If Thou Shouldst Never See My Face Again,
Part 2
The elegant room was filled with sunlight and the smell of fresh paint and turpentine. Most of the furniture had been cleared so that an enormous canvas could be set up to work. The artist, young and powerfully built, yelled impatiently at Duke.
"This light won’t last forever!" he exclaimed, his voice richly colored by a British accent. "Please don’t tell me you can’t take your place, Sergeant. We’ll lose the rest of the whole day! And who knows when the sun will come back out again in this god-forsaken burg!"
Duke blinked. Who was this jerk? Oh, yeah, Holo Brice, the wonder boy artist.
Princess Lili’uokalani smiled graciously and touched his arm. "Are you quite all right, Sergeant?" she repeated. "You looked as if you felt quite faint."
"Must have been something I ate," Duke mumbled. He was disquietingly aware that something was wrong, that he’d somehow passed out for a few seconds. What was it again? Something about a missing painting? But the painting was right here, and it wasn’t even finished yet. And it never would be, at the rate this joker worked.
In fact, Duke was sure his boss, Chief Abner Paki, would be unhappy when he learned how long the work was taking. To commemorate the eighteenth birthday of Lili’uokalani, Paki had commissioned a portrait of himself with his adopted daughter. Being far too busy to waste his time actually posing for the work, however, he’d asked the royal guard for a substitute to pose for him. The chief would have his own face painted in later.
It wasn’t much of an assignment, but what could he do? If it was important to the chief, it was important to him. It was all in a day’s work for Sergeant Duke Lukela of the King’s Royal Guards.
***
"I’m just fine," Duke repeated, and resumed his place behind the Princess. The sunlight streamed through the open window and drenched the room in warm, clear light. It really was a beautiful day. Through the window, Duke could see young women playing croquet on the lawn. In their flowing white summer dresses, they looked like so many flowers. Some of his fellow guards chatted together under a spreading banyan, taking it easy on the unusual sunny Hilo day.
"If it’s not too terribly much trouble, Sergeant, would you mind looking this way?" Holo Brice demanded. "I need to get the angle just right."
Duke bristled inwardly. Though he knew the arrogant young man was just showing off for the princess, Duke longed to put him in his place. But Brice was some kind of royalty, the son of a British merchant and a Kauai princess. Technically, that gave him the right to push around someone of lower rank.
That didn’t stop Duke from resenting it. Though not of royal blood, Duke, like most of the royal guards, was from a chiefly family, further up the Hamakua coast at the village of Honomu. Moreover, he was inclined by both training and temperament to give the boy a thorough ass-kicking. But he couldn’t – at least not in front of the princess.
To Duke’s surprise, though, he realized he didn’t need to. The princess turned her head slightly and gave Duke an understanding look. The young woman wasn’t any more impressed with Brice than he was.
She turned back to the artist and delicately unfolded a large Japanese fan. Without a word, she began to fan her face with it. Duke could see that the new element in the composition annoyed the artist. Now, it was his turn to have to keep silent.
Duke wished a little of the princess’s breeze would carry back to him. The air was heavy and humid, and he was sweating in his wool uniform. It made him long for the old days, before the missionaries came, when everyone ran around in as little clothing as possible.
"Sergeant Lukela," the princess said. "How are you feeling?"
"I’m just fine, your highness," Duke assured her.
"You gave us a scare," she said.
"I’m sorry, your highness."
"I know—maybe you just don’t like having your picture painted," Lili’u continued lightly.
"I don’t know about that, your highness," Duke said. "It won’t really be my picture. It’ll be your father’s."
The princess laughed. Duke expected the sound to be light and girlish, but instead it was deep and throaty. And he couldn’t help but notice that the exquisite, finely detailed Parisian dress didn’t completely conceal a strong, muscular build. There was a lot of woman coming of age in this girl.
"Sergeant Lukela, my father must be a foot taller than you and weighs over 300 pounds. Believe me, it will be your picture." She laughed again and fanned herself vigorously.
Should have picked Kono for this assignment, Duke thought. No sooner had he had the thought than it slipped away. Who’s Kono? "I wonder why he chose me, ma’am."
"Wishful thinking, perhaps," the princess said teasingly. "He wishes he looked like you."
Duke realized that the princess was flirting with him. He knew better than to take it seriously. He’d always had the kind of looks that women liked, and was flattered that even at his age, he still got some notice. But the princess was young enough to be his daughter. Maybe she was just trying to annoy Brice again. Was Brice the one she was really flirting with?
"Mahalo," Duke said modestly.
"Make conversation with me, Sergeant," the princess commanded. "I’m hot and horribly bored." She shot the artist a look to make sure he had heard her. "Mr. Brice doesn’t like to talk while he’s working. And he’s always working."
Now Duke was sure of it. There was something going on between the princess and Brice. Whether it was mutual interest, mutual dislike, or something still teetering between the two, he wasn’t sure. But both were acutely aware of the other’s presence.
"Yes, ma’am. Are you happy to be done with your education, ma’am?" Duke asked her.
"I’m done with the royal school," Lili’u shot back. "But a lady of my station is never done with her education. I believe learning should be life-long. Wouldn’t you agree, Sergeant?"
"Oh, yes, ma’am," Duke said. "Especially a lady who will help rule Hawaii one day."
"That all depends on what our Lord has in mind," she said. That reminded Duke that there was another aspect to the young woman’s character. Chief Paki held to the old ways, but he had made sure that his daughter was instructed in the Christian faith. The ever-practical chief believed the instruction was for informational purposes only, but from what Duke had heard, it hadn’t gone quite the way he had planned. Lili’u had developed a deep faith in the Christian God and his son, Jesus Christ.
"I’m sure that you will be the Queen one day, ma’am," Duke said. "And I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful Queen."
"You are too kind, Sergeant," she teased him. "Perhaps you can be head of my Royal Guards, and keep me safe from any harm. I heard from my father that you were a great warrior in the old days."
"I’d sure do my best, ma’am," Duke replied.
"I must ask for silence, your highness," Brice said tersely. "I cannot paint your face if you keep changing expressions."
The princess’s eyes flashed, and Duke thought he might be about to see a display of temper. But she confounded him. Instead, she gave Brice a big grin. "How about this expression, then?"
Duke actually laughed out loud to see such a comical expression on her face, and the shock and aggravation on Brice’s.
"Fine!" Brice said, totally exasperated. "You know, Princess, you need to travel from these islands to London and Paris, as I have. Maybe if you get a real education, you'll find out that there are some people who appreciate a real artist and what he does."
"Are there, Mr. Brice? I simply must meet one of those real artists one of these days," the princess said. "Mahalo for bringing the matter to my attention." Then she laughed, gathered up her skirt, and swept from the room.
***
Brice pointed after the princess, gaping. He turned to Duke. "Get her back!" he ordered. "We’ve a lot more work to get done today."
"Get her back yourself," Duke snapped, at last able to take himself off the leash. "Maybe you oughta learn to say please, sonny boy. Whatever they taught you in Paris and London, it sure wasn’t how to treat a lady."
Brice’s face darkened. "You’ll do what I tell you to do, and like it, I think."
"Why don’t you just cool it?" Duke suggested. "You’d make a lot more progress all the way around."
"A few years back I could have had your head for talking to me that way," Brice shot back.
"This ain’t a few years back," Duke replied. "You want me to treat you like a prince, try acting like one. I work for Chief Paki, not you."
The young man’s face turned purple. Duke said, "Keep your shirt on. I’ll talk to the princess." Before Brice could erupt into further verbal histrionics, Duke charged out the door in search of Lili’u.
Christ, I hope I was never that dumb, Duke thought to himself. He had always found that humility was a key ingredient for success with women. Sure, women liked it if you showed off a bit in surfing or hula, and liked it even more if you were a big success in the eyes of the world. But if you thought that gave you the right to boss them around at home – well, then, God help you, kid.
Duke heard a man’s voice singing down the hall. Going towards the voice, he heard a rich, throaty female voice join in. The princess. Then a boy’s voice joined them, and another girl. A thrill ran down Duke’s spine, and he lingered in the hall for a few moments, just listening. Everyone listened when the Sacred Ones lifted their voices and sang.
Duke bowed his head for a moment, suddenly missing his own children terribly. And his adorable wahine. The lovely voices of the young people just made the ache worse. All of them, left behind forever on the family land in Honomu….
Duke shook himself. It didn’t do any good to think about it.
He rounded the corner and stood respectfully in the doorway, enjoying the sight of the youngsters gathered around the piano. Some of the guards got confused keeping track of all the teenagers in the royal family, but being a father himself, Duke didn’t have any trouble. Princess Lili’u had her arm around her adopted sister, Princess Bernice. While Bernice resembled Lili’u in face and figure, there was a big contrast in personality. Where Lili’u was outgoing and assertive, Bernice was quiet and scholarly.
Seated at the piano bench was the oldest child, Prince David Kalakaua. At age 22, David already had his man’s vices—drinking, gambling, and staying up late. He had also become a man in the way he applied his keen intelligence to learning about the issues facing the Hawaiian kingdom. If the Lord had in mind for David to become Hawaii’s monarch one day, Duke suspected the jovial prince would be ready.
With his hands on his brother’s shoulders, Prince William, just 15, was taking the leading part in the song. Though he sounded like an angel, Duke thought that of all the youngsters, William was the most in need of a firm hand. He had the fun-loving nature and musical talent of the others, but somehow he lacked their self-confidence and determination. More worrisome, he was already trying to keep up with his big brother—drink by drink.
Privately, Duke thought William could benefit from a couple of years out at Honomu, doing some work around a real farm and learning how to behave from some real old-time kupuna—grandparents—instead of playing around the estate in Hilo and the royal school. That was how Duke had been raised, with two hands – one for discipline and the other one for aloha.
Duke sighed. And look how great I turned out, he reminded himself. A fifty-year-old guard, with no more important assignment than to pose for a picture of somebody else.
As the song lifted to a climax of harmony, Duke became aware of a presence at his side. He glanced over. It was Holo Brice. Like himself, Brice was listening to the music. For a moment, Duke thought Brice looked almost wistful.
"Why don’t you join them?" Duke whispered.
Brice’s expression tightened with anger. "I will—one of these days."
***
They managed to get in another hour of posing before a typical Hilo cloudburst darkened the afternoon and ruined the light Brice needed to paint. The princess retired to rest before dinner, Brice grumblingly put his brushes away, and Duke looked forward to finally getting a chance to grab some kau-kau and coffee.
He ran out to the cookhouse where most of the men took their meals, and was gratified to see the Chinese cook still at work.
"Hey, bruddah," the cook greeted him. "Long time no smell."
"No kidding!" Duke said, helping himself to a big bowl of fish stew and another of poi. "This assignment is the pits. I’ve gotta stand there all day while Mr. Big Stuff paints the princess’s portrait."
The cook looked at him shrewdly. "I hear that’s not all he’s doing with the princess."
"No way!" Duke assured him. "I was with them all day, and the princess can’t stand him. Everything he does just makes it worse. She’s got a lot of class, and bruddah, that guy might be Kauai’s idea of an ali’i, but he sure ain’t mine."
Duke slung his leg over a chair and sat down at a rickety wooden table at the cookshack. The boys at the Lyman boarding school made a lot of the furniture that they used around the royal residence. Duke guessed the table must come from their beginner’s class. He ate his supper while the cook cleaned up around the shack. The stew tasted awful, but Duke didn’t care. He just wanted to get full. Besides, even if it had been great, it wouldn’t have stopped him from missing his wife’s cooking. Or her touch.
"So, what’d you hear," Duke asked between mouthfuls, "about Brice and the princess?"
The cook shrugged. "Just what the house servants say – that they saw him hanging around her door late at night. Sounds like hanky-panky."
Duke frowned. "The princess isn’t the type!"
The cook laughed. "Is the princess a woman?"
"Yeah, but—a proper one. Sounds like wishful thinking on Brice’s part to me. And if Chief Paki catches anybody spreading rumors about his daughters, he’ll tan their hides." Duke shook his head. The princess’s love life wasn’t any of his business, really—but the rumor worried him, somehow. Brice had an anger and bitterness in him unusual in such a young man. Duke doubted a sheltered young woman like the princess even recognized it, let alone saw it as a potential threat to herself.
"If you say so, bruddah," the cook said. "My experience is, good girls are the same behind closed doors as bad girls."
"You been behind any closed doors lately?" Duke grinned.
The cook laughed. "Sure. Different girl every night, same as you. So you off duty for tonight? Me and some of the boys are getting together outside the guards’ barracks for a card game after I clean up here. Should be good fun." The cook reached under the counter and showed Duke a jar of oke – homebrewed pineapple wine. "What’cha say? Can you make it?"
Duke brought his bowls over to the sink and slipped them into the soapy water. "Be prepared to lose," he smiled. "I’ll go get out of this monkey suit and meet you guys there."
"OK!" the cook said. "Bring plenty of money!"
"Bring plenty of oke!" Duke shot back, and headed back out into the humid evening.
***
He had planned to go straight to the barracks and change into comfortable clothes, grab some cigars, and meet his buddies for the card game. After all, he had earned it. It had been a long, boring, and frustrating day. And though his friends didn’t help much with the loneliness—not really—at least they distracted him from it, and Duke was grateful for that.
But first, he decided to take one more walk up to the royal residence for the evening. Maybe have a little chat with the night watch, in which he might casually mention to keep an eye out for prowlers around the princess’s room. Something like that.
Outside the royal residence, the torches blazed with their ancient vigilance. Inside, lamplight softly glowed in the halls. He heard china clinking softly in the dining room. The family would be having formal dinner soon.
Four men were standing in the hall, smoking Havanas and talking. Duke’s boss, Chief Abner Paki, towered over the others. But for all his imposing size, Duke couldn’t help but notice that Paki looked weary. More alarming, the enormous chief had lost weight. The chief was one of those Hawaiians who looked wonderfully imposing in a malo but like a stuffed sausage in haole clothes. But even in the dim light, Duke could see that the chief’s collar was loose. His ashen appearance was all the most striking next to the youthful vigor of Prince David at his side.
The other two men were Americans. Duke recognized Charles Bishop. Short, with curly hair and blue eyes, the banker radiated a paradoxical combination of boyish charm and hard-boiled ruthlessness. Bishop was one of the new breed of immigrants to Duke’s homeland—less interested in Almighty God than in the Almighty Dollar.
It turned out Bishop’s companion was of a similar bent. "Chief Paki," Bishop barked in his brash American way, "Prince David, I’d like you to meet John Dominis. He’s in the shipping business and very excited about the possibilities here in the islands."
Dominis shook hands with Paki and Kalakaua. Physically, he was a contrast to Bishop – tall, with dark hair, a lean, craggy face, and penetrating dark blue eyes. And while Bishop was lively, with an easy smile and a quick wit, Dominis didn’t look as if he ever smiled.
"I’m looking forward to talking with you about some mutually profitable ventures," he told Paki. "The sandlewood trade was just the beginning of what we can accomplish."
Duke winced. Scores of his countrymen had died in the back-breaking work of chopping down the sandlewood forests for the perfume trade. Now the trees were all gone, and what did Hawaii have to show for it?
His boss seemingly didn’t agree. "Wonderful!" Paki said. "Hawaii is perfectly positioned for trade between your country and the Orient. I have some ideas of my own that might interest you in Hawaii’s future."
As if on cue, laughter bubbled down the staircase. It was the sisters, Bernice and Lili’u, followed by Holo Brice and Prince William, all decked out in their evening wear. The sisters looked lovely, their cinnamon skin glowing with health, their full figures showed off to best advantage in their form-fitting bodices of silk and lace with bell skirts beneath.
Bernice’s eyes shone with excitement when she saw Bishop. Duke had heard the banker was courting the shy princess, but until now he had assumed it was purely for business advantage. Now, seeing Bishop’s broad smile as Bernice came eagerly to his side, Duke wasn’t so sure.
The chief made another round of introductions. Duke noticed that Dominis made a real effort to soften his austere features when he took the hand of Princess Lili’u. Perhaps his friend Bishop had told him about demure Bernice and her forceful sister. And all the crown land they owned, Duke thought cynically. In any case, Lili’u told Dominis, "You mustn’t think I don’t want to hear about your business at dinner. My sister and I may be women, but we want to know all about Hawaii and what lies in store for its future."
Prince David laughed, and said, "You see what has happened since we lifted our kapu against women in politics."
"It would be my honor to tell her highness anything she wants to know," Dominis assured him.
"Dinner!" Chief Paki said. "Dinner, and sparkling conversation from my daughters, and then maybe some business. In that order."
"And don’t forget, Father, after dinner we have to play our new song for Mr. Bishop and Mr. Dominis," the princess said.
"I would love to hear it," Dominis said, a benign look coming over his wolfish features. He offered the princess his arm. She took it readily, Bernice linked hers through Bishop’s, and the chief led them into the dining room. Prince David sauntered after them, Prince William copying his every move.
Bringing up the rear was Holo Brice. With his shoulders hunched and his features tight and flushed, he reminded Duke of someone he hadn’t seen in a long time.
It took him a minute to place it, it had been so long ago. Then he remembered. Brice reminded him of himself. When he was Brice’s age, he had been eager to raise some hell. He had done it, too, in the civil war that had followed the death of Kamehameha. The old king’s widow and his son had deposed the old gods—declared them dead and gone. They had ordered the smashing of the temples and the idols. They had sent their retainers out to enforce the new order. When Duke thought about it, he could still see red streams tumbling down green mountains with the blood of those who had died trying to prevent the death of their ancient way of life.
The hindsight of maturity made it all seem like a terrible waste – Hawaiians killing Hawaiians. But that was now. He wasn’t so old he didn’t remember the heady feeling of warrior blood boiling in a young man’s body, ready to strike out, and not particularly caring about the right and wrong of it.
But there was no war for Holo Brice, the hapa-haole artist. No spears, no passion, no blood, no screaming, no triumph, no exhaustion, no tears, no recovery. Just paint brushes, and dinner parties, and chiefs who owed your father a favor, and princesses who laughed at hapa-haole artists, and let rich American businessmen gaze into their obsidian eyes.
Duke almost felt sorry for Holo Brice. He would have, if he wasn’t so damned scared of him.
He watched Brice retreat into the dinner room. He studied the set of Brice’s shoulders, the tension in his back and buttocks under the elegant clothes. No, he didn’t think it was just the lamplight.
***
As a former soldier and an experienced guard, Duke knew better than to ignore his instincts about Brice. Whatever kind of flirtation had passed between him and the princess, Brice was handling it badly. But Duke wasn’t sure what to do about it. After all, Brice hadn’t done anything. All the man was doing was painting a picture of the princess. And, well, generally comporting himself like an asshole. But if that were a crime, half of Hilo would be behind bars.
After putting a bug in the night guard’s ear about keeping an eye on the princesses, Duke had skipped the card game so he could get some sleep. He hadn’t slept well since he had lost his wife, and last night was no exception. Finally giving up on the enterprise, he’d gotten up early, brushed and pressed his guard uniform, had an awful breakfast courtesy of the Chinese cook, endured the cook’s teasing, and then trekked through the early morning humidity and mosquitoes up to the house.
He could see right off the bat that it was going to be another endless day. Brice was pacing in the room they were using as a studio and swearing under his breath. He glanced up sharply when Duke entered the room, then looked disappointed.
"Where is she?" he snapped.
"Don’t ask me," Duke replied. "Women get ready in their own time."
"I spoke to her father last night about the painting," Brice told Duke. "He agreed he wanted it completed sometime this century."
"Ha ha," Duke said. "You’re a million laughs." He went and looked out the window. The household staff was going about their business. It reminded Duke of his busy, bustling village. When he was growing up, you could always see people buzzing around in the taro fields in the mornings, or chasing after some pigs or dogs. And always in the background, the pounding of poi. His wife had developed very strong arms from pounding poi. But it hadn’t saved her from what the haoles called measles. And it hadn’t saved the children. All of them were back there, under the hau tree, in what used to be a beautiful village, and was now a ghost town. And he had to go on living, somehow.
"No one around here shows me any respect," Brice complained openly. "Why is that?"
"I don’t know," Duke said wearily. "You figure it out."
"Men like John Dominis and Charles Bishop act like they own the place," Brice ranted. "I bet they can’t even chant their ancestry back three generations. I know mine back to the gods!"
"So do I," Duke said. "It doesn’t matter, son. Not anymore. Those guys are the future. Can’t you see it?" He turned back to face Brice. "They’ve got money, and that trumps ancestry any day of the week. There’s more of them and fewer of us every day. You oughta know that, your father was a rich haole, right? You went to school in England and learned all their fancy ways. I don’t know what you’ve got to bitch about. You’re gonna make it."
"You are amazingly insolent," Brice said. "Considering your position."
Duke thought Chief Paki’s loose collar and sickly gray face. Another great chief, about to die. "I’m just telling you the way it is," he said. "By the time you’re old like me, we’ll be an American province." Duke wasn’t sure how he knew this. He had never really thought about it before. He felt cold and scared in his bones. His tiny family would be forgotten. There would be no one to remember them. It occurred to him that there could be no more Hawaiians left, at all.
"I can’t stand them!" Brice said passionately. "The goddamned Americans! You want to know what I think?"
"Tell me," Duke said.
"It’s like this! We only came up from savagery in this generation, right?"
"I don’t consider myself a savage," Duke said.
"Well, you’ve never been out of this rainy mudhole," Brice said. "Do you want to know what the British—my own father’s people—thought of me when I went to school?" His mouth twisted bitterly. "They thought I was a monkey in a suit. They expected me to be carrying a spear and have a bone in my nose. And worst of all, they were afraid I’d lay one of my monkey hands on one of their women. As if I’d want to touch one of those ugly, skinny cows!"
"And the Americans are worse?" Duke said.
"Yes, and you know why?"
"I guess you’re gonna tell me."
"The British are honest. If they hate you, you know it. If they’re going to steal your country, you know that too. But the big, friendly Americans ingratiate themselves, with their money and their riches and their religion, until you want those things so badly, that you whore yourself to get them. Or who knows, maybe even whore your own daughters."
Duke looked at him steadily for a long moment. "Son," Duke said. "You sure as hell better not ever say anything like that around me, ever again."
"Am I supposed to be scared of a has-been like you?" Brice mocked. "How about making yourself useful and lighting a fire under Her Royal Highness so we can get started?"
Without another word, Duke turned on his heel and stalked out of the room towards the family quarters. Rage wrapped itself around his heart. He would have the little bastard tossed off the premises!
He stopped a fellow guard in the hall. "Kokua, have you seen Chief Paki or Prince David this morning?"
"Yeah, they went for a ride with the Americans," Kokua said. "Up to see the volcano. They’ll be gone overnight."
Swell, Duke thought. Well, at least he could make sure the princess was never alone with Brice, even for a minute.