Naihe was his uncle; Kamakaimoku was the great-grandmother both of Keopuolani and himself, and the king was his cousin. As a condition of peace he demanded the recall of the edicts against the tabu and the temples. As this could not be conceded, the ambassadors appealed to his relationship with themselves and the royal family; but he could not be moved. “We are proud of our blood,” he said to Keopuolani, “but who but the gods made kings of our ancestors?”
Finding that nothing could be effected, the ambassadors withdrew with tokens of mutual regret, and were safely and respectfully escorted beyond the rebel lines. The reports they allowed to be circulated on their return, that Kekuaokalani had refused to consider any terms of peace, and that they had narrowly escaped with their lives, were inventions employed to mislead and exasperate the royal army.
With the departure of the ambassadors Manono sought her husband to learn the results of the conference. The information that no agreement had been reached did not surprise her. For weeks past all the auguries had indicated blood, and the night before the alae had screamed in the palms behind her hut.
“Thank the gods for the omen!” said Kekuaokalani.
“But the voice of the alae is a presage of evil,” suggested Manono.
“Only to those who do evil,” replied the chief. “The fate of the gods, whose battles we fight, is shaped by themselves.”
“Have you no fear of the result?” inquired Manono.
“I fear nothing,” was the reply; “but the thought has sometimes come to me of late that the gods are reserving for Liholiho and his advisers a punishment greater than I may be able to inflict. Should that be so, I am obstructing with spears the path of their vengeance, and will be sacrificed.”
“The will of the gods be done!” said Manono, devoutly. “But, whatever may be the fate of Kekuaokalani, Manono will share it.”
“Brave Manono!” exclaimed the husband, with emotion. “If the gods so will it we will die together!”