Once There Was Fire: A Novel of Old Hawaii

by Stephen Shender

  “You are certain he is dead then?” Ka‘akau demanded.

  “I worked a powerful magic on him the night before he disappeared in the sea,” Lilihae said. “The spell did not take effect at once because he was too strong. But as you know, Kamehameha was also a very strong wave rider. No mere wave could have broken him. Only a mighty spell such as mine could do that. Surely, he is in the depths with Kanaloa now.”

  Ka‘akau said nothing.

  “You will arrange for the Makahiki tribute of the Lapakahi ahupua‘a to be delivered to me as promised, of course?” Lilihae ventured.

  “When Kanaloa returns Kamehameha’s body to us, then you shall have your tribute—as promised,” Ka‘akau replied.

  “And if his body is never found?” Lilihae asked.

  “In that case, we may have to wait until the next Makahiki time, when I can be sure that he is truly gone,” Ka‘akau said. He turned on his heel and disappeared into the mō‘ī’s hale.

  “Do you have news of Kamehameha?” Keawe‘ōpala asked.

  “No one yet knows what has become of him, Lord,” Ka‘akau said.

  By this time, ten days had passed since Alapa‘i’s body was first thrust into the imu, and the fire had cleansed the dead king’s defiled flesh from his bones. Ka‘akau decreed that Kawaihae was no longer kapu for Keawe‘ōpala’s sacred personage and gave the new mō‘ī leave to return. Keawe‘ōpala’s party journeyed up the Kohala Coast by canoe, beating against prevailing winds and a strong southerly current. He was in no hurry and the voyage took longer than usual. Along the way, he and his party stopped each night at a different coastal village, where Keawe‘ōpala took full advantage of his royal status, commanding the villagers in each place to prepare him a sumptuous meal.

  While Keawe‘ōpala thus dawdled, Kamehameha and Kekūhaupi‘o continued southward on foot, always keeping well mauka of the coast on upland footpaths that were almost always shrouded in the veils of Lono’s clouds. The vegetation was lush at these heights and Kameha and Kekūhaupi‘o never lacked for nourishment, though it was limited to fruit such as guava, lilikoi, and ’ōhelo berries. They kept to the high footpaths until they were well below Kailua, when they descended at last to the coast.

  Ka‘akau sent for Maile upon returning with Keawe‘ōpala to Kawaihae. “Lilihae tells me that Kamehameha drowned. Do you believe this is so?” he asked.

  Eagerly, Maile related all that he had seen—but not heard—in the high priest’s absence. Then he offered his own opinion. “I do not believe Kamehameha has drowned,” he said. “I believe that Holo‘ae plotted with Kekūhaupi‘o to help him escape. Moreover, no one has seen Kekūhaupi‘o since he left Kawaihae several nights ago. I think he is with Kamehameha even now.”

  “You may be right,” Ka‘akau said. “Continue to keep watch on Holo‘ae and say nothing of this to anyone.” Ka‘akau did not want Keawe‘ōpala to learn yet that Kamehameha might still live. The new mō‘ī had entrusted him to eliminate Kameha and erase the threat of the old prophecy. If Kamehameha was not dead, and if Holo‘ae had indeed aided his escape from Kawaihae, Ka‘akau wanted to be sure that Keawe‘ōpala’s wrath would fall on Holo‘ae’s head when he learned the truth.

  Holo‘ae was at this time preparing Alapa‘i’s long bones for interment in the Mailekini Heiau, on the hillside overlooking the bay at Kawaihae. Ka‘akau could not move against Holo‘ae while he was engaged in this sacred ritual because the kahuna’s very person was kapu for the duration of the burial rites, which involved several days of prayer. Moreover, Holo’ae had been trusted by old Alapa‘i, and he still had the confidence of the late king’s son. Ka‘akau needed incontrovertible proof of Holo‘ae’s treachery before he dared bring any accusations against him.

  It was the ever-observant Maile who pointed Ka‘akau to the evidence he required. Maile was assisting Holo‘ae when two men approached bearing large woven baskets full of freshly caught fish. They laid the basket at Holo‘ae’s feet and knelt before him. The kahuna regarded them for a moment and then gestured to them to rise and follow him to a corner of the heiau courtyard away from his assistant. Suspecting they were the fishermen Holo‘ae had met at the beach before Kamehameha’s disappearance, Maile brought this bit of intelligence to Ka‘akau. “If you question these men,” Maile told him, “you may uncover Kamehameha’s true fate.”

  Ka‘akau directed several ali‘i warriors to intercept the two men and bring them straight to him. He interrogated them outside the heiau walls and beyond Holo‘ae’s sight and hearing. The fishermen answered his questions without hesitation. They were common folk, and accustomed to obeying anyone in authority. When Holo‘ae had come to them, they had readily agreed to help Kamehameha. Holo‘ae was a kahuna and a simple request from him was as good as a command. Now they bowed equally to the will of the high priest Ka‘akau. Yes, they confirmed, Holo‘ae had asked them to pluck Kamehameha from the sea. Yes, they had indeed found him, although he was in the water and not on his surf-riding board as Holo‘ae had said he would be. They had brought him ashore at Hāpuna Bay. They did not know where he had gone after that.

  Ka‘akau brought the fishermen to Keawe‘ōpala. They prostrated themselves in front of the new mō‘ī, pressing their foreheads against the hale’s floor. “Kamehameha still lives, Lord,” Ka‘akau said. “He did not drown in the waves; he used them to cloak his departure from Kawaihae. These two helped him. They fished him from the sea and took him to the shore in their canoe.”

  Keawe‘ōpala, who had been reclining on a sedge mat, drew himself up and scowled at the men, who were trembling. “But do not blame them over-harshly, Lord,” Ka‘akau added, “for they were only doing Holo‘ae’s bidding.”

  “Is this true?” Keawe‘ōpala demanded. The pair nodded in unison. Their eyes remained fixed on the hale’s lava-stone floor. They dared not look up at the angry monarch. “Holo‘ae told you to do this?” he asked, his voice rising in anger. Shaking with fear, the men nodded again. “Very well,” Keawe‘ōpala said. “Because you were commanded by the kahuna, you will not be punished. But you will bring me all of your fishing catch for thirty days. And you will say nothing about any of this to anyone. You will tell no one that I have spoken with you. Now go.” Keeping low to the ground and still quaking, the fishermen backed out of the hale, their lips sealed.

  After the two frightened fishermen had departed, Keawe‘ōpala turned on Ka‘akau. “How could Kamehameha get away?” he demanded. “You failed me!”

  “My lord,” Ka‘akau soothed, “I engaged the sorcerer as you commanded, but remember, Holo‘ae was present when you told me to do this. He must have helped Kamehameha escape before the old one could work his magic.”

  “Then Holo‘ae must be punished,” Keawe‘ōpala said. “He has plotted against me and for this, he must die!”

  “You cannot move against him publicly,” Ka‘akau cautioned. “Holo‘ae has not defied you openly. People would not understand it, and they would judge you harshly. And if they did understand your motive, they would judge you more harshly still. Remember, they still admire Kamehameha.”

  “Then how am I to deal with him?” Keawe‘ōpala exclaimed.

  “Send him as your emissary to Kalani‘ōpu‘u in Ka‘ū. Kalani‘ōpu‘u has yet to acknowledge your authority. Tell Holo‘ae to say to Kalani‘ōpu‘u how much you grieve for Kamehameha and how you wish only for harmony between the two of you.”

  “But Holo‘ae knows this is not true.”

  “No matter,” Ka‘akau said. “He will never reach Ka‘ū.”

  Holo‘ae and Ka‘akau jointly presided over the interment Alapa‘i’s long bones at the Mailekini Heiau. Afterwards, Keawe‘ōpala summoned Holo‘ae to his hale.

  “Holo‘ae, I am concerned that my brother Kalani‘ōpu‘u believes I wish him ill,” he said. “It is true that I fought with Kalani when he opposed my father, but I seek no quarrel with him now that my father is gone.”

  “I am sure he will be glad to hear this news,�
� Holo‘ae replied, impassively.

  “And the sooner he hears it, the better,” said Keawe‘ōpala. “I am sending you to Ka‘ū to tell Kalani‘ōpu‘u how I grieve with him over the loss of his nephew Kamehameha and desire only peace between us.”

  “When shall I leave?” Holo‘ae asked.

  “In the morning. I have arranged for a canoe to take you.”

  In truth, the arrangements had been made by Ka‘akau. The priest summoned the two warriors whom he had ordered to keep watch on Kamehameha. “Kamehameha did not drown,” he told them. “He has fled with his kahu, Kekūhaupi‘o. You were supposed to watch him closely and make sure that he did not try to leave Kawaihae. This was the will of your mō‘ī, Keawe‘ōpala.” Ka‘akau continued. “You failed, and for this, I should punish you severely.” The two men exchanged anxious glances. “But I have another task for you, and if you succeed, your failure in the first matter will be overlooked.”

  Ka‘akau told the pair that Holo‘ae had helped Kamehameha escape. “He knew that Keawe‘ōpala had forbidden Kamehameha to leave but he helped him anyway,” he said. “He committed treason.” Ka‘akau told the men they were to take Holo‘ae to Ka‘ū by canoe, but that he must never arrive. “It is up to you how you manage it, but his death must look like an accident.” To ensure that Holo‘ae would not escape his trap, Ka‘akau ordered the two men to keep watch on the kahuna’s hale throughout the night.

  Holo‘ae was suspicious of Keawe‘ōpala’s intentions toward Kalani‘ōpu‘u. How genuine could Keawe‘ōpala’s desire for peace be so soon after he had sought the death of Kalani‘ōpu‘u’s beloved nephew, Kamehameha? Holo‘ae suspected that his mission to Ka‘ū was merely a ruse meant to lull Kalani‘ōpu‘u into dropping his guard. He would not lend himself to such a deception. Nevertheless, he welcomed Keawe‘ōpala’s charade as an opportunity to escape from Kawaihae.

  His two escorts arrived at his hale just after dark and bedded down on mats outside his doorway.

  “Why have you come here now?” Holo‘ae demanded of the two men.

  “The journey to Ka‘ū is long and we must depart early,” one of the men explained. “We will sleep here so that we will be ready to leave with you at first light.”

  “It is not necessary for you to sleep at my door,” Holo‘ae said. “Come back in the morning to fetch me when you are ready to leave.”

  “No,” the second man said. “We will stay here.”

  “Well then, stay here if you must,” replied Holo‘ae, smiling despite his suspicion. “Perhaps you are hungry?” he asked. “I have some poi. I would be pleased to share it with you, if you would like.”

  The two men nodded. Holo‘ae fetched a calabash full of poi from his hale. After he and his two “guests” licked the last of the sticky poi from their fingers, Holo‘ae asked the men, “Do you wish for anything else?”

  “Thank you for the poi, Lord,” one of the men replied, “but we have imposed on your hospitality enough for one evening. We have a long journey tomorrow and we must rest now.”

  “Indeed,” said Holo‘ae. Pausing at his doorway, he turned back to them and said, “When you see Ka‘akau and Keawe‘ōpala tomorrow night, please tell them how grateful I was for your assistance.”

  “Mahalo, Lord,” the second man said. “We will tell them.”

  Inside, Holo‘ae extinguished the oil lamp and lay very still in the dark. After some time, he heard one of the men on his threshold mutter to the other, “You fool. What were you thinking?” The other man did not respond. But Holo‘ae had heard enough.

  Holo‘ae said nothing as he walked with the two men to the beach the next morning, even as they tried to engage him in conversation.

  “It is a fine day for a sea journey, is it not, old man?” asked one.

  In response, Holo‘ae merely grunted and pursed his lips.

  “See how calm the water is this morning,” exclaimed the other as they neared the beach. “We will make good time today and reach Ka‘ū before you know it.”

  Holo‘ae held his silence and kept his eyes fixed on the shore, where a light surf was breaking.

  The kahuna knew that physically, he was no match for either of the two younger men, and certainly not both in combination. And yet in the close quarters of a small voyaging canoe, he might achieve a momentary advantage. Toward that end he had donned a kapa cloth robe to hide the bulge in the belt of his malo, where he had concealed a newly sharpened wooden dagger. “To protect my old bones against the damp sea air,” Holo‘ae had explained to one of the men when the latter remarked about his robe.

  Preoccupied as they were with their own scheme, neither of Holo‘ae’s two would-be assassins noticed that the kahuna’s right hand never wavered from his midsection, even as he stepped into the canoe.

  Their plan was simple. When they reached Pauoa Bay, about five miles south of Kawaihae, the warrior at the stern of the boat would strike Holo‘ae sharply from behind with his paddle. They would throw the stunned kahuna overboard and watch him to make sure he drowned. If need be, one of them would jump into the water to hold Holo‘ae under until he died. When they were certain that the kahuna was dead, they would abandon the canoe and swim ashore. Pauoa Bay was close enough to Kawaihae that they could easily regain the village—with their tale of the day’s “tragic” events—before nightfall.

  The warriors did not anticipate any problems. They were confident that it would not be difficult to slay Holo‘ae. In their eyes, he was an old man, while they were young and strong. But Holo‘ae, who was at this time about forty years old, was in fact exceptionally fit; he was trim and still blessed with quick reflexes.

  The warriors chatted idly as they paddled southward. They told bawdy jokes that drew no laughter from Holo‘ae. The kahuna smiled as if amused, but his smile was tight and his grip on the dagger hidden under his robe was tighter still. Neither of the two men seemed aware of his alert posture. The warrior in the stern who was to strike the first blow never noticed the tension in the kahuna’s neck and shoulders.

  At length, the warrior in the bow turned around to speak directly to him for the first time since they had set out from Kawaihae. “Are you enjoying the voyage, old man?” he asked with a broad smile. Holo‘ae ignored the man’s too-wide grin and fixed instead on his eyes, which now were not on him.

  Sweeping his robe aside, the kahuna dropped to the bottom of the canoe, rolled onto his back and braced the dagger point-upward against himself just as the warrior in the stern raised his paddle to strike him. The paddle blade cut through empty air, and the warrior stumbled and fell upon Holo‘ae and his waiting blade. The man’s weight and the momentum of his fall drove the dagger deep into his stomach. He screamed.

  The man in the bow froze, uncomprehending. Holo‘ae rolled the writhing wounded warrior aside, simultaneously wrenching the bloody dagger from the man’s stomach, and flew at the other man, driving the blade into his throat before he could raise his arms to ward off the blow. Choking on his own blood, the warrior could not even scream as he tumbled into the sea. Struggling to keep his grip on the dagger, Holo‘ae was only just able to arrest his own momentum before it carried him over the side with his second victim.

  Breathing heavily from his exertions, the kahuna turned back to the first man, who was now feebly trying to raise himself on one elbow. “Let me help you, my son,” Holo‘ae said. He grabbed a handful of the warrior’s long black hair, jerked his head up, and slit his throat. The younger man gurgled and lay still. Holo‘ae was very tired now. He rested for some time before he was able to summon the strength to heft the warrior’s considerable dead weight over the side of the canoe. Then at last, he seated himself at the stern, picked up a paddle and began stroking. “It is indeed a fine day for a sea journey,” he said aloud, as the canoe resumed its progress toward Ka‘ū. Several shark fins broke the bloodied waters’ surface as he paddled away. The two warriors’ bodies were never found.

  Holo‘ae made slow progress in his voyage
south. He did not come ashore for the rest of the first day. He was still too close to Kawaihae and he dared not risk being seen. Even if he was not recognized, talk of an “old one” alone in a canoe would soon reach Ka‘akau and Keawe‘ōpala. Keeping well to sea, Holo‘ae paddled slowly but steadily, pausing only occasionally to eat or drink. At last, as the day’s last light was fading, he beached the canoe in a secluded cove, where he dozed fitfully next to the vessel, ready to put to sea should anyone venture near. Holo‘ae kept on for several days, slipping ashore only at night, until he reached his ancestral home at Ke‘ei, where his nephew Kekūhaupi‘o still reigned as village chief. The kahuna hoped to find Kekūhaupi‘o and Kamehameha already there, but no one had seen them, nor had they heard any word of them. Taking advantage of his status as a priest and Kekūhaupi‘o’s uncle, he requisitioned a sail canoe and two young warriors to man it and reached Kalani‘ōpu‘u’s village at Ka Lae the next day.

  Kalani‘ōpu‘u already knew of Alapa‘i’s death and Keawe‘ōpala’s succession, but Holo‘ae was the first to tell him of the attempt on Kamehameha’s life and of his beloved nephew’s narrow escape. This news enraged Kalani‘ōpu‘u. “I will sacrifice that pig Keawe‘ōpala on the altar of Kū before the next full moon!” he exclaimed. Kalani‘ōpu‘u turned to his military kahu, who was seated on an adjacent mat in the courtyard of the chieftain’s hale. “Puna! We must gather our warriors at once to march on Kawaihae!”

  The big warrior grunted and said, “Keawe‘ōpala must be destroyed, but we will surely need many allies in such a fight, and at present we have few.”

  “In that case Puna, I will leave it to you to amass an army of sufficient strength to defeat Keawe‘ōpala,” Kalani‘ōpu‘u replied. “But move quickly, for my patience is nearing an end.”

  Puna did not have to search long for allies. They came to him, and it was mostly Keawe‘ōpala’s doing. Among our people in those days, no one held permanent title to the land. All land belonged to the reigning mō‘ī, who divided it among his followers. Upon his death, their claims lapsed and his successor was free to redistribute the land among his own followers as he chose. Land was distributed in whole districts to high chiefs, who then subdivided it among lesser chiefs in smaller parcels, ranging from okanas down to ahupua‘as and the smallest plots—ilis. Sometimes, these last would even be granted to commoners.