After their journey through Achshaph Amer and his friend Heman passed through a time of rest, peace, and joy. Their path led them beside the green pastures and still waters, and though both of them had their hand on their sword ready to fight the enemy at a moment's notice, they were for a time left in peace.
Many a lesson did Amer learn from Heman, lessons of patience and humility; though if Heman had been told what his example was doing for his young friend he would have been surprised indeed. This humility was one of the chief marks of the King's servants, for they knew that every virtue they possessed, "every victory won, and every thought of holiness," was due to the King's presence—and to Him alone.
The braver the soldier, the more conquests he had over his foes, the brighter he kept his breastplate, the more humble he became, and the less inclined he was to speak of himself or of his attainments.
There were some with whom Amer came in contact who surprised him with long stories of their prowess, of the help they had given to strangers on the road, of the victories they had obtained over Temper or Discontent and other enemies; but he began to notice that when they spoke much about themselves, he often met them again on the road in a very sad condition, as they were an easy prey to the many enemies that were always on the watch to take some mean advantage of the pilgrims. Besides, Amer, knowing what bragging had done for him, could not but fear for them.
The two friends rested in the green pastures and drank deep of the still waters, and so their strength, which had been much tried during the fierce battle of the way, was renewed, their shields and breastplates shone brightly, their shoes were easy to their feet, and their helmets covered their heads from the heat of the sun.
But the soldiers of the King never have much time to rest, and Amer began to notice that every now and then Heman's hand went to his sword suddenly, as if he felt an enemy near him. The lad would have liked to have asked him what enemy was annoying him, but his companion was a silent man, and never cared to talk of himself; indeed Amer had noticed that when the conversation came round to something connected with his friend's own personal history, he visibly shrank. The lad was also aware that he knew very little of the inner history of his friend, and that many an enemy met Heman of which he (Amer) was unconscious, so that occasionally he was startled by an exclamation at his side.
Once when he had imagined from the radiance on his friend's face that he was having a time of peace, the lad was surprised at noticing a sudden change of expression crossing it, as Heman said sternly, speaking to some invisible foe,
"'Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy: when I fall, I shall arise; when I sit in darkness, the Lord shall be a light unto me,'" and at the same time his sword was plucked out of its scabbard and held up in a threatening attitude. After these encounters with his foes Heman's shield blazed with light, and a brightness from the Radiant City played across his face.
Amer himself had an easier time of it, and he supposed that the probable cause was, that being somewhat weak and unstable, the King had surrounded him with his hosts to protect him from the enemy that was surely on the watch.
It was just as they left the green pastures and still waters, that Heman and Amer caught sight of a sad looking little figure a few yards in front of them. It was that of Iddo. She was walking in a dejected attitude, and apparently unaware that just above her was an angel with a drawn sword, warding off an enemy who was doing his best to get her into his clutches.
"Iddo," said Amer, "where is your mother?"
The child was too sad even to show pleasure at the sight of her old friend.
"Mother is in the Valley of Pain," she answered, "and the valley sometimes leads to the dark river, and I am afraid."
"Fear not little sister," said Amer, "wherever your mother is she is not out of the keeping of the Great King. Neither are you. Do you know that an angel is guarding you while your mother is away. Do not you feel his wings?"
"Ah!" said Iddo, "I do not deserve the guardianship of the good angel. I wandered out of my path into the Land of Achshaph, and nearly forgot my King there, and it was only a short time after I left it that mother had to go into the Valley of Pain; and I cannot bear to think that I made some of her days unhappy while I was wandering away. I am so miserable that I feel to have no strength to fight my enemies."
"What enemies, have been worrying you?" asked Amer.
"A little family clad all in grey, called the Morbids, have been dodging my path and have done all they could to impede me; and no sooner had they left than I found that one who is near of kin to them was following me, a much worse enemy, called Depression."
"I know the fellow," said Heman.
"I could only get rid of him by crying perpetually to the King for help. And then no sooner had he left me than a worse enemy still beset me."
"What was his name?" inquired Amer.
Iddo shivered.
"Oh! I dare scarcely think of him," she said, "he had a terrible face, and the first moment I saw him I felt sure he would overcome me. His name was Doubt, and he began by asking me if I thought the King could possibly love me as He had sent mother into the Valley of Pain."
"And what did you say?"
"I did not answer at first, but began to wonder if the King had forgotten me. And then we had a talk and all that the enemy said frightened me so that I lost courage, and when he hit me I fell to the ground and did not try to hit him back."
"But did you not cry to the King for help?"
"No, I forgot to do that. But that kind old man Chisleu passed by my way and cried to Him for me. I cannot think how I could ever have disliked Chisleu or talked evil of him. He could not have been kinder if he had been my father, and if you say there is an angel walking beside me I owe that I expect to his cries. And I owe much to you too, dear Amer," she added looking up at him with a brighter face, "for already I feel happier. But I do not deserve to have you or to have the angel."
"Little sister," said Amer, "where is your Guide Book?"
Iddo fumbled in her pocket and at last drew it out. It did not look as if it had been much used.
"Mother has always used hers," she said, somewhat shame faced, "and I have never looked much at my own."
"Dear child," said Heman, who had been listening in silence to the conversation, "perhaps your mother has been taken from you for awhile to help you to read the Guide Book. It is never safe for a pilgrim, though she may have the best parent possible, to depend upon her mother's study of the Guide Book instead of her own. You did not know that in the Book it is written:—"
"'When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.' You need not have feared, or have doubted for a moment the love of the King for you. And as for forgetting you, why, a sparrow does not fall to the ground without Him knowing it."
"Then will the King never forget me?" asked Iddo, comforted.
"Your mother would forget you sooner than the King, my child."
And before long the mother and child had met again.
Belthiah said little about her experiences to her friends, but that she had passed through deep waters could not be doubted from her whole bearing, and that in the Valley of Pain she had had communion with her King, was also evident, from the radiance that lighted up her face when His name was mentioned in her hearing.
"Little Iddo," she said softly, "you need fear nothing if you have the presence of the King with you. I have found my Guide Book true."
"What does the Guide Book say about the Valley of Pain, mother?"
"'When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.' 'Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the shadow of Death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.'"
"But," said Iddo, "we do not think we shall have to go through that dark valley, mother, we hope that the King will come for us instead of our going to Him."
"I hope so, Iddo, and if I do not live to see that day I trust that my child will."
When Amer's path diverged again he found himself toiling up a steep piece of hill, somewhat weary. He had however gathered strength from the rest in the green pastures, and steadily made his way among the rocks and stones, walking carefully.
At the steepest point he saw a vision that dazzled him and made him think he was dreaming. Just in front of him was Gabrielle, dressed in white, and looking as she had looked on that evening so long ago in the Dark City. When however she turned towards him he saw that she was changed. She looked older, but her charm for him was as great as ever and he sprang to her side.
"Gabrielle!" he cried, "how came you here?"
"By a short cut," she answered lightly, "and not through the East Gate at all. I climbed over the wall of the City and have come in the hope of finding you."
"But are you then on the way to the Radiant City?"
"Certainly not," she cried, "I do not look like a pilgrim, do I?"
Amer looked at her. Her eyes were full of mocking merriment and her mouth was hard and satirical. He was at once aware that there was no mark of the King upon her brow.
"I want you to come back with me," she said, "surely you must be tired of your journey by this time, and we are tired of being without you. I miss you more than I thought I should."
Amer standing looking upon her felt his old love for her welling up in his heart. He had tried to put the thought of her away from him for long, as he found that whenever he indulged in idle dreamings the enemy took advantage of him, specially a very formidable enemy named Jealousy, whom he had met more than once. He had imagined that by this time Gabrielle had forgotten him, and he had done all he could to banish her from his thoughts. But now that she stood before him in her beauty, notwithstanding the new look in her eyes and a certain hardness about the mouth, he found his love for her was still as strong as ever.
"Come back, dear Amer," she said, holding out her hands to him, "give up the Radiant City."
"You ask an impossible thing," he answered looking at her steadily.
The very fact of his determination made her feel that he was all the more worth winning.
"Have you forgotten the day," she said softly, "when you told me that I should be your Radiant City?"
Amer turned pale.
"I would do anything in the world for you but turn back," he said gravely.
"You won't do just the one thing I ask," she said pouting, and she looked so pretty and so much like the Gabrielle whom he had loved so devotedly that his heart beat quickly, and he could scarcely restrain himself.
"I love you as my own soul," he said fervently.
Gabrielle, aware of the advantage that she was gaining, smiled.
"No, you don't," she answered lightly, "you love your own soul better than me."
At these words Amer's hand flew to his sword. He suddenly felt that the enemy was using the lips of the one he loved best in all the world to tempt him. Could it be the Devil himself? The words in the Guide Book which had perplexed him at first, but of which he had been gradually learning the meaning, flashed across his mind:—
"For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world."
"Get thee behind me," he cried suddenly, and turning round he expected to come face to face with an enemy he had not before encountered; but the foe was invisible.
"Ah! I see," said Gabrielle, "you are as mad as ever! We should never suit. We are made of different stuff;" then she added in a softer tone of voice,
"If you turn back with me, who knows but that one day I might set out on the journey with you?"
For the moment her companion hesitated, then he said:
"If I were to turn back with you you would not be likely to go forward with me! The only hope is for us to be walking both the same way."
"It would tire me to death," she said, "no, I must make up my mind to do what my father is urging all the time and marry Desmond. I only wanted to make quite sure that nothing would make you change your mind and purpose before I gave my answer. Good-bye."
As Amer watched the vanishing figure of Gabrielle, the great enemy, who has taken captive many a poor soul, sprang upon him and pierced him with poisoned darts. But, looking again and again towards the Radiant City and crying out in his agony and pain to its King, the lad kept his ground.
Harder and harder grew the fight, each gripping each with all the strength they possessed, and neither giving way for a moment. But the King was on Amer's side and there were more with him than against him, so though the fight lasted so long that he felt as if he was in a terrible nightmare and would never awake, the enemy, being resisted resolutely, began to lose heart and finally withdrew with many a bad wound. And Amer, the conqueror, fell down faint and almost done to death. But tender hands ministered unto him and sleep overtook him, sleep such as the King gives to His beloved. He awoke at last with some words of the Guide Book ringing in his ears.
"'He will not suffer thy foot to be moved; He that keepeth thee will not slumber. . . . . The Lord is thy Keeper.'"
The next time that Amer came across Heman he was struck by a new expression on his face: there was a brightness that he had not noticed before. "I am drawing near the River," he said in an awed whisper, "but I have the support of my King."
"Not yet, Heman, surely not yet," said Amer sorrowfully.
"Yes, lad. If I am not mistaken the River is near, and the last conflict with the enemy," he added, slowly, and as they turned together the next corner of the road, there loomed before their eyes a dark valley and at the end of the valley a river.
Amer's path lay along the side of the river for a time, but Heman's ended at the brink.
The lad trembled as he walked by his side, but was astonished to notice a joy on the face of his companion not at all in keeping with his own feelings; but looking far away beyond the river, he caught sight of a wonderful shining light from the Radiant City, and noticed that his companion's eyes were fixed steadily upon it.
Then suddenly without warning, what seemed like a dark cloud, came between Heman and the City.
"Ah," he groaned, "it is the enemy; pray for me, for I feel to have no strength for the last conflict. Cry to the King and cry loud for help:" and then Amer saw, as if in a dream, the cloud form itself into an army of dark figures, as if the Devil and his angels were in league to do all in their power to wrest this good soldier from the King, and he remembered the Ambassador's words,
"Some are fighting up to the very end."
As the lad cried aloud to the King for his friend, he noticed that at the edge of the river there appeared a cross which flung its shadow over Heman, and to which again and again he turned and clung. And every time he clung to the cross or got within its shadow, the powers of darkness which were surrounding him drew back as if they had received a wound. At these times Amer became aware, that even nearer than the evil spirits, who were trying to do their utmost to tear the fainting soldier from the cross, there was a band of bright angels supporting him. At last, when he swooned, and would have been drowned in the deep waters, these bright spirits carried him tenderly in their arms to a spot in the river, where a radiant figure stood, with outstretched hands, and the hands had the marks of having once been pierced with nails: while across the river came the sound of music, such as Amer had never heard nor dreamed of, and the song of a multitude of voices welcoming the warrior home.
Then the lad fell on his knees and worshipped.
"Ah," said a voice by his side, "I am too late to see the passing of one of the bravest and best soldiers that I have known," and Amer turned to see to his comfort, the figure of the Ambassador, whom he had never thought to meet again.
"Sir," said Amer, pale and trembling, "does the great enemy always attack the King's soldiers so fiercely at the end?" and he related how harried had been the last moments of Heman and with what a fierce conflict he had had to engage.
"Nay lad," he said, "but it does not altogether surprise me. The braver the soldier the harder the fight, and the enemy made one last effort to do what he has failed to do for so long. But as a rule the passing into the Radiant City is peaceful and bright. I have known soldiers who have sung with joy as they have reached the river, and who have been surrounded with a wall of fire so that the enemy could not reach them. The King knows each one so thoroughly that He will never let anyone be tempted above that he is able, 'but will with the temptation also make a way of escape.' And think of the reward that good soldier is now getting: his affliction was 'but for a moment,' and worketh for him, 'a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.'"
"I fear the River," said Amer, shivering, for his path still lay through the Valley of the Shadow.
"Nay lad, fear not," said the Ambassador. "The King does not send you help to cross it till the time to cross it comes. Has He not promised to be with you? And how do you know that you will have to pass through the River at all? The King may come in the clouds first to take His people Home. If I'm not mistaken," he added, "Depression is at your side, take out your sword, lad."
And the Ambassador was right, and Amer found that in wielding his sword, Depression departed, and that when his enemy had departed, he began to think of the light of the City on Heman's face, of the song of welcome he had listened to, and looking up to his King, he said, "'What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee.'"
"'What time I am afraid, I will trust.'"
These words were continually in Amer's mind during the next part of his journey, for he found his way led him into a gloomy forest, and looking down its long dark avenues, for a moment he hesitated.
It was indeed so dark that he wondered if it could be the way intended for him to tread; he wondered still more as on entering it fearfully, he found he could not see any distance before him, but looking down at his feet he saw that there was no mistake about it. His path lay before him, though he could only see one step at a time. He buckled his sword tighter around him and made sure that all his armour was in the right position, and with a brave heart walked boldly into the still deeper recesses of the forest.
For a short time he was comforted by the fact that far, far away, he caught a faint glimmer of light which he knew must come from the Radiant City; but after a time even this faded, and he felt himself in total darkness.
A terrible silence pervaded the place. Not even the flutter of a bird among the trees nor the sound of the faintest breeze. It was as if he were in a dead world.
The perspiration stood out on his forehead and his hands trembled as he gripped his sword. So appalled was he at the darkness and silence, that he dared not even call aloud, on the chance that there might be someone near who could come to his aid. The sense of utter loneliness amazed him. He had experienced nothing like it before. Loneliness and darkness appalled him, fearfulness and trembling came upon him, and horror overwhelmed him.
Suddenly, as faint with forebodings, he slowly and painfully made his way, seeing only one step at a time, some words from his Guide Book flashed across his mind like a sunbeam from the Radiant City.
"'Who is among you that feareth the Lord, that obeyeth the voice of His servant, that walketh in darkness, and hath no light? let him trust in the Name of the Lord, and stay upon his God.'"
"'What time I am afraid, I will trust,'" he cried, and the very fact of breaking the silence by that cry, gave him courage and comfort.
Many a time after this, during that dark journey, he called aloud to his King, and when he did so, he was conscious of a Presence quite near to him, of a Companionship that made his heart burn within him, and in the consciousness of which he was able to face the horrors of darkness that seemed likely to overwhelm him.
But at times even the sense of the Presence seemed to be hidden from him, and he had but to find comfort in the fact, that, the King had promised to be with his servants unto the end, that though unseen and unfelt, He could not be far off, so he cried out in the words of the Guide Book, many of which he knew by this time, by heart,
"'Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted in me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise Him, for His Presence is salvation.'"
At last, as he neared the end of this part of his journey, he became aware that a glimmering of light could be seen in the distance, and that with every step he took it became brighter, till at last, through a vista among the trees, he caught sight again of the Radiant City, looking brighter and more dazzling than it had ever looked before. At the sight of this he fell on his knees and worshipped his King Who had brought him safely through the darkness.
Then he rose and looked around him. Surely now his path was to lead him on and upwards, higher and higher; surely for him the darkness was past and over. He looked about eagerly for his pathway, and to his amazement found it led into the forest again, though by another way.
"Alas!" he cried, "my strength will fail me. I dare not encounter the horror of darkness again." So depressed was he that he sat him down under the shadow of a rock, and hiding his face in his hands he groaned aloud. For a long time he sat there, and as he rested, he fell asleep and dreamt.
The King stood before him; not as he had often thought of Him, radiant in power and might, with a beauty unspeakable and dazzling in its glory: but with a crown of thorns on His head, with pierced and bleeding hands and feet, with a face marred by suffering and sorrow. But, notwithstanding His bleeding feet and hands and His pierced brow, His eyes were directed towards a little wandering lamb who had strayed beyond the fold, and lay bleating on a thin ledge overhanging a precipitous cliff; and as He looked He moved towards it, though the thorns and prickly bushes at His feet opened the wounds afresh. Although the cliffs were almost impassable and the danger great, the King never hesitated; leaning over the awful abyss, He reached down till He grasped with His bleeding hands the little lamb, and lifting it up, sheltered it in His bosom.
Then Amer awoke.
Had it been a dream or had it been a vision? Whatever it was, it contained a lesson for him which changed his whole view of his journey. He was filled no longer with his own dangers and difficulties, but recognized that he had been saved to serve, and that the very reason of many of his experiences through which he had passed, was not merely to make him more fit for the Radiant City, but that he might be able to sympathize with other travellers and help them on the way.
On learning this he rose. But for him the darkness was lightened by many a glimpse of the Radiant City, and he found the forest silent no longer.
As he made his way along his path he constantly met other travellers, faint with fear or oppressed by the enemy Depression, or Despair, and he cheered them so that they had the courage to meet their foes in battle, and to overcome them.
To Amer's great surprise he met the last person whom he would have expected to meet in such a place.
He came upon a man lying prone upon the grass. At his first look at him he thought there was no life in him, but on coming closer he discovered that it was Chisleu, faint and weary. His face had lost its energy, and he had no words even with which to greet Amer. He looked at him with sad and dreary eyes, so unlike his former self, that the lad almost doubted if it could be he.
"Chisleu," he exclaimed, "is it you?"
But Chisleu did not answer, he still looked wearily up at Amer without a word. Then, noticing compassion written large across his friend's face, he groaned.
"Friend," said Amer, "are you in pain?"
"Aye, aye," answered Chisleu, "I'm in pain of body and mind. I'm in the dark, friend, in the dark."
"And not only in the dark," said Amer, glancing about him, "but in the hands of Despondency, Depression, and Despair."
"What, what," cried Chisleu, excitedly, awakened out of his torpor, and aroused to action, "do you mean to say it is the work of the enemy?"
"Surely, what else could it be?"
"I thought," said Chisleu, "the King had forgotten me."
"It is not the King who has forgotten you, but the enemy who has thought of you. The King never forgets His own. Had you been looking around you instead of giving up as if all were lost, you would have recognized it as the work of the three enemies which I now see hidden among the trees."
"Ah!" sighed Chisleu, "you do not know the terrors of this forest, I am overwhelmed by them."
"Friend, I know even too well," answered Amer, "I have been in it a long time."
"It is a place of horror and the darkness of death," said Chisleu.
"And I should be in the same state as you at this present moment," said Amer, "had it not been for the help of my King."
"And yet," said Chisleu, raising his head to look more earnestly at him, "you look as if you were upheld. Have you really experienced such horror as I have?"
"Such darkness that even now I scarcely dare to think of it. But since then I have seen a vision of the King which has turned my darkness into light. I think I can even thank Him now for the lessons He taught me in the darkness. But come! I will help you to rise, and if the enemies attack you again, I will add my sword to yours. I do not wonder that they met you by the way, Chisleu, and were so determined to overcome you. It was only natural that such a good brave soldier, who is always on the look-out for those who are in sorrow or need, should be attacked by the enemy. You have done too much good for him to forget you, or to leave you alone. As for me, I have only just learnt that I am saved to serve."
"Ah, friend, you little know me," sighed Chisleu, "the mistakes I have made! and the way I have judged far better people than myself, and have tried to set them right according to my own judgment! Nay, I felt sunk so low and that I was of so little good on the road, that I feared my King had forgotten me, when I found myself in such a dark place. But," he added, rising, "if you are right, and this misery comes from the enemy, and is not that I am forgotten in the Radiant City on account of my sins, I will take courage."
"I understand now," said Amer, "why my way led me again into the forest. The King was thinking of you, friend, and sent me to help one who in the past has helped me."
"Helped you!" exclaimed Chisleu, astonished, "nay, lad, I remember nothing of the kind. I am a good-for-nothing fellow who meddles with every one I come across, thinking to do them good. I am the fool who steps in where angels fear to tread."
"Had it not been for you," persisted Amer, "I might still be in the City of Achshaph. You were the one who first tried to arouse my conscience and to make me see my danger. But come, we must not linger."
So these two brave soldiers buckled their swords closer and set out side by side, as long as their path lay together, to fight the enemy and to help the wounded. And many a one had to thank their King for them, and called them both by the name of Ahiezer—Brothers of Assistance.
At last the forest came to an end, and their ways parted.
Once again in the broad sunshine Amer breathed in the fresh air with delight and gratitude. His way led through fields full of brightly coloured flowers. The air was laden with their scent, and vibrated with the song of birds. Having so lately emerged from such a dark and dreary passage, the sunshine, the sounds, and the scents, filled him with delight, and that which rejoiced him still more was the fact that his path lay up the side of a hill, and every step he took found him higher, in fresher air, with a clearer view of the Radiant City. He had the joy also of meeting his old friends Belthiah and Iddo, who, after welcoming him, looked earnestly in his face.
"Amer," they said, "you have grown into a man since last we saw you. There are marks of victory and strength on your face. You have passed through some great experience."
"I have been in the dark forest," he answered gravely, for even now the remembrance was painful to him, "and I found light in the darkness."
Amer's path did not lay long beside that of his friends. He parted from them at the top of a beautiful green hill, dotted over with flowers.
He had been climbing ever since he had left the dark forest, but now as he looked up and saw the towering mountains before him, the green hill dwindled to a valley in his estimation. Stern rocks and steep precipices confronted him, as after waving his farewell to his friends whose path still lay along the gentle slopes, he eagerly set out alone again on his journey.
Where his path would lead him he did not know. He only knew he was on the way to his King, and instead of having to walk through the darkness, he was to scale the heights, and somewhere, far, far above him was the Radiant City.
He opened his Guide Book to make quite sure of the way, and though within its pages he found words which strengthened him and encouraged him, he also found a warning which he pondered over for some time.
"'Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall.'"
Clasping his Guide Book in one hand and his sword in the other, he continued to mount. The way at first was not difficult. It was a gradual slope by the side of high cliffs, and occasionally out of the rock there flowed past him a stream of cool water, with which he quenched his thirst. The scenery was magnificent, but all the time he felt conscious, that though the enemies of the road had as yet made no sign of their presence, they were not likely to be far off, so that it was not wise to loiter on the way.
As he ascended higher the path became steeper, the scenery more awful in its character, but the air was exhilarating. Frowning precipices confronted him, masses of rocks piled one on the top of the other rose before his view, deep gorges and chasms lay beneath him. Wherever he looked he was fascinated by its grandeur and awed by its impressiveness.
Higher and higher his path led him, till he felt himself to be at so giddy a height that he trembled, though rejoicing.
He remembered when he had first started out on his journey, mounting a hill and crying out in his exuberance of spirits and pride,
"'I shall never be removed: Thou Lord of Thy goodness hast made my hill so strong:'" and he recollected how the words had scarcely left his mouth, when the enemy, Spiritual Pride, in all his grand trappings, had accosted him and led him to what might have been his ruin. How soon he had had to change his cry and say:—
"'Thou didst turn Thy face from me and I was troubled.'"
The remembrance of those days, together with the warning he had read in his Guide Book, kept him on the watch, and forbade him thinking of his own strength or ability. And whenever he was tempted to think that he must be a brave soldier to have been led by this path, he put the thought away from him; he knew when such thoughts crossed his mind that the enemy was near.
At last, at a giddy height he came to a standstill, discovering that his path lay across a narrow bridge which spanned a deep, dark gorge, so deep and so dark that Amer could not see the bottom.
The bridge was nothing but a natural arch of rock, about a foot wide, with no protection on either side. At so giddy a height was it that he nearly fainted at the sight. It seemed to him that it was impossible not to fall, and to cross it was to court death. Moreover as he stood leaning on his sword at the edge of the gorge across which he had to go, he became aware that the rocks and cliffs were riddled with caves, and far down below he caught sight of small figures moving in and out of them, figures which, as his eyes became accustomed to the dim light, he saw were clad in darkness and gloom.
They were in a state of excitement, as if preparing for a great event, for they were running to and fro, intent on some business. It would be into their care he would be hurled were he to lose his footing.
Looking still more steadily down, he became aware of what looked like a regiment of armed soldiers about half-way down the cliff, and their armour he recognised as that of the soldiers of Spiritual Pride, red and gold. These were not busy as those further down seemed to be, but were standing perfectly still, with bows and arrows in their hands, the arrows being directed towards the narrow bridge across which Amer's path lay.
At the sight his courage failed,
"I must perish! I must perish!" he cried, while the veins stood out on his forehead like cords, so great was his fear and anguish of mind.
At these words he suddenly felt his ankles twitched and on looking down he beheld his old enemies, the Morbids, clinging about him. But with a sudden angry blow from his sword they fled. He would have nothing to do with them.
He looked around for a way of escape. Could he have missed his path? Was there not the choice of an easier road? not perhaps so honourable but less terrifying by which he might avoid the bridge? But no! There was no sign of any other way but that which he felt he could not possibly take.
Then he bethought him of his Guide Book. Was there any word therein which might comfort him in this great strait? And there he found that instead of one passage there were many which seemed exactly to fit his need: they were as follows:—
"'Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold him with the right hand of my righteousness.'"
"'I will guide thee with mine eye.' 'Looking unto Jesus.'"
"'My strength is made perfect in weakness.'"
As he read, his courage returned to him, and he prepared for the effort.
Fully clad in the King's armour he set his foot on the bridge, and to his comfort he noticed that right across it there was flung the shadow of a cross, and that every step he took placed him more within the shadow which wrapped him round like a wall. He was conscious at the same time of the noise of arrows whizzing fast past him. Some indeed were so well aimed as to light on his breastplate and shield, but glanced off leaving him unhurt. Others fell thick around his helmet so that he was almost deafened by their noise, and had it not been for the fact that he knew he was enwrapped by the shadow of the Cross, would so have unnerved him, that he must have fallen. For there were not only the poisoned arrows of the soldiers belonging to Spiritual Pride falling around him on every side, but there was the dark abyss below him, in which he knew the allies of Despondency and Despair were making ready and preparing for his fall.
Moreover whenever he thought of them or for a moment looked down, he tottered. He found his only safety lay in looking towards the Radiant City, where dwelt his King. And whenever he directed his eyes upwards, he was conscious of a wonderful peace stealing over him, peace even in the midst of hurling darts, and the hisses of the arrows striking his armour.
So full was Amer of gratitude and thanksgiving to the King for preserving him in his great danger, and so conscious of His Presence, that he had not seen a small band of pilgrims awaiting him on the other side of the bridge, and was taken quite by surprise, when, on arriving in safety on firm ground, his hands were grasped enthusiastically, and words of welcome were showered upon him. So little had he thought of his own courage or ability in passing unscathed through the darts of the enemy, and so full had he been of thoughts of his King, that when he heard the exclamations of wonder at his prowess from those who gathered around him, he began for the first time to think of his own part in the matter.
The pilgrims, who had been led by a less conspicuous path, and had arrived just in time to see Amer, notwithstanding the many darts from the enemies below which were being hurled at him, calmly walking with his eyes raised towards the Radiant City across the dangerous pass, fell to praising him and congratulating him, and among their voices Amer recognised those of Belthiah and Iddo.
"Dear Amer," cried Iddo, clasping his hand within hers and looking at him with eyes that shone like stars, "we are proud to call you friend. How much you must be thought of by our King to have been led by such a path, so high and so dangerous. I am glad that you are my friend."
"You are an example to us all," said another. "Oh that I had more courage and more faith. We shall not forget what we have seen to-day."
"How was it," asked a third, "that you walked so straight and did not falter? I know few who could have crossed unscathed as you have done. The height alone is enough to have made any man giddy and lose his head."
"It was no doing of mine," said Amer, but the praise was sweet to him.
He had not seen some half-dozen of the soldiers of Spiritual Pride, having been foiled of their endeavour to bring him to ruin while crossing the bridge, leave their posts and begin hurriedly to scale the rocks so as to meet him as he landed in safety on the other side; and he did not know that the thoughts which began to course through his mind at the words of his friends, were in reality small poisoned darts thrown by these same enemies.
Meanwhile he stood listening to his new and old friends' congratulations, with a sense of pleasure: and so well did his enemies do their work that he gradually began to talk to his friends of his sensations when on the bridge, and with a comfortable sense of superiority gave helpful advice, as he thought, to those around him who might be called upon to endure a similar experience. Indeed he began to think of himself as a hero, and as his path lay for some time in the same direction as that of many of the pilgrims, he found himself listening with interested attention to the talk of some who were behind him and who were making him the subject of their conversation. In fact he became greedy of human praise, and was quite vexed with one of the pilgrims who had all the time maintained silence.
This pilgrim was a man some years older than Amer, who often looked at him earnestly but did not add one word of praise to those which were being showered upon him. Amer noticed too, with chagrin, that this man took pains to walk continually by his side, which effectually prevented others, who were greater admirers, from getting near him.
At last so earnest was the man's look and so grave, that Amer felt impelled to enquire as to its cause.
"Friend," he said, "may I know your thoughts?"
"I will give them if you wish," was the answer, "but I fear they will not be such as you are accustomed to hearing. Nevertheless, I take such an interest in you and am so anxious that you should in no wise disappoint our King, that should you desire it I will tell you what is in my mind."
Amer, having by this time become accustomed to praise, changed countenance, and an expression which till now had been foreign to his face crossed it, but he answered,
"I am ready to hear."
"It is sad," said the man slowly, "how one pilgrim can hinder another. These fellow soldiers around us have, it seems to me, been used by the enemy to your hurt."
"Indeed?" said Amer, coldly.
"Friend," continued the man, "you did not see what I saw, the soldiers of Spiritual Pride scaling the cliffs and take their position by your side."
Amer looked round sharply.
"I see no sign of them," he said.
"Nay, but do not you know by this time, that those who they attack are very often the last to perceive their presence."
"Well," said Amer, "I do not know after all, even if what you say is true, why I should be so surprised. They generally attack the bravest soldiers of the King."
The man looked at him sadly.
"Disappoint not our King," he urged. "He has done so much for you in saving you when in such peril; I pray you to keep humble, and to remember that you owe all your safety to Him and not to your own prowess."
"You speak truly," said Amer, in a somewhat superior tone of voice. "No one knows better than I, that great truth; but I think perhaps you forget that it may dishonour the King as much to deny what He has done for you—the courage He has given you, the wisdom He has imparted to you—as to speak too much of it."
The man who was old enough to be Amer's grandfather did not resent the sermon that had been delivered with a certain amount of conceit. But he was silent for a moment. Then looking quietly with his clear penetrating eyes at his companion, he said slowly,
"'Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall,'" and with the words he left Amer and followed his own path which at that moment led away from that of the other pilgrims.
Amer looked after him with mingled feelings of vexation and respect. Then remembering the words just spoken, turned him about to see if he could detect any signs of his enemies. But they had carefully hidden themselves.
His sober reveries were disturbed by the voice of one of the pilgrims.
"We are thankful that our path leads us the same way as yours for a time, as we feel we have the advantage of your company. You have had so much more experience than we have that we know we shall be safe following your example and advice. No doubt you will be able to point out dangers in the road and will be the first to detect the presence of the enemy."
The words which would have filled Amer with pleasure a few moments before, had now rather the opposite effect, because of the conversation which had so lately taken place.
"Nay friend," he answered in a depressed tone of voice, "I do not see that my example is worth much, neither am I capable of giving you any better advice than others."
"It is only your humility that makes you say this," answered his companion. "I have always known that the bravest, noblest, most courageous of the King's servants are the most humble;" and at these words the other pilgrims, Belthiah and Iddo among them, drew near, and asked him for his experiences and for instruction.
Amer found it a much pleasanter occupation to listen to them than to the warnings of the stranger. But he did not know that as he talked, the expression of his face gradually altered, and the light from the Radiant City became dimmed to him. He was now full of himself, and talked freely about his experiences on the road; and the enemies which followed him just out of sight, but near enough to throw their darts through the chinks of his armour, which was beginning to hang about him loosely, laughed to themselves. The rule, which they always looked at before they started forth to warfare, "Get the man to talk of himself," had been most successfully obeyed.
As the pilgrims turned a corner of the road they came in sight of a child sitting alone, and crying.
A short time ago Amer would have gone to his aid at once and befriended him, for was he not one of the Brothers of Assistance? But now he looked around and at his glance one of the company took the matter in hand.
"It is as well," thought Amer. "That is a work anyone can do, it does not require talent nor any special capability to attend to or help a child. Anyhow it is not my work, as it would be a waste of my powers. My business is to lead others: all these people are hanging on my words and I must not disappoint them."
The people who thronged around Amer were not all of the same position of life. Some of them wore more costly garments than others, and their manner and conversation proved them to be superior in culture and intellect.
An enemy with whom Amer had had to do while staying in Achshaph, took advantage of this fact to tempt him.
"It will be to your advantage," he whispered, "to make much of these influential people."
Amer did not recognize the voice of the enemy, so his sword lay idle in its scabbard, and he began to pay more attention to the cultured pilgrims than to the humbler ones among them. But at times he felt uneasy, and certain words he had read in the Guide Book recurred again and again to his mind: "'My brethren, have not the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory, with respect of persons.'"
"But," whispered the enemy, when he found Amer thinking of these words, "to be popular with these influential people means that you will attract a crowd to hear your good advice, and so it will help rather than hinder the King's work." And so, for awhile, Amer was noticed to spend much of his time with them, to the neglect of the poorer among the pilgrims, and so well did his enemies do their work, that he was quite unconscious that the Radiant City was growing dim to his eyes.
But the young girl who had stayed to succour the child was before long seen hurrying after him with a face full of joy.
"Oh how good it was of you," she cried to Amer, "to let me do that bit of work. The poor little boy was sick and suffering. As I tended him and tried to dry his tears, a bright angel came from the King to take him to the Radiant City; and," she added in a soft, awed tone of voice, "the angel gave me a message from the King."
"A message?" repeated Amer.
"Yes," said the girl softly, "a message straight from the King Himself."
"What was the message?"
"' Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me.'"
Amer was silent and ashamed, while a sudden craving for his King's approbation took possession of him, and made him realize for the first time that the Radiant City had almost faded from his sight and that he was out of touch with it. It was with a start that he noticed its dimness. Was the stranger right then? Had he through pride and carelessness drifted into the hands of the enemy? He grasped his sword, which for some time had hung idle by his side, and cried out to his King.
It was with grief that the band of pilgrims watched Amer out of sight as his path diverged from theirs.
"But," they said, "we could not expect to have his company long. The King has other plans for him than to help and lead such a small band of pilgrims."
"Have you noticed," said one of them, "that his advice has not been of late so ready for us, that he has grown graver and sadder?"
"Yes," answered his companion, "he seemed to lose his zeal and his assurance, and to be weary."
"It is tiring climbing to the heights," said a third, "as for me I would rather be led through the valleys. I like lowly paths best."
"Anyhow," said another, "we are saved the enemies that often attack those whose path leads them to the peaks. We are not so strong and brave as Amer, and would not be able to overcome them as he has done."
But Amer himself, as he began to descend into the valley through which his path lay, was filled with sadness.
Depression walked by his side, while the family of Morbids held fast hold of his ankles so that his footsteps dragged heavily. He had no courage to fight them or to resist them. So far away seemed the Radiant City and his King that he felt it was almost impossible to look up, and his path lay down, down, down, into the Valley of Humiliation.
He began now to remember how that good soldier, Heman, had shrunk away from anything in the form of praise, how he would never talk about himself, and was always on the watch against the enemy Pride.
He remembered how on the occasion when Belthiah had been asked the secret of her peaceful aspect, Heman had hastily looked around him in search of the enemy, warning her that he was listening for her answer.
He remembered too how, when imprisoned in the cave belonging to Spiritual Pride, he had read the rules that were to be followed by his soldiers, and that one of them was to persuade the man they were in league against, to talk of himself.
He recognized, too, the fact, that all the time he had been deceiving himself into believing that he was praising his King he was praising himself, and he recollected the words of the old pilgrim which at the time they were spoken had filled him with vexation: "Disappoint not our King."
And had he not disappointed Him? Ah! how much!
As Amer descended into the valley, filled with these thoughts, a great hunger took possession of him, a hunger for the Presence of his King and for His approbation. After all, what did the flattery of man matter in comparison with one word of praise from his King. All those who had hung upon his lips, listening to his advice and to his experiences, had probably by now forgotten him: while the King, Whom he had neglected, was still loving him and thinking of him.
In the old days, Amer might have fancied that his sin had robbed him of the love of his King. But he knew his King better now, and he had read in his Guide Book, that "'neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature'" could separate him from the love of his King. So he knew that He must be still looking down in love and pity upon him; although his sins had come as a cloud to hide Him from his sight. And at the thought of His love, of His tender compassion, of His patience with him, notwithstanding his many falls, and the constant disappointments he had caused Him, a great longing took possession of his soul, and he cried out in the words of the Guide Book,
"'My soul thirsteth for Thee, my flesh longeth for Thee in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is.' 'As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after Thee, O God.'"
At last, as he reached the bottom of the valley, he perceived a cross standing in the midst of the path along which he had to tread, and with a cry of gratitude he flung himself beneath its shadow, and a great peace stole in upon him; the peace of sin forgiven.
Spiritual Pride's soldiers, who had been following at a distance, hoping for an opportunity of wounding him again, and anxious lest Amer should altogether escape them, at the sight of the cross and of the prostrate figure of the young soldier at its foot, felt that their power was almost gone, and leaving only one to keep watch at his elbow, and to give them a warning should a likely chance occur again of wounding him, turned back to worry and annoy some other poor traveller. But the man they had left behind felt his post to be a discouraging one, as Amer, on rising to continue his journey again, was on the watch, so that Spiritual Pride's emissary could not get near him.
Once however while Amer was resting on his journey, the enemy managed to gain his ear for a moment.
"How changed you are," he whispered, "you are greater than you have been before, because you are humbler. You never talk of yourself to the passers-by, but always manage to turn the conversation when it is about you. You are getting as humble as Heman."
Amer was rather drowsy when these thoughts entered his mind, but suddenly he recognised the source from which they came, and rising, fully awake again, he dealt such a blow at the enemy that he fell at his feet, dead.
Amer's love for his King had so grown, that now his one great longing and aim was to please Him, and remembering his King's words to the young girl who had tended the little boy across the dark river, and finding them written in his Guide Book, he looked out for the weakest and smallest of the pilgrims that came across his path, to help and to succour them. The people whom others passed by and neglected, became now dear to his heart as he recognised that in serving them he was serving the Great King.
And these did not often happen to be the noblest, the bravest, or the most interesting among the pilgrims, but just the reverse. Many of them would have been wholly uninteresting to Amer, had it not been for the fact that they belonged to his King, and were dear to Him.
"Amer has changed," said one of his friends who had listened with such rapt attention to his words of advice before he had trodden the Valley of Humiliation. "He does not attract crowds around him as formerly; do you not remember how they would walk by his side to catch every word that fell from his lips, even the noblest and the greatest of the pilgrims felt they could learn from him, and followed him."
"You are right," answered the person addressed, "he certainly has not such an audience as formerly, and is not so popular; that is to say people are not drawn to him as they used to be, but I am not sure that they are not drawn more to their King after talking with him."
"Do you think so?" said the former speaker questioningly.
"I have noticed," answered the other, "that many, after talking with him, soon leave him, but go away with their lips moving in prayer, and their eyes raised to Heaven."
"So that in thinking less of him, you believe they think more of their King?"
"I am sure of it: I happened to walk beside him a short part of the journey not long ago, and I was struck, not by what he said, but by what he did. He never seemed to think of himself, but was always on the look-out to help others, but in such a quiet way that had I not been watching him closely, I should never have noticed it. It had the effect of making me go and try and do likewise."
Belthiah and Iddo's path had led them for a long time across a flower-besprinkled plain. There were no hills to mount and no valleys to descend, and their path had for the most part been even and uneventful.
They had not however been free from the enemy. The little sprite, Worry, had more than once taken hold of Belthiah, and had left its wounds visible across her brow: and his comrade, Foreboding, had occasionally thrown her in the way of Despondency, a troublesome enemy, whom she had to fight bravely before overcoming; but she had had seasons of great happiness because of the conscious presence of the King.
Iddo also had had her battles.
Indolence more than once attacked her, specially when he saw her becoming interested in her Guide Book; for after Heman's advice not to depend upon her mother's study of the Book, but to study it for herself, Iddo had often consulted it: nevertheless she was by no means well versed in it, and Indolence so constantly attacked her with success that she made but poor progress. Neither did Discontent and his comrade Irritability leave her alone; sometimes Belthiah looked with anxiety at her child when she saw how easily she gave way to these enemies.
They were about half-way across the plain when their paths met those of another mother and daughter, with whom they joined company.
Iddo was delighted to have a companion, and the two girls for many a mile followed their parents hand in hand.
Adin,* for such was her name, had much to tell, having met many more people on her journey than had Iddo, and the latter learnt much from her of which she had been ignorant. Among other things, Adin told her that there were people who were apparently journeying towards the Radiant City with views quite contrary to her mother's.