It was a sultry afternoon, near the time of the annual feast of Lono, perhaps in 1172, that Kanipahu, after having despatched the business of the day, was reclining on a couch of mats in the cool shade of a palm-grove within the walled enclosure of the palace grounds—if, indeed, two large wooden and thatched buildings, each a hundred or more feet in length by forty in breadth, with eight or ten smaller houses among the banana growths in the rear, may be called a palace. The grounds were thickly studded with shade and fruit trees, embracing almost every variety of value found on the island. Here and there were shaded walks and vine-wreathed nooks in which rude seats had been constructed; and as the sentinels lounged lazily at the entrance, and the kahus of the king languidly administered to his wants, the scene was a picture of royal power and barbaric comfort peculiar to the Polynesian islands, but scarcely less imposing than the forms and architectural environments of the jarls and princes of northern and central Europe at that period. Each of the personal attendants of the king was of the lesser nobility, and his office was one of honor. Over the head of the drowsing sovereign the paakahili, or kahili-bearer, at brief intervals waved his tuft of painted plumes, while at a respectful distance stood the spittoon-bearer (ipakuha) and head steward (aipuupuu).
The king was suddenly aroused by a tumult at the outer gate. There was a sound of angry voices mingled with a clashing of spears, and immediately after a tall chief, clad in maro, feather cape and helmet, and bearing a stout ihe, or javelin, strode toward the royal mansion, followed by a number of excited chiefs and their retainers. Reaching the palace, the chief turned and faced his clamoring pursuers with a look of defiance. To shed blood there was an offence which no one was bold or reckless enough to commit, and, after one of the number had first been despatched to the king to ascertain his pleasure, the entire party of chiefs repaired to the royal presence, leaving their weapons behind in the hands of the guards who had hurried toward the scene of disturbance.
Type of Scenery—on the Road to Kilauea, Hawaii.
Bowing low before the king, who had risen to a sitting posture on his couch, the chiefs waited for him to break the silence. Slowly scanning his auditors, all but one of whom he knew and trusted, Kanipahu finally fixed his eyes upon the face of the stranger and quietly said:
“Your face is strange to me. Who are you, and what brings you here?”
“Great chief, I am Kamaiole, a chief of Kau,” was the reply, “and I came to Kohala in search of my sister, Iola, who was stolen and brought here about the close of the last season of rain.”
“Have you found her?” inquired the king.
“I have found her,” replied Kamaiole, bowing his head.
“Who took your sister away from Kau?” resumed the king.
“That man,” said Kamaiole, pointing to one of the chiefs present; “at least, so I presume, since he was seen in Kau about the time of her disappearance, and I found her in his possession here.”
The chief designated was a large and well-favored young man, with a palm-tree tattooed upon each of his muscular thighs, and wearing a number of gaudy ornaments around his neck. He was an alii koa, or military chief, without possessions and in the service of the king, to whom he was distantly related. Turning toward him, Kanipahu said:
“Speak, Waikuku, and answer the words of the chief of Kau.”
Glancing savagely at Kamaiole, Waikuku bowed to the king and replied:
“It is true that Iola came with me from Kau, where I went to visit the brother of my mother; but she came willingly, although I admit without the consent of Kamaiole.”
“Waikuku is of the blood of noble chiefs,” said the king in a tone of conciliation; “why not permit your sister, since it is her will, to remain with him in peace?”
“She may remain,” was Kamaiole’s grim reply.
“And well may she remain!” exclaimed Waikuku bitterly. “Iola is dead! To-day, even a few breaths past, her brutal brother found and with his own hand killed her!”
“Killed her?” repeated the king.
“Yes, killed her,” continued Waikuku; “and but that her cowardly murderer sought the protection of the royal enclosure, my spear would have tasted his blood!”
“Speak, and give good reason for this murder of the wife of Waikuku,” said the king, sternly addressing Kamaiole, “or, by great Lono! I will downward command your face!”
When a prisoner of war or malefactor was brought before an ancient Hawaiian king, if his order was “Downward the face!” the prisoner was taken away and slain at once by one of the royal executioners; but if it was “Upward the face!” his life was spared, either for complete pardon, slavery or sacrifice to the gods.
Giving little regard to the threat of the king, but burning with wrath at the insulting language of Waikuku, Kamaiole proudly answered:
“I am of the aha-alii of Hawaii. My war-canoes are red, and pennons float at their mast-tips. The blood of Nanaula is in my veins, and my ancestors were of the alii-nui—were kings here generations before Pili landed at Kohala or the Paumakuas blasted the shores of Hilo. With a rank befitting it was my purpose to mate my sister. But she secretly became the wife of a marauding puuku—possibly by force, probably by the charm of lies and the glitter of shells—and I followed and slew her, that her blood and mine might not be degraded by being mingled with that of Waikuku!”
“Puuku!” hissed Waikuku, enraged at the low rank contemptuously given him by Kamaiole, and making a hostile menace toward the speaker.
Kamaiole regarded Waikuku for a moment with a look of disdain, and then continued:
“The occupation of this Waikuku—this woman-stealer—is that of war, I have been informed. He boasted that his spear would have tasted the blood of Kamaiole had he not sought the protection of the royal grounds. I came here through no fear of his arm or the spears of his friends, but to explain to the king why I had shed blood within sight of the royal hale. But since he talks so bravely of blood and spears, I challenge him to make good his words with me beyond the palace walls. The matter is solely between us. I am prepared to answer to him in words of combat for what I have done to-day. Or if, as I suspect, he lacks the courage to give his warlike training a test so public, I will ward a spear with such of his friends, one by one, as may feel disposed to make his grievance theirs.”
The chiefs looked at each other in amazement at the broad challenge of Kamaiole, and the king seemed to be scarcely less astounded. But the proposal could not be deemed either unfair or unusual, since, according to the usage of the time, Kamaiole was answerable to Waikuku for the death of Iola.
The stinging remarks of the dauntless Kau chief left to Waikuku no pretext or excuse for declining the challenge, and the king somewhat reluctantly consented to a settlement of the matter by the arbitrament of single combat, with such weapons as might be mutually agreed upon.
Among the members of the royal household who witnessed this remarkable interview with the king was a chief of the old native line called Nanoa. Admiring the cool courage of Kamaiole, and feeling for him something of a sympathy of lineage, he proffered to stand his friend and adviser in the forthcoming encounter; and the arrangements finally made were that the hostile parties were to meet just at sunset in a grove immediately back of the palace enclosure. They were to be armed each with two spears and a javelin. The spears were first to be used when the combatants approached within twenty paces of each other. These being thrown without ending the battle, the parties were to advance to close encounter with their javelins, with the discretion