III.
THE TRANCE.
The queen sent for Ammon to come to the death chamber where the body of the king had lain in state for two days and two nights. Though her husband was apparently dead and the magnificent sepulchre stood gaping for the interment, the grief-stricken wife would not have it so. As in all southern countries, it was the custom to bury a corpse within twenty-four hours after death. The servants began to go about holding their noses as they exclaimed, "He stinketh." In this dilemma, the queen sent for Ammon. She had heard of his fame through Alla.
She met him at the entrance and conducted him into the funeral chapel where she had been keeping sorrowful vigil. Coming out of the sunlight into the damp chamber, a cold chill swept over him. The vast, dimly lighted apartment, constructed entirely of stone, was bare of furnishings except for the bier in the middle where the body was laid out.
As the queen led Ammon over and removed the draperies, displaying the king garbed in his royal robes, she murmured in agonized tones, "They tell me you are a prophet of God, and have power to do mighty works in his name. See, some say that he is dead and ought to be placed in the sepulchre, but to me he is not dead."
The missionary bent low over the wax like face still as a mask. Closely he scrutinized the veins. Looking up he announced, "He is not dead, but he sleepeth in God, and on the morrow he shall rise again; therefore bury him not. Believeth thou this?"
"I believe it will be according as you say."
"Blessed art thou because of thy exceeding faith: I say unto thee, woman, there has not been such great faith among all the people of the Nephites."
All through the still hours of the night the queen kept vigil over the lifeless figure. When the gray dawn stole in through the casement she welcomed it with relief. At the appointed hour when the king should rise came Ammon to give her courage.
As they watched the form stirred, then slowly arose and shook off the shroud. When the king recognized his faithful wife he stretched forth his hand and blest her. His face shone with a transcendent light, and overcome by the spirit, he sank down by the side of the bier. The queen, in sheer weakness of joy embraced him. Ammon fell on his knees and poured forth his soul in prayer and thanksgiving.
It so chanced that Alla was hovering near. She felt strange influences in the air; also was she piqued by this Nephite prophet who ignored her. When she came into the room, beheld the trio on their knees and her father risen from his bed, she uttered shriek after shriek. The frightened servants came running, and when they saw the king risen from the dead they also fell upon their knees.
One alone, Abish, a waiting woman, who had been converted to the gospel sometime before, retained her presence of mind.
"It is the power of God," she opined, and ran carrying the news from house to house.
A vast multitude assembled and when they beheld the spectacle at the palace and noted the Nephite in the strange group, they began to murmur.
"A great evil has come among us," cried one.
"Nay, let it fall on the king's head for harboring the alien," interposed another.
Still others said, "The king has brought destruction on himself for killing his servants when they lost the herds at Sebus."
The friends of the men whom Ammon had slain there heaped their maledictions on the Nephite. One, whose brother had been killed, obsessed with frenzy, drew his sword, and rushed at Ammon, but as he raised his blade to strike him, he himself reeled and fell dead. Was it apoplexy, a deep seated heart trouble, or had the Lord, who promised Ammon that he should pass unscathed through perils, struck him down? The awestruck populace did not know.
"This man is the Great Spirit," said one clinging to some vestiges of the old faith.
"He is a monster," disagreed another.
They straightway quarreled over the matter; the crowd took sides. A clash was imminent whereat Abish burst into tears. In this emergency she went over to the queen, and tenderly helped her to her feet. The latter's face was radiant as she took hold of the hand of the king. He confronted the multitude. In few words he endorsed the work of Ammon. His conversion was wrought during his trance. From that time forth he was the missionary's ablest advocate.
That night a great feast was given to celebrate the recovery of the king. The palace gardens were thrown open to the people. Bands played on the terraces, fountains sprayed by the lurid light of the bon fires, and the moonlight kissed the lake. The whole city rejoiced in gala attire, while the attaches of the palace, relieved from the recent strain, relapsed into abandon. The queen's heart expanded toward all mankind; the king, snatched from the grave, lorded it graciously over his subjects. The nobles exchanged merry quips and the banquet was long drawn out. People treated Ammon with semi-worship. He was in an exalted frame of mind for he knew that his work was auspiciously begun.
Blinded with the lights and deafened with the noise, he felt faint, and clambered out into the open air to walk beneath the stars. Back and forth he paced when he heard his name called in a soft voice. He wheeled to behold Alla beneath the rubber plants. As he went towards her, she, in her yellow robes against the dark green of the foliage, reminded him more than ever of a gorgeous butterfly.
"I have not had a chance to thank you before for what you did for my father," she said between sips of fruit juice.
Ammon disclaimed credit, saying it was all due to the power of the Lord.
"I want you to help me tonight. Come into the garden. We will have to hurry, or Hebron, who went to fetch me an ice, will be back."
Without more ado she took hold of his arm and hastily urged him down the stairs. On reaching the garden she plucked a burning brand from the fire and led him through dark, circuitous paths beneath the umbrella trees till the roof of a round topped building loomed before them.
"Be careful of the steps," she cautioned as she started to descend into it, but she herself jumped when a black beetle fell from one of the overhanging branches. He came to her rescue and together they entered the underground chamber. Ammon looked about him curiously. The place was lined with hewn stone. He laid his hand on a porphyry vase that contained incense.
"See," Alla held the light up to the wall. "These paintings depict the principal events in my father's life."
Ammon's eyes followed the intricate designs without grasping their meaning.
"You will notice," she continued, "that the other side of the room is blank. That space is kept for the scenes yet to come."
"But if he should die—" his gaze traveled to the middle of the room where reposed a marble sarcophagus with its maw gaping wide for the dead.
She read his thoughts, "Yes, this is my father's tomb. The lid was removed when we thought we would have to bring him here. He must not see it in this condition. I dared not bring the servants to shut it, for they talk. You are strong, will you not lift the lid back into place?"
The missionary bent his shoulders to the task. He clutched the marble slab in his arms, rocked for a moment under its weight, then closed it down on the tomb.
"So it is cheated of its occupant," he finished.
"I hope it stays sealed a long time," sighed Alla.
The torch flickered out and they stumbled out of the musty tomb into the garden scented with honey suckle blooms. They found their way to the rose garden whose charms Ammon had never known before. The excitement of the day had not yet worn off and the allurement of the tropics got into his blood. Seeing the city gone wild with pleasure, gave rise to resentment that he should be cheated of it. With parched lips he thirsted to quaff this sweet cup that was held to his lips. He glanced at his companion, natural and more fair than any wild thing in the woods. Seized with moon madness the couple wandered down to the sluggish waters of the lake.
"Yonder is my chinampa,—my floating garden." She indicated a black oasis. "When I grow weary of the world I flee to it and while the day away on the bosom of the waters. I have there a little chapel filled with the images of our Lamanite gods. Would you like to see them?"
Ammon assented, so she clambered over the rocks and shot out her canoe. They took their places in it and the man drove it across the lake with broad strokes.
Alla fell silent. What availed all her little vanities in the presence of this man who read her very soul. He was her master; already she worshiped him. The calm also gave Ammon time to think of where his folly led him. Even if he should marry, this creature of impulse was not the woman for him. Linked with his austere life she would beat her brilliant wings out and become a limp, draggled thing. He could not spoil her life. On the other hand, if he made her happy, his mission would have to be abandoned. If she were only different. Then he reflected a little sadly that if she were anything but what she was he would not love her.
As if to make his resolve harder she broke the silence. "You remember that day when we first met, my father offered me to you?"
He inclined his head.
"You said then, 'The women of my country choose their own husbands.' Would it make any difference if the woman offered herself to you?"
Ammon felt a sharp twinge of pain, but he steadied his voice. "No. You remember that I said afterward that a missionary cannot marry."
"That day, smarting with hurt pride, I determined that I would make you love me. Now, I wish I hadn't." They had reached the island and she hid her confusion in landing. The garden was one bouquet of fragrant posies. Their feet sank into long moss beneath, while festoons of Spanish moss draped above. Alia led the Nephite to a grotto, whence issued the sound of running water. The sanctuary was built around a gurgling spring. Dark and dismal, it was but illy lighted by the white moonlight that streamed in.
"These are the images of the gods of the Lamanites." She indicated huge figures carved in stone that lay about the place. "This is Tlalac, god of rain; yonder the goddess of grain." Stroking the most hideous idol she added, "This is Huitzil, god of war."
Ammon's eyes were fastened on a slender white cross reared in front of the last.
"That is the symbol of your religion, for I saw a little cross hanging around your neck. I have embraced your faith and I brought the new symbol here in their own temple to deride the fallen idols."
Ammon, deeply touched, took off his own chain and fastened the pendant crucifix around the neck of the girl. She reached up to thank him. For a moment he felt his head reel. Then very gently he took hold of her arms and pushed her away from him. As they stood thus the sound of a paddle fell on their startled ears. They both started back and then Ammon impulsively stepped out to the edge of the water. He saw Hebron, a noble who paid court to Alla, rowing alone on the lake. He hailed him. "The Princess Alla came here to show me the ancient idols. Will you not take her back."
Hebron, who was surprised to find the lady that he had missed earlier in the evening, came up with alacrity. If Ammon had a momentary flash of jealousy as he helped Alla in, it was soon dispelled, for she crouched down in the further end of the boat in a dejected heap, her poor little wreath of flowers drooping forlornly in her hair. Still as a statue he watched them speed across the lake. When they touched shore and the man arose to help her out, he turned away his eyes, for they were blinded with tears.
"It is better so," he muttered with finality. He took the other canoe and resolutely turned his back on the scene. He plowed viciously through the water until his mighty arms ached. When he had worn himself out he landed on the opposite shore of the lake.
In the shadow of the giant trees he walked. The hoary cypresses held the secrets of a thousand years, but never before had they witnessed such a struggle in the soul of a man. When the hateful dawn came stealing through the branches, wan and haggard, Ammon sought his cell. Never before had it seemed so bare, nor the hard bed more uninviting. At his order prison doors should break and kings should bow the knee, but the greatest thing that Ammon ever did was to conquer himself, that night.