Swept Away - A Narnian Swashbuckler
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Lady Badger
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Bravo! Bravo! -and so many views already!
Lil Princess
Member
Wow! I had missed several chapters and to read it all at once was amazing. Just Wow.
I liked that too. They're all so dear characters.
I liked that too. They're all so dear characters.
That was an exciting race!! Nice!
And better give fallguy his old name back.
And better give fallguy his old name back.
Chapter 18: TRUNDLE'S LARK
The delays they had faced along the way had put them in serious danger. In the desert there were two seasons of the year, bad and worse, and they were quickly going from bad to worse.
Fortunately by a disciplined, determined effort they had reached the next town within a week. Sir Joseph said, “Well my friends, there is En-ezzir! We are in luck!” And they were, but in Calormen there are two kinds of luck…bad and worse.
They had hardly set foot in the city proper when Constable Krugh, a big and unfriendly-looking fellow, caught sight of them. He came over immediately. “You don’t belong here. Show me your papers and be quick about it.”
After examining them for a bit, his serious face turned into a wicked smile and he burst out laughing.
“Are our papers in order?” Sir Joseph asked.
“You don’t read Calormene Script,” Krugh constable said with a smirk. “It says, and I quote, These well meaning idiots are determined to die in the desert sun. They will do you no harm and may be good for a laugh. Sincerely, Governor Habrash, Tarkaan Province.” He looked them over closely. “I know how to handle folk like you. So watch yourselves while you’re in my town. I will.”
Sir Joseph snatched back the paper. “Don’t worry…sir.”
From that moment on the three friends had a new shadow. Sometimes he would stand out in the open, arms crossed or resting akimbo on his hips. Sometimes he was a vague suggestion of a movement in an alley or the rustle of a bush.
“Keep your paws to yourself,” Joseph said quietly, his ears twitching about at a suspicious noise. “Don’t touch anything, keep moving, be pleasant. I only wish we had gone around, even if it added a lot of extra time. At least when we get out of town his jurisdiction ends.”
“That’s a good thing, right?” Orlando asked.
“Yes. It means he can’t touch us.”
Trundle added, “I don’t even want him looking at us.”
Trundle looked at some fresh fruit being hawked. He wasn’t really low on supplies but the round bronzed spheres intrigued him as did their exotic fragrance.
“What are these?”
“Oranges, my striped friend.”
“Are they good to eat?”
The shopkeeper handed him one. “Try it. You’ll love it.”
Trundle opened it. The fruit was in sections and he was delighted by the way it came apart without being cut. “I’ll take a dozen.”
“Those are two crescents apiece. That will be twenty-four.”
Trundle nodded. “Fair and good.” He shook some coins out from his purse and counted them out. “Twenty-four crescents.”
No sooner did the last coin jingle as it went into the shopkeeper’s till than Constable Krugh made his appearance.
“You with the stripes. You are under arrest!”
“Me? But I did nothing wrong!”
“The judge will be here in three days. You can explain it to him.”
Joseph felt his paw reaching for his sword hilt but thought better of it. There had to be a better way than slaying the Constable in the open street.
Trundle languished in his cell in the old bailey. He had been served dinner, a crust of stale bread, some watery broth and a bucket of water he wasn’t sure if it was to be drunk, washed in, or both.
“You are not alone in this,” Joseph whispered to him through the bars. “We will get you out soon. I promise.”
“I believe you. You always keep your promises. But there won’t be a wine barrel this time. I think it’s going to get nasty.”
“Not for you. And besides, what’s the worst thing that could happen to you…a fine? I’ll handle that.”
“You’re a good friend,” the badger said with a smile. “I’m lucky to have you. Now you find a room for the night…I have one.”
Joseph half smiled. “That’s my Stripey Dog.”
The delays they had faced along the way had put them in serious danger. In the desert there were two seasons of the year, bad and worse, and they were quickly going from bad to worse.
Fortunately by a disciplined, determined effort they had reached the next town within a week. Sir Joseph said, “Well my friends, there is En-ezzir! We are in luck!” And they were, but in Calormen there are two kinds of luck…bad and worse.
They had hardly set foot in the city proper when Constable Krugh, a big and unfriendly-looking fellow, caught sight of them. He came over immediately. “You don’t belong here. Show me your papers and be quick about it.”
After examining them for a bit, his serious face turned into a wicked smile and he burst out laughing.
“Are our papers in order?” Sir Joseph asked.
“You don’t read Calormene Script,” Krugh constable said with a smirk. “It says, and I quote, These well meaning idiots are determined to die in the desert sun. They will do you no harm and may be good for a laugh. Sincerely, Governor Habrash, Tarkaan Province.” He looked them over closely. “I know how to handle folk like you. So watch yourselves while you’re in my town. I will.”
Sir Joseph snatched back the paper. “Don’t worry…sir.”
***
From that moment on the three friends had a new shadow. Sometimes he would stand out in the open, arms crossed or resting akimbo on his hips. Sometimes he was a vague suggestion of a movement in an alley or the rustle of a bush.
“Keep your paws to yourself,” Joseph said quietly, his ears twitching about at a suspicious noise. “Don’t touch anything, keep moving, be pleasant. I only wish we had gone around, even if it added a lot of extra time. At least when we get out of town his jurisdiction ends.”
“That’s a good thing, right?” Orlando asked.
“Yes. It means he can’t touch us.”
Trundle added, “I don’t even want him looking at us.”
***
Trundle looked at some fresh fruit being hawked. He wasn’t really low on supplies but the round bronzed spheres intrigued him as did their exotic fragrance.
“What are these?”
“Oranges, my striped friend.”
“Are they good to eat?”
The shopkeeper handed him one. “Try it. You’ll love it.”
Trundle opened it. The fruit was in sections and he was delighted by the way it came apart without being cut. “I’ll take a dozen.”
“Those are two crescents apiece. That will be twenty-four.”
Trundle nodded. “Fair and good.” He shook some coins out from his purse and counted them out. “Twenty-four crescents.”
No sooner did the last coin jingle as it went into the shopkeeper’s till than Constable Krugh made his appearance.
“You with the stripes. You are under arrest!”
“Me? But I did nothing wrong!”
“The judge will be here in three days. You can explain it to him.”
Joseph felt his paw reaching for his sword hilt but thought better of it. There had to be a better way than slaying the Constable in the open street.
***
Trundle languished in his cell in the old bailey. He had been served dinner, a crust of stale bread, some watery broth and a bucket of water he wasn’t sure if it was to be drunk, washed in, or both.
“You are not alone in this,” Joseph whispered to him through the bars. “We will get you out soon. I promise.”
“I believe you. You always keep your promises. But there won’t be a wine barrel this time. I think it’s going to get nasty.”
“Not for you. And besides, what’s the worst thing that could happen to you…a fine? I’ll handle that.”
“You’re a good friend,” the badger said with a smile. “I’m lucky to have you. Now you find a room for the night…I have one.”
Joseph half smiled. “That’s my Stripey Dog.”
***
[CONTINUED]
Trundle’s flush of courage left when his friends disappeared from view. The walls of his small cell began to close in on him.
The badger started to sing, but the jailor banged on the bars with his staff. “You, stow the bilge!”
Trundle sighed deeply. “It’s a good thing my folks don’t know,” he murmured quietly. “No one in my family has ever been arrested…till now.”
The shopkeeper felt responsible for the whole muddle and invited Joseph and Orlando to spend the night at his house. “I was cruel by being kind,” he explained. “I should have charged him for thirteen and then given him two crescents as a gift.”
Sir Joseph scratched his head. “What’s the difference?”
“A lot of difference when Krugh is out for you. Technically he would be right, for there is a law against selling goods for under the minimum price. It was meant to protect us.”
“Protect you?”
“Once a rich merchant gave away apples at a dozen a crescent to put a poorer merchant out of business, then he raised the prices to twice the going rate when he was the only one in town. But the law was not intended to prevent me from giving away free samples. I do it all the time.”
“Then why us? What did we do? I offered him a bribe but he didn’t take the money.”
“He’s not interested in the money. He wants revenge. His son was in the last war and came home missing an eye. The girl he was set to marry could not look at him in the face without crying. For Krugh the war will never be over.”
Sir Joseph sighed. “I hope the judge is more objective.”
“Given a chance, he is. But often…far too often…Krugh arrested his enemies and they ended up dead before the judge could arrive. I fear he will tempt your badger friend to make a break for it so he can have an excuse to kill him.”
“Then I will go down there and run him through on my sword if it means my death.”
“Wait, eared one. There is another way…”
Trundle spent his first night in jail doing what most folk do in those circumstances, realizing the mess he was in. That was one nightmare that Joseph wouldn’t wake him from.
He thought on his willingness to die bravely in combat for something he believed in, but instead found himself rotting away in a cell for a crime he did not commit. He thought of his shop sitting idle, of his Mum and Dad and that he might never see them again. “I won’t cry,” he said to himself, looking at the moon outside the barred window. That was the same moon that shone on Cair Paravel. It looked close enough in the balmy night to reach out and touch. “I won’t cry,” he stammered again, tears streaming down his face. He went and huddled in the corner trying to keep warm without his blanket.
Then something that would bring him a lot more comfort than a blanket was tossed in his window. It was a note from Sir Joseph.
The next morning Krugh had his tea and kippers and put on his wide brimmed hat. “Alright, you, I’m about to go on patrol. I want no trouble while I’m gone.” He hung the keys to the cell block almost within reach of Trundle’s paws. “Here, take this.” He thrust a broom through the bars. “Work keeps a bloke out of mischief—that’s what I always say. Sweep out your cell while I’m gone, and if it doesn’t meet my test, you’ll get yours.”
It was clearly obvious to Trundle that the man was playing stupid. He thought to himself, “Oh don’t you just wish I would try for those keys!”
To Krugh’s consternation, he came back to find Trundle’s cell sparkling clean and occupied by one very polite badger.
He grumbled to himself, “It’s amazing that animals that stupid lasted a week against our armies…” Then he thought a bit. “Or perhaps not so stupid…”
Trundle looked surprisingly upbeat and chipper. The badger hummed to himself as he looked out the window at the people passing by.
“You seem to be in a very good mood for someone in so much trouble,” Krugh said at last.
“Trouble? Me? I have Aslan on my side.”
“Aslan? The talking lion? If there even was an Aslan, do you think you’d be here? You and that foolish religion of yours.”
“Foolish? You wouldn’t have said that if you’d been here half an hour ago. No sir, you would be singing to a different tune.”
“And what happened while I was gone?”
“He was here. He himself. And he’s coming back tonight to settle the score.”
Krugh did not so much as raise an eyebrow, and he never admitted being afraid. Still, somewhere along the day’s business he managed to acquire a deputy with a long scimitar and dagger in his belt who stayed near him at all times.
[CONTINUED]
The badger started to sing, but the jailor banged on the bars with his staff. “You, stow the bilge!”
Trundle sighed deeply. “It’s a good thing my folks don’t know,” he murmured quietly. “No one in my family has ever been arrested…till now.”
***
The shopkeeper felt responsible for the whole muddle and invited Joseph and Orlando to spend the night at his house. “I was cruel by being kind,” he explained. “I should have charged him for thirteen and then given him two crescents as a gift.”
Sir Joseph scratched his head. “What’s the difference?”
“A lot of difference when Krugh is out for you. Technically he would be right, for there is a law against selling goods for under the minimum price. It was meant to protect us.”
“Protect you?”
“Once a rich merchant gave away apples at a dozen a crescent to put a poorer merchant out of business, then he raised the prices to twice the going rate when he was the only one in town. But the law was not intended to prevent me from giving away free samples. I do it all the time.”
“Then why us? What did we do? I offered him a bribe but he didn’t take the money.”
“He’s not interested in the money. He wants revenge. His son was in the last war and came home missing an eye. The girl he was set to marry could not look at him in the face without crying. For Krugh the war will never be over.”
Sir Joseph sighed. “I hope the judge is more objective.”
“Given a chance, he is. But often…far too often…Krugh arrested his enemies and they ended up dead before the judge could arrive. I fear he will tempt your badger friend to make a break for it so he can have an excuse to kill him.”
“Then I will go down there and run him through on my sword if it means my death.”
“Wait, eared one. There is another way…”
***
Trundle spent his first night in jail doing what most folk do in those circumstances, realizing the mess he was in. That was one nightmare that Joseph wouldn’t wake him from.
He thought on his willingness to die bravely in combat for something he believed in, but instead found himself rotting away in a cell for a crime he did not commit. He thought of his shop sitting idle, of his Mum and Dad and that he might never see them again. “I won’t cry,” he said to himself, looking at the moon outside the barred window. That was the same moon that shone on Cair Paravel. It looked close enough in the balmy night to reach out and touch. “I won’t cry,” he stammered again, tears streaming down his face. He went and huddled in the corner trying to keep warm without his blanket.
Then something that would bring him a lot more comfort than a blanket was tossed in his window. It was a note from Sir Joseph.
***
The next morning Krugh had his tea and kippers and put on his wide brimmed hat. “Alright, you, I’m about to go on patrol. I want no trouble while I’m gone.” He hung the keys to the cell block almost within reach of Trundle’s paws. “Here, take this.” He thrust a broom through the bars. “Work keeps a bloke out of mischief—that’s what I always say. Sweep out your cell while I’m gone, and if it doesn’t meet my test, you’ll get yours.”
It was clearly obvious to Trundle that the man was playing stupid. He thought to himself, “Oh don’t you just wish I would try for those keys!”
***
To Krugh’s consternation, he came back to find Trundle’s cell sparkling clean and occupied by one very polite badger.
He grumbled to himself, “It’s amazing that animals that stupid lasted a week against our armies…” Then he thought a bit. “Or perhaps not so stupid…”
Trundle looked surprisingly upbeat and chipper. The badger hummed to himself as he looked out the window at the people passing by.
“You seem to be in a very good mood for someone in so much trouble,” Krugh said at last.
“Trouble? Me? I have Aslan on my side.”
“Aslan? The talking lion? If there even was an Aslan, do you think you’d be here? You and that foolish religion of yours.”
“Foolish? You wouldn’t have said that if you’d been here half an hour ago. No sir, you would be singing to a different tune.”
“And what happened while I was gone?”
“He was here. He himself. And he’s coming back tonight to settle the score.”
Krugh did not so much as raise an eyebrow, and he never admitted being afraid. Still, somewhere along the day’s business he managed to acquire a deputy with a long scimitar and dagger in his belt who stayed near him at all times.
***
[CONTINUED]
Orlando paced about the room nervously. After a while, Joseph looked up at him. “You’re wearing out the rug.”
“I’m sorry,” the boy said, settling against a wall and leaning his head against his knees. “I’ll feel better when Mr. Trundle gets out.”
“I know,” the hare intoned. “Me too. He’s such a faithful friend, and as much as I hate to admit it, the Governor Habrash was right. He’s good for a laugh, bless his dear soul.”
“Like that bit with the loo.”
“Oh yes, and his time on shipboard.” Joseph smiled a bit. “He loved everything about sailing except seasickness. Why that fellow fell down the ladder once. I asked him if he hurt himself and do you know what he said?”
“Garn and garbage?”
“No, he said, ‘I think I’ve roughed up my starboard ankle!’”
Orlando flashed an embarrassed grin. “Starboard ankle! That sounds like Mr. Trundle.”
“Oh, about that…” Joseph came closer and sat next to the boy. “I really think he’d like for you to call him Trundle. Just Trundle. And you can call me Joseph.”
“I’d like that…Joseph.” The boy leaned his face against the hare’s shoulder. “I wonder if he’s scared.”
“I’m sure he is. I am too.”
That evening as the sun set, Trundle stood by the window helping the shopkeeper loop a rope around the bars. The other end went to a pair of yoked oxen.
Joseph handed the badger a horn, a nice shiny brass horn such as the postman blew when the mail had come. He’d always wanted to blow one, and now he was going to get his chance.
He put his mouth to the piece…
“Not yet!” the hare hissed. Wait for the signal…”
Joseph and Orlando had a horn as well, and the boy also had a bullroarer, a children’s toy in Narnia made by tying a flat blade of wood on a long cord. When spun about, it would produce quite a racket.
Sir Joseph stepped a few paces from the bars and raised his paws, whiskers twitching in anticipation…
Krugh tried hard to hide his frazzled nerves, playing a game of Harom with his deputy and making pointless remarks about the weather and how it caused a bitter crop of tea last year and how he hoped things would be different that year. “Maybe our luck will change,” he said.
Just then, his luck changed. There were trumpet blasts, loud whirring sounds and a tremendous crashing!
The Harom board got upset and the pieces scattered all over the floor.
“Hail Aslan! Lord of the Seventh Heaven!”
“Go check that out!” Krugh hissed.
“I…I…”
“Now!”
The deputy gathered his wits and went back to the cell block. What he saw was a huge hole in the wall and the floor scattered with blossoms.
The deputy picked up one of the flowers and smelled it. It practically reeked of incense., and he dropped it in superstitious horror. “Aslan?”
“No, Hagamesh. Certainly.”
The three friends did not stop to sleep that night. They wanted to leave En-ezzir and its obsessed Constable far behind them before the sunrise. “I wish I could have been a fly on the wall,” Joseph said. “I would have given anything to see his face!”
“I wouldn’t,” Trundle said. “I never want to see that face again.”
“Come now, you’ve quite literally fought the last skirmish of the Calormene War and lived to tell about it. That’s a story for the furlings around the fire, hmm?”
“I should say not. I shan’t breathe a word about this to anyone. Being arrested, sitting in jail. I should become my family’s stone to drag.”
“Why?” Joseph said. “You did nothing wrong, and you certainly made fools out of those guards. Laugh it off! All in all it was a jolly lark.”
“Jolly lark?” Trundle looked him askance. “Garn, it’s times like this I’m glad to be a badger. Jolly lark indeed!”
[CONTINUED TOMORROW - THEN THE CONCLUSION ON THURSDAY!]
“I’m sorry,” the boy said, settling against a wall and leaning his head against his knees. “I’ll feel better when Mr. Trundle gets out.”
“I know,” the hare intoned. “Me too. He’s such a faithful friend, and as much as I hate to admit it, the Governor Habrash was right. He’s good for a laugh, bless his dear soul.”
“Like that bit with the loo.”
“Oh yes, and his time on shipboard.” Joseph smiled a bit. “He loved everything about sailing except seasickness. Why that fellow fell down the ladder once. I asked him if he hurt himself and do you know what he said?”
“Garn and garbage?”
“No, he said, ‘I think I’ve roughed up my starboard ankle!’”
Orlando flashed an embarrassed grin. “Starboard ankle! That sounds like Mr. Trundle.”
“Oh, about that…” Joseph came closer and sat next to the boy. “I really think he’d like for you to call him Trundle. Just Trundle. And you can call me Joseph.”
“I’d like that…Joseph.” The boy leaned his face against the hare’s shoulder. “I wonder if he’s scared.”
“I’m sure he is. I am too.”
***
That evening as the sun set, Trundle stood by the window helping the shopkeeper loop a rope around the bars. The other end went to a pair of yoked oxen.
Joseph handed the badger a horn, a nice shiny brass horn such as the postman blew when the mail had come. He’d always wanted to blow one, and now he was going to get his chance.
He put his mouth to the piece…
“Not yet!” the hare hissed. Wait for the signal…”
Joseph and Orlando had a horn as well, and the boy also had a bullroarer, a children’s toy in Narnia made by tying a flat blade of wood on a long cord. When spun about, it would produce quite a racket.
Sir Joseph stepped a few paces from the bars and raised his paws, whiskers twitching in anticipation…
***
Krugh tried hard to hide his frazzled nerves, playing a game of Harom with his deputy and making pointless remarks about the weather and how it caused a bitter crop of tea last year and how he hoped things would be different that year. “Maybe our luck will change,” he said.
Just then, his luck changed. There were trumpet blasts, loud whirring sounds and a tremendous crashing!
The Harom board got upset and the pieces scattered all over the floor.
“Hail Aslan! Lord of the Seventh Heaven!”
“Go check that out!” Krugh hissed.
“I…I…”
“Now!”
The deputy gathered his wits and went back to the cell block. What he saw was a huge hole in the wall and the floor scattered with blossoms.
The deputy picked up one of the flowers and smelled it. It practically reeked of incense., and he dropped it in superstitious horror. “Aslan?”
“No, Hagamesh. Certainly.”
***
The three friends did not stop to sleep that night. They wanted to leave En-ezzir and its obsessed Constable far behind them before the sunrise. “I wish I could have been a fly on the wall,” Joseph said. “I would have given anything to see his face!”
“I wouldn’t,” Trundle said. “I never want to see that face again.”
“Come now, you’ve quite literally fought the last skirmish of the Calormene War and lived to tell about it. That’s a story for the furlings around the fire, hmm?”
“I should say not. I shan’t breathe a word about this to anyone. Being arrested, sitting in jail. I should become my family’s stone to drag.”
“Why?” Joseph said. “You did nothing wrong, and you certainly made fools out of those guards. Laugh it off! All in all it was a jolly lark.”
“Jolly lark?” Trundle looked him askance. “Garn, it’s times like this I’m glad to be a badger. Jolly lark indeed!”
[CONTINUED TOMORROW - THEN THE CONCLUSION ON THURSDAY!]
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On Thursday evening I'll release the new "Swept Away" website with a PDF version of the novelette and several features such as a photo album tour and Sir Joseph's map.
SweetWaters
New member
I laughed so hard when I read this!!!!!!! I love this story - especially Trundle, he is too awesome.
The end is near? Oh my!!
Chapter 19: THE RIVER
The lush green in the distance looked like a mirage, one of those curious things veterans of the Calormene Wars spoke of to their families. But as they drew closer to the strip of vegetation snaking across the horizon, they knew it was no illusion.
“Hooray!” Trundle shouted, “A nice cool bath and a long cool drink! And the palm trees! Do you think there will be dates and coconuts?”
“Perhaps,” Joseph said, a hint of tension in his voice.
“Is something wrong?”
The hare sighed. “That’s one place I’ll be glad to leave behind—miles behind, and the sooner the better.”
“Run from an oasis? After all this desert?”
Joseph sighed again. “Ahead of us lies Araksham. More of our Narnian blood was shed in this one place in one day than all the other battles in Calormen put together. More of their blood too, and Calormenes have long memories.”
The river was lovely but broad and swift. Trundle washed the dust from himself on the bank but did not dare try to swim to the opposite bank.
They turned upstream and walked along the bank knowing that where water ran, life followed. And they did finally locate a small house with a cable ferry.
They knocked. The man that came to the door took one look at them and said “Go away.”
Joseph stopped him before he could slam the door. “Sir, we are paying customers. We want to cross the river.”
Why don’t you swim it, Narnian dogs??”
The hare turned a bit to reveal his sword hilt, but did not draw it. He plucked three silver crescents from his purse and tossed them on the floor. “That should more than cover it.”
They headed to the ferry. As they started across, the man ran out with an old sword. He did not get to them before they had already started across so, full of hate, he started hacking at the rope.
“Quick!” Trundle shouted, Grab the line!
The vindictive Calormene cut through the rope but not before the hare, badger and boy had held fast the standing part.
The water was cold, but in the desert heat it felt good. The current swept them downstream, but also aimed them at the far bank, the rope pulling them slowly but surely in the direction where they wanted to go.
“All he did was lose a perfectly good boat,” Trundle spat.
“So much hate,” Sir Joseph said, shaking his head. “How do they live with it?”
“Maybe he lost a son in the war,” Orlando said. That’s where my parents died.
“Your mum too?”
“They weren’t in the navy,” the boy said. “They helped evacuate Komor Bay. At least they tried to.”
“So they drowned saving our soldiers?”
“No, they were captured but there were too many grown-ups to sell. I fetched a good price, but Mom and Dad were surplus—that’s the word they used—and so instead of turning loose Narnians during wartime they beheaded everyone they couldn't sell.”
“You hate Calormenes, don’t you…”
He shrugged. “No. I don’t even hate the Captain. Just the dirty jackal’s draw that killed my Mom and Dad.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ve never killed anyone, but I think I could kill the Kes.”
Joseph’s eyes narrowed. “I know I could.”
[CONTINUED]
The lush green in the distance looked like a mirage, one of those curious things veterans of the Calormene Wars spoke of to their families. But as they drew closer to the strip of vegetation snaking across the horizon, they knew it was no illusion.
“Hooray!” Trundle shouted, “A nice cool bath and a long cool drink! And the palm trees! Do you think there will be dates and coconuts?”
“Perhaps,” Joseph said, a hint of tension in his voice.
“Is something wrong?”
The hare sighed. “That’s one place I’ll be glad to leave behind—miles behind, and the sooner the better.”
“Run from an oasis? After all this desert?”
Joseph sighed again. “Ahead of us lies Araksham. More of our Narnian blood was shed in this one place in one day than all the other battles in Calormen put together. More of their blood too, and Calormenes have long memories.”
***
The river was lovely but broad and swift. Trundle washed the dust from himself on the bank but did not dare try to swim to the opposite bank.
They turned upstream and walked along the bank knowing that where water ran, life followed. And they did finally locate a small house with a cable ferry.
They knocked. The man that came to the door took one look at them and said “Go away.”
Joseph stopped him before he could slam the door. “Sir, we are paying customers. We want to cross the river.”
Why don’t you swim it, Narnian dogs??”
The hare turned a bit to reveal his sword hilt, but did not draw it. He plucked three silver crescents from his purse and tossed them on the floor. “That should more than cover it.”
They headed to the ferry. As they started across, the man ran out with an old sword. He did not get to them before they had already started across so, full of hate, he started hacking at the rope.
“Quick!” Trundle shouted, Grab the line!
The vindictive Calormene cut through the rope but not before the hare, badger and boy had held fast the standing part.
The water was cold, but in the desert heat it felt good. The current swept them downstream, but also aimed them at the far bank, the rope pulling them slowly but surely in the direction where they wanted to go.
“All he did was lose a perfectly good boat,” Trundle spat.
“So much hate,” Sir Joseph said, shaking his head. “How do they live with it?”
“Maybe he lost a son in the war,” Orlando said. That’s where my parents died.
“Your mum too?”
“They weren’t in the navy,” the boy said. “They helped evacuate Komor Bay. At least they tried to.”
“So they drowned saving our soldiers?”
“No, they were captured but there were too many grown-ups to sell. I fetched a good price, but Mom and Dad were surplus—that’s the word they used—and so instead of turning loose Narnians during wartime they beheaded everyone they couldn't sell.”
“You hate Calormenes, don’t you…”
He shrugged. “No. I don’t even hate the Captain. Just the dirty jackal’s draw that killed my Mom and Dad.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ve never killed anyone, but I think I could kill the Kes.”
Joseph’s eyes narrowed. “I know I could.”
[CONTINUED]
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Chapter 20: HALLOWED GROUND
The friends had reached the other side of the river, the main battlefield where Araksham was conquered by Colonel Cutshaw’s 16th Regiment, the Black Diamonds.
Evidence of the epic struggle was everywhere. Most evident was a large shield. The wind had blown sand across it until almost all the paint had been blasted off, but they could still make out the outline of a red lion.
Trundle started to lift it up, but underneath it, partly emerged from the sand, was the skull and forearm of an otter. Silently he lowered it back over the remains.
“Take nothing from those who lost everything but their honor,” Joseph said. “This is a grave. On this plain a thousand otters saw the sunrise. A thousand brave young lads with breastplates gleaming set out to cross this river. Three hundred and twenty saw the sunset...”
“What a terrible waste.”
“Aye, Trundle.”
“Why are there wars?”
Joseph slipped his arm about the badger’s shoulder and gave it a little pat. “Because Aslan gave us our freedom, and only he has the right to take it away.”
They heard the sound of distant thunder. Clouds were forming overhead and Trundle wondered if there would be rain soon. The conditions did not seem right. He had long ago learned the mariners’ rhyme “Red skies at night, sailor’s delight! Red skies in morning, sailor take warning!” It was not like that…not at all.
The wind picked up out of the west and it was fetid. Despite this there was no hint of the smell of rain, something Joseph was very sensitive to.
Trundle didn’t mind the darkness so much because he was a badger, but he did suffer from an odd itching sensation right between his shoulders that he couldn’t quite reach. Orlando, a creature of blue skies and green grass, pulled his cloak about his shoulders as if the wind were cold, though it was not.
The boy looked about. “Sir Joseph, I know what you mean about leaving this place behind. I hate it.”
“Well we told you this would happen if you came with us,” the hare said, a bit irked. “I suppose you’ll be griping about the food next!”
“Garn,” Trundle said, glaring. “Don’t tell me you two are going at it again…” Even as the words escaped his lips, he thought it odd that he said “again” when he could never remember them ‘going at it” before. Perhaps it was that odd humming sound that seemed to hover right at the edge of being heard, as if it were very loud yet barely perceptible, more of a sensation than a noise. It seemed to aggravate the itch he felt.
They all felt odd sensations as if something grabbed at their ankles and tugged at their rucksacks as they passed.
Around them in the shifting sands were spear points, helmets, breastplates and occasional bones. Death was ever present and stared back at them, a grim reminder rather than a polished monument or a rousing patriotic speech or battle hymn. That was the death of youth’s flower spent, the death of broken dreams and families torn asunder.
In the wind, Trundle thought he could hear distant voices. “My family,” it hissed as clearly and sharply as you might hear a voice on the wireless. “They were sold for their debts. They are slaves because of you. I was only trying to feed my family and you killed me!”
“I wish you’d stop doing that!” the badger said at last. “It’s not funny! Not a bit!”
“Stop doing what?” Joseph snapped. “You always think people are doing things to you, you big baby! Why don’t you grow up and stop imagining things?”
“Surely you don’t mean that?” Trundle said, rather hurt.
The hare paused for a moment, as if wondering why he said it. A feminine voice whispered back to him from the wind.
“Of course you hurt him. You don’t care who you hurt. Why did you leave me here? I thought you loved me, but all you cared about was your castle and your prized roses! You don’t love anyone or anything but yourself!”
“Fiona! That’s not true! I do love you! I’m coming for you, darling! I’m coming for you!”
Orlando looked about. “Sir Joseph, what’s wrong with you?”
“What do you mean? Didn’t you hear her?”
Orlando looked about apprehensively. He did hear something, but it wasn’t Fiona. The wind whispered to him. “They don’t love you. They never loved you. They have used you because you know something that can help them. Just like everyone else they just want something you have, and the moment they get it you will be forgotten. Don’t you wish you’d stayed on the ship where you belong?”
“I’d rather be dead than go back there!”
Trundle staggered about. “I didn’t mean to kill him! I swear! I was frightened!”
Joseph put his paws to his ears. “Help me!” he shrieked. “Somebody help me!”
He heard a deep lion voice. “You dare beg me for help, you doubter! You didn’t believe in me! If you had faith I would have helped you! I would have saved you if you had only believed! Now it is too late, you fool and hypocrite! I turn my back upon you!”
“It’s not so!” Joseph shrieked. “You’re not him! He wouldn’t talk that way!”
“Sir Joseph!” Orlando cried, “Don’t leave me! Slay me now, but don’t leave me!”
The hare fell to the ground and put his paws over his face. “Aslan!! Aslan, help us!!”
The friends had reached the other side of the river, the main battlefield where Araksham was conquered by Colonel Cutshaw’s 16th Regiment, the Black Diamonds.
Evidence of the epic struggle was everywhere. Most evident was a large shield. The wind had blown sand across it until almost all the paint had been blasted off, but they could still make out the outline of a red lion.
Trundle started to lift it up, but underneath it, partly emerged from the sand, was the skull and forearm of an otter. Silently he lowered it back over the remains.
“Take nothing from those who lost everything but their honor,” Joseph said. “This is a grave. On this plain a thousand otters saw the sunrise. A thousand brave young lads with breastplates gleaming set out to cross this river. Three hundred and twenty saw the sunset...”
“What a terrible waste.”
“Aye, Trundle.”
“Why are there wars?”
Joseph slipped his arm about the badger’s shoulder and gave it a little pat. “Because Aslan gave us our freedom, and only he has the right to take it away.”
***
They heard the sound of distant thunder. Clouds were forming overhead and Trundle wondered if there would be rain soon. The conditions did not seem right. He had long ago learned the mariners’ rhyme “Red skies at night, sailor’s delight! Red skies in morning, sailor take warning!” It was not like that…not at all.
The wind picked up out of the west and it was fetid. Despite this there was no hint of the smell of rain, something Joseph was very sensitive to.
Trundle didn’t mind the darkness so much because he was a badger, but he did suffer from an odd itching sensation right between his shoulders that he couldn’t quite reach. Orlando, a creature of blue skies and green grass, pulled his cloak about his shoulders as if the wind were cold, though it was not.
The boy looked about. “Sir Joseph, I know what you mean about leaving this place behind. I hate it.”
“Well we told you this would happen if you came with us,” the hare said, a bit irked. “I suppose you’ll be griping about the food next!”
“Garn,” Trundle said, glaring. “Don’t tell me you two are going at it again…” Even as the words escaped his lips, he thought it odd that he said “again” when he could never remember them ‘going at it” before. Perhaps it was that odd humming sound that seemed to hover right at the edge of being heard, as if it were very loud yet barely perceptible, more of a sensation than a noise. It seemed to aggravate the itch he felt.
They all felt odd sensations as if something grabbed at their ankles and tugged at their rucksacks as they passed.
Around them in the shifting sands were spear points, helmets, breastplates and occasional bones. Death was ever present and stared back at them, a grim reminder rather than a polished monument or a rousing patriotic speech or battle hymn. That was the death of youth’s flower spent, the death of broken dreams and families torn asunder.
In the wind, Trundle thought he could hear distant voices. “My family,” it hissed as clearly and sharply as you might hear a voice on the wireless. “They were sold for their debts. They are slaves because of you. I was only trying to feed my family and you killed me!”
“I wish you’d stop doing that!” the badger said at last. “It’s not funny! Not a bit!”
“Stop doing what?” Joseph snapped. “You always think people are doing things to you, you big baby! Why don’t you grow up and stop imagining things?”
“Surely you don’t mean that?” Trundle said, rather hurt.
The hare paused for a moment, as if wondering why he said it. A feminine voice whispered back to him from the wind.
“Of course you hurt him. You don’t care who you hurt. Why did you leave me here? I thought you loved me, but all you cared about was your castle and your prized roses! You don’t love anyone or anything but yourself!”
“Fiona! That’s not true! I do love you! I’m coming for you, darling! I’m coming for you!”
Orlando looked about. “Sir Joseph, what’s wrong with you?”
“What do you mean? Didn’t you hear her?”
Orlando looked about apprehensively. He did hear something, but it wasn’t Fiona. The wind whispered to him. “They don’t love you. They never loved you. They have used you because you know something that can help them. Just like everyone else they just want something you have, and the moment they get it you will be forgotten. Don’t you wish you’d stayed on the ship where you belong?”
“I’d rather be dead than go back there!”
Trundle staggered about. “I didn’t mean to kill him! I swear! I was frightened!”
Joseph put his paws to his ears. “Help me!” he shrieked. “Somebody help me!”
He heard a deep lion voice. “You dare beg me for help, you doubter! You didn’t believe in me! If you had faith I would have helped you! I would have saved you if you had only believed! Now it is too late, you fool and hypocrite! I turn my back upon you!”
“It’s not so!” Joseph shrieked. “You’re not him! He wouldn’t talk that way!”
“Sir Joseph!” Orlando cried, “Don’t leave me! Slay me now, but don’t leave me!”
The hare fell to the ground and put his paws over his face. “Aslan!! Aslan, help us!!”
***
[CONTINUED]
At the mention of the Great Lion’s name there was a distant sigh, a gasp and a moment of deadly silence. The fingers tugging unseen at them grudgingly let loose and the iron gray clouds were split by a golden shaft of sunlight. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted from the earth.
The oppression stopped like a bad dream and started to fade from memory just as quickly. Sobbing, Orlando ran to the hare and hugged him, kissing his sad face and stroking him. Joseph put his arms around the boy and held on as if he’d never let go.
Trundle came over, head bowed. “Sir Joseph, I’m sorry I made you upset. Please give me another chance and I’ll try to do better. I was afraid, but I won’t be next time…”
“Another chance??” the hare asked, holding out an arm. “Afraid?? Come here, you fond mook!”
The badger settled into the embrace and wept with relief and joy. And as they stood heart to heart, the east wind cleared the last remnants of evil sendings from the field.
Joseph’s sensitive ears twitched. “That way!”
“What’s ‘that way’?” Orlando asked.
“Bells. I think it must be a shepherd.” He sniffed a bit and his nose wrinkled. “Make that a goat herder. I hope we’re not in for more trouble.”
“If he wants trouble,” Trundle said, “he’s come to the right place!” The badger tried to draw his dagger for emphasis, but forgot to unbuckle the scabbard first.
When they found him, Hamar the Goatherd only had about half his teeth, but he had an endearing smile. Unlike the other Calormenes, he was kind to them though they were Narnian.
In exchange for the latest gossip from the coast, he gave them cheese and barley loaves.
In gratitude, Sir Joseph took Hamar’s hand in both his paws and bowed to touch his forehead to it. “Mr. Hamar, may your name be written in the Book.”
“Major Hamar,” he said, straightening and saluting. “Of the Tisroc’s elite Markaans.”
Joseph’s ears slumped back. “You were a Markaan?”
“Yes. An elite soldier who faced elite Narnian soldiers in combat on this very spot.”
“So why do you live here? Why didn’t you take your pension and build a nice cottage by a brook and forget?”
“Because I couldn’t forget.” He sighed. “I live here where I can leave offerings for the dead of both sides, the Narnians I killed and the Calormenes I led to certain death. I know the truth, and it’s a truth that must never be forgotten.”
“You are a rare desert flower,” Joseph said. “If you could, would you undo one of those broken dreams?”
“Of course, my long-eared friend.”
“Do you know of a trader named Agra Rashaam?”
“Yes. He was just here a week ago and was headed to Gorbayyam. If you hurry I’m sure you can still catch him.”
Joseph took his hand and touched it to his forehead again. “Blessed be the bringer of good tidings!”
[CONCLUSION TOMORROW!]
The oppression stopped like a bad dream and started to fade from memory just as quickly. Sobbing, Orlando ran to the hare and hugged him, kissing his sad face and stroking him. Joseph put his arms around the boy and held on as if he’d never let go.
Trundle came over, head bowed. “Sir Joseph, I’m sorry I made you upset. Please give me another chance and I’ll try to do better. I was afraid, but I won’t be next time…”
“Another chance??” the hare asked, holding out an arm. “Afraid?? Come here, you fond mook!”
The badger settled into the embrace and wept with relief and joy. And as they stood heart to heart, the east wind cleared the last remnants of evil sendings from the field.
***
Joseph’s sensitive ears twitched. “That way!”
“What’s ‘that way’?” Orlando asked.
“Bells. I think it must be a shepherd.” He sniffed a bit and his nose wrinkled. “Make that a goat herder. I hope we’re not in for more trouble.”
“If he wants trouble,” Trundle said, “he’s come to the right place!” The badger tried to draw his dagger for emphasis, but forgot to unbuckle the scabbard first.
When they found him, Hamar the Goatherd only had about half his teeth, but he had an endearing smile. Unlike the other Calormenes, he was kind to them though they were Narnian.
In exchange for the latest gossip from the coast, he gave them cheese and barley loaves.
In gratitude, Sir Joseph took Hamar’s hand in both his paws and bowed to touch his forehead to it. “Mr. Hamar, may your name be written in the Book.”
“Major Hamar,” he said, straightening and saluting. “Of the Tisroc’s elite Markaans.”
Joseph’s ears slumped back. “You were a Markaan?”
“Yes. An elite soldier who faced elite Narnian soldiers in combat on this very spot.”
“So why do you live here? Why didn’t you take your pension and build a nice cottage by a brook and forget?”
“Because I couldn’t forget.” He sighed. “I live here where I can leave offerings for the dead of both sides, the Narnians I killed and the Calormenes I led to certain death. I know the truth, and it’s a truth that must never be forgotten.”
“You are a rare desert flower,” Joseph said. “If you could, would you undo one of those broken dreams?”
“Of course, my long-eared friend.”
“Do you know of a trader named Agra Rashaam?”
“Yes. He was just here a week ago and was headed to Gorbayyam. If you hurry I’m sure you can still catch him.”
Joseph took his hand and touched it to his forehead again. “Blessed be the bringer of good tidings!”
[CONCLUSION TOMORROW!]
Chapter 21: THE CARAVAN
GORBAYYAM WAS A MERE DOT ON THE map of Calormen in more ways than one, and yet the very air there trembled with dreams and possibilities.
The small town was what it called rather busy that day with farmers and herders from the surrounding countryside coming in to see the only excitement for miles around.
Joseph went among the camels and horses, glanced in the wagons and even rashly peeked in windows and tent flaps.
“Looking for something?” a road seasoned voice boomed.
The hare looked about, flustered. “Are you Agra Rashaam the trader?”
“Aye! Just as I have been for many years!” The portly gentleman laughed and tugged at one end of his handlebar moustache. “I have wares from Tashbaan and places far beyond. You approached from the south. You are not from Willoughby, I assume?”
“You’re the second person that’s asked me that,” Sir Joseph said. “I am from Narnia and have come a great distance to see you, even crossing the Great Desert.”
“Not to buy pots and pans I daresay?”
“No. But I shall make this talk worth your time. That and I want to buy a sword for my badger friend, dried dates and spiced wine.”
“First the sword,” Agra said, motioning to one of his assistants. In a few moments he returned with a splendid scabbard from which emerged a brass and silver pommel.
Trundle took it in his trembling paws and for a moment looked like he was going to open it.
“Not here,” Joseph said. “It’s considered a challenge to a duel.”
“You should listen to your friend,” Agra said, “especially when you’re in the market for weapons…and who knows what else.” He motioned to the three friends. “Come into my tent and let us speak alone.
Joseph took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’ve spent most of my money trying to find you. I have a bit left and it is yours if you will give me something I desire more than life itself.”
“You wouldn’t be speaking of Fiona, would you?”
Joseph swallowed. He could hardly speak. “She still lives?”
“Ah yes. What a fine girl she was, the only one that knew how to make tea the way I like it. And, as I suppose you know, quite a handsome lass.”
“Yes, very.” The hare tried to control the tremor in his paws to keep the price from going up beyond his ability to pay.
“I would be willing to sell her to you but I can’t. She once asked me if I would let her buy her freedom. And I said, in a bit of a joke, that I swore a girl like that wouldn’t go for less than two thousand darims. I swore an oath that two thousand darims was the price, thinking that would settle the question once and for all. She was, I suspect, both flattered and disappointed. After all I only paid 600 darims for her.” He laughed. And yet we went through Willoughby and she brought me a bag of gold coins! I thought at first she had to steal it, but no one was missing a single crescent. Well, as they say, an oath is an oath… Anyhow, I thought her first act as a freedman would be to curse me. It’s almost a tradition, this final parting swipe. But no, she asked me to come by next time I was in Willoughby and she would fix me a decent cup of tea.”
“That’s my Fiona, a true lady.” Sir Joseph put a trembling paw into his purse and pulled out four silver coins. “Please, sir, tell me where to find this Willoughby.”
“Bribing me, long ears? Anyone could tell you how to find Willoughby for free.”
“Consider it a gift.”
“May the gate be opened for you!” the trader said, smiling broadly and accepting the coins with a gracious hand gesture. “You have excellent manners, just like your lady friend.” He took them outside and pointed. “It is on your map, but by law it is called Kharmangh. Willoughby is a word offensive to the government’s ears. Look at that road. Follow it about that hill and you’ll find your desire.”
[CONTINUED]
GORBAYYAM WAS A MERE DOT ON THE map of Calormen in more ways than one, and yet the very air there trembled with dreams and possibilities.
The small town was what it called rather busy that day with farmers and herders from the surrounding countryside coming in to see the only excitement for miles around.
Joseph went among the camels and horses, glanced in the wagons and even rashly peeked in windows and tent flaps.
“Looking for something?” a road seasoned voice boomed.
The hare looked about, flustered. “Are you Agra Rashaam the trader?”
“Aye! Just as I have been for many years!” The portly gentleman laughed and tugged at one end of his handlebar moustache. “I have wares from Tashbaan and places far beyond. You approached from the south. You are not from Willoughby, I assume?”
“You’re the second person that’s asked me that,” Sir Joseph said. “I am from Narnia and have come a great distance to see you, even crossing the Great Desert.”
“Not to buy pots and pans I daresay?”
“No. But I shall make this talk worth your time. That and I want to buy a sword for my badger friend, dried dates and spiced wine.”
“First the sword,” Agra said, motioning to one of his assistants. In a few moments he returned with a splendid scabbard from which emerged a brass and silver pommel.
Trundle took it in his trembling paws and for a moment looked like he was going to open it.
“Not here,” Joseph said. “It’s considered a challenge to a duel.”
“You should listen to your friend,” Agra said, “especially when you’re in the market for weapons…and who knows what else.” He motioned to the three friends. “Come into my tent and let us speak alone.
***
Joseph took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’ve spent most of my money trying to find you. I have a bit left and it is yours if you will give me something I desire more than life itself.”
“You wouldn’t be speaking of Fiona, would you?”
Joseph swallowed. He could hardly speak. “She still lives?”
“Ah yes. What a fine girl she was, the only one that knew how to make tea the way I like it. And, as I suppose you know, quite a handsome lass.”
“Yes, very.” The hare tried to control the tremor in his paws to keep the price from going up beyond his ability to pay.
“I would be willing to sell her to you but I can’t. She once asked me if I would let her buy her freedom. And I said, in a bit of a joke, that I swore a girl like that wouldn’t go for less than two thousand darims. I swore an oath that two thousand darims was the price, thinking that would settle the question once and for all. She was, I suspect, both flattered and disappointed. After all I only paid 600 darims for her.” He laughed. And yet we went through Willoughby and she brought me a bag of gold coins! I thought at first she had to steal it, but no one was missing a single crescent. Well, as they say, an oath is an oath… Anyhow, I thought her first act as a freedman would be to curse me. It’s almost a tradition, this final parting swipe. But no, she asked me to come by next time I was in Willoughby and she would fix me a decent cup of tea.”
“That’s my Fiona, a true lady.” Sir Joseph put a trembling paw into his purse and pulled out four silver coins. “Please, sir, tell me where to find this Willoughby.”
“Bribing me, long ears? Anyone could tell you how to find Willoughby for free.”
“Consider it a gift.”
“May the gate be opened for you!” the trader said, smiling broadly and accepting the coins with a gracious hand gesture. “You have excellent manners, just like your lady friend.” He took them outside and pointed. “It is on your map, but by law it is called Kharmangh. Willoughby is a word offensive to the government’s ears. Look at that road. Follow it about that hill and you’ll find your desire.”
[CONTINUED]
Chapter 22: WILLOUGHBY
Willoughby was but a short walk away from Gorbayyam, but it seemed to be taking them an eternity to get there.
“I wonder why she didn’t come home,” Joseph asked.
“Maybe it took every last crescent she had to get her freedom,” Trundle said.
“No doubt. Mr. Rashaam was rather fond of her tea. But I shall buy her a first class ticket home.”
“I thought you were about out of funds,” the badger said.
“No doubt so did Agra.”
“Oh….” Trundle shook his head. In far-off Narnia a shake of paws and a solemn word was as good as a signed contract, and he rather liked the straightforward, honest life he led in Cair Paravel.
Willoughby was basically an exclave of Narnia, a fancy way of saying “a bit of home”. It was a place where talking animals had some self-government and minimal interference—and prejudice—from the Calormenes.
Though the standard of living was generally poor, the houses and cobblestone streets were a welcome sight. The only things really missing were the trees and grass and, of course, the lion banners.
Trundle would have given his whiskers for the blessed sight of Aslan’s flag flying from the towers of the castle. Never had he felt so far away from the things he knew and loved.
They happened upon a dog fox whitewashing his shutters. He glanced up, looked a bit surprised. “Are you from home?”
Joseph said, “We’re from Narnia, actually.”
“That’s what I mean,” he said with a sigh of heartfelt longing. “I’m Copperfox. I was born here but I was raised Narnian. Tell me truly, is it as beautiful as they said it was?”
“More beautiful,” Trundle said.
“This place is not so bad. Not now anyway. You should have been here during the war. We had a nice home in Tashbaan and plenty of money before the war came. Then they rounded us up and put us here where they could keep an eye on us. It ruined us.”
“Are you free to come and go?”
“In the legal sense, yes. But most of us don’t. We keep to ourselves and settle our problems locally. The less interference from the outside, the better.”
“You ought to come back with us to Narnia. I suppose you’d be able to get citizenship without much trouble.”
“Citizenship? Do you think any of us are citizens of this place? Nothing ties me to this place and I’d give everything I had to go there.”
The hare said, “Aslan helps those who help others. Show us the home of Fiona the Hare and perhaps you will get to see the sun rise from Cair Paravel.”
“Fiona the Hare… Oh yes, the nice lady. You need to find the next to last house on this street on your left.”
[CONTINUED]
Willoughby was but a short walk away from Gorbayyam, but it seemed to be taking them an eternity to get there.
“I wonder why she didn’t come home,” Joseph asked.
“Maybe it took every last crescent she had to get her freedom,” Trundle said.
“No doubt. Mr. Rashaam was rather fond of her tea. But I shall buy her a first class ticket home.”
“I thought you were about out of funds,” the badger said.
“No doubt so did Agra.”
“Oh….” Trundle shook his head. In far-off Narnia a shake of paws and a solemn word was as good as a signed contract, and he rather liked the straightforward, honest life he led in Cair Paravel.
***
Willoughby was basically an exclave of Narnia, a fancy way of saying “a bit of home”. It was a place where talking animals had some self-government and minimal interference—and prejudice—from the Calormenes.
Though the standard of living was generally poor, the houses and cobblestone streets were a welcome sight. The only things really missing were the trees and grass and, of course, the lion banners.
Trundle would have given his whiskers for the blessed sight of Aslan’s flag flying from the towers of the castle. Never had he felt so far away from the things he knew and loved.
They happened upon a dog fox whitewashing his shutters. He glanced up, looked a bit surprised. “Are you from home?”
Joseph said, “We’re from Narnia, actually.”
“That’s what I mean,” he said with a sigh of heartfelt longing. “I’m Copperfox. I was born here but I was raised Narnian. Tell me truly, is it as beautiful as they said it was?”
“More beautiful,” Trundle said.
“This place is not so bad. Not now anyway. You should have been here during the war. We had a nice home in Tashbaan and plenty of money before the war came. Then they rounded us up and put us here where they could keep an eye on us. It ruined us.”
“Are you free to come and go?”
“In the legal sense, yes. But most of us don’t. We keep to ourselves and settle our problems locally. The less interference from the outside, the better.”
“You ought to come back with us to Narnia. I suppose you’d be able to get citizenship without much trouble.”
“Citizenship? Do you think any of us are citizens of this place? Nothing ties me to this place and I’d give everything I had to go there.”
The hare said, “Aslan helps those who help others. Show us the home of Fiona the Hare and perhaps you will get to see the sun rise from Cair Paravel.”
“Fiona the Hare… Oh yes, the nice lady. You need to find the next to last house on this street on your left.”
***
[CONTINUED]
Joseph was in an odd state of nervous agitation, and very thoughtfully Trundle put his arm around his shoulder on one side to steady him while Orlando held his paw on the opposite side to give him courage.
The hare almost missed her lodging because her “house” was actually a tent. It was a very nice tent, much better than the ones in camp, but not the sort of place to spend the rest of one’s life.
“This is Joseph. Sir Joseph. May I come in?”
“Yes, please.” It was not a doe’s voice.
The inside of the tent had a few nice furnishings that looked like they belonged in a real house. “We are honored by your hospitality.”
“I am Elwin. The honor is all mine.”
Joseph took a deep breath, held it a moment, and let it out slowly. “Elwin, I am from Narnia. I came looking for Fiona.”
“Are you family?” he asked. “I’m not surprised. A knight. Her first husband was a knight.”
“Her first husband?? Are we talking about Lady Fiona from Cair Paravel?”
The hare nodded. “Her first husband died, you know. The Calormenes slit his throat for spitting in the captain’s eye.” His eyes narrowed. “The dirty barbarian tooks!”
“Oh, but sir…” Trundle started, but Joseph grasped him by the arm…tightly. He fell silent.
“Did she ever tell you anything else…about her past?”
“In words, no. For the first year, I would often see her outside looking at the moon. In those times I knew she was with him. She was good to me by day, but I let her have her nights. Some things should never be stripped away.”
Trundle looked from one buck to the other, his nerves making his paws clench and unclench repeatedly. “Did you know Agra Rashaam?”
“We all know him. He’s our only link with home.” Elwin sighed. “When he came to town and I caught sight of her, and knew at once I had to something to get her out of that situation.”
“Yes,” Joseph said, “her beauty does not belong among such ugliness.”
“It wasn’t her beauty. At least not the beauty she had on the outside. It was only later that I realized she was quite a handsome doe.”
“And you paid her ransom.”
“It cost me my house, my barn and my field to buy respect for her freedom. You see, it is Aslan who makes us free. I only helped him get a little respect.”
Joseph was stunned. “You sold everything you had to buy a wife? And you only knew her one day?”
“Those papers were my gift to her. Marriage was her gift to me. Maybe it was out of love, and maybe it was simple pity. I suspect it was both. When we married, I promised her a real home someday, and she promised me a son. She kept her end of the bargain, but as you can see I failed to make good on mine. I am a failure.”
“You are the most successful person I’ve ever known.” Joseph then asked in a trembling voice, “May I see her now?”
“Of course. She’s in the back yard.”
[CONTINUED]
The hare almost missed her lodging because her “house” was actually a tent. It was a very nice tent, much better than the ones in camp, but not the sort of place to spend the rest of one’s life.
“This is Joseph. Sir Joseph. May I come in?”
“Yes, please.” It was not a doe’s voice.
The inside of the tent had a few nice furnishings that looked like they belonged in a real house. “We are honored by your hospitality.”
“I am Elwin. The honor is all mine.”
Joseph took a deep breath, held it a moment, and let it out slowly. “Elwin, I am from Narnia. I came looking for Fiona.”
“Are you family?” he asked. “I’m not surprised. A knight. Her first husband was a knight.”
“Her first husband?? Are we talking about Lady Fiona from Cair Paravel?”
The hare nodded. “Her first husband died, you know. The Calormenes slit his throat for spitting in the captain’s eye.” His eyes narrowed. “The dirty barbarian tooks!”
“Oh, but sir…” Trundle started, but Joseph grasped him by the arm…tightly. He fell silent.
“Did she ever tell you anything else…about her past?”
“In words, no. For the first year, I would often see her outside looking at the moon. In those times I knew she was with him. She was good to me by day, but I let her have her nights. Some things should never be stripped away.”
Trundle looked from one buck to the other, his nerves making his paws clench and unclench repeatedly. “Did you know Agra Rashaam?”
“We all know him. He’s our only link with home.” Elwin sighed. “When he came to town and I caught sight of her, and knew at once I had to something to get her out of that situation.”
“Yes,” Joseph said, “her beauty does not belong among such ugliness.”
“It wasn’t her beauty. At least not the beauty she had on the outside. It was only later that I realized she was quite a handsome doe.”
“And you paid her ransom.”
“It cost me my house, my barn and my field to buy respect for her freedom. You see, it is Aslan who makes us free. I only helped him get a little respect.”
Joseph was stunned. “You sold everything you had to buy a wife? And you only knew her one day?”
“Those papers were my gift to her. Marriage was her gift to me. Maybe it was out of love, and maybe it was simple pity. I suspect it was both. When we married, I promised her a real home someday, and she promised me a son. She kept her end of the bargain, but as you can see I failed to make good on mine. I am a failure.”
“You are the most successful person I’ve ever known.” Joseph then asked in a trembling voice, “May I see her now?”
“Of course. She’s in the back yard.”
***
[CONTINUED]
They went through a flap in the back of the tent into what was kindly called the back yard. It was sand, sage, a few withered sprigs of thick-leaved grass. By stark contrast, one back corner of the lot had a lovingly tended plot of flowers, grass and a stone marker.
“Where is she??” Joseph stammered. “Oh sweet, precious Aslan! Where is she??”
Elwin pointed at the marker. “I’m sorry. It was the flu. It happened about a month ago.”
Joseph glanced about at each of them in turn, wide eyed, mouth open. His trembling paws rose, knotted into tight fists and his breath came in short, painful gasps.
As Sir Joseph staggered toward Fiona’s grave, Trundle put a paw on Elwin’s shoulder and turned him about. “For the love of heaven, leave him alone! Please, just go!”
From behind him the badger heard a loud wail, a shrieking moan that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He turned to see Sir Joseph of Brockhurst, Knight of Narnia, collapse across Fiona’s grave.
“Mister Trundle!” shouted Orlando, “Come quick!”
The badger hurried over. Orlando helped him turn the hare on his back, and while the boy caressed Joseph’s face with his fingertips and kissed his brow, Trundle briskly rubbed and slapped an arm.
“Sir Joseph!” the badger said, “Wake up! Speak to me!”
For a very long time the hare lay still. Then his eyes opened and after an unfocused moment they turned to lock glances with the carpenter.
The badger asked, “Do you know who I am?”
“Trundle…my friend.” His eyes shifted to Orlando, and he reached up with a paw to wipe away the boy’s tears. “You’re crying. My precious boy, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m not scared,” Orlando said. “I only wish we’d found her.”
“We did,” Joseph said. “She’s with Aslan in the Utter East, waiting for me.” His eyes closed again as he breathed a deep sigh of resignation.
[CONTINUED]
“Where is she??” Joseph stammered. “Oh sweet, precious Aslan! Where is she??”
Elwin pointed at the marker. “I’m sorry. It was the flu. It happened about a month ago.”
Joseph glanced about at each of them in turn, wide eyed, mouth open. His trembling paws rose, knotted into tight fists and his breath came in short, painful gasps.
As Sir Joseph staggered toward Fiona’s grave, Trundle put a paw on Elwin’s shoulder and turned him about. “For the love of heaven, leave him alone! Please, just go!”
From behind him the badger heard a loud wail, a shrieking moan that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He turned to see Sir Joseph of Brockhurst, Knight of Narnia, collapse across Fiona’s grave.
“Mister Trundle!” shouted Orlando, “Come quick!”
The badger hurried over. Orlando helped him turn the hare on his back, and while the boy caressed Joseph’s face with his fingertips and kissed his brow, Trundle briskly rubbed and slapped an arm.
“Sir Joseph!” the badger said, “Wake up! Speak to me!”
***
For a very long time the hare lay still. Then his eyes opened and after an unfocused moment they turned to lock glances with the carpenter.
The badger asked, “Do you know who I am?”
“Trundle…my friend.” His eyes shifted to Orlando, and he reached up with a paw to wipe away the boy’s tears. “You’re crying. My precious boy, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m not scared,” Orlando said. “I only wish we’d found her.”
“We did,” Joseph said. “She’s with Aslan in the Utter East, waiting for me.” His eyes closed again as he breathed a deep sigh of resignation.
[CONTINUED]