In the Days of Lachoneus: The Gathering

By David Alan Armstrong

In the Days of Lachoneus is an epic story of politics and patriotism, intrigue and murder,
war and violence, love and betrayal, friendship and loyalty, believers and unbelievers, good and
evil, set in the landscape of pre-Columbian Mesoamerica. The historical background for the story
is the account in the Book of Mormon, Another Testament of Jesus Christ, of the fierce struggle
to the death between the murderous counter-culture of the Gadianton Robbers and the liberty-
loving society of the Nephites, a people descended from the tribes of Israel.

The first volume in this three-book series is The Gathering, in which Governor
Lachoneus of Zarahemla faces the challenge to surrender or be destroyed by Giddianhi and his
Gadianton terrorists. The citizens of Zarahemla have beaten and driven the Gadiantons once,
only to lose ground in a second battle. Emboldened by his most recent success, Giddianhi writes
an arrogant letter to Lachoneus boasting that his army will wipe out the population of Zarahemla
unless they turn over all property and possessions to the robber band and join their secret society.

Woven between the scenes of war, government and politics on a grand scale are personal
stories of intrigue and young love. Traitors within Governor Lachoneus’s council plot his
overthrow. Giddianhi’s ruthless rule over the Gadiantons is also not without its internal enemies
who design his demise. At the same time, Lachoneus’s beautiful daughter and his house servant
are hopelessly in love, yet they are kept apart by class, station, and temperament.
Dissention and apostasy among the Nephites of Zarahemla threaten the people with utter
destruction. Lachoneus fears that the decrees of God are about to descend upon his wayward
people. When the letter from Giddianhi arrives, Lachoneus seizes upon this opportunity to call
the people to repentance and to unite them in a common cause that is bigger than their petty
jealousies and personal greed. He warns the people of the threat from the Gadiantons and issues
a proclamation throughout all the land for the people to gather together into a single body. They
will build a fortress and organize an army and prepare for a fight to the death to defend their
lives, their liberty, their families, and their way of life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Alan Armstrong
• Release date: Jun 14, 2024
• ISBN: 9781503572881

David Alan Armstrong

David Alan Armstrong lives with his wife in his adopted home town of Kaysville, Utah, after having grown up in Southern California. His three children and five grandchildren are spread around the U.S. He has degrees in Education from Brigham Young University and the University of Southern California. He retired from a forty-year career in the Information Technology industry as a programmer, analyst, project manager just one week before the COVID-19 pandemic. He spends his time now caring for his disabled wife, keeping up the house and yard, playing guitar and piano, coordinating a caregiver support group, helping his neighbors, actively serving in his congregation of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and writing.

Book preview

In the Days of Lachoneus

The Gathering

By David Alan Armstrong

Copyright 2015 by David Alan Armstrong

Smashwords Edition

This book is available in print at most online retailers.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015908313

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction inspired by historical events. The groups of people depicted in this novel—Nephites, Lamanites, and Gadianton Robbers—as well as the general setting of the story in the land of Zarahemla were very real, as recorded in the Book of Mormon. Several of the characters that appear in the novel, such as Lachoneus, Zemnarihah, and Giddianhi, were likewise real people. Their appearance, words, and many of their actions as portrayed in this book come from the imagination of the author. Other characters in the novel do not appear in history and are the creation of the author. While the major events in the novel, like the battles and the threatening letter from Giddianhi to Lachoneus, are real, the details and fictitious.

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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication:

To Evelyn, who inspires me, fires my faith, and supports me every day and in every way. Because of her I will always be a better person.

In the Days of Lachoneus

The Gathering

Chapter 1

In the Third Month of the Fourteenth Year

And it came to pass in the commencement of the fourteenth year, the war between the robbers and the people of Nephi did continue and did become exceedingly sore; nevertheless, the people of Nephi did gain some advantage of the robbers, insomuch that they did drive them back out of their lands into the mountains and into their secret places.

-- Book of Mormon, 3 Nephi 2:17

The summer sun approached the top of the mountains to the west. The humid air still shimmered with the heat of the day. Small columns of smoke swirled upwards from scattered spots on the valley floor into the cloudless blue sky. Cries and moans from the wounded and dying were mixed with shouts for help from the men who scurried among the lifeless bodies strewn along both banks of the river and up the gentle slopes on either side. More bodies floated in the muddy river, moving gently with the current. The ground was spongy from yesterday's afternoon rain and today's blood.

The faded sounds of battle still rang in the ears of a stocky man in his mid-forties who knelt on the damp ground by the side of a fallen warrior. The kneeling man’s thick, silver hair was matted against his head from perspiration. Splattered blood soaked the front of his simple beige tunic and covered his bare legs and sandaled feet. He finished tying off the tourniquet around the stump of the soldier's severed arm. He wiped sweat from his own brow with the back of his wrist. He was grateful that the man was unconscious. It was hard to tell how much blood on the ground had come from the man's arm and how much had come from the pierced and slashed bodies around him. Perhaps the poor fellow would survive, but probably not. He pressed his finger against the wounded man's bloody neck one more time. The pulse was weak, but his heart was still beating. He grimly placed his hand on the man's other shoulder and whispered, Farewell, my friend.

He scanned about and saw a figure slumped against a boulder about thirty paces up the river bank. The man made his way slowly up the slope. Fatigue weighed on his shoulders and sucked the strength from his legs. His arms ached from having wielded his sword and shield for many hours during the day’s battle.

As he approached the lone figure, he saw it was a young man, hardly more than a boy, propped up against the small boulder. The setting sun glinted on the tears that streamed down the boy’s ashen face. His straight, dark hair was wet and matted. In his lap his blood-soaked hands cradled a mass of intestines that protruded from a vicious gash across his abdomen. The boy stared at the gory mess in his lap and cried softly.

The older man surveyed the situation and slumped to the ground next to the boy. He leaned against the rock, letting his shoulder touch the boy's. The boy slowly looked up and into the eyes of the older, silver-haired man, who marveled at how calm and quiet the young man was. Nonetheless, after all the death he had seen in the past few days, the older man was becoming accustomed to unexpected reactions from those who had little time left.

Tears continued to stream down the boy's muddy cheeks. He swallowed hard as he looked deeply into the man’s eyes. Then he looked back at his lap. I can’t go home like this, he croaked. How’ll they ever put all this back in me? He looked quickly again at the man next to him with pleading in his eyes. You won't let my mama see me like this, will ya? It’d kill her.

The man reached out his hand and placed it on the boy's bloody arm. No, son, I won't let your mother see you like this.

I’m such a mess! The boy let out a sob. He slowly looked around. Did we . . . did we win?

The man sighed. It's over anyway, he said, more to himself than to the boy. For now, he added bitterly.

He squeezed the boy's arm with a gentle grip. What’s your name, son?

Kimrah, of Manti, the boy answered.

I am Lachoneus of Zarahemla; you fought manly today before the eyes of your people and your God. Your mother and father will be proud of you.

Have ya seen my father? Kimrah's eyes widened. He was next to me down there by the river till they rushed us and broke through our line. I didn’t see where he went. I imagine he’s probably lookin’ for me. Will ya find him and tell him where I am?

I will do my best. Your father was a brave man on this day as well. Even as he spoke the words, Lachoneus was certain that Kimrah’s father had fallen with the rest of the men who were cut down at the river’s edge.

Lachoneus felt a shiver go through the boy's body. I'm cold, Kimrah said, staring straight ahead again. Why’s it so cold?

The older man lifted his red-stained hand to shield his eyes as he looked toward the western mountains. The sun will be down soon.

The young man let out a long sigh, and another shiver shook his body. His eyes began to droop, and his chin slowly dropped to his chest. I'm so tired, he whispered.

Yes, it is time for you to rest, son.

Kimrah's breathing became slow and shallow. He went completely still for a long moment, then he suddenly jerked and drew in a long, deep breath, which startled Lachoneus. He held the air in his lungs for a moment, and then let it out in one long, slow release. His body leaned heavily against Lachoneus's shoulder, and his hands finally slipped from his lap.

Lachoneus gently pushed the boy’s weight off his shoulder, slid himself to the side, and reverently laid the limp body on the ground. He straightened Kimrah into a comfortable position of dignified slumber. He noticed for the first time the wooden shield leaning against the other side of the boulder. He heaved himself off the ground to retrieve it. A sharp pain in his right thigh caught his breath away for a moment. He adjusted the piece of cloth that he had tied around his leg to staunch the bleeding. He then lifted the battered shield and placed it carefully over the gory gash in the boy's abdomen. When his mother would come to find him in the morning, Lachoneus had promised that she would not see him as he was.

O God, into thy hands I commend the valiant spirit of Kimrah of Manti, Lachoneus intoned.

Lachoneus had no tears left to shed after such a horrendous day. There was only great weariness. As the governor of the land of Zarahemla, he had led his people against the onslaught of the Gadianton Robbers. He dared not call his men an army. They were merely farmers and shopkeepers, blacksmiths and tinsmiths, millwrights and wheelwrights, shepherds and carpenters. They had come together as volunteers to defend their cities and villages and farms, their wives and children, against the marauders and terrorists who threatened to overrun their land, seize their property and destroy their lives.

When the Gadiantons were first discovered moving stealthily along the outskirts of the valley to the northeast of the city of Zarahemla, the alarm had gone quickly through the city and into the surrounding villages. Lachoneus was surprised that so many men rallied to the cry so quickly. Some brought scythes and axes and crude clubs, but many had costly bronze swords. Others carried cimeters—broad wooden paddles edged with flecks of sharp rock, sea shells, bones, and sharp teeth. Many brought round wooden shields, a few edged with iron. Considering these were not fighting men, they were surprisingly well equipped for combat.

The Gadiantons had the advantage of spears and a few bows to augment their swords, shields and clubs. But they had lost the advantage of complete surprise, thanks to the vigilant watchmen who kept an eye day and night on the edge of the narrow strip of wilderness where the Gadiantons were bivouacked in mountain strongholds.

On the first day of battle, the men of Zarahemla held their own, and the Gadiantons retreated into the wilderness to the north when the sun went down. Losses were heavy for the less experienced band of volunteers, but they had the advantage of numbers over the robbers. The second day, the fighting did not fare so well for the defenders, and by the evening, they had to retreat behind the main gates of the city, leaving the robbers to scream and chant and taunt them as they camped for the night directly in front of the east gate.

During the night, a fresh band of men from some of the farther villages and farms had arrived at Zarahemla and entered the city through the west gate. Before sunrise of the third day, which was today, Lachoneus had sent the fresh arrivals back through the west gate with orders to circle behind the robbers’ encampment. As the sun rose, they rushed the enemy’s camp from the rear. At the same time, the last of the men inside the city who could still hold a weapon, led by Lachoneus, threw open the east gate and charged out.

Surprised and surrounded, the Gadiantons were in a state of confusion. It looked like the people of Zarahemla would win the day before the sun was fully up. But the captains of the robbers quickly rallied their men, and they fought back ferociously. They began to drive the defenders south over a small ridge and towards the river, which ran along the bottom of the valley above which Zarahemla was perched. Lachoneus and his small band drove into the robbers’ flanks, but they could not slow their gradual pressure against the main force that stood between the robbers and the river.

Then to the surprise of the men of Zarahemla, a band of robbers appeared and descended upon them from the southeast. Outflanked, the defenders began to give way more quickly. The fighting was intense. The clanging of metal, the smashing of wood, and the sickening crack of shattered skulls and bones assaulted the ears and mixed with cries and grunts and shouts. The troops in the rear saw the plight of the men whose backs were to the river and broke off their assault to try to circle the robbers’ flanks and join the battle on the river bank. Before they could join their comrades, the Gadiantons slashed and pushed their way through the last thin line of defenders and dashed across the river and back up the southern slope of the broad valley towards the forest. The men of Zarahemla tried to follow, but they were too spent to go far. In the wake of their escape, the robbers left the trail of carnage that Lachoneus now surveyed.

The robbers had gained nothing and had lost many men. The people of Zarahemla had lost many more men, and had gained only a brief reprieve from the constant threat of the Gadiantons, their sworn enemies. Lachoneus’ hope was that their losses would cause the Gadiantons to take their time to regroup and reorganize before they came again. For surely another day and another attack would come. It had been so for a decade, and no end was in sight.

Lachoneus limped up the slope, following the trail of the fleeing robbers. He picked his way carefully among the twisted bodies, the bloody limbs, the hunks of raw flesh, and the pools of blood. He looked for other signs of life among the fallen humanity. His thoughts turned to the time—so long ago, it felt—when he had transitioned from an ordinary citizen to the leader of the people.

Lachoneus had come to the governorship of Zarahemla nearly sixteen years ago. He was the third son of the previous governor. Governors traditionally served for life. When a governor became incapacitated or passed away, one of his sons—typically the oldest son—would be chosen by the people as the new governor. It was not a law that the son succeed the father, but it had been so for many generations. Being the third son, and his father being in good health, Lachoneus had little inclination as a young man to think about government service. He had planned on making a good living from the silver mine he had discovered, raising a family, and being an ordinary citizen. His plans were changed when first his father took sick and died unexpectedly from one of the many fevers that swept through the lowlands of the jungle from time to time, and then both of his older brothers refused the governor position. They were both doing well in business and had established families in provinces away from Zarahemla. Neither was willing to give up his business and the prospects of wealth and comfort to take on the burden of being governor. They had watched their father struggle under the load of leadership, and neither had an appetite for it.

When both brothers refused to answer the call to service, the people turned to the third and last son—Lachoneus. He had no more desire to be governor than his brothers had. He was a young man, married but a few years, with a young son and a long-awaited second child finally on the way. His mining business was new and profitable, but he did not know how extensive the vein of silver was and where he might find the next rich deposit. He had recently acquired a house in the city of Zarahemla. Despite his public objections, the lot fell to him. When faced with the decision, he counseled with his wife, Miriam. Though her husband was not a religious man, Miriam was a firm believer in the One God of Israel. She made the decision a matter of prayer, as was her custom with most decisions, and she announced to Lachoneus the next day that he should accept the appointment. She was willing to give up her new house and do whatever was needed to faithfully support her husband. Lachoneus put little stock in prayer, but he was won over by Miriam’s enthusiasm. Despite his intentions to the contrary, Lachoneus became governor, which also meant he was the chief judge—the main officer of the final court of appeals.

In the years since his decision to accept the appointment, Lachoneus had often wondered whether he had been right in letting his wife sway him. Mostly, he knew, it was vanity that motivated him to take the job. For once he could outdo his older brothers. He could be an important man with power and authority. These temptations were hard to resist. He had since learned for himself that the glory quickly faded as the demanding work administration became the daily task.

A month later, a baby girl was born to Miriam. The happy parents named her Rachel.

He had been in office hardly a year when he experienced the first significant disturbance among his people. A sharp division had arisen between a group of religious fanatics who believed in prophecies of a coming Messiah and a much larger faction of the populace who were decidedly anti-Messiah. The contention was a matter of religious philosophy on which Lachoneus had no particular opinion. His wife, however, was very much a believer in the prophecies and often spoke of the promised Messiah to her husband, who tolerated her faith but had no interest in it. He was interested, however, in the peace of his people, and he sought for ways to squelch the religious contention. Despite his efforts, the tensions rose between the two groups. He was dismayed when the two factions became organized parties. A harmless but enthusiastic believer named Nephi was the de facto head of the Messiah worshippers. Lachoneus was more disturbed to learn of the hot-headed leaders who had stepped forward within the anti-Messiah party. The people were becoming fractured. Tempers heated up. Mob violence erupted. Lachoneus tried to remain impartial between the two groups as he judged disputes and ruled on criminal charges.

Then his wife brought him unbelievable news. The anti-Messiah coalition was threatening to exterminate the believers. The leaders had set a date by which, if the heavenly sign awaited by the believers did not occur, the anti-Messiah group would declare open warfare on the believers. Messiah worshippers who were still in Zarahemla on the designated date would be hunted down.

Lachoneus was dumbfounded by the open disregard for law, which the anti-Messiah faction flaunted. He offered to arbitrate between the two groups, but the powerful anti-Messiah leaders ignored his invitation. The governor had a small group of local constables at his disposal, but they would be no match for the mobs that were forming. Zarahemla had no militia or standing army. The beleaguered governor decided the best strategy was to encourage the believers to leave the province until the excitement died down. He was frustrated when many, including Nephi and the other leaders of the group, stubbornly refused to leave their homes. His own wife, Miriam, was among those who insisted on staying in Zarahemla. She was steadfast in her faith that her God would send the much-awaited sign of the Messiah.

As the designated day approached, she spent more and more time in prayer. Lachoneus was beside himself with worry for her safety and the safety of their son and baby daughter. He could not abandon his position at such a critical moment, and he could not convince his wife to leave. On the day before the date set by the anti-Messiah leaders, Lachoneus finally settled on a strategy. He arranged with a cousin to take his wife and baby by force if necessary out of the city after dark.

What happened that night, however, changed Lachoneus’s life forever. The sun set behind the western mountains in its normal course, but the sky did not get dark. A brilliant light flared into existence in the eastern sky and lit up the night as if it were noon day. The light was so bright that Lachoneus could not look directly at it. Throughout the night, the dazzling object hung in the sky and traveled toward the western horizon. As it began to set behind the peaks, the sun rose in the east. A day, a night, and a day passed with no darkness, just as had been prophesied five years earlier by a Lamanite named Samuel.

The believers who remained in the city took to the streets shortly after the great light appeared. They celebrated through the bright night and well into the morning. The sign had been given. The mobs did not form. Lachoneus was impressed most by the humility of the believers. They exhibited no recrimination against their would-be exterminators. The backlash, which the governor feared, did not materialize. While the believers danced in the streets and sang songs of thanksgiving, most of the population cowered in their homes. When the sun set at the end of the second day, the night sky returned to its normal darkness. A spectacular new star, however, blazed in the heavens. It remained exceptionally bright every night for several weeks. It gradually faded in intensity until a few months later it was no brighter than the bigger stars at night.

Lachoneus conceded to Miriam that something truly miraculous had occurred. Encouraged by his open heart, she brought Nephi, the leader of the believers, to the palace to meet her husband. Lachoneus was impressed by the man who exhibited quiet confidence without being overbearing. He listened to him speak of faith, mercy, and forgiveness. In time, after repeated discussions with his wife that often lasted late into the night, Lachoneus felt a stirring of faith in his heart. He found himself wanting to believe in a Messiah and in redemption. A feeling took possession of him that what his wife and the other believers taught was true. Eventually he consented to be baptized.

That was fourteen years ago. In the initial flush of excitement after the sign of the night without darkness, many flocked to Nephi and joined themselves to the believers. As the excitement waned, however, most people returned to their former ways. Nevertheless, Lachoneus knew that he would never return to his way of life before the sign. He was truly converted. His faith grew with his understanding of the plan of happiness, as Nephi called it. He and Miriam rejoiced together in their shared faith, which drew them closer than they had ever been.

Five years later, Lachoneus’s faith was put to the test when his wife was brought low with a fever. When she died, he thought his heart would burst. At first he raged for himself and his children at the God who had let his wife die. In time his rage turned to despair, and in his despair he cried out to God. His cry was answered with peace and an unmistakable witness to his soul that God loved him. The crisis passed, and his faith became unshakeable.

Now, in the growing dusk of the valley, he felt to cry out again to God for the loss of so many of his people. Though the memory of the great sign of the Messiah still blazed brightly in Lachoneus’s heart, it had faded from the minds of the majority of the people. While the relatively few steadfast believers looked forward to the next sign of the Messiah—a terrible time of darkness that would signal the Messiah’s death as He worked out the Atonement—most of the population had become course, greedy, and caught up in the pride of class distinctions—each man out for himself and pitted against his neighbor. As had happened many times in the past, as the people turned away from God, a scourge crashed upon them. This time it came in the form of the Gadianton Robbers.

These thoughts weighed heavily on Lachoneus’s heart as the valley became quieter. The cries, screams and moans died away, and he could hear the calming sound of the water in the Sidon River as it made its way in the growing gloom of evening towards the sea many leagues to the northwest.

Shortly after the sun dipped behind a peak at the west end of the long, gentle valley, the temperature in the air began to cool. Lachoneus turned, waded across the river, and climbed wearily up the gradual rise to the north. As he approached the crest of the ridge, the eerie silence of the killing field behind him gave way to a faint, high-pitched wail ahead of him. He knew that in the city on the other side of the hill, the women had begun to mourn. Wives, mothers, sisters and daughters wailed their grief for the men who would not return to the city that night. When he had accepted the governorship those many years ago, he could not have imagined a day such as this.

⬥⬥⬥

A man slammed the open palm of his hand on the large table. The echo of strident voices in the council chamber died away. All eyes turned toward the tall, slender man as he leaned forward, his hand still resting on the polished, dark-stained mahogany surface of the table.

My dear Governor! Ablom said through clenched teeth, his eyes blazing. We must do something now! We cannot let this Gadianton scum continue to invade our land and attack our people. These raids are intolerable!

Silence hung in the air as Ablom's words echoed off the bare limestone walls and floor. The eyes of the council members around the table followed Ablom's steady gaze to the head of the table, where Lachoneus stood. The silver-haired governor met Ablom's fixed glare without flinching. He leaned forward and rested both of his hands on the table.

What should we do? The robbers have already evaporated into the mountain wilderness. You know as well as anyone the price we have paid to hunt down these terrorists in their secret strongholds. Our men have either returned empty handed, or they have not returned at all. Can we afford to lose more men?

Heads around the table nodded. At this table met the High Council of Zarahemla. Lachoneus was the elected governor and chief judge of the land, and thus also the mayor of the capital city. The men with whom he now met were his hand-picked cabinet. Formal positions or departments did not exist in the government, but each man in the council had a role to play, and Lachoneus had selected them to suit those roles.

Ablom, who had just spoken so boldly to the governor, was a tall, handsome man with cinnamon skin and jet black hair, which he usually wore in a loose ponytail. He was about ten years older than Lachoneus, yet he looked younger. He was clever and strong. He knew how to lead men and administer an organization. He was a fiery fighter with great courage. Lachoneus was not ignorant of Ablom’s faults: he was proud and self-serving, and he could be cruel. But Lachoneus prized Ablom’s passion and determination.

Himni, who was standing in his usual place to Ablom’s left, was a seasoned warrior. It was hard to say how old he was. His dark, weathered face and gray-streaked hair made him look older than Lachoneus, even older than Ablom, but it was an effect of many days in the sun rather than the passing of years. He had been a hunter, a constable and a judge. As a student of his people’s history, he understood tactics and maneuvers. He was not, however, an exceptional leader. Zarahemla had no standing army. Himni was the closest thing to a military man Lachoneus had.

On the other side of Ablom, Gideon wrung his soft, slender hands. He was about thirty years old, the youngest of Lachoneus’s counselors. He was an organizer, whether of materials or men. He had a natural sense of order and sequence in the logistics of things. He also understood economics. Every detail and every action had a cost to Gideon, and he could keep the figures all in his head.

Between Gideon and Lachoneus stood Seezoran. He was perhaps forty, plump, and jovial. He was rarely without a pleasant smile, although at this moment he looked rather worried, even pained. Lachoneus loved him for his natural ability to bring peace and unity to the council discussions. Seezoran understood the value of compromise and how to find the value in each argument. He was not without his weaknesses. Sometimes his peace at any cost attitude made him seem ineffectual and double-minded. Nevertheless, Lachoneus appreciated his understanding of human nature.

To Lachoneus’s right, in the seat of honor, sat Melek. This wise, soft-spoken man, was the only one at the table who seemed calm, even disarmingly so. He was old enough to be Lachoneus’s father. He was, in fact, the uncle of the governor’s deceased wife. More than just an in-law, Lachoneus thought of this good man as his friend, a mentor, and a spiritual advisor. Melek was cautious in his approach and quiet in his speech, yet his presence inspired respect and even reverence without demanding it. It was to Melek’s thoughtful wisdom that Lachoneus listened most attentively.

After a long moment, Lachoneus straightened and relaxed his shoulders. My brethren, let us take our seats. This is not a time to quarrel and lose our heads. He pulled up the tall, straight-backed wooden chair behind him and slowly sat down, trying not to wince from the searing pain in the gash in his left thigh. The wooden legs scraped harshly against the stone floor as he pulled the chair up to the table. The others around the table likewise seated themselves.

When the room was quiet again, Lachoneus put his elbows on the table, folded his hands, extended his index fingers and put the tips together to form a triangle. He rested his chin on the point of the triangle. He knit his brow into deep furrows. He looked slowly around the large, round table, catching for a moment the eye of each of the five men who were his counselors. Then he stared at the grain in the wooden surface. Glancing again at the faces around him, he sighed grimly. I would like your counsel, brethren.

Ablom sat erect and tugged at the bottom of his tunic to straighten it. His tone was filled with fierceness. I say we mount another party, now, while the enemy is weary from fighting and running. They could not have reached their secret stronghold yet. They won’t expect us to hunt them down just a day after a raid. We just need more men! He clenched his fist and jabbed his index finger into the air.

Himni nodded. Ablom’s right! With enough troops in arms, we could find the robbers and wipe ‘em out. Take ‘em by surprise.

And where do we get these men? Lachoneus asked wearily. We put every able-bodied man into the field yesterday. Some were hardly more than boys. His voice caught as he thought of Kimrah. It was a miracle that so many responded to the call. Nearly half of them are still in that field, and their widows and mothers mourn them. He paused and drew his hands into his lap.

Men from Bountiful are probably still on their way here even now. They could be here by tomorrow, Ablom urged, once again jabbing his stiff finger toward the ceiling.

For a moment, Lachoneus considered the thought. Ablom’s enthusiasm for action was contagious. The sight, however, of so many bloody bodies on the banks of the river asserted itself into Lachoneus’s mind. No! he said, striking the arm of his chair with his fist. It’s too late. The robbers will have cleared out of the forests and would be safely hidden before we could find them. Even if we caught a few stragglers, we would not find their leaders.

Maybe we don’t find the leaders, but every dead Gadianton is one less murdering coyote to infest our land in the future! Ablom said, glaring again at Lachoneus.

The old man to Lachoneus’s immediate right stirred in his chair. Until now he had neither spoken nor moved. Revenge, my brother? The quiet, calm words came from Melek. I do not think we are in the business of revenge.

Ablom turned quickly towards the old man. An eye for an eye!

But not when it will cost you the only eye you have left, Melek said solemnly. He remained passively in his seat—no gestures, no expression other than his usual calm bemusement, only the turning of his head to look at the angry man across the table.

Gentlemen, please, let’s be reasonable, interjected Seezoran as he spread his arms wide to encompass the circle of men. We are friends here at this table. We have a common cause. Let’s not be hasty. Perhaps force is the right course, Ablom. The Gadiantons should not escape punishment. He then turned in his seat to face Lachoneus and folded his hands across his round belly. But I can see the governor’s point. There must be another way. Perhaps we should consider…

We are not ready to begin an offensive, Gideon interjected. The others around the table looked at the young counselor, who up to this point had sat quietly and stared at his hands. He looked down again and swallowed hard. By my count we lost four hundred sixty-five men yesterday. We cannot count on more coming. Even if fresh volunteers show up tomorrow, it would take five days to prepare them and organize them. It simply does not add up.

I agree with young Gideon, Seezoran chimed in. Retaliation is hopeless. The robbers always know where we are, but we never know where they are. They’re an organized band—an army. We’re a bunch of farmers and shopkeepers.

Farmers who can fight! Ablom said, and shook his finger at the corpulent counselor. Seezoran blanched, his perennial smile covered by a nervous frown.

Farmers who need to tend their farms and take care of their families, Melek countered. Compared to the intensity of Ablom’s speech, Melek’s soft voice was almost like a whisper, yet it filled the room like incense. We are a people of peace, not of war. If the Gadiantons would leave us in peace, we could be the happiest of people. The hand of Almighty God has been upon this people, and he has blessed us with liberty and prosperity. We worship the God of our fathers and the promised Messiah, the sign of whose birth was seen by this whole people just fourteen years ago. Even these wretched Gadiantons are children of God. We should not destroy our brethren, but we should help to reclaim those who are lost.

Lachoneus closed his eyes. We have had enough of death for one season. He leaned back in his chair and spread his hands on the table. What do we do about the farms and markets and workshops that have lost their husbandmen, merchants and artisans? What of the women and children who are left behind?

Ablom sighed and leaned back in his chair as well. Yes, we should consider all of our . . . brethren. He nodded and smiled thinly at Melek.

The discussion turned to the practical matters of keeping an economy going in the Sidon Valley when so many men would not be there to harvest the fields, tend the flocks, repair fences and make tools. This most recent raid by the Gadiantons had been the biggest in memory, and the cost to drive them out had been enormous.

These terrorists were becoming bolder by the year. Their numbers were ever growing as dissatisfied and greedy men abandoned their communities, their churches, and their friends to join the secret society of Gadianton. Some took their families with them into the mountains and beyond to the land of Nephi. Others left their families behind. The steady flow of strength to the Gadiantons further weakened the people of Zarahemla at every turn.

After considerable discussion, assignments were made. Gideon would take a census of the widows and determine how many had families to which they could turn for help and how many would need assistance from their villages. Seezoran would meet with the leaders in the surrounding communities to encourage them to deal generously with both the returning survivors and the families who had lost men. As a compromise to Ablom's demands to mount some kind of retaliation, Himni's assignment was to gather a small cohort and scour the edges of the wilderness to drive out any lingering robbers from the borders. Ablom took it upon himself to travel to the cities near Zarahemla to try to form a militia and prepare for future raids in that part of the land. Melek agreed to call a council of the priests in Zarahemla to propose a day of prayer and fasting to the Lord. Lachoneus knew his next task must be to find the mother of young Kimrah, the boy he had laid to rest by the boulder near the river, and console her as best he could with the knowledge that her brave son gave his life with honor.

⬥⬥⬥

Ethem! Ethem!! shouted Giddianhi.

The heavy scarlet drape that covered the entrance to the dining chamber parted almost instantly. In the dark opening stood a fat, greasy little man with a scraggly beard and a dirty apron over a grimy tunic. "At your