Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
THE RADIANT CITY,
AN ALLEGORY
BY
EVELYN R. GARRATT,
AUTHOR OF "The Cry," "The Old Square Pew," "Meg of the Heather," etc.
WITH PREFACE
BY THE
REV. PREBENDARY FOX.
Third Edition (Second Impression).
Tenth Thousand.
IPSWICH: SMITHS, PUBLISHERS, SUITALL.
LONDON: SIMPKIN MARSHALL, AND ALL BOOKSELLERS.
1924.
(Copyright.)
THE RADIANT CITY.
First Edition, Nov. 3, 1911, First Thousand.
Second Edition, Aug. 1, 1913, Third Thousand.
Third Edition, 2/-, May 2, 1922, Fifth Thousand.
Fourth Edition, Edition de Luxe, 2/6, Jan. 21, 1923.
Third Edition (Second Impression), 2/-, Sept. 20, 1924, Tenth Thousand.
Fifth Edition, Illustrated, 3/-, Oct. 1, 1924.
SMITHS,
PRINTERS, BOOKBINDERS, AND PUBLISHERS.
SUITALL, IPSWICH.
PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.
Though the following pages, at the first glance, naturally recall the famous allegory, which after two and a half centuries is still a world-wide classic, the reader will at once perceive an originality of treatment and an adaptation to modern conditions which give Miss Garratt's book a character and usefulness of its own. The writer shows an intelligent perception of the spiritual dangers in the present day, and describes how they may be met by the same weapons as those which gave the victory so often to Christian and Faithful. The characters are drawn with skill, and the dangers which befall the travellers on their way to the Radiant City, are those which probably the conscience of every reader will recognize. An important and valuable feature is the constant reference to the "Guide Book." It has just the teaching to be put into the hands of young people entering life, and yet has ample lessons for their elders.
H. E. Fox.
"It shone with a radiance like that of a very precious
stone, such as Jasper, bright and transparent."
—Rev. xxi. II. (Weymouth Version).
"Fight the good fight with all thy might,
Christ is thy strength, and Christ thy right,
Lay hold on life, and it shall be
Thy joy and crown eternally."
"Run the straight race through God's good grace,
Lift up thine eyes and seek His face,
Life with its way before us lies,
Christ is the path, and Christ the prize."
CONTENTS.
[CHAPTER III. THE KING'S MARK]
[CHAPTER IV. DONNING THE ARMOUR]
[CHAPTER V. ENEMIES OF THE ROAD]
[CHAPTER VI. THE BATTLE OF THE BOOK]
[CHAPTER VII. THE LAND OF ENCHANTMENT]
[CHAPTER VIII. STRAYING FROM THE PATH]
[CHAPTER IX. A FIERCE CONFLICT]
[CHAPTER X. THE PASSING OF HEMAN]
[CHAPTER XII. DANGEROUS HEIGHTS]
[CHAPTER XIII. THE CROSS IN THE VALLEY]
[CHAPTER XIV. THE LAND OF INDIFFERENCE]
[CHAPTER XVI. THE BRINK OF THE RIVER]
[CHAPTER XVII. "TILL HE COME"]
THE RADIANT CITY.
[CHAPTER I.]
THE BANQUET
Darkness had settled down upon the town of Punon.* The streets, which were crowded with men and women, were only lit by unsatisfactory lamps, which made the darkness more visible, and cast gloomy shadows on every side. The sound of revelry which issued from open doors was in strange contrast with the sad gloomy faces of many of the passers-by.
Some looked hopeless and dreary, as if no gleam of sunshine had ever penetrated their souls; others wore an expression of deep despair, which did not change even when the passers-by looked at them with amusement, flinging a derisive laugh after them as they twitted them with their misery. For among the many were those who did not seem conscious of the gloom, or were indifferent to it, and these went by gaily chatting, intent on their business or pleasure.
* Darkness.
A sound of music and revelry issued from the window of a large building in one of the principal streets, and through the open door could be seen a number of people seated around a table laden with luxuries of all kinds, and gleaming with silver and glass.
At its head sat a young man whose expression of face did not exactly harmonize with his gay surroundings, or with the words that fell from his lips, for the words were full of mirth and jollity, and caused hilarious laughter from the assembled guests, among whom he was evidently a favourite. There was an amount of daring in his conversation that made the elders occasionally shake their heads as if only half approving of what they heard, but which caused cheers of approbation from the younger members of the community.
"Amer is not improving," said one of the guests in a low voice to his neighbour, "and now that he is on his way to make such a fortune no doubt he will grow more arrogant than he is already."
"Nevertheless, he is a nice fellow, and a great favourite," answered the one addressed, "and he has a generous hand so that he will share his fortune with his friends. There is something taking about the lad."
"I don't understand him," said the first speaker, "his face belies his words, from his conversation you would think him the happiest man alive, but his eyes tell a different tale."
His friend sighed heavily.
"Is there truly a happy man in this dark place?" he asked sadly, "to my mind all is vanity and vexation of spirit."
"Away with pessimism," cried the other, "look! our host demands silence while he delivers himself of the speech which if I mistake not he has been preparing for the occasion ever since he came of age. Hark! what is he saying?"
But the lad's first words were drowned by the prolonged cheers and clanging of the glasses of his guests, and he had to wait patiently for a hearing. And when at last the speech was made it was disappointing to some who had expected greater things from the speaker. He was evidently not in good form, for he paused again and again with a far away look in his eyes as if he heard some voice calling him, and had difficulty in concentrating his attention. As he closed however with a joke amid the cheers of his companions, there was suddenly a dead silence, as across the street came the loud and piercing sound of a trumpet.
"It is the herald again," someone exclaimed.
"Aye, It is the herald! He won't leave us alone, what do we want with him here?" grumbled another.
"He's enough to throw a gloom over the merriest feast," cried a third.
"Right you are. I could not sleep the other night for thinking of his prophecies about Punon. All are doomed to death who stay here," said the first speaker.
"We need not believe every fool who prates," cried Amer, "come and let's hear the man again and get some fun by questioning him as to the truth of his words."
"'Why, Amer, I began to think you half believed in him," laughed one of his companions as a stir began and a hasty exit was made from the house.
The herald was standing in the market-place.
"Come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord," he cried.
Amer found his way to the front of the crowd in the masterful manner that was natural to him, his satellites surrounding him on every side.
And then began a volley of mocking questions and raillery, led by Amer and his companions, and aided by the lighter spirits among those present. Some of the questions the herald answered quietly and patiently, others he answered not at all, but stood and looked at the young men with sorrow and deep compassion written across his face. At last seeing that the people were demoralized by this band of intruders, he turned quietly away, saying in a solemn voice that rang loud and clear above the noise of the crowd—
"Come out from among them and be ye separate, saith the Lord."
Slowly the crowd broke up, and Amer's friends parted from him with laughter and congratulations as to the success of his banquet, leaving him at last to find his way home alone.
"Come out from among them and be ye separate, saith the Lord."
The words rang in the lad's head. The feast, his companions, the fun, all forgotten: the words, together with the gentle sternness of the face of the herald, alone filling his mind.
"Ah!" he cried, "It is the Voice again. I hoped it was stifled! I will not listen."
But the words would not leave him alone.
Amer had heard them the day before, from the lips of the herald, who had looked him straight in the face with his penetrating eyes, and they had cast a strange kind of spell over him. He had hoped that his coming of age feast would have dispelled the remembrance of them, but even in the middle of the speech, with which he had taken such pains, the Voice had been heard, causing him to stammer and forget what he had intended to say.
The Voice was insistent, compelling.
Suddenly a sweet vision met his eyes.
At the gate of a house he was passing stood a young girl dressed in white, who, at the sight of him, ran forward with outstretched hands.
"Amer," she cried, "have you had a happy day, has the feast gone off well?"
For the moment, at the touch of her hands and the sight of her sweet eyes, even the Voice was forgotten, and Amer eagerly told her of the delight of his companions and of the nice words they had said to him, but in answering her eager questions as to his speech, he paused in slight confusion.
"No," he said, "I did not excel as I had hoped. It was lame and I was hesitating."
"But why?" cried Gabrielle, "when you rehearsed it to me you never paused for a word; how was it, Amer?"
"I will tell you some day," he answered, "perhaps to-morrow."
He had an instinctive feeling that Gabrielle would not understand him or sympathize with his strange thoughts.
Gabrielle pouted, but his refusal was soon forgotten and they walked towards the house hand in hand.
Her eyes shone as stars in the gloom and her smile was better than sunshine to the lad who loved her with his whole soul. So happy was he in her presence that the sad forebodings that had interfered even with the joy of his feast were forgotten. They talked of the doings of the day; of to-morrow, when he was to be made partner in a great business transaction which promised an immense return; of the possibility of soon being able to fix upon the day which was to crown their love and to make them man and wife; and at last, with a joyful wave of the hand, he parted from her, crying—
"To-morrow, Gabrielle, we will meet again, to-morrow."
But no sooner had he left her to make his way towards his own home than his gay spirits departed, and the sound of the Voice seemed to thunder in his ear—
"Come out from among them and be ye separate, saith the Lord."
Suddenly Amer turned round and making his way back towards the market-place, he enquired where he could find the herald.
[CHAPTER II.]
THE VOICE.
"The boy is mad," cried Anthony Hershall, bringing down his fist with an angry movement on to his knee, "the herald has turned his head."
"What is it?" asked his wife anxiously, as she looked up at her husband, who had just come in from his ride and had sat down heavily on the large chair by the fire.
"What is it?" he repeated fiercely, "why he refuses to have anything to do with the business I have bought for him, and declares he must start at once for the Radiant City. Radiant City, indeed! Why everyone knows that the herald is no true prophet; there is no such place. Belief in it has long ago vanished."
"It is only a passing fancy of the boy's," said his wife, "he said something to me about it last night, but I made little of it, and told him to get rid of the nonsense as soon as he could. He won't be driven, Anthony; we can only persuade him. It has been so with him ever since he was a child; the boy will not be talked out of it."
"Aye, he was always a stubborn lad and went his own way; but this is passing all bounds, after the trouble I have taken to set him up in life, and with the prospect of making a large fortune."
"Has he scruples about the business, then?"
"Scruples? He says he will have nothing to do with it; that he would be getting rich at the expense of other men's souls, or some such nonsense. Besides which he is starting out at once for the Radiant City."
"He won't do that," said his wife, smiling, "he won't leave Gabrielle, and certainly Gabrielle is not one to go on that mad journey with him. She is too fond of Punon. Do not fear, Anthony. The boy is devoted heart and soul to Gabrielle, and nothing would induce him to give her up."
"Mark my word, she will go with him. A woman is easily persuaded by the man she loves."
"Gabrielle is much too fond of her comforts and luxuries to give them up even for Amer. She loves herself better than him; I have noticed this in a hundred ways. No, she will never start on that long and hazardous journey, and if the boy does he will have to go without her. It will be hard for him, poor lad, if he keeps to his resolution, but he won't."
Half comforted, her husband rose up, determined to seek his son once more and to bring before him all the strongest arguments he could think of to turn his mind before it was too late.
His wife let her work drop on to her knee after he had left the room, and her eyes peered out into the twilight with a somewhat mournful expression in them.
So Amer, poor boy, was going through all the agony of mind that had once been hers. Once, long, long ago, she herself had heard the Voice. The remembrance of strange longings, strange fears, began to haunt her soul. She had believed in the Radiant City in those days, and had more than once made up her mind to journey towards it, but something had always come in the way to induce her to put off the decision; some important engagement in the town which she felt she could not give up; some friend who had influenced her to postpone thinking about it for at least a month or two; some occupation which she could not forsake even for the Radiant City; and finally her husband had come across her path, and the thought of him, her love for him, had at first put the subject out of her mind, and when after a while she mentioned to him that she had thought of setting out for the Radiant City before her marriage, he laughed at her, telling her that great and wise people had come to the conclusion that there was no such place, and that those who set out for it were only following a mirage and would be disappointed at last. Was this true? Was there no Radiant City? Was the City of Punon the only reality? Or was Amer right and her husband wrong?
"Mother," said a voice by her side, "has my father told you of my decision?"
"Yes, dear lad," she answered, "but I am not going to think about it, it cannot be. You could not give up all your bright prospects, specially after the pains your father has taken to secure them for you."
"But I have heard the Voice, Mother, and I must obey."
"I heard the Voice once, Amer, and almost made up my mind to set out on the journey myself. But had I done so I should have lost a great deal that makes life delightful to me, and I should have had to start out alone. So will you my boy. Gabrielle will not go with you. You will have to leave her behind."
A spasm of pain crossed the boy's face.
"You do not know that, Mother," he said, "I have hopes of Gabrielle."
"I have none," answered his Mother quietly.
"She loves me," said Amer, "and I know I have influence with her. I believe she will set out on the journey with me."
"I think not," said his Mother.
Amer answered nothing, for so much did he believe in his love for the girl and in her love for him that he felt it would be easy work for him to persuade her.
"Mother," he said, turning the subject, "do you never long for the sunshine? Punon is dark. I have only noticed it since the herald came and pointed it out to me. How few people there are with sunlight on their faces. I do not know one. And are you not afraid to disobey the Voice as it is the Voice of the Great King of the Radiant City?"
"I used to be afraid," answered his Mother, "and used to long passionately for light and sunshine. But all those longings have fled. I never think of them now. And besides, do you not know that a very large number of our cleverest men have given out the fact that there is no Radiant City and no Great King of the Radiant City? They seem to say that it is only very simple souls that trouble about such things. Amer," she said earnestly, "don't let your Mother have the grow of having it said that her son is a simple, unlike other young men of his age. I have always thought of you with such pride. There is not another Mother that I know who has a son to be more proud of than I. You are the most popular young man in this part of Punon, but once decide to start on that long journey and your popularity will be gone. Men will talk of you with a laugh and a shrug of the shoulder. You will be treated as mad. Think of your Mother, my boy."
"Dear Mother," said the boy sadly, "you will break my heart, but even you cannot make me forget the Voice. I am hearing it continually, and I must obey; besides, I have had such an account given me of the King, that I cannot rest till I am on my journey towards Him. He is the one I have been looking for for years, and Who alone can satisfy the longings of my heart. I am taking Him as my King to-day and I am starting out on my journey to-day. Mother, won't you listen to the Voice and come with me?"
"You dare to break my heart?" said his Mother sternly, "you reward your father's labour for you in getting you this good post in this way?"
"My King must come first," answered the boy, sorrowfully but firmly.
"I think you will find that Gabrielle comes first," was his mother's answer.
"I will go and seek Gabrielle," said Amer. He found her in the honey-suckle arbour of her father's garden. She did not receive him with the same sweet smile as usual: Amer felt instinctively that already the thought of the Radiant City lay between them and estranged them.
"Gabrielle," he said. She moved slightly away from him.
"I have heard strange things about you," she said coldly, "you refuse to take up the post which your father has found for you. Your love for me cannot be so great as you have led me to suppose. My father will not allow me to have anything to do with a man who cannot support his wife."
"You have heard then that I am setting out for the Radiant City?" he questioned.
"I have heard some such nonsense," she answered, turning away her face from his steady gaze, "but you will have to chose between the Radiant City and me, for I will not have a husband who is the laughing stock of everyone, you are mad to give up this post."
"You will have a husband who is more worth having," he answered, "and you will come with me."
The idea was so amusing to the girl that she turned round and laughed at him.
"The journey would not suit me," she said, "neither would the company," and she threw a defiant look up at him; "think of me enduring the hardships which they say await pilgrims to the Radiant City; I should be frightened to death with it all. Besides," she added, with a spice of coquetry in her eyes, "the company would be dull."
Amer looked down upon her with a mystified expression of face. "You do not love me enough then to be willing to leave all besides?" he asked.
"Not if you go on this pilgrimage. Already I find you different to what you were before you heard the herald. You used to say then that you would follow me to the end of Punon, but now you wish me to follow you out of it, you do not love me as you used to do."
In a minute Amer was on his knees beside her, telling her in passionate language that his love was even stronger than it used to be, that it was as strong as death.
"Then," said Gabrielle, "prove it and give up these ridiculous fancies of yours. Why should you set yourself up as better than other people? Think of the many who have gone in for this business; you do not suppose that you are better than they?"
"No," said Amer, "but I have heard the Voice."
"Oh don't," she cried, "when you talk like that I am afraid of you."
"Have you never heard it?"
Gabrielle wrenched her hands from his and covered her pretty little ears with them.
"No, no," she cried, "and I don't want to. If Punon is really doomed, there is still plenty of time. I will not hear the Voice; I could not endure the hardships."
"But the King, I am told, takes care of all those who start on the journey, and at the end we shall see Him in His beauty."
"There is no King and no Radiant City," exclaimed the girl petulantly, "no one believes in that story now; and you have not really heard a Voice; it is only in your imagination."
"But I have heard the Voice," persisted Amer.
"Oh don't," cried Gabrielle, "I begin to hate you when you say these things, we had better part, Amer. I could not have a husband who frightens me by his mad talk, and who insists upon taking me this long journey. I will not go, you must choose between the Radiant City of your dreams and me."
"Must I then go alone?" Amer rose as he said these words, and stood looking down upon her with such tenderness in his face that Gabrielle repented of her hard words.
"No," she said, stretching out her hands towards him, "you must not go alone, you must not go at all. I want you Amer, and cannot do without you; you must stay with me. You say you love me; love me enough then to forget the Radiant City and to stay and work for me; you will not, you cannot leave me."
And standing there looking into her sweet eyes, which were now suffused with love, Amer felt that he could not leave her.
"You shall be my Radiant City," he cried, "I will live and work for you."
[CHAPTER III.]
THE KING'S MARK.
For some weeks Amer resolutely put away the thought of the Radiant City, and would not listen to the Voice. In fact the Voice seemed, when he heard it at all, to be very far away, and he began to wonder how it was that its sound had ever stirred his soul.
His new work, the thought that every day he was piling up money for the support of Gabrielle, together with the society of his old companions, filled his thoughts and his days, and if ever the remembrance of the step he had so nearly taken, intruded, he flung it aside.
But was it his fancy that his Mother's face now and then wore an expression almost of disappointment when she looked at him? Was it fancy that even Gabrielle did not treat him in exactly the same manner as formerly? She looked up to him as above her in the old days, falling in with his suggestions, and following, in a great measure, his advice. But it seemed now as if there was sometimes a tinge of scorn in her words, as if he had fallen from some pedestal upon which she had placed him.
During the day he was able to banish these thoughts and suspicions from his mind by the means of business or pleasure. But at night he would lie awake pondering over it, and at times a great loathing of himself took possession of him. He despised his want of decision. He had been weak, and had turned his back upon the enduring of hardships.
Moreover the thought of the business he had undertaken lay at times like a dead weight on his spirit.
Gradually there came a great depression over him, and he began to wonder if his soul would ever be stirred to its depths again by the sound of the Voice, and if ever again he would be given the chance of journeying towards the Radiant City.
So great was his depression and his loathing of himself, that one day he started off to try and find the herald, but he was told that he had left Punon some weeks ago. Despondently Amer made his way home, but he could not rest. He went about his work listlessly, and gradually his old companions began to drop off from him. He was not as good company as he used to be.
"Amer is not himself," said his father, "he is working too hard." But Amer suddenly found out that what was making him so restless and stirring his apparently dead soul again, was the Voice.
"Come out from among them," it cried, "and be ye separate." Was it his imagination? Was it fancy?
He was so miserable and so conscious of the sinfulness of himself and the unsatisfactoriness of his life, that after much agony of soul, he determined, even if it might be nothing but a morbid imagination, to start out for the Radiant City.
Even if there was such a place, he had no very strong hopes that he would be allowed to enter it. The Great King, if there was a King, might not care to have him after his resolute turning aside before. But, notwithstanding his doubts, he decided to venture, and should there be a King, to throw himself on His mercy.
This time, so miserable was he, and so full of fear that he might be shut out of the Radiant City, that he thought it was worth bearing scorn and laughter, if only he might start out on his journey. The one thing he now shrank from was losing Gabrielle, for he could not deceive himself for a moment about her. She was set against all mention of the Radiant City, and he knew right well that when he started on his journey he would have to give her up. He spent nights of anguish over the thought of this, but his fears lest he was too late to be accepted as a citizen of the Blessed City were growing so great, that even the thought of Gabrielle could not make him swerve from his resolution. Remembering however, his former conduct, and fearing lest his parents might not take his decision seriously, he determined to start on his journey without talking it over with them. But to Gabrielle he boldly mentioned it. Her answer was a derisive laugh.
"I shall believe it when you have started," she said, "and when you start we part for ever."
Saddened and almost despairing, Amer made his way towards the East Gate, which he remembered he had been told was the gate through which he would have to start.
But on nearing it he noticed that it was closed. Anxiously he looked around him and saw a man coming towards him.
"Sir," said Amer, "can you tell me if this is the way to the Radiant City, and how the gate is to be opened?"
"Why do you want to know, my lad?" asked the stranger.
"Because I am in great trouble of mind, and am bent on escaping from this dark place. But I do not know how I can be sure that I shall be allowed to make the journey, as I have so long put it off."
"What is your trouble," asked the stranger.
"I am my own trouble," he replied, "I have resolutely shut my ears to the Voice, and have spent much of my short life in folly and sin; and now my heart will not let me rest. My sins are such that I am unable to look up. Sir, are you able to give me comfort?"
The stranger pointed to some words carved on the stone above the gate which Amer had not noticed:—
"'Come unto Me all ye that are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest.'"
"That is the message of the Great King to you, my lad," he said.
"To me!" murmured Amer, astonished.
"Yes, to you. To all that need Him, to all who have sinned and want His forgiveness, to all that hope in His mercy, to all who feel themselves to be miserable sinners and to need a Saviour."
"I am that sinner," cried Amer, "'I have gone astray like a sheep that is lost.' Let me through that I may start at once for the Radiant City, so that I may fall at the feet of my King and thank Him for His mercy."
"You cannot go through that gate without the King's Mark," said the stranger, "It is a Cross, a Cross of Blood, which you will wear always on your forehead.* This is the key which alone will open the gate for you, and it is your talisman for your journey."
"What does it mean?"
"It means that you belong to the Great King; that He has set His own mark upon you; that He has washed away your sins with His own Blood; that you are forgiven; that His angels will be about your path; that you have but to cry out and the King Himself will hear you and deliver you."
"And must everyone who starts on his journey wear this sign?"
"No one can even start on this journey without it. The gate will not open unless this sign be worn."
"Sir, give me the key," cried Amer, "that I may at once begin my journey."
"Nay," said the stranger, "man cannot give you the key, neither can man open the gate. It must be done by the King Himself, I am but His ambassador."
"Must I wait, then?" asked Amer, sadly.
* Eph. 1, 7. S. John 14, 6.
"Nay, not a moment," said the stranger, "the King is even waiting to let you through the gate and has been waiting for years. Aye, He is rejoicing to-day in the Radiant City because He sees you coming to Him. 'There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth.'"
"But," asked Amer, perplexed, "I do not see the King and how am I to open the gate?"
"The King sees you," answered the stranger, "and that is what signifies. All you have to do is to obey the words above the gate, 'Come unto Me.' You will find as you enter the porch, the gate will fly open and the King Himself will mark you for His own. You have simply to take Him at His word."
Then with great joy Amer went forward, and as he passed through the portal, the gate opened, the King's mark was placed upon his brow, and he found himself on the other side in a blaze of light and glory. So wonderful was the change from the dark city he had left behind, and such a peace stole into his heart, that he could only fall on his knees and worship and praise the invisible King, Who had taken away his burden and his misery.
"I will thank Thee, O Lord my God," he cried, "with all my heart: and will praise Thy name for evermore. For great is Thy mercy toward me: and Thou hast delivered my soul from the nethermost hell."
[CHAPTER IV.]
DONNING THE ARMOUR.
It was as if in a dream that Amer rose up again and looked about him. A very large expanse of country lay around him; hills and valleys, rivers and lakes, trees under which to rest, and far, far away, almost too far for eye to see, a haze of golden glory fascinated his eyes.
"The City!" he cried under his breath.
He turned and looked for a moment at the town of Punon that he had left behind, and was appalled to see its gloom. He had never realized its darkness to such an extent before. He could hear the faint sound of revelry, and caught a distant sight of its flickering torch-lights, but he shivered as he looked at it, and turned again with joy to face the East, in which direction the Radiant City lay. He shouted for very gladness of heart. He felt as if he had wings, and imagined that the journey to the City could be nothing but joy. The way looked easy and beautiful. No rough stones or rocky passes could he see, and every step he took seemed to bring him higher, and the breezes blew fresher.
Suddenly he became conscious of the presence of the Ambassador.
"My lad," he said, "you will need a guide book to show you the way. It must be your constant companion. There will be enemies on the road who will make every effort to take it from you, but you must lose anything rather than the Book. If you give up the Book you are lost, and will never find your way to the City. It is your most precious possession."
Amer eagerly took the Book from the Ambassador's hand, and opened its pages at once to read.
He was surprised at the words that met his eyes. They spoke of a great enemy that he would meet, and of the necessity of wearing armour so as to be able to wrestle against "'principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.'" It spoke also of the "'fiery darts of the wicked.'"
Amer looked up into the Ambassador's face with a look of perplexity on his own.
"I do not understand the Guide Book," he said, "It speaks of enemies, and I see none."
"The first part of the way is often easy," answered the Ambassador. "There was once a people who started on a journey to a land flowing with milk and honey, and the Great King to whom they belonged led them a long way round, in order that they might not meet the enemy too soon, and so be discouraged and turn back. But you never know when the enemy will be upon you, and you must be clad in the King's armour."
"Where is it to be had?"
"It is lying at your feet," answered the Ambassador.
No sooner did Amer see the armour than he began to don it.
"It must never on any account be laid aside," said the Ambassador, "the great enemy is on the watch, and if ever you lay it aside he will take advantage of you."
"What is the enemy like?" asked Amer earnestly, "and what is his name?"
"His name is the Devil," answered the Ambassador, "and his servants are legion. It is not very likely that you will have to confront the Devil himself, as you are too small and insignificant. But should you grow into a very useful and powerful servant of the Great King, should you in the future fight many of His enemies and give help on the road to many of His servants, it is possible that the great enemy may attack you in person, and then woe to you if your sword has grown rusty, or if you are not wearing your armour."
"Will the road become more difficult and more dangerous as I near the Radiant City?" asked Amer.
"I do not know. Everyone is not led in exactly the same path, even though they are all going to the Radiant City, and so in the same direction. Some, I think, have their worst fights at the beginning, others in the middle of their course, some are fighting up to the very end, even as they cross the river. But I think, probably, it is the best soldiers and the most valiant who have to fight then. The great enemy will not leave them alone, and makes every effort to prevent them crossing into the Radiant City; the more valiant the soldier the harder the fight."
"I mean to be a valiant soldier, and will never turn my back to the foe," said Amer.
"My son," answered the Ambassador, "be on the watch! I already see an enemy in the long grass close at your side, although you perceive him not his name is Boastful. He does not look formidable, and is so small that you may be inclined to despise him."
Amer smiled incredulously, but before he had turned round to look behind him, he felt a knock on his shoulder which gave him pain, and in a minute he was lying prone on the ground, while a small creature stood a few yards in front of him grinning at him triumphantly.
Amer sprang up dismayed and ashamed of having been so easily overcome by such an insignificant enemy, but when once on his feet he found he was alone. He remembered then that he had been struck on the back, and that there was no armour provided for the back. He pondered over this, and the next time he met the Ambassador he asked him how this was.
"It is probably to show you that you must ever be ready to face the foe. You must keep such a watch that you cannot be taken by surprise; and you must never show fear and fly. If once you turn your back to the enemy, either through carelessness or fear, woe to you."
"I begin to think the way is not as easy as I thought," said Amer, sadly.
After this mishap, Amer began to walk more carefully, and kept a watch over Boastful and other foes, who, because so small of stature, were not easily detected.
One of these enemies was a most offensive little man of the name of Irritability, who, if Amer set his foot on a slippery stone, or if the heat of the sun was unusual, or the wind piercing as it swept across the plain, would suddenly fly at the young soldier, and give him a blow on the mouth.
And Amer found that this worrying sprite often prepared the way for a much more formidable enemy, a relation of his called Temper; and that Temper was the name of a family composed of three brothers, each one more disagreeable and objectionable than the last.
The youngest of these brothers would walk doggedly and silently beside his victim with a great gloom on his face, and every hour that he was allowed to remain he grew more morose, and finally would cling on to his coat, so acting as a drag. His name was Sulks, and he was the most difficult of the three to get rid of, unless he was snubbed the moment he arrived.
The second brother was a very dangerous fellow, for he was perpetually handing daggers to his victim, urging him to do his work for him. His name was Revenge.
But the eldest of the three worried Amer the most. When the lad had lived in Punon he had had to do with him, and was surprised to meet him so often on his journey to the Radiant City. While in Punon, Amer had thought little of him, and had not looked on him exactly as an enemy, in fact he had more than once found him useful there, for being somewhat tall and imposing looking, and moreover of a fierce expression of countenance, people had been afraid of Amer when they found him in the company of this enemy, whose name was Passionate; consequently the lad had more than once got his way with others simply on account of the fear of his companion. But once having started on his journey to the Radiant City, Amer felt he must entirely give up his company, and was surprised and mortified that this enemy was not so easily disposed of as he had imagined. It was true that his visits did not last so long as formerly, but long enough to make Amer's fellow travellers who passed by look askance at him, saying among themselves,
"Can he really be on his way to the Radiant City, as Temper walks by his side?"
But except for these, Amer met few enemies at first, and wondered at times what the Guide Book meant when it spoke of Principalities and Powers against which he would have to wrestle.
[CHAPTER V.]
ENEMIES OF THE ROAD.
Amer soon found that the journey was not so smooth as he had thought. There were stiff bits of hill to climb, and rough rocks and stones which cut and hurt his feet. He was often desperately tired and the Radiant City seemed a long way off. Also at certain times he felt to miss his old companions.
He had not met many people on the road. He had seen many a merry party walking fearlessly on a broad walk which at times seemed to be leading to the Radiant City, picking flowers and singing gaily, and he had looked somewhat longingly at them.
Several pilgrims indeed had passed him on the way in the narrow path, but they were so intent on their own journey that they seemed to have no time to give to him; and he sometimes felt lonely.
One day as he was giving way to rather sad thoughts he noticed three small people sitting together by the roadside. They looked dreary and were dressed all in grey. Forgetting the warnings of the Ambassador, Amer sat down by their side and entered into a conversation. He soon found that their company instead of comforting him depressed him greatly.
"Where are you going to?" they asked him.
"To the Radiant City," was his answer.
"You will never get there," said one of them, "you have not the air of a servant of the Great King. When we saw you, you were looking dreary and forlorn."
"I feel lonely at times," he answered.
"But I thought your Book tells you that you are never alone. You cannot be one of the Great King's soldiers if you feel lonely."
"How long have you been on your journey?" asked another.
"Two months," was his answer. "I started late I grieve to say."
"Only two months! then you have wasted some of the best years of your life; you do not suppose the King will accept anyone who has despised His message all those years, do you? How do you know that you are His soldier and accepted by Him?"
"I see no sign of you being different from others whom I meet," said a third, "you still have the look of the Dark City upon you. How do you know that you belong to Him?"
"I met the Ambassador and he told me that the King loved me," said Amer.
"The Ambassador cannot tell. He does not really know all your sins. Think of all those years in the Dark City, all the time you have forgotten the King."
"Think of how you turned round after making resolves to begin your journey," said one of them who had evidently heard his story.
"But it was for sinners that the King died," answered Amer.
"Yes, but not for sinners like you. Besides if you were one of His servants you would look more cheerful and get on faster. Why you have been two months on the way and have only got so far."
"How do you know that He has accepted you?" persisted another.
"Because He cannot break His word," said Amer, "and He has said, 'him that cometh to Me, I will in no wise cast out;'" then turning round suddenly upon them, he asked,
"What is your name?"
"We are a family of the name of Morbid," they answered, "and we take upon ourselves the duty of warning people if we think they are deceiving themselves."
"I must not tarry here talking to you," said Amer, beginning to wish he had not taken any notice of the Morbids, "I must be continuing my journey," at which he rose from his seat.
But the little grey clad men would not leave him, they ran by his side and would take no hint from him as to his wish to be rid of their company.
For a mile or two they trotted beside him, filling his mind with all sorts of gloomy forebodings, and the more he hurried hoping to out-distance them, the quicker they ran, till at last, somewhat out of breath, they took hold of his coat and so helped themselves along. Amer began to be suspicious of them.
"Are you on your way to Radiant City?" he asked.
"Why not," they answered evasively; then as the lad would not be satisfied with their answer they added.
"Why be in such haste? You are not sure if the King will receive you at the end; and then what will become of you? Besides which we doubt if you will persevere, and in that case it would have been better never to have set out." At this Amer pulled his coat away from them violently, but it only had the effect of making them cling to his feet, so that every step was an effort. Do what he would he could not get rid of them, and the more he struggled the tighter they clung, till at last they pulled him to the ground. There he lay exhausted and miserable, and how long the little grey enemies would have had him in their clutches I do not know, if the Ambassador had not happened to pass that way and beheld his distress.
"Sir," cried Amer, "I am in great straits. The Morbids looked peaceable enough as I passed them on the road, and I only talked with them for a few minutes as I rested. But they have not left me since, and I cannot get rid of them."
"Out with your sword, man," cried the Ambassador, "have you forgotten the armour? To parley with the enemy or to argue with him is fatal. I see your sword is sheathed and idle in your hand. Out with it and do battle." Amer drew his sword, and at that the little grey people fled.
"My lad," said the Ambassador, "your fall has been caused by several mistakes. First, you were not on the watch. Secondly, you thought the enemy too small to be of much consequence. Thirdly, you forgot your sword, and your girdle is hanging loosely about you. Take my advice, lad, and never despise the enemy however small and insignificant he looks. Many a battle has been lost simply through this."
"Shall I always have you at my side to help me when I fall?" asked Amer.
"Nay, I do not know that we shall ever meet again here. I have to go elsewhere and work for the King. But what does it signify? You have the King Himself with you, you do not need the Ambassador."
"But," said Amer perplexed, "I cannot see the King and He did not come to my aid."
"You forgot to cry unto Him; He hears the faintest call of His children, but you trusted in your own strength to deliver you, and forgot Him. But He came to your aid notwithstanding, for He sent me this way to help you."
"How may I be sure that He hears and is willing to help?" asked Amer.
"You have not studied your Guide Book enough if you have not come across His promises." And at that the Ambassador opened the Book that he always carried in his hand and told Amer to do the same.
"Listen to the words of the Great King," he said:—
"'The eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous, and His ears are open unto their cry.'"
"'This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him, and saved him out of all his troubles. The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear Him, and delivereth them.' 'I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.' 'Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.'"
At these wonderful words Amer looked up with joy, and though he was sad at the thought that he might never see the Ambassador again till he met him in the Radiant City, he renewed his journey with hope and confidence.
Looking towards the East he noticed how brightly the Radiant City shone, and for a long time he kept his eyes continually upon it and often sang for very gladness of heart.
The loneliness of the way was scarcely noticed by him at this time as he was so full of the Good News that the King was ever with him.
His path took him up a very steep hill. But so great was his joy that he did not notice its steepness. About half-way up the hill, Temper met him. Amer looking him sternly in the face was struck with his ugliness.
"Come now," he said, "I will have nothing to do with you. I have in the past had too much of your company, but from this day I will have none of you. Be gone," and drawing out his sword manfully he saw, to his joy, Temper make a hasty retreat. But the enemy was not going to let him off so easily, and met him further up the hill. Amer however was on the look-out for him, so that he could not get near enough to strike the young soldier, and after awhile, growing tired of waiting for an unwatched moment, he clattered back to where he came from with a surly countenance and a threat that he would have his revenge later.
Full of triumph at his victories, Amer went forward, congratulating himself that he was growing a brave soldier, and that he was able to overcome the enemy. After a while he looked again at the Radiant City, and was rather surprised that a thin veil seemed to be between it and him.
However he did not take much notice of this but sang lustily in exultation.
He soon caught up a man who was walking slowly and carefully on the same road, picking his way to avoid loose stories and slippery places.
"Good morning, friend," cried Amer, well pleased that he had found a companion, "you are going the same way as I am."
"Yes," answered the man, "I am journeying to the Radiant City."
"How long have you been on the way?" asked Amer, wondering at the slowness and carefulness of his walk.
"I have been ten years," he answered ruefully, "and alas, have made but slow progress."
"Ten years!" cried Amer, "I have not been ten months! How is it, friend, you walk so carefully and slowly?"
"Because," he answered sadly, "I have had so many a fall through careless walking, that it has delayed me. Only last week I tripped over a loose stone and twisted my ankle, so that the next enemy that came past had the advantage over me."
"Do you use your sword?" asked Amer.
"My sword is never out of my hand," said the traveller, "had it not been for that I should have been lost on the road long ago."
"But look at me," said Amer, "I have conquered triumphantly the last enemy that attacked me, and am not now afraid. You should trust the King more and hasten forward."