THE GODS COME TO LOHIAU'S FEAST
Under the direction of Kahua-nui--the woman to whom belonged the
executive mind--proclamation was made throughout the land, in the
name of Lohiau, commanding all the people to collect the necessary
food and material in preparation for a great feast, that they might
celebrate properly Lohiau's return to life.
It was to be an occasion of unparalleled interest and importance:
a chief, famed for his manly beauty and popular talents, rescued from
the grave; the magician who had accomplished this marvel, a woman of
surpassing beauty; an old-time feast, with its lavish profusion; the
hula, with its lyric and epic thrills: a combination of attractions
that appealed to every taste, whether of sage, epicure, frivolous
dilettante or dull-witted peasant, it was sure to be the event of a
lifetime. All were invited and all came.
The halau in which the people assembled was a temple of Flora, or
rather of her Polynesian sister Láka. At the request of Hiiaka, whose
every wish was law, one half of the hall was screened off by a rustic
partition as a special feasting hall for the gods. "My relatives,"
said Hiiaka, "are numerous."
In this part of the halau were laid the sacrificial viands for the
supply of an immense host. Having commanded silence, Hiaaka, after
the manner of prayer, invited the attendance of the gods. A hush
fell upon the assembly; the air was stirred by the fanning of many
wings. No speech, no human voice, only the gentle clash of wooden
dishes, the rustle of leaves, the gurgle of deep potations and the
subdued sounds of gustation came from the place into which no human
foot or eye dared intrude. At the conclusion of the affair, when
Hiiaka, in priestly fashion, had pronounced the absolving word noa
and the stewards were again at liberty to enter the precinct where
the immortals had just now celebrated their symposium, it seemed,
at first glance, as if nothing had been touched. The leafy bundles of
fish and fowl and meat remained unopened, but they proved to be empty;
the coconuts, unbroken, were yet devoid of meat; the bananas were found
to be but hollow skins. The substance, the essence, had been filched
away by some inscrutable power. This was the ai inoino--consumption
to the last morsel--practiced by the gods.
It was a solemn affair, after all, this parting feast, at which,
in spite of the babel of voices, weighty affairs had to be
settled. Malae-ha'a-koa published the fact that the beautiful woman
who sat in their mist was Hiiaka, the sister of Pele; that her art
had captured the unhappy flitting ghost of Lohiau, restored it to its
renovated and matchless form and that, in fulfillment of her errand,
she was about to lead him away with her to be the bed-mate of the
goddess who ruled the volcano.
Paoa--he whose tempestuous nature had not long ago sworn vengeance
against the author of Lohiau's taking-off--now spoke up and declared
his purpose to go with his master on this his new and strange
adventure. Lohiau restrained him.
"I go with these two women. If I die--so be it--'twere a glorious
end,--with these two who rescued me from the grave and brought me
back to the delights of your society. If I live and make my abode on
Hawaii, it will be for you to come and share the blessings of my new
home." Then, addressing himself specially to Paoa, "You will remain
here, as my deputy, ruling over the land. If my adventure fares
well, I will come and fetch you--if ... ill, your coming would not
advantage.... You shall stay here."