Chapter 19: Prisoners

I wasn't quite dawn when Himni rose from his knees, several yards from where the others slept. He had fallen asleep quickly the night before, but woke up well before the sun came up. The hot, inky night had driven him from his slumber, and while he knew it wasn’t safe he had wanted desperately to be alone—to offer up a sincere, verbal prayer to his Heavenly Father. He had been on his knees a long time, though his remaining companions were not awake yet.

He stared across the plain, watching the sun rise and remembering that terrible day three weeks ago when the young boy had come running to warn them. He was so out of breath he could hardly speak. Himni had never seen the child before and did not understand how the boy knew them, or how he had happened to see the others arrested. Nobody else knew either. His appearance was a miracle, though little else had gone right since fleeing the city.

Then, finally, yesterday, King Antiomno had granted them an audience. It was agreed ahead of time that Omner would speak, but when it came time to bow before the king no words came. Fearful of losing their opportunity, Himni had stepped forward. As he stepped from behind his brother, he knew what had shocked Omner into speechlessness. King Antiomno was wearing a long necklace of what appeared to be human teeth. His chin was painted in a complicated pattern of swirls. The priests behind him were wearing headdresses made of a single row of black feathers, but the king’s head covering was elaborate and colorful. Himni had plunged ahead anyway.

To Himni’s surprise they were actually allowed to see their brothers while the king himself followed them to the dungeon. Himni shuddered involuntarily at the recent memory of the four missionaries. Their naked skin was dotted with recent and old bruises piled layer upon layer in a sickening sea of green and brown and purple. Aaron was still lucid, but the other three didn’t appear to be. They had obviously been given very little to eat, if anything. Willing himself to be tough in front of the king, Himni fought to keep the tears from spilling down his cheeks. After speaking to Aaron for just a moment, Antiomno had interrupted them.

He put his scepter under Omner’s chin and eyed him carefully. “You look like the tall one.”

Omner finally found his voice, “He’s my brother.”

The king cackled heartily, “Now isn’t that sweet. You have come to save your brother but when you see the heathen king you are too frightened to even beg for his life.” His cruel laughter reverberated the dungeon and Himni’s skin had gone cold with fear.

Finally recovering himself, the king had said, “It was my intention to throw you in with them. But now, I think, I have a better idea. You tell this white god of yours that nothing short of a miracle will save these men. It would take an order from King Lamoni-hah himself to release them, or plagues or locusts or hail or whatever your god sees fit to do. You go back to the woods and call on your god to make me release these men, or in a week’s time, they will be dragged to the top of my temple and sacrificed to the gods of the Lamanites while my people cheer. On that day you will know the real power of Heaven.”

Himni’s head hung low in the early morning light. After those terrible words, the king’s laughing expression dropped and was replaced with one of pure evil. Then, using his scepter, he had unexpectedly clubbed them both on the right side of the head, near the eye. The brothers hardly had time to react before they realized they were both dripping with blood. “Such a wound takes about a week to heal. If your brothers have not joined you by that time, then they won’t. Let’s call that the seal on the contract between your tiny god and the multitude of deities that fill my sky.” His laughter had followed them all the way out of the dungeon.

They had been escorted from the city. Now, less than a day later, Himni got to his knees again, praying for a miracle. After several minutes in this attitude the thought came to him that Ammon would somehow help them. Such a thing seemed nearly impossible, but Ammon had gotten Himni out of more than one seemingly impossible situation.

One of these times came vividly to his mind. When he was just seven, and Ammon was many years older, Himni was out in the fields, helping some of the workers harvest potatoes. There was an old well on the edge of the field that he and his brothers had been warned many times about, but curiosity got the better of him. He was seldom without his brothers and he took advantage of the opportunity to not be bossed by them. He had left his work and gone exploring. It was only after her fell into the well that he understood their words of warning. Panic set in almost immediately, though he tried very hard to keep his wits.

His brothers had taught him how to swim, so he treaded water for a long time, while alternating trying to cling to the slippery, rocky side. He called for help until he was so hoarse that even his tears were silent. His legs grew numb and he was sure that he would die. And then he heard Ammon’s voice. Later, Ammon would tell him that they were in the middle of their lessons that afternoon when suddenly he just knew his brother was in danger. He had unceremoniously left his studies and run to the old well. Mosiah had held his youngest son tightly that night; there was no punishment, obviously Himni had been punished enough by the fear attached to his disobedience. In his whole childhood, he remembered that as being the one day that Ammon and his father had gotten along.

There had been other times too, perhaps not so dramatic, but Ammon seemed to sense when Himni needed something. So, as Himni knelt, instead of just praying for a miracle, he prayed that wherever Ammon was and whatever he was doing, he would somehow know that Himni was in trouble and come to save them. Somehow.


Even with their letter from Lamoni’s father, Ammon’s anxiety increased hourly as they approached Middoni. He knew the men were exhausted. Since meeting the great king, Lamoni had insisted they not stop. They had traveled nearly all night, stopping just long enough to eat and rest their pack animals. Tempers were short, but Ammon ignored it. As long as Lamoni would push on ahead, Ammon did not disagree. Arriving even a few hours earlier might mean the difference between life and death for his brothers.

As they approached the city, Ammon could see that Abish had indeed been correct about the feast day’s approach. The road was crowded, and although safe passage was made for Lamoni, going was slow. On their fourth day of travel, they arrived at the city gates just before sundown. Lamoni hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” Ammon fought his impatience.

“I know what we need to do, friend, but there is some protocol that must be followed.” His diplomatic words soothed Ammon’s restlessness slightly and he continued. “Middoni is a well-protected city, as are all the cities at the north end of the Lamanite lands. This gate will be closed by sundown, allowing no exit or entrance until tomorrow morning. Our coming here tonight violates that security. Besides, the king is likely at or preparing for his evening meal. The interruption is unconventional.”

“So we camp.” Ammon tried very hard to not sound impatient, but he was certain that Lamoni knew him too well not see right through the façade.

“On the other hand, their feasting begins tomorrow at noon and Antiomno will not want the week’s festivities interrupted for any reason.”

“What is to be done?”

Ammon’s desperation made revelation impossible. Now, so close to their objective, he was at a total loss for how to proceed. There was a long pause. “We should wait,” Lamoni determined with an air of finality.

Ammon was less disappointed than he expected those words to make him feel. He had faith in Lamoni’s judgment, and he was grateful that someone else made the decision. He nodded slowly. “It is well. If we are rested our arguments will be more convincing.”


Just after dawn they entered the city gates and rode through a marketplace already becoming overcrowded. Unlike Ishmael, in Middoni everything was centrally located. The entire populace that Antiomno ruled was inside the walls. The congestion heightened with the many visitors streaming through the gates. Even though it was barely light, vendors were already busy selling a variety of foods and goods. Ammon knew he was very conspicuous at the king’s side and was unsure how to avoid eye contact—should he hold his head high and risk appearing haughty, or should he look down, as if he was Lamoni’s slave or prisoner? He opted for neither, keeping his eyes straight ahead, reminding himself that he too was a king’s son.

King Antiomno’s anger was evident, but Ammon sensed another emotion playing beneath his hard and impassive face. He was afraid. Deeply afraid. Ammon could see that he clenched his teeth, but whether it was fury over King Lamoni-hah’s royal decree read in front of him or because he was trying to keep his chin from quivering, Ammon wasn’t sure. He couldn’t explain it and wouldn’t press his luck with this man by pursuing the matter, but somehow in their coming he had seen the hand of God. And it terrified him.

The prisoners were ordered to come. Although he had separated from eight men all those months before, only four were brought. Ammon’s heart broke when he saw their condition. Their wrists and ankles were rubbed raw where they had obviously been tied. Their naked skins were tattooed with layer after layer of bruises. Aaron, the strongest of his brothers, was emaciated. His bones stuck out in sharp relief and he was the only one of the quartet able to stand on his own. But Ammon’s terror became so sharp he could almost taste it when he scanned and identified their faces. Ammon walked to Aaron and looked into his sad green eyes. “Are Omner and Himni dead, then?” The tears threatened to spill as he said the words aloud.

Weakly, Aaron shook his head. “They were never captured. I think they are in hiding in the jungle.”

Before Ammon could say anything else, Antiomno spoke, “The others you speak of sought audience with these men a week ago. They weren’t harmed and were given safe passage out of the city.”

Ammon bit off a sarcastic reply. He was quite certain the visit wasn’t as amiable as Antiomno would want them to believe. Ammon just kept his eyes on his brother’s and nodded, “We will find them.”

Aaron nodded too; the relief was so evident on his face that Ammon’s tears could not be stopped from spilling down his cheeks. Lamoni was businesslike as he arranged transport for the wounded men out of the city. Antiomno gave a display of hospitality by inviting them to stay in the palace. Lamoni was equally diplomatic in his refusal saying, “No, cousin, we have no wish to interrupt your feast day. Undoubtedly you have many important people staying with you: our business is to move on.”

“There are indeed many here this week. This is the most important of our festivals to honor the rain god. But then, I have heard strange rumors that those in the Land of Ishmael have stopped paying homage to the old gods.”

Lamoni paused and Ammon could see him weigh the words carefully. “It is true that many in our region have begun rethinking what they have always claimed to know about the gods.”

Seeing that he could not bait Lamoni, the king said no more. Still, as was proper, he walked Lamoni and his party to the front of his house. Just before they parted, Ammon stopped and said, “King Antiomno?” He bowed low as he said it, his heart in his throat but knowing the Lord had given him the words to say.

The King narrowed his eyes at being addressed by the Nephite, but he nodded his head for him to proceed anyway. “Thank you for the release of my brethren. For the kindness you have shown this day, God has in turn shown me how this people might receive their rain.”

Ammon met his hard gaze without flinching and could read the thinly veiled curiosity just under the surface. “And how is that, Nephite?”

Ammon smiled so slightly, “Several years ago this very week, a holy man was killed on your sacrifice day for his testimony of the living God. His death was meant to appease your rain deity who then sent no significant rain to replenish your barren land. Middoni has been under condemnation all these years for his death, and for the deaths of others in like manner. If you will announce to your people this day that there will be no sacrifice; that the Nephites you captured have been given their freedom as well as all the other victims, then the only true God with any power in the universe will send you the rain your people desperately need.”

The color had drained from Antiomno’s face and his eyes grew wide. Ammon felt the power of the Lord move through his entire body as he made his prophecy. Ammon lowered his voice, “The feeling in your heart tells you I have spoken truly. You are a great king—a man who can destroy life at whim. But if you will follow the counsel of the Lord’s servant this day and risk the displeasure of your priests, then you will do the first brave thing you have ever done in your life. Today your courage could save your nation.”

Antiomno blinked and the direct gaze he’d held Ammon locked in for several moments was broken. He shook his head and staggered back from Ammon, the color returning slightly to his face, “Get out of my house.” He said with a low growl.

Ammon bowed low, “As your majesty wishes.”

Little was said until the group was well outside the city gates. A camp was made in the jungle and scouts were sent to locate the others. Their camp was not makeshift; it would be some time before Aaron, Muloki, Ammah and Shem were well enough to travel. Lamoni ordered them to build it on the highest ground they could find. Ammon looked at him sideways as he gave the orders. When they were alone, Ammon said, “I like your faith, friend. We will be drier on high ground if the rain does indeed come.”

Lamoni smiled. “Antiomno was angry, but he didn’t kill you on the spot. He knows that only God could have delivered those men from prison today. He has a few hours to mull over the most important decision of his life. I think he will make the right choice.”

Ammon smiled at this man who had become dearer to him than any save his brothers in the past six months. “I hope so. It would be a great boon to the missionary work in this city.”

There was silence for a moment. Limhi said, “Did the Lord tell you about the holy man that was killed here? Antiomno seemed to know of what you were speaking.”

Ammon shook his head. “The Lord didn’t tell me. Abish did.”

“Abish? The midwife?”

He nodded. “The holy man killed was her father. He hadn’t been dead a month when she found herself a slave in your household.”

“All these years, and I had no idea.”

Ammon clapped him on the back. “Even in suffering there is purpose. Before he was killed he taught her the gospel. She never forgot him or his message, and she has kept the faith close to her heart. It is her prayers that led me to your household; her friendship with Zaria that caused your wife to listen instead of having me killed when you were finding your way through the veil of unbelief; and it was information she gave me that prepared me to defend your sheep.” Lamoni looked in astonishment at Ammon’s grin. “In all the years I guarded my father’s flocks I never took a large and newly sharpened sword with me to do so. The Lord gave me strength that day, but his handmaiden gave me a tip.”

Lamoni laughed heartily. “I like you more all the time, Ammon. I can hardly wait to meet the rest of your family.”

“Me too, brother, me too.”

Omner, Himni and the others were found just later that day. Himni looked directly at Ammon and smiled one of his rare smiles. “We stayed close to the city; I knew we would see you today. You have always been there when I needed help the most.”

“We were almost too late,” Ammon said soberly as he hugged his younger brother.

“But you weren’t.”

That very night, storm clouds rolled in and the heavens poured. The parched earth soaked it up as a sponge. Muddy water ran in rivulets all around their tents. Only Himni did not sleep soundly in the wonderfully cool evening. He stood out in the rain, allowing it to wash over him in great torrents. He laughed for joy at being reunited with his brothers, and for a city that was ripe for conversion.