I Know a Tale, or, The Lost King (1/3) - for wingedflight21
Title: I Know a Tale, or, The Lost King
Author: pencildragon11/OldfashionedGirl95
Recipient: wingedflight21
Rating: T to be safe.
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Familiarity with LWW, parts of PC, and one element in MN is assumed. Supporting character defoliation, and someone whose mother probably didn't have soap with which to wash out his mouth when he was a kid.
Summary: "Great Lion, grant me a son," prayed Queen Althea in the days before the winter, “I will teach him to give magnanimously, to love tenderly, to judge wisely, and to fight courageously; that he may restore your peace to Narnia."
I Know a Tale, or, The Lost King, part 1
Dear God, I was utterly lost when the galaxies crossed.
~ Owl City
And the same John had his raiment of camel's hair, and a leathern girdle about his loins;
and his meat was locusts and wild honey.
~ Matthew 3:4
Mister God, this is Anna.
~ Fynn
I.
England
The Fifth Year of King Edward VII
The little boy sat on the bottom step, watching the setting sun color the sky. He knew his colors. Aunt 'Ears'ry had teached him. The clouds were purple and orange, and the sky was blue. Grass was green. His breeches were brown. A black ant crawled across his bare foot and into a crack in the step, carrying a white crumb. He looked up again at the thickening purple clouds and sniffed the air. It would rain later tonight. He hugged Yi, his stuffed yellow lion, closer. Yi was missing one eye and his mane was worn away, but he was Yi.
The little boy was hungry. He looked down at the crack in the step, but no more ants crawled by. Ants were good to eat. There was a green field not far away, but he didn't see any bushes that looked like berries, or any trees with fruit. He wanted someone to come get him and take him home to the burrow, where it was warm and dry and cozy and there was bread and honey to eat. He shouldn't be out all by himself like this. Mrs. 'Winklewacks and Aunt 'Ears'ry and Mr. and Mrs. 'Nuffleroot always said so. He must stay safe, must hide from-from the bad lady with the hard-to-say name, and from her wolves.
The door opened behind him and the little boy jumped up. What if it was the bad woman? He had to look very far up to see, but it wasn't a Giant. It was a Man. Girl Mans had no fur on their faces; boy Mans had some fur. This was a Man, and his fur was black and white-not striped like Mr. 'Nuffleroot's brother's, but all speckly.
“Hullo!” said the Man. “What have we here?”
The boy suddenly remembered his manners and bowed. Mrs. 'Winklewacks would say he should set Yi down before he bowed, but this was a strange Man, and he mustn't trust strangers-not strange Nanimals and not strange Mans, and not strange Trees, either.
“Well, what's your name, son?” said the Man. His voice didn't sound strange. It sounded kind.
“Fwank.”
“How d'you do?” said the Man. He stuck out his hand.
Slowly, Frank reached up and took one of the Man's fingers. “Gweeting, Mr. Man.”
Mr. Man laughed and bounced his hand up and down once. “Nowadays they mostly call me Reverend Colin, but you can call me Mr. Man if you want. Nippy out, isn't it? Want to come in my office and have a ginger-beer?”
Frank pulled his hand back and looked at Mr. Man warily. Mrs. 'Winklewacks said, No strange Mans. Was this a strange Man? He smelled like the smoke from Uncle Pewiwig's pipe, and Uncle Pewiwig wasn't strange. He smelled like other things, too, things Frank didn't know-but his voice didn't sound strange, either. And it was cold, and it was going to rain. The bad lady might come and make it snow again. And Frank liked ginger.
“Yes,” he lisped at last, and took Mr. Man's hand.
II.
Narnia
The First Year of High King Peter
The morning after their coronation, the children had awoken in a heap of cushions and found themselves with a country on their hands, and though it was not a very big country, neither were they very big children, and there was a great deal to be done. All the seed grain had been eaten during the Winter, the land had been cut off from international politics for a century, and no one remembered which herbs were good for ague. Those were lean days, when the creatures of Narnia were thin and pale, frightened and no longer knowing how to live in summer freedom-but wine was plentiful, there were fish in the sea and fresh greens on the hills, and the Narnians had not forgotten how to dance or tell stories.
Besides, the children weren't facing all the work alone, for a small group of Narnians-some of whom (such as Timeseer, a Centaur who knew just everything) had been statues in the Witch's house since the beginning of the Winter, and some of whom (such as Libruns, their first scribe) were children of the Winter-had elected to come and live at Cair Paravel. Nor was their new life all work and worry. In keeping with an ancient decree of King Frank the First, which Edmund unearthed in the dusty archives and Timeseer confirmed, they scrubbed, trained, and studied six days of the week and rested on the seventh.
On the second Seventhday since the coronation they spent the day down on the beach. The evenings were still coolish, and as the sun swung low, Edmund showed Lucy how to build a driftwood fire on the sand. They were all getting rather tired of fish, but Clearscry the Eagle had caught enough for the whole household, and when Peter had cleaned those the Cats and Dogs didn't want, Susan and Mrs. Twinkletacks the Hedgehog (her help and direction was proving invaluable in that first, overwhelming spring cleaning) roasted the fish over the fire and baked flat oatcakes in the coals, the way Roongrath the Centaur had shown them.
“Can't be healthy, Human children eating Centaur food,” said Reedywhistle, an old Marshwiggle who had shown up that morning.
Susan smiled up at him. “We've been eating them for more than a fortnight now, and we've eaten oatmeal porridge for longer than that. How were the marshes?”
Reedywhistle rearranged his usually somber features into a near-sepulchral expression. “Terrible. Shameful, the way the country's been run down.”
“How have they come through the winter?” asked Edmund.
“The marshes froze, of course. Now half the wigwams are flooded, and they're eking out what existence they can from stewed eels and boiledfrogs.”
Lucy's eyes widened.
“With all the fuss, the old ones haven't bothered to teach the young ones proper manners. The whole lot of them is frolicking like a band of rowdy Fauns merely because the winter's over.” He scowled.
Susan wondered if the statues had felt time passing, and if Reedywhistle had any idea how long the winter had really been.
“Disgraceful, it is. Before long they will be kicking up their heels, and lighting off fireworks as a regular thing.”
Ocellus the Leopard stretched and rolled so his other side was by the fire. “Hardly think there's any danger of that. What are they singing? Dirges?”
“Where will you live? Up in the marshes?” asked Peter.
“Up in the marshes!” He puffed thick, muddy smoke from his pipe, highly affronted. “With those ruffians? I think not. I shall build myself a wigwam on the other side of the river, far from the carryings-on you lot are bound to have here at the castle. Of course, the damp will likely give me rheumatism, or even pneumonia, but 'twill be just the thing to steady me after all this frippery and celebration, and how you Humans are supposed to get across a flooded river without webbed feet, I'll never know. What you need is a ferry. ”
Timeseer had been standing a little ways away, gazing at the sunset, his arms folded across his chest. “Wise advice,” he said now.
“Well, that's one more thing done,” said Peter. “No roads yet, Edmund, but we'll get there.”
Edmund grinned. “I think we need a dance floor first, with all the dancing Susan and Lucy are doing.”
“Oh, yes!” said Lucy. “But it's more fun to dance in the grass with the Fauns.”
Susan yawned and stretched out on the sand. “I'm too tired to dance tonight. Someone should tell a story.”
“Not one of those boring ones from that book Edmund and Libruns are reading, please,” said Lucy.
“They're not boring!” said Edmund.
“I have a tale,” said Timeseer before they could argue about it. “Shall any listen?”
“What tale have you?” said Peter, as he had learned.
“A tale of Narnia,” said the Centaur. “A tale of death and witchery, of love and life, a tale of happenings I witnessed. It is the tale of King Frank the Lost.”
“We listen,” said Peter. “Tell us your tale.”
III.
Narnia and Telmar
The Ninth Year of High King Peter and the Thirty-Fourth Year of Chief Belisan
It was just after midsummer when High King Peter and Queen Lucy visited Telmar. Telmarine ruffians and brigands were making a nuisance of themselves in the Western March, hunting along Narnia's southwest border. Two Narnians, Bristletail the Wolf and Nibbleaf the Rabbit, were accidentally shot and killed. After a flurry of letters to Timeseer, now Chief of the Moongrove Centaurs, Peter and Lucy sent a message ahead and set off for Telmar, accompanied by Clearscry the wise Eagle and twelve Winged Horses, and riding on the back of a not-overly-clever Dragon named Chrysophylax, who normally lived in a cave by Knucker's Mere with a pile of gold cursed by the White Witch.
Flying down on the Dragon was Lucy's idea, and she spent a long day riding the twenty-five miles to Knucker's Mere to recruit him, then ten miles down to the plain where the Winged Horses lived (she promised them a bag of sugar cubes) and at last to Paravel. She and Chrysophylax liked each other, and she adored flying. Peter hated every minute of it, but Timeseer had advised impressing Telmar with Narnia's might, and the alternative was marching through the mountains with a large warband. He could, of course, have sent Edmund, who had no trouble with heights, but Lucy insisted that she was going along, and Peter wasn't about to send Lucy off on the first visit to what Timeseer had described as “a motley and warlike people.” Even if hints from Timeseer and the other advisors about the Future of Narnia and Heirs to the Thrones were neither subtle or infrequent, and even if the Animals were hoping Susan would marry King Aran of Terebinthia. He didn't want to think about that.
So it was Peter sitting on the Dragon's back behind Lucy, strapped into the Dwarf-engineered harness, his arms wrapped around his sister's waist and his eyes squinched shut; while she went into raptures over the view and then (being tired) leaned back and took a nap on his shoulder. They reached the mountains on the evening of the second day, and that night were joined by Loneruff the Wolf and part of his pack. Bristletail had been Loneruff's lieutenant, his second-in-command, and the Alpha Wolf was angry.
All the next day, they flew through the mountains, but not until evening did they see anyone. While they were unloading and making camp, two men stepped out of the trees, dressed in fringed leather and armed with bows and arrows. All the hackles on Loneruff's neck went up when he caught their scent. He rushed and knocked down the shorter of the men; then stood over him and snarled.
Peter set down the bundle he was holding. “What goes here?”
“I didn't do anything!” said the man on the ground, trying to push the great Wolf off him. The second man reached for his bow, but the other five Wolves were ringed around him, and he stopped.
“This Man killed Bristletail.” said Loneruff. “My brother cried out and said, 'Do not shoot me, for I am a Narnian,' but the hunter did not listen. He shot him, stripped him of his skin, and left his body to rot.”
The man was whimpering now. “Call off your wolf, call off your wolf.”
Loneruff snarled and snapped, teeth dangerously close to the man's throat.
Peter stepped forward. “Peace, Loneruff.” His voice was cold. “Telmarine churl. Didst thou do this thing?”
“I-I didn't mean to! I didn't know he was anything special!”
“You address the High King of Narnia, worm!” snarled Loneruff.
“Peter-” said Lucy.
“Hath this other done aught?”
“I do not know, Your Majesty,” said Loneruff. “But if one would kill a Narnian, so would the other.”
“Telmarine,” Peter said to the second man. “How art thou called?”
“Nothan, sir.”
“Beware, Nothan of Telmar. We release thee this day, but stray not again onto Narnian soil, and spill not Narnian blood, else it shall go hardly with thee.”
“Aye sir,” said Nothan.
“Release him,” said Peter, and the Wolves drew back, growling low in their throats. “We shall take this one to his chief.”
Peter and Lucy were the only ones with hands, so they had to do the honors with the rope. Peter tied the man's wrists together and gave him to Chrysophylax to watch. “Flee, and the Dragon shall be after thee,” said Peter.
Then the Wolves and the Eagle went hunting, separately, while Peter built a fire, the Winged Horses grazed, and Lucy laid out the bedrolls.
Herding Boanzir, the Telmarine prisoner, along slowed the Wolves the next day, and the party didn't come to the last pass until late afternoon. Peter called a halt, and all the Horses circled gracefully down out of the sky. They stood with Clearscry, grooming their feathers, while Peter donned his mail shirt and Lucy went behind a clump of trees to change into a fresh dress. Peter was buckling his sword belt when she came out, her bow and quiver slung across her back and her dagger at her side. She had let her hair out of its windblown braid, so that it tumbled in riotous curls to her waist, restrained only by her golden circlet. She handed Peter his, and he put it on.
“Ready?”
He nodded.
Most of the food they were carrying had been eaten, and they made room on Chrysophylax for the captive hunter, leaving the Wolves free to run. Clearscry the Eagle flew first, then Chrysophylax the Dragon, then twelve Winged Horses fanned behind them like a skein of geese. And so they burst through the last mountain pass, the Wolves trotting beneath them, and flew down into the valley of Telmar.
IV.
Narnia
The First Year of High King Peter
Timeseer stamped a hoof and refolded his arms, raising and deepening his voice to carry across the beach. “My tale begins over two centuries ago, with Shale and Birk, the last good Kings of Narnia, twin brothers who ruled from twin thrones in in this very castle, Cair Paravel.”
“Did they have any sisters?” said Lucy.
“Nay, good maid. The brother-kings married sisters whom we remember as the Queens Wren and Silva, and then there were four thrones. King Shale and Queen Wren had one son and two daughters; King Birk and Queen Silva, two sons and one daughter, and when they died, the Kings left the land to all six children equally. But it was a legacy of war and not of peace, and the cousins fought among themselves until four lay dead, and the sacred Stone Table was stained with Human blood. Then King Birk's second son crowned himself King Than and his cousin-wife Queen Briar, and moved his seat from Paravel to the Castle Ravenswood in the north, just east of Lantern Waste.”
Peter frowned, trying to work out where that would be.
“For a century, the Kings of Narnia ruled from Ravenswood, each worse than the one before, until there came King Drake, the last and worst. His father was of the ancient line, yes, but his mother was a high-ranking Tarkheena of Western Calormen-a Tarkheena, Queen Susan, is a noble lady in the Empire of Calormen, which lies south of Narnia, beyond Archenland and beyond the fierce desert. King Edmund, in your studies, have you learned aught of whom the Calormenes worship?”
Edmund was poking at the fire with a stick, but now he straightened. “The Calormenes do not worship Aslan, but Tash, who has four arms, claws, and the head of a vulture.”
“Indeed,” said Timeseer. “The Calormenes worship many gods, among them Tash, and Drake's mother taught him not to love Aslan, but to serve as she herself did the heathen gods of the south. Thus, when Drake became King, he thought not of Aslan or Aslan's creatures, but mistrusted the Talking Beasts and surrounded himself with Human courtiers-advisors who were deaf, blind, and dumb.”
Lucy opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but Susan held a finger to her lips and Timeseer went on.
“Not one had the sight of an Eagle-” (Clearscry adjusted her wings) “the hearing of a Bat, the smell of a Hound-” (Sagepaw sniffed the air ostentatiously) “the constancy of a Badger, the speed of a Leopard-” (Fleetfoot, lying on his back with his paws in the air, could not then have looked less speedy) “the music of a Faun-” (Libruns nodded) “or the wisdom of a Centaur.”
Lucy mouthed a silent oh.
“Aslan gave Narnia to Men as a kingdom, and he gave the Men to Narnia as kings and protectors, but she is a land of Beasts and Birds, Nymphs and Fauns, Dwarfs and Centaurs. It is not for the King to exalt himself over his people.” Timeseer looked hard at High King Peter, and the boy looked levelly back, nodding once. The children had already learned to address the Narnians as “Cousins.”
“Did King Drake also marry a Tarkheena?” asked Edmund.
“Nay. His marriage was one of politics, and though he kept a dark-eyed dancing girl from Calormen as his mistress, his Queen was a flaxen-haired princess of Archenland. Queen Althea.” He was silent a moment. “She was a good woman and a better Queen than some. She loved Aslan and treated his creatures well, though not accustomed to them from childhood, and her husband's excesses grieved her, for he squandered Dwarf-minted gold on the gaudy splendoring of Castle Ravenswood: solid gold dishes for daily meals; a gold and ivory throne with six steps and figures of lions and vultures at each end; a jewel-encrusted shrine to Tash; slaves from Calormen to wait upon him and peacocks, monkeys, and kangaroos for his zoo.”
Susan frowned. “Did he have any children?”
“Children, yes-black-haired bastards from his mistress-but no heirs, for Drake did not love his Queen and she remained childless, though she prayed often to Aslan for a son who would restore Narnia.
“'The land hath fallen,' said she, 'the people are oppressed and led astray by a King who knoweth you not. Great Lion, grant me a son and I will teach him to love your truth, your ways, and your creatures. I will teach him to give magnanimously, to love tenderly, to judge wisely, and to fight courageously, that he may restore your peace to Narnia.'
“The Queen was often lonely, for she would not take part in the revels of her husband's court and his love for her was not increased by her failure to give him an heir; but she had a good friend in Lady Celia, who lived with her increasing family not far from Ravenswood, she went often to visit her people, and she was one of those who are close to Aslan. At last, in the tenth year of King Drake's reign, Aslan remembered Queen Althea, and she conceived.
V.
Telmar
Peter had sailed to the Lone Islands and to Terebinthia, had fought Giants in Ettinsmoor, had made a diplomatic visit to Tashbaan, and had flown through the mountains of the Western March-but Telmar was different. He supposed Aslan had made this valley, just as he had made the rest of the world, but Aslan must have used a different palette to paint it. The landscape was mostly dusty tan and faded sage, treebark-brown and pale flax. Even the grass was a tawny green, not the lush verdance of Narnian hills; and dotted with piny scrub.
A town-about a hundred cabins-lay in the center of the valley, with fields of grain to the left and south and smaller clusters of cabins dotted here and there. Though the mountains ranged around the nearly-circular valley like dark-blue sentinels, the sky felt wider and freer, and they raced through it at stomach-turning speed. Peter tried to keep his eyes open.
At first the village looked quite near, but they flew on for nearly five miles before they came to it. The sun was perched atop the highest peak ahead, the point of which curved sideways at an impossible angle, by the time they slackened their speed and coasted to the ground, a little bumpily. Clearscry settled on Peter's gloved hand, the Winged Horses re-formed their vee and the Wolves gathered between its wings; then they all stood a moment and looked at the sight before them.
A crowd had gathered at the edge of town-men with weathered faces holding spears, unsmiling mothers keeping their children close, eying the Dragon, the Winged Horses, the great gray Wolves. It was indeed a motley people, some as dark as men from Southern Calormen, some fair as Narnians, some fairer still with hair red as sunset.
“Ho, sir!” called Peter to a young man with sandy brown hair and dark-tanned skin. “Pray send word to thy Chief and King that Peter, High King of Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion is come, with Queen Lucy our sister, to see him.”
The youth touched his hand to his forehead in salute and hurried away. Peter and Lucy waited, looking about. The crowd numbered about twoscore, and a not-quite-peaceful wildness hung about them. They wore buckskins and undyed wool, with moccasins for their feet, beautifully fringed and decorated with silver and blue stones. The little girls had their hair braided with silver wire, leather thongs, and glinting bits of gray-gold stones.
The houses behind the people were built of rough logs and daubed with mud, but the dooryards (most of them) had been swept and tidied, and the chimneys looked homey. To the south a herd of cattle, a much smaller horse herd, and a few sheep grazed on the short, curly grass; to the north, Lucy thought she recognized a wheat field. She was no judge of wheat, and it was too far to see how good the cows were, but there were many of them.
(What Narnian livestock was not killed by the mobs before the winter was eaten during the long years of starvation; and though the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve who returned after the winter brought cows and chickens with them, milk was still a rarity in Narnia and most dairy was imported as cheese from Archenland. Chrysophylax had drunk all the milk from the Cair's cow for a week before coming; after that he had drunk water, eaten bread, and stayed away from meat, but still he steamed like a teakettle.)
At last the young man with the sandy hair returned, bringing two older men. All three saluted, right hands to temples, and the oldest, who had a silver earring in his ear, said, “Belisan, Chief of Telmar, King of the Mountains, Captain of the Telmarines, and Knight of the Exalted Order of the Wild Hawk, invites Peter and Lucy, High King and Queen of Narnia, to sup with him and his queen.”
Peter gave a small bow. “Give thy Chief and King our thanks, but we shall not eat until he hath heard our words.”
The man with the earring saluted. “Chief Belisan, King of the Mountains, does not do business after the sun touches Cutlass Peak.”
Peter gazed steadily at the man. “We of Narnia do not eat when scores are yet to be settled.”
The man sketched a third salute. “What scores are you talking about?”
Peter inclined his head. “Tell thy Chief that if he had read our missive, as his reply indicated, he would know that Telmarine hunters have killed two of our people. One of the hunters have we brought to him.”
The man raised an eyebrow, saluted once more, and went away. This time he was gone only long enough for Lucy to smile at a little red-haired girl with a solemn face. When he returned, he bowed awkwardly.
“Chief Belisan, King of the Mountains, invites High King Peter and Queen Lucy of Narnia to come speak with him, but asks that they leave their dragon, their horses, and their wolves here.”
“By no means,” said Peter. “Our friends and companions shall accompany us.”
The man looked helplessly at his companions, then set off through the streets, glancing back often at the Dragon, who trotted docilely behind Lucy, the prisoner's lead rope in his mouth. The Winged Horses had to form a double line, for the narrowness of the street, and the Wolves fell behind them. The sandy-haired youth and the other man kept their distance.
VI.
England
One should go down to get into a burrow or a den, but the steps here went up, and then there was a very tall tunnel with rooms off of it. Mr. 'Nuffleroot's tunnels weren't big enough for Mans, but did Mr. Man's tunnels have to be so very tall? Nevertheless, it was warm inside, and soon they came to a room where there were lots of papers with writing on them. Mr. Man cleared some papers off a kind of stool with four legs and a back, and invited him to take a seat. Frank sat down on the rug with Yi and waited.
There was a thing on the wall making noise. It went click, click, click, like a beetle-or maybe it was tick, tick, tick. Maybe it was trying to talk to him. He made click-ticks back at the thing, but it didn't pay any attention.
Mr. Man poured something from a bottle into a mug and handed it to him. There were bubbles on top, and it didn't really smell like ginger. He took a sip. It tickled and burned in his mouth and he coughed.
“You all right?” said the Man, pouring himself some “ginger-beer” and sitting down on a stool-with-a-back.
Frank nodded and took another sip. It didn't taste like ginger, either. It tasted like . . . bubbles. He thought he liked it.
“Well, here I am,” said the Man, “right in the middle of my Sunday sermon. All a-sudden I think I ought to check outside, and there you are, just sitting on the step. Where are your parents, Frank? Do you have a mum and dad?”
He shook his head. He had heard the others talking about this. “No muvver. No father. Muvver good woman. Poor child.”
Mr. Man blinked. “How old are you?”
Frank had to set down Yi to hold up two fingers. Then he remembered he had just had a birthday. Mrs. 'Winklewacks said he was three now. He held up another finger.
“What happened to your mum and dad?”
Frank had to think about that. He didn't quite know. Mr. 'Nuffleroot was Ruffle'nout's and Tusslebrock's father, and Mrs. 'Nuffleroot was their mother. He had once had a mother. Had he had a father? “Bad woman,” he said at last. “Witch. No father, no muvver no more.” He drank some more ginger-beer. It sparked in his nose. Mr. Man was looking straight at him, and he looked away.
“Who takes care of you?”
“Mr. 'Nuffleroot. Mrs. 'Nuffleroot. Aunt 'Ears'ry. Mrs. 'Winklewacks. Uncle Pewiwig. Uncle Panfer an' Soot'will went 'way. Bad woman taked them.”
“Where did she take them?”
His forehead wrinkled up. “Uncle Pewiwig says her killed them. Mrs. 'Winklewacks says, don't say 'round Fwankie.” He peeked up at Mr. Man, who was looking away now. “Where d'you live, Mr. Man?”
“Me? Just across the field in the parsonage.”
“What's a pars'nige?”
“It's the house where I live. Where do you live?”
“In th' sett.”
“The sett?”
He nodded. “Wif th' Badgers.”
Mr. Man sat back. “Badgers, you say?”
He nodded again and held out his mug. “Good Nanimals. C'n I have more?”
The Man poured more ginger-beer in his mug.
“Thankee,” he said.
“Where is this sett?” said Mr. Man. “How did you get here?”
He thought about that. How did he get here? He had been with Mrs. 'Winklewacks. She was teaching him how to hold up three fingers. Then they heard the snarling and the barking overhead, and Mrs. 'Winklewacks had looked away. Then he was in the green place, where it was warm and quiet, and Aslan was there, and Aslan licked his face. He had said, don't be afraid, and he would take care of Frank, and- “As'an said him would come wif me. Why tan't I see him?”
“Ass-an?
He looked at Yi's threadbare mane. “Him's big Lion. Him maked everyfing. An' the Nanimals an' the Mans an' the Trees an' the Rivers an' the Badgers an' the Hedge'ogs an' Fwank. Everyfing.”
Mr. Man was blinking again, like Soot'will the Owl used to blink in the sun. Slowly, he said, “God made everything, the seen and the unseen, the plants and animals and us and the stars-”
Frank nodded vigorously. “Him maked 'tars, too. 'Tars sing.”
“Yes-well-God made everything, and He is always with us, but we can't see Him.”
“Why?”
“Well, God is a spirit, and you can't see spirits.”
“Tan.”
“Pardon?”
“Tan too see 'pirits. Twees have 'pirits. Waters have 'pirits, an tan too see them.”
“Most of us can't.”
“Why?”
The Man sighed. “Spirits are invisible. God is a spirit. God is invisible.”
“Who's God?”
“God is a Spirit, infinite, eternal, and unchangeable in his being, wisdom, power, holiness, justice, goodness, and truth.”
Frank didn't know what those words meant. He knew that Aslan had made him, that Aslan smelled good and was furry and warm and loved him. “As'an licked me, see?” He pointed to his long-since-dried forehead. “I seed him. An' him's gone. Ever'body gone. Why?”
Mr. Man put his chin in his hands. “I don't know. I don't know who Ass-an is. I think you said he's a lion who made you. I don't know who you belong to. Why don't you come home and have tea with me and my wife? Then we can figure out whose you are. Want to come?”
Frank knew quite well who he belonged to, but tea meant bread and honey. “Yes,” he said again, tucking Yi under his arm and standing up.
VII.
Telmar
Belisan, Chief of Telmar, King of the Mountains, Captain of the Telmarines, and Knight of the Exalted Order of the Wild Hawk lived in an impressively large log building (was it palace or fort or hall?), built west of town, with plenty of space between it and the other cabins. In this space, the Winged Horses and four of the Wolves waited, with Chrysophylax and the Telmarine hunter. The Dragon coiled his scaly tail around himself and put his head down, steam curling lazily from his nostrils and the rope still firmly in his mouth. Clearscry remained on Peter's wrist, Lucy moved forward to stand at Peter's side, with Loneruff beside Peter and Loneruff's new lieutenant beside Lucy.
So they entered the stronghold. Though there were small windows in the walls, the light came from torches and a fire in the center of the room. There was a bit of chimney in the roof, not enough to let the smoke out, but the ceiling was so high that most of the smoke went up in search of a way out and never found its way back down again.
The walls were covered with animal skins, brightly painted in symbolic and geometric designs, but that was not what captured Lucy's attention. Directly ahead, behind the firepit, sat Chief Belisan himself, on a throne carved from a single massive log, skillfully shaped, with designs burned into the wood and inlaid with silver. Above the throne, a curved knife-a cutlass, she thought, not a Calormene scimitar-hung on the wall, and above that there were the antlers of a great stag.
The man sitting in that throne was just as impressive as the symbols around him, with long gray hair and beard and earrings in both ears. He was dressed in white, silver-beaded buckskins and crowned with a branched, antler-like silver crown, set with emeralds and the blue stones. At his feet sat a dark, curly-headed boy with quill and vellum.
The older of the two men who had spoken with Peter now saluted Chief Belisan. “The Narnian High King and Queen, sir. Their beasts are outside.”
The Chief nodded, and the three men who had brought Peter and Lucy now retired to the corners of the room. Peter bowed to Belisan, and Belisan lazily saluted him.
“Ahoy, King of Narnia.”
“Greetings, Chief of Telmar.”
“What business cannot wait until tomorrow?”
Was he merely lazy, or did he not consider them old enough, important enough, to take seriously?
“Telmarines encroach on our soil. They have shot and killed two of our subjects, not even bothering to bury the remains. We come to make clear unto you that if you do not stop these men who call themselves your subjects, then our land and yours shall be enemies.”
“So you have come to spy out our defenses.”
“Give us assurance that these outrages will be stopped, and swear peace with us. Then we shall swear peace with you and trade with you-horses for your cattle, steel for your silver, and silk for your leather.”
“Assurance, you say. You captured one of these hunters and brought him with you?”
“Yes, King,” growled Loneruff.
He raised his eyebrows. “It talks.”
“Peace, Loneruff,” murmured Lucy.
“So, you demand a restitution?” said Belisan. “The hunter will die for the Narnian he killed, and . . .” he looked around the room and settled on the sandy-haired youth, “that young man for the other Narnian. A life for a life. You should have killed the hunter when you caught him, and not come all this way to bother me.”
Lucy paled. “No. We would not have you spill innocent blood.” Where had these people come from? They were not descended from Frank and Helen, but they were not Calormenes. Were all Telmarines this cruel, this bloodthirsty?
He chuckled. “The boy is hardly innocent, pretty girl. His father was loyal to Uvilas-damn him-and I have put up with him long enough.”
Lucy felt hot all over, but Peter's voice was chill and calm. “Then 'twould hardly be a fair exchange, for Nibbleaf the Rabbit was a beloved subject and friend, even if 'twere otherwise acceptable.”
“A rabbit? A rabbit?”
“Narnia, in case you hadn't noticed, is a land of Talking Beasts,” said Loneruff.
“And, by all accounts, of endless winter and cold blood,” said Belisan, “so why you object-”
“No,” said Lucy again, trying to control her anger. “The White Witch hath been killed, her spell of winter hath broken, and Narnians no longer take a life for a life.”
“My sister, the Queen, speaketh rightly,” said Peter. “Give us thy earnest in silver and in the blue stones your people wear, and give your word, sworn on what you hold sacred, that your hunters will trespass no longer on Narnian soil. Then we and our honor shall be satisfied.”
The Chief seemed bored again. “What price do you demand?”
“You offered the lives of two of your subjects,” said Clearscry. “What price would you give them?”
They stood there and negotiated, their conversation punctuated by growls from the Wolves. Peter's arm ached from bearing Clearscry, but her counsel was wise. At last they reached a number which Loneruff accepted on behalf of his pack, and a similar number which Lucy accepted on behalf of Nibbleaf's warren. The amount was brought forth in silver and polished turquoise, solemnly weighed out, and placed in two leather sacks.
“Will you prevent further such depredations of Narnian life?” asked Peter.
Belisan leaned down and his scribe whispered in his ear. Lucy had a sudden, wild thought that he did not know what “depredation” meant.
“The Western March is not my territory, and I cannot patrol the mountains, but you may kill any you catch attacking your people.”
Clearscry whispered in Peter's ear. He looked at Lucy, and she nodded. It seemed the best they could do.
“And do you swear not to come against us in war, but to preserve the peace between Telmar and Narnia?”
Belisan sighed. “I, Belisan, Chief of Telmar, King of the Mountains, Captain of the Telmarines, and Knight of the Exalted Order of the Wild Hawk, swear by the gods my people worship, not to break the peace between Telmar and Narnia.”
“And we, High King of Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, do swear by the Lion Aslan to keep the peace with Telmar and Telmarines unless provoked. With those who attack our people we will do as we see fit.”
“And so do I, Lucy, Queen of Narnia, Countess of Glasswater, Keeper of the Stone Table, and Lady of the Vial, swear by the Lion Aslan.” She looked at the Wolf. “Loneruff.” she hissed.
He grumbled in his throat. “And I, Loneruff, Alpha Wolf of the Western March Wolves, swear by the Great Lion not to harm any Telmarine without provocation, but if my Wolves are harmed, or any other Narnians of the border territories which we protect, I will not hold back.”
Belisan saluted halfheartedly. “Too much business after sundown. Are you happy now? Your scores are settled?”
“Yea,” said Peter.
“You are surely tired from your journey, and my wife is waiting for me with supper. Young Peridan-whom I should not have minded executing-will show you to a cabin. Good night.”
The audience was over.
VIII.
Narnia
Now in those days, said Timeseer, the creatures of Narnia saw the evil of their Kings, and they murmured against them. The Beasts and Dwarfs saw that Drake thought of them as he thought of his slaves, valuable only for the work they could do or the gold they could produce; and the Nymphs of Wood and Water saw that Drake did not honor them, but soiled the Rivers and cut down the Trees with no thought for the land; and they resented this. Many now repeated what some had whispered in the days of the Terebinthian Revolution, in the time of Drake's father and grandfather, that perhaps Man should not rule Narnia.
“Mr. Beaver said that Aslan brought King Frank and Queen Helen to Narnia and crowned them in the very beginning,” said Lucy.
“Yes,” said Timeseer, “but did he say who came with them?”
“A boy and a girl-weren't their names Lord Digory and Lady Polly?”
“Who else?”
She laughed. “The Neevil, with its fluffy white hair-”
But Edmund shook his head. “And the witch, Lucy.”
“Yes, King Edmund.”
Good King Frank was a Son of Adam, and never was Narnia happier than in the idyllic days of Swanwhite the Daughter of Eve, but it was also a Son of Adam who brought the Witch into Narnia. Now, in the days of Drake, few remembered the Witch or believed she still lived. What they said in those days was that it was a Man who killed Queen Swanwhite, it was a Man who killed his brothers and cousins to make himself King, and it was a Man who sat on the gold-and-ivory throne in Ravenswood.
Of all who said such things that summer, over a century ago, when Queen Althea was with child, the Dragon Milophylax, from Knucker's Mere in north-central Narnia, spoke loudest, and many gathered by the sacred Tree of Protection to hear him.
“You are Beasts!” said he. “Or have you forgotten that the same Human who brought Evil into Narnia planted this tree? They say it is for our protection, but is it not here to keep Human kings over us? We have been strictly warned all our lives not to eat its fruit, for there is strong magic in it. Strong magic, I say, to keep the Men strong and the Beasts weak. As long as this tree stands, Drake shall be King, shut up in that castle with his southern friends and his rich luxury-the silks you Dryads wove; the gold you Dwarfs hammered; the books you, Centaurs, wrote. But do we enjoy the fruits of our labors? Never! We toil and slave, so that those Humans may live their useless lives of luxurious ease. How much longer shall we endure this tyranny?”
Thus did Milophylax stir up the Narnians, the summer Queen Althea was with child. But in her sixth month, Aslan came to the Queen as she rested alone in her chambers, and said to her,
“I have heard your many prayers, my daughter, and my blessing shall be upon your sons from their birth-for you are of Archenland, and in your womb you carry twins. They and their descendants are dear to my heart, and through them shall come the restoration of Narnia, though you yourself shall not see it.”
Part 2
Part 3
Author: pencildragon11/OldfashionedGirl95
Recipient: wingedflight21
Rating: T to be safe.
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Familiarity with LWW, parts of PC, and one element in MN is assumed. Supporting character defoliation, and someone whose mother probably didn't have soap with which to wash out his mouth when he was a kid.
Summary: "Great Lion, grant me a son," prayed Queen Althea in the days before the winter, “I will teach him to give magnanimously, to love tenderly, to judge wisely, and to fight courageously; that he may restore your peace to Narnia."
I Know a Tale, or, The Lost King, part 1
Dear God, I was utterly lost when the galaxies crossed.
~ Owl City
And the same John had his raiment of camel's hair, and a leathern girdle about his loins;
and his meat was locusts and wild honey.
~ Matthew 3:4
Mister God, this is Anna.
~ Fynn
I.
England
The Fifth Year of King Edward VII
The little boy sat on the bottom step, watching the setting sun color the sky. He knew his colors. Aunt 'Ears'ry had teached him. The clouds were purple and orange, and the sky was blue. Grass was green. His breeches were brown. A black ant crawled across his bare foot and into a crack in the step, carrying a white crumb. He looked up again at the thickening purple clouds and sniffed the air. It would rain later tonight. He hugged Yi, his stuffed yellow lion, closer. Yi was missing one eye and his mane was worn away, but he was Yi.
The little boy was hungry. He looked down at the crack in the step, but no more ants crawled by. Ants were good to eat. There was a green field not far away, but he didn't see any bushes that looked like berries, or any trees with fruit. He wanted someone to come get him and take him home to the burrow, where it was warm and dry and cozy and there was bread and honey to eat. He shouldn't be out all by himself like this. Mrs. 'Winklewacks and Aunt 'Ears'ry and Mr. and Mrs. 'Nuffleroot always said so. He must stay safe, must hide from-from the bad lady with the hard-to-say name, and from her wolves.
The door opened behind him and the little boy jumped up. What if it was the bad woman? He had to look very far up to see, but it wasn't a Giant. It was a Man. Girl Mans had no fur on their faces; boy Mans had some fur. This was a Man, and his fur was black and white-not striped like Mr. 'Nuffleroot's brother's, but all speckly.
“Hullo!” said the Man. “What have we here?”
The boy suddenly remembered his manners and bowed. Mrs. 'Winklewacks would say he should set Yi down before he bowed, but this was a strange Man, and he mustn't trust strangers-not strange Nanimals and not strange Mans, and not strange Trees, either.
“Well, what's your name, son?” said the Man. His voice didn't sound strange. It sounded kind.
“Fwank.”
“How d'you do?” said the Man. He stuck out his hand.
Slowly, Frank reached up and took one of the Man's fingers. “Gweeting, Mr. Man.”
Mr. Man laughed and bounced his hand up and down once. “Nowadays they mostly call me Reverend Colin, but you can call me Mr. Man if you want. Nippy out, isn't it? Want to come in my office and have a ginger-beer?”
Frank pulled his hand back and looked at Mr. Man warily. Mrs. 'Winklewacks said, No strange Mans. Was this a strange Man? He smelled like the smoke from Uncle Pewiwig's pipe, and Uncle Pewiwig wasn't strange. He smelled like other things, too, things Frank didn't know-but his voice didn't sound strange, either. And it was cold, and it was going to rain. The bad lady might come and make it snow again. And Frank liked ginger.
“Yes,” he lisped at last, and took Mr. Man's hand.
II.
Narnia
The First Year of High King Peter
The morning after their coronation, the children had awoken in a heap of cushions and found themselves with a country on their hands, and though it was not a very big country, neither were they very big children, and there was a great deal to be done. All the seed grain had been eaten during the Winter, the land had been cut off from international politics for a century, and no one remembered which herbs were good for ague. Those were lean days, when the creatures of Narnia were thin and pale, frightened and no longer knowing how to live in summer freedom-but wine was plentiful, there were fish in the sea and fresh greens on the hills, and the Narnians had not forgotten how to dance or tell stories.
Besides, the children weren't facing all the work alone, for a small group of Narnians-some of whom (such as Timeseer, a Centaur who knew just everything) had been statues in the Witch's house since the beginning of the Winter, and some of whom (such as Libruns, their first scribe) were children of the Winter-had elected to come and live at Cair Paravel. Nor was their new life all work and worry. In keeping with an ancient decree of King Frank the First, which Edmund unearthed in the dusty archives and Timeseer confirmed, they scrubbed, trained, and studied six days of the week and rested on the seventh.
On the second Seventhday since the coronation they spent the day down on the beach. The evenings were still coolish, and as the sun swung low, Edmund showed Lucy how to build a driftwood fire on the sand. They were all getting rather tired of fish, but Clearscry the Eagle had caught enough for the whole household, and when Peter had cleaned those the Cats and Dogs didn't want, Susan and Mrs. Twinkletacks the Hedgehog (her help and direction was proving invaluable in that first, overwhelming spring cleaning) roasted the fish over the fire and baked flat oatcakes in the coals, the way Roongrath the Centaur had shown them.
“Can't be healthy, Human children eating Centaur food,” said Reedywhistle, an old Marshwiggle who had shown up that morning.
Susan smiled up at him. “We've been eating them for more than a fortnight now, and we've eaten oatmeal porridge for longer than that. How were the marshes?”
Reedywhistle rearranged his usually somber features into a near-sepulchral expression. “Terrible. Shameful, the way the country's been run down.”
“How have they come through the winter?” asked Edmund.
“The marshes froze, of course. Now half the wigwams are flooded, and they're eking out what existence they can from stewed eels and boiledfrogs.”
Lucy's eyes widened.
“With all the fuss, the old ones haven't bothered to teach the young ones proper manners. The whole lot of them is frolicking like a band of rowdy Fauns merely because the winter's over.” He scowled.
Susan wondered if the statues had felt time passing, and if Reedywhistle had any idea how long the winter had really been.
“Disgraceful, it is. Before long they will be kicking up their heels, and lighting off fireworks as a regular thing.”
Ocellus the Leopard stretched and rolled so his other side was by the fire. “Hardly think there's any danger of that. What are they singing? Dirges?”
“Where will you live? Up in the marshes?” asked Peter.
“Up in the marshes!” He puffed thick, muddy smoke from his pipe, highly affronted. “With those ruffians? I think not. I shall build myself a wigwam on the other side of the river, far from the carryings-on you lot are bound to have here at the castle. Of course, the damp will likely give me rheumatism, or even pneumonia, but 'twill be just the thing to steady me after all this frippery and celebration, and how you Humans are supposed to get across a flooded river without webbed feet, I'll never know. What you need is a ferry. ”
Timeseer had been standing a little ways away, gazing at the sunset, his arms folded across his chest. “Wise advice,” he said now.
“Well, that's one more thing done,” said Peter. “No roads yet, Edmund, but we'll get there.”
Edmund grinned. “I think we need a dance floor first, with all the dancing Susan and Lucy are doing.”
“Oh, yes!” said Lucy. “But it's more fun to dance in the grass with the Fauns.”
Susan yawned and stretched out on the sand. “I'm too tired to dance tonight. Someone should tell a story.”
“Not one of those boring ones from that book Edmund and Libruns are reading, please,” said Lucy.
“They're not boring!” said Edmund.
“I have a tale,” said Timeseer before they could argue about it. “Shall any listen?”
“What tale have you?” said Peter, as he had learned.
“A tale of Narnia,” said the Centaur. “A tale of death and witchery, of love and life, a tale of happenings I witnessed. It is the tale of King Frank the Lost.”
“We listen,” said Peter. “Tell us your tale.”
III.
Narnia and Telmar
The Ninth Year of High King Peter and the Thirty-Fourth Year of Chief Belisan
It was just after midsummer when High King Peter and Queen Lucy visited Telmar. Telmarine ruffians and brigands were making a nuisance of themselves in the Western March, hunting along Narnia's southwest border. Two Narnians, Bristletail the Wolf and Nibbleaf the Rabbit, were accidentally shot and killed. After a flurry of letters to Timeseer, now Chief of the Moongrove Centaurs, Peter and Lucy sent a message ahead and set off for Telmar, accompanied by Clearscry the wise Eagle and twelve Winged Horses, and riding on the back of a not-overly-clever Dragon named Chrysophylax, who normally lived in a cave by Knucker's Mere with a pile of gold cursed by the White Witch.
Flying down on the Dragon was Lucy's idea, and she spent a long day riding the twenty-five miles to Knucker's Mere to recruit him, then ten miles down to the plain where the Winged Horses lived (she promised them a bag of sugar cubes) and at last to Paravel. She and Chrysophylax liked each other, and she adored flying. Peter hated every minute of it, but Timeseer had advised impressing Telmar with Narnia's might, and the alternative was marching through the mountains with a large warband. He could, of course, have sent Edmund, who had no trouble with heights, but Lucy insisted that she was going along, and Peter wasn't about to send Lucy off on the first visit to what Timeseer had described as “a motley and warlike people.” Even if hints from Timeseer and the other advisors about the Future of Narnia and Heirs to the Thrones were neither subtle or infrequent, and even if the Animals were hoping Susan would marry King Aran of Terebinthia. He didn't want to think about that.
So it was Peter sitting on the Dragon's back behind Lucy, strapped into the Dwarf-engineered harness, his arms wrapped around his sister's waist and his eyes squinched shut; while she went into raptures over the view and then (being tired) leaned back and took a nap on his shoulder. They reached the mountains on the evening of the second day, and that night were joined by Loneruff the Wolf and part of his pack. Bristletail had been Loneruff's lieutenant, his second-in-command, and the Alpha Wolf was angry.
All the next day, they flew through the mountains, but not until evening did they see anyone. While they were unloading and making camp, two men stepped out of the trees, dressed in fringed leather and armed with bows and arrows. All the hackles on Loneruff's neck went up when he caught their scent. He rushed and knocked down the shorter of the men; then stood over him and snarled.
Peter set down the bundle he was holding. “What goes here?”
“I didn't do anything!” said the man on the ground, trying to push the great Wolf off him. The second man reached for his bow, but the other five Wolves were ringed around him, and he stopped.
“This Man killed Bristletail.” said Loneruff. “My brother cried out and said, 'Do not shoot me, for I am a Narnian,' but the hunter did not listen. He shot him, stripped him of his skin, and left his body to rot.”
The man was whimpering now. “Call off your wolf, call off your wolf.”
Loneruff snarled and snapped, teeth dangerously close to the man's throat.
Peter stepped forward. “Peace, Loneruff.” His voice was cold. “Telmarine churl. Didst thou do this thing?”
“I-I didn't mean to! I didn't know he was anything special!”
“You address the High King of Narnia, worm!” snarled Loneruff.
“Peter-” said Lucy.
“Hath this other done aught?”
“I do not know, Your Majesty,” said Loneruff. “But if one would kill a Narnian, so would the other.”
“Telmarine,” Peter said to the second man. “How art thou called?”
“Nothan, sir.”
“Beware, Nothan of Telmar. We release thee this day, but stray not again onto Narnian soil, and spill not Narnian blood, else it shall go hardly with thee.”
“Aye sir,” said Nothan.
“Release him,” said Peter, and the Wolves drew back, growling low in their throats. “We shall take this one to his chief.”
Peter and Lucy were the only ones with hands, so they had to do the honors with the rope. Peter tied the man's wrists together and gave him to Chrysophylax to watch. “Flee, and the Dragon shall be after thee,” said Peter.
Then the Wolves and the Eagle went hunting, separately, while Peter built a fire, the Winged Horses grazed, and Lucy laid out the bedrolls.
Herding Boanzir, the Telmarine prisoner, along slowed the Wolves the next day, and the party didn't come to the last pass until late afternoon. Peter called a halt, and all the Horses circled gracefully down out of the sky. They stood with Clearscry, grooming their feathers, while Peter donned his mail shirt and Lucy went behind a clump of trees to change into a fresh dress. Peter was buckling his sword belt when she came out, her bow and quiver slung across her back and her dagger at her side. She had let her hair out of its windblown braid, so that it tumbled in riotous curls to her waist, restrained only by her golden circlet. She handed Peter his, and he put it on.
“Ready?”
He nodded.
Most of the food they were carrying had been eaten, and they made room on Chrysophylax for the captive hunter, leaving the Wolves free to run. Clearscry the Eagle flew first, then Chrysophylax the Dragon, then twelve Winged Horses fanned behind them like a skein of geese. And so they burst through the last mountain pass, the Wolves trotting beneath them, and flew down into the valley of Telmar.
IV.
Narnia
The First Year of High King Peter
Timeseer stamped a hoof and refolded his arms, raising and deepening his voice to carry across the beach. “My tale begins over two centuries ago, with Shale and Birk, the last good Kings of Narnia, twin brothers who ruled from twin thrones in in this very castle, Cair Paravel.”
“Did they have any sisters?” said Lucy.
“Nay, good maid. The brother-kings married sisters whom we remember as the Queens Wren and Silva, and then there were four thrones. King Shale and Queen Wren had one son and two daughters; King Birk and Queen Silva, two sons and one daughter, and when they died, the Kings left the land to all six children equally. But it was a legacy of war and not of peace, and the cousins fought among themselves until four lay dead, and the sacred Stone Table was stained with Human blood. Then King Birk's second son crowned himself King Than and his cousin-wife Queen Briar, and moved his seat from Paravel to the Castle Ravenswood in the north, just east of Lantern Waste.”
Peter frowned, trying to work out where that would be.
“For a century, the Kings of Narnia ruled from Ravenswood, each worse than the one before, until there came King Drake, the last and worst. His father was of the ancient line, yes, but his mother was a high-ranking Tarkheena of Western Calormen-a Tarkheena, Queen Susan, is a noble lady in the Empire of Calormen, which lies south of Narnia, beyond Archenland and beyond the fierce desert. King Edmund, in your studies, have you learned aught of whom the Calormenes worship?”
Edmund was poking at the fire with a stick, but now he straightened. “The Calormenes do not worship Aslan, but Tash, who has four arms, claws, and the head of a vulture.”
“Indeed,” said Timeseer. “The Calormenes worship many gods, among them Tash, and Drake's mother taught him not to love Aslan, but to serve as she herself did the heathen gods of the south. Thus, when Drake became King, he thought not of Aslan or Aslan's creatures, but mistrusted the Talking Beasts and surrounded himself with Human courtiers-advisors who were deaf, blind, and dumb.”
Lucy opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but Susan held a finger to her lips and Timeseer went on.
“Not one had the sight of an Eagle-” (Clearscry adjusted her wings) “the hearing of a Bat, the smell of a Hound-” (Sagepaw sniffed the air ostentatiously) “the constancy of a Badger, the speed of a Leopard-” (Fleetfoot, lying on his back with his paws in the air, could not then have looked less speedy) “the music of a Faun-” (Libruns nodded) “or the wisdom of a Centaur.”
Lucy mouthed a silent oh.
“Aslan gave Narnia to Men as a kingdom, and he gave the Men to Narnia as kings and protectors, but she is a land of Beasts and Birds, Nymphs and Fauns, Dwarfs and Centaurs. It is not for the King to exalt himself over his people.” Timeseer looked hard at High King Peter, and the boy looked levelly back, nodding once. The children had already learned to address the Narnians as “Cousins.”
“Did King Drake also marry a Tarkheena?” asked Edmund.
“Nay. His marriage was one of politics, and though he kept a dark-eyed dancing girl from Calormen as his mistress, his Queen was a flaxen-haired princess of Archenland. Queen Althea.” He was silent a moment. “She was a good woman and a better Queen than some. She loved Aslan and treated his creatures well, though not accustomed to them from childhood, and her husband's excesses grieved her, for he squandered Dwarf-minted gold on the gaudy splendoring of Castle Ravenswood: solid gold dishes for daily meals; a gold and ivory throne with six steps and figures of lions and vultures at each end; a jewel-encrusted shrine to Tash; slaves from Calormen to wait upon him and peacocks, monkeys, and kangaroos for his zoo.”
Susan frowned. “Did he have any children?”
“Children, yes-black-haired bastards from his mistress-but no heirs, for Drake did not love his Queen and she remained childless, though she prayed often to Aslan for a son who would restore Narnia.
“'The land hath fallen,' said she, 'the people are oppressed and led astray by a King who knoweth you not. Great Lion, grant me a son and I will teach him to love your truth, your ways, and your creatures. I will teach him to give magnanimously, to love tenderly, to judge wisely, and to fight courageously, that he may restore your peace to Narnia.'
“The Queen was often lonely, for she would not take part in the revels of her husband's court and his love for her was not increased by her failure to give him an heir; but she had a good friend in Lady Celia, who lived with her increasing family not far from Ravenswood, she went often to visit her people, and she was one of those who are close to Aslan. At last, in the tenth year of King Drake's reign, Aslan remembered Queen Althea, and she conceived.
V.
Telmar
Peter had sailed to the Lone Islands and to Terebinthia, had fought Giants in Ettinsmoor, had made a diplomatic visit to Tashbaan, and had flown through the mountains of the Western March-but Telmar was different. He supposed Aslan had made this valley, just as he had made the rest of the world, but Aslan must have used a different palette to paint it. The landscape was mostly dusty tan and faded sage, treebark-brown and pale flax. Even the grass was a tawny green, not the lush verdance of Narnian hills; and dotted with piny scrub.
A town-about a hundred cabins-lay in the center of the valley, with fields of grain to the left and south and smaller clusters of cabins dotted here and there. Though the mountains ranged around the nearly-circular valley like dark-blue sentinels, the sky felt wider and freer, and they raced through it at stomach-turning speed. Peter tried to keep his eyes open.
At first the village looked quite near, but they flew on for nearly five miles before they came to it. The sun was perched atop the highest peak ahead, the point of which curved sideways at an impossible angle, by the time they slackened their speed and coasted to the ground, a little bumpily. Clearscry settled on Peter's gloved hand, the Winged Horses re-formed their vee and the Wolves gathered between its wings; then they all stood a moment and looked at the sight before them.
A crowd had gathered at the edge of town-men with weathered faces holding spears, unsmiling mothers keeping their children close, eying the Dragon, the Winged Horses, the great gray Wolves. It was indeed a motley people, some as dark as men from Southern Calormen, some fair as Narnians, some fairer still with hair red as sunset.
“Ho, sir!” called Peter to a young man with sandy brown hair and dark-tanned skin. “Pray send word to thy Chief and King that Peter, High King of Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion is come, with Queen Lucy our sister, to see him.”
The youth touched his hand to his forehead in salute and hurried away. Peter and Lucy waited, looking about. The crowd numbered about twoscore, and a not-quite-peaceful wildness hung about them. They wore buckskins and undyed wool, with moccasins for their feet, beautifully fringed and decorated with silver and blue stones. The little girls had their hair braided with silver wire, leather thongs, and glinting bits of gray-gold stones.
The houses behind the people were built of rough logs and daubed with mud, but the dooryards (most of them) had been swept and tidied, and the chimneys looked homey. To the south a herd of cattle, a much smaller horse herd, and a few sheep grazed on the short, curly grass; to the north, Lucy thought she recognized a wheat field. She was no judge of wheat, and it was too far to see how good the cows were, but there were many of them.
(What Narnian livestock was not killed by the mobs before the winter was eaten during the long years of starvation; and though the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve who returned after the winter brought cows and chickens with them, milk was still a rarity in Narnia and most dairy was imported as cheese from Archenland. Chrysophylax had drunk all the milk from the Cair's cow for a week before coming; after that he had drunk water, eaten bread, and stayed away from meat, but still he steamed like a teakettle.)
At last the young man with the sandy hair returned, bringing two older men. All three saluted, right hands to temples, and the oldest, who had a silver earring in his ear, said, “Belisan, Chief of Telmar, King of the Mountains, Captain of the Telmarines, and Knight of the Exalted Order of the Wild Hawk, invites Peter and Lucy, High King and Queen of Narnia, to sup with him and his queen.”
Peter gave a small bow. “Give thy Chief and King our thanks, but we shall not eat until he hath heard our words.”
The man with the earring saluted. “Chief Belisan, King of the Mountains, does not do business after the sun touches Cutlass Peak.”
Peter gazed steadily at the man. “We of Narnia do not eat when scores are yet to be settled.”
The man sketched a third salute. “What scores are you talking about?”
Peter inclined his head. “Tell thy Chief that if he had read our missive, as his reply indicated, he would know that Telmarine hunters have killed two of our people. One of the hunters have we brought to him.”
The man raised an eyebrow, saluted once more, and went away. This time he was gone only long enough for Lucy to smile at a little red-haired girl with a solemn face. When he returned, he bowed awkwardly.
“Chief Belisan, King of the Mountains, invites High King Peter and Queen Lucy of Narnia to come speak with him, but asks that they leave their dragon, their horses, and their wolves here.”
“By no means,” said Peter. “Our friends and companions shall accompany us.”
The man looked helplessly at his companions, then set off through the streets, glancing back often at the Dragon, who trotted docilely behind Lucy, the prisoner's lead rope in his mouth. The Winged Horses had to form a double line, for the narrowness of the street, and the Wolves fell behind them. The sandy-haired youth and the other man kept their distance.
VI.
England
One should go down to get into a burrow or a den, but the steps here went up, and then there was a very tall tunnel with rooms off of it. Mr. 'Nuffleroot's tunnels weren't big enough for Mans, but did Mr. Man's tunnels have to be so very tall? Nevertheless, it was warm inside, and soon they came to a room where there were lots of papers with writing on them. Mr. Man cleared some papers off a kind of stool with four legs and a back, and invited him to take a seat. Frank sat down on the rug with Yi and waited.
There was a thing on the wall making noise. It went click, click, click, like a beetle-or maybe it was tick, tick, tick. Maybe it was trying to talk to him. He made click-ticks back at the thing, but it didn't pay any attention.
Mr. Man poured something from a bottle into a mug and handed it to him. There were bubbles on top, and it didn't really smell like ginger. He took a sip. It tickled and burned in his mouth and he coughed.
“You all right?” said the Man, pouring himself some “ginger-beer” and sitting down on a stool-with-a-back.
Frank nodded and took another sip. It didn't taste like ginger, either. It tasted like . . . bubbles. He thought he liked it.
“Well, here I am,” said the Man, “right in the middle of my Sunday sermon. All a-sudden I think I ought to check outside, and there you are, just sitting on the step. Where are your parents, Frank? Do you have a mum and dad?”
He shook his head. He had heard the others talking about this. “No muvver. No father. Muvver good woman. Poor child.”
Mr. Man blinked. “How old are you?”
Frank had to set down Yi to hold up two fingers. Then he remembered he had just had a birthday. Mrs. 'Winklewacks said he was three now. He held up another finger.
“What happened to your mum and dad?”
Frank had to think about that. He didn't quite know. Mr. 'Nuffleroot was Ruffle'nout's and Tusslebrock's father, and Mrs. 'Nuffleroot was their mother. He had once had a mother. Had he had a father? “Bad woman,” he said at last. “Witch. No father, no muvver no more.” He drank some more ginger-beer. It sparked in his nose. Mr. Man was looking straight at him, and he looked away.
“Who takes care of you?”
“Mr. 'Nuffleroot. Mrs. 'Nuffleroot. Aunt 'Ears'ry. Mrs. 'Winklewacks. Uncle Pewiwig. Uncle Panfer an' Soot'will went 'way. Bad woman taked them.”
“Where did she take them?”
His forehead wrinkled up. “Uncle Pewiwig says her killed them. Mrs. 'Winklewacks says, don't say 'round Fwankie.” He peeked up at Mr. Man, who was looking away now. “Where d'you live, Mr. Man?”
“Me? Just across the field in the parsonage.”
“What's a pars'nige?”
“It's the house where I live. Where do you live?”
“In th' sett.”
“The sett?”
He nodded. “Wif th' Badgers.”
Mr. Man sat back. “Badgers, you say?”
He nodded again and held out his mug. “Good Nanimals. C'n I have more?”
The Man poured more ginger-beer in his mug.
“Thankee,” he said.
“Where is this sett?” said Mr. Man. “How did you get here?”
He thought about that. How did he get here? He had been with Mrs. 'Winklewacks. She was teaching him how to hold up three fingers. Then they heard the snarling and the barking overhead, and Mrs. 'Winklewacks had looked away. Then he was in the green place, where it was warm and quiet, and Aslan was there, and Aslan licked his face. He had said, don't be afraid, and he would take care of Frank, and- “As'an said him would come wif me. Why tan't I see him?”
“Ass-an?
He looked at Yi's threadbare mane. “Him's big Lion. Him maked everyfing. An' the Nanimals an' the Mans an' the Trees an' the Rivers an' the Badgers an' the Hedge'ogs an' Fwank. Everyfing.”
Mr. Man was blinking again, like Soot'will the Owl used to blink in the sun. Slowly, he said, “God made everything, the seen and the unseen, the plants and animals and us and the stars-”
Frank nodded vigorously. “Him maked 'tars, too. 'Tars sing.”
“Yes-well-God made everything, and He is always with us, but we can't see Him.”
“Why?”
“Well, God is a spirit, and you can't see spirits.”
“Tan.”
“Pardon?”
“Tan too see 'pirits. Twees have 'pirits. Waters have 'pirits, an tan too see them.”
“Most of us can't.”
“Why?”
The Man sighed. “Spirits are invisible. God is a spirit. God is invisible.”
“Who's God?”
“God is a Spirit, infinite, eternal, and unchangeable in his being, wisdom, power, holiness, justice, goodness, and truth.”
Frank didn't know what those words meant. He knew that Aslan had made him, that Aslan smelled good and was furry and warm and loved him. “As'an licked me, see?” He pointed to his long-since-dried forehead. “I seed him. An' him's gone. Ever'body gone. Why?”
Mr. Man put his chin in his hands. “I don't know. I don't know who Ass-an is. I think you said he's a lion who made you. I don't know who you belong to. Why don't you come home and have tea with me and my wife? Then we can figure out whose you are. Want to come?”
Frank knew quite well who he belonged to, but tea meant bread and honey. “Yes,” he said again, tucking Yi under his arm and standing up.
VII.
Telmar
Belisan, Chief of Telmar, King of the Mountains, Captain of the Telmarines, and Knight of the Exalted Order of the Wild Hawk lived in an impressively large log building (was it palace or fort or hall?), built west of town, with plenty of space between it and the other cabins. In this space, the Winged Horses and four of the Wolves waited, with Chrysophylax and the Telmarine hunter. The Dragon coiled his scaly tail around himself and put his head down, steam curling lazily from his nostrils and the rope still firmly in his mouth. Clearscry remained on Peter's wrist, Lucy moved forward to stand at Peter's side, with Loneruff beside Peter and Loneruff's new lieutenant beside Lucy.
So they entered the stronghold. Though there were small windows in the walls, the light came from torches and a fire in the center of the room. There was a bit of chimney in the roof, not enough to let the smoke out, but the ceiling was so high that most of the smoke went up in search of a way out and never found its way back down again.
The walls were covered with animal skins, brightly painted in symbolic and geometric designs, but that was not what captured Lucy's attention. Directly ahead, behind the firepit, sat Chief Belisan himself, on a throne carved from a single massive log, skillfully shaped, with designs burned into the wood and inlaid with silver. Above the throne, a curved knife-a cutlass, she thought, not a Calormene scimitar-hung on the wall, and above that there were the antlers of a great stag.
The man sitting in that throne was just as impressive as the symbols around him, with long gray hair and beard and earrings in both ears. He was dressed in white, silver-beaded buckskins and crowned with a branched, antler-like silver crown, set with emeralds and the blue stones. At his feet sat a dark, curly-headed boy with quill and vellum.
The older of the two men who had spoken with Peter now saluted Chief Belisan. “The Narnian High King and Queen, sir. Their beasts are outside.”
The Chief nodded, and the three men who had brought Peter and Lucy now retired to the corners of the room. Peter bowed to Belisan, and Belisan lazily saluted him.
“Ahoy, King of Narnia.”
“Greetings, Chief of Telmar.”
“What business cannot wait until tomorrow?”
Was he merely lazy, or did he not consider them old enough, important enough, to take seriously?
“Telmarines encroach on our soil. They have shot and killed two of our subjects, not even bothering to bury the remains. We come to make clear unto you that if you do not stop these men who call themselves your subjects, then our land and yours shall be enemies.”
“So you have come to spy out our defenses.”
“Give us assurance that these outrages will be stopped, and swear peace with us. Then we shall swear peace with you and trade with you-horses for your cattle, steel for your silver, and silk for your leather.”
“Assurance, you say. You captured one of these hunters and brought him with you?”
“Yes, King,” growled Loneruff.
He raised his eyebrows. “It talks.”
“Peace, Loneruff,” murmured Lucy.
“So, you demand a restitution?” said Belisan. “The hunter will die for the Narnian he killed, and . . .” he looked around the room and settled on the sandy-haired youth, “that young man for the other Narnian. A life for a life. You should have killed the hunter when you caught him, and not come all this way to bother me.”
Lucy paled. “No. We would not have you spill innocent blood.” Where had these people come from? They were not descended from Frank and Helen, but they were not Calormenes. Were all Telmarines this cruel, this bloodthirsty?
He chuckled. “The boy is hardly innocent, pretty girl. His father was loyal to Uvilas-damn him-and I have put up with him long enough.”
Lucy felt hot all over, but Peter's voice was chill and calm. “Then 'twould hardly be a fair exchange, for Nibbleaf the Rabbit was a beloved subject and friend, even if 'twere otherwise acceptable.”
“A rabbit? A rabbit?”
“Narnia, in case you hadn't noticed, is a land of Talking Beasts,” said Loneruff.
“And, by all accounts, of endless winter and cold blood,” said Belisan, “so why you object-”
“No,” said Lucy again, trying to control her anger. “The White Witch hath been killed, her spell of winter hath broken, and Narnians no longer take a life for a life.”
“My sister, the Queen, speaketh rightly,” said Peter. “Give us thy earnest in silver and in the blue stones your people wear, and give your word, sworn on what you hold sacred, that your hunters will trespass no longer on Narnian soil. Then we and our honor shall be satisfied.”
The Chief seemed bored again. “What price do you demand?”
“You offered the lives of two of your subjects,” said Clearscry. “What price would you give them?”
They stood there and negotiated, their conversation punctuated by growls from the Wolves. Peter's arm ached from bearing Clearscry, but her counsel was wise. At last they reached a number which Loneruff accepted on behalf of his pack, and a similar number which Lucy accepted on behalf of Nibbleaf's warren. The amount was brought forth in silver and polished turquoise, solemnly weighed out, and placed in two leather sacks.
“Will you prevent further such depredations of Narnian life?” asked Peter.
Belisan leaned down and his scribe whispered in his ear. Lucy had a sudden, wild thought that he did not know what “depredation” meant.
“The Western March is not my territory, and I cannot patrol the mountains, but you may kill any you catch attacking your people.”
Clearscry whispered in Peter's ear. He looked at Lucy, and she nodded. It seemed the best they could do.
“And do you swear not to come against us in war, but to preserve the peace between Telmar and Narnia?”
Belisan sighed. “I, Belisan, Chief of Telmar, King of the Mountains, Captain of the Telmarines, and Knight of the Exalted Order of the Wild Hawk, swear by the gods my people worship, not to break the peace between Telmar and Narnia.”
“And we, High King of Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, do swear by the Lion Aslan to keep the peace with Telmar and Telmarines unless provoked. With those who attack our people we will do as we see fit.”
“And so do I, Lucy, Queen of Narnia, Countess of Glasswater, Keeper of the Stone Table, and Lady of the Vial, swear by the Lion Aslan.” She looked at the Wolf. “Loneruff.” she hissed.
He grumbled in his throat. “And I, Loneruff, Alpha Wolf of the Western March Wolves, swear by the Great Lion not to harm any Telmarine without provocation, but if my Wolves are harmed, or any other Narnians of the border territories which we protect, I will not hold back.”
Belisan saluted halfheartedly. “Too much business after sundown. Are you happy now? Your scores are settled?”
“Yea,” said Peter.
“You are surely tired from your journey, and my wife is waiting for me with supper. Young Peridan-whom I should not have minded executing-will show you to a cabin. Good night.”
The audience was over.
VIII.
Narnia
Now in those days, said Timeseer, the creatures of Narnia saw the evil of their Kings, and they murmured against them. The Beasts and Dwarfs saw that Drake thought of them as he thought of his slaves, valuable only for the work they could do or the gold they could produce; and the Nymphs of Wood and Water saw that Drake did not honor them, but soiled the Rivers and cut down the Trees with no thought for the land; and they resented this. Many now repeated what some had whispered in the days of the Terebinthian Revolution, in the time of Drake's father and grandfather, that perhaps Man should not rule Narnia.
“Mr. Beaver said that Aslan brought King Frank and Queen Helen to Narnia and crowned them in the very beginning,” said Lucy.
“Yes,” said Timeseer, “but did he say who came with them?”
“A boy and a girl-weren't their names Lord Digory and Lady Polly?”
“Who else?”
She laughed. “The Neevil, with its fluffy white hair-”
But Edmund shook his head. “And the witch, Lucy.”
“Yes, King Edmund.”
Good King Frank was a Son of Adam, and never was Narnia happier than in the idyllic days of Swanwhite the Daughter of Eve, but it was also a Son of Adam who brought the Witch into Narnia. Now, in the days of Drake, few remembered the Witch or believed she still lived. What they said in those days was that it was a Man who killed Queen Swanwhite, it was a Man who killed his brothers and cousins to make himself King, and it was a Man who sat on the gold-and-ivory throne in Ravenswood.
Of all who said such things that summer, over a century ago, when Queen Althea was with child, the Dragon Milophylax, from Knucker's Mere in north-central Narnia, spoke loudest, and many gathered by the sacred Tree of Protection to hear him.
“You are Beasts!” said he. “Or have you forgotten that the same Human who brought Evil into Narnia planted this tree? They say it is for our protection, but is it not here to keep Human kings over us? We have been strictly warned all our lives not to eat its fruit, for there is strong magic in it. Strong magic, I say, to keep the Men strong and the Beasts weak. As long as this tree stands, Drake shall be King, shut up in that castle with his southern friends and his rich luxury-the silks you Dryads wove; the gold you Dwarfs hammered; the books you, Centaurs, wrote. But do we enjoy the fruits of our labors? Never! We toil and slave, so that those Humans may live their useless lives of luxurious ease. How much longer shall we endure this tyranny?”
Thus did Milophylax stir up the Narnians, the summer Queen Althea was with child. But in her sixth month, Aslan came to the Queen as she rested alone in her chambers, and said to her,
“I have heard your many prayers, my daughter, and my blessing shall be upon your sons from their birth-for you are of Archenland, and in your womb you carry twins. They and their descendants are dear to my heart, and through them shall come the restoration of Narnia, though you yourself shall not see it.”
Part 2
Part 3