CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Wenderholm
Tristan wandered across sand. The beach was beautiful: much smaller than Ninety Mile, but more hidden away. The ocean sparkled in the sun. To his left, up ahead, there was an opening into an estuary, which led to the Puhoi River. Tristan saw a few people kayaking, approaching the entry and splashing themselves in water.
It was Wenderholm.
Tristan climbed the grassy hill, abutting the beach, and stood at the top.
In front of him was grassland, stretching out to both sides, and behind this was the river. In the distance, to the left, tents were set up. Barbeque sites were scattered across the park. They were only thirty minutes’ drive, now, from the North Shore of Auckland.
A large crowd of people were gathered together on the grassland. Tristan looked at them, and then beyond again. The river was tidal! Now days, surely, this whole area would flood with high tide. Curiously, the grass was green – it still seemed to survive.
Joshua was down there, in the middle of the crowd. Some of the people seemed to cling to his elbow – some looked scared, and he seemed to take their fear away. Maori, European, Pacific Islander, Asian, Indian – all were there.
Tristan still found the man strange. There was certainly something about him, no argument there. He was compelling, though Tristan couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was. His words seemed to reach to the heart of the person – whoever that person happened to be. They seemed to reach to the heart of the crowd.
“Why worry about what’s going to happen tomorrow?” Joshua’s voice asked, floating up the hill. “Worrying’s not going to fix anything, is it? It’ll just give you an ulcer, or angina.”
“Or worry lines!” some girl called out, and others laughed.
“Look at today, not tomorrow. See? It’s a beautiful day. Each day is a gift given to us – we should use it well.”
Rau was climbing the hill now, with that new man, John. They stood next to Tristan, and Tristan sighed.
“You know he’s an insatiable romantic,” Tristan said, and Rau smiled.
“That’s one of the things I like about him.”
“He seems to just trust that everything’s going to be okay.”
But John was shifting slightly, beside them. “That’s not it,” he said. “It’s not just blind optimism.”
“Then what is it?” Tristan asked.
John frowned, looking at Joshua. “I’m not sure,” he said, “but he’s not blind. He sees it all.”
“Exactly,” Rau said. “He’s a romantic, but his romanticism is built on reality.”
Tristan shifted slightly, suddenly uncomfortable. “What do you mean?” he asked. “You’re losing me.”
John’s green eyes turned to Tristan. “He sees it all,” he said gently, “the good and the bad.”
Now the image was there again in front of Tristan’s eyes: explosions! Screams. The rifle was in his hands, firing – bodies were jerking, in front of him, bleeding: dying…
Tristan gasped, and fell back a step. John’s eyes were still on him – and then his hand came to Tristan’s shoulder.
“It’s all right,” he said.
“He sees it all?” Tristan choked. “How?”
“I don’t know,” John said. “But he does – and he’s good. Not just a romantic: he is actually good.”
Tristan’s eyes drifted again to Joshua. He was moving, from person to person – grasping hands, murmuring words, smiling at faces. He was good? Yes – good. Tristan could accept that: he already had.
Tane was close behind Joshua, following him everywhere he went. Behind Tane, a large group of Maori had gathered. Tristan looked between them and Joshua. Was Joshua their king? In a way he did look like a king, in that moment. Like a politician? No – more like a king. There was something in his air – something beyond a voted in leader of the State. Certainly many people seemed to already love him. The only thing that was missing was the royal wave…
Tristan’s mind drifted for a moment, to another time. When were the kings? In the medieval times, before the Age of Reason…before computers, and cars, and nukes…
“Tristan.”
The voice was strangely familiar, trying to drag him back to reality.
“Tristan!”
Tristan jerked back to the present – and now stared. His father was standing in front of him! His face! He hadn’t seen his face in nine years! How had he found him? How had he moved so quickly?
“Dad!”
His father had aged. His short black hair was quite grey, and there were permanent lines across his frowning forehead. The blue eyes now scanned over his face, and the frown softened.
“Tristan,” Mark Blake said again, his voice more gentle, “you have become a man.”
Mark extended a hand to him – and Tristan, a little awkward, took it. He had never shaken his father’s hand before – not as an adult.
“It’s been too long,” Mark said, and Tristan shook his head slightly, still in slight disbelief.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Tell me what’s been happening! Connor said…”
“Connor?” Tristan interrupted.
“You know – the PM! He told me…”
“The PM?”
“…that you’d been in the Army! The Army, Tristan – I had no idea!”
Now Tristan swallowed. Memories threatened again – but somehow he kept them at bay. What would a Bishop think of Army duty? Tristan didn’t know. He searched his father’s face, but couldn’t find any clue. All Tristan saw there now was concern.
“I was in the Army,” Tristan said, “but I pulled out.”
“Why?”
“I…” He grimaced slightly. Tell him? Tell his father? “I didn’t like it.”
Mark was silent, scanning him. Tristan saw compassion in his blue eyes. It hurt him. It reminded him of how things had been, before…before his mother…
“It must have been hard,” Mark said.
“Yeah,” Tristan replied.
“Good to be out?”
“Yeah. But not normal.”
Now Mark’s eyes seemed to moisten. He nodded. Then his gaze wandered, over the crowd, and Tristan breathed a little more freely.
“What’s going on here?” Mark began, straightening beside him. “Who is this ‘Joshua Davidson’? Everyone seems to know him – that’s how I found you.”
“Oh,” Tristan said. “Yeah, he’s becoming quite a celebrity.”
“A celebrity?”
Reporters were on the outskirts of the crowd – Tristan could see them now. He peered more closely. Were those international cameras? Surely not.
Mark became silent again – and then glanced around Tristan.
“Reverend Rau Petera!” he said. “Fancy seeing you here!”
Rau now shifted awkwardly on his feet, and quickly extended his hand.
“Right Reverend Blake,” he said. “Good to see you.”
“Bishop Andrew know that you’re here? Checking it out for him, are you?”
Tristan would have grinned – now the cards were turned! But then he suddenly realized Rau might be in a sensitive position.
“I’m on leave,” Rau replied.
“On leave?” Mark said. “And you’re spending it here?”
“We were in the neighbourhood,” Tristan said wryly, and his father’s eyes came back to him.
“How did you two…?”
“I hitched a ride up north.”
“I see.”
Mark’s eyes shifted again over the crowd. Tristan caught a brief glimpse from Rau, who seemed a little stiff. He smiled slightly at him. There was more silence. And then Mark spoke again.
“What exactly is he doing down there?” he asked. “Shaking hands like the Queen?”
Tristan smirked – how similar their thoughts suddenly were.
“Something like that,” Tristan said, and Mark laughed.
“The Governor General would have something to say about that.”
“I’ll bet,” Tristan said. “Maybe he should run for Parliament, then?”
“No point: Connor’s totally ruling the roost there.”
“I don’t think it’s his thing, anyway.”
“Wise man.”
“Think he’s more the social worker type.”
“As long as everyone’s paying their taxes, he can do as much nice stuff as he likes.”
Tristan was surprised at how easily their conversation flowed, after so long. Mark even seemed to be smiling, though there was something else behind his eyes: some kind of hidden tension.
“Where’s Selena?” Mark asked, and Tristan straightened in surprise.
“Selena?” He hadn’t seen his sister in nine years! Would he even recognise her? She had only been seven when he had left home.
Mark’s eyes were searching the crowd – and then fixed on Joshua himself.
“What on earth…?” And now Mark was striding forward, down the hill.
Tristan impulsively followed him. There was a girl, in front of Joshua! Long black curly hair, blue eyes – could it be…? Maybe sixteen, the right age – quite beautiful! But her face – she looked white: deathly white! With black shadows under the eyes.
“What’s wrong with her?” Tristan breathed. What was she doing in front of Joshua? He had her hand – what was happening between them? Something! Something big…
Their father was about to intervene. Tristan grasped his shoulder.
“Wait!” he said. “Just wait for a moment.”
Mark hesitated, under his touch – they were a few metres away. Tristan hastily searched Selena’s face – her eyes! There was some kind of conflict – some kind of struggle.
“Help!” she cried, and seemed to be clinging to Joshua’s hand – but then, suddenly, her expression hardened, and she actually scratched his face.
“Selena!” Tristan cried – and now Joshua was grasping her head, muttering words over her Tristan could not hear.
Selena screamed. The sound sent chills up Tristan’s spine. He impulsively moved forward, to protect his sister, but his father made it first.
“Get off my daughter!” Mark yelled, and he dragged Selena away from Joshua. Tristan stared at her, staggering back. Her face! It was hard! Dark, somehow: eerie! Not the sister he had known. He felt sick, looking at her – sick to his stomach.
Mark was standing now before Joshua. Tristan stared between them – between his father’s anger, and Joshua’s calm response.
“What the hell are you doing?” Mark asked. “What did you do to my daughter?”
“Nothing,” Joshua calmly replied. “There was no time.”
“You made her scream!”
“No,” Joshua said. “It wasn’t me who made her scream.”
“What are you?” Mark asked. “Some kind of cult guru?”
“I am not,” Joshua replied.
“I know who you are,” Selena’s voice said: hard – unnaturally deep, making Tristan shudder. “I know who you are!”
Joshua’s eyes were fixed on her, now: fixed firmly. Tristan had never seen him look like that before. The crowd were pressing in, watching. The cameras were running.
Selena laughed – loud, and shrill. And then Joshua spoke.
“Darkness can never coexist with light,” he said. “And one day, every dark corner will be lit up, like the brightest day. There will be no secrets, on that day. There will be no hiding place. Only truth; only honesty – only goodness will survive.”
He walked easily past Mark, and brushed past Selena. Her back arched and she fell to the ground, screaming again. Tristan shivered, in the February heat.
Joshua was gone – again, he had disappeared. The ground was damp. The tide was coming in.
Tristan was perplexed by Joshua’s words. But then he looked at his father’s face, and there he saw utter fury.
The crowd dispersed.
Tristan stood on the hill. Behind him, seawater lapped half-way up the grassy mound. In front of him, the grassy plain was flooded.
Joshua stood in the water, up to his knees, in the middle of the plain. The current was quite strong – Tristan could see he was standing hard against the tide.
Tristan gazed at him. His words, an hour ago, had changed – over Tristan’s sister, Joshua had suddenly changed his entire focus. The water had entered; the people had left. Tristan’s father also had left, with his sister, angrily telling Tristan he would be in touch.
Everyone loved comfort, and gifts. They were not so keen on exposure, and judgment. Was that what Joshua had meant, with all of his talk of darkness and light? Certainly his words had sounded like a threat – had he intended them that way? Or had he just made a great mistake, in front of international media?
A figure was approaching Joshua, now: it was John. He lingered, around Joshua: he struggled with the current, but remained. And now another figure, more solid, appeared: Rau.
Tristan hesitated – and then he also walked down the hill, and into the water. What was he doing? He wasn’t sure. But somehow he needed to know – somehow he needed to ask.
The water was cold, to begin with. He pressed through, one step at a time. Once or twice he almost fell over – and then, determined, setting his eyes on Joshua, he recovered.
Soon he was next to him.
Joshua’s face was eclipsed, somehow: impossible to read. John looked a little sad; Rau, cautious.
“What now?” Tristan said, and Joshua held his eyes steadily.
“What do you mean?”
“Well – I think that was a real PR blunder, you know? If you want popularity…”
“Do you think I care about popularity?”
Tristan searched him. “No,” he said, realizing the truth of it clearly as he said it. “I guess not.”
Rau was shifting, now, in the water. “Joshua,” he said, “the people weren’t expecting…”
“Weren’t expecting what?” Joshua interrupted him.
“Truth is truth,” Rau continued. “It’s all in how we say it.”
“How we say it?” Joshua asked. “Or how we don’t say it?”
“My sister,” Tristan said, his heart suddenly pounding hard, “what did you do to her? What did you say to her, to make her react that way?”
“That’s enough!” It was John. Surprised, drawn out of himself, Tristan looked at him. His expression had become fervent – even a little fierce. “You’re both missing the point!”
“The point?”
“What if what Joshua said was true?” John asked. “Then he must say it! He must! For all of our sakes.”
Now his eyes fixed on Tristan. “He didn’t harm your sister!” he said. “You shouldn’t be accusing him – you should be asking him what is wrong with her, and how she can be helped!”
Fear filled Tristan, now – though he couldn’t entirely explain it. Fear. He glanced at Rau, who was silenced. And then he looked at Joshua.
Now there was sadness in his face – a faraway look. He turned his back to them for a moment – he cast his eyes in the direction of the ocean. Then he returned, to look at them.
“My words stand,” he said. “Like them or not, they will come to pass. Full tide is coming – and I have come to teach people how to swim, before it is too late.”
“Full tide?” Tristan asked. “What kind of tide?”
“If people are not ready, it will sweep them away: a tsunami unlike any before.”
“You mean to warn us…”
“I haven’t come to judge the World, Tristan Blake: I have come to save it.”
Tristan stared at him – and suddenly tears welled up in his eyes: uncontrollable tears.
“Save it from what?” he cried. “Global warming? An asteroid? Weapons of mass destruction?”
“Do you think I mean a literal tsunami?” Joshua asked. “Yes, there will be flooding. Yes, there will be war, and famine – these things have always been there. I’m talking about a more fundamental threat tha
n these.”
“What?”
“The darkening of the human heart.”
Now Tristan was silenced. He remembered his sister’s face: white, with dark shadows.
“Explain,” he said.
“The times ahead will test the heart of humanity, unlike any other times before or to come,” Joshua said. “Power is escalating, and so is desperation. Each will need to choose, whether to aspire to the greatest good, or to succumb to the deepest evil. There will be no middle ground.
“The light will come: the darkness will be exposed.”
“When?” Rau asked. “When will this all take place?”
“When?” Joshua repeated. “That is not for you to know: it’s only for you to be ready.”
“The light,” John said. “It is already here.”
“Yes.”
“And the greatest good?” Tristan asked. “How can this be achieved?”
Joshua smiled sadly at him. “Only light can overcome darkness.”
John was looking at Joshua now.
“I am the light,” Joshua said. “I am also the boat, for the tide. Don’t miss the boat! Turn on the light.”
Tristan had no idea what he meant – but, once again, felt certain that all of his words were true. Light, darkness, flooding waters, desperation – disaster was coming! It was only a matter of time.