One Life Well and Truly Promised

by Richard D. Parker

  “The kauwã is mine now,” he demanded simply, his statement hitting Leilani like a punch. Ke’alohi was now a prisoner of war, a kauwã, and even if she somehow managed to save him from execution, he was lost to her. She was a member of the ruling caste in her tribe, the niece of King Keli’i no less, and it was strictly forbidden for her to marry a lowly kauwã. Before she knew what was happening tears filled her eyes and the jungle trail blurred. She fell back until Lukikina supported her and guided her along.

  “What is wrong with you?” Her younger sister asked, truly puzzled. Leilani was not the type to swoon and moon over a handsome face. She’d spurned all would be suitors up to now. Even Ali’ikai, her cousin and seemingly perfect match, endured rejection from the lovely Leilani. It was a blow Ali’ikai had yet to get over, even though Lukikina was anxious to take her sister’s place and heal his wounded heart.

  Lukikina studied the captured stranger, true he was very handsome…and large…and swift and powerful. For a time on the beach Lukikina feared he would crush the Hewa warriors and kill Ali’ikai, but he fell in the end and was now kauwã, and thus beneath them.

  “If father will listen, you may save him,” Lukikina said truthfully, answering her sister’s silence, “but you can never have him. You’d be sacrificed to Tane as well. Do you want the trees?”

  Leilani said nothing.

  “Please sister, help me understand,” Lukikina pleaded and then waited and waited some more. Just when she thought her sister would remain quiet, she suddenly spoke.

  “I cannot explain it,” Leilani whispered. She took ahold of her sister’s arm and purposefully slowed her pace, dropping back from the group of men.

  “He’s for me,” she continued once she was sure they were out of earshot. “Ke’alohi is the one I’ve waited for, the reason I cast aside so many men, the reason I spurned your beloved Ali’ikai.”

  Lukikina’s eyes widened, but she said nothing.

  “The god Tangaroa has sent Ke’alohi here to me and I will not give him up willingly to Tane, no matter Ali’ikai’s position,” Leilani spat.

  “But…but his is kauwã,” she repeated, as if this explained all.

  “Only because Ali’ikai made him so, but not before I named him hoaloha and malihini,” which meant friend and visitor.

  Lukikina remained quiet. It was possible King Keli’i would decide in favor of Leilani’s position, but after the death of Heketoro and the fight on the beach she thought it unlikely, especially with Ali’ikai, the tribe’s fiercest warrior, arguing against such a move.

  The remainder of the trip was spent in silence. When they finally entered the outskirts of the village they were met with frenzied excitement, and then howls of grief as Ali’ikai’s parents spotted their youngest son lying prone on the litter.

  The Hewa people immediately fell on Ke’alohi, hitting and kicking, pinching and pulling his hair, as he was hauled into the central circle outside the King’s hut. Leilani rushed forward and tried to protect him, shouting that he was not Kaluli but instead a malihini from beyond the island, but no one listened and she was easily brushed aside.

  “Help me!” Leilani shouted to her sister, but Lukikina hung back, afraid she would be hurt by the crowd of angry people.

  She shook her head. “Only he can help you now,” she replied and pointed to their uncle King Keli’i, who stood proudly outside the doorway to his hut.

  “Makua Kãne! Makua Kãne!” Uncle! Uncle! Leilani shouted over the noise of the crowd and rushed to Keli’i’s side. “Lukikina and I spotted the strangers on the beach. They are not Kaluli! They were tossed onto our island by Tangaroa and I named them hoaloha before Ali’ikai and the others came and caused trouble.” Leilani explained in a rush. Keli’i frowned, though he had only caught part of what she said. He did recognize hoaloha and the god Tangaroa however, and so held up his hands for quiet. In their frenzy however, the Hewa people failed to spot the signal for calm and continued to beat the helpless Ke’alohi. Keli’i waited patiently, for he was King and would not shout. Such an act was for common people and beneath his dignity. Leilani however, had no such compulsion, and so tried to get the people’s attention.

  Lukikina was as puzzled by her sister’s behavior as anyone else, but the sight of Leilani in the arms of the stranger came back to her then. Deep inside, she realized her sister and the stranger were sharing something beautiful and very powerful, a mystical moment that was tragically interrupted by Ali’ikai and his men. With a fair amount of dread, Lukikina realized that the scene on the beach would haunt her for the rest of her life. It was a moment of new love destroyed by violence, and her heart ached for its loss. Despite her desire for Ali’ikai, which had not waned, she boldly stepped forward and added her voice to her sister’s.

  Eventually some in the crowd heard their call and heeded their king for quiet. As some voices died, others followed suit, until finally the entire village was waiting expectantly.

  “Why are you attacking the stranger that Leilani has named hoaloha?” The fat, wizened leader asked the crowd as Ali’ikai angrily stepped forward.

  “He is no hoaloha! He killed Heketoro and would have killed us all,” Ali’ikai argued loudly, clearly fuming.

  The King frowned and turned back to Leilani. “Is this true? Is Heketoro dead?” Keli’i asked and felt a wave of sadness. Heketoro was young, but had much promise. It was believed by some that he would someday surpass even his brother’s skill as a warrior, but now that was not to be.

  “Yes, it’s true,” Leilani began and the crowd immediately erupted, but she pressed on, trying to explain, though most was lost in the din of the crowd, “but not before Heketoro killed his friend Io’lana, who lay wounded on the beach!”

  Ke’alohi, who was only semi-conscious at this point, was dimly aware of Leilani’s voice, but he understood nothing. He was just thankful that the endless attacks had stopped.

  The King remained quiet for a time; as if pondering the problem, but in truth, he had already made up his mind. The stranger must be sacrificed for the good of Heketoro’s soul. If he was welcomed now as hoaloha it would cast a bad light on their village, and would likely lead to Heketoro haunting and cursing the living for years to come. No, the stranger had to die, but a king must not appear to be hasty or rash, and so Keli’i waited with a circumspect expression placed firmly on his face. Finally, just as the crowd was growing restless, his eyes cleared and he raised his arms once more. A hush fell.

  “I am sorry kaikamahine Leilani,” he began, and to his surprise his niece began to wail like one stricken. He ignored the shocking display and continued on with practiced dignity. “The stranger may indeed have been sent to us as hoaloha, but the death of Heketoro demands a sacrifice.”

  Leilani’s wailing grew louder as the crowd shouted for her to be quiet. Keli’i though puzzled, continued to ignore her anguish, and pressed on.

  “My decision is that on Heketoro’s burial day, three days hence, the stranger will be given to the god Tane and the trees. His death will guide our beloved Heke on his way to the true homeland.”

  Leilani howled and pulled at her hair as she fell to her knees, completely missing the look of confused pity from her king. The crowd murmured anxiously, some wondering if the beautiful Leilani had lost her wits, or worse was possessed by some powerful demon. Lukikina, however, made her way to her sister’s side, greatly saddened and confused by the powerful emotional display. Still, Leilani was clearly hurting, though the stranger’s death was probably for the best.

  After a time, Lukikina and their mother, managed to calm Leilani, pull her to her feet, and lead her home. After all, it was their duty to stand vigil over Heketoro’s body, since he was a close and respected relative.

  ♀

  Leilani spent the next three days kneeling quietly beside the body of her cousin. Her behavior was exemplary. She did not speak and rarely took breaks from her vigil, which showed great respect to everyone in Heketoro’s family, including Ali’
ikai. But truthfully, Leilani did not care. The peace of the funeral watch was exactly what she desired, and she was only dimly aware of the comings and goings of her female companions.

  Ke’alohi filled her thoughts, and her mind went over their brief meeting again and again and again. She was helpless to stop it. She was more convinced than ever that he was the man for her. The gods had led him to her, and the gods were now taking him away. She would have cursed the gods, but her bravery did not extend that far, so she remained quiet and played out her time on the beach with Ke’alohi over and over again.

  When the day of the funeral finally arrived however, Leilani suddenly came to life. She knew she should do something more on Ke’alohi’s behalf, but she had no idea what. To visit or speak to Ke’alohi would be a great insult to Heketoro, his family and the King. The King’s judgment was final, and the King had spoken. The King was the tribe’s direct link to the gods, and he was never wrong where they were concerned. Leilani had little doubt that Tane, the god of the forest, wanted Ke’alohi killed, but she was not at all sure that it was the will of Tangoroa, the god of the seas. Unfortunately for Ke’alohi, it was the god Tane that ruled the Hewa.

  Heketoro was laid out in a large clearing near the top of the highest hill. His litter was filled with fruits and flowers of all kinds. The ceremony would take place near the eastern edge of the burial grounds, right at the edge of the forest.

  The morning passed quickly as the entire village came out to bid farewell to the deceased. Most addressed Heketoro’s spirit a bit fearfully, speaking of the things they loved about him. Some told amusing stories, and a few of the brave even complained about his various faults. His own mother even criticized her son’s lazy nature as a child, but she also spoke lovingly of his many excellent traits, including his courage and determination.

  When finally it was Leilani’s turn, she spoke softly, telling the story of how as a child, Heketoro would constantly follow her about and leave the choicest fruits and nuts in special places for her to find. He was four years younger so his devotion and attention were merely annoyances to Leilani, but she did enjoy the fruit. It struck her then that Heketoro’s rash action on the beach was a reflection of his love for her. The unjust and utter randomness of love suddenly overwhelmed her and she stopped mid-sentence, too overcome with melancholy to continue. She blinked back tears and stepped away, only to be taken into a loving embrace by Heketoro’s mother, and then by her sister and best friend, Lukikina.

  After the entire village had come forward to have their say, the drums sounded and the prisoner was brought out. To Leilani’s eyes, Ke’alohi seemed to be lucid, but he was still dirty and covered with dried blood and bruises. He hardly struggled as a group of men tied his arms and legs to the bowed trunks of two young, strong trees. It had taken over a dozen warriors to pull the tops of the tall trees down to ground level, where they were secured in the shape of an “X” until the coming sacrifice.

  Once tied, Ke’alohi searched the crowd, trying to find Leilani, for she was all he’d thought about while imprisoned. He failed to find her however, and his eyes went blank to the proceedings around him. Ke’alohi watched the gulls glide on the winds overhead as the King of the Hewa stepped forward. Ignored by the prisoner, he recited the words that would send Heketoro’s spirit on its way, releasing the young warrior from his earthbound prison, and greatly reducing the possibility of possession.

  When he was finished, the surrounding crowd went quiet, even the birds fell still in expectation. Ke’alohi ignored the change in the atmosphere, and continued to gaze up into the sky, as if suddenly fascinated by all the activity taking place above his head. He didn’t even look down when two burly warriors armed with stone axes stepped forward and waited patiently for the signal from their King.

  “Tahi…” Keli’i began and raised his arm. “Rua…” he continued, but was interrupted before he could hit three.

  “Ke’alohi! Ke’alohi!” Leilani suddenly screamed at nearly the top of her lungs. Ke’alohi pulled his eyes from the sky and quickly scanned the crowd. After a long moment his eyes found hers and he smiled. They gazed hungrily at one another for a long moment, both filled with an unexplained love.

  “Toru!” Keli’i shouted and dropped his arm down in an arc. The warriors swung their axes at nearly the same time, neatly slicing through the ropes that held the trees. Ke’alohi continued to stare into Leilani’s eyes for what seemed an eternity before suddenly he began to rise and twist. Without a sound, his body was ripped apart as the tops of the trees recoiled quickly away from one another.

  Ke’alohi’s head and most of his chest went with his right arm and left leg, while his other limbs streaked off in the opposite direction. Most of his innards shot nearly straight up into the sky, as if trying to join the gulls overhead. They lost momentum before reaching the heavens however, and fell back to earth, landing just to the right of center on the sacrificial platform.

  The crowd cheered loudly, for it was considered very good fortune for the remains to fall straight down rather than fling to the left or right. The entire village was happy and excited about the excellent execution, save for Leilani, who desperately tried to find Ke’alohi’s eyes, which were now hidden in the tops of the trees.

  Lukikina rushed to her sister’s side. She was the only one present who realized the incredible love that Leilani felt, but of course there was no way to heal such a hurt. Time and distance were the only things that could mend a heart, but Lukikina held Leilani close just the same.

  As the years passed, time did heal Leilani’s wounds. She slowly recovered and even married happily. The memory of Ke’alohi, while it never completely vanished, dimmed considerably after she had her first son…and then a second…and then three daughters. She hadn’t thought of Ke’alohi for years, and then on the night her first grandchild was born, he visited in a vivid dream.

  She was strolling on the beach and she was young again…gloriously young. Her body was lithe, flexible and strong once more, and she laughed aloud as she spun around in the sunshine, relishing the feel of it on her skin. And then quite suddenly she was not alone. She whipped around and there he was…Ke’alohi, tall and strong in all his glory. He smiled down at her and before Leilani knew what was happening she launched her new young body into his arms and he swung her around, both laughing now.

  “I’ve missed you so,” Ke’alohi said in a different voice than she remembered from their long ago encounter.

  “And I you Tunde,” she answered happily, and they touched their foreheads and noses gently together.

  They made love under the blazing sun, but neither the day nor the sand was hot. Everything had a misty quality found only in one’s dreams, and when they were finished they held one another contentedly and dozed quietly in the late afternoon sun. It was a perfect dream, of a perfect afternoon. However, when Leilani woke from her deep slumber and found herself back in her old and stiff body, she felt a moment of uneasiness.

  Her dream was of Ke’alohi…of that she was sure, but as she struggled to remember the dissipating details, one strange fact remained very clear. In her dream Ke’alohi was Ke’alohi. He had the same body, the same bright friendly eyes, and the same gentle smile. It was Ke’alohi, just as she remembered him from that long ago day …strange then, that in her dream, his name was Akintunde.

  Encounter Three

  Chapter Eight

  Boudicca and the dead boy

  44 A.D.

  Dew formed on the hair of the dead, sparkling brightly in the early morning sun, lighting the field with thousands of twinkling points of light that blinked on and off as they rode closer. Each wet tip glistened beautifully as if trying to draw attention away from the host of flat, lifeless eyes that stared out at nothing.

  “Ho!” Héafodmann Cadeyrn said softly and held up his right arm. He and his guard spent several long moments surveying the small meadow from the relative safety of the tree line. Everything was eerily quiet. The crows had n
ot yet descended on the thirty or so bodies that lay strewn amongst the vibrant spring wildflowers.

  Cadeyrn whistled sharply and then nodded to a pair of his outriders. The men caught his eye and immediately spurred their ponies forward. One headed toward the southern end of the meadow, while the other veered north.

  Boudicca, the lone female in the party, watched the two men pick their way carefully through the dead. She was nervous and excited. She’d spent the last four years studying with a host of Iceni weapons, for it was not the Celtic way to raise meek and soft-willed women. This however, was her first battlefield…or at least what was left of it.

  Boudicca, who was slated to be Queen of the Iceni, was expected to excel in the warrior ways of the tribe…and she did. At just fourteen, she was already a large girl, taller than most in her entourage, but even so she was not yet considered a woman. She remained quiet as she studied the surrounding meadow, glancing every so often at the Héafodmann, or Captain of the guard, in an attempt to discern what he made of the find. Obviously a battle of sorts had taken place not long ago, and from the looks of it the Rỏmảniscs had left no survivors.

  As they watched, Saenuvax, the man to the north, dismounted briefly and inspected a number of the dead before climbing back on his pony. The scouts quickly made their way across the relatively small meadow before disappearing into the woods beyond. A quarter of an hour later they reappeared after circling around the perimeter.

  “Trinovantes,” Saenuvax said simply, referring to the tribe that dominated the lands south of the Iceni.

  Drest, the other scout, nodded in agreement. “Just a’fore dawn probably, no more’n a few hours ago. Blood still fresh,” he explained.

  Cadeyrn grunted. “The crows tell us as much,” he replied and looked up into an empty blue sky. “Any sign of the Rỏmảniscs?”