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narniaexchangeTitle: Passing Seasons
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nasimwrites
Recipient:jn208505
Rating: T
Content/Warnings: Violence, some dark themes.
Summary: “Here was once a land of joy and plenty, once torn apart by the Long Winter and now twice torn apart by those who dare call themselves saviors of Narnia.” Summer brings new challenges for the Pevensies.
Author’s Notes: Thank you, Janet, for being my beta even though it was on short notice!
This story was originally meant to be less than 16 pages in length, but it mutated and grew and is now over 100 pages in length and has nearly 60,000 words… I hope you don’t mind reading a novel-length fic!
Passing Seasons
Chapter 2
The sand tickled Lucy’s feet as it made its way into her shoes, but she resisted the urge of pulling them off and walking barefoot; this was not the time. The group was not as loud as it had been before as they drew nearer to the shore, though the Fauns skipped from here to there joyfully and there was a pleasant yet hushed chatter among the Talking Beasts. Peter led the way over the sand, his crown and his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight, looking truly magnificent.
As the Galman Ship drew nearer they could see the banners that the ship flagrantly displayed: the silver bear catching a fish in its jaws over a blue and green background. It was a low yet long ship, with large triangular sails that gleamed white in the sunlight, flags fluttering in the wind high above them. Countless rows swished to and fro as the ship neared Narnia, its long, thin prow aiming for Cair Paravel. They could see men moving on the deck. Edmund shifted nervously.
“It looks different than the pictures I’ve seen in England,” he said over the noise of the crashing waves.
“It’s a beautiful ship,” Susan remarked.
Lucy’s eyes gleamed. “We should get a Narnian ship built!”
Edmund looked interested. “We would have to find someone with experience in that, though,” he said in a low voice. “And I don’t see anyone around here that might have it…” He glanced at the dwarves who were shaking sand out of their boots and then at some of the Talking Beasts, particularly the feline ones, who were looking rather miffed at the feel of the strong wind and the loud water.
Peter didn’t have a chance to make a remark, because the ship had almost reached them. They stepped onto the dock and a badger walked forwards to offer Susan a parasol, which she politely refused. While the badger moved towards the back of the group, the rest rearranged themselves behind the Kings and Queens; the centaurs guarding them on either side, Dorick, the Faun with the banner, and a leopard named Witrow right behind them and the rest following afterwards.
As the ship drew nearer, Lucy could see words emblazoned in dark paint upon the side of the prow: The Star Seeker. It was a good name, she thought, but rather unusual. The sides of it had been painted a deep blue, and from where she was, she could see the rows of sailors sitting below the deck. They no longer had to row, however, for the waves were doing their work for them and The Star Seeker was docking on her own.
“King Reghorius is the son of King Serlam II, and he comes from a long line of Kings descended from the man who founded Galma.” Dorick was speaking in a low voice to the four of them.
“So it’s been in the family for ages.”
“Yes, Sire. Galma’s main trade is fishing, and most of its commerce is directed towards Calormen, though some of it goes to the Seven Isles from time to time. They’ve managed to stay away from any of the mainland wars and haven’t had a battle for years. Its relationship with Narnia prior to the Great Winter was good, but there were rumors that they refused Narnia aid when the Witch first began her attacks, which caused them to lose all their trade with Archenland, who has remained our steady ally since its very beginning.”
“I don’t like them,” said Witrow matter-of-factly. “They smell like fish.”
“I thought you liked fish,” Edmund put in out of the corner of his mouth as some dwarves, centaurs and satyrs moved forwards to help anchor the ship and place the boardwalk.
“Not rotten fish,” said Witrow, looking offended.
Lucy could see the sailors now, and she could easily pick out the knights among them for their bright clothes of bright greens and browns. They stood proudly, wearing short swords on their belts, some of them carrying shields or a quiver of arrows and a bow. Their skin had once been pale, but they were burnt brown by the sun. Lucy couldn’t smell rotten fish of any sort from the boat, but she could hear the leopards muttering behind her.
Slowly, a small group of people began to disembark. Ahead of them all walked a banner man carrying the emblem of the Galman Nation, and behind him came King Reghorius of Galma, a very plump, short man with graying hair and a short grey beard which hid his neck from view. He wore long robes of bright blue and silver sash. On his fingers were many rings. His crown was large and glimmered silver as he dismounted with some difficulty, rubbing his hands together momentarily and then outstretching them, inclining his head slightly in their direction. His skin was tan, yet not as dark as that of his subjects, and his blue eyes gleamed as he met their gaze.
“My Lords and Ladies,” said the King of Galma, greeting them with a courteous smile that almost seemed forced. “It is an honor to be here, in a country we once thought long lost to us humans.”
Edmund caught the furtive glance the King gave towards the centaurs and the Fauns nearby. He held back a smirk.
“I thought all the Galmans ate was fish!” Witrow exclaimed in a loud, amused whisper that thankfully didn’t carry towards the Galman delegation. “How does a man get that fat?”
“Quiet, Witrow!” Oreius hissed in his deep voice. Witrow fell quiet, his ears flat on his head. As daring as the leopard was, he wasn’t mad enough to cross a centaur.
“We are equally honored to have you as our guest during the Summer Festival, King Reghorius,” said Peter with an amiable smile from where he sat. “We hope you enjoy the accommodations we have provided for you and your men, and we look forward to celebrating alongside Galma during these merry days.”
“You are very kind,” said the King, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “I am pleased to see that though you are young, your country seems to thrive under your rule, King Peter.”
“High King Peter,” Edmund put in, a polite smile on his lips. “All four of us are Kings and Queens, but my brother is the High King.”
Nobody missed the condescension in the King’s voice or the look in his eyes when he apologized. “Forgive me, High King Peter,” he said. “You must understand that it is all rather confusing for your neighbors.”
The silence could have been tense had the King not turned to motion towards something behind him.
“Allow me to present my son, Cadoc,” he said, and a young boy no older than fifteen stepped forwards rather awkwardly. He was tall and lanky, his blonde hair falling in his face a bit and his eyes furtive as he bowed before them. He had the distinct look of someone who feels sick and is trying to hide it.
“Your Majesties,” he said in a low voice.
“Speak louder,” they heard the King mutter to his son through his forced a smile, before continuing to speak to them. “You must forgive my son; he is not feeling well at the moment, but I assure you that he will be participating in the tourneys and win our country some admiration through sparring during this festival.”
“I am sure we will all find it most enjoyable,” Peter said, his smile genuine as he glanced towards Cadoc, who really did seem on the verge of having an upset stomach.
“And this is my wife, Queen Amisse.” Said the King, gesturing to his side. A young woman appeared; Susan thought she didn’t look a day over thirty; she felt an odd stab of pity in her chest. The Queen looked rather shy as she bowed before them, and Susan smiled at her kindly. Amisse smiled back tentatively.
While the monarchs had been speaking, the knights had moved to stand behind the King of Galma and his son in a line. One by one, they began to introduce themselves: Lord Desmet, Lord Backqer, Lord Janghar, Lord Claeys, and many others. Some of them were quite young, while others seemed to be rather old for the intense physical activity they were expected to partake in. Meanwhile, the sailors brought all manner of boxes, crates and chests from the ship, and also led a few horses off the ship. A small group of men moved forwards from the delegation and set down a small chest before the dais.
“A small gift for Narnia to remember Galma by,” said the King with an arrogant smile. A Dwarf stepped forwards from behind the Pevensies to take the chest and put it away, where it would be taken to the treasury of Cair Paravel.
“Strings of true pearls from the depths of the Galman Sea,” said the King. “I hope you find the gift to your likings.”
“They are lovely,” Susan said with a bright smile. “Indeed the nation of Galma is most generous. We are afraid we have little to offer in exchange for such generosity.”
“We could start by a good flagon of mead,” said the King with a laugh.
“Mead shall be provided, then,” said Peter with a chuckle. “And good wine and beer as well, for your family and all your men.”
//
The badgers and the Fauns set up a small tent with chairs near the dock for the Pevensies, for the gryphon had flown over them once more, announcing that the Calormene ship was but half an hour away. So, while the Narnians helped the visitors carry their things to camp and provided horses for the King and his family, the Pevensies sat in the shade and listened to the sound of the waves and of the many voices of the people around them while eating fresh fruit that a dryad had just brought for them.
Lucy had a far-off look in her eyes as she buried her now bare feet in the sand and took a bite out of a ripe peach. Susan knew what she was going to say before she said it.
“Remember that time we went to the beach with Mother and Father?”
Edmund laughed. “The water was ice cold but you got in anyway because you said you didn’t want to miss out on the experience.”
Lucy giggled, leaning back in her seat, because nearly all the visitors had left the shore by now. “That was about… two years ago. Well, that is counting years in England, without counting these two years in Narnia. So, four years, really. Or was it more?”
Nobody said anything. Lucy shrugged and sighed contentedly, but Susan frowned.
“Where was it?”
“What?” asked Edmund, turning to look at her.
“That beach,” he said. “Where was it?”
“I don’t know,” said Edmund bemusedly. “Does it matter?”
“Edmund, we went to that town nearly every summer holiday before the war started. We should know!”
“Well I don’t!” Edmund said, looking taken aback. “I don’t remember where it was.”
They fell into an uncomfortable silence, and they all looked at each other before looking away quickly. It was one of those things that they didn’t like talking about much; England. Too many confusing conversations ensued. Susan wasn’t sure why it was confusing, but that was the way it was. It was as if England was slowly slipping out of their memories.
She shook herself. It shouldn’t matter. They were in Narnia now.
//
The Calormene ship appeared on the horizon soon afterwards, and this time they had more time to fully appreciate the view of the ship as it neared the shores of Narnia. It was vastly different from any ship they had ever seen, though it seemed vaguely familiar to Susan, as if he had seen that kind of ship once before, perhaps in some kind of history book.
It was an extremely long ship, low and almost like a box, with a single mast rising up from its center, the sail displaying the Calormen emblem of the dark Bird-headed god, Tash, against a white background. The ship turned as they watched it, and Lucy caught sight of the paintings at the front of the ship just above the prow, which was painted gold: the ship had eyes, as if it was staring at them. The eyes didn’t look unfriendly, but they were strange. She looked away.
Countless colorful shields were displayed on the sides of the ship, making it particularly colorful, for Calormene shields had art carved onto them of different kinds.
“The Tarkaan Houses of The Empire of Calormen,” Dorick explained as they stood in a formation once more to receive the newcomers. “It’s tradition to display all their shields on a ship when neighboring a foreign country.”
Beneath the deck of the ship, what seemed like hundreds of rows moved back and forth, steering the ship and nearing it to the harbor. There was something different about the way these men rowed from the way the sailors from Galma did. Perhaps it was the way they were so rhythmical and precise from the moment the rows touched the water until they left it and repeated the cycle. Either way, something about it seemed distinctly uncanny to Lucy.
From the distance they were at, they couldn’t make out the faces of the group of men that stood on the deck of the ship, but they could see the fluttering colorful silken cloth of their clothes and their distinct Calormene turbans and pointed helmets.
The ship, which had no visible name, moved swiftly, and in almost no time at all it was being anchored by a strong dark skinned sailor dressed in white. Lucy could now see the people standing on the deck of the ship more clearly. At the head of the group were two men dressed in colorful tunics, their beards deep raven black and their turbans made of golden and silver cloth, with scimitars at their sides. It was obvious from their stance that they were the highest authority on the ship. Behind them stood those whom Lucy assumed were the Tarkaans of lower rank, standing tall and proud.
Dorick continued to murmur behind them. “The one with the golden turban is Jarrash Tarkaan, Crown Prince of the Empire of Calormene.”
“So that’s the future King,” murmured Susan. “I understand the Tisroc is quite old.”
“I doubt it,” they heard Witrow say in a low growl, his tone more serious this time. “Even us Talking Beasts know about them.”
“What do you mean?” Peter asked quickly.
The Red Dwarf sighed grimly. “He was third in the line, Sire,” he said. “The two princes before him have died only in the past year. No one believes Jarrash will make it to the throne; I doubt even he is sure of it by now. The current Tisroc began his rule hardly nine months ago, but he already has fifteen sons with different wives and no doubt shall have more born before his rule is over. The political battle for the throne has only just begun.”
They said nothing for a moment, watching the banner of Tash fluttering in the wind in a way that almost made its arms seem to be reaching out. The man with the golden turban stepped off of the ship, followed by his entourage, while those who had been rowing secured the ship and began to disembark large parcels and crates. A few horses were also brought down; large stallions that greatly rivaled the tired-looking, dusty animals from Galma.
“Third in the line, then,” Edmund mused in a low voice, out of the Calormene’s earshot. “So what happened to the brother before him?”
Dorick remained silent, but his unease was nearly tangible. Witrow growled softly. “These wear perfume,” he said, and sneezed violently.
Lucy held back a laugh despite the severity of the conversation.
Jarrash Tarkaan stepped forward with a grace that came from years of training. His dark skin shone in the sunlight, looking almost as soft as the silks he wore, and the smile he offered them from beneath his beard was proud but sincere. He gave them an extremely complex bow.
“There are five different kinds of bows in Calormen etiquette,” Dorick whispered quickly. “The Prince just gave you the fourth kind, which is performed before those slightly above one’s rank, yet below that of the Tisroc, whom is the authority just above him. He is doing Your Majesties honor in a befitting way.”
Peter smiled just as the Prince began to speak in a deep, melodious.
“My name is Jarrash Tarkaan and I am the Crown Prince of the Empire of Calormen and first heir to her throne, son of Adeben Tisroc himself (may he live forever), the son of Ishaq Tisroc, the son of Ilsombreh Tisroc, the son of Ardeeb Tisroc who was descended in a right line from the god Tash. I come to represent the country of my father’s ruling before our most esteemed allies of the Kingdom of Narnia, and in his name I bestow upon Your Majesties his most effusive greetings and well-wishes. May your rule over this country be blessed by the gods and may your lives be eternal.”
“You are very gracious, Prince Jarrash,” said Peter, “It is an honor to count you and your people among us during these festivities. And we beg that you relay our gratitude to your father the Tisroc. May the friendship between our countries last forever.”
The contrast between the greetings that had been offered by the Galman delegation and that of Calormen was great, and Lucy almost wished that the King of Galma had been present. She was instantly impressed by the elegance of the manner the people of Calormen displayed; despite the vicious politics she had heard they played, one could not deny that their court manners were astoundingly appealing.
The man with the silver turban who had remained at Jarrash Tarkaan’s side stepped forwards, and fell to one knee in another display of respect, much like the Prince’s but even more deferential. When he looked up, Lucy saw a younger face which struck her as surprisingly kind and humble for a man of such rank. His eyes reminded her of those of the Narnian Fauns… both full of joy and mournful at the same time.
“My name is Ishamiel Tarkaan and I am the eighth in the line of the throne held by my venerable father, Adeben Tisroc (may he live forever), the son of Ishaq Tisroc, the son of Ilsombreh Tisroc, the son of Ardeeb Tisroc who was descended in a right line from the almighty god Tash. It is an honor for me to accompany my brother in this invitation to join the festivities of the Kingdom of Narnia, and in the name of my brother and my country I present you with the gifts the Tisroc (may he live forever) has bidden us to impart upon Your Majesties, as a demonstration of Calormen’s amity and generosity.”
As he spoke, six men dressed in simple white trousers and sashes, their chests bare, stepped forwards and placed upon the wooden floors between the Pevensies and the Princes one small chest and two large cylindrical packages.
They then prostrated themselves on the floor behind the items and one of them exclaimed in a heavy Calormen accent, though Lucy couldn’t identify which one of them it was. “These gifts the almighty Tisroc (may he live forever!) presents to the High King Peter, King Edmund, Queen Susan and Queen Lucy of the Kingdom of Narnia: two carpets of the most delicate and intricate weaving such as only royalty of Calormen can afford, to decorate the floors of their Majesty’s homes in remembrance of their sister Calormen, and a chest of gold and Calormen spice the such of which is not found in any other land in the world!”
The men backed away and retreated behind the Tarkaans of Calormen. Two dwarves stepped forwards to grab hold of the gifts and put them away. Edmund could tell that the Calormenes were doing their best to hide their unease around the strange creatures they could see walking before them.
“The generosity of Calormen is great,” said Peter courteously. And indeed the gifts looked wondrous. “Narnia can only hope to entertain and gladden you with our festivities; and indeed we hope you find your time among us enjoyable. Should you or your people require anything, do not hesitate to ask.”
Jarrash smiled. “I am sure that we shall be completely satisfied. Long has my father the Tisroc (may he live forever) said that Narnia has brought blessings upon our house, for it happens that the very week Your Majesties brought an end to the Great Winter, the Tisroc was crowned and given the powers to rule.”
“Oh, but we cannot take gratitude for such actions,” Lucy spoke up suddenly, surprising everyone. “For it was not we, who are but simple mortals, but the Great Lion Aslan, who put an end to the winter and allowed us to defeat the White Witch. Should the blessings of both our countries be connected, it is by the grace of Aslan that it came to be, not by our humble hands.”
Lucy could tell that the Tarkaans did not know what to say. As adorers of Tash they would not agree, but they would show them respect. All Jarrash did was bow very low, and he moved to a side as the Tarkaans behind them introduced themselves: Ilgamuth, Khaldun, Khalid, Alimash, Masud, among others. The names were all blurred in Lucy’s mind.
“You are welcome to share some wine with us before we leave for the camp near The Cair,” Peter said, once the introductions were over. “We shall open many barrels for all of your men once they are done unloading the ship, so we might all partake in a drink.”
“Worry not about them, Your Lordship,” said Jarrash casually, waving a hand towards the shirtless men dressed in white. “The slaves have no need for your courtesy. Simple drinks of water will suffice once the end of the day draws near.”
“We lose nothing from granting them a drink of wine,” said Edmund with a smile that hid extremely well what Lucy knew was disgust at the idea of slaves. “For in Narnia every living thing is free.”
Jarrash bowed once more, his expression showing that he felt both impressed and confused at the same time. It occurred to Lucy that perhaps the idea of a nation without slaves hadn’t occurred to him. “Very well, if Your Majesties see fit for them to benefit from your ample generosity, then so be it. It does no harm to me or my men, but do not feel like you must care for our slaves.”
So barrels of wine were brought forth and all shared a drink, even the Calormene slaves, who seemed quite moved by the gesture. Lucy wished with all her heart that she could approach them and speak to them, but it was clear from Edmund’s slight shake of his head that such a thing would be deemed offensive by the Tarkaans and therefore was certainly not a good idea. There was some relief in the knowledge that the Narnians would not understand the concept of slavery, however, and would treat the slaves much better than the Calormenes were likely to do in their own country.
As they rode back to camp, Lucy could see the newcomers eyeing the Fauns, the Talking Beasts and the Centaurs with no little trepidation. It didn’t help that some of the creatures took advantage of it. She caught sight of Witrow staring at one of the Tarkaans in a way that would even startle her even if it were being done in only a joking way, which was what she suspected the leopard was doing; it probably had something to do with the perfume he had claimed they wore. She threw the animal a chiding look as she rode her horse along with the many carts and other riders back to camp.
“When do you think Lune will be arriving?” Edmund asked Peter as they dismounted near the dais they had been sitting on to receive the Narnians earlier that day. Looking up, he saw that his brother was staring off at something towards the hills.
“Actually,” said Peter with a grin. “I think he’s arriving as we speak.”
Hurriedly, while the Calormenes and the Galmans were having their seating arranged under other pavilions nearby and were settling down into them, the Pevensies returned to their seats to await the delegation for Archenland. Unlike the wait for the people of Galma and Calormen, this one had no tension in the air, only merriment. King Lune had visited them often since their coronation and had made it very clear that he was their friend, both as King and as a fellow human being, and he had given them much advice that had proved useful to them. He was almost like family to the Pevensies, and they knew that though there were many things they were not sure of when ruling Narnia, betrayal from Archenland was not one of them.
King Lune rode in on his saddle looking rather dusty from the trip but with his characteristic jolly smile on his lips. He was a very plump man with golden hair that already had some lines of grey in it, and he wore a large hat with two feathers on it. For once, Witrow had nothing witty to say about this man, because like the other Talking Beasts he was nearly purring with joy at the sight of this friend of Narnia.
“My friends!” cried King Lune as he approached, followed by a large group of people dressed in deep reds and greens in the fashion of Archenland, and bearing the coat of arms of the country: a red cross against a golden background. He halted his horse many feet away from the dais and dismounted, bowing deeply as he always did. “It is such an honor to be before you once more, High King Peter, Queen Susan, King Edmund and Queen Lucy.”
“It is we who are honored by your presence, King Lune,” said Peter with a smile. “Long have you been our ally and our friend in times of trouble and difficulty. It seems only fitting that you join us during a time of merriment, so that we may enjoy the bounties our country has bestowed upon us.”
“Aye, thy words bring me great joy, High King Peter,” said King Lune. “And indeed all of us are looking forward to your festivities, the taste of good Narnian food and the pleasure of the company of our Narnian friends.”
“What of your wife, Your Lordship?” asked Susan. “We were very much looking forward to seeing her. Or is she unfit to travel? For we received your news, and we must congratulate you once more on your future heir!”
King Lune shook his head mournfully. “My wife could not come, I am afraid,” he said, but his grin widened. “But I have good news. The Lion has blessed our country, and my wonderful wife is not to bear me only one heir, but two!”
There was a moment of surprise and then much clapping and cheering from everyone who was listening. “A twofold blessing,” said Peter, his smile even brighter than before. “Relay our congratulations and well-wishes to the Queen, for Narnia is eager to get to know the twins who shall inherit our sister country.”
And so it was that all the foreign delegations had arrived, and there was much joy and celebration in the camp, even as King Lune presented the Kings and Queens with books as his gift. “I know they are not gifts of much glamour,” he said. “But books are of much value, and knowledge is the greatest currency of the world.” They thanked him profusely and he introduced the Knights who had come along with him to participate in the festivities: Lord Dar, Lord Darrin, Lord Paldin, Lord Bar, Lord Shar, and young Lord Cole, among others. Most of these were already familiar to the Narnians, for they had visited before.
As the Archenlanders were led to their tents and arrangements were made for everyone, Susan and Lucy took a moment to walk around the camp arm in arm. It wasn’t often that they were able to do this, for they were usually pulled towards different activities, but at the moment it seemed they weren’t needed. Aurelius, Dorick and Mr. Tumnus were making sure everything was in place, and Peter and Edmund were having a long discussion with representatives from every delegation and going of the tourney that would begin the following day; this was complicated, particularly since many of the knights were from different species and had different strengths and weaknesses, which would mean that an entirely new set of rules would have to be set for each species and be enforced carefully.
Lucy was glad in that moment that she understood little of tourneys, not having had the obligation to study it like her brothers, though she had initially felt somewhat left out because of that. Instead, she contented herself with walking around the tents with Susan and watching everyone scramble around carrying boxes and crates from all the newcomers, and making the preparations for dinner, which was to be held in a grassy spot near the center of the camp. She was hungry already.
The large Tree of Shields was nearly completed with the shields of the different knights representing their different countries. All the Narnian shields were there, and all the Galman as well. Some of the Calormene shields and most of the Archenlanders were missing, but that was sure to be righted by the end of the day. The large wooden structure was like a large colorful sign where all the different colors of the different countries came together.
“You really are excited, aren’t you,” said Susan with a grin as she stared at her little sister.
“Can you blame me?” asked Lucy with a giggle. “Just look at it!”
“I’m more excited about the people and the dancing than the actual fights,” Susan admitted. “Though it might all get rather tiresome as time passes.”
Lucy knew what Susan meant, though they would never speak out loud their concerns until they were safely within the walls of the palace. They should not be overheard speaking ill of the monarchs of other countries, but the Galman King had shown that he wouldn’t be someone very easy to deal with. They would find a way, though, Lucy thought. They always did; especially Peter, who always seemed to find energy for anything having to do with ruling.
“Oh! Lucy!”
She turned her head to look to where her sister was looking, and immediately saw what had surprised Susan. Trees had appeared surrounding the entire northern side of the camp where they were walking, their branches reaching upwards and their roots settled in the grass as if they had been there forever. But Lucy knew that these were new arrivals. The Dryads and Hamadryads would never announce their arrival or present themselves before the Kings and Queens; it wasn’t their way. But here they were, and even as they watched they saw the goddess Pomona appear, her hands bearing sweet fruits as she left the branches of her Tree.
“My Queens,” she said in her soft melodious voice, which both seemed sweet and deep at the same time, as if it came from the roots of the tree itself. Susan and Lucy found a fruit in each of their hands, and sampled the savory flesh of Pomona’s gifts, knowing that Pomona would view this as the ultimate courtesy.
“Welcome, Lady Pomona,” Susan said after her first bite. “We thank you kindly for the gifts.”
“My people are at your service, as always, Queen Susan and Queen Lucy,” said the goddess, before retreating into the shadows of the trees once more. All around them the leaves shifted though there was no wind, and as they turned away Lucy felt like she was seeing young people dancing among the tree trunks out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t turn to look at them. Dryads enjoyed their privacy.
//
The first tournament began with the sound of trumpets and a loud cheer that shook the earth with its enthusiasm. Lucy suspected it had something to do with the fact that actual trees were part of the audience.
The main tiltyard had been set up perfectly; though there had been much anxiety among the moles and the larger Talking Beasts about it being sturdy enough to carry the amount of people that was necessary, soon the seating proved to be working perfectly and the different delegations were seated in their own sections, marked by large banners displaying their colors. There was much cheering, and even most of the Calormene slaves had been allowed to watch the tournament and cheer along with the rest as the knights from various countries paraded around the arena displaying their skill.
First came the knights of Archenland with their long colorful capes over silver armor and fair faces, then the knights of Calormen with their scimitars and large stallions, then the knights of Galma with their richly embroidered capes and dusty armor, and last came the knights of Narnia.
Lord Peridan (upon the Talking Horse Rheeph), Oreius and Sarius (both centaurs), Foggy (a rather sleepy bear, but very good when it came to boxing), Inckarik (the only Dwarf they had ever seen who would ride a charger with unbridled -not literally- enthusiasm) and Lord Galen (one of the few human Narnians, who although rather shy, was an extremely able rider and fighter, and rode upon the Talking Horse Frowe) were the knights who rode. Behind them came Ekhar and Ampel, two satyrs, and Revan, the strongest Faun Narnia had ever seen. Both Peter and Edmund had expressed wishes to participate, but were advised against taking part in the actual tournaments: their political presence was too important to risk harm or disgrace on the arena.
“I hope none of them get hurt during the tournament!” Lucy heard Susan exclaim. “They do seem awfully strong.”
“Oh, loosen up, Susan,” Edmund said to her as he stood up to cheer for Oreius, who was now galloping within the circles the stands had formed. “It’s all in good fun.”
Lucy smiled as the Narnians finished their rounds around the arena. Susan was always so worried about everyone.
Beside her, Mr. Tumnus offered her a bowl of grapes even as he popped one into his mouth. She smiled and grabbed one as well, enjoying the delectable taste of the fruits the dryads had provided; it seemed to her even better than the food they enjoyed daily in Cair Paravel. She sat down once more and turned to look at the Faun beside her with a bright smile.
“Enjoying yourself, Lucy?”
Mr. Tumnus was the only person aside from the Pevensies in Narnia who called Lucy by her name. It was at her own request that he did this. Though officially their subject at court, Mr. Tumnus was the closest friend they had, perhaps because he had been the reason they had all ended up in Narnia in the first place. There was a strong bond that held them together, and even more so with Lucy.
“Yes I am,” she said happily. “I still think you should have participated.”
He laughed. “Oh, I know I expressed an interest at the time, but it was merely a fancy of mine. You know me; I am more of a scholar than I am a warrior. I enjoy books and good food too much to occupy much time in exerting myself to train.”
She grabbed another grape. “I might have participated if such a thing were allowed. I’m sure that if any of us four could participate we would have changed those rules that say women can’t fight.” She shook her head. “Perhaps next time.”
“The Calormenes look somewhat uneasy,” Mr. Tumnus remarked with amusement.
Lucy searched the crowd across from them and spotted many Calormenes glancing at the satyrs with more than a little apprehension. “One of them nearly ran away from me earlier today when I was asking them if they needed any help,” said the Faun with a chuckle. “It might take them some time to grow accustomed to us Narnians.”
She grinned. “Very little, I think. They shall get over it once they see how much more exciting it makes everything.”
The Narnians had been the last to present themselves for the review of the knights, and a small bell rang to announce a break while the arena was set up for the first major tournament of the day: a jousting. A cheer went up in the crowd as the people got more comfortable in their seats and dwarves, rabbits and dryads walked around serving drinks and snacks to everyone.
“Speaking of excitement,” Mr. Tumnus murmured. “I can see who certainly seems in need of it.”
Lucy followed his gaze towards the Galman side of the stands and recognized the young Galman Prince as he stood looking almost mournful despite his rich clothes, which he seemed to have had beneath the armor he had worn when he had been riding with the knights, for apparently he was one of them. His riding had been acceptable, but he seemed rather uncomfortable on the saddle and unsure when raising his sword. At the moment, his hair seemed a bit disheveled and his expression showed that he would rather be anywhere but there. Even as they looked, he turned away and moved towards the small flight of steps that led off the stands.
Lucy felt a stab of pity for him. “Let’s follow him.”
Mr. Tumnus looked at her as if she was mad, though the expression was laced with amusement. “We cannot follow him, Lucy!”
She laughed loudly and covered her mouth to try and remain silent. “I do not mean stalk him! I meant we ought to follow him and try to become friends. He seems like he could use it.”
Cadoc was easy to follow; he moved slowly and mournfully through the crowds towards the back of one of the large tents that had been set up further from the frequented paths everyone seemed to follow. They found him sitting on a log there, his chin on his hands as he stared into space with a somber expression.
Lucy swiftly turned and took the bowl of grapes from Mr. Tumnus. She walked up to the Prince of Galma.
“Grapes?”
He glanced up quickly and shook his head. “No thanks.” Then he did a double take and was soon on his feet making many bows. “I- I’m sorry Your Majesty, I- I was-”
Lucy laughed. “Do not worry! It is perfectly fine. And you may call me Lucy; you are among friends.”
Cadoc cleared his throat and coughed, and then cleared his throat again. “I apologize for being away from the festivities, I simply…” he trailed away, his eyes rather wide.
Lucy shook her head and joined the Prince on the log, patting the space on her other side to invite Mr. Tumnus, who joined them as well. “It’s perfectly fine,” she said with a kind smile. “I am away from the festivities as well, after all! This is my good friend Mr. Tumnus.”
The Faun bowed his head towards Cadoc, who bowed his head back rather nervously, his eyes flitting down to Mr. Tumnus’ hooves.
“Yes, he is a Faun,” said Lucy, reading his mind. “It’s a bit surprising for foreigners, we understand. How old are you, Prince Cadoc?”
“Oh, it’s just Cadoc,” said the Prince rather meekly. “I am just fifteen, Your Majesty.”
Lucy giggled and he looked up at her nervously. She shook her head. “Sorry, Cadoc, it’s just funny how often people seem to forget how very young I truly am. Out of the four of us, it is my brother’s age that you are closest to.”
“King Edmund?”
“Why, no,” she said, her eyes dancing. “The High King Peter.”
Not even Mr. Tumnus could help a low chuckle at the look of astonishment on the Galman Prince’s face. “But- but he’s the High King! How can- I- he-” he stammered.
“It’s quite all right, Cadoc,” Lucy said with a smile, for he seemed rather concerned once his initial astonishment had worn off. “My brother does tend to make people think he is much older.”
“No it is not all right!” he exclaimed, and promptly gasped at his outburst and gave an awkward bow. “I am so sorry, Your Majesty. What I mean to say is… it just makes things even worse…!”
Lucy was instantly concerned. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
He sighed and looked at his hands. “It’s… it’s my father,” he muttered. “He expects me to fight at least once during the tournament and he expects me to win. I did not even want to compete, but he says that because I am the Prince I must make our country proud…. and that all I have done so far in my life is be an embarrassment to him and to Galma.”
Mr. Tumnus met her gaze over Cadoc’s head, and they shared a concerned look before Lucy spoke in a gentle voice. “I’m sure that is not true.”
“But it is,” said Cadoc, sounding frustrated. “I cannot fight, I am absolutely terrible at speaking in public, and I am awfully clumsy. And I am supposed to be King someday! It is no wonder my father is ashamed of me.” He sighed. “He hopes that I will make him proud during the tournament but I honestly don’t know how I am going to win.”
“You are probably just nervous, though,” Lucy said kindly. “Maybe you just need to work on your confidence.”
Cadoc shook his head slowly. “It’s not just that. I know I am not the most confident person in the world, but I honestly do not have the talent it takes. I have trained and trained but I just… I cannot do it. I don’t like it, either.” He put his head in his hands. “I don’t know what I am going to do.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Mr. Tumnus spoke. “Well, perhaps the King will notice the effort you put into the fights, my Lord? There are many friends here that will be happy to aid you in practicing. But it is not only the kind of work you have listed that is involved in the tasks of being a Prince, or being a King.”
Cadoc sighed once more. “My father does not see it that way.”
//
The Pevensies met for dinner at noon in one of the large tents that had been prepared for them, sometime after the first few rounds of jousting which had resulted in one Narnian victory and two Calormen ones. The tent was the largest of the three, and the flaps on its sides had been raised to let the sunlight in. Dryads were serving them large dishes of pork and baked vegetables on a low table between some couches. The Fauns were playing their music somewhere nearby, and the merry tune floated into the tent pleasantly.
But despite their outward calm and joyful demeanor, both Edmund and Peter were thoroughly exhausted and somewhat irritated.
“If someone gives me a false compliment through their teeth one more time,” Peter muttered as they entered the tent. “I swear I might just make them lose those teeth.”
Edmund grinned, though he couldn’t help but agree. All the newcomers seemed ridiculously eager to impress them; the Calormenes took every opportunity to compliment their surroundings with quotes from “The poets”, the Galmans would constantly compliment their persons in an attempt to mask the snide remarks they had a tendency to make, and the Archenlanders, though meaning well, sometimes could be overwhelming with their attempts to assert Archenland’s strong friendship with Narnia. All in all, it was beginning to be tiring.
Therefore, they were not so pleased when they discovered that Lord Paldin, who was, as it turned out, a cousin of Lord Peridan, had requested to have dinner with them in representation of his House.
“Lord Paldin is the son of the man who rules one of the richest and most powerful Houses of Archenland,” Peridan told Edmund, somewhat apologetically, when called to them as they considered the request. “It would benefit Your Majesties greatly to strengthen your friendship with his House, as the alliance might prove useful to Narnia in moments of need.”
Edmund glanced at his siblings as they sat near him on the couches. They all looked at Peter. Peter gave a slight shrug as his fingers played with the silver fork which they could tell he was yearning to use. “I suppose we ought to,” he said in a low voice. “This is one of the reasons for why we are hosting the Festival, after all. Let your cousin know he is welcome to join us.”
Peridan left them and the four of them glanced at each other in silence for a moment, before digging in to the meal before them. It was delicious, and they were extremely hungry. Edmund waved a hand after the first few bites.
“Remember, we’ve got to eat slowly or we’ll be done with the meal by the time Paldin gets here.”
They sighed and tried to eat more slowly.
“Honestly,” said Peter, after swallowing a mouthful of chicken. “I’m just relieved everything has finally been set in place.”
They were abruptly interrupted by Witrow, who informed them that the delegation of Bears that had come from further up North were rather offended about how distant their tents were, given that Foggy was fighting in the tourney and all the other knights apparently were nearer to the center of the campsite. It was Susan who tackled the issue quickly, and actually managed to solve the problem by offering them compensation in the form of a place as marshal of the lists during the melee combats that were carried out with Narnians as participants, before Lord Paldin made his way to their tent, entering with a low bow, escorted by Peridan.
“Your Majesties, it is an honor,” said Paldin. He actually seemed quite a pleasant man; a fact Edmund was very glad of, because it might help make the dinner lighter in mood despite the politics that would be involved.
“The honor is ours, Lord Paldin,” said Susan politely, gesturing towards a chair that had been brought to the table. “Please make yourself at home. And my Lord Peridan, please do us the honor of joining us as well, your presence is most welcomed at our table.”
With a smile and a bow, Peridan joined them as well, and they began to fill their plates.
“We have heard many good things of your House, Lord Paldin,” said Peter. “We were pleased to hear that it is located quite near to our borders.”
“Indeed, Your Highness,” said Lord Paldin with a pleased smile. He seemed almost nervous. It occurred to Edmund that perhaps this man had had orders to strike an alliance with them. He felt some pity; it was both amusing and rather depressing when a friendly conversation took place and neither party wanted to be there. “It is a lovely castle, set right between the last hills before Narnia begins. We are surrounded by the beauty of Archenland and Narnia; it is quite a thrilling mix.”
A bottle of wine was opened and served, and Peter rose his glass. “Let us drink to the health of your House, Lord Paldin,” he said. “May-”
His voice fell short as they heard what was unmistakably a scuffle outside. Through the openings on the sides of the tents, they could tell that the guards seemed to be arguing with someone. Edmund met Peter’s gaze and saw a flicker of worry on his brother’s face. But no sentries came to warn them, so Peter returned his eyes to the situation at hand.
“Forgive me,” he said, clearing his throat. “May the Lion bless your family and your country just as He has blessed ours.”
They all raised their glasses, and suddenly loud barking was heard and something came rushing into the tent at full speed, crashing into the table and upsetting the dishes with a loud smash, followed by two Fauns who had pulled out their swords. Lucy reached for her knife with surprising swiftness, and the Kings’ hands moved to their swords, Peter standing up quickly.
“What is the meaning of this?” he cried, and his eyes met a shaking brown dog that barked loudly as he nearly stood on his hind legs on the table. The Fauns were rushing forward to pull the animal away.
“Do not drink the wine, Your Majesties! Do not drink the wine!” the dog barked loudly, his eyes wide with terror. “It is poison! You must not touch it!”
Lucy gasped and dropped the glass she had been rising to her lips only moments earlier. But the guards were already pulling the dog away.
“Nay, stop,” said Peter, raising a hand. “What are you saying?”
The dog was shaking with fear, and his words escaped in one rushed breath in the manner of most dogs. “I am the hound with the best sense of smell in all of Narnia; Your Majesty may ask anyone. I am better at smelling than Moonwood The Hare was at hearing. And I am telling you, the wine is poisoned. It will kill those who drink from it!”
“How can you know?” Susan asked, but everyone turned as a loud noise was heard and Lord Paldin fell backwards onto the grass in his chair, shuddering and clutching his stomach.
“See, he has drunk from it already!” the dog cried fearfully.
Instantly, Peridan was on the ground beside the shivering man, pulling him up from the now broken chair and then moving out of the way as Paldin doubled over and vomited violently on the grass. His features were pale and bloodless, and his hands shook violently as he seemed to gasp for air, unable to speak.
“Quickly, take him to the healers!” Lucy exclaimed, pale as well.
“No,” said Edmund, so sharply that all turned to look at him despite the direness of the situation.
“Are you mad?” Susan exclaimed. “He is-”
Edmund turned to the alarmed Fauns, who were at loss, not knowing which orders to follow. “No, bring the healers here, as fast as they can run.”
Part 1
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Author:
nasimwritesRecipient:
jn208505Rating: T
Content/Warnings: Violence, some dark themes.
Summary: “Here was once a land of joy and plenty, once torn apart by the Long Winter and now twice torn apart by those who dare call themselves saviors of Narnia.” Summer brings new challenges for the Pevensies.
Author’s Notes: Thank you, Janet, for being my beta even though it was on short notice!
This story was originally meant to be less than 16 pages in length, but it mutated and grew and is now over 100 pages in length and has nearly 60,000 words… I hope you don’t mind reading a novel-length fic!
Chapter 2
The sand tickled Lucy’s feet as it made its way into her shoes, but she resisted the urge of pulling them off and walking barefoot; this was not the time. The group was not as loud as it had been before as they drew nearer to the shore, though the Fauns skipped from here to there joyfully and there was a pleasant yet hushed chatter among the Talking Beasts. Peter led the way over the sand, his crown and his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight, looking truly magnificent.
As the Galman Ship drew nearer they could see the banners that the ship flagrantly displayed: the silver bear catching a fish in its jaws over a blue and green background. It was a low yet long ship, with large triangular sails that gleamed white in the sunlight, flags fluttering in the wind high above them. Countless rows swished to and fro as the ship neared Narnia, its long, thin prow aiming for Cair Paravel. They could see men moving on the deck. Edmund shifted nervously.
“It looks different than the pictures I’ve seen in England,” he said over the noise of the crashing waves.
“It’s a beautiful ship,” Susan remarked.
Lucy’s eyes gleamed. “We should get a Narnian ship built!”
Edmund looked interested. “We would have to find someone with experience in that, though,” he said in a low voice. “And I don’t see anyone around here that might have it…” He glanced at the dwarves who were shaking sand out of their boots and then at some of the Talking Beasts, particularly the feline ones, who were looking rather miffed at the feel of the strong wind and the loud water.
Peter didn’t have a chance to make a remark, because the ship had almost reached them. They stepped onto the dock and a badger walked forwards to offer Susan a parasol, which she politely refused. While the badger moved towards the back of the group, the rest rearranged themselves behind the Kings and Queens; the centaurs guarding them on either side, Dorick, the Faun with the banner, and a leopard named Witrow right behind them and the rest following afterwards.
As the ship drew nearer, Lucy could see words emblazoned in dark paint upon the side of the prow: The Star Seeker. It was a good name, she thought, but rather unusual. The sides of it had been painted a deep blue, and from where she was, she could see the rows of sailors sitting below the deck. They no longer had to row, however, for the waves were doing their work for them and The Star Seeker was docking on her own.
“King Reghorius is the son of King Serlam II, and he comes from a long line of Kings descended from the man who founded Galma.” Dorick was speaking in a low voice to the four of them.
“So it’s been in the family for ages.”
“Yes, Sire. Galma’s main trade is fishing, and most of its commerce is directed towards Calormen, though some of it goes to the Seven Isles from time to time. They’ve managed to stay away from any of the mainland wars and haven’t had a battle for years. Its relationship with Narnia prior to the Great Winter was good, but there were rumors that they refused Narnia aid when the Witch first began her attacks, which caused them to lose all their trade with Archenland, who has remained our steady ally since its very beginning.”
“I don’t like them,” said Witrow matter-of-factly. “They smell like fish.”
“I thought you liked fish,” Edmund put in out of the corner of his mouth as some dwarves, centaurs and satyrs moved forwards to help anchor the ship and place the boardwalk.
“Not rotten fish,” said Witrow, looking offended.
Lucy could see the sailors now, and she could easily pick out the knights among them for their bright clothes of bright greens and browns. They stood proudly, wearing short swords on their belts, some of them carrying shields or a quiver of arrows and a bow. Their skin had once been pale, but they were burnt brown by the sun. Lucy couldn’t smell rotten fish of any sort from the boat, but she could hear the leopards muttering behind her.
Slowly, a small group of people began to disembark. Ahead of them all walked a banner man carrying the emblem of the Galman Nation, and behind him came King Reghorius of Galma, a very plump, short man with graying hair and a short grey beard which hid his neck from view. He wore long robes of bright blue and silver sash. On his fingers were many rings. His crown was large and glimmered silver as he dismounted with some difficulty, rubbing his hands together momentarily and then outstretching them, inclining his head slightly in their direction. His skin was tan, yet not as dark as that of his subjects, and his blue eyes gleamed as he met their gaze.
“My Lords and Ladies,” said the King of Galma, greeting them with a courteous smile that almost seemed forced. “It is an honor to be here, in a country we once thought long lost to us humans.”
Edmund caught the furtive glance the King gave towards the centaurs and the Fauns nearby. He held back a smirk.
“I thought all the Galmans ate was fish!” Witrow exclaimed in a loud, amused whisper that thankfully didn’t carry towards the Galman delegation. “How does a man get that fat?”
“Quiet, Witrow!” Oreius hissed in his deep voice. Witrow fell quiet, his ears flat on his head. As daring as the leopard was, he wasn’t mad enough to cross a centaur.
“We are equally honored to have you as our guest during the Summer Festival, King Reghorius,” said Peter with an amiable smile from where he sat. “We hope you enjoy the accommodations we have provided for you and your men, and we look forward to celebrating alongside Galma during these merry days.”
“You are very kind,” said the King, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “I am pleased to see that though you are young, your country seems to thrive under your rule, King Peter.”
“High King Peter,” Edmund put in, a polite smile on his lips. “All four of us are Kings and Queens, but my brother is the High King.”
Nobody missed the condescension in the King’s voice or the look in his eyes when he apologized. “Forgive me, High King Peter,” he said. “You must understand that it is all rather confusing for your neighbors.”
The silence could have been tense had the King not turned to motion towards something behind him.
“Allow me to present my son, Cadoc,” he said, and a young boy no older than fifteen stepped forwards rather awkwardly. He was tall and lanky, his blonde hair falling in his face a bit and his eyes furtive as he bowed before them. He had the distinct look of someone who feels sick and is trying to hide it.
“Your Majesties,” he said in a low voice.
“Speak louder,” they heard the King mutter to his son through his forced a smile, before continuing to speak to them. “You must forgive my son; he is not feeling well at the moment, but I assure you that he will be participating in the tourneys and win our country some admiration through sparring during this festival.”
“I am sure we will all find it most enjoyable,” Peter said, his smile genuine as he glanced towards Cadoc, who really did seem on the verge of having an upset stomach.
“And this is my wife, Queen Amisse.” Said the King, gesturing to his side. A young woman appeared; Susan thought she didn’t look a day over thirty; she felt an odd stab of pity in her chest. The Queen looked rather shy as she bowed before them, and Susan smiled at her kindly. Amisse smiled back tentatively.
While the monarchs had been speaking, the knights had moved to stand behind the King of Galma and his son in a line. One by one, they began to introduce themselves: Lord Desmet, Lord Backqer, Lord Janghar, Lord Claeys, and many others. Some of them were quite young, while others seemed to be rather old for the intense physical activity they were expected to partake in. Meanwhile, the sailors brought all manner of boxes, crates and chests from the ship, and also led a few horses off the ship. A small group of men moved forwards from the delegation and set down a small chest before the dais.
“A small gift for Narnia to remember Galma by,” said the King with an arrogant smile. A Dwarf stepped forwards from behind the Pevensies to take the chest and put it away, where it would be taken to the treasury of Cair Paravel.
“Strings of true pearls from the depths of the Galman Sea,” said the King. “I hope you find the gift to your likings.”
“They are lovely,” Susan said with a bright smile. “Indeed the nation of Galma is most generous. We are afraid we have little to offer in exchange for such generosity.”
“We could start by a good flagon of mead,” said the King with a laugh.
“Mead shall be provided, then,” said Peter with a chuckle. “And good wine and beer as well, for your family and all your men.”
//
The badgers and the Fauns set up a small tent with chairs near the dock for the Pevensies, for the gryphon had flown over them once more, announcing that the Calormene ship was but half an hour away. So, while the Narnians helped the visitors carry their things to camp and provided horses for the King and his family, the Pevensies sat in the shade and listened to the sound of the waves and of the many voices of the people around them while eating fresh fruit that a dryad had just brought for them.
Lucy had a far-off look in her eyes as she buried her now bare feet in the sand and took a bite out of a ripe peach. Susan knew what she was going to say before she said it.
“Remember that time we went to the beach with Mother and Father?”
Edmund laughed. “The water was ice cold but you got in anyway because you said you didn’t want to miss out on the experience.”
Lucy giggled, leaning back in her seat, because nearly all the visitors had left the shore by now. “That was about… two years ago. Well, that is counting years in England, without counting these two years in Narnia. So, four years, really. Or was it more?”
Nobody said anything. Lucy shrugged and sighed contentedly, but Susan frowned.
“Where was it?”
“What?” asked Edmund, turning to look at her.
“That beach,” he said. “Where was it?”
“I don’t know,” said Edmund bemusedly. “Does it matter?”
“Edmund, we went to that town nearly every summer holiday before the war started. We should know!”
“Well I don’t!” Edmund said, looking taken aback. “I don’t remember where it was.”
They fell into an uncomfortable silence, and they all looked at each other before looking away quickly. It was one of those things that they didn’t like talking about much; England. Too many confusing conversations ensued. Susan wasn’t sure why it was confusing, but that was the way it was. It was as if England was slowly slipping out of their memories.
She shook herself. It shouldn’t matter. They were in Narnia now.
//
The Calormene ship appeared on the horizon soon afterwards, and this time they had more time to fully appreciate the view of the ship as it neared the shores of Narnia. It was vastly different from any ship they had ever seen, though it seemed vaguely familiar to Susan, as if he had seen that kind of ship once before, perhaps in some kind of history book.
It was an extremely long ship, low and almost like a box, with a single mast rising up from its center, the sail displaying the Calormen emblem of the dark Bird-headed god, Tash, against a white background. The ship turned as they watched it, and Lucy caught sight of the paintings at the front of the ship just above the prow, which was painted gold: the ship had eyes, as if it was staring at them. The eyes didn’t look unfriendly, but they were strange. She looked away.
Countless colorful shields were displayed on the sides of the ship, making it particularly colorful, for Calormene shields had art carved onto them of different kinds.
“The Tarkaan Houses of The Empire of Calormen,” Dorick explained as they stood in a formation once more to receive the newcomers. “It’s tradition to display all their shields on a ship when neighboring a foreign country.”
Beneath the deck of the ship, what seemed like hundreds of rows moved back and forth, steering the ship and nearing it to the harbor. There was something different about the way these men rowed from the way the sailors from Galma did. Perhaps it was the way they were so rhythmical and precise from the moment the rows touched the water until they left it and repeated the cycle. Either way, something about it seemed distinctly uncanny to Lucy.
From the distance they were at, they couldn’t make out the faces of the group of men that stood on the deck of the ship, but they could see the fluttering colorful silken cloth of their clothes and their distinct Calormene turbans and pointed helmets.
The ship, which had no visible name, moved swiftly, and in almost no time at all it was being anchored by a strong dark skinned sailor dressed in white. Lucy could now see the people standing on the deck of the ship more clearly. At the head of the group were two men dressed in colorful tunics, their beards deep raven black and their turbans made of golden and silver cloth, with scimitars at their sides. It was obvious from their stance that they were the highest authority on the ship. Behind them stood those whom Lucy assumed were the Tarkaans of lower rank, standing tall and proud.
Dorick continued to murmur behind them. “The one with the golden turban is Jarrash Tarkaan, Crown Prince of the Empire of Calormene.”
“So that’s the future King,” murmured Susan. “I understand the Tisroc is quite old.”
“I doubt it,” they heard Witrow say in a low growl, his tone more serious this time. “Even us Talking Beasts know about them.”
“What do you mean?” Peter asked quickly.
The Red Dwarf sighed grimly. “He was third in the line, Sire,” he said. “The two princes before him have died only in the past year. No one believes Jarrash will make it to the throne; I doubt even he is sure of it by now. The current Tisroc began his rule hardly nine months ago, but he already has fifteen sons with different wives and no doubt shall have more born before his rule is over. The political battle for the throne has only just begun.”
They said nothing for a moment, watching the banner of Tash fluttering in the wind in a way that almost made its arms seem to be reaching out. The man with the golden turban stepped off of the ship, followed by his entourage, while those who had been rowing secured the ship and began to disembark large parcels and crates. A few horses were also brought down; large stallions that greatly rivaled the tired-looking, dusty animals from Galma.
“Third in the line, then,” Edmund mused in a low voice, out of the Calormene’s earshot. “So what happened to the brother before him?”
Dorick remained silent, but his unease was nearly tangible. Witrow growled softly. “These wear perfume,” he said, and sneezed violently.
Lucy held back a laugh despite the severity of the conversation.
Jarrash Tarkaan stepped forward with a grace that came from years of training. His dark skin shone in the sunlight, looking almost as soft as the silks he wore, and the smile he offered them from beneath his beard was proud but sincere. He gave them an extremely complex bow.
“There are five different kinds of bows in Calormen etiquette,” Dorick whispered quickly. “The Prince just gave you the fourth kind, which is performed before those slightly above one’s rank, yet below that of the Tisroc, whom is the authority just above him. He is doing Your Majesties honor in a befitting way.”
Peter smiled just as the Prince began to speak in a deep, melodious.
“My name is Jarrash Tarkaan and I am the Crown Prince of the Empire of Calormen and first heir to her throne, son of Adeben Tisroc himself (may he live forever), the son of Ishaq Tisroc, the son of Ilsombreh Tisroc, the son of Ardeeb Tisroc who was descended in a right line from the god Tash. I come to represent the country of my father’s ruling before our most esteemed allies of the Kingdom of Narnia, and in his name I bestow upon Your Majesties his most effusive greetings and well-wishes. May your rule over this country be blessed by the gods and may your lives be eternal.”
“You are very gracious, Prince Jarrash,” said Peter, “It is an honor to count you and your people among us during these festivities. And we beg that you relay our gratitude to your father the Tisroc. May the friendship between our countries last forever.”
The contrast between the greetings that had been offered by the Galman delegation and that of Calormen was great, and Lucy almost wished that the King of Galma had been present. She was instantly impressed by the elegance of the manner the people of Calormen displayed; despite the vicious politics she had heard they played, one could not deny that their court manners were astoundingly appealing.
The man with the silver turban who had remained at Jarrash Tarkaan’s side stepped forwards, and fell to one knee in another display of respect, much like the Prince’s but even more deferential. When he looked up, Lucy saw a younger face which struck her as surprisingly kind and humble for a man of such rank. His eyes reminded her of those of the Narnian Fauns… both full of joy and mournful at the same time.
“My name is Ishamiel Tarkaan and I am the eighth in the line of the throne held by my venerable father, Adeben Tisroc (may he live forever), the son of Ishaq Tisroc, the son of Ilsombreh Tisroc, the son of Ardeeb Tisroc who was descended in a right line from the almighty god Tash. It is an honor for me to accompany my brother in this invitation to join the festivities of the Kingdom of Narnia, and in the name of my brother and my country I present you with the gifts the Tisroc (may he live forever) has bidden us to impart upon Your Majesties, as a demonstration of Calormen’s amity and generosity.”
As he spoke, six men dressed in simple white trousers and sashes, their chests bare, stepped forwards and placed upon the wooden floors between the Pevensies and the Princes one small chest and two large cylindrical packages.
They then prostrated themselves on the floor behind the items and one of them exclaimed in a heavy Calormen accent, though Lucy couldn’t identify which one of them it was. “These gifts the almighty Tisroc (may he live forever!) presents to the High King Peter, King Edmund, Queen Susan and Queen Lucy of the Kingdom of Narnia: two carpets of the most delicate and intricate weaving such as only royalty of Calormen can afford, to decorate the floors of their Majesty’s homes in remembrance of their sister Calormen, and a chest of gold and Calormen spice the such of which is not found in any other land in the world!”
The men backed away and retreated behind the Tarkaans of Calormen. Two dwarves stepped forwards to grab hold of the gifts and put them away. Edmund could tell that the Calormenes were doing their best to hide their unease around the strange creatures they could see walking before them.
“The generosity of Calormen is great,” said Peter courteously. And indeed the gifts looked wondrous. “Narnia can only hope to entertain and gladden you with our festivities; and indeed we hope you find your time among us enjoyable. Should you or your people require anything, do not hesitate to ask.”
Jarrash smiled. “I am sure that we shall be completely satisfied. Long has my father the Tisroc (may he live forever) said that Narnia has brought blessings upon our house, for it happens that the very week Your Majesties brought an end to the Great Winter, the Tisroc was crowned and given the powers to rule.”
“Oh, but we cannot take gratitude for such actions,” Lucy spoke up suddenly, surprising everyone. “For it was not we, who are but simple mortals, but the Great Lion Aslan, who put an end to the winter and allowed us to defeat the White Witch. Should the blessings of both our countries be connected, it is by the grace of Aslan that it came to be, not by our humble hands.”
Lucy could tell that the Tarkaans did not know what to say. As adorers of Tash they would not agree, but they would show them respect. All Jarrash did was bow very low, and he moved to a side as the Tarkaans behind them introduced themselves: Ilgamuth, Khaldun, Khalid, Alimash, Masud, among others. The names were all blurred in Lucy’s mind.
“You are welcome to share some wine with us before we leave for the camp near The Cair,” Peter said, once the introductions were over. “We shall open many barrels for all of your men once they are done unloading the ship, so we might all partake in a drink.”
“Worry not about them, Your Lordship,” said Jarrash casually, waving a hand towards the shirtless men dressed in white. “The slaves have no need for your courtesy. Simple drinks of water will suffice once the end of the day draws near.”
“We lose nothing from granting them a drink of wine,” said Edmund with a smile that hid extremely well what Lucy knew was disgust at the idea of slaves. “For in Narnia every living thing is free.”
Jarrash bowed once more, his expression showing that he felt both impressed and confused at the same time. It occurred to Lucy that perhaps the idea of a nation without slaves hadn’t occurred to him. “Very well, if Your Majesties see fit for them to benefit from your ample generosity, then so be it. It does no harm to me or my men, but do not feel like you must care for our slaves.”
So barrels of wine were brought forth and all shared a drink, even the Calormene slaves, who seemed quite moved by the gesture. Lucy wished with all her heart that she could approach them and speak to them, but it was clear from Edmund’s slight shake of his head that such a thing would be deemed offensive by the Tarkaans and therefore was certainly not a good idea. There was some relief in the knowledge that the Narnians would not understand the concept of slavery, however, and would treat the slaves much better than the Calormenes were likely to do in their own country.
As they rode back to camp, Lucy could see the newcomers eyeing the Fauns, the Talking Beasts and the Centaurs with no little trepidation. It didn’t help that some of the creatures took advantage of it. She caught sight of Witrow staring at one of the Tarkaans in a way that would even startle her even if it were being done in only a joking way, which was what she suspected the leopard was doing; it probably had something to do with the perfume he had claimed they wore. She threw the animal a chiding look as she rode her horse along with the many carts and other riders back to camp.
“When do you think Lune will be arriving?” Edmund asked Peter as they dismounted near the dais they had been sitting on to receive the Narnians earlier that day. Looking up, he saw that his brother was staring off at something towards the hills.
“Actually,” said Peter with a grin. “I think he’s arriving as we speak.”
Hurriedly, while the Calormenes and the Galmans were having their seating arranged under other pavilions nearby and were settling down into them, the Pevensies returned to their seats to await the delegation for Archenland. Unlike the wait for the people of Galma and Calormen, this one had no tension in the air, only merriment. King Lune had visited them often since their coronation and had made it very clear that he was their friend, both as King and as a fellow human being, and he had given them much advice that had proved useful to them. He was almost like family to the Pevensies, and they knew that though there were many things they were not sure of when ruling Narnia, betrayal from Archenland was not one of them.
King Lune rode in on his saddle looking rather dusty from the trip but with his characteristic jolly smile on his lips. He was a very plump man with golden hair that already had some lines of grey in it, and he wore a large hat with two feathers on it. For once, Witrow had nothing witty to say about this man, because like the other Talking Beasts he was nearly purring with joy at the sight of this friend of Narnia.
“My friends!” cried King Lune as he approached, followed by a large group of people dressed in deep reds and greens in the fashion of Archenland, and bearing the coat of arms of the country: a red cross against a golden background. He halted his horse many feet away from the dais and dismounted, bowing deeply as he always did. “It is such an honor to be before you once more, High King Peter, Queen Susan, King Edmund and Queen Lucy.”
“It is we who are honored by your presence, King Lune,” said Peter with a smile. “Long have you been our ally and our friend in times of trouble and difficulty. It seems only fitting that you join us during a time of merriment, so that we may enjoy the bounties our country has bestowed upon us.”
“Aye, thy words bring me great joy, High King Peter,” said King Lune. “And indeed all of us are looking forward to your festivities, the taste of good Narnian food and the pleasure of the company of our Narnian friends.”
“What of your wife, Your Lordship?” asked Susan. “We were very much looking forward to seeing her. Or is she unfit to travel? For we received your news, and we must congratulate you once more on your future heir!”
King Lune shook his head mournfully. “My wife could not come, I am afraid,” he said, but his grin widened. “But I have good news. The Lion has blessed our country, and my wonderful wife is not to bear me only one heir, but two!”
There was a moment of surprise and then much clapping and cheering from everyone who was listening. “A twofold blessing,” said Peter, his smile even brighter than before. “Relay our congratulations and well-wishes to the Queen, for Narnia is eager to get to know the twins who shall inherit our sister country.”
And so it was that all the foreign delegations had arrived, and there was much joy and celebration in the camp, even as King Lune presented the Kings and Queens with books as his gift. “I know they are not gifts of much glamour,” he said. “But books are of much value, and knowledge is the greatest currency of the world.” They thanked him profusely and he introduced the Knights who had come along with him to participate in the festivities: Lord Dar, Lord Darrin, Lord Paldin, Lord Bar, Lord Shar, and young Lord Cole, among others. Most of these were already familiar to the Narnians, for they had visited before.
As the Archenlanders were led to their tents and arrangements were made for everyone, Susan and Lucy took a moment to walk around the camp arm in arm. It wasn’t often that they were able to do this, for they were usually pulled towards different activities, but at the moment it seemed they weren’t needed. Aurelius, Dorick and Mr. Tumnus were making sure everything was in place, and Peter and Edmund were having a long discussion with representatives from every delegation and going of the tourney that would begin the following day; this was complicated, particularly since many of the knights were from different species and had different strengths and weaknesses, which would mean that an entirely new set of rules would have to be set for each species and be enforced carefully.
Lucy was glad in that moment that she understood little of tourneys, not having had the obligation to study it like her brothers, though she had initially felt somewhat left out because of that. Instead, she contented herself with walking around the tents with Susan and watching everyone scramble around carrying boxes and crates from all the newcomers, and making the preparations for dinner, which was to be held in a grassy spot near the center of the camp. She was hungry already.
The large Tree of Shields was nearly completed with the shields of the different knights representing their different countries. All the Narnian shields were there, and all the Galman as well. Some of the Calormene shields and most of the Archenlanders were missing, but that was sure to be righted by the end of the day. The large wooden structure was like a large colorful sign where all the different colors of the different countries came together.
“You really are excited, aren’t you,” said Susan with a grin as she stared at her little sister.
“Can you blame me?” asked Lucy with a giggle. “Just look at it!”
“I’m more excited about the people and the dancing than the actual fights,” Susan admitted. “Though it might all get rather tiresome as time passes.”
Lucy knew what Susan meant, though they would never speak out loud their concerns until they were safely within the walls of the palace. They should not be overheard speaking ill of the monarchs of other countries, but the Galman King had shown that he wouldn’t be someone very easy to deal with. They would find a way, though, Lucy thought. They always did; especially Peter, who always seemed to find energy for anything having to do with ruling.
“Oh! Lucy!”
She turned her head to look to where her sister was looking, and immediately saw what had surprised Susan. Trees had appeared surrounding the entire northern side of the camp where they were walking, their branches reaching upwards and their roots settled in the grass as if they had been there forever. But Lucy knew that these were new arrivals. The Dryads and Hamadryads would never announce their arrival or present themselves before the Kings and Queens; it wasn’t their way. But here they were, and even as they watched they saw the goddess Pomona appear, her hands bearing sweet fruits as she left the branches of her Tree.
“My Queens,” she said in her soft melodious voice, which both seemed sweet and deep at the same time, as if it came from the roots of the tree itself. Susan and Lucy found a fruit in each of their hands, and sampled the savory flesh of Pomona’s gifts, knowing that Pomona would view this as the ultimate courtesy.
“Welcome, Lady Pomona,” Susan said after her first bite. “We thank you kindly for the gifts.”
“My people are at your service, as always, Queen Susan and Queen Lucy,” said the goddess, before retreating into the shadows of the trees once more. All around them the leaves shifted though there was no wind, and as they turned away Lucy felt like she was seeing young people dancing among the tree trunks out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t turn to look at them. Dryads enjoyed their privacy.
//
The first tournament began with the sound of trumpets and a loud cheer that shook the earth with its enthusiasm. Lucy suspected it had something to do with the fact that actual trees were part of the audience.
The main tiltyard had been set up perfectly; though there had been much anxiety among the moles and the larger Talking Beasts about it being sturdy enough to carry the amount of people that was necessary, soon the seating proved to be working perfectly and the different delegations were seated in their own sections, marked by large banners displaying their colors. There was much cheering, and even most of the Calormene slaves had been allowed to watch the tournament and cheer along with the rest as the knights from various countries paraded around the arena displaying their skill.
First came the knights of Archenland with their long colorful capes over silver armor and fair faces, then the knights of Calormen with their scimitars and large stallions, then the knights of Galma with their richly embroidered capes and dusty armor, and last came the knights of Narnia.
Lord Peridan (upon the Talking Horse Rheeph), Oreius and Sarius (both centaurs), Foggy (a rather sleepy bear, but very good when it came to boxing), Inckarik (the only Dwarf they had ever seen who would ride a charger with unbridled -not literally- enthusiasm) and Lord Galen (one of the few human Narnians, who although rather shy, was an extremely able rider and fighter, and rode upon the Talking Horse Frowe) were the knights who rode. Behind them came Ekhar and Ampel, two satyrs, and Revan, the strongest Faun Narnia had ever seen. Both Peter and Edmund had expressed wishes to participate, but were advised against taking part in the actual tournaments: their political presence was too important to risk harm or disgrace on the arena.
“I hope none of them get hurt during the tournament!” Lucy heard Susan exclaim. “They do seem awfully strong.”
“Oh, loosen up, Susan,” Edmund said to her as he stood up to cheer for Oreius, who was now galloping within the circles the stands had formed. “It’s all in good fun.”
Lucy smiled as the Narnians finished their rounds around the arena. Susan was always so worried about everyone.
Beside her, Mr. Tumnus offered her a bowl of grapes even as he popped one into his mouth. She smiled and grabbed one as well, enjoying the delectable taste of the fruits the dryads had provided; it seemed to her even better than the food they enjoyed daily in Cair Paravel. She sat down once more and turned to look at the Faun beside her with a bright smile.
“Enjoying yourself, Lucy?”
Mr. Tumnus was the only person aside from the Pevensies in Narnia who called Lucy by her name. It was at her own request that he did this. Though officially their subject at court, Mr. Tumnus was the closest friend they had, perhaps because he had been the reason they had all ended up in Narnia in the first place. There was a strong bond that held them together, and even more so with Lucy.
“Yes I am,” she said happily. “I still think you should have participated.”
He laughed. “Oh, I know I expressed an interest at the time, but it was merely a fancy of mine. You know me; I am more of a scholar than I am a warrior. I enjoy books and good food too much to occupy much time in exerting myself to train.”
She grabbed another grape. “I might have participated if such a thing were allowed. I’m sure that if any of us four could participate we would have changed those rules that say women can’t fight.” She shook her head. “Perhaps next time.”
“The Calormenes look somewhat uneasy,” Mr. Tumnus remarked with amusement.
Lucy searched the crowd across from them and spotted many Calormenes glancing at the satyrs with more than a little apprehension. “One of them nearly ran away from me earlier today when I was asking them if they needed any help,” said the Faun with a chuckle. “It might take them some time to grow accustomed to us Narnians.”
She grinned. “Very little, I think. They shall get over it once they see how much more exciting it makes everything.”
The Narnians had been the last to present themselves for the review of the knights, and a small bell rang to announce a break while the arena was set up for the first major tournament of the day: a jousting. A cheer went up in the crowd as the people got more comfortable in their seats and dwarves, rabbits and dryads walked around serving drinks and snacks to everyone.
“Speaking of excitement,” Mr. Tumnus murmured. “I can see who certainly seems in need of it.”
Lucy followed his gaze towards the Galman side of the stands and recognized the young Galman Prince as he stood looking almost mournful despite his rich clothes, which he seemed to have had beneath the armor he had worn when he had been riding with the knights, for apparently he was one of them. His riding had been acceptable, but he seemed rather uncomfortable on the saddle and unsure when raising his sword. At the moment, his hair seemed a bit disheveled and his expression showed that he would rather be anywhere but there. Even as they looked, he turned away and moved towards the small flight of steps that led off the stands.
Lucy felt a stab of pity for him. “Let’s follow him.”
Mr. Tumnus looked at her as if she was mad, though the expression was laced with amusement. “We cannot follow him, Lucy!”
She laughed loudly and covered her mouth to try and remain silent. “I do not mean stalk him! I meant we ought to follow him and try to become friends. He seems like he could use it.”
Cadoc was easy to follow; he moved slowly and mournfully through the crowds towards the back of one of the large tents that had been set up further from the frequented paths everyone seemed to follow. They found him sitting on a log there, his chin on his hands as he stared into space with a somber expression.
Lucy swiftly turned and took the bowl of grapes from Mr. Tumnus. She walked up to the Prince of Galma.
“Grapes?”
He glanced up quickly and shook his head. “No thanks.” Then he did a double take and was soon on his feet making many bows. “I- I’m sorry Your Majesty, I- I was-”
Lucy laughed. “Do not worry! It is perfectly fine. And you may call me Lucy; you are among friends.”
Cadoc cleared his throat and coughed, and then cleared his throat again. “I apologize for being away from the festivities, I simply…” he trailed away, his eyes rather wide.
Lucy shook her head and joined the Prince on the log, patting the space on her other side to invite Mr. Tumnus, who joined them as well. “It’s perfectly fine,” she said with a kind smile. “I am away from the festivities as well, after all! This is my good friend Mr. Tumnus.”
The Faun bowed his head towards Cadoc, who bowed his head back rather nervously, his eyes flitting down to Mr. Tumnus’ hooves.
“Yes, he is a Faun,” said Lucy, reading his mind. “It’s a bit surprising for foreigners, we understand. How old are you, Prince Cadoc?”
“Oh, it’s just Cadoc,” said the Prince rather meekly. “I am just fifteen, Your Majesty.”
Lucy giggled and he looked up at her nervously. She shook her head. “Sorry, Cadoc, it’s just funny how often people seem to forget how very young I truly am. Out of the four of us, it is my brother’s age that you are closest to.”
“King Edmund?”
“Why, no,” she said, her eyes dancing. “The High King Peter.”
Not even Mr. Tumnus could help a low chuckle at the look of astonishment on the Galman Prince’s face. “But- but he’s the High King! How can- I- he-” he stammered.
“It’s quite all right, Cadoc,” Lucy said with a smile, for he seemed rather concerned once his initial astonishment had worn off. “My brother does tend to make people think he is much older.”
“No it is not all right!” he exclaimed, and promptly gasped at his outburst and gave an awkward bow. “I am so sorry, Your Majesty. What I mean to say is… it just makes things even worse…!”
Lucy was instantly concerned. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
He sighed and looked at his hands. “It’s… it’s my father,” he muttered. “He expects me to fight at least once during the tournament and he expects me to win. I did not even want to compete, but he says that because I am the Prince I must make our country proud…. and that all I have done so far in my life is be an embarrassment to him and to Galma.”
Mr. Tumnus met her gaze over Cadoc’s head, and they shared a concerned look before Lucy spoke in a gentle voice. “I’m sure that is not true.”
“But it is,” said Cadoc, sounding frustrated. “I cannot fight, I am absolutely terrible at speaking in public, and I am awfully clumsy. And I am supposed to be King someday! It is no wonder my father is ashamed of me.” He sighed. “He hopes that I will make him proud during the tournament but I honestly don’t know how I am going to win.”
“You are probably just nervous, though,” Lucy said kindly. “Maybe you just need to work on your confidence.”
Cadoc shook his head slowly. “It’s not just that. I know I am not the most confident person in the world, but I honestly do not have the talent it takes. I have trained and trained but I just… I cannot do it. I don’t like it, either.” He put his head in his hands. “I don’t know what I am going to do.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Mr. Tumnus spoke. “Well, perhaps the King will notice the effort you put into the fights, my Lord? There are many friends here that will be happy to aid you in practicing. But it is not only the kind of work you have listed that is involved in the tasks of being a Prince, or being a King.”
Cadoc sighed once more. “My father does not see it that way.”
//
The Pevensies met for dinner at noon in one of the large tents that had been prepared for them, sometime after the first few rounds of jousting which had resulted in one Narnian victory and two Calormen ones. The tent was the largest of the three, and the flaps on its sides had been raised to let the sunlight in. Dryads were serving them large dishes of pork and baked vegetables on a low table between some couches. The Fauns were playing their music somewhere nearby, and the merry tune floated into the tent pleasantly.
But despite their outward calm and joyful demeanor, both Edmund and Peter were thoroughly exhausted and somewhat irritated.
“If someone gives me a false compliment through their teeth one more time,” Peter muttered as they entered the tent. “I swear I might just make them lose those teeth.”
Edmund grinned, though he couldn’t help but agree. All the newcomers seemed ridiculously eager to impress them; the Calormenes took every opportunity to compliment their surroundings with quotes from “The poets”, the Galmans would constantly compliment their persons in an attempt to mask the snide remarks they had a tendency to make, and the Archenlanders, though meaning well, sometimes could be overwhelming with their attempts to assert Archenland’s strong friendship with Narnia. All in all, it was beginning to be tiring.
Therefore, they were not so pleased when they discovered that Lord Paldin, who was, as it turned out, a cousin of Lord Peridan, had requested to have dinner with them in representation of his House.
“Lord Paldin is the son of the man who rules one of the richest and most powerful Houses of Archenland,” Peridan told Edmund, somewhat apologetically, when called to them as they considered the request. “It would benefit Your Majesties greatly to strengthen your friendship with his House, as the alliance might prove useful to Narnia in moments of need.”
Edmund glanced at his siblings as they sat near him on the couches. They all looked at Peter. Peter gave a slight shrug as his fingers played with the silver fork which they could tell he was yearning to use. “I suppose we ought to,” he said in a low voice. “This is one of the reasons for why we are hosting the Festival, after all. Let your cousin know he is welcome to join us.”
Peridan left them and the four of them glanced at each other in silence for a moment, before digging in to the meal before them. It was delicious, and they were extremely hungry. Edmund waved a hand after the first few bites.
“Remember, we’ve got to eat slowly or we’ll be done with the meal by the time Paldin gets here.”
They sighed and tried to eat more slowly.
“Honestly,” said Peter, after swallowing a mouthful of chicken. “I’m just relieved everything has finally been set in place.”
They were abruptly interrupted by Witrow, who informed them that the delegation of Bears that had come from further up North were rather offended about how distant their tents were, given that Foggy was fighting in the tourney and all the other knights apparently were nearer to the center of the campsite. It was Susan who tackled the issue quickly, and actually managed to solve the problem by offering them compensation in the form of a place as marshal of the lists during the melee combats that were carried out with Narnians as participants, before Lord Paldin made his way to their tent, entering with a low bow, escorted by Peridan.
“Your Majesties, it is an honor,” said Paldin. He actually seemed quite a pleasant man; a fact Edmund was very glad of, because it might help make the dinner lighter in mood despite the politics that would be involved.
“The honor is ours, Lord Paldin,” said Susan politely, gesturing towards a chair that had been brought to the table. “Please make yourself at home. And my Lord Peridan, please do us the honor of joining us as well, your presence is most welcomed at our table.”
With a smile and a bow, Peridan joined them as well, and they began to fill their plates.
“We have heard many good things of your House, Lord Paldin,” said Peter. “We were pleased to hear that it is located quite near to our borders.”
“Indeed, Your Highness,” said Lord Paldin with a pleased smile. He seemed almost nervous. It occurred to Edmund that perhaps this man had had orders to strike an alliance with them. He felt some pity; it was both amusing and rather depressing when a friendly conversation took place and neither party wanted to be there. “It is a lovely castle, set right between the last hills before Narnia begins. We are surrounded by the beauty of Archenland and Narnia; it is quite a thrilling mix.”
A bottle of wine was opened and served, and Peter rose his glass. “Let us drink to the health of your House, Lord Paldin,” he said. “May-”
His voice fell short as they heard what was unmistakably a scuffle outside. Through the openings on the sides of the tents, they could tell that the guards seemed to be arguing with someone. Edmund met Peter’s gaze and saw a flicker of worry on his brother’s face. But no sentries came to warn them, so Peter returned his eyes to the situation at hand.
“Forgive me,” he said, clearing his throat. “May the Lion bless your family and your country just as He has blessed ours.”
They all raised their glasses, and suddenly loud barking was heard and something came rushing into the tent at full speed, crashing into the table and upsetting the dishes with a loud smash, followed by two Fauns who had pulled out their swords. Lucy reached for her knife with surprising swiftness, and the Kings’ hands moved to their swords, Peter standing up quickly.
“What is the meaning of this?” he cried, and his eyes met a shaking brown dog that barked loudly as he nearly stood on his hind legs on the table. The Fauns were rushing forward to pull the animal away.
“Do not drink the wine, Your Majesties! Do not drink the wine!” the dog barked loudly, his eyes wide with terror. “It is poison! You must not touch it!”
Lucy gasped and dropped the glass she had been rising to her lips only moments earlier. But the guards were already pulling the dog away.
“Nay, stop,” said Peter, raising a hand. “What are you saying?”
The dog was shaking with fear, and his words escaped in one rushed breath in the manner of most dogs. “I am the hound with the best sense of smell in all of Narnia; Your Majesty may ask anyone. I am better at smelling than Moonwood The Hare was at hearing. And I am telling you, the wine is poisoned. It will kill those who drink from it!”
“How can you know?” Susan asked, but everyone turned as a loud noise was heard and Lord Paldin fell backwards onto the grass in his chair, shuddering and clutching his stomach.
“See, he has drunk from it already!” the dog cried fearfully.
Instantly, Peridan was on the ground beside the shivering man, pulling him up from the now broken chair and then moving out of the way as Paldin doubled over and vomited violently on the grass. His features were pale and bloodless, and his hands shook violently as he seemed to gasp for air, unable to speak.
“Quickly, take him to the healers!” Lucy exclaimed, pale as well.
“No,” said Edmund, so sharply that all turned to look at him despite the direness of the situation.
“Are you mad?” Susan exclaimed. “He is-”
Edmund turned to the alarmed Fauns, who were at loss, not knowing which orders to follow. “No, bring the healers here, as fast as they can run.”
Part 1
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
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