Corianton: A Nephite Story

by B. H. Roberts

THE PRISONER.

The summer's sun was just struggling through the mists that overhung the eastern horizon, and faintly gilding the towers and housetops of Zarahemla, as a party of seven horsemen, evidently weary with the night's travel, were seen slowly moving along the foot of the hill Manti, in the direction of the above named city.

The manner in which the party traveled was evidently by pre-arrangement, and for a purpose. Two rode in advance and two in the rear, while the other three rode abreast, the one in the middle being closely guarded by those who rode beside him. A second look showed that his arms were securely bound behind him, and the guard on each side held the powerful horse he rode by means of a strap of raw-hide fastened to the bridle. The prisoner was the most, in fact the only person of striking appearance in the little cavalcade, the others being rather heavy, dull men of serious countenance; the prisoner, however, had an air of boldness and cool defiance which contrasted sharply with the humble aspect of his guards. He sat his horse with an easy grace which gave less evidence of fatigue from the long ride through the sultry night than that exhibited by his guards; the man, indeed, seemed especially adapted for endurance. The head, too, was massive and the countenance striking; the brilliancy of the bold black eyes challenged contest or flashed back defiance, while the peculiar expression about the mouth, half scornful smile, half sneer, seemed to breathe contempt for all things on which he looked.

The party now came in full view of the city. "At last," with mocked solemnity, exclaimed he that was bound, "the soldiers of Christ and their prisoner behold the holy city, where dwells the great prophet—even God's High Priest, who smites with the words of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips slays the wicked!" and the speaker laughed scornfully, but his guards made no reply.

"Methinks ye soldiers of the king that is to be, give scant homage to a shrine so holy as this—why, think men, this is the abode of God's vicegerent, the headquarters of heaven on earth so to speak! And yet ye move on in full view of this holy shrine unbowed! Down slaves, and worship the place of my sanctuary—so run the words of holy prophets, is it not so?"

Still no answer.

"Yet uncovered and unbowed? Ah, I forgot, you are from the land of Gideon, where dwells another of these holy prophets—and, it may be, that to worship at this shrine would be treason to your own High Priest! O, thou bright-eyed goddess of liberty, what distraction, what fears must disturb the breasts of the poor, craven wretches who worship aught but thee!"

Further remarks of the scoffer were cut short by the guards in advance urging their horses into a brisk gallop, an example followed by the rest of the party. The good broad road, down which they dashed, sloped gently from the western base of the hill Manti to the gate in the east wall of the city. The road had been cut through a primeval forest, and the strips of woodland on either side of it, still untouched by the woodman's ax, made of it a grand avenue. Here and there to the right and left were lanes leading off to the fields beyond, toward which agricultural laborers were slowly moving to begin the toil of the day. These turned to look with unconcealed wonder upon the strange party as it dashed past them, and some few turned back to the city, bent on finding out who the prisoner was and what was afoot.

As the party drew rein near the gate, two guards armed with heavy swords and long spears, challenged their entrance, and demanded their business.

"Great God!" exclaimed the prisoner, "and this is the people who boast of their freedom! This is the free city of Zarahemla! and yet here stands the minions of the High Priest and the Chief Judge to question whence ye come and why!"