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Alma the Younger
Two days passed before Alma saw Kaman again. One morning he just appeared outside, as if he'd never been gone. "I knew it was you," Kaman said as he leaned against the wall of Alma's hut.
Alma blinked in the bright sun as he stepped through the door and smiled. It was good to see his friend again.
"What do you know?" Alma said, stifling a yawn. He peered closer at his friend. The man's eyes were red with exhaustion, his clothing torn, and he had ash on them.
"What happened to you? Are you all right?" Alma asked.
Kaman ignored the questions. "You brought more food to the village, didn't you? Two more deer and several tapir as well."
On instinct he shook his head but saw that Kaman had that knowing look in his eyes. "Is there something wrong?" Alma said with a shrug.
"Where are you hunting?" Kaman asked. "it's rare that a man can catch more than one beast in a day, let alone several. And wild tapirs? Very hard to hunt."
Alma stretched his neck. Sleeping on the mat was somehow more uncomfortable than sleeping in the wilds. He'd be paying for it all day. "I couldn't very well reveal that, now could I?" he sneaked a smile. "I might be thrown into prison if I did, and if I tell you, you'll be sent there too."
Kaman threw back his head and laughed. After a few seconds he sobered. "Nothing that I haven't encountered before."
Narrowing his eyes, Alma sized him up. "Where have you been, Kaman?"
Kaman let his gaze drop, then he spoke in a quiet voice. "I was at the Church court in the temple."
Alma stared at him, waiting for him to continue. He tried to imagine all sorts of scenarios as to why Kaman could have been at the Church court. "You're a member of the Church?"
"Was a member," Kaman said, lifting his face. His expression was angry. "They blotted my name from the records."
Alma exhaled, relieved he hadn't told Kaman who his family was. It was most likely his own father who'd handed down the judgment.
"No loss to me though. I could never quite accept the Church like my mother did. I guess I took after my father too much." Kaman paused, then said, "I need you to help me with something. I managed to escape my prison time and need to hide out for a little while." He withdrew a dagger from his waistband. "Can you shave my head? It would be better if my appearance changed."
Alma looked from Kaman to the blade. "What did you do?"
"Can you keep a confidence?"
Alma nodded, then Kaman told him about burning the church in the village of Piedra a week or so before as a restitution for his neglected mother.
"I didn't know about your mother. I'm sorry about her death," Alma said.
Kaman grunted, a faraway look in his eyes. "If only she'd stayed away from those Church members in the first place. She'd be heartbroken if she knew my name had been blotted out, but I'm the better for it." He focused back on Alma. "I escaped and had to hide for a couple of days. Now I'm putting together a few men to get Jacob out of there too."
Alma tried not to show his surprise that Kaman could escape from the king's guards. "Have you done this sort of thing before?"
Kaman slapped Alma on the shoulder with a laugh, nearly knocking him off balance. "All the time, my friend. It's part of protecting our own against the tyranny of the king's church."
Kaman's words struck a chord within Alma. The two might come from different backgrounds, but their ideals were the same. "All right then, let's go behind the hut and get that head shaved." He strapped on the sandals he'd left near the front door. "Then you should probably get some rest—you look terrible."
"No time for sleeping. My business is with you today. With my disguise, I'm not worried about the king's guards spotting me. Hairy Kaman is gone forever." Kaman spread his hands. "I've decided to retire from burning churches for a more noble cause. I'm at the service of the savior of our village."
"You can't mean that," Alma said, leading Kaman around the side of the hut. "I just delivered a little food to tide a few families over for a short time."
"You should have seen my children when I showed up this morning. They didn't care that I'd escaped prison or been gone two days," Kaman said, lowering his voice. His eyes brimmed with sudden moisture. "It was the food you brought. They couldn't stop talking about it. My wife thought the maize god had just walked into our home and blessed us with eternal prosperity."
Alma stared at Kaman. "That's a lot of credit to give the maize god. Isn't your wife a member of the Church?"
"No. My mother was really the only one who believed in the king's church. My father just went along with it to please her. But he never gave up his idols, just had to keep them out of the house. I sneaked them away after his death." Kaman leaned close to Alma, his voice breaking with emotion. "The strangest thing is that a couple of nights ago my wife and children made a special offering to the maize god. And the next morning when they woke up—surprise!"
"Your children will be disappointed to discover that I'm no god." Alma shook his head, surprised that an act of service could be attributed to a fictitious god. Idol worshipping had gone on ever since he could remember in Zarahemla, but he had never been friends with someone who believed in the power of the idols.
"Forget the maize god. You're more powerful than the maize god. I'm calling you the savior of our village."
Alma laughed off the suggestion.
"What?" Kaman said. "You've done more for this village—"
Alma punched Kaman's shoulder lightly. "Maybe you're worshipping the wrong god."
Kaman's face twisted. "Don't tell me you are a member of the king's church."
Alma let his hand drop, realizing he'd given too much away. He didn't want to offend his new friend either. "I—I grew up in that church, but I haven't been a part of it for some time."
The man's face relaxed. "I didn't think so, or you wouldn't have come to the tavern with me. Or spent so much time with Belicia." He smirked. "Did you know those church people have burned down taverns in almost every village surrounding Zarahemla?"
"Really?" Alma said. "Like you set their church on fire?"
Kaman drew his brows together, not understanding the irony.
"That was different—restitution for my mother is justifiable. Burning down a tavern just because they don't agree with the activities is plain hypocritical. Of course they'd never admit it, religious zealots that they are. Always preaching and judging us. They should focus on helping their own neighbors, I say. Ask themselves how they let a good woman like my mother die alone."
"I'm sorry about your mother," Alma said again.
"That's what the high priest said," Kaman said in a quiet voice. "He wasn't what I expected—not that I know any of the other priests."
Alma stiffened at the mention of his father, wondering what Kaman would think if he discovered the connection.
But Kaman plowed on. "Except I know the high priest is no different from the king, forcing his beliefs on us . . . It's contemptible." He perched on a large boulder at the edge of the back courtyard and handed his dagger to Alma. Then he bent his head forward. "Just start at the back. Take it all off."
Alma lopped off the longer sections of hair first, then using water from a goatskin, he started to shave near the scalp. When he finished, he was surprised how different Kaman looked. It gave him an idea. He returned the knife to Kaman. "Will you shave my head too?"
Kaman chuckled, taking the dagger and trading Alma places. "I guess we both have something to hide from."
* * *
Alma and Kaman wasted no time in putting a plan together to free Jacob from prison. They would strike tonight, while the surprise over Kaman's escape was still fresh.
Fortunately, Alma had already planned to meet Ammon and Aaron at the old hunting lodge on the king's preserve.
Kaman kept up with Alma as they climbed the hilly countryside on the way to the lodge. Kaman had sworn an oath not to reveal the location of the king's lodge, and Alma was satisfied with that. As they approached, Alma gave his customary bird call. Within seconds it was returned. Ammon stepped into view on the right side of the lodge.
"Wait here," Alma told Kaman. "I'll let you know if you're clear."
Alma hiked up the final hill to the lodge. Aaron was now standing next to his brother. The two eyed him with curiosity, obviously wondering why he'd shaved his head.
"Anyone else with you?" Alma asked when he reached them.
"Omner and Himni are inside, looking for something to drink," Ammon said. "What happened to your hair?"
"I'll explain in a minute," Alma said. "Let's go inside."
"Look what we found," Omner said as the men entered the lodge. He held up a large waterskin. "Leftover wine from a royal hunt." Next to him Himni grabbed for it and soon the brothers were wrestling each other.
"Enough, you two!" Ammon called out, "Alma has something to tell us."
The scuffle ended, and Himni stood, rubbing his head. "What happened to your hair?"
"I needed some disguise." Alma looked at the others. "I have a request to make of you. We could get into some trouble for this—possibly even thrown into prison. But before I tell you, I want to know if you're willing to keep what I am about to say a secret."
Ammon and Aaron both nodded. Omner and Himni looked at each other, then back at Alma, grins on their faces. "We're in," Omner said.
"Especially if it means we might be in danger of getting thrown into prison," Himni said.
"All right," Alma said. "This is very serious and requires a blood oath."
The brothers' eyes all widened, but no one protested. "First I want you to meet someone. He is completely trustworthy."
Alma moved to the door and signaled for Kaman to come to the lodge. When Kaman stepped inside, Ammon reached out to shake the man's hand. Kaman returned it with a look of surprise on his face. "You—You're the—"
"Do not reveal their names outside this circle," Alma interrupted. "Everyone, this is my friend who was wrongfully excommunicated from the Church." He explained Kaman's court trial and subsequent escape. Then he continued, "Now we need to free his friend from prison."
Alma held out his right hand, a dagger in his left. He slid the dagger across his right palm, wincing at the sting and saying, "With my blood I pledge never to reveal the members of our circle or any of our secrets." Then he passed the dagger to Ammon, who repeated Alma's words and sliced his palm. One by one they clasped each other's hands and repeated the pledge in unison.
When every man had made the blood oath, Himni asked, "Do we have to shave our heads too?"
Alma laughed. "No. Kaman just doesn't want to be easily recognized, and I don't need people reporting my whereabouts."
Kaman pulled a square of cloth from his waistband and tore it into shreds. He handed one strip to each of the men so that they could wrap their bleeding hands. After he finished binding his own hand, he said, "The people of my village want to start a new church, and we want you to lead it." He turned to Alma as he finished.
Alma looked at Kaman in surprise. "A new church?"
"You can be our church leader, help our village get the food it needs, then protect us from the king's soldiers who enforce unfair laws against the unbelievers."
Alma's mind spun, but he shook his head. "I am no leader of any church."
Kaman's eyes were filled with fire. "You would make us proud of something."
Placing a hand on Kaman's shoulder, Alma said, "You are kind. But let's focus on the present task and free our friend."
Alma's gaze swept across the lodge. "Let's prepare now; it will be dark soon."
Less than an hour later, the men crept along the ridge that over- looked the city prison. It had been built into the side of a hill west of the market square.
The sky was nearly black, all touches of twilight faded. Alma looked at his companions. Each of them had smeared black charcoal on their faces. If it weren't for their clothing, he wouldn't be able to tell them apart.
Omner and Himni couldn't wipe the grins off of their faces. They were full of energy, and Alma worried they'd make too much noise. So he stationed them along the ridge. "If you see anyone coming, give the signal," Alma told them.
The two brothers nodded vigorously, gripping their knives tightly. Aaron took his post on the hillside just above the roofline of the prison. The other three men made their way silently down the hill until they were parallel with the prison entrance.
"Two guards," Ammon whispered. "We'll have to take both down and give one of us enough time to release Jacob."
"How many prisoners are inside?" Alma asked Kaman.
"Maybe three or four when I was thrown in—all in different cells."
"Do you think you can find Jacob without disturbing the others?"
"Yes."
Alma turned to Ammon. "You and I will have to silence the guards before they can raise the alarm. We'll have to attack at the same time."
Ammon nodded, and the three moved closer to the prison, keeping their bodies crouched as low as possible. The closer they got, the more Alma realized the prison entrance was too much in the open. There were no nearby trees or brush to give them cover. His gaze moved across the prison, studying the roof.
He motioned for Ammon and Kaman to look upward. Ammon's brow furrowed as he understood what Alma wanted to do, but then he nodded and followed Alma up the slope a little farther.
The two scaled the side of the prison, moving quietly and quickly. Alma's cut hand throbbed as he gripped the outer stone wall to pull himself upward. He reached the roof first, then held his hand out to help Ammon up the last few paces.
Both men caught their breath, then Alma looked for the others to make sure they were still in position. The narrow gleam of the moonlight provided just enough light for Alma to spot the men—although it would have been nearly impossible for another to do so if they weren't looking for figures in the dark.
Below, the guards' voices rose into the night. They were discussing some women they'd met in the marketplace that morning. One guard yawned and moved away, walking back to his post. Each guard had a crude stone bench to sit on, but mostly they paced back and forth in front of the prison entrance, exchanging stories.
With Ammon by his side, Alma watched and listened to the guards, looking for any weaknesses. His heart pounded as he thought about actually fighting someone. He'd wrestled with his friends and trained in fighting with the king's sons, but these guards were trained to kill. His fist closed around the knife at his waist, gripping it, then releasing it.
Finally he leaned over to Ammon and whispered, "We'll wait until they are at opposite ends of the prison, then we'll both make the jump."
Ammon nodded and slowly scooted to the closest edge of the roof. Alma made his way to the far side and perched near the edge. From this corner, he could see Kaman crouched and waiting. Alma alternated watching Ammon and the guards below, then finally he signaled, holding up three fingers, then two, then one.
With a sharp inhale, Alma leapt to his feet and jumped off the roof, his arms outstretched. The guard looked up just as Alma made contact, his cry cut off as he was driven to the ground. Alma shook off the pain from the impact and straddled the guard, reaching for his neck. With one arm pinning the guard down, he swung at the man's face with his right fist. The guard's nose cracked under the blow, and the guard cried out, then his body went limp.
Alma withdrew his knife, holding it against the guard's neck, waiting for him to wake up. But the guard didn't move. At the other end of the prison, Ammon was making fast work of the second guard. Alma removed the set of keys hanging on a cord around the man's neck, then held them up for the dark figure rushing toward him. Kaman snatched the keys and hurried past Alma, then into the prison.
He removed the length of rope hidden in his waistband and proceeded to tie the guard's hands and feet, then he shoved a piece of cloth into the man's mouth. It wouldn't hold for long once the guard woke up, but it might buy them a few more minutes.
A scuffling sound reached Alma's ears, and he looked up. Ammon had dragged over his bound and gagged guard. Together, they dragged both guards from the prison to the hillside, leaving them among the brush.
Then screaming came from the prison—it was so loud that he feared it might be heard to the residential areas. Alma's skin went cold. Ammon's gaze met his, and the two of them ran for the prison entrance.
It was even darker inside, and Alma bumped into Ammon. There was a long row of cells, most occupied by men pressed against the bars. They were all yelling, screaming, or cheering—Alma wasn't sure yet. Then he saw the reason.
Another guard had been inside the prison, and he had Kaman by the throat. The two men were on the ground, struggling viciously, but Kaman was getting the worst of it. Without another thought, Alma threw himself on the back of the guard, wrapping his arm around the man's neck and pulling him off Kaman. The guard reared up and slammed against Alma's chest. They toppled to the ground together. Above the screaming, Ammon was yelling something. Alma avoided a blow from the guard and turned his head toward Ammon.
"Which one is he?" Ammon yelled again.
Alma jerked back, avoiding another swing from the guard. The blow went wild, catching his forearm. He looked for Kaman, who was prostrate on the ground, then he looked at the screaming prisoners, waving their hands through the bars. Seeing Jacob in the mix, Alma shouted, "The second from the end!"
A fist made contact with the side of his face, and he fell back to the ground. His mind clouded for an instant, then the pain cleared it again. The guard gripped his neck, pressing with all his strength. The man's eyes were bulging with anger, and Alma knew he wouldn't offer any mercy. His chest heaved as the air was cut off. He tried to push against the guard, but the man had the advantage. In a desperate attempt, he reached for the knife at his waistband, and his hand closed around the hilt.
The guard's eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed onto Alma.
The breath left Alma, and he flailed beneath the guard's weight. The pressure released, and Alma looked up to see Kaman dragging the unconscious guard off him.
With a groan, Alma sat up, his head pounding.
"Let's get out of here," Kaman said as he deposited the guard in the corner. He hurried over and pulled Alma to his feet. Jacob was out of the cell, next to Ammon. Beyond them, the guard was still motionless. Alma didn't want to consider whether the man was alive or dead.
They fled the prison, away from the pleading prisoners, and started climbing the hill. As they cleared the prison, Aaron was at their side, asking if everyone was all right.
Alma could only nod. His throat felt as if the guard were still squeezing the life out of it. But they couldn't stop to rest. The noise from the prisoners would draw attention soon enough.
They scurried up the hill where Omner and Himni stood guard, and Jacob made the rounds, embracing each man and thanking him over and over.
"You said you would do it, Kaman. I should have had more faith in you. I owe you my life." Jacob's eyes gleamed with emotion.
"I didn't even recognize you at first with your face blackened." He looked at the others. "Who are your new friends?"
"We'll make introductions later," Kaman said, his voice gruff with exhaustion and emotion.
The shouting continued from the prison, and Alma knew it wouldn't be long now until the break-in was discovered. The men hurried along the ridge then down the other side. It would take them the better part of the night to return to the Isidro village.
When they had made sufficient progress, Alma stopped the brothers. "We must separate here so your father is not suspicious of your absence."
Jacob embraced the brothers again. "Whoever you are, I owe you my life. If you need anything, I am your servant."
Ammon pulled away from Jacob. "It has been an adventure."
Jacob peered at him. "Will you tell me your name so that I can thank you properly?"
"A friend of Alma's is a friend of ours," Ammon said and held out his palm, still wrapped with a bandage. Aaron and the other brothers did the same, along with Alma.
Kaman joined in, and understanding dawned in Jacob's eyes. Kaman handed him a knife, and Jacob cut his own palm with a sharp intake of breath. "With my blood, I pledge to keep everyone's identity a secret and never reveal what happened on this night." He gripped each man's hand in turn, his blood soaking into their bandages. Then he turned and allowed Kaman to wrap his hand with cloth.
Ammon stepped forward and introduced himself, followed by each brother.
Jacob's mouth hung open as he stared at the royal princes. "You are the king's own sons? You broke me out of prison? Why?"
"Alma asked us to help you," Ammon said. The other princes nodded.
Jacob shook his head, disbelief etched across his face. "I am most honored, your highnesses. I am forever in your debt." He knelt to the ground, his head bowed.
"Stand up, my friend," Ammon said, touching Jacob's shoulder. "We are all equal in this circle. No one pays subservience to anyone else."
Jacob rose, speaking in a trembling voice. "I have never felt such honor in all my days."
Alma moved forward, looking at the brothers. "You must go quickly—be sure to clean your faces before anyone can see you."
Ammon nodded and clasped Alma's hand. "Be careful."
The brothers left amidst more platitudes from Jacob.
As Alma started out again toward the village, he noticed Kaman lagging behind, limping badly. He moved back to his friend, but Kaman waved him off. "I'll be fine. It's just a knife wound."
Alma made him sit on a rock, and he and Jacob inspected the man's injuries. He had a deep gash in his upper thigh. Alma tore a strip of cloth from his own tunic and wrapped Kaman's leg wound. "This will hold until we can get you more help at the village."
Kaman grimaced as he stood again but refused anyone's help. He moved a bit easier now, but it was obvious he was in quite a bit of pain.
Just as dawn softened the dark sky, they reached the road leading to the village. "One more hill to climb," Alma said. "Both of you can stay in my hut, and I'll go fetch the healer."
Halfway up the hill, Alma paused. The air seemed heavy, the silence too deep. No birds or roosters made a sound in the early dawn.
That's when they saw the smoke.