fell on the floor. Amalickiah shrugged his shoulders and indifferently
remarked that he had taken a fit. When the physicians examined the
prostrate figure and pronounced him dead, Amalickiah affected surprise.
He ordered that Lehonti be buried with military honors, and that same
day appointed himself to the dead man's place.
Slowly the great army began to make its way back to the capitol.
Runners brought word to the king that the hosts covered the plains.
Thinking that Amalickiah had gathered together so great an army to go
to battle against the Nephites, he, with great pomp, accompanied by
his guards, sallied out to meet the victorious general. He did not
know that Amalickiah would fain advance another step and that the king
himself this time stood in the way.
The advance scouts, the employed hirelings of the general, went ahead
of the army and bowed themselves down before the king to do him
reverence. Among them was Tish, noted for his dog-like devotion to his
master. It was he, it was suspected, who had administered the poison to
Lehonti. Whatever his faults, he was unswerving in his loyalty to his
chief. It chanced that he knelt directly in front of the monarch. When
the sovereign put forth his hand to raise him in token of peace, he
leaned forward and buried his dagger to the hilt in the king's heart.
So quickly had it happened as the two men stood together, so sure was
the stroke, that not until the king went down on his back and the red
spot on his robe slowly widened, did the dazed onlookers realize what
had happened. The attendants, in abject terror that they would share a
like fate, swiftly fled.
An accomplice, taking his cue from the fleeing servants came up and
addressed the assassin.
"So his own guards have killed the king and are running away."
Tish, smiling sardonically down on his own blade drinking the life
blood of the dying monarch, murmured, "It must be so."
The eye lids of the victim quivered accusingly an instant and then
closed forever. Tish turned away his head.
The others closed in and raised a great shout, "Behold the servants of
the king have stabbed him to the heart, and he has fallen and they have
fled. Come and see."
They did not bethink themselves to pursue the refugees until
Amalickiah, with the main division of the army came up.
When that doughty general had looked in silence on the king, lying
in his gore, he worked himself up to a mighty wrath and ordered,
"Whosoever loved the king, let him go forth and pursue his servants
that they may be slain."
At this, those who loved the king, and they were many, started in hot
pursuit of the renegades, but the latter, when they saw an army coming
after them, fortified with the strength born of desperation, made good
their escape.
Amalickiah, having won the hearts of the people with his valorous
attempt to apprehend the supposed slayers of the king, marched into the
city in triumph at the head of his troops. He had already sent messages
to the queen, accompanied by the corpse of her husband. In her vigil
over the bier she listened to the tramp of the numberless battalions,
and replied by craving mercy for the inhabitants of the city. She asked
the general to wait upon her and bring witnesses to testify concerning
the death of the king.
Amalickiah, looking very handsome in full armor, went to the palace and
presented himself before the queen as she sat in state upon the throne.
He was accompanied by Tish and the other conspirators, who had killed
her husband. They all solemnly swore that the king had been slain by
his own servants. They added, "They have fled. Does not this testify
against them?" While she received the report, Amalickiah kept his
dominating gaze on the queen's face. When she felt him looking at her,
she dropped her eyes. After the others withdrew, Amalickiah remained to
adjust affairs of state with the queen.
For three days the widow shut herself up in her chamber to mourn.
During that time Amalickiah surfeited her with embankments of flowers
and baskets of fruit. His multiple gifts were accompanied by a
glib-tongued messenger, who lost no opportunity to sound his master's
praises.
[Illustration: AMALIKAIH SENT THE CORPSE OF HER HUSBAND TO THE
LAMANITE QUEEN.]
The lady, overburdened with the affairs of state, came to rely more and
more on the big, strong, councillor. They were thrown much together and
people began to wonder if there had been another reason for the king's
sending Amalickiah away to the wars. He was a Nephite with the charm
and manners of his race, and the queen was but a pawn. Only, since he
was to marry her to gain the throne, he gloried in the fact that she
was so beautiful.
So the two were wed, and Amalickiah, seated on the throne by the
queen's side, was crowned king. She salved her conscience for her
undue haste by ordering a splendid tomb for the remains of her former
husband. She had the funeral chamber decorated with leopards, the coat
of arms of Amalickiah.
He gave himself over to the pleasures of the court, but still
unsatisfied, desired to rule the earth. Slowly he began to plan the
vast campaign which would again mark the clash of the two greatest
generals of the age, Moroni, commander-in-chief of the Nephites,
and Amalickiah, king of the Lamanites, only now the latter had the
barbarian hordes behind him.
IV.
Nemesis Overtakes Amalickiah.
Moroni again sat at his study table, while Teancum walked the floor
like a caged hyena. The former was haggard-gray like a blasted tree;
the latter vowed vengeance, in harsh, inarticulate sounds. Thus the
two men took their sorrow differently. Word had come that day that the
city of Moroni on the Atlantic coast had been sacked by Amalickiah. For
certain reverses that his troops had met with at first, that worthy had
sworn to drink Moroni's blood. City after city had fallen under his
attack, and ruin and destruction followed in his wake. Finally Moroni's
home town was captured. When Amalickiah found that he was cheated of
his revenge, as Moroni had gone to Zarahemla, he had without mercy had
the aged parents of Teancum and Moroni's young wife, Hirza, put to the
sword. Her woman's wit had saved her boy, Moronihah, and sent him in
safety to his father, but it could not save herself.
"The vampire has drunk your blood through Hirza's veins." Teancum
stopped in his mad pace. "Poor Hirza, whose only fault was being loved
by you."
Moroni groaned.
"It was a coward's trick," continued the other. "They are dead, my aged
father and my poor old mother--Look you, Moroni, Amalickiah belongs to
me. Before heaven I swear to kill him with these two hands!" He flung
his powerful arms with clenched fists above his head.
[Illustration: AMALICKIAH SACKED THE COAST CITIES AND PUT HIRZA TO THE
SWORD.]
"Nay, do not swear," cautioned Moroni. "Teancum, you have been given
the command of the division that moves against the Lamanites tomorrow.
Fight with the genius and tenacity you displayed on the narrow neck of
land. For the rest I trust you implicitly. Now I would be alone."
* * * * * * * *
Amalickiah marched toward the land Bountiful driving the Nephites
before him. On the last day he had been much harassed by the archers
of Teancum that skirted the woods. When they reached the seashore
they met the forces of Teancum drawn up in martial array. A pitched
battle ensued in which the Nephites had the advantage over the footsore
Lamanites who had been marching and fighting for many days, while their
opponents were fresh. With nightfall hostilities ceased. "If Amalickiah
were dead, there would be no more war; the snake cannot strike without
its head," cogitated the Nephite.
Teancum sat in his tent and by the sputtering flame of a pine torch,
was engaged in coloring his skin brown by rubbing it with the juice
of a wood berry. His servant, who had already gone through the same
performance, and was a Lamanite to all appearances, was sorting over
rather gingerly, a pile of women's apparel.
"You are hard to please. Does nothing there suit you?" asked Teancum,
with mocking irony.
"Nay, there are so many, I know not which to choose," replied the other
in the same spirit.
"It need not be overly becoming in the dark. Let me warn you to make
your skirts short, for you may have to run." So daring hearts make
light of the gravest dangers.
The man servant replied with a vicious wrench as he got into the
woman's garb.
Teancum surveyed him and laughed. "My word, you make a charming wench.
Half the men in the Lamanite camp will try to flirt with you, and so
defeat our adventure. Pull your scarf down more over your face, so."
The other grinned, displaying a mouth unfeminine in width. But he
looked sober when Teancum handed him a battle axe with the remark, "If
I fail, you may have an opportunity to finish it," Teancum himself
tucked a double-edged dagger into his belt and took down his javelin.
He then enveloped himself in a blanket.
As the two passed out, the servant in the yellow striped skirt of
a drab, the other with the shuffling gait of a camp straggler,
they attracted little attention. When they entered the camp of the
Lamanites they elicited less, for the men slept with the abandonment of
exhaustion. "A fellow and his girl out late," was all they thought, if
they saw them at all.
As the couple picked their way among the tired soldiers one would
occasionally open his eyes, see who it was, only grunt and turn over
wearily. So without mishap they reached the tent of Amalickiah. Fortune
was with them, for his servants were sleeping heavily. Although delay
was fraught with danger, Teancum reconnoitered a moment to ascertain
just where Amalickiah lay. He was asleep on a camp couch with his arms
by his side. A streak of moonlight straggled in and illumined his pale
face.
For a moment Teancum poised his javelin in the air. Then he struck. So
powerful was the arm that drove the weapon that it went through the
sleeper's body, speared the heart, and he died without a groan.
Teancum joined his cowering companion at the entrance, and the two
picked their way out of the hostile camp.
Not until morning did the Lamanite hordes raise a wail for their dead
king. They had just found his corpse, stark and cold, stuck through
with a javelin.
[Illustration: BAS-RELIEF OF ANCIENT WARRIOR]
[Illustration: ALLA DERIDING THE IDOLS]
AMMON'S MISSION TO THE LAMANITES.
I.
AMMON EMBARKS ON A MISSION
Ammon was the Napoleon of the western hemisphere. One trembles to think
what a man of such power might have done, had he used it for his own
aggrandizement, instead of converting souls. He was a king's son, and
though not the eldest, he was chief among his brothers, for his name is
always mentioned first.
During a brilliant and careless youth, the whole course of his life had
been metamorphosed by a miracle. Thenceforth he consecrated his life
to the work of the Lord, beside which a mere earthly kingdom sank into
insignificance.
When Mosiah, king of the Nephites, waxed old, there was no one to take
his place as his four sons had elected to go as missionaries to the
Lamanites. His death marked the beginning of the reign of the judges.
Heavily armed, the missionaries departed into the wilderness. Their
weapons were not designed for their fellow man, but for wild game that
they should kill for food. That they went hungry was not due to their
lack of prowess, for they often chose to fast that the spirit of the
Lord would be with them. Nor was their sacrifice without effect, for
the Lord promised them that if they made examples of their lives that
they should be instruments in his hands unto the salvation of many
souls.
It was characteristic of Ammon that he should separate from his
companions and go up to the land of Ishmael alone. Here, skirting the
woods, he was captured by the Lamanites, and, like every Nephite caught
on their borders, was taken before their king.
Lamoni was in a good humor. He had just returned from the hunt where he
had killed the silver fox. As he threw himself back on his divan, he
took in the points of the prisoner with the keen eye of a connoisseur.
With discriminating approval, he noted the swelling muscles beneath the
loose garments of the white man, but with black suspicion, demanded,
"What are you doing here?"
"I was entering your country when I was violently assaulted and bound
with thongs of buckskin." Ammon looked ruefully, down at his chafed
ankles.
"May I ask what you were entering the country for?"
"I came here to live."
"You came here to live!" repeated the king stupidly.
"Yes, and I may stay until I die."
"Which may be soon, judging by the fate that your last two countrymen,
that encroached on my borders, met. What crime did you commit in
Zarahemla that makes you an outcast?"
"None. I came here of choice, not of necessity."
"Then you are a merchant?"
"No. I am a king's son and need nu money."
Lamoni looked puzzled. Clearly he could not understand this man, yet
his words carried conviction.
"I am a missionary," explained Ammon simply. "I have come here to
preach the gospel of righteousness."
"I know that your people have preserved some remnants of the truth that
we have lost. You say that you have relinquished your father's kingdom
to come and live among us?" he asked incredulously, obviously flattered.
"What is that compared with the salvation of souls? Who knows but what
if we come to one belief that these bloodthirsty wars between our two
peoples shall cease?"
"Cut this man's bonds," ordered Lamoni, pleased with his new guest.
Like a hound loosed from leash, Ammon shook off his fetters and stood
forth majestically.
Lamoni opened his mouth to speak, when suddenly his jaw dropped and
the utterance died on his lips. A woman's laugh, shrill and taunting,
came from the terrace and recalled his chief trouble to the king. His
brow puckered. His daughter, Alla, was the trial of his life. She kept
the court in a continuous uproar. Not the least of her faults was that
she was an incorrigible flirt and kept the nobles in continual hot
water with her coquetries. It would not have been so bad if she had
confined her operations to the nobility, but she showed a democratic
predilection for commoners that was at least alarming. More than
once, he had tried to marry her off but his and the princess' choice
had never fallen on the same person. Only three days before, she had
lured two young men into an embroglio with the result that one carried
his arm in a sling while the other had lost the temporary use of an
eye. When openly charged with encouraging them, Alla had shamelessly
confessed that she led men on to see what they would do under certain
circumstances. Hers was a woman's insatiate curiosity, which, deprived
of books, read people in lieu thereof.
Lamoni was seized with a sudden inspiration. "Tell Alla to come here."
The servant sped out, but Ammon was not prepared for the apparition
that presently appeared.
"You wanted me, father?" Of strong rather than beautiful features as
she stood there in regal robes she was every inch a princess. She was
dressed with the care bred of the knowledge that every detail was dear
to the heart of a man. Yet Alla did not make her conquests at first
sight. They were wrought out of the diabolical cunning of her brain,
but once she got her grip on a man--she did not let go.
"This is Ammon, son of King Mosiah. Since he purposes to dwell among us
I shall give him you for a wife," announced Lamoni. Turning to the man
he continued, "That you may appreciate the honor I confer upon you, I
will add that the hand of my daughter has been sought by every noble
in the kingdom." He did not explain that a decision in any one's favor
would probably precipitate civil war and that he was pawning her off on
the newcomer to gain peace for himself.
"I do not know him," interposed Alla.
"The women of our country choose their own husbands," abetted Ammon.
"Moreover, missionaries do not marry. They cannot divide their
attention between their work and a woman."
"Then you refuse her," repeated the king dully. The humor of the
situation burst on him. "Alla, there is one man who will not have you."
With one look at Ammon, she tossed her head and swept out.
"She will make you regret it," remarked Lamoni with a twinkle in his
eye, "No one ever offends Alla with impunity."
"I meant no offense to the princess. Under the circumstances what else
could I say?"
"Since you have refused to become the king's son-in-law, may I ask what
you propose to do?"
"No work is too humble for my new calling. Let me be your servant," he
suggested with enthusiasm.
"The training of a king's son seldom fits a man for labor. What can you
do?"
"I have herded cattle and I love the open."
"Then a cattle herder you shall be."
He clapped his hands. To the servant that appeared he ordered, "Take
this man and give him a place among the herders. Provide him with all
necessities." To Ammon he said, "If there is anything I can do for you
let me know. I shall see you again." They were dismissed and with a
sigh of relief he sank back among his cushions.
II. THE CATTLE HERDER.
For three days Ammon rode among the cattle. A born horseman he sat
well the king's mount that had been sent him. During that time he had
seen no more of Princess Alla though his ears had been filled with
a multitude of servant's tales about her that were both weird and
startling.
It so chanced that early in the morning as the herders drove the cattle
to the waters of Sebus to drink, that the robbers from the mountains
had congregated there to scatter the herds. This was not an unusual
thing for the vast wealth of Lamoni in live stock was known and
coveted. A rather peculiar criminal code existed, by which any servants
who allowed the king's cattle to be stolen, were put to death, while
the robbers retreated to their mountain fastnesses unmolested. This
prevented collusion but encouraged the thieves.
As the cattle neared the river the robbers, with wild whoops, plunged
in among them, scattering them in all directions. This was what they
wanted so they could drive them off in bunches to their rendezvous.
Ammon, who was not familiar with the conditions, viewed the scene with
astonishment; but his surprise knew no bounds when he beheld the king's
servants throw themselves violently to the ground and begin to weep in
a paroxysm of grief.
"Look here, you will be run over," he cried heading off a frightened
heifer. The chief danger was over, as the stampede was swallowed up in
a cloud of dust across the plains.
"We are all dead men," wailed an old man to whom life was still sweet.
"I leave a young wife," added a youth in a lifeless monotone.
"What do you mean?" Ammon impatiently exclaimed.
"Simply this," explained a man of middle age, "when the king's cattle
are stolen, the herders are put to death."
"Then they must be brought back," said Ammon with finality. "Instead of
driveling here, spread out to the sides and help drive them in when I
turn them this way."
The others eyed him as if paralyzed as he dug his heels into his horse
and sped off across the plains like the whirlwind. As his flying figure
wa? swallowed up by a cloud of dust, they arose and mechanically began
to spread out on the prairie.
Ammon was handicapped as the cattle had the start of him. He leaned
forward and swirled his lariat in the air although his poor beast was
already panting with distended nostrils. Slowly he gained on the herd
which was impeded by its own numbers. His horse was frothing with foam
as he reached the front. He dared not plunge in to destruction but he
edged along the outskirts, curving the herd to one side. His alert
eyes had espied the leader, a young bull, and he made for him. Without
putting himself directly in its infuriated way, he uttered a wild whoop
and almost imperceptibly turned him in another direction. The cattle
followed suit and traveled in a circle and by the time that the cowboys
hedged them in they were able to drive them back to the waters of Sebus.
The robbers, unprepared for such tactics, had after their first
unsuccessful attempt massed themselves together at the watering place
to again scatter the herds as they came up.
Ammon called cheerily to the herders to encircle the cattle and guard
the outskirts in case they again turned that way. Then he rode straight
at the robbers. They were amused at this onslaught of a lone rider and
thought that they could kill him at will, but when he hurtled among
them and began to hew right and left with his polished blade, they took
notice and heaved stones at him. He emerged from the shower unscathed
and retaliated by striking down man after man. When he reached the
leader, whom he distinguished by his white crest, he stopped long
enough to kill him. For the rest he was content to disarm them, for
they were panic stricken. Ammon understood a trick probably learned
in his fencing at court, which stood him in good stead. His opponents
fought him with clubs. By a dexterous stroke he disabled their
arms so that they fell limp by their side. The robbers, completely
routed, fled, and Lamoni's awestruck servants crowded up and gathered
together the arms of the cattle thieves. Bearing these trophies of the
encounter, they hurried to tell the wonderful tale to the king.
Ammon leisurely betook himself to the courtyard where he got out the
horses and began to harness them to the king's chariot, as Lamoni had
given instructions that it was to be prepared. He purposed to attend
a feast given by his father, a neighboring but greater king. As he
led the spirited animals out, one of them reared but Ammon yanked the
bridle down and forced the brute into place. A flower fell at his feet
and he looked up to see Alla watching him from one of the windows.
She leaned out and called, "My father wants you to come so he can thank
you for saving his cattle today."
Ammon finished fastening the straps to the gilded chariot, picked up
the blossom, and went in.
III.
THE TRANCE.
The queen sent for Ammon to come to the death chamber where the body
of the king had lain in state for two days and two nights. Though her
husband was apparently dead and the magnificent sepulchre stood gaping
for the interment, the grief-stricken wife would not have it so. As
in all southern countries, it was the custom to bury a corpse within
twenty-four hours after death. The servants began to go about holding
their noses as they exclaimed, "He stinketh." In this dilemma, the
queen sent for Ammon. She had heard of his fame through Alla.
She met him at the entrance and conducted him into the funeral
chapel where she had been keeping sorrowful vigil. Coming out of the
sunlight into the damp chamber, a cold chill swept over him. The vast,
dimly lighted apartment, constructed entirely of stone, was bare of
furnishings except for the bier in the middle where the body was laid
out.
As the queen led Ammon over and removed the draperies, displaying the
king garbed in his royal robes, she murmured in agonized tones, "They
tell me you are a prophet of God, and have power to do mighty works in
his name. See, some say that he is dead and ought to be placed in the
sepulchre, but to me he is not dead."
The missionary bent low over the wax like face still as a mask. Closely
he scrutinized the veins. Looking up he announced, "He is not dead, but
he sleepeth in God, and on the morrow he shall rise again; therefore
bury him not. Believeth thou this?"
"I believe it will be according as you say."
"Blessed art thou because of thy exceeding faith: I say unto thee,
woman, there has not been such great faith among all the people of the
Nephites."
All through the still hours of the night the queen kept vigil over the
lifeless figure. When the gray dawn stole in through the casement she
welcomed it with relief. At the appointed hour when the king should
rise came Ammon to give her courage.
As they watched the form stirred, then slowly arose and shook off the
shroud. When the king recognized his faithful wife he stretched forth
his hand and blest her. His face shone with a transcendent light, and
overcome by the spirit, he sank down by the side of the bier. The
queen, in sheer weakness of joy embraced him. Ammon fell on his knees
and poured forth his soul in prayer and thanksgiving.