swooped down upon by the phalanxes of Moroni. Like rats in a trap,
surrounded on all sides, they struggled with ferocious courage,
clanging their cimeters on the Nephite armor and in return being
frightfully mangled. Sickened with the sight of gore, Moroni finally
called off his troops.
Moroni's position was unique. Chosen as commander-in-chief of the
Nephite army at the age of twenty-five, he yet towered so far above the
other characters of his age, that older men did not dispute his place.
Even the lean Amalickiah, eaten up with ambition, hid his envy.
Educated in the school of the priests, Moroni combined wisdom with the
fire of youth. Disliking warfare and bloodshed, he had been forced into
it in defense of his people when their freedom was threatened. To the
spotless purity of his life was attributed much of his power.
As men often owe successful periods of their lives to the influence of
some woman, so Moroni had known two, Hirza, clear-eyed and spiritual
minded, he had met at school. Keenly intellectual she had dazzled him
with her brilliancy. To her he owed much of his erudition and his
wide knowledge of human nature. He was genuinely attached to this gay
comrade when the handsome Zorabel came into his life. She reminded him
of a full blown rose, whose fragrance gradually steals over the senses
until they are steeped in delirium. He was yet to find out that she had
her thorn below the soft petals. Zorabel was a sister of Amalickiah,
and, like him, was ambitious.
Moroni sallied out of his tent into the brilliant sunlight to go
and meet Zerahemnah at the appointed place. Behind him filed his
body-guard, led by Amalickiah who walked by the side of his chief.
Doubly dear to the general was this brother of Zorabel, yet he dared
not give him a higher place in the army because he could not trust
him. Amalickiah had done things--and yet under the genial influence of
his presence, soothed by his flattering words, Moroni was inclinded to
laugh at his fears.
Moroni reached the little hillock, ascended it, and let his gaze rest
on the emerald expanse of the river that writhed like a green snake
between the burnished gold of its banks. Below him swarmed the hordes
of the Lamanites, perturbed by a spirit of unrest, as they expectantly
awaited the result of the parley.
There was a commotion in the ranks and Zerahemnah moved out from among
them and advanced toward Moroni. A shaggy homely man, he seemed, yet
not without a suggestion of power. A gruff leader of men, of violent
temper, he had gained his position by force. When he stopped a pace
from Moroni, the latter addressed him.
"Behold, Zerahemnah, we do not want to be men of blood. You know that
you are in our hands, yet we do not desire to slay you." He reminded
him that the Nephites had not gone to war for power, but to defend
their loved ones against the yoke of bondage. He added that they had
tried to destroy his religion whereas the Lord had delivered them
into his hands. He finished by demanding their weapons of war and the
promise that they would go their way and come not again to battle
against his people.
Zerahemnah unbuckled his sword, threw down his cimeter and handed his
bow to Moroni, saying, "Here are our weapons of war. We will not suffer
ourselves to take an oath unto you, which we know that we shall break,
and also our children. Take our arms and suffer that we may depart into
the wilderness. Otherwise we will perish or conquer. We are not of your
faith, we do not believe that it is God that has delivered us into your
hands; it is your cunning that has preserved you from our swords."
Moroni handed him back his arms. "We will end the conflict," he said.
When Zarahemnah grasped the import of his words his face purpled with
rage. Paying no heed to his weapons that clattered to the ground, he
brandished his sword and rushed at Moroni. It would have pierced him
had not the alert Amalickiah on Moroni's right smote it to the earth
with a blow of such force that it shattered it at the hilt. Before
the dazed Zerahemnah could realize what had happened, a second blow
descended with such swiftness that it shaved off his scalp. With blood
streaming in his face and a snarl like a wounded beast, Zerahemnah
sprang back to his own cohorts that had surged forward at the vivid
spectacle.
Amalickiah stooped and picked up the scalp by the tuft of hair.
Fastening it on the point of his sword he stretched it toward them
crying in a loud voice, "Even as this scalp of your chief has fallen to
the earth, so shall you fall to the earth unless you deliver up your
weapons of war and depart with a covenant of peace."
Visibly impressed, and quaking with fear, many of the Indians came
forward, took the oath, stacked their weapons at the feet of Moroni,
and departed in little bands into the wilderness. But Zerahemnah,
hoarse with wrath, mingling with the remaining soldiers urged them on
to recommence the assault.
Angered with their stubborn resistance the Nephite leader turned his
legions loose. In the frightful massacre that ensued the dark warriors
were swept down.
When Zerahemnah saw that they were going to be all wiped out, he cried
mightily to Moroni, promising, if he spared the remainder of their
lives, never to come against him again.
The latter ordered the battle to cease and allowed the shivering
remnants of the Lamanites to leave.
Night descended on the field of horrors and obliterated many of its
sights, and Moroni, weary and sick at heart, made his way back to his
tent. Outside a lashing rainstorm had arisen, increasing the agony of
the wounded. The soldiers were clearing the field and throwing the
bodies of the unnumbered dead into the river. Dreariness enveloped the
general as he threw himself disconsolately down.
"A lady to see you, sir," announced the sentry at the door. Moroni
started up. Doubtless some heartbroken mother come in search of her
son. Was there no end?
"Admit her," he ordered curtly.
A woman clad in a rough brown cloak entered. She threw back her hood
from which her head emerged like a gorgeous poppy.
Moroni started toward her. "Zorabel," he exclaimed.
"Thank God you are safe!" she withdrew her hand from his compelling
grasp to feel the massive armor on his shoulders, to assure herself
that he was not hurt.
"This is no place for you. How did you come here?" he gently chided.
"Since you left I have been in torment. When I heard of a clash of arms
on the other side of the river, I jumped on my swiftest steed. See how
fast I rode. It shook down all my hair." She showed him her black hair
streaming almost to her knees. "When I reached the lines they said you
barely escaped death today," her voice broke.
"I suppose I should have been killed if it hadn't been for Amalickiah!
Your brother saved my life."
"Dear Amalickiah! You must tell me."
As he recited the incidents of the day she drank in his words with her
soul in her eyes.
Strange spectacle that, of Zorabel, the charmer. She had recognized
Moroni as the coming man and had deliberately set out to fascinate him.
But as she entrapped him with her hundred coquetries, she found herself
in the toils. The fresh young general had stirred her as no other man
ever had and the proud Zorabel was now avowedly the abject slave of
love.
In her sweet presence the exigencies of the camp were forgotten, the
turmoil of the day faded away, and Moroni felt a calm descend on his
spirit.
II.
MORONI RAISES THE STANDARD OF LIBERTY.
Moroni sat in his study bent over a message which read, "Amalickiah has
stirred up an insurrection to gain the kingdom," when a young lawyer
entered and accosted him. The newcomer had formerly been the general's
secretary and an affectionate familiarity existed between them.
"What is it now?" asked Moroni pushing his papers aside, for something
in the other's air suggested matters of import.
[Illustration: MORONI RAISES THE STANDARD OF LIBERTY.]
"Only this, sir. I found out by accident that there was a meeting of
the judges of the lower court called to which I was not bid. I took
means to investigate and found that they have all pledged themselves
to support Amalickiah as king on the strength of his empty promises to
increase their power."
"I was afraid of this," sighed Moroni. His eye traveled to the door
whence a young captain entered with angry stride.
The stern young blade was vibrant with vehemence as he saluted and
announced, "There is a defection in the army, sir. The soldiers have
been stirred up with tales of civil war. The men, spoiling with
inaction, hail the idea of a clash with delight. Already they are
taking sides. Amalickiah has won over the rougher element with promises
of loot."
"What have you done?"
"Put the rebels in irons. But the insurrection is spreading, and I
can't imprison the whole army."
"You have done well. Let us hear what Sherum has to say." A servant
with disheveled hair, his garments almost torn from his back, and his
eyes rolling wildly in his head, had rushed in and thrown himself at
the feet of the general.
It was a moment before the panting wretch could get his breath. Between
gasps he managed to ejaculate, "The city has gone mad. Howling mobs
are blocking the streets. As I returned from the charcoal vender's I
ventured to enquire what it was all about. They jeered at me and when
I refused to cry, 'Long live King Amalickiah, cuffed me from hand to
hand."
Moroni knew enough about the management of men to realize that
turbulent conditions require desperate remedies. Unless the revolution
was stopped Amalickiah would be swept into office on the flood tide of
a riot.
His face darkened. "Was it for this that my people fought the bloody
wars with the Lamanites? Resisted the yoke of bondage to become thralls
of a Nephite king, because perchance, Amalickiah would have it so?" he
muttered bitterly.
"Teancum, go back to the barracks. Order the soldiers to prepare to
march and the first one who tries to desert make an example of. Let fly
an arrow and shoot him in the back."
Filled with the valor of his emprize, Teancum saluted his chief in
silence and strode out.
"Sherum, arise, and bid Horeb bring here my full armor. You," he
continued, turning to the lawyer, "go tell the town criers to summon
the people to a mass meeting at the palace of justice. Say that Moroni
would speak with them."
Tearing off the white cotton mantle that hung from his shoulders
he took it over to the longest spear that rested against the wall.
Quickly he lashed the white flag to the pole with thongs of buckskin.
Then hastily thrusting his brush into the ink pot that stood near, he
wrote on the white banner in bold letters, "In memory of our God, our
religion and freedom, our peace, our wives, and our children."
Before he had finished his body servant entered bowed under the weight
of his harness. With firm, deft touch he encased his master in the
glittering metal. First he adjusted the breast plate, and then fastened
the heavy armor that shielded the vital organs. He handed his chief his
shield dented with the fray of many battles and lastly crowned him with
the great helmet which bore on its crest the winged serpent.
He knew that one man could not quell the insurrection. He felt that he
was but a weak instrument. Before he ventured out Moroni bowed himself
down and prayed mightily that the Lord would pour down on the people
the blessing of liberty.
Filled with the new strength that earnest prayer always imparts, he
seized the title of liberty, and walked boldly out into the howling mob
in the street.
When the people saw Moroni clad in martial array and read what was on
his torn flag, the clamor died on their lips. Many quickly separated
themselves from the crowd and followed the general.
When he reached the palace of justice and ascended the stairs to the
portico, he found the square below filled with a surging multitude and
from all directions others were hurrying. Men who had fought in the
wars with Moroni were fastening on their armor as they ran, and women
pulled children by the hand.
Moroni stepped forward and grasped the standard of liberty as he cried
in a loud voice, "Behold whosoever will maintain this title upon the
land, let them come forth in the strength of the Lord, and enter into a
covenant that they will maintain their rights, and their religion, that
the Lord God may bless them."
At this many of the people rent their garments and trampled them under
foot as they cried, "So may our enemies trample us under foot if we
fall into transgression."
Moroni reminded them that was what would probably happen. Then he
launched into speech while the populace hung spell-bound on every word.
The vast concourse stood silent while his utterance rang out. Never had
such a eulogy been paid to liberty, never such a tribute to their God.
In glowing words he pictured what they had endured for their religion,
what they had suffered in the recent wars for their freedom. Scarcely
one in that vast multitude but what had sacrificed for both. As the
orator ended with the appeal, "Will you who have so bitterly resented
the Lamanitsh yoke bend the knee to a Nephite king?" an ominous shout
arose and he knew that the populace was with him. General Moroni was
still the idol of the people and Amalickiah stood impugned.
As the speaker, sucked of his strength, turned to descend, someone
plucked at his arm. He recognized the big servant of Zorabel who
delivered the message.
"My mistress would speak with you. She begs that you will come to her."
"Tell your mistress Zorabel that I shall come, but not yet."
With that he dismissed the messenger and made his way to the
barracks where there was much that demanded the attention of the
commander-in-chief for the rest of the afternoon.
It was evening when he at last made his way toward the house of
Zorabel. In her apartment the oil already flamed in its brazen cruet.
So vast was the room that the light did not penetrate to its further
corners, but it served to illumine its magnificence. The walls were
carved in grotesque designs brilliantly colored. Prominent among the
engravings was the winged serpent of Moroni, and by its side the
leopard of Amalickiah. On the floor, over the couches, at the door,
were displayed richest blankets of heaviest woof and rainbow hue. Nor
were there lacking evidences of the personality of Moroni, for his
gifts were placed with loving care. On an alabaster stand lay a book
of papyrus filled with picture writing in colored inks, depicting the
scenes of the conflicts Moroni had taken part in. Against the wall
stood a buckskin shield won from a famous Lamanite chief. Her own divan
was graced by the skin of an ocelot that Moroni had brought from one of
his foraying expeditions.
Another woman would have paled in such gorgeous surroundings, but
Zorabel dominated the whole. In crimson robes, the wealth of her
raven hair bound in fillets of gold, she was the throbbing heart of
the scene. Her own heart beat unevenly beneath the white bosom which
was circled with a necklace of jade. She had placed the bangles there
wondering if his man's brain would remember under what circumstances
he had given them to her. She had neglected no detail that night that
would help in the desperate enterprise on which she was bound.
There was a tread in the corridor and Moroni stood in the doorway. As
she looked at him all her reproaches for his tardiness died on her lips
and her woman's tenderness gushed forth.
"You are ill."
After the exertions of the day Moroni's features were drawn, his face
pallid, and the life had gone out of him. Quickly she went to him and
he enveloped her in his arms.
"Come," she said at last, "you are shaking as if you had the ague. I
will give you some wine." She poured an amber liquid into a goblet and
held it to his lips as he sat down weakly.
"It has been a terrible day," she moaned.
"Yes," he agreed. "Was that what you wanted to see me about?"
"I always want to see you, but I wished to talk to you, about--" she
hesitated, "Amalickiah."
"I had to oppose him," said Moroni wearily.
"Yes, and defeated him. You won the people over to your side."
"He would be king."
"He is ambitious but he cannot help it."
"But he should learn that he cannot jeopardize the liberty of a nation
to gratify his vaulting ambition."
"He was dissatisfied with his position."
"He saved my life, but I could not pay my debts with the offices of the
people. The trust I gave him he has betrayed."
Zorabel winced, "The first victory came to you. Promise me you will
oppose my brother no longer."
"He is a menace to our freedom."
"You will cease the conflict for my sake?"
"I cannot."
"Moroni, I would give up my life for you."
"Ask me for my life, Zorabel, and it is yours. As military leader, I
must defend the country against any encroachment."
"Then you will let him go his way and not molest him further."
"He is seducing the people and they will have to come back."
"At least, you will let Amalickiah go?"
"Not even that, my Zorabel. As long as he is free the Nephite republic
is threatened."
"Then you will do nothing?'' And her face was terrible.
"I cannot."
"Oh, God, have I come to this? What is this insensate thing that I have
poured out the lavishness of my soul on? I thought it was a man," she
flung up her arms despairingly.
"As I am a man I cannot do this thing you ask me. Forgive me, Zorabel,"
he choked.
"I have wasted my wealth of love; there is none left. What has it
brought me? I have torn my heart out and it has been devoured by the
God of War, but unlike the miserable victim that is sacrificed, my body
shall live on and on, after the heart has gone from it."
"Zorabel, you are killing me."
"I am already dead. No man shall again thrill me with his touch nor
will he put me on the rack. Henceforth, I have no master. As for you,"
she had worked herself into a paroxysm of fury, "never let me see your
face again." In her tempestuous rage she seized the lamp and dashed it
on the floor.
Darkness closed in, and out of the blackness Moroni heard a voice that
ordered him to "Go." He groped blindly around but instinct told him
that if he touched her he would be lost, nor would he be the first
man that betrayed his country for a woman. Staggering, he turned and
stumbled out. Like a drunken man he descended to the street. Even then
had he known that Zorabel lay on the floor shaken with convulsive sobs
he might have turned back. But destiny guided him on.
When he reached home he found a message from Hirza, congratulating him
on the splendid achievement of the day. With a wan smile he thought,
"At what a cost!"
[Illustration: AZTEC GOD OF WAR.]
III.
AMALICKIAH.
Zorabel carried out her threat; having cast love out of her life she
was ruled by ambition. After renouncing Moroni she proceeded to marry
the aged, decrepid Lachoneus. He was the richest man in all Zarahemla,
but her beauty bought him. She lived for wealth and power and outwardly
was as handsome as ever. Moroni used to see her rolling resplendently
in her carriage, but he never met her without a twinge of the old pain.
Amalickiah, when he saw his forces were far outnumbered by the legions
of Moroni, beat a hasty retreat into the wilderness. Moroni marched
against him, cut him off, and drove the insurgent soldiers back to
Zarahemla. During the melee, however, Amalickiah with the chief
conspirators, managed to escape. According to time honored custom they
sought refuge in the city of Nephi, with the Nephite's arch enemy, the
king of the Lamanites.
That august personage received the renegade Nephite with wide open
arms, and when he found what a good fellow he was, heaped honors upon
him. Amalickiah, with the charm of his words, won all hearts at court.
He conceived a gigantic scheme. That was to rule the Nephites through
their ancient enemies, the Lamanites. To this end he began by his
subtle flattery to stir up the king's anger against the white people.
"Why should you not rule over the whole continent, for you are stronger
than they?" he intimated.
The idea tickled the king's fancy, for though he reigned over mighty
hosts, he had a vast respect for the Nephite laws and craftsmanship.
"Seize them now, while their power is divided, and they are yours. They
have no head," urged the deserter.
The king remembered a certain General Moroni, but wisely held his
counsel. "They have those liberty flags floating from the towers of
every city," he suggested.
"Yes, and you will trample every one of them in the dust beneath your
chariot wheels," prophesied Amalickiah with rising vindictiveness.
The king, dazzled by the glories pictured by this astute adviser,
issued the mandate for war. Throughout the length and breadth of the
land went the word that summoned the hosts.
Then a remarkable thing occurred. Many of the warriors had fought on
the banks of the river Sidon and had taken an oath not to again take up
arms against the Nephites, nor would they. These men fled to a place
called Onidah, appointed a general and declared, "We will have peace,
if we have to fight for it."
The king suggested to Amalickiah, since he was so much interested in
the campaign, that he whip the insurgents into line. The latter gladly
accepted the command of the troops that were still loyal, for he had
already planned to dethrone the king and he counted that one step
toward the accomplishment of his design.
The rebels who refused to fight for the king, under the command of
Lehonti, occupied the hill Antipus. Amalickiah pitched his camp at its
base.
At night, muffled in a zerape, Amalickiah passed the guard, and with
sinister stride, made his way around the side of the mountain. When
he was out of sight of the sentry, he stopped abruptly. The night was
fitted for deeds of darkness, as it was so black one could not see the
next step in advance. To the west the clouds were banked up and the
wind was beginning to rise. The gaze of the man who stood amid the
desolation was fastened on a moving object up the side of the mountain.
A stone, becoming dislodged, rattled down and instinctively his hand
sought his sword.
The next moment the figure accosted him.
"It is you, Tish? What does Lehonti say?"
"He returns the same answer that he has sent the past two nights. He
will not come down to parley with you."
"Did you tell him it was of vital importance?"
"He said that if that was the case, that you could send the message up
to him."
"You told him I would assure his safe conduct."
"He answered that a man who had betrayed two masters might do no better
by an enemy."
Amalickiah showed sudden magnanimity.
"Go tell the coward dog that I come alone to confer with him. Bid him
bring his guards and meet me at his own gate."
Swiftly the messenger sped off and Amalickiah picked his more
deliberate way up the side of the mountain. When he reached the place
appointed, he found that Lehonti already awaited him and that he had
taken the precaution to bring his full body guard.
"What I have to say is for your ears alone," explained Amalickiah in a
low tone.
Not to be outdone in generosity, Lehonti motioned for his men to fall
back.
With the bluntness his crafty soul knew so well how to assume,
Amalickiah came straight to the point.
"My policy is to unite the two divisions of the Lamanite army. If we
fall on each other and shed blood my very purpose will be defeated. We
need all the men for the common enemy."
"I too, am opposed to bloodshed," answered Lehonti, slowly. "It is not
good for brother to fight against brother."
"I wish to put the whole Lamanite army under one head. If you bring
your troops tonight and surround our camp, I will deliver it to you at
daylight."
"The price? What do you want?" asked Lehonti looking the traitor
straight in the eyes.
"That you make me second in command of all the forces of the Lamanites."
The Indian mistrusted how he might get along with such a lieutenant,
but the proposition seemed fair enough on its face, and he agreed.
At dawn, when the soldiers began to stir, they found that they were
completely surrounded by the army of Lehonti. Then they pleaded with
Amalickiah that he would let them fall in with their brethren and not
be destroyed. That was what he wanted. In direct disobedience to the
commands of the king, he delivered his men to Lehonti. That noble but
trusting general had taken a viper to his bosom, though he had to die
to prove it.
From second in command to the office of commander-in-chief, was but one
step. It mattered little to the unscrupulous Amalickiah that Lehonti
stood in the way. He had slow poison administered in his food. When the
latter sickened the Nephite took over his duties.