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The following is the fifth 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 Four
He that sacrificeth unto any god, save unto the Lord only,
he shall be utterly destroyed.
(Exodus 22:20)
Abinadi instinctively moved in front of Seth. The short time they’d spent speaking was long enough for Abinadi to know that protecting the boy would be advantageous. Seth knew a surprising amount about the elders. Abinadi hoped to keep the alliance friendly.
As the first men stepped into the clearing, Abinadi heard the sharp intake of breath come from Seth. “Gideon,” the boy whispered.
Sure enough, the unmistakable form of Gideon was thrust forward, his arms held by two burly Lamanites. Anger flooded through Abinadi as he watched them twist the Teacher’s arms painfully behind him. The other elders came into view—all propelled by about a dozen Lamanite warriors.
“They’re going to kill us,” Seth whispered.
Abinadi nodded. He’d never seen Lamanites in full warrior dress, but the men who had started to surround them were clearly battle ready.
“Move to the center,” one Lamanite shouted, obviously the leader. The front part of his head was bald, shaved clean, and two plaits of hair extended to his shoulders. His arms and face were painted a dark color—almost black. And he wore a breastplate over his torso. He wielded a huge sword the length of five hand-spans. Its wooden blade was stained a dark red—the blood of many victims. Protruding obsidian spikes edged the sword, giving it an even more deadly appearance.
Behind Abinadi, Seth tried to stand. “Wait,” Abinadi said under his breath. “They haven’t brought all the prisoners yet.”
More Lamanites entered the clearing, the rest of the elders in tow. Abinadi scanned the men, knowing each and every one. Nathan, Ezra, Timon . . . Then he stopped. Where was Ben? The young boy wasn’t with the others. He hoped this was good news.
The elders were forced to the ground. They crumpled down with the shepherds, and Abinadi caught the stoic gaze of Gideon. There was no fear in the man’s eyes as the Lamanites proceeded to tie everyone’s feet together. Then the warriors stood at attention, swords trained on the huddled mass of prisoners as the Lamanite leader paced before them with a smirk on his face.
Every so often he shouted an order to one of his men, but it amounted to nothing more than moving a prisoner from one side of the circle to another. Two of the warriors were clearing brush and grass, turning over the dirt in a wide oval then outlining the shape with rocks.
When Abinadi realized what they were doing, a horrible ache took over his stomach. At the same time the thought passed through his mind, Seth spoke. “They’re making a sacrificial mound.”
Abinadi nodded. When warriors were traveling and didn’t have access to one of their graduated and elevated temples, they created mounds of earth instead. After an enemy was caught, the warriors would sacrifice the strongest prisoner—by offering his still-beating heart to their god.
The Lamanite leader wasn’t randomly moving prisoners about. He was assessing them, trying to determine who was the strongest.
The next person to be moved was Seth. A Lamanite ordered him to stand, then roughly pushed him until he took his place at the opposite side from Abinadi. With a sinking heart, Abinadi saw that only he and Gideon remained at their end. It was between the two of them. Abinadi was no soldier but had probably been picked because of his size and physical condition. I’m not a fighter, he thought, just a simple farmer. But if he could protect Gideon’s life this way, then tonight he’d stand as the strongest warrior.
Before Abinadi could state his case, Gideon jumped to his feet. “I’m the leader here, take me!” he shouted.
Several Lamanites lunged toward Gideon, grabbing his arms to restrain him. But it wasn’t necessary. Abinadi recognized the passive look in the elder’s eyes. Gideon was going as a lamb to the slaughter.
A couple of the other elders stood to interfere in Gideon’s path, but they were quickly shoved aside.
Abinadi stared at Gideon’s retreating back. Their leader was closer to God than any other man Abinadi knew. Gideon was a never-ending well of wisdom and compassion. To lose a leader like this was to lose contact with God Himself. Without another thought, Abinadi rose to his full height. “He tries to protect me. Here am I. Take me instead.”
Gideon whirled, oblivious to the Lamanites jockeying for position. He stared at Abinadi in surprise, which he quickly covered up with determination. “No, I am the leader of these people. This man is but a guard.”
The Lamanites laughed. The leader strode to the two men and stood between Gideon and Abinadi, looking from one to the other with interest.
Abinadi moved forward, meeting the gaze of the Lamanite leader. “I am younger and stronger. My heart will pay your tribute.”
The Lamanite folded his arms across his broad chest, the many scars on his shoulders radiating in the moonlight. “You both want to die?” A grin stretched across his face, and for a brief instant Abinadi thought both he and Gideon might be sacrificed . . . all their bravery for naught.
But the Lamanite leader took a step back and clapped his hands together. “You will fight for it. If you lose, your heart will be cut out tonight.” He gave a curt nod and cut the ropes that held Abinadi.
“And the one who wins?” Gideon shot out.
“Will be the leader for one more day.”
I’ll lose the fight, Abinadi thought. Then Gideon will continue to teach the people. He turned to face the Teacher, but another man stood in his place. Apparently he and Gideon were each to fight their own fight. There would be no advantage gained by intentionally losing; he needed to fight for his life. Abinadi looked up at the huge warrior. It wasn’t often that he met someone taller than he, but this man was enormous. His head was completely bald except for one plaited lock at the nape of his neck, and strange circular scars marked his face, as if they had been carved there on purpose. Abinadi wouldn’t be surprised if he wrestled the animals he hunted to the ground, killing game with his bare hands.
The Lamanite grunted, his nostrils flaring. Then he leaned forward, moonlight glancing off the knotted muscles in his shoulders. His expansive chest heaved with anticipation. The man held no weapon. I was right, Abinadi thought with no satisfaction. Before he could take any sort of defensive position, the first blow landed. Abinadi reeled, his jaw smarting. He brought a hand to his face and took a step backward. The Lamanite lunged again. Abinadi leapt sideways and avoided the worst of the attack, but the Lamanite caught hold of his legs, and Abinadi dropped to the ground.
Vaguely, he heard yelling, or cheering, coming from the shepherds. Or was it the Lamanites? He managed to kick free of the bulky fighter. He scrambled to his feet, his mind spinning. The offender’s black eyes didn’t hesitate, and Abinadi twisted to avoid another blow to the head. They stumbled to the ground again, and the Lamanite managed to get one arm securely locked around Abinadi’s neck, the other wrenching his right arm backward.
With his left hand, Abinadi reached for the man’s head and yanked his long plait. The Lamanite’s head snapped back, giving Abinadi just enough room to smash his forehead against the man’s nose. The warrior screamed out in pain. Abinadi used the instant of agony to angle his knees and push the man off of him, then pin him to the ground. Intuition kicked in, and he pressed his full weight against the man’s neck. The Lamanite slipped into unconsciousness.
The sounds of the men came into focus and Abinadi looked up, surprised to see the shepherds and elders hooting and hollering. Two legs stopped in front of him—the Lamanite leader grinned. “Care to join my army?”
Abinadi started shaking his head, then heard an awful, high-pitched cry. Everyone turned to look toward the trees as several dozen Nephites stepped into the clearing from all sides. They were surrounded.
Relief surged through Abinadi. He rose to his feet, his body trembling from both pain and exertion. They were saved.
Someone shouted, “Amulon!”
A mighty man stepped forward, decorated in military dress—breastplate, headgear, and a shield. He held a long sword in front of him. Abinadi glanced from Amulon to the Lamanite leader. The fear was plain in the Lamanite’s eyes. They were outnumbered at least three to one. Amulon cocked his head to the side, and every Nephite took one step forward.
The Lamanites edged toward each other, looking to their leader for instruction. The Lamanite leader kicked the warrior who’d fallen. “Get up.” But confusion was apparent in the fallen man’s eyes. He staggered to his feet, his chin and neck bloody from his broken nose. But it took only an instant for the man to see the surrounding Nephites.
The warrior panicked and took several steps backward, then turned and ran, plowing right into two startled Nephites. Mayhem broke loose. The Lamanites tried to run—some of them escaping—but most of them were subdued quickly by Amulon’s men. Once the king’s men had transferred the ropes that bound the shepherds and elders to the Lamanites, Amulon stood before the group.
“On the order of King Noah, we’ll escort you back to the city.”
Abinadi had moved back to Gideon’s side. They shared one look that forged an indestructible bond of kinship.
As the former captives started to follow the soldiers, Amulon said, “Wait.” He moved toward the group of elders. “The king commands an audience with you tonight. Your hardships are not yet over.”
A faint chill touched Abinadi. The elders were not favored by the king; in fact, some of the practices they performed had been outlawed in the city of Nephi. Never mind that the elders didn’t actually practice their religious beliefs within the city.
As the Nephite soldiers pressed them forward, dizziness engulfed Abinadi. If only he could drink some water and rest for a moment. He reached for the person who stood closest to him. Then everything went black.
* * *
The first hint of morning light splashed through the narrow window of Raquel’s room. She opened her eyes, startled that she’d slept at all. For several moments, she lay still, listening to the sounds of the house and surrounding courtyard. Everything was quiet—almost too quiet. Her father hadn’t come home the night before, undoubtedly leading the campaign against the Lamanites.
Raquel let out a soft moan and turned onto her side. What had happened to Seth? Was he all right? Sorrow twisted her stomach for her cousin, her best friend. And what about Abinadi—the quiet man who intrigued her for reasons she couldn’t explain? Had her warning come in time? Had her father assembled the soldiers quickly enough? Raquel let out a sigh of frustration and wondered how many Lamanites had breached the border.
Her father could be in just as much danger as any of the others. Then another image crossed her mind—that of King Noah’s very inquisitive eyes studying her. Suddenly uncomfortable, she rose from her pole-frame bed and slipped on her sandals, then pulled a cotton cape over her shoulders. She doubted her mother was still sleeping—not with the tension of the unknown hanging in the air.
Raquel crept through the narrow halls, not wanting to disturb any of the servants. She hoped for an audience alone with her mother. Raquel stopped at her parents’ room and hesitated in the entryway. Her mother was alone, sitting on the raised bed. She was hunched over and rocking slightly, murmuring something. Raquel froze, wondering if she should back out of the room and return later. If she didn’t know better, she’d think her mother was praying like that little boy, Ben. But that was impossible. Her father was a priest of King Noah’s court, and personal prayers were strictly prohibited. The community worshipped together, not individually.
Raquel took a shuffling step backward as her mother suddenly straightened and turned her head. Surprise flickered across her mother’s face for an instant, then was gone.
“Come here,” her mother said.
Raquel entered the room, trying to avoid her mother’s all-knowing eyes. Itzel was a small woman, but very skilled in running an elaborate household. The only thing that Raquel wished her mother would do more was stand up to her husband. Itzel never questioned him and was always quick to obey—which just proved that she couldn’t possibly have been praying.
Raquel held her breath, waiting for the chastisement.
Instead, her mother took her hand. “Where were you last night?”
She finally looked at her mother. Had she not heard the servants’ gossip yet? But her mother’s expression was sincere.
“I had to warn the king. I know that it was an inconvenient time, and that Father was upset I . . . interrupted the wedding celebration.” She glanced away, feeling disgust as she thought about the women who had surrounded her father.
“I’m not concerned about your visit to court. I want to know where you were before that.”
Raquel lowered her head. “I was going to meet Seth.”
“By yourself? At night?” her mother asked in a shocked voice. She stood and crossed the room. From a corner she picked up the boy’s tunic that Raquel had worn the night before. “Anything could have happened to you.”
Raquel nodded numbly.
Itzel waved the rough-woven fabric. “You not only put yourself in danger, but you brought out questions of your moral character.” Her eyes darkened. “Your father and I are working on a marriage match for you. If there is any question about your virtue, your chances could be lost.”
A hot tear splashed onto Raquel’s cheek. It had all seemed like a daring game before, but now she realized it was much, much more.
“As a high priest in King Noah’s court, your father is sworn to uphold the laws of the king even when they apply to his own family.” Itzel hesitated, her expression softening. “Especially when they apply to his own family. You don’t want to be punished as an example.”
Raquel sniffled in the quiet moment. Her mother’s hand touched her shoulder, and Raquel wished she could lean against her mother’s softness for comfort like she had as a little girl. “I hope Seth and the others are all right . . . I wish I could have—”
“There’s nothing you could have done. You’re not responsible for what the Lamanites do or for Seth’s actions.” Itzel pulled away and tilted Raquel’s face toward her. “None of this is your fault.”
A man’s shout came from outside.
“Your father!” Itzel said and fled the room. Raquel hurried after, following her mother into the courtyard.
Raquel’s father had just entered the gate, and now he called out to his wife. “Itzel!”
Her mother crossed the courtyard. “Amulon?”
Raquel’s eyes widened at the thought of her mother flinging herself into her husband’s arms, but Itzel stopped short of such a display. “Come in and eat.”
Amulon followed his wife inside their home, barely acknowledging Raquel with a brief glance. She knew better than to ask him any questions when he had an empty stomach. She decided to wait in her room until she was summoned. But as she turned to go, her father said, “Stay here, Raquel.”
Slowly, she turned around and faced him, but he wasn’t looking at her. He continued to eat as if there were nothing else to attend to that day. Raquel looked at her mother, but she discreetly kept her expression blank.
Finally, her father finished his meal of tamalitos, beans, and roasted squash, and after a long drink of agave wine, he raised his eyes to Raquel. “Seth is safe. So are the other shepherds.”
Relief burned hot in her chest. “And the elders?”
Amulon stood and stifled a yawn. “All safe. We delivered them to the king, along with a half dozen Lamanites.”
Questions tumbled through her mind, yet she knew she’d been lucky to get that one answered.
Amulon looked from Itzel to Raquel. “That was over two hours ago. On the way back, I stopped at Eli’s home. He has made his intentions clear.”
Clear? About what? Raquel’s mind raced. What could be relevant about Eli? He was nearly forty and a widower. His first wife had died a barren woman. He was a scribe for Noah, and Raquel had seen him several times on his way to court. The man was always bent over a scroll of bark, muttering to himself. He’d let his beard grow wild, and his appearance was in need of a woman’s attention. She snapped her head up.
Her mother wore a serene smile, although it didn’t seem to reach her eyes. “At last. It is settled.” She crossed to Raquel, her hand outstretched, but Raquel backed up.
“What’s settled?” She looked from her mother to her father. She knew she had to be punished for her escapade, but what did her father mean about Eli?
“Tonight, Eli will come for supper. He will officially extend his offer of marriage to you,” Amulon said, his gaze piercing Raquel. “I suggest you ready yourself to make the best impression.”
“But he is so old,” Raquel protested. “And—”
“And he is wise, knowledgeable, has a very nice income from the king, knows how to care for a woman . . . all things that will give you the security and—” Amulon cut himself off, looking at his wife. “And the supervision that you need.”
“I thought I’d be betrothed to someone I liked . . . or at least to someone who was close to my age.” Raquel bit her lip hard, trying to keep the tears at bay. She thought she saw her mother’s chin quiver.
Her father laughed. “He likes you, very much, and that will be enough for now.” Amulon took a step forward, towering over his daughter. “Last night I realized I’ve let you play a little girl far too long. It’s time you become a woman, grow up, and take responsibility—do what you were made to do.”
“What’s that?” Raquel whispered.
“Bear sons,” her father stated. “Care for a man and keep his house.”
Raquel shook her head, a pit of desperation forming in her stomach. “But I’m not ready.”
Her mother placed a hand on her arm. “The betrothal will be the customary year. You’ll be eighteen, nearly nineteen, by the time you marry—plenty in age.”
“No,” Amulon interrupted. His wife and daughter stared at him. “She’ll marry before the second moon. Since last night, I’ve felt a sense of urgency in this matter that I’ve not had before.”
Her mother’s hand slipped from her arm, and Raquel’s tears couldn’t be held back any longer. Her vision blurred as she turned and hurried out of the room. It was no use appealing to her mother. The woman didn’t have a chance when her father had made up his mind. And her father’s tone told her that he already had.
She ran through the hall and flung herself on her mat. She was sure a deluge of sobs would rack her body instantly, but it was as if she couldn’t believe what had just taken place—her mind wouldn’t let it become reality. The sobs were mysteriously absent. Then something amazing happened.
Her mother started arguing with her father.
Raquel sat up, listening.
“It will take many months just to sew the bridal wear,” Itzel said.
Amulon’s voice was defensive. “You can alter what cousin Carina wore.”
“My daughter will have her own things. Her father is a high priest in the king’s court . . . It would be disgraceful for her to wear second-hand clothing!” Her voice rose in pitch. “And our family members must be notified. We’ll have to prepare our home for many guests. It will take many days just to contact them all . . . two or three moons before they can assemble. They’ll find it impossible to travel until after the harvest.”
“You don’t understand, Itzel,” Amulon said, his voice at full volume now. “You should have seen the way he looked at her—as if she were a prize quetzal that could be bought with a few pieces of jade.”
Her mother gasped. “The king?”
Raquel brought a hand to her mouth.
“Yes. It was as if a torch had been lit. I saw the . . . desire in his eyes,” Amulon said, his voice harsh.
Raquel held her breath as her heart pounded furiously. There was silence between her parents for several seconds. Then her mother spoke. “Tell me everything.”
Dead quiet stretched into a full minute.
Raquel couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Was it possible that the king was interested in her? King Noah? He was old, close to her father’s age, although still younger than Eli. Why would a king, who could have any woman, wife, or concubine he wanted, want her? She had been dressed as a shepherd, but still he was interested? Her body felt cold all over. He had just married. He had just met her . . . on his wedding night.
She didn’t believe it. The king’s oldest son, Limhi, was about her age. Maybe the king had been thinking of her as a match for his son instead. Her father must be mistaken. But his next words stopped her.
“He was amused at first,” Amulon said, his tone reticent now. “A girl and a young boy interrupting the festivities with such ‘important’ news. It was as if he looked to them for further entertainment. Perhaps he thought to humiliate them and throw them into prison—just for enjoyment.”
Raquel left her room and carefully moved closer, down the hallway. She didn’t want to miss one word.
“But she was wearing a shepherd’s robe,” her mother said.
“That’s what makes it so ironic and so extraordinary. When I first saw her, I was reminded of you . . . when we first met.” Her father’s voice had softened.
Raquel’s face heated. She’d never heard her father speak this way before. She felt like an intruder on their quiet moment.
“She captured everyone’s attention just by her presence,” Amulon continued. “Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how beautiful my daughter was and how other men might regard her.”
“What did the king say?”
“He commented on her beauty and . . . he said I had neglected to tell him how fair my daughter was.”
“Oh no,” her mother whispered.
“Then he became angry at something she said.”
“What?” Itzel asked, sounding horrified.
“She said the other missing men were elders of Zeniff’s court.” Amulon took a deep breath. “He yelled a bit but calmed quickly. It was as if he actually enjoyed her outspokenness.”
“She challenged him, and he let her leave?” Her mother’s voice trembled.
“He ordered more soldiers to be sent for the rescue,” Amulon said.
A moment of silence passed, and Raquel could hardly stand it. Her father either knew a lot more about the ways of men than she, or he was absolutely wrong. She’d seen none of this in the brief encounter.
“Pray that Eli is not too late,” her mother said.
He’s coming tonight. How can that be too late? Raquel wondered. She hurried to her room, trying to understand all that her parents said. Lying on her platform bed, she stared at the reed roof above. Eli or King Noah? The king was . . . overwhelming. She’d just be another girl in his harem. What about his new wife? Surely he was enraptured by her and wouldn’t think twice about Raquel’s visit. The king couldn’t possibly think she was beautiful like all of those elegant women at court. Her mother had told her many times that she was too outspoken—too much like her father. Raquel was far from demure—a definite requirement in order to please the king day in and day out.
A pebble landed on her mat, causing Raquel to jump. She crossed to the high window and peered out. The leaves of a cashew tree blocked her view, so she threw the pebble out the window and waited. A moment later, it came sailing back in.
“Who’s there?” she hissed, trying to see past the greenery.
A shuffling sound, then a young boy appeared.
“Ben!”
He bobbed his head and smiled at her. But Raquel detected the sadness beneath the smile. She remembered the plight of the elders, including Abinadi, and was seized with worry. What had Noah done with them?
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he whispered. “I wanted to thank you.”
“You’re more than welcome,” she said. He looked at her with such sincerity that she wondered if her heart could melt. His brown eyes were so sweet, so innocent. “How are your friends?”
His expression lightened for a moment. “The king let them go.” Then he looked down, shuffling his feet.
“That’s wonderful,” Raquel said. “I told you that you could trust me.” She said it in jest, but she realized by the sorrow that filled his eyes that it was the wrong thing to say.
“I do trust you, but . . .” Ben looked from side to side, then moved closer to the window. “Abinadi is injured.”
Raquel’s pulse quickened. “What happened?”
Ben lifted a shoulder. “He has bruises and welts all over his body and face. His mother says he’ll mend in a few days, though she’s having trouble keeping him resting.”
Raquel wanted to smile. The news of his survival was sweet to her ears. But she couldn’t let Ben know it.
His mouth tugged into a pout. “The others have left me behind.”
“What do you mean?”
“Gideon was ordered out of the land by King Noah, and the other elders took their families and left with him. I tried to go, but the Teacher was insistent that I stay in the city. He said that I could do much good among the wicked, but I can’t tell anyone about God.” He wrinkled his nose. “I just have to be a good example.”
Raquel stifled a laugh, even though the boy’s words touched her. He was so serious about it. “What are you? Eight or nine? Of course you have to stay with your family.”
“I don’t have a family.”
Before Raquel could respond, he added, “Abinadi invited me to stay with his mother. But he’ll be leaving to help build up Gideon’s settlement as soon as his mother lets him out of bed. So I’ll be alone again—except for his mother, I suppose.” He rubbed his face as if he were seriously considering it.
“Of course you should stay with his mother. Perhaps . . . Abinadi . . . will return soon.”
“I don’t know about that,” Ben said. “But maybe if I stay with his mother, they’ll know where to find me.”
“Definitely,” Raquel said, then added one more thing. “And I’ll know where to find you too.”
The boy’s face brightened. “Will you come and see me?”
“When I can,” Raquel said softly. “I’m in a bit of trouble right now, but the next chance I have to pass by, I will. Tell me, where is Abinadi’s home?” She hoped Ben hadn’t noticed the excited tremor of her voice.
“The last house at the crook of the river before the maize fields,” Ben said.
Raquel thanked him, and after he hurried away, she settled onto her mat. At least the elders had left the city and were no longer in danger from King Noah. At least Abinadi wasn’t seriously injured. He’d be joining the elders soon—safe from the king. She stared up at the ceiling again.
The next time she saw Abinadi, if ever, she’d probably be a married woman.
