Chapter 7: The Son of A King

Ammon idly skipped rocks into the lake they camped near. He nearly snorted with derision. Camped? More like set up a new colony. It had been a year since they left their father’s city to come and preach to the Lamanites. Yet, here they still were. The boundary between the two lands was vague, but Ammon was quite sure they were not in Lamanite lands yet.

True, there had been sickness, and they’d spent time learning the Lamanite tongue, which Ammon and Aaron were already fluent in. His younger brothers and none of their companions were, so he supposed the learning and study had been good. They had also made extensive study of, and an entire copy of the most the important scriptures. He had to admit he’d actually known very little of the scriptures when he’d asked his father if he could be a missionary. The request was starting to seem rash, even though he was no stranger to spontaneity.

He sighed as he sat on the sand near the lake and dropped the handful of rocks he’d collected for his useless task. No, the decision wasn’t rash; it was the only way he felt that he could truly make recompense for the many mistakes of his youth. He knew he had repented, he even believed he’d been forgiven, but he was still having a hard time fully forgiving himself. The memories of his impassioned cries against following the rules set forth by the Church—by God Himself—still echoed through his soul. If he could somehow push those memories aside by having new experiences where his mouth was opened on the side of goodness and truth, perhaps the past would no longer plague him.

Yet, this very day the past had plagued him. A messenger from his father had come. The letter had been addressed in Mosiah’s own hand to Aaron. The scroll had frustrated Ammon for two reasons. First, if a messenger had been able to deliver it so readily to their camp, then they were really more permanent in this spot than they’d ever intended to be. The second frustration was purely prideful—why should the letter have been addressed to Aaron? Ammon was the eldest. He fought the feeling of jealousy: his rational side telling him that Aaron had always been a much better leader. Even when they had been fighting the church so hard and Ammon’s incendiary words fueled the fires of anger and prejudice, their group had always looked to Aaron as much as Alma to organize and direct, even though he’d been very young. It was the same now; Ammon’s testimony and passion bolstered and inspired them, but Aaron was in complete charge of the day to day running of their camp.

Ammon gritted his teeth and bowed his head, pleading with the Lord to remove such strong feelings from him. They were a great blessing and, at times, a great curse. Just then he heard movement behind him and looked up suddenly.

It was Aaron. In spite of himself, Ammon smiled. Aaron was the most handsome of his three brothers. He had very dark, almost black hair and while his greenish eyes lacked the intensity of Ammon’s blue ones, his whole demeanor was supremely confident. His skin, even with all their days spent out of doors, was much fairer than Ammon’s. He was tall and broad with powerful features, all legacies from their father. In fact, Ammon could never remember a time he had been taller than his brother whose birth was only two days shy of exactly one year after his. Despite their differences in appearance, people had often commented that they couldn’t be closer if they had been twins. “Ho there, brother.”

“Did I interrupt your mediation?” Aaron looked concerned.

Ammon grinned and chuckled, “No. I’ve meditated so much the past year the Lord is saying ‘enough already, Ammon, just get out there and preach.’”

Aaron smiled slightly, “Maybe not.”

“Oh?”

“News from our father.”

“I’ve been curious about that.”

“I am sure you have been.” Aaron smiled reassuringly, and that is all that would ever pass between them about the seeming impropriety of the correspondence. “Our father is sick.”

Ammon nodded. “He is not a young man.”

“No, and the people have spoken about whom they want for a king.” Ammon looked sideways on his brother, wondering what he would say. Blue eyes focused on green for a moment and then Aaron said quietly, “They have asked me to return.”

Ammon nodded slowly, thinking he had prepared himself for this very outcome, but still feeling the shock of it. “Will you go?”

“No, but father already knows. He and I actually spoke on this matter for a long time before we came out.”

“You did?”

“Even our first father, Nephi, did not want a king. He discouraged the people from such a practice, preferring an alternative.”

“What alternative?”

“Father would like to propose a system of judges who will share responsibility for decisions and be chosen by the people.”

Ammon mulled this over for a moment and then said, “It is a good idea.”

“It is, but he had to send this letter first—to make sure. He thinks the people will only go for his idea on the argument that we all support the change. Our father says that if I am unwilling they would take any of his children.”

“So if you don’t go, then I might?”

“Or Omner or Himni.”

Ammon nodded slowly as he looked out over the lake. He stood and began skipping rocks again. His wrist flicking sharply as the stones sailed across the smooth water. The twilight was waning; he knew that they would have to get back to camp quickly. In the stillness he could sense Aaron waiting for an answer. “From our childhood we were brought up to be kings.”

“Yes.”

“I never thought about any other path. Even when we worked with Alma to persecute the Church so openly, it was more about the power we had over people and less about the doctrine. I loved looking into the faces of the crowd and seeing their eyes so focused on me, believing my words, willing to follow whatever I said. It ceased to matter to me what I said anymore, as long as they listened and believed it.” There was more silence in the dark. Aaron would not speak until he knew he understood what Ammon was getting at. Ammon turned now to look at his younger brother. His voice became low and intense.

“I think a part of my natural heart wants to be king. I still crave that feeling you have when you know people are following you into whatever you will lead them to. It is a part of myself that I fear; it is a part of myself that must be subdued if I am ever to see the salvation of God. I am out here in this wilderness because I want to become who God wants me to be, if such a thing is possible. The great mission of my life will be to learn to subdue my will, my desire for power, to God’s will and His power.”

“You are a good man, brother.”

Ammon turned back to the lake and skipped his last stone. “I want to be. Oh, Aaron, I want to be.”

“We will write our father tonight and return his message.”

“We should talk to Omner and Himni.”

“Do you think? They are still so young.”

“Father is a great believer in the will of the people. And though they are young they are both willing to serve and full of compassion. They should likewise have a chance to accept or refuse.”

“We will speak with them.”

Silently, the two brothers began moving through the darkening forest toward their camp. Before going very far Ammon said, “And we need to leave this place. Before another letter comes, before we even learn the fate of our father or our people. It is time to move on and fulfill the mission we have agreed to do.”

Aaron nodded again. A moment later he said quietly, “I am sorry it wasn’t you the people chose. It is the natural order of things.”

Ammon shrugged again and smiled lightly patting Aaron on the back while he struggled against the natural man raging in his soul. “Nephi was a younger brother, and the best of all our leaders.”

Aaron returned the half hug his brother had given, “I bet his older brother Sam was like you. Nephi must have always been grateful that one of them was willing to listen.”

“All will be well, brother.”