably right; when rare quality artifacts appeared in the bazaar, they often derived from plunder. Soldiers and cavalrymen snatched whatever looked interesting, then dumped it for what prices they could get. The merchants cheated them shamelessly, but perhaps it was only fair, as they had probably killed the prior owners. The spoils of war were the main reason to join a military force, and lucky and unscrupulous mercenaries could do very well for themselves, if they survived. But Huu could not blame Ana for disliking this aspect.
“Where are the sticks?” Miin asked.
“He must have lost them,” Huu said. “A barbarian wouldn't even recognize this as a musical instrument. I'll make a set.” He got to work, quickly carving two fine wood beaters. Such was the force of habit that he looked warily around before starting the carving, and then faced a wall while doing it, so as to conceal the use of his left hand for the knife. His family knew all about his bad-handedness, of course, but he could never afford to forget the way outsiders saw it. In public his right hand was dominant.
Then Miin demonstrated them for the boy. “One in each hand, like this, and strike single strings, lightly, so.” She struck a string, and a fine note came forth, augmented by the soundbox built into the base of the dulcimer.
Scevo's face widened into a huge smile. He took the sticks and beat on two strings, making two notes. He liked banging on things, especially when the things made interesting sounds. He beat on two more, making two new notes, and then two more. His happiness radiated in time with the sounds. This was a good instrument, because the child's own bad-handedness did not show; it was always played with both hands.
“Like this,” Huu said after a moment. He sat behind the boy, reached around him, took the two little hands in his, and caused him to beat two notes alternately, making a primitive tune. Then he beat them together, making a primitive chord. “Can you do that?” he asked, letting go.
Scevo beat alternate notes, then chords. He was completely delighted.
“Now I will join you,” Huu said, bringing out his double clarinet. “You play those notes; I'll play the melody.”
The boy joyfully played the notes, and Huu went into a suitable melody. It worked well, for Scevo had good timing, and Huu had long experience that enabled him to adapt to almost any accompaniment.
“I think we have found his instrument,” Ana remarked, relenting in her reservation toward it.
After a moment, Miin stepped out before them, dancing. At age eleven she was emerging as a beautiful girl with fine legs, her slenderness making her nascent breasts seem more. She swirled her long dark hair around and moved her hips lithely. Huu watched with appreciation tinged with concern; she was almost too lovely, which could put her at risk in another way. Her hands were normal, but there was a demand for loveliness for the harems of the wealthy or powerful, and some men did not take no as a suitable response.
Then Ana joined them too, moving her own mature body in the practiced ways of the experienced dancer. The two made a marvelous set, the woman and the girl, matching step for step. Huu elaborated his theme, and Scevo maintained the beat. The boy definitely had a talent for it; he had not missed a note, after getting it straight.