“Why have you come here?” he demanded.
When Kekuaokalani and his people had first arrived at Ka‘awaloa, the former royal retreat of Kalani’ōpu‘u, they found the place shabby and in disrepair. There were large gaps in all of the hales’ roof thatching and many of the structures’ supporting poles and beams were cracked, rotting, or in otherwise precarious condition. The grounds were covered with decaying palm fronds and other detritus. My brother immediately set his people to repairing the damage of years of neglect.
By the time Keopuolani’s party arrived, the hales were habitable again. The houses’ wooden frames had been strengthened; failing corner posts and beams were replaced and the supporting structures freshly lashed together. Fresh pili grass thatching now securely sealed walls and roofs against rain and wind. The mua and the hale aina, the eating houses for men and women, were the first repaired; the hale moe, the family dwelling and sleeping houses, were next. Kekuaokalani built a new hale moe for himself and Manono upon the lava stone floor laid decades earlier for the hale of Kalani‘ōpu’u. All these structures were clustered together as they had been in Kalani‘ōpu’u’s day. My brother ordered an additional building constructed well away from the others: the armory, where the muskets, powder, and shot Kauiwa and Holo‘ialena had secretly taken from Kailua were kept.
“Ihave come with a proposal from my sacred son, the king, who desires only peace between you and himself,” Keopuolani said to Kekuaokalani.
“What proposal is this?” asked Manono, who had followed closely behind Kekuaokalani as people made way for him. In contrast to Keopuolani’s full-length, haole-cloth gown, Manono wore a short skirt of kapa cloth. Her breasts were bare.
“As I have said, my royal son wishes for peace,” Keopuolani began in reply. “But we two,” she continued, and then paused to indicate that she was speaking of herself and Kekuaokalani, “we two should discuss the details of his proposal together.”
“Anything you have to say to me you can say also to Manono,” my brother replied curtly. “And to Kauiwa and Holo‘ialena, who are my trusted advisers,” he added.
“That is just as well, nephew,” Keopuolani said. “Naihe, Hoapili, and your own brother, who have come with me, should also attend.”
Engaged as he was with Keopuolani, my brother had not heretofore noticed me standing just behind her, holding the kahili. “Nāmākēha!” he cried and stepped past Keopuolani to hug me. I could not hug him in return because I was still holding the royal standard. When we finished wailing our greetings to each other, my brother greeted Naihe but pointedly ignored Hoapili. Of course, I had no opportunity to warn Kekuaokalani of the plot against him while Hoapili and Keopuolani stood there.
His mood now improved, my brother turned back to Keopuolani. “You must be hungry,” he said. “Let us meet at my hale and speak of my cousin’s proposal after we eat. Manono will show you to the hale aina.”
At this, Hoapili stepped forward. “There is no need for Keopuolani to eat at the women’s house,” he snapped. “We are free eaters now.”
“You may be free eaters at Kailua,” my brother growled, “but we are all kapu eaters here.”
Both men tensed; I feared they would come to blows. Ever the intermediary, I stepped between them, being careful not to drop Keopuolani’s kahili. “Perhaps you and Keopuolani can eat together here while the others eat at the mua and the hale aina,” I said to Hoapili. “Would this be acceptable, Kekua?”
“Whom Keopuolani and Hoapili choose to eat with is of no concern of mine,” my brother replied, “but I cannot eat with a wahine.”
Hoapili now had a change of heart. “Very well,” he said. “Because we are your guests here, Keopuolani and I will abide by your kapus. I will join the men. Keopuolani will join the women; I am sure that she and Manono will have much to talk about.”
Keopuolani made no objection as Manono and the other women led her to the hale aina. Meanwhile, we men repaired to the mua. I understood why Hoapili had changed his mind. He had been charged with keeping watch on Naihe and me and did not want to leave either of us alone with Kekuaokalani.
The meal was sparse: yams, sweet potatoes, breadfruit, poi, and some fish, but no pig meat, coconut, or bananas. Kekuaokalani saw that we were still hungry as we licked the last of the food from our fingers. “I apologize if your hunger is not appeased,” he said. “The common people here will not share their produce and pigs with us except in exchange for haole goods, and we have few of those to trade now.”
Looking directly at Hoapili, my brother continued, “They have heard about what has transpired at Kailua of late. This is what happens when the kānaka learn that certain ali‘i do not respect the kapus.” Hoapili scowled at my brother, but said nothing.
“My son, the mō‘ī, offers all of Keauhou to you and your people,” Keopuolani said to Kekuaokalani. “He promises that you may live there and observe the kapus, unmolested.”
We had assembled at my brother’s hale after the meal. We sat on sedge mats around a kukui-oil lamp, our shadows wavering on the hale’s grass walls.
“Will Liholiho permit others to come to us?” my brother asked.
“Yes. Any who desire to live according to the kapus may join you there,” Keopuolani replied.
“What of our landholdings? Will they extend from the sea to the mountains?”
“My son says you shall have all the lands at Keauhou, makai to mauka.”
“Liholiho offers us an entire ahupua‘a? What does he want in return?”
“My son asks only that you live peacefully within your own lands and refrain from opposing the rights of those who reside in his lands,” Keopuolani replied.
“In other words, they may indulge in free eating if they choose?”
“They have already chosen,” retorted Hoapili, who had said nothing since my brother’s earlier reprimand.
Kekuaokalani would have responded in kind had Manono not spoken first. “Liholiho has made a reasonable and generous offer,” she said. “You will consider it, won’t you Kekua?” Manono hungered for peace between the two cousins as much as I did. Moreover, the promise of an ahupua‘a that included some of the Kona District’s most productive lands was indeed a reasonable offer on its face.
Before Kekuaokalani could reply, Keopuolani spoke again. “My son asks only one favor of you, nephew,” she said.
“What favor is that, Aunt?” my brother asked.
“He asks only that you bring back the canoes you took when first you came here.”
Now Manono spoke again. “That seems only fair, does it not, Kekua?”
“Yes,” said my brother, “it does.” Now Kekuaokalani turned to me. “What do you think, Nāmākēha?”
I glanced at Hoapili who was staring hard at me now. “I think you should consider it, brother,” I replied. Hoapili frowned, for my answer was less affirmative than he expected, and I quickly amended it. “Our cousin is the mō‘ī,” I said. “I think he wishes only peace with you and he has made you a generous offer in good faith.” All this, at least, was true.
Kekuaokalani stared at the single kukui-oil lamp, as if seeking an answer in its flame. “I will consider it this night, Aunt,” he said at last. “You will have my answer in the morning.”
“You should have spoken to Kekuaokalani more forcefully,” Hoapili said to me as he, Naihe, and I left Kekuaokalani’s hale. Keopuolani had parted with us to pass the night alone at the hale aina. “Ka‘ahumanu sent you here to persuade your brother to accept our Lord Liholiho’s proposal.”
“I well know why I was sent here,” I rejoined, “and who sent me. I have already vouched for the sincerity of Liholiho’s proposal. What else would you have me do?”
“Talk to your brother again and see that he accepts it,” he snapped.
Ioffered to return to Kekuaokalani’s hale to speak to him again, but Hoapili would not allow me to go alone and said he was too weary to accompany me. “We will speak to him again the morning,” he said.
Hoapili, Naihe, and I slept that night in the mua, there being no other accommodations for us in Ka‘awaloa. I lay on my mat, fighting sleep and listening to the other men’s breathing until I was certain both slept. Then I stole out of the hale. Lono’s moon was no more than a shard of silver and the night was deep in darkness as I crossed the settlement to the hale of Kekuaokalani and Manono. It was darker still within the hale. Remaining at the threshold, I called softly to the slumbering couple.
“Kekua, Manono, wake up, wake up.” I called out several times before either of them stirred. Manono was the first to reply.
“Who is there? Nāmākēha, is that you?”
“Yes. Please, rouse my brother; I have something I must tell both of you,” I said.
“Nāmākēha?” Kekuaokalani was awake now. “Why are you here, brother?”
“Listen to me,” I said. “Do not go to Keauhou by sea. It’s a trap.”
“A trap? What sort of trap, Nāmākēha?” Kekuaokalani demanded. “You told us that Liholiho’s proposal was sincere.”
“Liholiho is sincere,” I said, “but Ka‘ahumanu, Kahekili Ke‘eaumoku, and Kalanimoku are not. They are plotting to destroy all of you as you sail to Keauhou. Our cousin does not know of this, nor does Keopuolani.”
“How is it that you know about this, brother?” Manono asked.
“Naihe told me and I trust him,” I said.
“How and when will they attack us?” my brother said.
“I do not have time to explain, Kekua. Just trust me. Now I must get back lest Hoapili awakens and misses me. He is part of this conspiracy against you as well.” With that, I turned away and retreated into the night.
Ihad almost regained the mua when an indistinct form separated itself from a palm tree directly in front of the hale. To avoid being seen, I kept to the deep shadows of the trees, working my way to the rear of the eating house, whence I approached the front. Rounding a corner, I encountered Hoapili. He had been urinating on the tree, a mark of extreme disrespect for my brother and his people.
“Where have you gone?” Hoapili demanded of me.
“I went to relieve myself,” I replied, “the same as you. But, unlike you, Hoapili, I had the decency not to foul this eating house!” I pushed past him into the mua and lay down on my sleeping mat without another word.
My sleeping mat was near Naihe’s. “Well done, Nāmākēha,” he whispered, “well done.”
Kekuaokalani seemed in good spirits as we said our farewells the next morning. Turning to Keopuolani, he said, “Please tell your son, my royal cousin, that we will return his canoes to Keauhou.”
“Thank you, nephew, I am sure my son, the king, will be most happy to hear this,” Keopuolani replied.
“When will you sail?” Hoapili asked. His question conveyed an urgency that he no doubt had not intended. “Your mō‘ī will surely want to know when to expect you,” he added.
Kekuaokalani smiled broadly at Hoapili. “Please understand that we have much to prepare before we depart. Tell the mō‘ī that we will sail for Keauhou in four days’ time,” he said.
As my brother and I hugged and wailed goodbye, Kekuaokalani whispered into my ear, “Take care, little brother. I will see you in Kailua in three days.”
Kuamo‘o, November 1819
Taking only their muskets, spears, knives, axes and whatever other weapons they had to hand, Kekuaokalani and his people stole away from Ka‘awaloa that very night. My brother left behind a dozen men to maintain the deception that he and his people were yet still there. Kekuaokalani meant to descend on Kailua before Kalanimoku or Kahekili Ke‘eaumoku could react, imprison or, if necessary, kill Ka‘ahumanu, and capture Liholiho. Then, with our weak-willed royal cousin under his control, he would prevail upon him to restore the kapus.
Upon parting with Kekuaokalani, we did not return directly to Kailua as Keopuolani expected. Instead, Hoapili ordered the canoe’s crew to make for the bay at Moku‘ōhai, just below Palemanō Point at Kealakekua Bay’s southern extremity, and out of sight of Ka‘awaloa. It was there, makai of the rock-strewn field where Kamehameha had defeated his cousin Kiwala‘ō twenty-seven years earlier, that Kalanimoku waited for word of my brother’s decision.
“Hoapili, why do we go this way?” Keopuolani asked.
“We go to meet Kalanimoku.”
Feigning surprise, I asked, “Kalanimoku is here? Why?”
Hoapili did not respond. In any case, Kalanimoku’s purpose was soon apparent to all, for as we came in view of Moku‘ōhai, we saw the Pelekane and two of her sister ships anchored offshore. Drawing still closer, we saw that they carried large cannons. A score or more warriors milled about on each ship, most with muskets.
“Kalanimoku means to attack Kekuaokalani?” asked Naihe.
“What do you think?” Hoapili replied. “Of course he does. That was always his intention.”
“But Liholiho promised my brother that he and his people could live in peace at Keauhou,” I protested.
Keopuolani shook her head in disbelief. “Did my son order this?” she asked.
“You can both be sure that Kalanimoku acts in his name and the name of Liholiho’s co-ruler, Ka‘ahumanu,” said Hoapili.
Kalanimoku was waiting for us on one of the ships. He greeted me caustically when we boarded. “Ah,” he said, “I see that the younger brother of the kahuna nui of the all-powerful war god, Kūkā‘ilimoku, has come to join us. Did you enjoy your visit with Kekuaokalani, Nāmākēha? And did you convince him to return Lord Liholiho’s canoes?”
“Kekuaokalani has honored Liholiho’s request, but it is clear to me that you have no intention of honoring your lord’s promise—a promise he made to my brother and your own sister!” I replied, with as much shock and belligerence as I could manage.
Kalanimoku was unmoved. “Tell me when he will go to Keauhou,” he demanded. I glowered at him and said nothing.
“Do not waste any more words on this one,” Hoapili said. “Kekuaokalani says he will leave in four days.”
“Is this so?” Kalanimoku asked me.
I did not reply.
K alanimoku was too shrewd to take Kekuaokalani at his word or trust mine. Soon after he interrogated me, he dispatched several of his people to Nāpo‘opo‘o in the ship’s cutter to keep watch on Ka‘awaloa from across the bay and report any activity there. Kalanimoku wanted to know immediately when Kekuaokalani’s people put to sea. Later that day he decided he wanted further intelligence, so he sent word to his spies that they should disguise themselves as simple fishermen, take a canoe from Nāpo‘opo‘o, and approach Ka‘awaloa to observe the village more closely. By the time this order reached them, the spies judged that it was already too late in the day for this foray and they remained where they were.
My brother’s ruse succeeded for a night and half the next day. That evening, Kalanimoku’s spies saw what they believed to be much activity at Ka‘awaloa. With the coming of darkness, small fires sprang to life here and there along the shore; lit torches moved back and forth, their progress marked by streams of light. The sound of what seemed like many voices speaking at once carried across the water to Nāpo‘opo‘o, but so weakly as to be unintelligible. Later, the spies heard distant drumming and chanting, which lasted for several hours. Then at last, the fires guttered out one by one and all was quiet.
In the morning, Kalanimoku’s spies took a canoe from Nāpo‘opo‘o as ordered, and crossed the bay toward Ka‘awaloa. Armed with a single musket, they approached the village cautiously at first, taking care not to come too close while pretending to fish. As they drew closer, they noticed that there were no people about the shore, which was unusual in any village at that time of day. All the canoes Kekuaokalani and his people had taken in their withdrawal to Ka‘awaloa were still pulled up on the beach. The spies saw no sign of preparations for a sea voyage.
Drawing closer still, they noted that the village was unusually quiet, as if the whole place was slumbering. In truth, it
was. The dozen men who had remained at Ka‘awaloa were so exhausted from their exertions of the previous night that they had not yet awakened. Curiosity now overcoming their caution, Kalanimoku’s spies continued to paddle until they were within a few yards of the beach, and seeing no activity, they determined to risk a landing. One of the men loaded and primed the musket before they stepped onshore.
No one confronted them as they entered Ka‘awaloa proper, and they commenced a search for the inhabitants, peering warily into one hale after another, their musket always at the ready. All the houses were empty, save one.
Kekuaokalani’s men had spent the night in the hale mua, the last house the spies inspected. It was very dark inside. Slowly opening the door, the man with the musket stood unmoving at the threshold with the morning light at his back while his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the interior. Now, one of Kekuaokalani’s men stirred, sat up, yawned, and upon seeing the silhouette of the other man in the doorway, shouted to his comrades.
Aiming blindly into the darkness, Kalanimoku’s man reflexively fired his musket and hit no one. All twelve of Kekuaokalani’s men now jumped to their feet and began shouting at once. The spies turned and fled. Kekuaokalani’s men gave chase, but could not overtake them before they reached their canoe. As they pushed off from shore, the man with the musket reloaded his weapon. When Kekuaokalani’s men saw him pointing it at them, they broke off pursuit.
It was early afternoon by the time the spies found Kalanimoku on the deck of the Pelekane. Kalanimoku was furious when he learned that my brother and his people had abandoned Ka‘awaloa and he directed his anger at me. “You knew your brother meant to leave at once and go overland to Keauhou, did you not, Nāmākēha?” he demanded.
I did my best at prevaricating. Shrugging, I said, “I heard what my brother told Keopuolani and Hoapili.”
Once There Was Fire: A Novel of Old Hawaii Page 53