THE SACRIFICIAL STONE.
"And it came to pass that the Lamanites did hunt the band of robbers of Gadianton; * * insomuch that this band of robbers was utterly destroyed from among the Lamanites."
THE GOSSIPS AT THE FOUNTAIN
THE LAMANITE GIRL WAS PRETTY.
"Hurry with your trifling, and lend me your cup that I may fill my jars," admonished Abish.
"You are in a hurry, today?" queried Sara lazily. The water in the fountain was low and it had to be scooped up from the bottom. Sara was trickling the cool liquid over her fingers quite oblivious to her own empty water pitchers standing; with gaping mouths on the curb.
The two women, Abish, servant in the house of Ahah, and Sara a servant of Seantum, often met at the fountain to gossip. At these times the possible union between the heads of their two houses was an inexhaustible subject, for Seantum, the proud Nephite, was a suitor for the hand of Ahah, a girl of mixed blood. Possible exigencies were suggested by the fact that Ahah was believed to love Hagoth, a Lamanite soldier; on the other hand her mother, the widowed Miriam, openly encouraged the suit of Seantum.
Truly the plaza in the beautiful suburb, Antionum was a pleasant place to loiter. The fountain was the life source of the city, and sooner or later everyone came there to drink. The gorgeous flowers of the tropics were so rich that the very bees became intoxicated and produced a honey that was the original nectar. A long line of Biblical looking girls carrying water jars on their heads extended from the fountain. Alternating with oval Madonna-like faces lit with lustrous eyes was the ardent gypsy coloring that told of mixed blood, for Lamanites and Nephites mingled freely in the community.
"The servants at our house do not dawdle the day away," announced Abish severely, "Our mistress looks after her household."
Sara felt the implied sneer, for the ancient halls of Seantum languished in bachelor neglect.
"When the fair Ahah comes to preside over our household then may I have to run home heavy laden."
"If your white faced master be not so slow that he lets Hagoth the Lamanite walk off with her before his eyes, I could tell him things—"
"A Lamanite," laughed Sara derisively. "Ahah is not particular in her taste. But then, poor girl, she cannot help it, it is in her blood"—Sara stopped short, for along the street, ringing with startling distinctness arose the cry, "Cezoram, son of Cezoram, the chief judge, is dead."
For a moment there was absolute stillness, then wild clamor broke forth. Rumor, with her thousand tongues told that Cezoram, chief judge of all the Nephites, had not risen that morning and when an attendant went to wake him he found him lying naturally in his bed—dead. He had been struck upon the head as he slept, by an assassin who had come and gone as stealthily as the night air.
"Who killed him?" inquired Abish plucking at the arm of a man who passed with broad strides, muttering in his beard.
"Who should it be but the Gadiantons, a handful of robbers, the mention of whose very name blanches the faces of the people and shakes the government. The Nephite officials are in secret league with them else we would not be so terrorized. Two chief judges slain within a year: Cezoram the elder struck down as he sat upon the judgment seat; his son and successor most foully murdered in his room! Is there no end to our endurance?"
"The Gadiantons!" Bursting with her news Abish caught up her half-filled jars and hurried out through some deserted gardens that she might more quickly arrive home. As she picked her way through some overgrown vines she stopped suddenly. Her eye had caught sight of a familiar crest. Across the open space was the stalwart figure of Hagoth clothed in the tiger skin, his badge of knighthood. By his side in flaunting red petticoat walked a Lamanite girl. At the edge of the woods he returned the basket he had been carrying and the head of the plumed chief bent low over her.
"Hagoth making love to an Indian; I wonder what Ahah will say?"
Later she heard what her mistress had to say, and the servant's tale lost nothing in the telling of it.
IN THE PATIO OF MIRIAM.
A party of four sat at the supper board of Miriam. It was spread in the roofed cloisters, midway between the patio where the margherites, like Psyche, flirted with their own fair image in the fountain, and the house, where, through gold embroidered gauze curtains, an occasional glimpse was had of a vast inner apartment set with mosaics.
Before the guests, who sat on mats, were spread tempting dulces (sweets) and heaped up salvers of the strange fruits of the tropics, the butter, eggs, and custards that grow on trees.
A servant brought cups of frothing chocolate to the two women, Ahah, whose gold crowned head rose like an aureole above the sea foam green of her gown, and her mother Miriam, massive and handsome despite her years. Shem, an aged traveler from the far south, was scooping out spoonfuls of papaya, a peptonized squash, while Seantum leaned against a marble pillar, his pale face with its weak features peering luridly through clouds of tobacco smoke.
The murder of the morning was under discussion.
"Who are these Gadiantons?" asked Shem, who was a stranger in the country. "Methinks it was they who robbed a pack train of a merchant in our town. Though he carried the matter to the tribunal he could get no restitution."
"Restitution!" Miriam smiled grimly. "How can we expect justice when the Nephite officials are in secret league with the robbers?"
"They have been a menace to our nation since their organization," hastily interposed Seantum, anxious to change the subject.
"Indeed." Shem thoughtfully stroked his long beard while his Jewish face bent forward with interest.
"The chief judges have been their victims ever since Kishkumen, an unscrupulous adventurer stabbed the judge Pahoran. The good Heleman would have suffered a like fate had not a servant of his overheard the plot and killed Kishkuman first. The blackguard followers of this professional assassin were organized into a secret society by Gadianton who introduced Satan's own machinations. After that the bandits fled to the mountain where they have subsisted ever since."
"Cannot they be apprehended?" asked Shem astonished.
"They hold the mountain fastnesses and rout every army sent against them. Only occasionally do they infest the valleys to drive off the cattle," explained Seantum surprised at the other's ignorance.
"They'd do well if they drove off only the cattle," remarked Miriam sharply. "They swooped down upon a village when most of the men were away at the late war, and carried off the women and children."
"The Gadianton robbers are dreadful men." Ahah shuddered. "They brought one who had been taken prisoner to fight upon the sacrificial stone before Tubaloth, king of the Lamanites. With one foot chained to the rock and armed only with sword and shield he fought and vanquished eight warriors. The king granted him his freedom."
"They will surely punish this slayer of Cezoram," suggested Shem.
"Certainly, if they can find him."
"Must a whole nation quail before those bloodthirsty barbarians," exclaimed Ahah passionately. Remembering that it was whispered that Seantum himself, like many of the officials, was helpless against the bandits, she asked suddenly: "Seantum, why don't you lead an army against them?"
"Impossible!" returned that effeminate youth. "Perhaps our friend, the husky Lamanite, will undertake the task," he added sneeringly. "They say that Tubaloth's young men are deserting the army to join the robbers. The king has sworn vengeance on them."
"When did the Nephites have to call upon their ancient enemies for help?" interposed Miriam haughtily.
The meal was finished and despite the fuming of Seantum and the open displeasure of her mother, Ahah excused herself on the plea of illness and fled to her room Although the servants came in and lighted the torches, for the three that remained, the light had gone out.
"With one foot chained to the rock the Gadianton robber fought and vanquished eight warriors."
THE BALCONY.
Ahah threw herself in the hammock on the balcony that her apartment opened on. She was shaken with rage, but the more violent the passion the sooner does it consume itself. Destruction would have descended on the head of Hagoth, if it had appeared at that moment; as it was her anger had just three hours to cool.
The stars hung low in the tropic heavens; a nearby field was illumined by the phosphorescent glow of flitting fireflies; below a tree burst into a galaxy of white stars.
As she clenched her small hands until the nails cut the palms, Ahah was not in a mood to contemplate scenery.
"Flirting with a Lamanite frump, indeed! How do I know that Hagoth has not a dozen Indian loves among his own people?" Hitherto Ahah had been so engrossed by her condescension in loving a mere Lamanite, that the possibility of anyone else loving him had never occurred to her. That Hagoth had been whole souled in his devotion to her she admitted. Nothing wins a woman quite so quick as the knowledge that a man has staked his all on her. Else why had she stooped to love him?
Slowly she lived over their acquaintance; all the details were graven on her brain. It had been romantic from the start. The horses of the Lamanite king were running away, dragging the broken chariot behind them. The driver had been hurled out in turning the corner and Tubaloth himself was reeling, when the careening animals were stopped by the impact of a lithe body hurled full at their heads. The catapult was Hagoth who thereafter was knighted and received the order of the tiger, a distinction he valued less than the murmured thanks of a mother who caught up her little brown baby that had been playing in the road directly in the way of the runaway. Since then Ahah's every meeting with Hagoth had tightened the grip on her heart. Yet the thing that made her angriest of all was that she should care so much.
HALL OF THE MONOLITHS, MITLA
PALACE RUINS AT MITLA
When a plumed crest of sable hue loomed up above the passion flower of the balcony she started up as if she had not been looking long for that apparition.
As Hagoth swung himself easily in front of her she faced him with the accusation, "You are late."
"I have been watching the lights below for hours. I thought you were there with Seantum."
"Did he stay so long with mother? I left them hours ago—to wait here alone, while you, forsooth, amused yourself with an Indian girl—Ugh."
"Ahah!"
"I tell you, you were seen walking in the woods with her, whispering to her, carrying her basket, and they said she was pretty," she finished with a wail.
"It is a mistake. I—"
"A mistake! Look at me," she cried fiercely, "You, a Lamanite, an associate of laboring wenches, have made me weep. I, Ahah, who do not shed tears once in five years have wept this night over you." She laughed bitterly.
"But the girl gave me some information from a relative of hers."
"What could I expect, I who without reason, against the warnings of my friends, the opposition of my relatives, have squandered my attention on you."
"Ahah you possess the best part of my life, but if I am bringing you such unhappiness—"
That brought her to terms. Her face shone with transcendent light.
"See, Hagoth," she breathed earnestly, "Beautiful as this is, I lie awake nights worrying where it will end. I am too much of a coward to flee with you for I fear to fail in the new life. You must raise yourself to my station. You have youth, strength, brains and my faith in you."
"And if I win out."
"I will marry you."
"I accept the challenge. In forty days I shall return to claim my own."
Ahah looked startled. "How do you propose to do it?"
"Because of what you have promised me this night, I shall confide to you my secret, though the success of the venture itself depends on silence. At dawn I take command of a party of Lamanites that goes into the mountains to destroy the Gadiantons."
"Oh"—Ahah reeled and she felt the world slipping from under her, such terror did the name of the dread robbers inspire.
"If I win, any favor within the gift of Tubaloth, king of the Lamanites, is mine."
"If you should fail?"
"I fail! You will admit I shall have a splendid tomb, the snow clad summit of Mt. Misti."
Ahah with a moan threw up her arms to shut out the torturous vision for the Gadiantons not only murdered but mangled their victims.
He came closer; his eyes blazed with triumph; his voice was tense with suppressed emotion. "Remember in forty days you are mine," and he was gone.
Ahah threw herself against the post. "You shall not go. I tell you I won't let you," she screamed. In her desperation she almost hurled herself over the balcony, but no answer came. Hagoth had vanished into the night whence he had come. Overwhelmed with remorse for driving him on: steeped in her own misery, she lay where she had fallen until the mocking birds began to sing and the day emerged from the night like Venus, new born, from the sea.
Rising, she dashed the crumpled bell of the passion flower under her feet and entering her apartment she threw herself upon the bed.
When Abish stole softly up to tell her young mistress that the bath water was ready she found her buried among the cushions with all her clothes on, breathing heavily. Throwing a silken shawl over her, she turned and tiptoed out.
THE TRIUMPH.
Ahah lay languidly back in the boat and dabbled her white hand in the water. Seantum opposite, equally lazy, was doing nothing more strenuous than watch the sunlight on her hair of burnished copper. The servant Abish knelt in the bottom of the boat trying to bring order out of the chaos of flowers with which the craft was loaded. It was the festival of flowers and Ahah had insisted on buying some of every kind she saw. As she had selected them for their gaudiness the effect was picturesque. The boatman who stood in striped cotton garment with bare brown feet and broad brimmed hat drove the canoe along the sluggish canal by means of a pole.
They were enroute to the floating gardens of Miramar. Conversation languished while they looked at the panorama, for the canal was alive with graceful craft as this was a special feast day. There were boats loaded with poppies; others banked with pink rosebuds; more modest symphonies in purple and electric blues,—violets and forget-me-nots, like a demozel, left a fragrant trail behind them. They passed cargoes of green vegetables bound for the city, and houseboats which carried not only the family and their household furniture, but also the livestock, dogs, chickens and parrots.
Gayest of all were the flat bottomed boats filled with troubadours. These children of the sun lent the richness of their voices to the tinkle of their stringed instruments. Everyone seemed bent on merry-making, and as a lonely heart is never so desolate as when buried in a gay crowd, so Ahah felt more poignant misery by contrast.
Thirty days had elapsed since Hagoth's sudden departure. Since then she had had no word from him, and her veiled inquiries had elicited no news. "He is so bent on his man's enterprise, that he would not stop to consider a woman," she exclaimed petulantly, but her good sense told her it would not be wise for him to send her a message. Again, she was consumed with a wild fear that he was dead and during the long hours of the night saw him die twenty deaths in as many different ways. In the meantime she went calmly about her affairs and continued to endure Seantum as there was nothing else to do.
They had planned to spend the day in the rustic bowers of a planter at Miramar, but as they wound in and out among the floating gardens,—at first nothing but patches of variegated green, it was evident that some unusual occurrence was happening on shore. Market venders had deserted their stalls and women had left their meat sizzling on the brazeros,—open air stoves of clay containing glowing charcoal.
"What's the matter," called Seantum to a hoary boatman.
"They say the Gadiantons are destroyed," he answered.
Ahah was on her feet swaying in the boat, "Who did it," she cried as if her life hung on the answer.
"A Lamanite by the name of Hagoth. One of his men stopped off here. He's over in the square there now." Without waiting for the boat to stop, Ahah bounded quickly to the oozy mud of the shore and was up the bank in a moment. Running swiftly she reached the excited crowd and made her way through it. In the center she recognized one of Hagoth's lieutenants.
"You are going back to Antionum?" she queried breathlessly.
On his answer in the affirmative, she begged eagerly. "Then you will let us take you back in our boat?" She tossed him a golden seon. As if he were in his chief's secret he gladly accepted the invitation, and Seantum was doomed to hear his rival's praises lauded on the return trip which had begun so auspiciously for him.
While the warrior recited the story of the expedition in his crude way, Ahah hung on every word.
"When we started we had to hew our way through the underbrush; higher up it was easier climbing but the tropical downpour descended in bucketfuls and drenched us to the skin. Under foot it was so slimy we slipped back a step for every two we advanced. The guides lost the trail and we slunk under the trees while they found the path.
"Later we spent the night in a cave. The fire went out as it was as much a man's life was worth to descend into the barranca for wood. The roof leaked and we woke up with our heads in a pool of water.
"The next morning the ravines were raging torrents. Advancing under these difficulties we finally descried above the tree tops the misty expanse of Lake Ticaca. Like all high waters it is sullen, cold and deep. There on the shores we found the log hut of an old Nephite whose only daughter had been carried away by the Gadiantons. He had lived there as a hermit vowing vengeance ever since. He offered to act as guide and lent us his two boats. It took many trips across the lake to get all of our party over and when we reached the bluffs on the other side Hagoth's plans became apparent.
"The reason that the robber's rendezvous had never been discovered was because of the impassable ravines that hedge it in on all sides.
"Hagoth proposed to take the shortest route straight across the summit of Mt. Misti which towers eighteen thousand feet into the air. So up we climbed, up into the rarified atmosphere, among the pines and cedars. Occasionally the clouds below us parted like the veil of a Turkish beauty, affording us seductive glimpses of the tropics at reeling distances below. We passed the timber line and traveled across the lava beds, undulating hills of black ashes. Here grew a yellow daisy with frosted leaves; somewhere below the clouds lay the world; but our goal was the snow clad peak that cut the sky in two.
"The ascent through the snow was bitterly cruel; some of the men were bleeding at the nose, others found it difficult to breathe, while some, with palpitation of the heart were crawling on their hands and knees. We were all temporarily blinded by the sun on the snow.
"At the top we skirted the sulphurous crater for a mile and a half and on the other side, slid down the snow clad peak on mats. Then we had to make quick work of it, for provisions that are carried as a man pack are light.
"Six hundred feet below us in the barranca was the camp of the Gadiantons. A gruesome spectacle they made in the light of the camp fire. Despite the cold, their lean brown limbs were bare save where they had decorated them with blood. Their loins were swathed in sheepskin and their shaven heads cockaded with feathers. Altogether, we were glad that the depth of the canyon lay between us. All night we toiled loosening the great boulders of the cliff that had been eroded into great blocks. At dawn of the second day we started several of them over the cliff by way of good morning. They cut great oak trees off from their roots, and crumbled to pieces in the ravine below. They did not do much damage but they brought the robbers out from their lair. When a side of the mountain crashed down, Zorum, the leader of the band, came out and called a truce.
"Hagoth descended to parley with him; he left instructions with us to wipe out the band in case he did not return. He offered them their choice of death or surrender. The terms were that they return to civilization and become decent citizens. It is one thing to die gloriously on the field of battle, and another to have the life crushed out of you like a rat in a hole. There was no possible way of escape as before they could get out, the top of the mountain would bury them alive, leaving them all like one of their men who had already been hit by a rolling boulder and whose remains were but a mangled mass in the gulley. They surrendered. They didn't seem to be enjoying themselves much up there in the mountains, anyway. So Hagoth just brought them down with him."
Seantum, as he leaned back in the boat and heard of the success of his rival, watched Ahah's expressive face, now agonizing in fear, again exulting in Hagoth's triumph. He knew that he had lost.
By the time the victorious warriors entered the city Ahah was on her balcony waving her scarf. Amid strains of barbaric music and the hurrahs of the populace she beheld her chieftain borne through the streets in the gilded chariot of the Lamanite king. As he glanced in her direction Hagoth removed his sable plume and let the sun caress the glossy black head she loved so well. Behind him stalked the Gadianton robbers, frightful apparitions to the awe-struck people. The travel stained Lamanite soldiers brought up the rear.
During all the feasting that followed, when Hagoth sat on the right hand of the king, and the great of the nation assembled at the board to hear him lauded and glorified, the chief panted for the time when all this tinsel should be over and he should be alone with a girl and claim his reward.
ZORABEL.
THE CAPITULATION OF THE LAMANITES.
Moroni leaned back in his chair under the canopy of his tent. Another man, under the strain that the young general had passed through, would have looked wan and haggard. He possessed that inexhaustible vitality characteristic of great leaders, that can be drained heavily and still meet all emergencies.
"A messenger to see you, sir," announced a young lieutenant, pulling back the flap of the tent.
Moroni looked up to behold an Indian of powerful build. As he entered the fur mantle fell from his shoulders leaving them bare. As their eyes rested on the superb figure whose skin glittered like polished mahogany, the captains in the room ejaculated in admiration. The new comer's bold eyes scanned every face and finally rested on that of the youngest man in the room.
"I address the commander-in-chief of the Nephite forces?" he presumed.
Moroni eyed him keenly, as he inclined his head.
"Zerahemnah, leader of the Lamanites, sends greetings, and asks when he can meet you to make terms."
"Let him come at high noon to yonder eminence," replied Moroni.
The messenger bowed and silently withdrew. As his magnificent form disappeared, the captains whose composure had been perfect during the interview, threw back their heads and raised a shout of triumph. To them it meant the end of the war at practically their own terms. Hostilities had ceased since the night before. The Nephite forces, though outnumbered two to one, had triumphed over their ancient enemies. The battle had been long and stubbornly fought until night closed down to stop the conflict. The captains, picturesque in their bandages, had fresh sword cuts as proof of their valor, but even they did not know that the battle would go down in history as the greatest that the Lamanites had ever fought. The Indians were ably generaled, for Zerahemnah, himself a Zoramite, a descendent of the servant of Laban, had placed the bloodthirsty Amalekites as officers among them. Little wonder that they fought like dragons.
That the Nephites had vanquished them against such odds was due to three things: they were fighting for their liberty as the Lamanites had tried to take them into bondage; they had superior arms and were protected by armor while their dusky antagonists fought almost naked: Moroni by strategy had surrounded the Lamanites by the Nephites, had penned in Zerahemnah's forces between two wings of his own, and crushed them.
With spies he had determined the line of the Lamanite march. Then he placed one of his generals, Lehi, with his command in ambush behind the hill Riplah. When Zerahemnah advanced to the banks of the river Sidon, Lehi attacked him and finally drove him across the river.
When the Lamanites emerged dripping on the other side, they were 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 compeling 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.
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.
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!"