Inevitably, some chiefs would be dissatisfied with the new land dispositions, and conflict would often ensue. When Keawe‘ōpala parceled out landholdings after old Alapa‘i’s death, he greatly offended his cousin, Ke‘eaumoku. Ke‘eaumoku believed that as a nephew of the late King Alapa‘i, he was entitled to more land than Keawe‘ōpala had granted him. Always quick to anger and nearly always as quick to act on it, Ke‘eaumoku resolved to settle his claim by force.
“Brother, you do not have sufficient strength to defeat Keawe‘ōpala in battle, if it comes to that,” his half-brother, Kame‘iamoku, counseled. But Ke‘eaumoku would not be dissuaded.
“I will take what should be mine by right of birth,” he rejoined. “Let Keawe‘ōpala try to stop me.” Thereafter, he moved swiftly to expand his land holdings beyond his fiefdom in Kekaha. He ordered his people to tear down the pile of lava stones that marked the boundary between his own okana and a smaller, adjacent ahupua‘a. “It is all Kekaha now,” he declared.
When Keawe‘ōpala learned of Ke‘eaumoku’s defiance, he was furious. “I am the mō‘ī,” he thundered. “My will in this matter is final. Ke‘eaumoku should have been satisfied with Kekaha. Now my cousin shall have only the sea for his okana!”
Mustering a force of more than a thousand warriors at Kawaihae and collecting hundreds more in the course of a swift, forced march south, the new mō‘ī descended upon Ke‘eaumoku and his people with such suddenness and ferocity that they were thrown back upon the beach at Kiholo village in disarray. Ke‘eaumoku’s fighters rallied at the water’s edge just long enough to allow their chief and most of his men to escape in canoes.
Ke‘eaumoku had avoided annihilation, but he and his people could not come ashore for provisions because Keawe‘ōpala’s forces ranged along the coastline opposite them, making landing perilous. They had come away with few provisions, and hunger gnawed at their bellies. They were forced to eat raw fish, when they could catch them. Their only source of drinking water was the occasional rain that fell from passing squalls and collected in the bottom of their canoes.
At last, Ke‘eaumoku dispatched four of his youngest and strongest warriors in a light canoe to race farther south to Ka‘ū while he feinted a landing on the Kona Coast. The ruse worked. Their attention drawn to the oncoming war canoes, Keawe‘ōpala’s soldiers’ did not see the lone craft stealing away amid the concealing swells. When the young men reached Ka‘ū with the news of Ke‘eaumoku’s rebellion, Kalani‘ōpu‘u was elated.
“Now we have the allies we need!” he shouted to his kahu. “Now we go to finish the dog.”
Since his lord first swore to destroy Keawe‘ōpala, Puna had been diligently assembling warriors and canoes from throughout the Ka‘ū and Puna districts at Ka Lae. The giant warrior had also enlisted the support of Keawema‘uhili, high chief of Hilo. Though Keawema‘uhili had always been grateful to the late Alapa‘i for placing him over the eastern half of the Big Island, he distrusted Keawe‘ōpala. He came to his half-brother Kalani‘ōpu‘u’s side, bringing hundreds of warriors with him. Thus, Kalani‘ōpu‘u was able to set forth with a war fleet manned by some several thousand warriors. He made straight for Hōnaunau.
Hōnaunau, 1764
Hōnaunau was a royal retreat, a sacred place of refuge, and a place of great beauty. The kings of the Big Island were drawn there by the soft breezes that whispered in the crowns of its many shade-providing palm trees, by the sweet, fresh-water springs that flowed down the slopes of Mauna Loa, and by its abundant marine life, which included all manner of colorful fish and many honu—green sea turtles—that bobbed in the swells as they fed on the algae and the sea grasses that flourished among the submerged rocks there. Great pods of dolphins often played in the outer waters of the bay. A small inlet opening onto a sandy beach afforded a protected canoe landing, where a fierce wooden likeness of the war god Kū warned all that it was kapu for any but ali‘i to set foot there.
The royal compound at Hōnaunau was composed of a dozen or so hales with steep thatched roofs. A high wall of lava stones separated the compound from the pu‘uhonua, the place of refuge, where the bones of the great king Keawe, grandfather of Kalani‘ōpu‘u and Kamehameha’s father Keoua, reposed in the Hale ō Keawe Heiau. Kameha’s own grandfather, Kalanike’eaumoku, had erected the heiau. In those days, our people believed that Keawe’s powerful mana protected the ground there. There was no kapu on that side of the wall. Any person, regardless of status, could enter. And anyone who reached it—such as a kapu violator or a defeated warrior—could find sanctuary, expunction of their transgression or shame, and forgiveness when they returned home. That the pu‘uhonua at Hōnaunau was hallowed ground and inviolate was understood and respected by all on the Big Island. Perhaps that is why Kalani‘ōpu‘u was eager to muster his forces in its precincts. “He knew he would not be attacked there,” my father explained.
It was at Hōnaunau that the forces of Kalani‘ōpu‘u and Ke‘eaumoku converged. And it was at Hōnaunau that Kalani‘ōpu‘u and his beloved nephew Kamehameha were reunited at last.
Kamehameha and Kekūhaupi‘o had kept to footpaths mauka of the coast as they fled south from the Kohala District, avoiding the coastal villages and their many curious eyes. They foraged for food as they traveled, raiding patches of sweet potatoes and yams and picking bananas from the trees that grew on Mauna Loa’s lush flanks. Though they did not go hungry during their journey, neither did they once know the satisfaction of a full belly.
“E Kekū!” Kameha grumbled one evening, as he and Kekūhaupi‘o finished a meager meal of bananas and yams. “My belly is not happy with this poor food. If it is not satisfied soon, it may go makai to find something better.”
“E Kameha!” Kekūhaupi‘o rejoined. “When we reach Ke‘ei, your belly can have its fill. But until then, it will not be safe for us to go down to the coast, so tell your belly to be patient and stay mauka with us.”
“I am trying, Kekū,” Kamehameha sighed, “I am trying.” Even as he spoke, his stomach groaned in protest. Unfortunately for his belly, Kamehameha and Kekūhaupi‘o had precious little time to eat when at last they reached Ke‘ei.
They had just sat down to a meal of roast pig, poi, and baked yams when a young warrior rushed into the courtyard of Kekūhaupi‘o’s hale. Nearly breathless from running, he could barely speak. “Keawe‘ōpala comes!” he cried. “Keawe‘ōpala comes!”
“Keawe‘ōpala comes himself? Where is he now?” Kekūhaupi‘o demanded.
“He is at Ka‘awaloa with thousands of men,” the warrior panted.
“Then he is not yet too close,” said Kameha, who desperately wanted to slake his hunger. “We can stay here a little while longer.”
Ka‘awaloa was nearly opposite Ke‘ei on the north side of Kealakekua Bay. It was not far from Ke‘ei as a dolphin swims, but a strenuous climb to the high cliffs at the base of the bay’s great horseshoe made for a longer journey on foot.
“An advance guard precedes him,” the young man said. “They are already nearing the village.”
Kekūhaupi‘o was incredulous. “Keawe‘ōpala comes here with thousands of men? He comes all this distance from Kawaihae with an army to catch Kamehameha?”
“Oh no,” the warrior replied. “He comes with an army to catch Ke‘eaumoku.”
This was the first Kamehameha and Kekūhaupi‘o had heard of Ke‘eaumoku’s rebellion. “Ke‘eaumoku was driven into the sea,” the young warrior explained. “Keawe‘ōpala and his people have been chasing him down the coast ever since. Keawe‘ōpala means to destroy him when he comes ashore.”
“Where is Ke‘eaumoku now?” Kekūhaupi‘o asked.
“He has reached the bay at Kealakekua,” the warrior said. “He is making for Hōnaunau.”
“He is seeking sanctuary, no doubt,” said Kekūhaupi‘o. “And, Kameha, we must as well.”
Still regarding the repast laid out before them, Kamehameha hesitated.
“Now!” Kekūhaupi‘o commanded.
Kamehameha and Kekūhaupi‘o set off for Hōnaunau at a swift trot. Keawe‘ōpala’s vanguard entered Ke‘ei soon afterward. The soldiers did not notice the two fleeing figures. Their attention was fixed on the sea, where Ke‘eaumoku’s flotilla was just then drawing abreast of the village. They lined up along the shore, leaping about, screaming and waving their spears, daring Ke‘eaumoku and his people to land. Hearing the commotion, Kameha and Kekūhaupi‘o—still only a few hundred yards distant—stopped to watch. At about this time, Keawe‘ōpala himself reached Ke‘ei, accompanied by his personal guard and his kahuna nui, Ka‘akau. As he pushed through the village with his men, the mō‘ī’s eyes were on the hubbub at the shore, but his kahuna’s eyes were elsewhere.
“Look over there,” Ka‘akau exclaimed, pointing at the two distant on-lookers, “that big one there; it is almost certainly Kamehameha!”
Keawe‘ōpala turned and squinted his eyes. “I think you are right, Ka‘akau,” he said. Then he shouted to a score of warriors nearby, “See those two men there! Go after them at once and bring them to me!” The soldiers rushed off, the flaps of their malos whipping around them.
Kekūhaupi‘o saw them coming. “Run!” he cried. A desperate foot race now commenced.
The village of Ke‘ei is about four miles distant from Hōnaunau. A lava shelf overgrown with grasses and shrubs lies between them. The ground is uneven, and because of the thick ground cover, treacherous. Walking at a leisurely pace is not easy. Forced marching is difficult. Running can be hazardous. In those days, shoes and sandals were unknown among our people. As Kameha and Kekūhaupi‘o ran, jagged lava stones concealed by the grasses gashed their feet. They repeatedly stumbled in hidden depressions. Their pursuers suffered in like manner. But they were many and even though some might stumble and fall, there were always more to continue the chase. Kamehameha and Kekūhaupi‘o, on the other hand, could not afford a misstep.
It was Kameha who fell, landing hard on one knee as he fought to keep his balance. A sharp lava stone gashed his kneecap. As he struggled to his feet, one of his nearest pursuers rushed at him, waving a war club. This man was off balance and his swing lacked force. Kamehameha fended off the blow with his forearm, but he was knocked to his knees again. Standing over Kameha, the other man raised his arm for a second blow that was almost sure to incapacitate him. The blow never came. Kekūhaupi‘o charged him at full force, bowling him over. The club flew from the man’s hand and Kekūhaupi‘o was astride him before he could recover. Kekūhaupi‘o grasped the warrior’s head about the ears and twisted it sharply. Bones cracked. The man’s body went limp. “Get up! Get up!” Kekūhaupi‘o shouted. “They are coming!”
Slowly, Kamehameha rose to his feet. His arm ached where the war club had struck him and both his knees were bleeding. There was nowhere left for him and Kekūhaupi‘o to run. Their other pursuers had caught up with them and their only remaining escape route was the sea. Their opponents, all armed, formed a wide semicircle around them. Kekūhaupi‘o and Kamehameha had only one weapon between them, the war club that Kekūhaupi‘o had taken from the fallen warrior. Yet the others held back. “That is Kamehameha, the mover of the Naha Stone,” one murmured. “He did not drown after all,” said another. “Why do you run from us?” a third man asked. “The mō‘ī merely wants to see you.”
“The mō‘ī wants more than that. He tried to kill Kamehameha,” snapped Kekūhaupi‘o. “Let us go!”
“You’re coming with us, now!” the third man said, brandishing his war club. Still, he and his comrades hesitated.
It was not the reputation or spectacle of Kamehameha, who easily towered over every other man there, which kept them momentarily in check. Though Kameha was large and powerful, he had yet to be tested in battle. No, my father told me, it was their fear of Kekūhaupi‘o, the Big Island’s most celebrated warrior, that held them back. The body lying at his feet served as further warning. Slowly, warily, the warriors tightened their circle.
Standing shoulder-to-shoulder, Kamehameha and Kekūhaupi‘o faced their assailants. “You take this,” Kekūhaupi‘o said, handing the club to Kameha. “I do not need it.” The weapon nearly disappeared in Kamehameha’s big hand. Kekūhaupi‘o growled at the advancing warriors. “Who wishes to die next?” he asked.
The first of Ke‘eaumoku’s canoes had now drawn even with the spot where Kameha, Kekūhaupi‘o, and their pursuers stood. Ke‘eaumoku was in the lead canoe. Seeing the commotion on the shore, he had ordered his paddlers to steer closer to land. His boat and several others were now just a hundred yards or so from the rocky beach. “We must swim for it, Kekū!” Kamehameha shouted. He hurled the club at the nearest warrior, striking him square in the chest. The man toppled over, gasping for breath. Kameha turned, ran the few remaining yards to the water’s edge, and splashed into the surf. Kekūhaupi‘o followed close behind him. They discarded their malos as they ran. This happened so quickly that Keawe‘ōpala’s warriors scarcely had time to react before Kamehameha and his kahu had reached waist-deep water and dived into the waves. Like Kameha, Kekūhaupi‘o was a strong swimmer. Stripped to their bare skin, they soon outdistanced several warriors who had followed them into the water, but had failed to likewise remove their malos in their hurry.
Ke‘eaumoku could see Kameha and Kekūhaupi‘o swimming toward him, but he could not make out who they were. Nevertheless, he reasoned that anyone fleeing from Keawe‘ōpala’s people was bound to be an ally. “See those two in the water there!” he shouted. “We must help them!” His canoe veered sharply toward Kamehameha and Kekūhaupi‘o. Realizing that they were now in peril, Keawe‘ōpala’s warriors gave up the chase and swam back to shore.
As his canoe drew closer to the two figures bobbing in the swells, Ke‘eaumoku recognized them. “It is Kamehameha and Kekūhaupi‘o,” he exulted. Assisted by the canoe paddlers, Kameha and Kekūhaupi‘o clambered over the side of the nearest hull and joined Ke‘eaumoku on the war canoe’s central deck. They greeted him with hugs and loud wails.
“We go now to Pu‘uhonua o Hōnaunau,” Ke‘eaumoku said at last. “Keawe‘ōpala cannot follow us there.” As it turned out, they would have no need of refuge.
Keawe‘ōpala, who lived much of his life on the edge of anger, was furious. Ke‘eaumoku had escaped. Kamehameha had eluded his grasp. And now they were with Kalani‘ōpu‘u, who, his scouts told him, was encamped at Hōnaunau with many hundreds of warriors. He knew that the combined forces of Kalani‘ōpu‘u and Ke‘eaumoku most probably numbered several thousand or more. They would be a formidable match for his own army, which was now massing in and around the village of Ke‘ei. If only Ke‘eaumoku had not slipped away at Kiholo, he could be more confident of crushing Kalani‘ōpu‘u. If only his people had captured Kamehameha near Ke‘ei, he would now hold a valuable hostage. Kalani‘ōpu‘u would not dare attack him if he understood that his beloved nephew’s life would be forfeit. Keawe‘ōpala could then withdraw without dishonor and meet Kalani‘ōpu‘u in battle—as he knew he eventually must—at a time and place of his own choosing. Instead, his hand was forced. He must confront Kalani‘ōpu‘u now. Failure to do so would risk humiliation in the eyes of his subordinates. In that direction lay only further rebellion. No, he was the mō‘ī of the Big Island, and if he wanted to remain so, he had no choice. Keawe‘ōpala blamed his own people for this.
“They all failed me!” he railed at Ka‘akau. “They failed to catch Ke‘eaumoku! They let Kamehameha escape! Well, now they must fight, even if it costs them dearly!”
“Perhaps there is still an alternative to giving battle at this time, Lord,” soothed Ka‘akau, who understood that his mō‘ī’s bluster concealed his own dread of fighting on near-equal terms with his now-united foes.
“And what is that?” Keawe‘ōpala demanded.
“The kanapī has many limbs,” the kahuna replied, speaking of the poisonous Hawaiian centipede. “But if the head of the kanapī is cut off, then body and limbs die. We will cut off the hea
d.”
Keawe‘ōpala looked at Ka‘akau in puzzlement.
“We will slay Kalani‘ōpu‘u,” the priest explained, “and his army will melt away.”
Lilihae had followed Keawe‘ōpala and Ka‘akau to Ke‘ei. Still believing that a poison-weakened Kamehameha had drowned in the big waves off Kawaihae, he was determined to collect his payment for eliminating him. When Ka‘akau finally received news that the youth’s body had washed ashore, Lilihae could press the high priest to hand over the Makahiki tribute from the Lapakahi ahupua‘a at once. He was old, and did not want to wait for another turn of the seasons to claim his just due. When Ka‘akau finally sent for him at Ke‘ei, Lilihae was sure that he was being summoned to receive his reward. Instead, he was surprised to find the priest scowling at him.
“You failed, old one,” Ka‘akau said. “Kamehameha lives. He was seen here at Ke‘ei just today. He escaped from our people and he has fled to Hōnaunau with Ke‘eaumoku.”
“How is that possible?” Lilihae protested. “My sorcery was very powerful. No one, not even one as strong as Kamehameha, could have withstood it.”
“There was another whose own magic was evidently mightier still,” Ka‘akau replied. “Holo‘ae interfered with your ‘spell.’”
“Holo‘ae!” Lilihae sputtered indignantly. “What powers does that one have?”
“None, any longer,” Ka‘akau said with a grimace that encompassed both loathing and satisfaction. “He is dead. He will not trouble you anymore. Now I give you another chance to work your sorcery, and if you succeed this time, you shall have your reward.”
Once There Was Fire Page 14