Chapter 10: The Servant of a King

Abish stared idly out the queen’s window. Her majesty’s time was close, and in her fear she desired Abish to never be far from her. She was doing fine, but the birth of a prince or princess was a very important thing and Abish was not cavalier about her lack of experience. Almost daily they were making sure the baby’s head was down and tracking its movements to make sure that it was still alive and not agitated. Her body showed signs of being ready, but Abish believed it would still be several days. The queen emerged from her bath and handed Abish the brush. Abish worked slowly and methodically. The queen was unusually silent during this morning routine. After several minutes she finally said, “I am sure that you have been most bored these days, Abish.”

Abish smiled slightly, “Your bidding has been to stay near you. If your ladyship has been bored, then I suppose I have been too.”

The queen likewise smiled, “You should have been a diplomat, dear; you have such a way of putting things." Abish continued brushing, and after a moment the queen followed up. “But you are right. I’m excessively bored. There is little that I can do these days save sit around and grow fat.”

“You look lovely.” Abish smiled at the queen’s wry face in the mirror as she twisted the back of her hair and pulled it up. Abish had never seen the queen wear her hair up until just a few weeks ago. The weather had been beastly hot again and the pregnancy made the queen uncomfortable. The reddish masses were not as striking when they were up, but the queen was indeed lovely. Pregnancy had given her a glow that even Lamoni seemed to notice. In her experience, men became less attentive and even absent as their wives’ bellies grew, but the king had been just the opposite. He constantly deferred to her and never failed to put out a hand to help his wife. Abish had always believed Lamoni to be more impressive than the king she was raised under, but as she watched the treatment of the queen these many months, she liked him more than ever.

“Well, both of us don’t have to be bored. I’m feeling well today. Why don’t you go down to my husband’s court this morning and watch for anything interesting? After lunch we can stroll through the back of the palace and you can tell me all the gossip.”

Abish smiled, knowing her appearance in Lamoni’s throne room that morning would only cause him to wonder if the queen was delivering, but also knowing that the queen would trust no one else to report the affairs of the kingdom honestly. She bowed slightly, “As your majesty wishes.”

She made her way down to the king’s council chamber, concentrating carefully so that no wrong turns were made. She had not been to this part of the palace in many, many months and the corridors could be very confusing. In her concentration, she nearly ran into Lemhah as she rounded a corner with her head down. She flushed darkly, bowing her head and apologizing.

“That is all right, Abish. Is it her time, yet?”

Keeping her eyes averted, she shook her head. At some level she knew that she was a valued part of this household, but the she was constantly aware of her designation as a slave. “No sir, the queen only desired that I listen in the king’s chamber this day to bring her news of the court.”

“Very well, then. I will precede you to the counsel chamber and inform the King of your intentions to observe his court this day.”

She fell behind him, walking slowly so that he would have time to deliver his message. In just moments she entered the noisy room. Courtiers loitered, discussing business of the day. There were very few women, and all of them slaves. They were court slaves, and she knew none of them directly. They wore sheer gowns, in contrast to the tunics of animal skins that many of the men wore. These men were not warriors, but wearing the skin of a leopard or a puma gave a man great standing among his companions. It was likely their slaves or servants had killed these animals as well as prepared the clothing, but such a thing was never discussed. The women walked among the noisy men like ghosts, although stray eyes and even hands often wandered to the diaphanous fabric and the bodies underneath. Abish knew the queen was vehemently opposed to these women and their presence in the king’s court, but while the queen would vent her criticism and even venture to disclose that she had spoken to her husband about it, she never went so far as to tell Abish what his response had been.

Abish listened with one ear to the commonplace comings and goings within Lamoni’s sphere of influence, but her thoughts were far away. She knew she should pay attention or miss hearing something that might interest the queen, but while she might report faithfully what she hear, it held little real interest for her. Her mind strayed, as it often did in recent weeks, to what might happen to her after the baby came. Her chance encounter with Lemhah had reminded her again that she was still a slave to this family, though her duties were light and her status was valuable. Their might be a chance to marry. She was not beautiful, but she wasn’t ugly. The queen had a large sheet of brass that had been hammered and polished until it shone brightly. If the light was good, a person could actually see their reflection in it. The queen had once offered to allow Abish to look into this great treasure. She was surprised that beyond the plainness there was something else, a fire and light in her eyes that made her appearance unique, maybe even striking. Her face reminded her of Armac’s, though her own was softer, more feminine. She would never have the delicate body or fine features of a Lamanite noblewoman, but she had something. In a rare personal comment the queen had even told her as much. Though she pretended to be oblivious as she did her work, there were sometimes stray glances her way. Yes, there might be a chance to marry.

As she thought about marriage to any of these men, she fought the urge to shudder. For all her confidence, she knew she was slightly afraid of men generally. The only thing that saddened her as much as the death of a mother or a baby was finding out the terrible particulars of the lives of some of the women she had helped. Terrible experience had shown her that all men were not as good and noble as her father had been. It was probably more accurate to say very few were like him. And for all her hard work, the slave-women in the inner court were a painful reminder that she was subject to any whim a man in the palace might have.

It was in the middle of this thought that she saw the Nephite for the first time. He was brought into the king by soldiers pushing their way to the front of the people still waiting audience with Lamoni. While guarded heavily, he didn’t seem to be struggling in any way. Although, thought Abish, he could have been struggling if he wanted to be. His tunic fully covered him from his shoulders to his knees, but his arms and legs were strong and lean. He appeared to be at total ease. He was nearly dark enough to be a Lamanite, but the tone of his skin was somehow different than Lamanite skin. His hair, rather than being black like nearly every person she had ever seen, was barely brown. His eyes also gave him away for what he was—clear, bright, blue and wide, soaking in everything around him. Abish, forgetting that she generally kept her eyes averted, stared openly. While the guards were explaining where they had found him, she found herself completely and fully mesmerized by his presence. There was light all around him, or so it seemed. She understood that he wasn’t exactly radiating, but there was something about him that drew her to him, the way plants grew toward the sun. In a flash she knew that marriage would not be the end of the world if there were men such as this in the world.

Lamoni was in the middle of asking Lemhah if anybody in the court spoke the language of the Nephites when the Nephite himself interrupted, “No translator is necessary, Your Highness, I can understand your words.” He bowed slightly, as he spoke, but Abish couldn’t help but think the bowing should have gone the other way. There was something royal about this foreigner. When he finished bowing, he smiled. It seemed to her that the whole room grew brighter.

The king, in spite of himself, seemed very pleased. A half-smile passed through his features, an expression she had sometimes seen when he was with the queen. “You are the first Nephite I have known to speak our language.”

“Have you known many Nephites?” The man’s tone was respectful, but surprisingly conversational.

“A few.”

“And what of them?”

“It is my pleasure what becomes of them, really.”

“You must be a very powerful king.” He bowed again.

“And you are a shocking flatterer, but there is something about you I like.” There was a pause as the king said this. He motioned a slave girl carrying a plate of fruit toward him. He began eating off the plate while he sized the man up. “So, Nephite, what is your desire? Did you just wander over from Zarahemla, getting lost in the jungle, or were you hoping to find warm reception here—to live among the Lamanites? Maybe right here in the Land of Ishmael?”

“I desire to dwell among this people for a time. Perhaps until the day I die. Which I hope, Your Majesty, is later rather than sooner.” There was an earnestness about him that made it impossible for Abish to take her eyes from him. He was indeed a flatterer, and he had a way with words, but she felt with her whole heart that each word was spoken with deep sincerity.

Lamoni motioned at his near guard, “Untie him.” The order was complied with immediately and the Nephite was unbound. “Now, perhaps we might get better acquainted. What is your name?”

“My name is Ammon, King Lamoni.”

“Ah, I see you already know my name.”

“A man would be a fool to travel so great a distance and not know the name of the one he had hoped to meet, or to learn anything of his customs.”

“I suppose that explains why you speak my language.”

“I learned it in the house of my father.”

Abish peered closely at him. In Lamanite lands, it was common to know more than one manner of speaking—their culture had been assembled from various others through generations, but she had thought the Nephites had only one language. Either Ammon had a Lamanite parent or he was a very important person to have had the leisure to devote to such learning. Lamoni must have been thinking the same thing, “But you have no Lamanite heritage.”

“None that I am aware of, Sire.”

“Perhaps you are a young man of nobility then, and you come to the Land of Ishmael to seek one of my daughters to wife. While I cannot say exactly why, I think such an alliance would very pleasing to me.”

Ammon was silent for a moment. The large hall was heavy with the waiting for his response. This too was cultural. While offering his daughter or daughter-to-be was a great honor to this foreigner, it also opened him up to bargaining with Lamoni. In an ancient practice taken from the old world, the father may exact any price he wanted in exchange for his daughter. Lamoni’s daughter was still a child, it would some years before she would be of an age to accept suitors. It would not be unusual for Lamoni to demand that Ammon act as his servant until she came of age or beyond. If Ammon accepted, he may as well sign his life away, but if he refused, then he may risk insulting a king. And while Ammon seemed to be weighing out this very thing, how could he possibly know of this tradition, mostly only observed by royalty?

Ammon looked around momentarily before he answered, and as he did he saw Abish for the first time. Her eyes locked on his and she couldn’t force herself to look away. She knew that it was only for an instant, that he had looked at many other people and things in the room, but his face was forever imprinted in her memory. Ammon finally spoke with low intensity, “You are a wealthy, powerful man, King Lamoni. With many riches and servants—no doubt your daughters are fair to look on and as noble as their father, but I did not come into this land to find a wife. I came to become your servant. Please allow me to serve your majesty in any capacity you see fit.”

The room was absolutely silent; Ammon’s words had trailed off to nearly a whisper and he held his head low. Abish exhaled her breath slowly. “Very well, Ammon. It is as you please. I will have you watch my sheep. It seems like it would be an easy job. I hope you find it so. Lemhah will show you where to go and what needs to be done.” He gestured again as he did so and his order was immediately followed. Lamoni’s tone had switched from one of intimacy, to one of coldness. Abish had seen this before—a slight change in tone or glance would show the subject had fallen out of favor with the king. Ammon, in a moment, had done just that; for watching the sheep was anything but easy.