Morning Star (29 page)

The next day, July 1, Joseph appeared before the Municipal Court of Nauvoo. When Mark came home that evening, he sank into the rocking chair with a tired sigh. Shaking his head, he said, “Well, unless the courts find a way to challenge it, the matter's settled.”

“The trial? What happened?”

“The sheriff from Missouri, Reynolds, did a lot of protesting, but the court, under the jurisdiction of Chief Justice William Marks, tried Joseph and discharged him.

“Under the Nauvoo Charter the Missouri charge of treason was dismissed. Testimony—all by Mormons—showed that Joseph suffered at the hands of the Missourians, rather than being, as they claimed, the aggressor.”

“Mark, will that decision stand?” Jenny whispered.

He looked up. “Depends. There's too much of politics in it right now. This is an election year. If the past is any indicator, Joseph's church voting power will play a role in the outcome of the election. Right now he's committed to a Whig vote because of the trial.”

Chapter 28

With a sigh Mark pulled himself out of bed and went to the window. Dawn was a promise, but as he stood there, feeling as if all the wakeful hours of the past six weeks were pressing upon him, Mark didn't relish the promise.

He had heard the baby's whimper and had known when Jenny slipped out of bed, but that was just one more reminder of the problem heavy upon his mind.

Bracing his elbow against the window frame, Mark let his memories of that June day capture him again and pull him back into the problem. On the day he rushed into the office with the papers in his hands, Joseph, his brow furrowed with effort, was dictating to Clayton.

When Mark apologized and began to back out of the room, Joseph waved him to a chair, saying, “Stay. I'm nearly finished and I want you to hear this.”

It was the revelation on marriage—the everlasting covenant of marriage. The words still knocked around in Mark's head, challenging him to deal with the issue. In the quiet of the night, with the press of Jenny's body close to him, he found the words a mockery.

He moved restlessly. He didn't believe in the revelations, or even in the Prophet's calling—but Jenny did, and that was the problem. He found himself whispering, “Lord Jesus, a long time ago You helped me realize the only honest way for me to deal with Jenny's need of You is to keep my mouth shut, never to force my deep desire for her salvation upon her. Lord, it's been difficult, and it's getting worse. I know pushing the truth on her makes me no different than Joseph, even when I
know
my truth is the Bible truth and his is not. Please help.”

He waited in silence while the words from that revelation welled up in his mind:
I the Lord justified my servants Abraham, Isaac, Jacob . . . of their having many wives. . . . All those who have this law revealed to them must obey the same. . . . If ye abide not that covenant, then are ye damned; for no one can reject this covenant and be permitted to enter into my glory
.

Mark muttered, “And under the covenant, all these men will be gods, with power and angels in submission. And it's by doing the works of Abraham; in other words—as you are so fond of saying, Joseph—it's plural marriage that saves a man. And any good Mormon who won't go along with this is to be destroyed.” Mark turned away from the window, once again affirming his commitment. “Lord, I must trust You to work this all out. You know, don't You? I wake up in a cold sweat thinking of the fearful
what ifs
.”

In the kitchen Jenny saw the dawn touching the windows with light. The summer heat was only a misty warmth seeping through the open window.

She sat in the rocking chair holding John Mark against her breast. Deeply conscious of his warm weight, she pressed her lips to his fist and touched the tear on his cheek.

In the quiet she heard the beginning rustle of woodland creatures, the call of birds. From the pasture came the plaintive cry of the lambs. Jenny sighed deeply and snuggled the infant against her. “God's in His heaven and all's right—” she murmured, even then thinking of the imprint these early morning hours were making upon her.

“'Tis impossible not to feel it,” she added, looking out the window. “The beauty, the peace. The deeps. It's like it's being branded into me, all the goodness of God.” She sat musing on a new fact. These early morning hours seemed to freshen her memory, and the words stored there surfaced.

“I didn't realize I was remembering the words while I was reading the Bible. Now if I could only find out the
whys
of it all.”

“What why?” Mark was beside her, uttering the question as quietly as if the silence of morning rested in his soul, too. He sat on the woodbox at her feet, and their eyes were on the same level.

By the dawning light, she was seeing the curious flecks of blue-green in his eyes. Dreamily she thought to make mention that she had noticed John Mark's eyes changing to the same curious color, but it wasn't the time. Slowly she pressed out words, designed to fit the morning. “God, wrath, beauty. Jesus speaks of peace. Joseph preaches wrath. Jesus says, “Believe”; Joseph says, “Fear.” Mark, my head whirls trying to remember the
do's
. Why does the Bible tell us that if righteousness comes by law, then Christ died for nothing?”

His eyes were changing, and for a moment she was caught up in the tenderness, wondering. Then he whispered, “Grace, Jenny. Jesus gives salvation as a gracious gift. Here we only glimpse the perfection of God, but we have hints. It's hinted through the love. He knows there's no way we can be holy, so He gives it.”

“It doesn't seem right—to be ugly with all the sin we do, and then just get it.” Her voice was brooding. “Seems more right to do something for God.”

“There's no way we can
do
enough to be holy. It's like a coat. Through Jesus Christ's atonement, we have righteousness thrown about us. Only it isn't ours until we reach out and accept it.”

In a moment she sighed and the words welled up: “‘To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.'” A moment later she quoted, “‘Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? or who shall stand in his holy place? He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart . . .'”

He gently prodded, “Why, Jenny?” She could only shake her head, whispering, “I don't know. Sometimes I get so weary for something.” Then she whispered, “I love the phrase, ‘Who is this king of glory?' It's a mystery, isn't it?” She got to her feet and carried the sleeping baby to his cradle. Now the sun was bright and she sighed with regret.

Mark rode to Nauvoo with sadness as heavy as cold iron resting upon his heart. Just before he left the house Jenny had whispered, “‘Lift up your heads, O ye gates; . . . and the king of glory shall come in.'” Her eyes had been dark pools of yearning.

He had said
Jenny
with gladness on his soul, and then he looked at the sleeping boy. With his vow of silence and forgiveness, how could he say
Jenny, not until . . 
. ? With every mile he rode, Mark felt as if his heart was breaking with the desire to urge her confession.

He straightened in the saddle; once again he must face Joseph and the necessity of forgiving that man.

****

July was slipping away, but Joseph still basked in the glory of the Independence Day celebration. To Mark it seemed that nearly every day the Prophet found occasion to mention the crowds of strangers who had poured into Nauvoo to see the marvels and listen to the man who had bested the Missourians and escaped untainted from their grasp.

The newspaper articles that issued out of Springfield did little to dampen Joseph's joy, even though he recognized the heavy hand of Dr. John C. Bennett in them.

The sheriff from Missouri became the joke of Nauvoo when it was learned he had stomped his way to Springfield, demanding that Governor Ford furnish troops in order that he might march on Nauvoo and drag the Prophet out.

Today, when Mark reached the office, both Joseph and William Clayton were laughing with glee. Joseph waved the paper under Mark's nose and said, “See this? The gist of it is that if we vote Democrat, we've nothing more to fear from Governor Ford. We're home free as far as Missouri is concerned.”

“It's to Ford's advantage to cooperate with the Lord,” Joseph added. As for Washington, in the name of the Lord, I deliver unto you the prophecy that within a few years' time, this government will be overthrown and wasted away. This is judgment from the Lord for their wickedness in supporting the cause of Missouri. We are still an oppressed people, and our rights have not been upheld.”

Joseph returned to his desk and began sorting through the papers there. As Clayton prepared to leave the room, Joseph said, “By the way, William, did you take care of the deeds?”

“I did. In June. They've been duly filed. Emma's share is sixty city lots.”

“Joseph—” Mark paused and tried to control his anger. “I advised you a year ago that this wasn't to be done. The provisions of the bankruptcy law will not allow you to transfer any property. You're heading for trouble.”

“I'll cross that bridge when I get to it!” Joseph snapped. “I'm not concerned. There are too many other things of first importance.

“Must I remind you again that it has been prophesied concerning the war which will soon break out? The Lord has given me to understand that the first outbreak with the shedding of blood will take place at South Caroline. Fear not, Mark, only be faithful to the will of the Lord revealed to you.”

****

Jenny sighed and folded the scraps of calico spread across the kitchen table. “Sweet little John Mark; how about going for a ride with Mama?”

Jenny bent over the cradle. John Mark's arms and legs pounded out his enthusiasm while he crowed with delight. Jenny scooped him up, saying, “Oh, wet! We're going to visit that nice Sarah Pratt as soon as I make you presentable. I don't have a pattern for these quilt blocks.”

Sarah answered Jenny's knock. “Oh,” Jenny said in dismay as she looked at the woman's red eyes and blotched face. “I shouldn't have come. Are you ill?”

“No,” Sarah sighed and stepped back to allow Jenny to enter the house. “I'm just feeling sorry for myself today.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Jenny asked timidly.

Sarah started to shake her head, and the tears began. “I don't want to dump my troubles on you. Besides, what I'm going through is nothing more or less than what you'll all be called upon to endure sooner or later if the Prophet calls for the sacrifice.”

“What do you mean?” Jenny asked.

“Then Mark hasn't been tapped to obey the priesthood?” she asked bitterly. “Well, just wait; it'll be soon.” She glanced sharply at Jenny adding, “You act as if you don't know. Plural marriage, celestial marriage, the everlasting covenant of marriage which no man is allowed to refuse once it is given to him. To refuse is to be damned, and I assure you, my husband is not going to be damned.”

Feeling as if she were being backed into a corner, Jenny reminded Sarah, “You know as well as I do that the Prophet's been preaching against the doctrine. There's the pamphlet he's come out against. From the pulpit he's denied the accusations.”

“Out of one side of the mouth while he's promoting it with the other.”

Jenny remembered that day over a year ago when she had met Dr. Bennett right here in this room. Questions nagged at her, and she had to know. Slowly she said, “Dr. Bennett, that time I met him here, was talking about abortion like it was something happening right here in Nauvoo. Is that true? Was he referring to Saints getting rid of their babies?”

“Yes, Jenny. Remember? He said he did this to prevent
exposure
of the parties involved. He meant Saints.”

“I can't imagine anyone getting rid of a baby,” Jenny said, cuddling John Mark. “Was it to keep people from knowing about polygamy? If that's so, how can the teaching be from God?”

“It isn't,” she said bitterly. “Jenny, use your head. Is it even logical to think the Lord would advocate plural marriage as a means to holiness when the result is a tearing apart of the sweet union of husband and wife?”

For a moment Jenny teetered on the edge of understanding, but even then she knew this step would force her to face something within herself.

Sarah was speaking again. “Joseph sent my husband to England on a mission, with the promise that he would see I was provided with food and fuel for the winter. Shortly after he left, Joseph paid me a visit. He advised me that the Lord had given me to him as a
spiritual wife
. I didn't understand what he meant until he pulled himself up to the top of his dignity and in a stuffy voice said he desired
connubial bliss
with me and hoped I wouldn't deny him. Of course, by then I realized it was nothing except a ruse to get me to go to bed with him.

“I informed him I wouldn't disgrace the institution of marriage by calling his proposal
that
. Jenny, I dearly love my husband. Never could I be willing to sacrifice that sweet relationship. I didn't count on Joseph's insistence, though.”

“Oh, no!” Jenny moaned.

Sarah frowned, paused, and then continued. “Joseph threatened to ruin my reputation if I told anyone. Well, you know the rest—how the story leaked out, how Dr. Bennett was accused by the Prophet of doing what he desired himself. You also remember what it did to my husband; when William Law, poor unsuspecting man, got up in the meeting and asked the Saints to lift their hands attesting to the righteousness of the Prophet, my Orson was the only one who voted against him.”