Chapter 23: A Miracle

The fever to bury weapons spread through the land like a grassfire. Abish bit her tongue as she watched women catch their husbands’ excitement. It was harder to stay quiet when she heard these same women say that they’d heard Ammon prophesy that Christ Himself would come down to stop the soldiers. What good would it do to rob the false hope these women clung to? The reality would set in soon enough.

Or not so soon. The anticipation of the attack was almost more than Abish could bear. She fought to keep her calm; her very livelihood depended on how competent she seemed to the women she helped. And she worried about Zaria. She was under too much stress for a woman within two months of delivery. It seemed to Abish that Zaria was the only one who harbored her same fears. “Does it seem like we are surrounded by faith, or just fanaticism?” The queen asked Abish very quietly one morning as Abish brushed her hair—a ritual that had been readopted with Abish in the next room.

Abish sighed, “I know. Every other time there has been this kind of fervor, I have felt it down deep, in my heart. This time, there is . . .”

“Just a sickening dread for what lies ahead.”

“Dread alternating with a dead and empty feeling. I feel exactly the same way I did in the days after my father’s death.”

Still the waiting continued. Abish knew the sons of Mosiah had not left the city. Whatever happened, they would witness it, or be a part of it. At least they were not cowards. The brothers often joined Lamoni’s family for their evening meal, as did Abish. She noticed the way Ammon carefully avoided looking at her, even as she was busy avoiding looking at him. She had not yet come around to being sorry for the things she said to him. She began to believe there was another person in her life who would die before she could make amends, but she couldn’t bring herself to unsay what she had said.

Finally word came of a large army amassing just a day or two away. The men were ready, having organized themselves into groups ready to march to the plain just north and east of the great city. They brought few provisions, not knowing how long they’d have need of them. On the day the men began their exodus from the city to the battlefield tomb, Abish could see the subdued looks on the faces of women gathered in the streets, trying to pretend everything was normal, that their farewells were only temporary. Even their zealous faith could not see them easily through the actual goodbye. By then end of the day the whole city was tense with waiting.

Abish walked to the front gate of the palace to lock it. This was a job the guards normally handled, but the city was nearly empty of men that night. She laughed at the futility of locking the gate. If an army poured into town, a simple lock would not keep anybody out. She expected the street to be deserted, but was shocked to Himni there, fully armed.

“Himni?” She called into the darkness, sure that her eyes were deceiving her.

He started, “Abish. You should be inside; this night may not be safe.”

“But you are here.”

“I think that one will not deter an army.” He sounded deeply sorrowful.

“But there is one man willing to try.”

Even in the near-darkness, she could see her hard words pained him. “Please, sister, do not think this way. Every man must do what he feels is best during perilous times.”

“And I suppose that means every woman is left without a choice?”

There was a long pause, and finally, so low she could barely hear him, “When I was reunited with my brother all those years ago, he told me the story of a woman with such faith, that even in slavery, she had chosen to pray every day for the gospel to come to her land. When every other choice had been taken from her, she still chose to believe.”

His words were said with such gentle tenderness they almost reached her heart. Before the emotion could overtake her she said, “I have changed a lot since then.”

“Perhaps.”

“But you aren’t out on the front tonight, either. What of your faith?” Abish felt a sudden desire to goad and hurt him, the way she had Ammon.

He shook his head, “My brothers and I made no covenant. As much as we love your people, we have never forgotten that we are not a part of them.”

“I am not sure Ammon feels that way.”

“He didn’t make the covenant either. And when Lamoni asked Ammon to defend his wife, he didn’t hesitate.” Abish looked puzzled. “I am here tonight and Ammon is at the door to Zaria’s room.” Her eyes grew big and Himni continued, again in that low, soothing tone. “Which I believe is your room too?”

“Yes.” She practically stammered the word. But she would not let his soothing words and calming presence rob her anger. “There are many women in the city this night who do not have such reassurance.”

Himni nodded, “And my prayers are with them. I have done all I can.”

She said nothing more, and left him at the gate, feeling his peculiar eyes burrowing into her back. As she made her way down the corridor to Zaria’s room, she did see Ammon waiting there. She had to speak to him, it was necessary that she pass him before entering. “Hello.” He nodded, curtly, and stood aside for her. She began to enter the room, and then she felt compelled to say, “Thank you, Ammon.”

The expression on his face didn’t change. “I wanted to be out there with my brethren, but many years ago I vowed to Lamoni that I would serve him all the days of my life. Tonight, this is where he sent me.”

“Then I thank you for keeping your commitment.”

“You have Himni to thank.”

“Himni?”

“I believe Lamoni would have had his Nephite brothers at his side, but once Himni gave him this idea, he could not get it out of his head.”

“I am sorry you are here against your will, but I am not sorry you are here.”

“We will see.”

She awoke near dawn to the sound of drums, as relentless and steady as the ones that played while her farther marched to his death. Zaria said quietly before Abish could ask the question, “War drums.” Abish said nothing, just sat and held her friend’s hand, waiting, desperately trying to fight the image of dozens of Lamanite warriors pouring through the garden into these beautiful and vulnerable rooms. Her dream from so many weeks before pounded in her brain with the rythym of the drum beats; the desperation she had carried in her heart for so many weeks began to slowly fill her soul.


In the years after, Abish would never be able to describe that day as any more than a blur. It seemed like she had sat silently for hours, shoulder to shoulder with Zaria and her daughters in the big bedroom. Then, everything happened at once. Ammon burst through the door. The sudden movement caused Sariah to scream and instant panic spread among the children as Abish fully expected the horrors to start.

Ammon’s eyes were wild, but hopeful. He sought out the queen, “The city is not under attack. We have received word from the front that the fighting is over. The enemies have retreated.”

Retreated? Had Christ really come to deliver this people? Abish practically leaped off the bed, as did Zaria and Sariah and Selah. Ammon stopped them at the door. “No. I think it is not good for you to go.”

“There will be wounded; they will need nurses. And Zaria will want to see Lamoni.” Abish insisted.

“It may not be safe.”

Zaria backed away, putting her hand under her belly. “I will stay with the children, but I think Abish should go.”

Ammon’s blue eyes darted between their faces and then he nodded, “Very well.”

Lamoni’s home was in the center of the city and it took her nearly two hours to walk to the plain. As she walked, she saw many trickling into the city. Some were wounded, but she knew if they were walking then they were not in need of immediate attention. As she neared the edge of town, she felt the urgency grow inside of her and her steps became faster and faster until she was practically running to reach the battlefield. Then she halted abruptly when she reached the spot.

The image from her dream flooded her brain for the hundredth time, but it was no dream. The sight before her was sickeningly real. She began running among bodies, looking for someone, anyone that was alive. She saw many women, like herself, but it didn’t seem to Abish they had come to help. They were looking for fallen loved ones. She was puzzled to see some Lamanite soldiers dead among the slaughter of her own people. Had some of the men fought after all? And what could have possibly made the rest of the soldiers retreat? These questions stopped as soon as she found a living man. She knelt at his side and began offering the help she could. She gritted her teeth against the sight of the arrow in his arm and the way his head had been bashed. How could he still be breathing? His eyes were glazed over, and the sticky blood was dried all over his neck and torso. She didn’t even know what to do for such injuries. If he did survive these first few days, he would surely die of a fever. She found a spot where the wound was still oozing blood and she applied pressure to it with one of the rags she had brought. She looked around the field; there was no one to help her.


The first man died in her arms, as did most of the others she found alive. By late afternoon, others had joined her—the sons of Mosiah, the few unwounded men, and women like herself. Some were found alive, but many of them so badly injured that they could only be made as comfortable as possible until their inevitable deaths. Just as dusk settled in, Lamoni’s body was found. The damage was brutal, unspeakable. His sons were slaughtered in a similar fashion—one on his right and one on his left.

Abish held his cold, mutilated, stiff corpse in her arms and wept noisy and bitter tears over the king who had, for a moment, restored hope to her people. She wept for the pain she knew Zaria would feel and for the baby who would never know the valiance of his father. Her tears turned into screaming wails after the manner of the Lamanite women. Abish felt as though she heard the screams from outside, as if someone else was making the sound. The hairs on her arms and neck stood up for the absolute misery in the sound. It was then that someone pried Lamoni’s body from her arms, and carried her to a place where she might rest. She was exhausted and past real awareness.

The next thing she remembered was waking up in a makeshift tent to a terrible smell. It had been a warm night and the bodies had already begun to rot. The ache in her head pounded until she thought she’d go blind from the pain, but she staggered from the tent anyway. There was a terrible buzz in her ears as she stepped into the bright sunlight. She took a large dipper from the fresh water in the bucket at the entrance to the tent, hoping the moisture would alleviate her terrible headache and make the buzzing go aways. The water helped to soothe the ache in her head slightly, but the buzz became sharper. Then she realized something.

The buzz was not in her head at all, but surrounding her. Flies. Tens of thousands of them swarming down on warm, stinking corpses. The carrion birds swept from the forest, more efficient at getting rid of bodies than the few healthy humans walking among the dead. Abish finished her drink and walked dazedly toward the scene of destruction. The scope of the work to be done nearly overwhelmed her, but the self-discipline wrought over years of doing her duty moved her feet forward into the carnage.

As the days wore on, she realized that the men she saw were not the worst. Many young boys, hardly more than children had followed their fathers. In addition, there was the occasional body of a woman or a young girl—families who had joined their fathers to witness the miracle first hand. The miracle that didn’t happen. Abish hoped the soldiers who had killed them were in too much a frenzy of slaughter to notice these women and girls so that death came suddenly for them too.

Abish flapped her arms and screamed angrily at the hideous bald vulture which hovered just a few feet from where she was tending her latest young victim. For two days she’d been out in the muck and the mire; for two three days this young boy had been practically buried in bodies and blood and flies. She felt sick as she looked as his delirious and yet dear young face. She knew that in not too many months, this young man would celebrate his tenth birthday, if he lived that long. She knew because the boy in her arms was the first baby she had delivered on her own. The body she’d pushed aside when she heard his feeble cries was was Ham’s. Perhaps his father’s last act had been to throw his wounded body on top of his first-born son in the hope of saving his life. Abish cradled Omri’s head with one arm while she threw rocks at the vulture with another. Ham would get a proper burial if she could do anything about it.

Within minutes, she knew her rock throwing was futile, the vulture had gone for reinforcements. Besides, her sudden movements seemed to upset young Omri who was delirious with pain. With what seemed to be the last of her strength she heaved him out from under a second man who lay across his legs. He screamed with pain and then fell limp against her as Abish saw the source of his pain was a crushed leg. The child’s brow was feverish and sticky with sweat. With unseeing eyes, he whimpered for his mother while Abish sang the remembered strains from an old lullaby her friend had often sung to her little charges. The music seemed to relax him slightly and she sang what she knew over and over again while the vultures swarmed around her and began to pick at Ham’s body.

Abish held him close, the tears that never dried in this place oozed out from her eyelids and down her filthy cheeks. She hefted the large boy into her arms, carrying him clumsily to the makeshift hut where the living waited for a slow death. Her legs nearly buckled under his weight; exhaustion and anger had made her weak. Women and men dying for what they believed in was one thing, but how could Omri with his tender years understand the sacrifice he was making? Yet here he was writhing in agony from the splintered bones sticking through the skin in his lower leg, and probably wounds she couldn’t see. He didn’t seem to recognize her face, though she had often visited in his home. His delirium made him oblivious to everything but pain. What would she tell Sasha? She thought of the tiny bag she wore at her waist where she only had a pitifully small dosage of herbs to give him. He would need much more if he was to rest. In a flash, she could see the rest of his short life—he would likely die of infection if the loss of blood didn’t get him first. She fought the memory of the precious, triumphant moment of his birth and the way his mother laughed for joy when he was laid in her arms.

They had begun burying the dead in a massive grave just outside town. Would Sasha ever hold her miracle baby in her arms again? Would she see Ham’s body before it too was pushed into the pile as some wild animal without any proper ceremony or prayer? Or before the vultures picked his bones clean? Her head whirled with her own sense of delirium as the smell threatened to overwhelm her again. Her sense of loss for the little forgotten boy in her arms was sharp as the loss of their king.

She hadn’t slept since the night after the massacre, had it been two or three days before? The exhaustion in her arms was heavy and her head was muddled. She’d been wearing the same dress for days and it was covered with blood and dirt. The heat was nearly unbearable and she felt the sweat trickle down her neck and breasts even though it was still a couple of hours until midday. She fought the screaming wails that threatened to escape. Such a noise would help no one in this place even if it would make her feel better for a moment.

She forced her bleary eyes to focus as she stopped to rest. She gingerly lay Omri on the ground, not sure if she’d have the energy to pick him back up. She scanned the battlefield and could see the sons of Mosiah and their companions circulating in twos, offering blessings and words of comfort. Comfort! Abish nearly choked on the thought. How was there any measure of comfort in this? She felt a bitterness she had never known before swell like gall in her throat until she thought she would wretch. All of those years of prayers and faith—now, to end like this! Where was the joy her people had known just the year previous? Was this what their God had led them to? In that moment, as never before, Abish doubted. She doubted every word she’d ever heard about the God of the Nephites; mostly she doubted any spiritual feeling she’d ever had. How could a merciful god have stood by while this happened? How could there be any beneficent god in a place like this?

Still, she knew that as long as she had strength to stand she would do what she could for the injured. Himni had tried to speak to her once yesterday, but she had rudely brushed him aside. Tears smarted in her eyes as she thought of the hurt and confusion evident in his strong features. She needed to get some water—to get off the blood-stained battlefield that was rank with death. She signaled to someone to help her carry Omri to the makeshift hospital. At least there was water there and a measure of shelter from the harshest sun.

The sight of the dead was almost better than the living. The smell wasn’t quite as strong here, but the sounds were horrible. Abish found a bucket of water and drained a large dipperful. She looked up and across the tent to see Zaria. Her eyes widened in shock and her slow movements suddenly became quick. “Your majesty, what are you doing here?”

Zaria’s smile was wan. “I came to help.”

Abish took her arm and led her to a place to sit. “But you need help.”

Her face was pale and waxy from heat and swelling. She eased carefully onto the overturned crate. Abish noted her swollen ankes with a scowl as the queen said, “I couldn’t sit idly by while all this was going on.” She gestured weakly around her.

“How long have you been here?”

“Since yesterday afternoon.”

“Did you walk?” Zaria nodded slowly, braving her midwife’s displeasure. Abish was stern, “The best thing for this kingdom right now is the delivery of a healthy baby. What good can you possibly do here?”

“Giving hope.” Zaria said softly, “You must admit that it could have been much worse.”
Abish’s eyes narrowed and she knew her face was hard. She bit back asking Zaria if she had seen what had been done to her husband and stepsons and just gave a bark of a laugh. “You are going home right now. This baby will be more than a month early if it comes now--too soon under these conditions. You cannot deliver a baby in this filth.”

Zaria could see Abish’s logic and nodded slowly again. She agreed to sit while someone was found to transport her back to the palace. Abish saw Aaron just then, carrying a wounded man into the shelter and looking for a place, any place to lay him. “Aaron!” Abish called to him.

He looked up abruptly as she lifted her skirt over bodies to make her way to him. “The queen needs to get home”

“Zaria is here?”

The concern on his face was immediate and Abish hoped that he’d agree to spare the men to take arrange a litter for her. “Yes. She walked here yesterday. I am worried the baby will come early, and this is a bad place for a delivery.”

“I will arrange transport for her myself.”

“Quickly,” in her urgency she was snappish.

Aaron nodded and left the tent as quickly as he found a place for the girl he’d brought inside. Abish tended both the girl and the queen, noting that the queen’s color wasn’t much better than the child’s.

Minutes later, she was gratified to see Aaron return with a group of men and a carrier on which to transport the queen. As they came closer, however, she noted that several of the men were Lamanite soldiers. She was in complete shock. She had seen these men around, but had not questioned their presence—it was too much to think about. One of the injured men she tended told her the soldiers turned on each other when the rearguard realized what was happening up at the front. Another injured man told her that many of the soldiers had thrown down their weapons in penitence. She had turned a deaf ear, thinking they were only the raving deliriums of dying men; but now, right before her, was Aaron with a group of them.

She confronted him, “These men cannot transport our queen to the palace.”

Aaron tried to be soothing, but he was not as good at it as Himni. Aaron was used to being in charge, “Now, Abish, I know how you must be feeling.”

“You have no idea what I am feeling. How can you trust these men to escort our queen when you see all this?” This time she didn’t care if she sounded shrewish.

“I will not leave Queen Zaria alone; I will go too.” This placated Abish somewhat, but still she hesitated. He continued, “In truth, there is no one else to spare. These men must do the job or Zaria must stay here.”

That settled it, but Abish still felt deep misgiving as she saw the queen settled into her litter. She kissed her cheek and promised to come as soon as she could. Abish gave last minute instructions to Aaron about carrying the litter as carefully as possible with a minimum of jarring.

She tried to banish her friend’s condition from her thoughts and turn back to the task at hand. There were other women helping in the tent, so she decided to return to the battlefield. It was beoming increasingly unlikely that any more live bodies would be found, but the men who were working would certainly need water.

She picked up a large jug and took it to the well where she filled it as full as she could. She balanced it on her head, and took a deep breath to prepare herself again for the terrible sights and smells. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and suddenly heard a voice at her elbow. “Abish, you are needed.”

She opened her eyes and turned slowly to see Omner at her right. Although Aaron had organized the efforts of the last few days, and Ammon and Himni had given blessings of comfort and healing to mourners and survivors, it was Omner she had seen most often out here moving bodies and digging graves. He said, “Let others tend to the sick; I need your help elsewhere.”

“And what special skills do I have that would pull me away from this?” She didn’t even try to keep the edge out of her voice. Still, she placed her water carefully on the ground and began to follow him back into the city. The walked for several minutes and passed the hospital. He led her further into town than she had been for several days to the site of a large outdoor pavilion where a market was held during harvest season. Her eyebrows furrowed when she saw the crowd gathered. Who were all these people?

He said, “You speak several Lamanite dialects, don’t you?”

“Some.”

“We need an interpreter. For the soldiers.”

Abish looked at him sharply. “What soldiers?”

“Those who have stayed behind after their captain ordered a retreat.”

“Prisoners?” Abish asked with a measure of excitement. Perhaps there would be retribution.

He shook his head. “Converts.”

Abish stopped short. Omner turned to look at her. She had never before noticed how intense and serious his eyes were. They bored straight into hers, but she took a deep gulp and said, “No, no. I thought it was a rumor.”

“You have seen these men out working yourself. It is not a rumor. It is a miracle.”

“A miracle?” Her voice was hard. “A miracle? How can you drag God into any part of this mess? Less than a ten minute walk from here there are women and children, dying from grotesque wounds because of these men. You want me to help them?”

“God does not judge men for things they do not understand.”

“The Lamanites may not live by the Nephite laws of right and wrong, but these men were taught to fight armies, not children. They knew better.”

“These men followed their commanders into battle without clear information. The ones here are responsible for the stop to the destruction. It would have been worse without them. Every one of these men defied orders to turn on their fellow soldiers when they saw what was happening. The other Lamanites fled because of these men. Now they want to learn the gospel; they want to learn what it is that makes a man so brave that he will face an awful death without even a sword to defend himself.”

“I’d like to make it known that I was never that crazy about the leave-your-swords-at-home battle plan.”

“God didn’t want us to fight a war. He wanted our numbers to grow.”

Abish’s anger, so close to the surface these days, came out in hot and angry tears. She shouted, “Yesterday I held a little girl in my arms while she died, her skull smashed from the blow of soldier’s club. God wanted our numbers to grow? Where is the husband she should have had? Who are the righteous children she will raise up? Nothing God could do now will undo the horror committed here.”

Omner’s own eyes filled with tears. She saw that he too had a great compassion for the people, and she knew her bitterness was pushing her to edge of irrationality. He reached his hand out and touched her arm. “Perhaps God will do the impossible. Maybe you will see a miracle this day.”

She stared at his intense gaze while something deep inside of her stirred; she was angered by the ember of testimony Omner’s words kindled. Bereft of real belief, she felt herself nod anyway as she whispered. “I will follow you.”

He smiled slightly and his own tears spilled over. “Dear Abish, where will any of us be if your faith falters?” He led her, subdued, toward the teeming pavilion.

Her first impression was that there were hundreds of men. The stench near the pavilion was very real, yet she was grateful for the smell of living bodies instead of dead or dying ones. Omner briefed Abish over the din.

“These men have been organized according to what language they speak. They are being taught the gospel in shifts.”

“Shifts?”

“Yes. We rotate them through every few hours—this is only a part of the men right now. The rest are working in other parts of the city and out on the battlefield. Helping the women nurse the sick. Digging graves. Replanting crops. We told them if they wanted to stay, they had to help.” As they walked and talked, Omner pointed things out and explained the logistics. Omner is the hands. Despite her anger, she couldn’t help but admire Omner’s efficiency.

“Now why am I here?”

“I need a translator. They are doing well enough at helping, but I’m unable to teach the gospel to some of them.”

“I’m not sure I’m the best one to be preaching right now.”

He smiled sideways at Abish, looking for a moment like all of his brothers at once, “You just interpret, I’ll preach.”

She spent the day at his side, knowing the work she was doing was fanning the flames of the testimony she had believed dead just hours before. On some level she knew that this small light in her heart would be enough to see her through another walk to the hospital or the battlefield.

As dusk approached, Abish and Omner paused for a few minutes to eat some bread. It wasn’t much, but Abish devoured it hungrily, suddenly realizing that she had no idea when she had last eaten. Seeing Omner standing slightly apart for a moment, two men approached him, eager to have more of their questions answered. Their language was one Omner understood and Abish allowed her attention to wander from their earnest conversation. The room seemed to spin as she stood still, deep tiredness stealing over her so quickly that she thought she might fall right where she was.

That is when she saw him.

He stood several feet away, leaned against the wall, his arms heavily tattooed with the marks of bravery in the Lamanite army. His jaw was hard and his body lean; he had undoubtedly been a soldier for a very long time. But it was the eyes the drew Abish in.

Eyes exactly like her fathers.

Eyes exactly like Abish’ own.

She interrupted Omner without realizing what she was doing, “Do you know that man over there?”

There must have been something in Abish’s tone that said how important is answer was because he abandoned his conversation in-mid sentence, his eyes following Abish’s finger.

Omner shrugged, “I spoke to him earlier. From Helam I think.”

“Do yo know his name?”

“No.” But then he turned to the soldiers still standing with them and asked the same question.

To which one of them responded, “Yes. Leonti is his name.”

The eyes. The name. All the same. “What is it Abish?” Omner’s question broke her inense concentration.

“I think that man is my brother that I’ve not seen in nearly fifteen years.”

She walked away from Omner, her half-eaten bread thrust into his hand. Her hunger mattered little now. Only finding out if this miracle was for her too. She approached him timidly, unsure what to say, but almost certain that a confused look of recognition passed through his features as he looked at her.

“Do I know you?” His speech was heavily accented, but the language spoken in Helam.

Abish replied in the language of their childhood, “Was your father called Armac?”

This time the recognition was founded on something and he peered closely before whispering, “Abish?”

“Leonti?”

And then suddenly the two siblings were crying and hugging and laughing as tumbled bits of their stories all came out at once. But they had hardly spoken when a child’s voice called out, “Abish! The queen!”

Abish whirled from her brother to see a young child of just eight or nine years old calling her name. Abish didn’t know the girl. “I am Abish. Is something wrong with the queen?”

The child was breathless and sweating. “I was sent; she did not make it to the palace before her labors began. She is staying with a family in the city. You must come now.”

“Of course.”

Abish took just a moment to look back at her brother who smiled lightly, “When I last I saw you, you were but a child. And now it seems that you are the queen’s most important friend. You have much to tell me.”

Abish smiled in return, “There is time; I will come back.”

Leonti nodded, “I will be here. There is no where else for me to be.”

She leaned up and kissed his cheeks while she held his arms, the solid feel of family in her hands was almost more than she could bear and her eyes watered. As she turned back to follow the child she prayed that God had still another miracle to perform this day. Zaria’s ordeal was far from over.

For some time she ran through the streets with the girl and darkness began to settle in the city. Abish was fearful they would not find the house in time. With nothing more than a child to lead her, the anxiety she felt intensified.

The little girl stopped abruptly at a well, “I must drink,” she said. Abish nodded, waiting her turn at the dipper as the girl drew water. She was panting heavily and the exhaustion she had fought for days began to sink in; the bread she had forgotten to eat suddenly seemed like a feast. Her legs felt like lead and she hoped they were close. After she drank, the girl said in a steady voice, “Do not worry, sister, God is guiding us. He knows that our people are in desperate need of something wonderful. This boy-child will come to take his father’s place.”

For years it had been Abish’s fondest wish to be surrounded by faith; now, on the day when she most wanted to escape it, she could not. Abish smiled slightly, disbelieving, “Are you a prophet?”

The girl laughed, her great brown eyes dancing, “No. But Aaron is the Lord’s messenger. I have brought you his message.”

Without expecting it, Abish felt a great surge of energy grow inside. “We must run then; the queen needs us.”

Within minutes they arrived at the home Zaria had been taken to. The energy Abish had felt at the well did not leave and she was able to get the household quickly organized. There was a mother and two older daughters in the house—their father had died, along with an older brother. Although she said little, Abish suspected the oldest daughter had lost a sweetheart as well. Despite their loss, the women were eager to help. Abish knew that staying busy would help them to put aside difficult memories, if only for a night, so she put each of them to work. Aaron sent the soldiers back to their camp, but he stayed to give Zaria a blessing and keep vigil. The weak glow in her heart grew stronger as she heard Aaron’s blessing. For the first time in days, Abish found herself on her knees during that long night, pleading with the Lord to overlook her lack of faith and bless Zaria for her sacrifice of this week.

It had been many, many years since Zaria’s last baby and her body acted as though this was the first time. The labor was slow and difficult. But in the early dawn, a very tiny baby boy drew his first breaths. When he was cleaned and handed to his mother, Abish sank to the floor, exhausted and hungry. She fell into a deep sleep.


She dreamed of weddings: hundreds of Ammonite women paraded past her dressed splendidly to meet their bridegrooms, all of whom seemed to be Lamanite soldiers. Her brother included. The women were of all ages, and Abish recognized many of them. The procession was glorious and there was talking and laughter and joy. As she looked closer, she realized that most of the women were holding babies—all boys.

When Abish awoke she was disoriented. It took her a moment to get her bearings. She was in the palace, in her very own bedroom. For several seconds she looked at the ceiling wondering if the events of recent days had merely been a dream. Then she heard a baby cry. A young baby, almost like a cat. Zaria’s baby. She also realized that her clothes were filthy and stinking. The emptiness in her stomach made her ache and the horrors she’d seen suddenly rushed back.

She sat up slowly, trying to clear her head of sleep and wondering how long she had slept. How long since she had collapsed on the floor of the room where the baby was born? And who had brought her here? The baby’s cries subsided almost as soon as they had begun; undoubtedly, a nurse had been found.

Abish knew she still had many responsibilities. She knew that she should get something quick to eat and go straight back to work, but she also knew that more than anything in the world, at that moment, she wanted a bath. Casting aside everything that told her the extravagance was too much, she headed to the kitchen to draw and heat the water herself.

By the time she sunk into her half full, tepid tub, she was shaking from the effort of hauling the water from the kitchen, but she relaxed almost immediately, savoring the delicious feel of the water working at the grime pasted to her skin. Even in her weakness, she scrubbed and scrubbed until the water was dark and her skin was nearly red. She hugged the thick towel around herself as she came out of the tub, consciously grateful that her body was still her own and that she was alive. A glimmer of peace seeped into her soul and though she knew many more tears would be shed before she felt healed, maybe she would be happy again.

Willing herself to get dressed and begin a new day, Abish went in search of the queen. Zaria greeted her warmly, but stayed in bed. “How are you my friend?”

“Hungry.”

Zaria laughed lightly, but the laughter did not touch her eyes. “I’m sure. Little Lamoni was born early yesterday morning. You have slept more than a full day.”

“And how is baby?”

“Hungry.”

It was Abish’s turn to laugh, and it felt good. A baby born early sometimes failed to thrive because it was so exhausting to eat. They would fall asleep every time they tried. Hungry was a good sign. It meant that he would fight. All of this flashed through Abish’s mind as she excused herself to find some food. As she walked into the main room she thought of the laughter she had just shared with her friend. It was the first time in weeks that it had been true laughter, momentary joy with no trace of bitterness or sarcasm. The conversion of thousands of soldiers, being reunited with her brother and Zaria’s healthy baby were all momentous and wonderful events. But maybe the real miracle was the change she felt at that moment in her heart. If her heart could heal, maybe the others could too. She stopped abruptly in the hallway to take a moment to thank her Father in Heaven for the birth of Lamoni’s son.

Chapter 22: Preparation for War

“I can’t see why they don’t just write to the Nephites and seek asylum. I know it would be a lot of pride to swallow, but the situation here is getting intolerable.” Abish said to the queen as she played a clapping game with Sariah. Abish had been gone for several weeks into the land of Midian. She had gone there to deliver a baby and decided she would try to find her mother while she was at it. It had taken many years to decide that she even wanted to try. She and Zaria had not spoken of the results of Abish’s trip yet; it was plain to see that heavy things weighed on the queen’s mind.

The church was in its ninth year now in the lands of Nephi and while new converts weren’t as frequent as they once had been, the list of enemies seemed to grow daily. Believers had flocked to the cities of Ishamel, Midian and Middoni—the more western parts of the land where it was safer. The problem was the city still the most resistant to any missionary work was Jerusalem, right in the center of all Lamanite holdings. The city still recognized King Lamoni-hah as their leader, but the status quo wouldn’t last much longer. Most of Lamoni’s family had been converted to the gospel and when his father passed, Abish did not think the Amulonites, Amelekites and unconverted Lamanites would not allow a peaceful transition to one of the converted kings.

The problem of these refugees was weighing heavily on Zaria. She turned from her window with a sigh, “I think going to Nephite lands is for the best too, but Lamoni and the other kings seem very reluctant.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Lamoni told me, not long ago, that he believes migrating to the Nephites will be our ultimate destiny, but he believes the work is not done here. Neither do Ammon or his brothers. Just three weeks ago Ammon said at dinner, ‘The Lord tells me there is to be one more round of converts.’ He had that look about him that he gets sometimes; it is just something you don’t argue with, you know?”

Abish nodded, she knew that look well, though it had been some months since she had spoken with Ammon. He was always busy. She missed the spontaneous way he used to follow her to her night visits, and couldn’t remember the last time his strong hands had been there to give a blessing of healing or comfort or strength. It was true that Himni still made a point of seeking her out and often accompanied her when he was in the city. She had come to depend on his steady and compassionate presence almost as much as she enjoyed Ammon’s charm and vivacity. Lately, there had been times she had wondered if he . . . “Aunt Abish! Pay attention!” Sariah chided, as only a nine year-old could.

“I’m sorry, Princess. I’ll try harder.” Abish said rather absently, but did make a note of concentrating harder on the next round.

A few minutes later, Sariah became bored and scooted off to other amusements. Abish sat near the queen. “You have much to worry about these days, my friend.”

Zaria managed a wan smile, “I do indeed, but it shouldn’t make me too busy to talk to you about what is really on your mind. Now, tell me about your search for your mother.”

Abish began slowly as she told her story. She willed the words to come out, knowing she had skipped her unpacking for the very purpose of seeing her friend, yet at the same time reluctant to tell the truth. Abish described looking for her mother, and how difficult such a thing was. Finally, on nearly the last day she had given herself to look, she found a lead. It took Abish to her aunt, who was very elderly. “She looked vaguely like my mother, although my memory there is probably not very accurate either. I asked her where my mother was living.”

“And what did she say?”

“She died. Less than a year ago.”

“Oh Abish.” Zaria’s eyes were pained, but Abish was just empty inside. She had shed many of her own tears in the last several days.

“She had joined the church. My aunt said that she had changed a lot in recent years—that the gospel had been good to her. She never stopped believing I was alive. When she joined the church, she recognized the message of my father’s she had rejected so many years before and regretted deeply the choices she made that week.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I took me so long to forgive her. I waited because I didn’t want to hate her when I stood before her again. And now it is too late. I will never even know her—not who she became.”

“Not in this life you won’t. We all make mistakes, don’t we? I think God will let us work through some of those in the eternities. Maybe, even now, she is up there with your father, and all bad feeling between them has passed.” The tears she didn’t think were left welled up again at Zaria’s tender words, and she nodded numbly. She had spent many days hoping for that very thing. There was silence for a few moments and then Zaria said, “Did your aunt know anything of your siblings?”

“No. Years ago my mother tried to contact my sister, but no luck. The last she knew is that she had moved far away, into the city of Helam.”

“Not good.”

“No kidding.” Helam had become one of the most antagonistic cities. They were right on the border with the Nephites and absorbed lots of dissenters. They were one of the cities thought to be in collusion with Jerusalem against the Anti-Nephi-Lehies. “And my brother was in contact with my mother until she became an adherent to the gospel. He cut off all contact with her. The last my aunt knew, he was in Shilom.” Shilom wasn’t much better, as it lay between Helam and Jerusalem. Most of the converts from that city had fled to Midian. Abish nodded, “And I, the one she always disliked, could have been her greatest source of comfort in her old age. Just like all of our ancestors who’ve ever lived in this land, I too will pay the price for my pride. Now I am truly alone.”

Zaria said nothing, just embraced her. She knew what it was to spend a lifetime separated from family, who were more like strangers than part of your past. “You have us.”

Abish nodded, “I appreciate that. The last couple of weeks have taught me just how much I have to learn.” She sighed, “I also lost two babies in Midian, and one mother.”

“A difficult trip.”

“The worst I have had in a long time. I probably should go now. A good rest is what I need.”

Zaria smiled, “But I know you and that is probably the last thing you will get.” Abish smiled wanly, gathered her few belongings and stood to go. As she was leaving, Zaria said, “What I would really wish for you, friend, was that after a long journey there was someone to go home to.”

Abish nodded slowly, “You know, today I really wish the same thing. But I have to live in this reality, and remind myself that it isn’t a bad life, it is just . . .”

“Incomplete?”

“At times.” Zaria nodded understandingly. She had been praying for another child for many, many years, but none had come. She watched as Sariah grew up, essentially alone with only step-siblings many years her senior, and her heart ached. By this time in her life, she had hoped to be surrounded by children. And although he loved her too much to say it, Abish knew Lamoni wanted the same, particularly an heir. Abish read all this in her friend’s eyes and the women embraced, not needing to say more.


Months later, a council of kings over the Anti-Nephi-Lehies was called. The gathering was held at Lamoni’s palace, and although it had been many years since she had worked there, Abish volunteered to help. There was much to be done. The first several days were full of feasting and festivities. It was, after all, a family reunion for Lamoni. Many wives and children had traveled with these men, even though the chief object was business. The palace was filled to overflowing.

Ammon and his brothers also sat in the council, though they would only advise and not vote. Abish was not allowed into the chambers, of course, but the palace was rife with gossip, and within minutes of any break in the meeting the rumors flew. Abish ignored it; she knew if there was anything important then Zaria would tell her.

The old king also came to the meeting as well. With her healer’s eyes, Abish could see he was in poor health, and privately wondered at the wisdom of the journey. Still, he did seem genuinely happy to be in the company of his sons. Abish had taken time from one of her busy days to sit in the queen’s garden she had always loved so much. It looked like it might rain later in the afternoon and it was a cool day. She took advantage of the break in the weather to enjoy some quiet.

As she walked, she was startled to see Aaron. She had thought herself alone. Besides, she had lately begun to think of Ammon and his brothers as a unit, they were so often together. He apologized for intruding on her solitude. She waved off his apology, “It is good to see a familiar face among so many unfamiliar ones in this city as of late.”

His smile flashed, as brilliant as only the sons of Mosiah could smile. “It is true. We travel so much and meet so many people, they all run together. It is good to take time to converse with those who were here in the beginning.”

Abish nodded and said, “No meetings today?”

“Yes, but we took a break to eat. I feel like all we have done for a week is sit and eat, sit and eat; I begged off this meal to get some fresh air.”

“Not a bad idea. It is nice out here this morning.”

“Yes.” They walked in companionable silence for several more minutes. Abish could see there was something on Aaron’s mind, and she wondered if she would press. It soon became apparent she would not need to. “No doubt you’ll hear later in the day anyway, but unless you hear it from somebody who was there, you might not believe it.”

“What happened?”

“Lamoni-hah is dying. He has conferred the kingship to Antiomno. Apparently, there is an old Lamanite tradition that when this happens, the king takes a new name. Antiomno will now be known as Anti-Nephi-Lehi.”

Abish marveled, “Who would have thought that the king of Middoni would one day lead this people with the name of a convert?”

Aaron smiled, “Not I. If Ammon had been just a couple of hours later that day to Middoni, this whole thing would have gone very differently for me.”

Abish laughed, “I had nearly forgotten, but I’m sure you never will.”

“It is amazing the goodness that grows among people after their hearts change.”

“Yes.” There was silence again for a few minutes. “I bet Zaria is glad Lamoni was not named.”

“I am sure. The new king will have a very difficult situation on his hands.”

“It is not a job anyone would envy. Do you think Antiomno is up to the task?”

Aaron shrugged. “Nobody knows; the situation grows more and more unbearable all the time. I don’t know if anybody is up to the task. It is in God’s hands now.”

“Will any decisions be made this week?”

“I think not. The threat is vague, although with a new king it could get more specific very fast. This council will meet again in six months, or sooner if Lamoni-hah dies and our enemies become bold.”

“What can be done?” Abish stopped and looked Aaron fully in the face.

Aaron looked at her for a long moment. “I don’t know. But I think . . .” he trailed off, unsure if he should say more, but finished anyway, “I think these men will be reluctant to take up arms, even against their enemies. These are men who committed unspeakable horrors before their conversions. They see every minute of their lives right now as the greatest second chance of all time. They are terrified of jeopardizing their salvation.”

Abish’s thoughts raced, “So what will that mean?”

Aaron shook his head, “I don’t know, my lady, I don’t know.”

After a pause, Abish said, “It is in God’s hands now.” Abish’s words were said with more resignation than faith, but Aaron didn’t pick up on her tone and just nodded. Minutes later he returned for afternoon meetings, leaving Abish alone in the garden with her thoughts.


Although it seemed the palace was hardly cleared of its guests before the council convened again, it had actually been almost a year. Lamoni’s father lingered in life much longer than expected, and for a time it seemed their enemies would be silent. But when Antiomno was made king, a formal declaration of war came against the Anti-Nephi-Lehies. Despite the king being at Middoni, the threat was directed at Ishmael. It was closest to Jerusalem, the largest city, and the heart of those who believed in Christ. It was unknown when the attack would come, but the kings convened anyway in Ishmael to make some definite decisions. Abish again stepped in to help, not so much because it was needed this time—the group was smaller and more serious, families having been left at home—but because Zaria had begged Abish to move back into the palace. Abish acquiesced with little argument. She knew that it would be safer; and, with the refugees in the city, her comfortable house could be given to two families. She had her few possessions sent to the palace and said goodbye to the small home where she had learned to be self-reliant, to be herself.

After moving into the palace, she learned the real reason Zaria had wanted her to come. She was with child. She had hidden it well from Abish whose practiced eye told her that Zaria was probably only four months from delivery. Zaria needed her friend’s calming influence to keep the baby from coming early.

The whole palace, the whole city, was tense with waiting for the council’s decision. The meetings were closed and secret. Even Zaria had no idea what went on in those chambers. All Abish had to go on was what Aaron had told her the year before. From the grim looks on the faces of the men involved, she knew it could not be good. Himni and Ammon both avoided her eyes completely when she tried to look at them. What was happening?

On the fourth day of meetings, Abish went to bed, but sleep eluded her for a long time until she finally fell into fitful and disjointed dreams. She saw the beautiful courtyard and gardens behind Lamoni’s house littered with dead and dying people. She seemed to be the only one well as she walked from body to body with a single tiny rag to mop up all the blood. She screamed continually for help or water or anything to stop the bleeding, but no one came. She was alone in a sea of death.

She awoke to the vague memory of a horrible nightmare and heard crying. She immediately rushed into Zaria’s chamber. The queen sat on the edge of her bed, sobbing. She was all alone. “Zaria?” Abish said softly to not startle her friend. She turned suddenly and Abish could see that the tears were not fresh. “What has happened?” Abish was in shock to see her friend in such an emotional state.

“The council has decided.”

Abish’s heart sunk. “Oh?”

“They have made many grand speeches and borne solemn testimony and they have decided they will risk death rather than take up arms against their brothers. In fact, today there will be a great show of the burial of weapons as a covenant to God that they are new creatures, that they will never again be the instruments of death.” She spat the words out bitterly through her tears.

Abish’s dream suddenly came back to her vividly as a vision of what would be. “We must flee the city.”

Zaria shook her head. “No. They will not. They will march to the plain, unarmed, when the army comes, and bow themselves before God and leave the rest in His hands.”

“This is madness,” Abish whispered. She felt exactly as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on her head.

“Oh, Abish, how can women have faith when men make such decisions?” Abish sat down hard on the bed next to her and absently patted the queen’s arm, too numb to shed tears of her own. Even as the queen’s tears flowed, unabated, Abish knew her friend would somehow pull herself together to appear at her husband’s side that morning as he made his announcement. And while she might privately speak to her husband of the decision and plead for understanding, publicly she would never disagree with him.

But Abish wasn’t a queen; she could disagree. Ammon. She had to find Ammon. Surely, if there was one person who could be made to understand—one person with any power she had some pull with—it was Ammon. She hardly knew where to look and so she counted herself lucky when she found him just outside the servants’ quarters.

“Hello, Abish.” His tone was pleasant enough, but she was struck by something in his eyes she hadn’t seen before—a world weariness, a tiredness. As she looked at him closely, she realized it had been some time since she had been in such close proximity to him. The years were finally taken their toll: Ammon was no longer a young man.

“Ammon! I was looking for you; I must speak to you about something.”

The urgency in her tone was impossible to disguise and Ammon, ever the one with quick discernment, said, “Queen Zaria has told you of the Council’s decision.” His tone was resigned and the weariness surrounding him became more pronounced.

“This cannot happen; surely you must see the folly of their decision.”

Instantly some of the fire was back. “Folly?”

“Have they even considered what will happen if God chooses not to intervene? What will become of the women and children left in the city when their men are slaughtered out there?”

“Maybe God will intervene.”

Abish looked closely at him. “I have heard you prophesy many times, Ammon. But at this moment, your words are said with no conviction. God has given no promise.”

His anguish was powerful and emotion clogged his voice, “Am I always to know what God will do? You are no different than they are! All week they have spoken of their unwillingness to lift a weapon ever again. And time and again, they would look to my brothers and I for some sign, some affirmation, that God would protect them. But there was nothing! No impression, no indication.”

“Then how can they believe what they are doing is right?”

“I didn’t say we had no reassurance about that.

“What?”

“The decision to not take up arms has been fasted and prayed about by some of the most faithful and spiritual men I have ever known, and their hearts tell them it is the right thing to do. That doesn’t mean they may not give up their lives to keep their commitment.”

“Then they mustn’t do it.”

“You cannot know the depravity some of these men have given up. I believe, as they do, that their very souls will be in jeopardy if they even consider a fight.”

Abish was shocked into raising her voice to a near shout, “I cannot know the depravity! You, Prince, speak of something you have only heard about. Did you watch your father brutally murdered to appease a pagan god when you were a child? You have no idea what monstrosities evil men are capable of. The men who sold me into slavery, raped the next girl they kidnapped. They didn’t take me because I was too young and awkward. I will never forget the look on that girl’s face or the horror I felt seeing the bruises covering her thighs and arms.”

Abish paused for breath and she knew she was hurting Ammon but she didn’t care. His eyes were filled with tears and she pushed on, “I have been in the homes of these people too. I have seen what a man with no conversion and no conscience can do to a woman. Just three weeks ago, I was delivering a baby in a home where a father, heavy with wine, burst into the room, just as a girl baby was pulled from a weeping mother. He slapped the infant across the face before her cord was even cut. He had wanted a boy. The girl’s neck was twisted in such a way that I don’t know if she’ll ever be normal. Just last night I delivered an unmarried girl who could not have been more than twelve years old. From the way her father hovered, there is no question he is more closely related to her newborn son than any grandfather should be.”

“Stop, Abish.”

“Stop!? How dare you tell me that I do not understand the depravity these men have given up? I have seen it. I know it, firsthand. Shirking the responsibility to fight will loose that depravity on this city—on these women, and their children. If you think merely facing death is cause for fear, then pause for one minute to think of the fear that will reign in these homes. Losing a husband is nothing compared to everything else that will surely be taken. You want me to stop? Have these men stopped to think?”

Ammon’s nearly hissed, “Of course they have! Do you think they haven’t lain awake nights pleading with the Lord to soften the hearts of their enemies? To help them find a way to break this terrible news to their wives? How can you suggest the women have been forgotten?”

“My father made his choice to follow the Lord with little question of what would happen to my mother and I.”

“It has worked out all right for you.”

“I was lucky.”

“You were blessed.” Ammon insisted.

Abish could not deny it. “I was blessed, but I think this situation is different. And in my father’s case; I chose to stay behind and watch him die. These women here will have no choice, no where to flee that is not in harm’s way.”

“All I can tell you is to pray for faith. There is nothing I can do to affect the decision. Lamoni is already on his way to the square to make his announcement.”

“Then go, run, stop him. He will listen to you.”

“Abish, how can I help you see that I have no wish to stop him?” He reached his hand out and placed it on her arm.

She gripped his arms too, “How can you? How can you do this? How can you understand without a wife to love and children of your own? If any man who buries a weapon out there today ever really loved a wife or daughter, how can he not stand to defend them?” She knew there was no logic that could stand up to his faith, so she pleaded instead, trying desperately to appeal to his emotions.

Instead, his face became immediately impassive and his voice went very low, “It is a cruel woman indeed who uses a man’s love against him at such a time.”

Abish recoiled as if she’d been slapped. She could say nothing, and Ammon swept past her in the hall on the way to the outside of the palace. He would go to the square and stand shoulder to shoulder with his friend and with the other men who would make the most important covenant of their lives. The women would be left outside the circle to watch as their hope for the future was buried as surely as the weapons.

She could not go; she fled to her room, numb and sick at heart. The queen was gone. Abish hit her knees, but no words would come. Even when they did, several minutes later, they were angry. She could find no comfort and no answers.

Chapter 21: Religious Freedom in Seven Lands

Falana birthed a healthy and beautiful son after a difficult labor. Abish stayed on for many weeks, hovering anxiously over each roll of fat the baby gained and any discomfort the princess might express. To Abish’s great delight, Falana hardly let the little man leave her side and the new prince’s nurse had very little to do but sit and wait for Falana to eat or bathe.

Though she still missed Ammon himself, his brothers were a welcome addition to her limited circle of friends in Nephi and the baptisms numbered in the hundreds before it was time for her to leave. Once again, she enjoyed being involved in the work of the Lord, and became almost as happy as she had in the land of Ishamel.

A few days before her departure, King Lamoni-hah declared religious freedom in all Lamanite lands. Missionaries would soon have free passage anywhere they wanted to go. Care would still have to be taken in the wilder and more hostile parts of the land, but the Church was now free to grow. Abish was no prophetess, but her heart burned every time she thought about future possibilities.

Finally, after many months away, she said her goodbyes and turned her eyes homeward. Despite the long journey, the men who accompanied her were cheerful as they spoke of wives and sweethearts. Abish carried messages for Ammon. She was anxious to see him again, too anxious. She hoped their meeting would not fan the flames of her initial attraction to him. He was focused on his work and undoubtedly saw her as nothing more than a good friend. After all, weren’t his brothers both shocked to see how young she was? Whatever Ammon had said about her, it was nothing to make them think she was a potential wife.


After some days of travel, the landscape became familiar. Abish had delivered babies this far from the city and knew they were only within a day or two of the palace. The next day, the group decided to press on quickly and arrive late at night. Their late arrival meant there was no one to receive them. Abish was mildly disappointed, but told the men to join her for a late supper in the kitchen when the animals were put away. They heartily agreed.

As expected, there was plenty of food stocked in Lamoni’s house. Her hastily prepared meal would be simple, but filling. She heated water on the hearth for strong tea, cut and wrapped a large squash in corn husks to roast in the covered embers from the day’s cooking. She began rolling out corn cakes for frying and was humming to herself when she heard someone enter the kitchen. Rather than turning, she said, “Just sit anywhere. The food will be ready in a few minutes.” Abish continued her soft humming but worked with greater speed. She was surprised at the efficiency with which the animals had been put away. After a few minutes, she realized that nobody else had joined the first, or if they had they were very quiet and unconversant. She turned to see how many were there and cried out in surprise.

The man at the table looked equally surprised and stammered, “You said to sit—so I did.”

He had to be the fourth brother. In many ways he was so like Ammon it was uncanny. His hair and skin were nearly exactly the same color as his older brother’s. His features were the same too, but more guarded. His eyes were equally intense, but not blue. Or were they? There was something strange about them she couldn’t quite put her finger on, and it was hard to tell because he didn’t look at her directly.

Realizing she was staring, Abish stammered back, “You must be Himni.” The heart, Ammon had called him.

He bowed his head, “I am.”

“I am Abish.”

He nodded and even in the dim light she could see him blush, “You’re younger than I had expected.”

Abish couldn’t help but laugh right out loud, “I get a lot of that.”

Himni smiled and in that brief moment he looked almost exactly like Ammon, except for the way he held his head cocked slightly. The moment passed quickly and she could see that his smiles were rarer than his brother’s. “The queen thought you would arrive tomorrow.” He said.

“We pressed ahead. We’ve only been in just a few minutes—too late to wake anybody, but too early to go to bed hungry.”

“You are cooking for more than yourself,” he observed.

“Yes, my escort has kept a diligent pace these many days and we are all hungry.”

“Surely there are servants who can help . . .”

Abish smiled, “But since being converted the gospel, Lamoni gave all of his slaves their freedom and only a few stayed behind as hired help. So really, there is no one. Besides, like all Lamanite girls I have been doing this kind of work since I was a small child. This is second nature.”

“Like delivering babies?” He raised his eyebrows; she wasn’t sure he was teasing or not, but his remark struck her as funny and she laughed again.

“I wish delivering babies was as easy as making corn cakes!” As she said this, she handed him a plate of hot ones. She liked the way he devoured the stack, and turned away while he ate.

She continued working, trying to estimate how much food she’d need for eight, no nine, hungry men. Himni interrupted her counting, “I have often marveled at the multitude of skills women possess.”

“How so?”

He waved his hand in the air, “Men hunt or grow crops and argue over how to run kingdoms. I sometimes think they should ask the ones who know how to do everything else the best way that it should be done.”

Abish laughed again. She didn’t know why. His comments were sincere and kind, not funny, but she felt relaxed and happy around him. “Perhaps that is so, Himni, but since it is not a question we can ever answer tonight, would you like more food?”

“That would be excellent, actually.” She loaded his plate as he added, “I couldn’t sleep tonight; we have lived out of doors for so long that this easy palace living is making me soft and restless. As I wandered the halls tonight I smelled something wonderful and decided to follow my nose.” He bit into another stack of her corn cakes and said as he swallowed, “Is that tea ready?”

She smiled brightly, “Just now.”

As she said these words, the others filled the room. Abish quickly introduced Himni to the soldiers and, seeing there was plenty for everyone to eat, dismissed herself wordlessly. Despite the recently relaxed protocol as of late, it still was not seemly or comfortable to eat with a large group of men. Besides, she felt the odd sense that her pleasant conversation with Himni had been somehow ruined, for all that she knew the others better. She slipped out quietly, turning to look into the kitchen as she walked out the door, thinking to see Himni’s back. Instead, he was looking at her directly with his strange eyes. There was no expression on his face, but he flushed and turned quickly away when she caught him looking.


It was well after midnight when Abish finally went to bed and sleep came immediately. She found herself in the middle of a very odd dream. She was walking through the woods when she approached two pools of water. Without hesitation she dove, clothing and all, into the first though it seemed almost muddy in appearance. As she dove, she realized the pond wasn’t actually brown, and there seemed to be a light radiating from the bottom, which gave the pond a kind of an amber color. Swimming in the pond filled her with inexplicable energy and joy that pulsated through her whole body. Just as she adjusted to this new, heightened awareness, she climbed from the pool and dove into the second. Again, as she swam, she realized the pond wasn’t brown at all, but actually green, although she couldn’t tell the source of it. This second pond gave her an overwhelming feeling of peace and relaxation. She closed her eyes and sank under the cool water.

She awoke suddenly, with a start, gasping for breath. She couldn’t erase the vividness of the dream from her consciousness. She tried to sleep again, but was too agitated. She stood and splashed water on her face, trying to make sense of it. Since her baptism, she had often dreamed of water, but never like this. She rubbed her eyes for a moment, and as she did so, she felt the flush spread through her face. The reason Himni’s direct gaze had so disconcerted her was suddenly apparent—his eyes were exactly the same color as the ponds she’d been swimming in.


Abish greatly enjoyed the independence of her new life as she moved into a small home not far from the palace. As the missionary work spread, her circle of friends broadened. Over the next couple of years, Ammon and his brothers came and went as they preached in the seven lands. Jerusalem was the eighth, but there were no converts there. If anything, hostilities increased. Zaria ruefully joked that she was the only Amalekite who would ever be converted. Still, she didn’t seem too sorry to put distance between herself and her family. Despite the love she and Lamoni now shared, she could never quite forget that her father had given her to a man he knew nothing about merely to seal a political alliance.

The kings in the faithful lands organized a council that met regularly. They decided to begin calling themselves, officially, the Anti-Nephi-Lehies in order to separate themselves from their more bloodthirsty relatives. The people, however, often referred to themselves as the Ammonites. Abish knew the name made her friend uncomfortable, and he was glad they had officially decided on something else, even if it was seldom used.

As grateful as Abish was to no longer be considered a Lamanite, she knew such a move would anger those who were hostile to them. In addition, correspondence had been opened with the Nephites. Ammon’s old friend, Alma, was the head of their government there, and he explained in a letter that a new group had risen up and had broken away from the Nephites. They called themselves Amlicites and marked themselves red on the forehead to distinguish themselves from Nephites. It was feared they had opened negotiations with the hostile Lamanites. Abish was aware of all of this. She knew it worried Lamoni a great deal, but such dealings seemed far removed from the happy, peaceful life she knew during those years in Ishmael.

And so, for a long time, the adventures in Abish’s life seemed to be at an end. The sons of Mosiah became famous through the land until those early events surrounding their coming almost became the stuff of legend. Though they were very busy and often far away, when they were in Lamoni’s city, Abish would occasionally have the companionship of Ammon on her night visits. Himni, Ammon’s near-constant companion, would come too and hover near the margins, anxious to help and listen while his elder brother ministered and spoke. Abish couldn’t deny that births went better when this splendid pair of missionaries came with her. Ammon’s energy was boundless and Himni brought a spirit of love and compassion to each visit.

Abish looked forward to her rare times with Ammon more than she’d dared express to anyone, even her closest friends. But talk had begun. The women in the palace and the marketplace whispered that Ammon and his handsome brothers could not stay single forever. Didn’t it seem that they would stay in this land always? They must marry. Abish heard these things and kept very quiet. She had been there the day Ammon as good as pledged a lifetime of service to Lamoni. Still, the women had a point; surely God didn’t intend for these righteous men to stay single for the rest of their lives.

Abish’s twentieth birthday came after a three-day stint of delivering babies non-stop. She’d had little time to reflect on the tenth anniversary of the time her life changed for good, but took a moment to remember the significant details from that week in her life. Twenty also gave her great pause. She’d never met a Lamanite woman married in her twenties before. At least not a first marriage. As she swaddled her fifth new baby in three days, she couldn’t help thinking she would never do this for her own babies. The thought made her despondent and despite her exhaustion, she spent some time in prayer before trying to sleep when she returned to her home. The desired peace didn’t come. When she lay down, all she could think is that Ammon had gone away again, for at least two months, to meet with Lamoni’s father and some of the priesthood in the Land of Nephi. She stilled her breaths, willing the image of his handsome face from her mind.

There was a clap at the door. Surprised, Abish rose to see Himni waiting at the entrance to her home. He generally always followed Ammon on his journeys, long or short. She smiled broadly at him. He seemed nervous, perhaps because he was by himself, though they had shared many wonderful conversations together, “Yes, Himni?”

“I know you have delivered many babies these past days, and I’m sorry to disturb you.”

She wasn’t sure how he knew this, but said, “That is no matter. What do you need?”

“One of Lamoni’s household needs you.”

“Tika?” He nodded, and Abish frowned. Tika was early and had not been doing well the last couple of weeks. Abish had feared something like this. She sighed, “I will come as soon as possible. I just need to gather a few things.”

“I’ll wait.”

She prepared quickly and Himni offered to carry her basket of things. She carried a second, smaller one. There were things she had for the queen and would take advantage of the extra set of arms. They said little as they hurried toward the palace, though the silence was not uncomfortable.

Himni looked at her sideways, “Everything is a little duller without Ammon around.”

Abish laughed, “Yes, perhaps it is.”

There was more silence and Himni cleared his throat before announcing. “Omner is engaged to be married.” Abish stopped in her tracks and dropped her basket, so great was her shock. Himni stopped with her and bent over to help her recover the items that had fallen into the road. He quickly gathered them and took her basket on top of the larger one he carried. Abish flushed, murmured her thanks and stood. Himni looked mildly distressed, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, of course not . . . I just . . .” Abish trailed off, not knowing what to say.

“I’m sure it will come as a shock to many. We ourselves were not sure if such a thing would happen, but we have been in this land many years.”

“And may stay many years yet.”

“Exactly. We are beginning to feel less and less like foreigners. Perhaps it is time to settle.”

Abish fought for calm and tried to sound casual, “So are you or your other brothers thinking of settling?”

Himni glanced sideways at her again, “There are no plans, as of yet, but Omner’s decision has gotten the rest of us thinking.”

Abish swallowed hard, biting back more questions, particularly those that would be about Ammon. Little more was said for the rest of the trip and Abish hardly noted when Himni left her side with a polite farewell. She told herself to focus on the task ahead and not think about what Omner’s wedding might mean for anyone else but himself.

Omner’s wife was a good and righteous woman named Tisha from the land of Middoni. She was not young, and it was likely that many people had thought she was past a proper marrying age. Abish was immediately impressed with her strength and wisdom. She would be the kind of woman who could work alongside her chosen husband with little complaint or murmuring. On the rare occasions Abish had a chance to observe them, she could see that they said little, but seemed to communicate in a way that was beyond words: understanding one another soul to soul. As she watched Omner over the next months with his new bride, she knew that for all of Ammon’s friendship and their history together, he had never looked at her with such tenderness.

Chapter 20: All His Kingdom

Abish and Zaria anxiously awaited the return of the men, though for different reasons. Zaria carried all the concern of a devoted wife for her husband’s safety; Abish was frustrated over the stagnation she already saw in the Church. The band of converts was trying, but Ammon had only left a small group of priesthood holders in his stead and the organization was tenuous at best. Word had been sent via messenger that Ammon’s brethren had indeed been saved, but they were weak and waiting to travel.

As they waited, an unexpected messenger from Queen Vitria came for Abish. The message summoned her far north, to the land of Nephi were Lamoni spent his childhood. Zaria’s sister-in-law had a baby due in a couple of months. Unlike her brothers, she did not inherit any land and so lived with her husband in her father’s palace. Before sending any reply, Abish sought Zaria’s advice and friendship.

The queen too was incredulous, “Falana is her only daughter. Lamoni has many brothers. I believe this daughter has always been special to Vitria and Lamoni-hah.”

Abish sighed. “It is a long journey. And who knows how long I’ll be there? Surely there must be a midwife in the Land of Nephi.”

The queen laughed, “But not one who has never lost a mother.”

Abish snorted at the ridiculous rumor, “I’ve lost mothers too. And babies.”

“Not many, friend. Sometimes people just need something to believe in.”

“But it isn’t real faith if the thing isn’t true.”

Zaria shrugged, “That might be the case, but a woman in labor will take even false hope if she finds something to hang on to.”

Abish fought the urge to sigh, “I will go.”

“It is probably best. Perhaps you will help to heal the rift I have caused between the house of Lamoni-hah and his son.”

“I think I’ll have better luck delivering a healthy baby!” She laughed.

Zaria laughed too and then suddenly grew somber. “There is one more thing I feel I must tell you so that you know what you are getting into.”

“Oh?”

“This is Falana’s fifth pregnancy, but she has no children. The first she lost after many months, the second was strangled by his cord, the third was a still born, and the fourth died of fever three days after birth.”

Abish felt the color drain from her face and legs weaken slightly. “No pressure.”

“You are the midwife to a queen. There will always be pressure.”


Her journey was uneventful, but her arrival at the palace was not comforting. While unbearable, Abish only had to endure Queen Vitria’s condescension and rudeness in small doses. The real problem was Falana. After just a few days, Abish feared that two more months of Falana’s near hysterics would put her over the edge. She could see that the only approach was to be completely in charge, so she organized Falana’s room and immediately put her on a soothing regimen of herbs. Drugging her mothers was not her favorite approach, but the princess’s stress would certainly bring her labor early, a thing that would likely spell disaster for mother and baby, and, Abish had to admit ruefully, herself.

Abish’s life was little better than a slave in the land of Nephi. She was not allowed to leave Falana’s side for more than a couple of hours at a time. The only other babies she delivered were of noble women who were brought to the palace. Abish missed working with the common women that had become such an integral part of the work she normally did. While she was better paid for her work in Nephi, she was dismayed to see how frequently the babies were passed off with disdain to nurses before mothers even held them.

The one redeeming bright spot in all these weeks, was that once Abish was able to soothe many of Falana’s fears, she could see that Lamoni’s sister actually wanted to have children. She had always enjoyed growing up with her many brothers and cousins and wanted the same for her children. As Abish came to know her, she saw that, like Lamoni, she was fair-minded and treated those around her with fairness. Abish learned that Falana was sorrowful over the recent estrangement between her father’s and Lamoni’s houses.

Then one day she learned something that gave her greater interest than anything that had happened so far in the Land of Nephi. One of Falana’s servants brought the breathless news. “Princess, some Nephites have come to the palace.”

Abish’s ears pricked almost immediately. Had Ammon and Lamoni finally made the journey? Falana replied, “Is my brother with them?”

She shook her head, “No ma’am. In fact, your father seemed displeased about that. And these Nephites are not the same as the one your father met.”

“There are more of them?”

Abish cleared her throat, “I believe, your highness, that some of these men may be the brothers of Ammon—the one your father met.”

The princess turned to Abish, “Do you know these men?”

“I have never met them. I only know what Ammon told me of them.”

The Princess nodded, “Then you must go and find out why they have come.”


Abish complied, knowing that she had really been given a directive. As awkward as she felt the task to be, she had to admit that she was very curious about them herself and that it would be a good diversion.


She made her way through the unfamiliar palace and was given passage into the King’s chamber where many were gathered. A tall man was standing near the center of the room, preaching. He didn’t look like Ammon: his hair was darker but his skin fairer. Still, there was something about the quality of his voice that was much like Ammon’s, though it didn’t carry such intensity. Like Ammon, the speaker was a very capable preacher. Her attention wandered to his companions. There was another that looked much like the man who was preaching, but with bluer eyes. There were other Nephites there, but she could detect no similarity. It seemed one of Ammon’s brothers, she had no idea which, had gone back to Ishmael with Ammon.

Her eyes wandered back to the speaker and she listened to him for several minutes. Could this be Aaron? He seemed older than the other brother and he certainly had a commanding presence. Aaron was the leader, Ammon had said. This man was handsome and tall and strong. And though he lacked Ammon’s inner fire, he certainly held the crowd captive with his words and gestures.

Suddenly, the King interrupted, proclaiming a desire to have a change of heart and pledging his entire earthly kingdom if only he could receive the joy his preacher had promised. As he explained to Lamoni-hah about prayer, a remarkable thought occurred to Abish. Hadn’t Vitria said that her husband had pledged half his kingdom to preserve his life? And now, here he was, pledging his whole kingdom if only salvation might be his.

The king knelt. Abish had seldom heard a thing as beautiful as King Lamoni-hah telling the Lord that he “would give away all his sins to know Him.” The sins of a Lamanite king were legion. Tears came to Abish’s eyes as she thought on her own sacrifices and trials in exchange for knowing God. She hoped Lamoni’s father would find what he was seeking, and that he indeed would know, in the end, it was worth it.

Just as his prayer ended, Lamoni-hah passed out, as completely as his son had done all those months before. As the court around her erupted in complete pandemonium, Abish stayed rooted to her spot, knowing only that Vitria would not take this state of affairs as well as Zaria had done.

Abish’s inaction only lasted until she saw several servants flee the room, undoubtedly they had gone to tell their queen of these strange events. Abish pushed her way through the crowd until she saw the brother who had not spoken off to one side. She approached him, “Are you the brother of Ammon?”

“I am Omner. And yes, Ammon is my brother.”

“I was a servant to Lamoni’s wife when this very thing happened to him.” She didn’t pause to see the recognition that flashed across his face. “The queen will not take this well. I would not be surprised if even at this moment she is sending someone to kill you.”

“We are here on the Lord’s errand. My brethren and I were sent to see this king at this time. He will protect us.”

Abish could see the familiar intensity burn in Omner’s eyes and nodded slowly, “I believe you; and I will add my prayers to yours.”

She turned away to fade into the crowd, “Abish!” He called back over the gathering din. She turned inquisitively. How had he known her name? “There is preaching in the Land of Middoni. We left two of our brethren there to organize the work.”

The words hardly registered, “Preaching? In Middoni?”

Omner nodded, happily. “Your father’s life was not in vain.”

“You know then?” Tears smarted in her eyes.

He nodded again, “We will talk when there is more time.”

“Indeed.”

She turned again and was called back one last time, “And Abish?”

“Yes?”

He smiled lightly, with an almost puzzled look around the corners of his eyes, “I expected somebody much older.”

She shrugged and smiled in return, “I am what I am.”

He bowed slightly toward her in a move that made her flush to the roots of her hair, “And this people will be eternally blessed for that.”

Gratefully, Abish was saved any reply because the melee erupted as Queen Vitria swept into the room with a contingent of guards. It was impossible for her to see what was happening with the pushing and the noise. Vitria had obviously given a command her men were reluctant to follow and there was much argument. It seemed they were afraid of the Nephites. Through the crowd, Abish caught a glimpse of the queen’s pale face; she too was afraid. What a contrast to Zaria’s fledgling faith! Vitria finally stopped issuing execution orders, but Abish could see that it was because of superstition, not belief, because she quickly began ordering men to leave the palace to find others to slay them: others who had not witnessed their power.

Abish wondered what would happen next, remembering that day at Lamoni’s palace that she helped orchestrate. It had ended well, but Abish could never forget how she felt when she thought her actions would turn the situation for the worse. She was in no hurry to find anyone to witness this scene.

And then, Aaron spoke in a voice so low Abish had to strain to hear. For a moment, he seemed to glow with some great inner fire and in that instant she saw Ammon’s exact expression run through his features. He stepped past the queen to her husband and stretched out a hand to him. The queen’s shock and horror was evident as Aaron murmured some words and raised her husband to his feet. And just like Lamoni had that day, the King began to preach words so wonderful Abish could hardly contain the song of joy in her heart. After what seemed like hours, she shook herself from her reverie and went to talk to the princess. Falana just might accept the gospel.

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.

Chapter 18--Half His Kingdom

The first few days were awful, but their lives quickly settled into a routine. The queen certainly missed her husband, but she was so busy with the added responsibility of running the city in Lamoni’s absence that she had little time to regret. Abish was equally busy, though with very different tasks. She was now delivering babies all throughout the land of Ishmael and was often away for several days at a time.

Near the end of their third week away, the queen received an unexpected visitor that sent the entire palace into an uproar of preparation-making. Lamoni’s mother herself came for a visit. Queen Vitria was a formidable presence for even a lady as gracious as Zaria.

“I am so glad to see you!” The queen exclaimed when she saw Abish return one afternoon after four days away.

“I heard that you have an important visitor.”

“Yes, and it worries me. The only times I’ve spoken to her without Lamoni present have not gone well. She would only come if there was something very serious on her mind. She doesn’t waste time on frivolities.”

“Maybe she just wants to see the baby.” Abish speculated.

“I think the baby visit is a cover. I think she has learned all that has happened here.”

“Then she is probably livid over Lamoni’s absence.”

“You know, that is the strangest part. I thought she would be. But she seemed to expect it, almost like she knew he wasn’t here.”

“Have you spoken with her yet?”

“Only formally. She just arrived the day before yesterday, but she has requested a meeting with me later today.”

“How can I help?”

“Will you stay with me?”

“Won’t that seem strange, for her to request a private meeting with you, but then you invite me to join you? A stranger for Queen Vitria to meet?” The queen’s cheeks flushed a bright red and she and opened her mouth to speak but no words came. In that moment Abish understood. Her own cheeks grew hot too, but with something more like anger than embarrassment. She kept her voice low, willing herself to be patient until she understood. “I see. You aren’t inviting me to join you; you are inviting me to stand in the corner, mute, as a slave.” Instinctively, Abish fingered her mutilated earlobe. The mark was still painfully obvious to even a casual observer.

“Please hear me out.”

“I’m listening.” Abish sat back in her chair, arms folded.

“She will expect me to have slaves and servants around. If she is carrying a message back to her husband, it may be better for her to see that things are pretty much the same here, at least until Lamoni returns. Besides, then you will hear everything that goes on and you and I can talk about it later. I won’t ask you to do anything for us.”

“You won’t, but she might.”

“Probably not, that would be very irregular.”

Abish chafed under the request, not that it was a difficult thing to do, but only because she hated being treated as a slave again, even in appearance, simply because it was convenient. She remembered telling Lamoni that she would help take care of his wife. She really had asked so little from her in recent months, and Abish did live in their home. The arguments for and against ran through her head and she sighed, “I will do it, but only because you are my friend and I think it will help you.”

The queen’s face relaxed and she smiled, “I am so sorry to ask you to do it, but I think it will be for the best.”

For whom? Abish couldn’t help but think bitterly, but she kept her mouth shut and nodded. She traded her outfit that afternoon for a simpler one and helped the queen dress her hair. Abish chided herself for being so foolish as she helped the queen. This was a task she had always enjoyed before, so she tried to convince herself that she was just helping a friend get ready for an important day instead of only being there because she had no other choice. It almost worked.

Queen Vitria was prompt. She entered the room with a slave of her own and Abish kept her eyes averted, remembering the proper behavior for a slave as she saw the subdued manner that the other woman held her head. Abish and the other woman stood on opposite sides of the room, ready if called, but shadows otherwise.

“We missed you at the celebration months back.”

“We were sorry not to attend; I was very ill after the baby was born.”

The queen’s eyes were sharp as they regarded her daughter-in-law. “Surely Lamoni could have had no part in dealings with women; he could have come alone.”

“Lamoni was loathe to leave me; for a time my midwife feared that I would die.”

“It is a poor midwife who brings a woman and child through delivery only to nearly lose them in the days after.” Abish’s face burned with anger, but she held her tongue.

Zaria’s voice turned slightly cold, “My midwife is the best of women. She seldom loses a mother or a baby, even in the most difficult circumstances. Because of her, Sariah and I both lived.”

The queen’s eyes narrowed, “Yes, I have heard legend of the child-midwife who delivers babies in this quarter of the land of Ishmael.” Abish almost bit her tongue to keep from gasping. How far had her overblown reputation spread?

There was more silence. The queen prompted quietly, “But I know, Mother, that you did not come all this way to discuss my midwife.”

“Indeed I did not. There is something much more pressing on my mind.” The queen raised her eyebrows ever so slightly, encouraging her mother-in-law to continue. “For a few months now, ever since our celebration, Lamoni’s father has heard alarming reports coming from this land, causing him to believe there was more to Lamoni’s absence than just a sick wife. In fact, these reports were so alarming and so patently out of character for our son, that my husband decided a few weeks ago that he would journey to this city in an attempt to discover the source of these rumors.”

“We were never privileged to receive this visit.”

“No you were not. My husband met Lamoni and a very unlikely companion when he was a just a few days on the road.” She snapped.

“You must mean Ammon.” Abish could tell by her tone that her friend was fighting to keep her composure and dignity, and while her voice did not shake, she kept her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

“Is this what your Nephite calls himself?” The queen was haughty.

“Ammon is a Nephite.”

“My husband has given me some of the details from their chance meeting on the road. I was first surprised to learn that they were headed to Middoni, and not to see Lamoni’s father, as should have been proper.”

“They had actually planned on meeting with His Majesty, and were making plans for such a visit when urgent business called them to Middoni.”

“Yes, I heard of this ‘urgent’ business. Apparently there are more of these Nephites who have been imprisoned by Antiomno.”

“Yes.”

“And the Nephite knows this because his god told him?” The haughtiness of her tone had been steadily increasing.

Abish was proud of the way Zaria held her head high and replied, “Yes, your majesty, that is how Ammon knows.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Indeed.” There was a pause. “Well, if by some means of stealth or deception he has learned this information, Antiomno has made the right choice by putting our enemies in prison.”

“Did your husband send you to deliver this message?”

“My husband does not order me about. I am free to come and go as I wish. If he merely wanted a message sent then he would have sent a slave.” There was another pause, this one heavy with waiting. Abish could see her queen wanting to ask the obvious question then—why had she come? Why did it seem that she was not on the king’s errand if these were indeed his feelings? After an uncomfortable interval, the high queen finally got to it. “Where they were going was not the only item of interest to my husband in the course of their meeting.”

“Oh?”

“My husband ordered Lamoni to kill Ammon.”

Abish nearly bit through her tongue to keep from crying out and she saw the blood drain from the queen’s face, “And how did my husband take this command?”

“He refused. In fact, his refusal was so vehement that it angered his father greatly who then attempted to take Lamoni’s life.” The stillness was powerful and the Zaria’s eyes welled with tears. Abish felt her stomach churn with anxiety, but the silence only lasted a moment. “You’ll be grateful to know that your Nephite intervened just then, and while my husband is a powerful man he is no match for a young man who rips the arms off his enemies with his bare hands.”

Abish nearly chuckled with relief and at the latest distortion of Ammon’s strength. The queen’s face finally relaxed also and she said mildly, “I believe he used a sword.”

“Whatever! The point is that my husband had to promise him half his kingdom to make Ammon to let him go.”

Sensing Queen Vitria’s growing discomfort with the direction the meeting between her husband and son had taken, Zaria’s said sardonically, “Ammon hasn’t seemed all that greedy to me. The king should have been more conservative; Ammon probably would have been satisfied with your husband’s promise not to attempt to murder my husband.”

Queen Vitria looked at her sharply and narrowed his eyes again, “You seem to know the Nephite well.”

“I like to think we do.”

“Well, that is exactly what he said! That he would let him go on condition that he would not kill Lamoni.”

The queen’s face softened somewhat, “All in all, your Majesty, doesn’t that seem to have been for the best? Your husband and your son are both well and perhaps they will begin to see eye-to-eye on some things.”

“I don’t want my husband to be minded as Lamoni is regarding Nephite traditions. Your people are not my people.” Abish suddenly saw into the heart of what this was all about. Queen Zaria did look like a Nephite and Vitria seemed to think she was somehow responsible for all that had transpired.

Zaria lowered her voice and said, “In all the years I have been married to Lamoni, I have followed his leadership and learned all I could about his culture, leaving my own behind. Now, under the influence of the true God of Heaven, Lamoni is trying something else. Once again, I am wholeheartedly following my husband.”

Queen Vitria suddenly swept to her feet, “What is it about this Ammon that has you all so bewitched? My husband is acting as crazy as the rest of you!” She dropped her defenses in an instant and suddenly looked more worried than haughty.

Abish fought to keep control of her face, it would not do to have Queen Vitria believe the slaves were listening in. Zaria spoke in low tones, “Your husband was impressed with Ammon then?”

“It is not to be believed how impressed he was! When he saw how much Ammon loved Lamoni, he granted Ammon’s brothers’ clemency. Even Antiomno cannot argue with that, regardless of the charge against his brothers. On top of that, he has given Lamoni absolute control over this land.”

Zaria’s face was no less puzzled than Abish’s own as Queen Vitria explained, “Didn’t you understand, Your Majesty,” this latest was said with much sarcasm, “that Lamoni’s power and policy was contingent on his father’s good grace, but now! Now my out-of-his-head son can do whatever he likes regardless of what my husband thinks. He has made Lamoni a sovereign nation right here in the middle of the Lamanites! He has never allowed this kind of privilege to any of his kings before.”

She could see the queen mulling this over. “So this means that although Lamoni’s kingdom is smaller than his father’s, they are on equal footing?”

Vitria was momentarily taken aback, “Well, yes, I suppose.”

“And that my status is likewise equal to yours.” Now her mother-in-law was really speechless. “I thought so. Thank you for bringing me this news. And now, if our interview is finished, I would be happy to show you back to your rooms; or, if you prefer, my friend Abish can do so.” Here she turned and pointed to where Abish stood, beaming. The word friend had made all the difference.

“Your refer to this slave as your friend?”

“She is not my slave. Lamoni has freed all our slaves.”

“This is scandalous! What has gone on here?”

The queen stood now, to her full height, making her taller than Queen Vitria who suddenly seemed a little bit cowed, “I would be happy to tell you the history of our relationship to the Nephite Ammon, but I would have to ask you to listen very carefully and with an open heart.”

“I have never been so insulted in my entire life! I am unused to being treated in such a manner.”

“Milady, I have no wish to insult you, but our equal status prevents me from having to listen to outlandish criticisms of myself, my husband, or our friends. Again, if you wish to hear the full, true story I am happy to give it to you, but if you have merely come to belittle and gossip, I must insist that our visit be concluded.”

Abish could see that Queen Vitria was unsure whether to argue and risk being put in her place or leave the room, giving her daughter-in-law power over her. She was saved the choice by the Zaria’s deep bow and her own exit from the room. Abish hastily followed her. Her friend swept through the hall, head held high and silent. Even with Abish’s long legs she had to walk very quickly to keep up with her quick pace. When they made it to the queen’s bedroom chamber she shut the door behind her and quickly looked around. Seeing they were alone, she sank to the bed in a fit of relieved laughter.

Abish grinned broadly and the queen said, “That was by far the most indecorous things I’ve ever done as queen. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if I end up paying dearly for it, but oh, it felt good to tell her exactly what was on my mind.”

The great queen was indeed offended. She left first thing the next morning, after requesting one last interview. Abish was the only one present, but she was unable to stay invisible enough to avoid the queen’s disdainful stare. She bowed slightly before the queen and said only, “You and I may officially have equal status, but you are certainly never welcome in my home. That goes for your nasty half-breed child also. Helamoni, Lemuel and Selah are welcome to visit any time they wish; I had no quarrel with their mother. It will, in fact, be good to get them away from this house of zealous Nephite-lovers.”

Much of Zaria’s grace had returned this morning, and Abish was impressed with the way she held her head and kept her countenance, “Is this the message you would have me pass to your son, then, when he returns?”

“I have no faith in your ability to pass on any message to my son; I know that whatever you say to him will place yourself in a perfect light and I will be a monster. So you may say whatever your like to him: I know it will make no difference.” She left the room in a swirl of robes and feathers.

Zaria sighed and leaned on the arm of the chair. She looked very pale and colorless compared to her counterpart who had just left. Abish loved her for it. “My rash words from yesterday can’t make me laugh today. We really need Lamoni’s father on our good side. He was perhaps getting there, but hearing how deeply I’ve offended his wife could turn his mind very easily.”

Abish smiled wanly, “Or perhaps he is not so ignorant of his wife’s nature as to believe outright whatever she may say about this visit.”

Queen Zaria smiled wanly, “I think I cannot see anybody today; I just want to spend the day with Sariah. Today I want to be a mother instead of a queen.”

“A great choice. You are not so busy today, and I’ll have your schedule cleared otherwise.”

“You know that you don’t actually work for me anymore.”

Abish laughed, “I know. Old habits are hard to break. Let’s just say I’m helping as a friend; my own duties are light today.”

The queen stood and sighed, “I’ll be so glad when Lamoni is back.” Abish said nothing as she nodded slightly. Lamoni’s return would definitely be good for the kingdom and for Zaria; Ammon’s return would be good for the church, but what would his return mean for her? Like all the believers in Ishmael, she missed his enthusiasm and his way with words. And in a part of her self she hardly dared acknowledge, she missed his easy charm, handsome face and ready attentiveness.

All of this skimmed across her mind in the silence and Zaria said quietly, “Will you be glad to see Ammon again?’

Abish smiled and put her arm around the queen, “Yes. But whether that means anything significant or not . . .”

“Maybe it’s too early to say.”

Abish nodded, “And he is here on the Lord’s errand. That must come first.”

“Your turn will come, dear. Maybe when you least expect it.” In that moment, the Spirit whispered patience. For many years to come she would remember the peace of that moment and remind herself to just wait.