Sacrifice of the Honored

by Ronald Linson

Part 1 appears
in this issue.

conclusion

A few hours later, at the feast, the Tanners and Martin sat on the ground across from Joe and his sons. Plates of fish, fruit, and some meat they thought was probably wild pig, were arranged between them. It all tasted heavenly, and Elise said so, pleasing their hosts immensely.

“It is not often we have visitors from outside,” Joe said through Martin. “It gives us a chance to show off.” He laughed, and his sons dutifully laughed along.

“Oh, I think everyone does that from time to time,” Elise said. “It’s universal.”

“Speaking of showing off,” Robert said. He tilted his head toward a group of young people approaching.

The musicians, playing traditional Polynesian instruments, changed from a leisurely, almost idle tune to something fast and energetic. The young people, two boys and four girls ranging in age from about twelve to sixteen, began to dance.

Torches and small fires had been placed in what seemed to be more or less random locations, but it was now evident that it wasn’t random at all. The firelight provided ample illumination for the dancers to be seen by everyone.

The dancers were garbed in traditional fashion, the boys in loincloths and dog tooth anklets, and the girls in short grass skirts.

Joe indicated two of the girls. “They are my granddaughters,” he said. “Aren’t they lovely?”

Elise and Robert agreed that they were very much so, and complimented them on their dancing skills for good measure.

“Have you any children?” Joe asked.

“Yes,” Elise said, “we have a son and a daughter, both grown and married.”

“Grandchildren?”

Elise shook her head. “Not yet. We’ve been pestering them about it, though.”

Joe found this highly amusing, laughing until he was holding his stomach.

While his father recovered, Bill said, “My wife and I needed no pestering,” which set Joe off again.

Robert rummaged in his bag and pulled out a camera. “May I?” he asked Joe, motioning to the dancers.

Joe waved dismissively. “You don’t have to keep asking.”

Elise laid a hand on Robert’s arm. “Honey, maybe that’s not such a good idea. Those girls are awfully young, and, well, they’re practically naked. We could get in trouble with Customs.”

“I’ll tell them we’re doing a piece for National Geographic,” Robert said. “Come to think of it, they probably would love an article about Tonwaii.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Elise promised, releasing his arm.

Robert got up and headed for the sandy area where the dancers were performing, drawing curious looks from people as he passed. The dancers didn’t miss a beat as he snapped the first picture. In fact, they seemed to enjoy the added attention, smiling broadly for the camera, and, Elise thought, hamming it up just a bit too much.

Robert returned a few minutes later, complaining about how quickly the camera’s memory cards filled up. “We might have to make another trip.”

“That can be arranged,” Martin said, smiling.

Joe watched this untranslated exchange with mild interest. “If you are speaking about taking pictures,” he said, “then the timing of your visit is fortuitous.”

“What do you mean?” Elise asked.

“In two days, we will be celebrating the—”

Martin had difficulty translating the last part, and had to ask Joe to clarify several times. Finally, he said, “It is a festival to honor those who saved Tonwaii from the wrath of Halitosi long ago. He says it is celebrated only every ten years.”

“Welcome,” Joe said with a flourish, showcasing his word.

“I assume we’ll be the first outsiders to witness the festival?” Robert asked.

Joe nodded solemnly.

“Th-thank you,” Elise said, feeling surprised, pleased, and a little embarrassed at the same time. “I can’t express how honored we are that you would invite us to be present at your festival.”

“It will begin at dawn, two days hence,” Joe said. He winked. “Don’t oversleep,” he added, grinning.

Elise laughed. “Don’t worry. We won’t.”

“And I’ll make plenty of room on the memory cards,” Robert told her. “You won’t need to worry about the pictures of the dancing girls going through Customs, after all.”

* * *

Two days later, about an hour before dawn, Martin met the Tanners outside their hut. “Good morning. They’re gathering on the beach.

It looks like a procession is going to start. We’d better get moving if we don’t want to miss anything.”

In the gray half-light, they walked through the village towards the beach. The faint thrumming of drums broke the silence, followed almost immediately by a peal of laughter.

“I think they’re about ready to start,” Robert said.

“My gosh,” Elise said as they topped a small rise leading to the beach. “It looks like the whole island is here.”

Joe ambled over, grinning. “Welcome!” he said in English, then added something else for Martin to translate.

“He says we will accompany the Honored to the mouth of Halitosi, then we will celebrate for the rest of the day.”

Elise smiled and nodded. “That sounds wonderful. Who are the Honored?”

Joe pointed at a group of children set apart from the rest of the islanders. Three boys and three girls, each dressed in elaborate costumes of woven palm fronds decorated with multicolored beads and feathers, stood clutching dolls. The dolls were attired in identical fashion to the children.

“Oh,” Elise cried, bringing a hand to her mouth. “They look terrified.”

“Can you blame them?” Robert whispered. “They’re the center of attention and probably don’t know what to expect.”

Joe walked away, calling to his people. The drums intensified, and a woman approached the Honored. She led them through the crowd towards a path, the beginning of which was marked by a pair of torches. The children walked between them alone, and then the islanders cheered.

Robert snapped a few pictures, glancing around to see if anyone minded.

Joe and his sons, Bill and Tom, and women who Elise assumed were their wives and daughters, fell into step behind the Honored at a respectful distance. The rest of the islanders followed.

A young boy ran back from the head of the procession. He stopped in front of Martin and the Tanners. He gabbled something.

“Joe wants to know if we want to walk with his family,” Martin said. He asked the boy something, and the response was brief. “He forgot.”

They jogged to catch up, which wasn’t difficult, as the procession was moving at a sedate pace. The people walked along silently, except for the occasional cough or snuffle.

Dawn broke as the path sloped upward, bathing the summit of Halitosi in golden-orange flame. Robert took a picture, cringing at the sound the camera made.

At the top of the volcano, there was a relatively wide flat area around the rim. The sun had risen fully by the time the Honored reached it. They hesitated, looking back towards their friends and families before lining up at the edge of the vent. Steam rose leisurely from its depths, smelling faintly of sulfur.

The drummers started up, and the islanders, numbering about a hundred or so, began to chant.

Elise leaned into Martin and asked, “What’s going on?”

Martin, looking stricken, said, “They’re chanting, ‘Leap in’.”

Elise grabbed Robert’s arm. “Oh, my God, they’re going to throw them in!” She felt the blood drain from her face.

Robert had been about to raise the camera, but let it drop on its strap. “Are they really going to sacrifice people to the volcano? In this day and age?”

Crying in fear and anger, Elise rushed forward, stumbling on loose rocks, intending to pull the children away from danger. Robert hesitated only an instant before following. Martin took a few steps, but strong hands held him back.

Elise reached the first of the children, a little girl of about eight. “Come away. You don’t need to do this.” She took the girl gently by the arm.

The girl looked up at her with wide, uncomprehending eyes. She said something Elise interpreted as, “What are you doing?”

Robert had gone to the next child with similar results.

Joe stepped forward, scowling. “What you think you doing?” he asked in heavily accented English.

Nonplussed, Elise let go of the girl’s arm. “We’re saving them, you, you—”

Joe’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “What? Save from what?”

“I can’t believe you were about to sacrifice your own children to the volcano,” Elise said.

“Or anyone else, for that matter,” Robert added.

“What kind of barbarians are you?” she demanded. “It’s, it’s... sadistic.”

Joe looked confused. “What you talking about? We hold festival. We honor sacrifice of many, many years ago.”

Robert snorted. “So you recreate the event by sacrificing children every ten years? No wonder. If you did it every year, you’d make yourselves extinct.”

Joe shook his head, then addressed the little girl in their own language.

She nodded, turned back to the vent, and tossed in her doll. She took two steps backward, turned around, and scampered towards the waiting arms of her mother, smiling broadly.

Joe, grinning, called to the other Honored, and they threw in their dolls, too. Then they backed up, and ran to their parents as well.

Elise and Robert’s mouths hung open. They were both speechless.

Joe walked up to them. “Sorry if you confused,” he said, with a big smile on his face. “We are no barbarian,” he declared. “Now, we party.” He spread his arms wide. “Welcome!”