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The following is the ninth installment of a serialization of the novel, Abinadi by H.B. Moore. To read the previous installment, click here. More information about H.B. Moore can be found: www.hbmoore.com
Chapter Eight
He that troubleth his own house shall inherit the wind.
(Proverb 11:29)
Raquel crouched in the courtyard of her home for several minutes, listening to the sounds of the night. When she was certain that all were asleep, she crept inside to her bed chamber without being discovered.
She should have been exhausted, but her mind wouldn’t rest. Her thoughts tumbled as she pondered the powerful yet few words that Abinadi had shared about the Lord. His mother, Esther, had been right. The difference was the Spirit of the Lord. She had felt it—as if it were a tangible thing she could snatch out of the air. Yet it seemed to elude her when she reached her home. The peace and safety that she’d felt in Abinadi’s house were gone. It was as if she’d stepped from a warm patch of grass into a cold shadow. She wanted that warm feeling back.
Raquel pulled her cape tighter across her torso. She hadn’t bothered taking it off, and now the extra warmth seemed to ward off the coldness of her home. She closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift to Abinadi. He wasn’t exactly handsome in the traditional sense, but she was drawn to him. Was it his goodness, his purity? Perhaps . . . but when he’d let her inside the hut and she caught a glimpse of his injuries, something tugged at her heart. She didn’t necessarily feel sorry for him; it was more that she wanted to care for him. To prevent him from ever being hurt again. To stand between him and men like the king.
Men like my father.
Her cheeks heated with shame. Abinadi must think she was an ungrateful child, prancing around the city in the middle of the night—no respect for her parents, for protocol. No decency. He’d probably looked on her with repulsion, knowing that she was about to be presented to the king. No doubt he assumed she’d become a part of the king’s court, just as her father. He’d seemed so surprised when she’d asked him about God. She hoped he knew just how sincere she was . . .
She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, her mother was shaking her shoulder.
“You must dress in your finest clothing,” her mother’s voice said from somewhere above her.
Raquel’s body felt heavy as a fierce headache started. Then her stomach rumbled, reminding her she’d eaten very little the night before. She opened her eyes. By the brightness of her room, she realized the sun had risen well over two hours prior. She’d slept much later than usual. That meant Abinadi had probably left the city already . . . and it was almost time for her visit to the court.
Her mother was sorting through her things. She held up a set of iridescent quetzal feathers. “Wear these in your hair with your turquoise and red tunic. Wrap it tightly so your figure shows.”
Raquel opened her mouth but was too surprised at her mother’s words to answer. Her mother wanted her to impress the king! Raquel looked at her mother’s face. Itzel wore a tight, pinched look—very task-oriented. She showed no emotion in preparing her daughter for this event. It was simply a duty.
Anger flamed in Raquel’s chest; she felt betrayed. Her parents had feared the invitation from the king, and now her mother seemed to accept it—embrace it even. That meant that her father had ordered it so. Hopelessness descended on her as her mother started combing through Raquel’s tangles. Soon her hair would shine like copper. Suddenly she had the urge to run from the room and cut off all her hair. Surely the king would lose his interest then.
There was no love, no consideration for her feelings in all of this. It was as if her parents cared only for the king and would do anything to please him. Even if it meant sending their only child to live at court—a place filled with concubines, harlots, and lustful men. Had she been brought up only to serve a man in such a way? Was there no dignity left in her life? She was to be paraded as a new species, an exotic flower that would become as the rest in no time at all.
What about the king’s new wife? What did she think? Her husband’s bed was still warm, yet he was already looking elsewhere. Raquel’s stomach churned so loudly that her mother heard it.
“You must eat before we go,” her mother said matter-of-factly. “It will not do to have you look pale and piqued.” She hurried out of the room.
Alone again, Raquel slowly dressed. Her hands trembled slightly as she imagined the king’s eyes on her—assessing, desiring. If only she hadn’t stolen out the other night to the fields and returned to court with Ben . . . If only . . .
But they’d saved lives in the process.
Yet the price for doing so had suddenly become very high.
She threaded the red feathers into her hair as her mother had instructed, then she looked at her reflection in the polished metal. Staring back at her was a pair of troubled eyes.
Moments later, her mother reentered the room with a round of flat bread. “Here, eat this quickly.”
Raquel chewed on the bread as her mother cinched the tunic tightly about her waist then fastened it with a colorful sash.
“Let me look at you,” she said, turning Raquel around. She examined her daughter’s appearance for a moment, then said, “Very good. Now, be sure you look pleased to see the king.”
Inside, Raquel wanted to scream, but instead she nodded obediently. “Aren’t you coming?”
“No,” her mother said. “Your father will be here at any moment to retrieve you.”
Raquel’s face flushed at the thought of following her father through the city streets, with everyone and anyone allowed to gawk at her. It would be easy enough to guess where she was headed, and the gossip would start in no time.
The sound of her father calling from the courtyard reached Raquel’s chamber.
Raquel stiffened at her father’s voice. Her mother called back to say she was ready. “There he is now,” she said, making final adjustments on Raquel’s appearance. “Go.”
Raquel glanced over her shoulder at her mother, wondering if she’d be a betrothed woman the next time they saw each other.
She stepped into the hallway and walked as slowly as she dared to the gathering room to meet her father. He turned as soon as she appeared. For a long moment, he studied her appearance, then he nodded. “Despite what we may have discussed before, this is an opportunity that any family should be honored to have. The king is bestowing a personal favor upon us, which in return will elevate our status and privilege in the community.” He hesitated as if struggling to accept the words himself. “We need to make haste.”
Her father walked quickly, and Raquel had to scramble to keep up. She knew if her mother were with them, she’d make a comment on the need to prevent Raquel from perspiring so much—but she also knew that her heavy breathing came more from her nervousness than from the speed of their travel.
Her father turned once or twice to urge her to move faster—a look of resolution in his eyes.
“Father,” she said. “Have you and Mother changed your mind? Do you want me to please the king?”
He stopped and faced her. “You don’t understand, Raquel. If we do not please the king, then our lives will be in jeopardy. He is the king of this land—to whom we pay allegiance, no matter what.” He touched her arm, his expression one of regret mixed with determination. “You must represent our family well even if it means leaving us to join the court . . .” He looked away and shook his head. “It’s not my choice.” Then his eyes bore into hers. “Our family’s honor is at stake.”
He dropped his hand and started walking again. Raquel hurried to catch up. Tears stung her eyes, but she stubbornly refused to let them fall. Her father wanted her to impress the king. By the set of his shoulders and the firm line of his jaw, she knew there was no changing his mind now. Like he’d said, it was a matter of family honor.
Still she hoped that somehow her father might be able to prevent the king moving to the next step. Perhaps it would turn out to be just a friendly visit, and she’d return home free to marry Eli.
Raquel exhaled. Was that what she really hoped for? She didn’t want to marry Eli either, but she couldn’t let her thoughts wander too far right now. The only man she could imagine herself with had left the city, and she’d likely never see him again.
“We’re here,” Amulon said, his voice more gentle now.
Raquel snapped her head up as they passed the guards at the gate. Her father led her through an elaborate courtyard surrounded by a beautiful garden. Raquel stubbornly stared ahead. She wouldn’t let luxury or beauty persuade her. They passed another set of guards at the top of the steps then entered the massive hall. She was surprised to see it empty. The last time she’d been here, it was filled with wedding attendees, music, tables of food, dancing . . .
Her father hesitated, as if he didn’t know what to do next. Then a servant scurried from a side hall toward them. He bowed his nearly bald head before speaking. The man reminded her of Eli. Maybe this man was a scribe too.
“The king is waiting in his chambers.”
“Not in the throne room?” Amulon asked.
“He specifically requested privacy,” the servant said, his gaze landing on Raquel for the first time. His eyes narrowed, and Raquel wondered what he was thinking. Did he disapprove? What did he know about her already?
Amulon thanked him, then glanced at Raquel. Without a word, he turned and led her down the same corridor where the servant had just disappeared. It twisted several times until they reached a flight of stairs. At the base, a guard rose from his stool, his gaze sliding over Raquel briefly. He nodded to her father, and they passed without a word.
Upward they climbed, and with each step, Raquel’s chest grew tighter. But at least she wasn’t to see the king in front of his court, which was a relief; it would take away any public embarrassment.
Soon they stood before a heavy reed door. Her father knocked, and a man’s voice bade them enter. Amulon opened the door and ushered Raquel inside. When Raquel stepped into the room she was struck by two things. First, she’d never seen such display of wealth—gold chairs, embroidered cushions, long drapes, and a cage containing a pair of quetzals. Second, the king was absolutely alone.
He rose to his feet and clasped his hands together. In two strides he was at Amulon’s side and pulled him into a fierce embrace. “You’re here at last.” Noah released him and grinned. Then ever so casually he looked at Raquel, still smiling.
Amulon touched her arm and propelled her forward. “O Highness, this is my only child and daughter, Raquel.” He bowed his head.
Noah took her hand and brought it to his lips, his eyes locked on hers. “Welcome to my home. Any member of my high priest’s family is like my own.”
Raquel let out an inconspicuous sigh of relief. He looked on her as family, a child. Perhaps this was just a friendly meeting, nothing more. His gaze wasn’t probing or calculating. If nothing else, it was kind, which caught her off guard. He was about thirty-five or so, not nearly as old as she had first thought. The king’s face had a boyish quality about it, although it was apparent that he enjoyed his food and drink.
He waved toward a table stacked with fruits, cheeses, and various jugs of wine. “Would you like something to eat?” He smiled at Raquel. “I grow tired of servants doing every single thing for me. So I excused them all to enjoy a little peace.” He crossed to the table and piled food onto two plates, then handed them to Amulon and Raquel.
Her father looked just as surprised as Raquel felt. They took the plates and Noah said, “Be seated, and make yourselves comfortable. Enjoy the food.”
His behavior was definitely not what Raquel had expected. Holding the plate, she sank onto a luxurious set of cushions, almost feeling relaxed. It was so quiet here. Calm and . . . beautiful. Although they were surrounded by massive amounts of elaborate decorations, the king seemed genuine. He and her father spoke for several minutes about court business while Raquel nibbled at the food on her plate. Maybe the king wanted her as a servant to one of his wives or a nurse to his children. She relaxed a little more.
Noah rose from his spot and poured three goblets of wine. He served Amulon and Raquel again, to her surprise. She sipped the wine—it was better than anything she’d ever tasted. Then she realized the king was still standing, watching her. “Do you approve?”
He was asking if she approved of the wine? Raquel nodded.
He sat again, but this time turned his attention to her. He asked question after question—about how she spent her days, what her favorite foods were . . . Raquel answered hesitantly at first, but when her father gave her a hard stare, she tried to relax and speak more freely.
Noah encouraged everything she said and seemed truly interested. This was different from the deference Eli had paid her, and Raquel found herself second-guessing her reluctance to be presented. It wasn’t hard at all.
She had questions of her own, but she bit them back. She was sure her father would disapprove. Then suddenly Noah turned to Amulon. “Can I have some time?”
Amulon flinched, astonishment evident on his face. He cleared his throat and seemed to compose his answer. “Certainly.” He stood and bowed.
Raquel wanted to run to her father and beg him not to leave.
With a final glance at her, Amulon turned, his shoulders slightly hunched. He left the room without a backward glance.
Raquel’s pulse accelerated at being completely alone with a man—a king, no less.
She kept her eyes lowered as he crossed to her, settling on a nearby cushion. All of her previous fears returned at high speed, magnified. She tried to keep her breath steady as she examined the food on her plate. Carefully, she took another sip of wine. The king studied her and seemed to be waiting for her to say something. But she couldn’t. It was as if her throat had closed. The expression on Eli’s face when he’d found out about the presentation flashed across her mind. Then the ugly welts on Abinadi’s chest . . . Here she was, surrounded by immense wealth, but all she felt was a tortured stomach.
“My sweet Raquel,” the king breathed. He touched the hair that fell down her back. She nearly jumped. Her heart hammered with trepidation. “You are like a beautiful blossom. Radiant. Delicate . . .” His hand continued to thread its way through her hair. “You are a flower, ready to bloom.”
Raquel let her eyes close. Why did her father have to leave? Was he really so afraid of the king? Was she to become the king’s harlot now? Was there no respect for the daughter of a high priest? What about his new wife of only two days?
Noah’s hand moved to her shoulder, then along her arm. Her heart pounded with fear. She thought about the words of Father Jacob that Abinadi had quoted—For there shall not any man among you have save it be one wife; and concubines he shall have none.
A shiver ran through her as the king’s hands found her waist.
Propelled by an unseen force, she pulled away from the king and stood. She didn’t look at him as she crossed to the table of food. She put down her plate then turned to Noah. “I’m sorry.”
His face had reddened, and in one swift movement he was on his feet. Raquel sensed the anger that was about to spew forth. Fire flamed in his eyes. He opened his mouth, but his words seemed to falter for a moment, and Raquel took the opening.
“What am I to be, then?” she said in a rush, a little louder than she’d intended. But once she started, she couldn’t stop. “A harlot? A concubine? Or perhaps I’m good enough to be made your wife—one of many, to be shoved aside when the next maiden captures your eye.”
Noah’s face darkened; his hands clenched. “Watch your tongue, girl. Your father—”
“Isn’t here, and he didn’t leave me here to be exploited by you. He brought me here today at your request.” Her voice shook, but she plunged on. “I would rather die than become a tainted woman of your court. Only because I honor my father am I here.” She moved away from him, sliding closer to the door. “If you do not honor me, I will leave—”
“You dare to insult a king?” Noah sputtered. He crossed the space between them in two steps. She backed up against the door, suddenly worried that he might strike her. He grabbed both of her arms roughly and shook her. “You do not speak unless I allow it. You do not make assumptions, ever. You do as you’re told!”
She tried to pull away from him, but he held firm. Raquel was certain her father hadn’t gone far and was likely listening on the other side of the door. Why didn’t he come in and save her? She glared at the king, her anger multiplying as she realized her father had indeed left her to be fodder for the king. Some honor. Noah’s gaze bore into hers, his intentions plain.
She tried to wrench from his grasp again, but he only held tighter. Suddenly she grew still, her expression cold. “Then you’ll have to force me,” she spat.
The king stared at her, his grip relaxing. He threw his head back and laughed.
Raquel’s eyes widened as she watched him—this man was out of his mind.
When his laughter died, he grew serious again. But the anger was gone. Something else reflected in his gaze—a steely determination. He leaned toward her until his mouth was next to her ear. “I have no problem with force, but first I will make you my wife. Your father can marry us right now. We wouldn’t even have to wait.”
Suddenly his lips were on her neck, hot, greedy. She stiffened. This was not what she expected. She hoped he would cast her out of his court—disgraced, yes, but free of him. His fingers wrapped behind her neck and pulled her closer as his lips moved to hers, and she thought she would suffocate. She wanted to scream.
It’s now or never. One act would change her future so she could never return. She’d have to leave everything behind. Her father might pay a price, but the price she was paying now was too high. With all her strength she kicked Noah’s shin. He cried out, startled. It was the instant she needed. She twisted from him and opened the door.
She ran past her father who stood just outside. Barely keeping her balance she stumbled down the stairs and past a stunned guard as the king’s voice bellowed against the stone walls.
“Capture her! And when you do, I’ll need more guards at my door to keep her in.” His laughter drowned out the pursuing footsteps.
This was a game to him, and she was the hunted. A conquest.
“Raquel!” Her father’s voice almost stopped her, but he was the one who had brought her here. She would no longer listen to him.
She ran through the corridors, wondering which way she’d come. She had no idea which direction she was going or where she’d end up. At any moment, the guard could catch her and drag her back. That thought alone kept her moving faster. She skidded around a corner and ran down a long hallway. At the end, the corridor divided in two. Taking the right, she passed a large room full of people. She hesitated, and several of them turned. Some pointed, others just stared.
She turned and ran from the room, coming to the corridor again. She went left this time and ran down the narrow hallway, trying doors as she went. Most of them were locked. One opened into a small storage area, another into someone’s private chambers.
Finally she broke through a door and found herself in a small garden. She ran along the paths, searching for a gate. She couldn’t find one and was about to scale the wall when a woman’s voice spoke behind her. Raquel whirled and came face-to-face with a young lady with dark copper hair. Obviously a resident, she wore a bright cotton wrap and a feathered cape.
“What are you doing?” the woman asked. Her wide, grayish-green eyes studied Raquel with curiosity.
Raquel tried to catch her breath. Something about the woman was familiar. Regardless, the woman could alert the guards and it would all be over. Then Raquel realized who she was. She had known this woman when they were young girls. She was the king’s new wife. “Maia?”
The woman narrowed her eyes, so Raquel said, “I’m Raquel, daughter of Amulon.”
The woman’s gaze refocused, and a slight smile touched her lips. “What are you doing here?”
Horror clawed at Raquel’s stomach. The young woman was a year younger than herself and already her husband was straying—not that he’d been a faithful man from the beginning. If Raquel were caught, she’d have more in common with this dark-haired girl than she ever wanted.
“Please,” Raquel began. “I need to leave without anyone knowing. My father and the others are looking for me.” She took a deep breath, wondering how much she could tell without revealing her treason. “I’ve offended the king.”
The light shifted in Maia’s eyes, and she grew very still. “He wants you for a wife,” she said in a soft voice as she assessed Raquel. After a moment’s hesitation, she said, “No one understands more than I your need to escape. Let me help you over the wall.” She moved to Raquel, her gaze still fixed on her childhood friend.
Raquel saw a depth of compassion there—it was as if for a brief moment they were as close as sisters, sharing each other’s lives, and ready to keep the deepest of secrets.
Maia interlaced her fingers, creating a foothold for Raquel. Maia was strong and easily supported Raquel as she reached for the top of the wall.
After a bit of scrambling, Raquel perched on the top. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Maia lifted her hand in farewell, and for an instant Raquel thought she saw longing in the woman’s eyes. Here she hovered on the threshold of freedom, leaving Maia behind in a garden prison. Raquel hoped the woman wouldn’t be punished for helping her. She clutched at the vines that scaled the stone as she maneuvered her way down the other side of the wall. Once she landed on the ground, she paused, trying to calm her breath, and crouched, partially hidden by a mature cashew tree.
This side of the palace bumped against a steep slope. Above she saw the beginning of the forest. She just had to make it there before anyone spotted her, then she could run . . . where, she didn’t know.
Hearing nothing from the inner side of the wall, Raquel took a deep breath, then plunged upward, grabbing onto roots and rocks to hoist herself up the hill. The sash that her mother had so carefully tied had come undone, and she took a second to retie it. She didn’t want any evidence to point her direction. The rocky slope scraped her hands and knees, but she didn’t care. Her clothing became wet with perspiration, and the feathers in her hair jostled.
At the top of the rise, she took cover behind the first patch of trees. She waited for a moment, her heart hammering as she looked over the palace grounds. For a moment, she couldn’t tell if there was any unusual activity. A couple of people milled around by the side gate, and the garden from which she’d escaped was barely visible. Then she saw a flash of copper hair. The top of Maia’s head. Maia stood in the middle of the path, but she was still alone. Raquel sighed with relief. That meant the guards hadn’t come to search there yet.
Backing into the forest, Raquel tried to think of a plan. She had nothing with her. No extra clothing, food, or anything to carry water with. The settlement was surrounded by fields, vineyards, and sheep territory, and beyond that was the threat of Lamanites. She shuddered at the thought of coming face-to-face with ferocious men. But she was more frightened of becoming King Noah’s wife. If nothing else, the look on Maia’s face had given Raquel a glimpse of the life she’d have.
For a moment, she wished she could return home and gather some quick supplies, but she knew it would be impossible. Her father was probably on his way there to alert her mother. He might also send some men to look for her. He’d be furious, so it was that much more important that she put some distance behind her. Raquel started walking, not really knowing which direction to take, except for moving away from the palace. She’d eventually reach someone’s field, and she’d have to determine her direction from there.
Although the air was cooler beneath the shade of the trees, her back prickled with perspiration as she walked. She tried to keep a brisk pace, grateful that her night wanderings had given her the endurance to walk long distances. When the sound of a rushing river reached her, she moved quicker and arrived at a small waterfall. It cascaded and twisted to the right, then slowed and meandered along the hills that ran east of the palace. If she followed the river, it would lead her around the entire city of Nephi, then eventually past Abinadi’s home and several other homesteads before it would take her into Lamanite territory.
Raquel paused in her step. Abinadi’s house. Maybe she could gather some supplies there. A waterskin, a rug to sleep on . . . But it might be risking too much. Yet no one knew of her association with his family, and chances were that no one knew that Ben lived there too. Decision made, Raquel plunged ahead, hurrying alongside the river.
