II.
MORONI RAISES THE STANDARD OF LIBERTY.
Moroni sat in his study bent over a message which read, "Amalickiah has stirred up an insurrection to gain the kingdom," when a young lawyer entered and accosted him. The newcomer had formerly been the general's secretary and an affectionate familiarity existed between them.
"What is it now?" asked Moroni pushing his papers aside, for something in the other's air suggested matters of import.
MORONI RAISES THE STANDARD OF LIBERTY.
"Only this, sir. I found out by accident that there was a meeting of the judges of the lower court called to which I was not bid. I took means to investigate and found that they have all pledged themselves to support Amalickiah as king on the strength of his empty promises to increase their power."
"I was afraid of this," sighed Moroni. His eye traveled to the door whence a young captain entered with angry stride.
The stern young blade was vibrant with vehemence as he saluted and announced, "There is a defection in the army, sir. The soldiers have been stirred up with tales of civil war. The men, spoiling with inaction, hail the idea of a clash with delight. Already they are taking sides. Amalickiah has won over the rougher element with promises of loot."
"What have you done?"
"Put the rebels in irons. But the insurrection is spreading, and I can't imprison the whole army."
"You have done well. Let us hear what Sherum has to say." A servant with disheveled hair, his garments almost torn from his back, and his eyes rolling wildly in his head, had rushed in and thrown himself at the feet of the general.
It was a moment before the panting wretch could get his breath. Between gasps he managed to ejaculate, "The city has gone mad. Howling mobs are blocking the streets. As I returned from the charcoal vender's I ventured to enquire what it was all about. They jeered at me and when I refused to cry, 'Long live King Amalickiah, cuffed me from hand to hand."
Moroni knew enough about the management of men to realize that turbulent conditions require desperate remedies. Unless the revolution was stopped Amalickiah would be swept into office on the flood tide of a riot.
His face darkened. "Was it for this that my people fought the bloody wars with the Lamanites? Resisted the yoke of bondage to become thralls of a Nephite king, because perchance, Amalickiah would have it so?" he muttered bitterly.
"Teancum, go back to the barracks. Order the soldiers to prepare to march and the first one who tries to desert make an example of. Let fly an arrow and shoot him in the back."
Filled with the valor of his emprize, Teancum saluted his chief in silence and strode out.
"Sherum, arise, and bid Horeb bring here my full armor. You," he continued, turning to the lawyer, "go tell the town criers to summon the people to a mass meeting at the palace of justice. Say that Moroni would speak with them."
Tearing off the white cotton mantle that hung from his shoulders he took it over to the longest spear that rested against the wall. Quickly he lashed the white flag to the pole with thongs of buckskin. Then hastily thrusting his brush into the ink pot that stood near, he wrote on the white banner in bold letters, "In memory of our God, our religion and freedom, our peace, our wives, and our children."
Before he had finished his body servant entered bowed under the weight of his harness. With firm, deft touch he encased his master in the glittering metal. First he adjusted the breast plate, and then fastened the heavy armor that shielded the vital organs. He handed his chief his shield dented with the fray of many battles and lastly crowned him with the great helmet which bore on its crest the winged serpent.
He knew that one man could not quell the insurrection. He felt that he was but a weak instrument. Before he ventured out Moroni bowed himself down and prayed mightily that the Lord would pour down on the people the blessing of liberty.
Filled with the new strength that earnest prayer always imparts, he seized the title of liberty, and walked boldly out into the howling mob in the street.
When the people saw Moroni clad in martial array and read what was on his torn flag, the clamor died on their lips. Many quickly separated themselves from the crowd and followed the general.
When he reached the palace of justice and ascended the stairs to the portico, he found the square below filled with a surging multitude and from all directions others were hurrying. Men who had fought in the wars with Moroni were fastening on their armor as they ran, and women pulled children by the hand.
Moroni stepped forward and grasped the standard of liberty as he cried in a loud voice, "Behold whosoever will maintain this title upon the land, let them come forth in the strength of the Lord, and enter into a covenant that they will maintain their rights, and their religion, that the Lord God may bless them."
At this many of the people rent their garments and trampled them under foot as they cried, "So may our enemies trample us under foot if we fall into transgression."
Moroni reminded them that was what would probably happen. Then he launched into speech while the populace hung spell-bound on every word. The vast concourse stood silent while his utterance rang out. Never had such a eulogy been paid to liberty, never such a tribute to their God. In glowing words he pictured what they had endured for their religion, what they had suffered in the recent wars for their freedom. Scarcely one in that vast multitude but what had sacrificed for both. As the orator ended with the appeal, "Will you who have so bitterly resented the Lamanitsh yoke bend the knee to a Nephite king?" an ominous shout arose and he knew that the populace was with him. General Moroni was still the idol of the people and Amalickiah stood impugned.
As the speaker, sucked of his strength, turned to descend, someone plucked at his arm. He recognized the big servant of Zorabel who delivered the message.
"My mistress would speak with you. She begs that you will come to her."
"Tell your mistress Zorabel that I shall come, but not yet."
With that he dismissed the messenger and made his way to the barracks where there was much that demanded the attention of the commander-in-chief for the rest of the afternoon.
It was evening when he at last made his way toward the house of Zorabel. In her apartment the oil already flamed in its brazen cruet. So vast was the room that the light did not penetrate to its further corners, but it served to illumine its magnificence. The walls were carved in grotesque designs brilliantly colored. Prominent among the engravings was the winged serpent of Moroni, and by its side the leopard of Amalickiah. On the floor, over the couches, at the door, were displayed richest blankets of heaviest woof and rainbow hue. Nor were there lacking evidences of the personality of Moroni, for his gifts were placed with loving care. On an alabaster stand lay a book of papyrus filled with picture writing in colored inks, depicting the scenes of the conflicts Moroni had taken part in. Against the wall stood a buckskin shield won from a famous Lamanite chief. Her own divan was graced by the skin of an ocelot that Moroni had brought from one of his foraying expeditions.
Another woman would have paled in such gorgeous surroundings, but Zorabel dominated the whole. In crimson robes, the wealth of her raven hair bound in fillets of gold, she was the throbbing heart of the scene. Her own heart beat unevenly beneath the white bosom which was circled with a necklace of jade. She had placed the bangles there wondering if his man's brain would remember under what circumstances he had given them to her. She had neglected no detail that night that would help in the desperate enterprise on which she was bound.
There was a tread in the corridor and Moroni stood in the doorway. As she looked at him all her reproaches for his tardiness died on her lips and her woman's tenderness gushed forth.
"You are ill."
After the exertions of the day Moroni's features were drawn, his face pallid, and the life had gone out of him. Quickly she went to him and he enveloped her in his arms.
"Come," she said at last, "you are shaking as if you had the ague. I will give you some wine." She poured an amber liquid into a goblet and held it to his lips as he sat down weakly.
"It has been a terrible day," she moaned.
"Yes," he agreed. "Was that what you wanted to see me about?"
"I always want to see you, but I wished to talk to you, about—" she hesitated, "Amalickiah."
"I had to oppose him," said Moroni wearily.
"Yes, and defeated him. You won the people over to your side."
"He would be king."
"He is ambitious but he cannot help it."
"But he should learn that he cannot jeopardize the liberty of a nation to gratify his vaulting ambition."
"He was dissatisfied with his position."
"He saved my life, but I could not pay my debts with the offices of the people. The trust I gave him he has betrayed."
Zorabel winced, "The first victory came to you. Promise me you will oppose my brother no longer."
"He is a menace to our freedom."
"You will cease the conflict for my sake?"
"I cannot."
"Moroni, I would give up my life for you."
"Ask me for my life, Zorabel, and it is yours. As military leader, I must defend the country against any encroachment."
"Then you will let him go his way and not molest him further."
"He is seducing the people and they will have to come back."
"At least, you will let Amalickiah go?"
"Not even that, my Zorabel. As long as he is free the Nephite republic is threatened."
"Then you will do nothing?'' And her face was terrible.
"I cannot."
"Oh, God, have I come to this? What is this insensate thing that I have poured out the lavishness of my soul on? I thought it was a man," she flung up her arms despairingly.
"As I am a man I cannot do this thing you ask me. Forgive me, Zorabel," he choked.
"I have wasted my wealth of love; there is none left. What has it brought me? I have torn my heart out and it has been devoured by the God of War, but unlike the miserable victim that is sacrificed, my body shall live on and on, after the heart has gone from it."
"Zorabel, you are killing me."
"I am already dead. No man shall again thrill me with his touch nor will he put me on the rack. Henceforth, I have no master. As for you," she had worked herself into a paroxysm of fury, "never let me see your face again." In her tempestuous rage she seized the lamp and dashed it on the floor.
Darkness closed in, and out of the blackness Moroni heard a voice that ordered him to "Go." He groped blindly around but instinct told him that if he touched her he would be lost, nor would he be the first man that betrayed his country for a woman. Staggering, he turned and stumbled out. Like a drunken man he descended to the street. Even then had he known that Zorabel lay on the floor shaken with convulsive sobs he might have turned back. But destiny guided him on.
When he reached home he found a message from Hirza, congratulating him on the splendid achievement of the day. With a wan smile he thought, "At what a cost!"
AZTEC GOD OF WAR.