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Cover art by Chad Winks.
Chapter Twelve
The Lord . . . heareth the prayer of the righteous.
(Proverb 15:29)
The two men traveled hard and fast. Once they came within view of the city of Nephi, Abinadi said, “I hope you have a plan.”
“I do,” Gideon said, smiling. “You know me.”
“Yes,” Abinadi said. “That I do. So I assume we aren’t going to present ourselves to the court and dazzle the king with our intellect.”
“No. Follow me.” Gideon pointed to the north, along the edge of the fields. On the northern end of the city, the king’s agave winepresses worked day and night above the rows and rows of waist-high plants. The laborers toiled without much reprieve this time of year. As Gideon and Abinadi drew near, the sweet, intoxicating scent wafted toward them.
Abinadi inhaled deeply and sighed. The perfume of the agave nectar was heavenly as usual.
“The men at the presses know who I am, so you’ll have to go in as a wine merchant.” Gideon lowered the pack off of his back and withdrew several onties of silver from it. He handed them to Abinadi. “Tell them you want the pure wine—undiluted. Tell them you’re on errand from one of the king’s priests or concubines.”
Abinadi frowned as he took the silver. He’d never held this amount of treasure at once. “It costs this much?”
“No,” Gideon said. “But any questions will be stopped by generosity. Then meet me on the hill of the last sheep field.” He reached for the bundle on Abinadi’s back. “Let me take your things so the taskmaster won’t suspect you’ve traveled far.”
Abinadi relinquished his pack and was about to ask why they needed the very expensive wine, but when he turned, Gideon had already disappeared into the trees beyond. He walked to the first press. Men worked over hot fires, heating the agave juice. Several boys carrying jugs ran back and forth between the presses and a hut. Another group of people worked among the plants, scooping out the juice from the hollow of the piñas.
As Abinadi approached, he looked for the taskmaster. One of the workers looked up and immediately crossed to him. The man’s body was covered in perspiration. “What do you want?”
“I need to speak with your master,” Abinadi said.
“I am Caton, the taskmaster,” the man said, his eyes narrowing. “Who are you?”
“Servant to the king. I’ve come to purchase a jug of undiluted wine on behalf of his favorite concubine.”
The taskmaster’s face pulled into a frown. “It will delay production and take us too much time to make up for it.”
Abinadi held out an onti of silver.
Caton’s face brightened considerably. “Ahh. It will be just a moment.” He turned and hurried inside the hut.
The errand boys stood in their places, watching Abinadi with curiosity. Much to his relief, he didn’t recognize any of them.
The taskmaster returned, and the exchange was made. Abinadi lifted the skin covering and smelled the opening of the jug. Sure enough, the strong odor of agave pulque reached his nose.
“It’s the very best,” Caton said with a grin. Then his gaze turned curious. “What did you say your name was?”
“I’d rather keep the gift confidential for now.”
“Yes, but—”
“Thank you. I’ll send your good wishes to the court.” Abinadi turned away. He couldn’t go in the direction that Gideon had, so he headed east, toward the city. As soon as he was out of sight of the wine presses, he turned north again, heading for the fields. When he spotted the first flock of sheep, he was surprised to see a half dozen shepherds with them. Usually just one or two could handle a flock in the daytime. He skirted the field, keeping in the shadows of the surrounding trees. It didn’t take him long to clear the fields. Once he reached the meeting place, Abinadi concealed himself in the forest.
As the sun made its western journey, he waited for Gideon. The hours dragged until evening arrived, and only then did Abinadi start to worry. Gideon hadn’t shared his plan, and Abinadi didn’t understand what was taking the man so long.
Then he saw something that chilled him despite the warm night. A militia of soldiers exited the city in rows of tens. Abinadi scanned the soldiers, estimating at least two hundred men. They crossed the fields below him and moved into the forest. Fear entered his heart as he thought about Raquel. Maybe Izehar had made it back to the city and Noah was sending out his forces.
After a moment of reasoning, Abinadi decided that even Noah wasn’t foolish enough to marshal his army just to capture a lone woman. Abinadi moved deeper in the trees until he could barely glimpse the moon-splashed fields.
Suddenly, something grabbed his arm. He whirled and came face-to-face with Gideon—and the man’s huge smile.
“Didn’t hear me coming, did you?”
Abinadi had been so focused on the militia’s movement that he’d forgotten to watch his own back. He answered as nonchalantly as possible. “Where have you been?”
Gideon cocked his head, the grin still on his face. “The Lord has answered our prayers.”
“What do you mean?”
Gideon pointed to the forests beyond. “With full force, Noah is attacking the Lamanites scouting the borders. The court is in an uproar. Soldiers running everywhere, Noah shouting commands . . . No one will notice two drunk men stumbling down the prison steps.”
“This wine is for us?” Abinadi asked. “I don’t think—”
Gideon laughed. “I hope you’re a good pretender. We’ll act like we’re drunk and generously share with the prison guards. Tonight we’ll be their best friends.” He rustled something out of his pack. “But first, put this on.”
Abinadi stared at the fine capes Gideon produced. The rich luster of the colored feathers shimmered in the moonlight. “They’ll think we’re noblemen.” Gideon pulled out two turbans and handed one to Abinadi.
Once both men were newly attired, they moved quickly to the city where the soldiers had recently exited.
The city was eerily quiet. Although oil lamps burned in most homes, the sloped streets were all but empty. Regardless, Gideon insisted that they walk slowly, stagger, and sing loudly. If anyone was questioned later, they’d be identified as two drunk men.
As they moved past the palace, Abinadi kept an eye on the lazing guards. For a night of military adventure, the guards didn’t seem caught up in the excitement. At the sound of Gideon’s singing, one started laughing.
They cleared the palace and continued around the sturdy walls until they reached the back hillside where a cave had been made into a prison.
A guard rose immediately as they came into view.
“Greetings!” Gideon shouted. “We are celebrating our victory over the Lamanites.”
The guard frowned. “But the soldiers just left. Is there a victory already?”
“We’ll have victory in no time . . . so why not celebrate now?”
Abinadi staggered toward the guard, extending his hand and the expensive wine. “This was a gift from the king. Smell it—usually reserved only for royalty.”
The guard leaned forward and smelled it. “Hmmm. I see what you mean.”
“The taste is even better,” Abinadi said, pretending to take a swig. He wiped off droplets from his face, then held out the jug again.
The guard looked around furtively, as if expecting the king himself to appear at any moment. “I guess I’ll have just a taste.”
Less than half an hour later, jug nearly empty, the guard sat at his post, his head lolling as his snores filled the night.
“Let’s go,” Gideon whispered. They left the jug of wine at the guard’s feet and descended the steps into the prison cave. Beyond the glow of torchlight was only steep darkness. Gideon took the torch in hand and led the way.
The prison walls were damp, dripping with putrid water and slimy mold. Abinadi involuntarily shivered, grateful for his cape. The odor was a mixture of rotted food and human waste. He glanced at Gideon, who was covering his mouth and nose with the edge of his turban. Abinadi followed suit.
They came to the first cell, and through the wooden slats the trembling glow of their torch illuminated a huddled man. As the light reached the prisoner’s face, he rose in a flash and dove toward them. He thudded against the slats, only to be restrained by his bindings. Abinadi jumped backward as the man screamed, “I’ll kill you!”
Gideon grabbed Abinadi and tugged him along. They passed two more cells, both containing delusional men begging for release—promising their daughters, wives, or homes in return.
Abinadi’s chest clenched in both horror and sadness. He had no idea what these men’s crimes were, but their wretched conditions were sickening to witness. No one deserved such treatment. They arrived at the last cell. It appeared empty, then through the thinning dark, a shape moved.
“Ben?” Abinadi called out in a soft voice.
The boy’s head snapped up and turned.
If Abinadi hadn’t known it to be Ben, he would have hardly recognized the boy. He was covered in dirt and filth from head to toe, and his body seemed terribly frail and thin. Where were the bright eyes and contagious smile?
“We’re going to get you out,” Gideon whispered. “But we don’t have much time.”
Achingly slow, Ben stood. His hands were tied behind his back. He walked toward them. Abinadi reached through the slats and grasped the boy’s shoulder. “We’re here to take you home.”
Ben’s large eyes blinked in response, but otherwise he didn’t respond.
Gideon and Abinadi lifted the heavy wooden bar that fastened the door.
Ben practically fell forward into Abinadi’s arms. His tunic was ripped and stained with blood and dirt. Abinadi grimaced. “We must get him something to eat and drink,” he said, casting a furtive glance back into the cell. It didn’t appear that there was any food inside. He used his dagger to cut the bindings from Ben’s wrists.
“Let’s go!” Gideon hissed. Abinadi gathered Ben in his arms and with Gideon ran back through the corridor, ignoring the calls of the still-imprisoned men.
Carrying Ben was effortless, but Abinadi still wished he could do something for those they left behind. They scurried up the stairs, away from the stench, away from the awfulness . . .
“Stop right there!”
Abinadi nearly collided with Gideon. At the entrance of the prison stood three men, torches held high. The one who had spoken wore an ugly scowl. Beyond the three men, the guard was still snoring at his post. One of the others held the jug of wine in his meaty grip.
Abinadi tightened his hold on Ben as the boy twisted to see what had stopped them. He squirmed, and Abinadi let him to the ground, still keeping a fierce hold on him.
“Identify yourselves,” the leader ordered.
Gideon withdrew his dagger with barely a nod to Abinadi. The message had been passed. Almost instantaneously the two of them leapt forward and attacked. With one arm wielding his dagger, Abinadi rushed the leader, gaining an advantage for several seconds. He knocked the torch out of the man’s hand, then brought the edge of his dagger to the man’s throat.
“Get behind me and hang on,” Abinadi told Ben. The boy did as he was told. Abinadi gripped the dagger with both hands, pressing forward slightly.
The leader spread his arms as if in self-defeat, but his eyes were not reconciled. Gideon was circling with the others. Abinadi kept his gaze level and dagger poised at the man he had cornered.
“Watch out!” Gideon shouted just as powerful arms wrapped around Abinadi’s torso.
Abinadi threw his head back and found his target as he connected with the other man’s nose. A blood-curdling scream filled the air as the man fell to the ground, clutching his face, but Abinadi didn’t lose his focus on the leader. Ben scurried away as Gideon continued to struggle with the other man.
“Ben!” Abinadi yelled. He couldn’t lose the boy twice. A loud crash sounded. Abinadi stared as the leader sank to the ground. Ben had smashed the abandoned jug of wine over the leader’s head.
Abinadi turned to help Gideon, and within seconds they had the third man subdued. He turned to Ben. “Can you run?” he asked. Ben nodded.
After quickly stripping the men’s swords and daggers, they hurried from the prison. Instead of taking the main road, they angled through the fields. If anyone had been searching for them, they would have been easy targets to spot. The moon hung bright and full, clearly showing the two men and the boy darting along the landscape. Once they reached the cover of trees, Gideon came to a full stop. He knelt next to Ben and examined him, wincing when he saw the welts on his back. “Are you all right, son?” Gideon asked.
Ben nodded, his chest heaving.
“Once we find the bundles we hid in the forest, we can clean you up and get you something to eat,” Abinadi said, touching the boy’s shoulder.
Ben nodded again.
“It’s not much farther,” Gideon said. “We’ll have you away from here in no time.”
“What about Raquel?” Ben asked, his breath still coming short.
Abinadi smiled. “She’s waiting for you.”
The boy smiled for the first time since the rescue. The three moved quickly through the trees, stopping every so often to listen for any pursuers or cry of alarm from the city. Finally they reached their hiding place. Ben gobbled the dried fish and peanuts that Abinadi found in his pack. Then he guzzled most of the water from the sheepskin. The rest he used to wash the dirt from his face.
“Easy,” Gideon cautioned. “You don’t want to overdo it.”
The boy handed the sheepskin back to Abinadi, who sighed. “There are going to be a lot of people glad to see you. But first, we have one more stop.”
They headed south, toward the river and Abinadi’s home, Ben walking in front of Abinadi. On the way, Ben explained how the soldiers had come looking for Raquel. Esther hadn’t been home yet, and Ben couldn’t hold off their questions. When the soldiers saw the quetzal feathers Raquel had left, they knew.
“When was this?” Abinadi asked.
“The day after you left. The soldiers came after supper.”
“So it was nearly dark,” Abinadi said. “And my mother wasn’t home?”
Ben shook his head. “She had gone to the market but hadn’t returned.”
Worry built inside Abinadi. His mother was always home before the sun set. He hoped she was just delayed. A new fear consumed him. Most people in the city knew she was his mother . . . What if . . .
“Let’s hurry,” he said to Gideon. Immediately they increased their pace. The wind had picked up since Ben’s rescue, and they pushed against it now. Abinadi smelled the coming moisture, signaling the impending rain. They walked near the trees, keeping cover when they could. By the time they reached Abinadi’s small homestead, the rain had turned to a ferocious downpour.
Abinadi took the lead, telling Ben to remain outside the courtyard. He and Gideon approached the dark hut. It felt empty. Although it was possible his mother had gone to sleep already, he doubted it.
His dagger was drawn before he reached the doorway. Slowly he lifted the skin, Gideon right beside him. “Mother?” he called. “Esther?”
The men moved quickly through the two rooms. It didn’t appear as if anything had been disturbed. Abinadi’s mat had been neatly rolled as if Esther were waiting for Ben to return.
Something smelled unpleasant, so Abinadi surveyed the cooking corner. He found a jug of sour milk, nearly curdled. His skin bristled with fear. His mother would never waste a thing—especially food or drink.
“She hasn’t returned since she left Ben,” Abinadi said in a quiet voice as Gideon joined his side. “This milk is at least two days old.”
“Where would she go?”
Abinadi shrugged. They had no close relatives in the city and few whom they could call friends.
The two men stepped into the rain. Abinadi stared hopelessly into the dripping trees surrounding the home. His stomach twisted at the thought of his mother alone somewhere, possibly hurt or ill . . . or worse. He turned to Gideon. “Take the boy to the others. I’ll wait here overnight and see if she returns.”
Gideon placed a hand on Abinadi’s shoulder. “You say she hasn’t been here for at least two days. What makes you think she’ll return tonight?”
Abinadi tried to swallow against the lump in his throat. “I don’t know . . . I just can’t leave. Not yet.”
“We can stay with you,” Gideon said, his grip tightening on Abinadi’s shoulder, offering support. “If Noah’s men return, it’s better there are two of us.”
“Yes,” Abinadi said. “But there are three of us—and it’s the third one I worry about most. He needs to get away from here as soon as possible. He’s far from safe here.”
“You’re not safe either,” Gideon said.
But Abinadi had turned away. He walked toward the trees. “Mother?” He saw nothing and heard nothing. Where was she? Had she returned to find Ben missing and gone in search of him? After a few minutes of hearing only rain pelting the trees, Gideon stepped up beside him.
“We’ll stay with you and help you search in the morning.”
Abinadi shook his head. “No. You must get Ben out of here now.”
Gideon grimaced but finally nodded. “We’ll leave then.”
“Be careful,” Abinadi said. “And . . . give Raquel my best.”
“Certainly,” Gideon said. “I left your pack inside the doorway—with the extra cape and turban.” He turned and joined Ben.
Abinadi watched the two leave the clearing. The rain still came, the house was still empty, and his mother was still gone, but the thought of Raquel warmed him from somewhere deep inside. Slowly he walked back to his home to wait out the rain. He lowered the skin against the moisture and decided not to take the risk of lighting a lamp. So, in the damp darkness, he knelt by his former sleeping corner. Then he did the only thing that was left to do. Pray.
* * *
The rain continued on and off all night. Raquel knew because she couldn’t sleep. She’d expected the men to return at least by midnight. But when the hour was long past, she gave up on trying to rest. She couldn’t leave her tent because of the rain, so she didn’t know if the other men were as anxious as she. Anything could have gone wrong with Ben or with either of the men. She felt so helpless. She couldn’t make a poultice or cook a meal or do anything to fix the problem, and she also couldn’t leave; the very least she could do was keep her promise to Abinadi and remain where she was.
She stooped in the low tent and paced as much as she was able, irritated at the weather. It would make travel more difficult. Growing chilled, she sat again and pulled the rug about her shoulders, thinking about Abinadi. Though she doubted he’d ever see her as more than a runaway girl, she saw him as more of a man than King Noah, Eli, and even her father. She closed her eyes, picturing Abinadi’s deep-set eyes, his amber complexion, heavy brows . . .
Pray for me, his eyes had seemed to say. But she didn’t even know how to pray. Watching Ben in the fields had been her first witness of a “believer’s” prayer.
She continued to pace in the small tent, growing hot, then cold. The rain finally petered off, and Raquel threw open the tent flap to let in the night air. A glow of a lamp came from Ezra’s tent. Apparently he couldn’t sleep either. For a moment, she considered speaking with him. Maybe he could explain the method of praying to her. No, she decided. He’ll think me foolish.
A tear slid down her cheek as helplessness consumed her. Was this how the Lord felt when he looked down upon the cities full of people and saw their stubbornness? Yes, she’d been stubborn—and now she was too stubborn to even ask for help with how to pray.
The sound of snapping branches reached her ears. Someone was coming through the trees. Raquel drew back inside her tent and lowered the flap. She hoped it was Abinadi, but at the same time fear spread throughout her body. What if Noah’s men had finally caught up to them?
“Gideon!” someone said.
Raquel flew out of the tent and came to a stumbling stop. There were only two figures—one was Ben, the other Gideon. She ran to the young boy. “Ben!” He threw his arms around her waist and she laughed, embracing him. “You’re safe!”
He turned his face upward and smiled. “You’re safe, too.”
“You are an excellent map maker . . .” Her voice faded as she looked around, her gaze stopping at Gideon. “Where’s Abinadi?”
Ben released her legs. “He went to find his mother.”
Gideon’s expression was sober. Something isn’t right, Raquel thought. “What happened?”
“Esther never came home,” Gideon said in a quiet voice.
Ben leaned against Raquel again, and she put an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close. “You mean from the time I saw Ben until now?”
Gideon nodded. The other elders murmured among themselves.
“But it’s not safe for Abinadi to . . .” Raquel fell silent as Gideon shook his head. She shouldn’t upset Ben, so she ruffled the boy’s hair and said, “Come with me and tell me all about your rescue.” She tried to keep her voice light, but her heart felt heavy.
Abinadi hadn’t returned. His mother hadn’t come home. Ben was safe, but Raquel couldn’t rid her mind of worry.
Inside her tent, she made a comfortable spot for Ben. When she wrapped an extra rug around his thin body, he shied away.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
His expression clouded.
Raquel felt a jolt in her heart. “Are you hurt?”
When Ben didn’t answer, Raquel knew that he was. “Let me see,” she said in a quiet voice.
He turned his back to her and pulled his tunic down over his shoulder.
Raquel stared, hardly believing what she saw. Ugly, red welts stood out on his shoulder. She lifted the cloth and saw that they ran down his back. “They whipped you?”
He nodded.
Raquel blinked back her tears and reached for her pouch of herbs. “How could they be so cruel?”
Ben turned to look at her, his expression placid. “The king was angry that I wouldn’t tell him where you went.”
Raquel froze. Her chest felt as if it would burst with sorrow. “You were whipped because of me?”
He shook his head. “The king still would have whipped me even if I had told.”
“Oh, Ben.” Raquel leaned over and stroked his cheek with a trembling hand. “I should have never run away. None of this would have happened.”
Ben smiled his brilliant smile. “We’re safe now. You should have seen Abinadi and Gideon fighting the king’s guards.”
She smiled back, but her heart ached even more. While she prepared a paste made from willow bark, Ben told her about Abinadi and Gideon showing up at the prison, then how they fought off some of Noah’s soldiers. They had traveled to Abinadi’s home to retrieve Esther, but there was no sign of her.
“Does she have relatives in the city? A sister or a cousin perhaps?” she asked as she applied the paste.
Ben lifted his shoulders, wincing. “I don’t know. Abinadi was searching the forest around their home.”
Raquel’s stomach dropped.
Ben stifled a yawn. “You should sleep now,” Raquel said, finishing the application of willow bark. “You’ve traveled all night.”
“First I have to thank the Lord,” he said. He knelt on his mat and bowed his head.
She felt compelled to follow suit, if only not to stare at him. She listened carefully to every word. The words seemed so simple, yet so foreign at the same time. Ben thanked the Lord for his safe rescue and pleaded for the Lord to preserve Abinadi and his mother. When Ben concluded, Raquel wanted to say Amen too, but she didn’t dare.
He climbed beneath his covers. Raquel lay in the darkness, listening as his breathing relaxed and became steady in sleep.
Praying seemed natural for Ben. But even as she thought about the simple words he’d said, she didn’t know if she could follow suit. It was one thing to refuse marriage to King Noah, but another to participate in something that had been forbidden in her household. Raquel stifled a chuckle. She’d probably already chosen the more rebellious of the two. Praying couldn’t possibly get her into more trouble now.
The rain started again as Ben’s breathing turned into light snoring. Dawn was only a couple hours away, but still Raquel couldn’t sleep. Somewhere out there, Abinadi was searching for his mother . . . and somewhere out there, men were searching for her. A fine pair they made.
