FEW queens on thrones or in exile—indeed, few merely rich women can command such leisure as Hiwa might have had. She had no social functions, no social duties. Even the question of dress scarcely presented itself. Occasionally, on wet days, she put on a pau of tapa, and Aelani, when he grew to be a large boy, often wore a malo, or girdle, around his loins, and sometimes a kihei, or mantle, over his shoulders. Frequently, however, mother and child were arrayed more sumptuously than Solomon in all his glory, for, after the charming custom of their race, they made wreaths of fragrant dark-green maile and many-colored wild flowers, and decked each other from head to foot. But this was recreation, not work. The physical comforts of existence were at hand for the taking, and Hiwa might have spent her days, as many of her people do, lazily floating in the water or lounging in the shade.

On the contrary, she was never idle. She felt that the few years given her to prepare her son for his future work and station should be improved to the utmost, for, as soon as he were grown, she could be no more with him, but must pass from the altar of Ku to the gods from whom she came. She believed that a great moi should be a god among men by his attainments and qualities of mind, as well as by birth, and she was well qualified to instruct Aelani in all the learning and accomplishments of her age and nation, for there was no seclusion of women among Hawaiians, and she had seen and heard much both at court and in camp.

She taught him the national dances, hula-hula. They were extremely graceful, expressing all emotions and passions. Some were noble; some, according to our standards, were vile. She taught him the sports and the games of chance and skill, at which it was customary to play for high stakes. She taught him to sing and to play the ukeke, a rude guitar, which she made from bamboo and olona.

She spent much time in teaching him the ancient meles, the unwritten literature of the nation, its epic and romantic poems and love songs, perpetuated from generation to generation by men set apart for that purpose, for in her father’s reign—before a drunkard came to the throne—they were always chanted at feasts and at human sacrifices, and when the bones of great chiefs were hidden in caves, and she had learned them by heart.

Most carefully she taught him the etiquette of court, camp, and heiau, the observance due a moi, who might stand in his presence, who should remain kneeling, and who must lie prostrate with their faces in the dust. At the same time she strongly impressed upon him the firmness, self-control, dignity, and condescension which should grace a god among men.

She told him of the high chiefs and chiefesses, the great landed nobility who held their possessions of the moi, and of the lesser chiefs who held of the great ones, substantially according to the Feudal System of Western Europe in the Middle Ages.

As he grew old enough to understand something of the work that was set for him to do, she talked much about the great men of the kingdom, of their power, resources, traits and peculiarities, and of how he might most surely win them to himself. She knew them well, for it had been the wise policy of her father to keep them most of the time at court under his own watchful eyes. More than of any one else she talked about Kaanaana.

“He is Lord of Kohala, and a mighty chief,” she often said, “the greatest, noblest, bravest, and best in the land. He is your father, and I love him even as I love you, keike, and he loves me. When the time comes you will give him a token from me. Then he will proclaim you moi, and Ku will protect you both in the day of battle and give you the victory.”

She told him of the gods. “There are three great gods,” she said—“Kane, Ku, and Lono. Kane is greatest of the gods, the almighty father and creator of heaven and earth; but he sleeps through the ages, and gives no heed to what is done among gods and men, and, therefore, they do not heed him. Lono is so gentle and kind that men are not afraid of him, and so they forget him. Ku is active, masterful, fierce, and cruel, and delights in wars and human sacrifices, and bends all things to his will, and rules alike among gods and men; so we worship Ku. Wakea, our ancestor, is a great god, and, next to Ku, bears sway over heaven and earth; and the mois of his blood, whose bones have been hidden in caves, from the beginning down to Papaakahi, The Mighty, are also great gods. There are lesser gods—Kanaloa, Kane’s younger brother; Milu, God of the Lower World; Pele, the red-haired Goddess of Volcanoes; Kanehoalani, God of the Sky; Kanehulikoa, God of the Sea; Kukailimoke, God of War; Mokuhalii—whom we call Ukanipo—God of Sharks, and many others; and kupuas, or demi-gods, and kini akua, or elves. Ae keike! There are many gods, but there is no other god like Lono!”

“Tell me about him!” exclaimed Aelani.

“He came to us from heaven,” said Hiwa, “many, many generations ago, in the form and likeness of a man, and he lived on earth, and his mission was love. He hated tears and wars and human sacrifices. He told men and women to be kind to each other as they would have others kind to them. He taught the people many things which would have made them wise and happy if they had remembered and practised them; but they forgot his good words after he was gone, for he went away beyond the great oceans. He will come back to us some time, but not now, and meantime Ku rules gods and men by fear alone.”

Year after year, as they lay at noon under the shade of the great koa tree, or at night under the moon and the stars, Hiwa talked with Aelani about the rites and ceremonies of the priesthood, and the arts of kahunas, and the traditions of her people, about their customs and ways of living, about the birds and beasts and fishes, about the country she had seen, and the mountains and streams and ocean. Everything she knew that she thought might be useful to him when he should go out into the world she told him again and again, until all these things became fixed in his mind. She told him the story of her life and her love. But she said nothing to him of her sin against Ku, or of the time, so close at hand, when she must shed her own blood on Ku’s altar.

She also told him much about women, and he often wondered if they were very different from his mother, for he imagined that, as she alone of all living women was goddess-born, she must be more beautiful than any other. As he grew older, without knowing why it was so, he yearned to meet a woman.