THE LION,
THE WITCH AND THE WARDROBE
BY
C.S.LEWIS
CHAPTER ONE - LUCY LOOKS INTO A WARDROBE
CHAPTER TWO - WHAT LUCY FOUND THERE
CHAPTER THREE - EDMUND AND THE WARDROBE
CHAPTER FOUR - TURKISH DELIGHT
CHAPTER FIVE - BACK ON THIS SIDE OF THE DOOR
CHAPTER SEVEN - A DAY WITH THE BEAVERS
CHAPTER EIGHT - WHAT HAPPENED AFTER DINNER
CHAPTER NINE - IN THE WITCH'S HOUSE
CHAPTER TEN - THE SPELL BEGINS TO BREAK
CHAPTER ELEVEN - ASLAN IS NEARER
CHAPTER TWELVE - PETER'S FIRST BATTLE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - DEEP MAGIC FROM THE DAWN OF TIME
CHAPTER FOURTEEN - THE TRIUMPH OF THE WITCH
CHAPTER FIFTEEN - DEEPER MAGIC FROM BEFORE THE DAWN OF
TIME
CHAPTER SIXTEEN - WHAT HAPPENED ABOUT THE STATUES
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - THE HUNTING OF THE WHITE STAG
ONCE there were four children whose
names were Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy. This story is about something that
happened to them when they were sent away from London during the war because of
the air-raids. They were sent to the house of an old Professor who lived in the
heart of the country, ten miles from the nearest railway station and two miles
from the nearest post office. He had no wife and he lived in a very large house
with a housekeeper called Mrs Macready and three servants. (Their names were
Ivy, Margaret and Betty, but they do not come into the story much.) He himself
was a very old man with shaggy white hair which grew over most of his face as
well as on his head, and they liked him almost at once; but on the first
evening when he came out to meet them at the front door he was so odd-looking
that Lucy (who was the youngest) was a little afraid of him, and Edmund (who
was the next youngest) wanted to laugh and had to keep on pretending he was
blowing his nose to hide it.
As soon as they had said good night to the Professor and gone
upstairs on the first night, the boys came into the girls' room and they all
talked it over.
"We've fallen on our feet and no mistake," said Peter.
"This is going to be perfectly splendid. That old chap will let us do
anything we like."
"I think he's an old
dear," said Susan.
"Oh, come off it!" said Edmund, who was tired and
pretending not to be tired, which always made him bad-tempered. "Don't go
on talking like that."
"Like what?" said Susan;
"and anyway, it's time you were in bed."
"Trying to talk like
Mother," said Edmund. "And who are you to say when I'm to go to bed?
Go to bed yourself."
"Hadn't we all better go to
bed?" said Lucy. "There's sure to be a row if we're heard talking
here."
"No there won't," said
Peter. "I tell you this is the sort of house where no one's going to mind what
we do. Anyway, they won't hear us. It's about ten minutes' walk from here down
to that dining-room, and any amount of stairs and passages in between."
"What's that noise?" said
Lucy suddenly. It was a far larger house than she had ever been in before and
the thought of all those long passages and rows of doors leading into empty
rooms was beginning to make her feel a little creepy.
"It's only a bird, silly," said Edmund.
"It's an owl," said Peter. "This is going to be a
wonderful place for birds. I shall go to bed now. I say, let's go and explore
tomorrow. You might find anything in a place like this. Did you see those
mountains as we came along? And the woods? There might be eagles. There might
be stags. There'll be hawks."
"Badgers!" said Lucy.
"Foxes!" said Edmund.
"Rabbits!" said Susan.
But when next morning came there was
a steady rain falling, so thick that when you looked out of the window you
could see neither the mountains nor the woods nor even the stream in the
garden.
"Of course it would be raining!" said Edmund. They had
just finished their breakfast with the Professor and were upstairs in the room
he had set apart for them - a long, low room with two windows looking out in
one direction and two in another.
"Do stop grumbling, Ed," said Susan. "Ten to one
it'll clear up in an hour or so. And in the meantime we're pretty well off.
There's a wireless and lots of books."
"Not for me” said Peter;
"I'm going to explore in the house."
Everyone agreed to this and that was
how the adventures began. It was the sort of house that you never seem to come
to the end of, and it was full of unexpected places. The first few doors they
tried led only into spare bedrooms, as everyone had expected that they would;
but soon they came to a very long room full of pictures and there they found a
suit of armour; and after that was a room all hung with green, with a harp in
one corner; and then came three steps down and five steps up, and then a kind
of little upstairs hall and a door that led out on to a balcony, and then a
whole series of rooms that led into each other and were lined with books - most
of them very old books and some bigger than a Bible in a church. And shortly
after that they looked into a room that was quite empty except for one big wardrobe;
the sort that has a looking-glass in the door. There was nothing else in the
room at all except a dead blue-bottle on the window-sill.
"Nothing there!" said
Peter, and they all trooped out again - all except Lucy. She stayed behind
because she thought it would be worth while trying the door of the wardrobe,
even though she felt almost sure that it would be locked. To her surprise it
opened quite easily, and two moth-balls dropped out.
Looking into the inside, she saw several coats hanging up - mostly
long fur coats. There was nothing Lucy liked so much as the smell and feel of
fur. She immediately stepped into the wardrobe and got in among the coats and
rubbed her face against them, leaving the door open, of course, because she
knew that it is very foolish to shut oneself into any wardrobe. Soon she went
further in and found that there was a second row of coats hanging up behind the
first one. It was almost quite dark in there and she kept her arms stretched
out in front of her so as not to bump her face into the back of the wardrobe.
She took a step further in - then two or three steps always expecting to feel
woodwork against the tips of her fingers. But she could not feel it.
"This must be a simply enormous wardrobe!" thought Lucy,
going still further in and pushing the soft folds of the coats aside to make
room for her. Then she noticed that there was something crunching under her
feet. "I wonder is that more mothballs?" she thought, stooping down
to feel it with her hand. But instead of feeling the hard, smooth wood of the
floor of the wardrobe, she felt something soft and powdery and extremely cold.
"This is very queer," she said, and went on a step or two further.
Next moment she found that what was rubbing against her face and hands
was no longer soft fur but something hard and rough and even prickly.
"Why, it is just like branches of trees!" exclaimed Lucy. And then
she saw that there was a light ahead of her; not a few inches away where the
back of the wardrobe ought to have been, but a long way off. Something cold and
soft was falling on her. A moment later she found that she was standing in the
middle of a wood at night-time with snow under her feet and snowflakes falling
through the air.
Lucy felt a little frightened, but she felt very inquisitive and
excited as well. She looked back over her shoulder and there, between the dark
tree trunks; she could still see the open doorway of the wardrobe and even
catch a glimpse of the empty room from which she had set out. (She had, of
course, left the door open, for she knew that it is a very silly thing to shut
oneself into a wardrobe.) It seemed to be still daylight there. "I can
always get back if anything goes wrong," thought Lucy. She began to walk
forward, crunch-crunch over the snow and through the wood towards the other
light. In about ten minutes she reached it and found it was a lamp-post. As she
stood looking at it, wondering why there was a lamp-post in the middle of a
wood and wondering what to do next, she heard a pitter patter of feet coming
towards her. And soon after that a very strange person stepped out from among
the trees into the light of the lamp-post.
He was only a little taller than Lucy herself and he carried over
his head an umbrella, white with snow. From the waist upwards he was like a
man, but his legs were shaped like a goat's (the hair on them was glossy black)
and instead of feet he had goat's hoofs. He also had a tail, but Lucy did not
notice this at first because it was neatly caught up over the arm that held the
umbrella so as to keep it from trailing in the snow. He had a red woollen
muffler round his neck and his skin was rather reddish too. He had a strange,
but pleasant little face, with a short pointed beard and curly hair, and out of
the hair there stuck two horns, one on each side of his forehead. One of his
hands, as I have said, held the umbrella: in the other arm he carried several
brown-paper parcels. What with the parcels and the snow it looked just as if he
had been doing his Christmas shopping. He was a Faun. And when he saw Lucy he
gave such a start of surprise that he dropped all his parcels.
"Goodness gracious me!" exclaimed the Faun.
"GOOD EVENING," said Lucy.
But the Faun was so busy picking up its parcels that at first it did not reply.
When it had finished it made her a little bow.
"Good evening, good evening," said the Faun.
"Excuse me - I don't want to be inquisitive - but should I be right in
thinking that you are a Daughter of Eve?"
"My name's Lucy," said
she, not quite understanding him.
"But you are - forgive me - you are what they call a
girl?" said the Faun.
"Of course I'm a girl," said Lucy.
"You are in fact Human?"
"Of course I'm human,"
said Lucy, still a little puzzled.
"To be sure, to be sure," said the Faun. "How
stupid of me! But I've never seen a Son of Adam or a Daughter of Eve before. I
am delighted. That is to say -" and then it stopped as if it had been
going to say something it had not intended but had remembered in time.
"Delighted, delighted," it went on. "Allow me to introduce
myself. My name is Tumnus."
"I am very pleased to meet you,
Mr Tumnus," said Lucy.
"And may I ask, O Lucy Daughter of Eve," said Mr Tumnus,
"how you have come into Narnia?"
"Narnia? What's that?"
said Lucy.
"This is the land of Narnia," said the Faun, "where
we are now; all that lies between the lamp-post and the great castle of Cair
Paravel on the eastern sea. And you - you have come from the wild woods of the
west?"
"I - I got in through the
wardrobe in the spare room," said Lucy.
"Ah!" said Mr Tumnus in a rather melancholy voice,
"if only I had worked harder at geography when I was a little Faun, I
should no doubt know all about those strange countries. It is too late now."
"But they aren't countries at
all," said Lucy, almost laughing. "It's only just back there - at
least - I'm not sure. It is summer there."
"Meanwhile," said Mr
Tumnus, "it is winter in Narnia, and has been for ever so long, and we
shall both catch cold if we stand here talking in the snow. Daughter of Eve
from the far land of Spare Oom where eternal summer reigns around the bright
city of War Drobe, how would it be if you came and had tea with me?"
"Thank you very much, Mr
Tumnus," said Lucy. "But I was wondering whether I ought to be
getting back."
"It's only just round the
corner," said the Faun, "and there'll be a roaring fire - and toast -
and sardines - and cake."
"Well, it's very kind of
you," said Lucy. "But I shan't be able to stay long."
"If you will take my arm,
Daughter of Eve," said Mr Tumnus, "I shall be able to hold the
umbrella over both of us. That's the way. Now - off we go."
And so Lucy found herself walking
through the wood arm in arm with this strange creature as if they had known one
another all their lives.
They had not gone far before they came to a place where the ground
became rough and there were rocks all about and little hills up and little
hills down. At the bottom of one small valley Mr Tumnus turned suddenly aside as
if he were going to walk straight into an unusually large rock, but at the last
moment Lucy found he was leading her into the entrance of a cave. As soon as
they were inside she found herself blinking in the light of a wood fire. Then
Mr Tumnus stooped and took a flaming piece of wood out of the fire with a neat
little pair of tongs, and lit a lamp. "Now we shan't be long," he
said, and immediately put a kettle on.
Lucy thought she had never been in a nicer place. It was a little,
dry, clean cave of reddish stone with a carpet on the floor and two little
chairs ("one for me and one for a friend," said Mr Tumnus) and a
table and a dresser and a mantelpiece over the fire and above that a picture of
an old Faun with a grey beard. In one corner there was a door which Lucy
thought must lead to Mr Tumnus's bedroom, and on one wall was a shelf full of
books. Lucy looked at these while he was setting out the tea things. They had
titles like The Life and Letters of Silenus or Nymphs and Their Ways or Men,
Monks and Gamekeepers; a Study in Popular Legend or Is Man a Myth?
"Now, Daughter of Eve!"
said the Faun.
And really it was a wonderful tea. There was a nice brown egg,
lightly boiled, for each of them, and then sardines on toast, and then buttered
toast, and then toast with honey, and then a sugar-topped cake. And when Lucy
was tired of eating the Faun began to talk. He had wonderful tales to tell of
life in the forest. He told about the midnight dances and how the Nymphs who
lived in the wells and the Dryads who lived in the trees came out to dance with
the Fauns; about long hunting parties after the milk-white stag who could give
you wishes if you caught him; about feasting and treasure-seeking with the wild
Red Dwarfs in deep mines and caverns far beneath the forest floor; and then
about summer when the woods were green and old Silenus on his fat donkey would
come to visit them, and sometimes Bacchus himself, and then the streams would
run with wine instead of water and the whole forest would give itself up to
jollification for weeks on end. "Not that it isn't always winter
now," he added gloomily. Then to cheer himself up he took out from its
case on the dresser a strange little flute that looked as if it were made of
straw and began to play. And the tune he played made Lucy want to cry and laugh
and dance and go to sleep all at the same time. It must have been hours later
when she shook herself and said:
"Oh, Mr Tumnus - I'm so sorry
to stop you, and I do love that tune - but really, I must go home. I only meant
to stay for a few minutes."
"It's no good now, you
know," said the Faun, laying down its flute and shaking its head at her
very sorrowfully.
"No good?" said Lucy, jumping up and feeling rather
frightened. "What do you mean? I've got to go home at once. The others
will be wondering what has happened to me." But a moment later she asked,
"Mr Tumnus! Whatever is the matter?" for the Faun's brown eyes had
filled with tears and then the tears began trickling down its cheeks, and soon
they were running off the end of its nose; and at last it covered its face with
its hands and began to howl.
"Mr Tumnus! Mr Tumnus!" said Lucy in great distress.
"Don't! Don't! What is the matter? Aren' you well? Dear Mr Tumnus, do tell
me what is wrong." But the Faun continued sobbing as if its heart would
break. And even when Lucy went over and put her arms round him and lent him her
hand kerchief, he did not stop. He merely took the handker chief and kept on
using it, wringing it out with both hands whenever it got too wet to be any
more use, so that presently Lucy was standing in a damp patch.
"Mr Tumnus!" bawled Lucy in his ear, shaking him.
"Do stop. Stop it at once! You ought to be ashamed of yourself, a great
big Faun like you. What on earth are you crying about?"
"Oh - oh - oh!" sobbed Mr
Tumnus, "I'm crying because I'm such a bad Faun."
"I don't think you're a bad
Faun at all," said Lucy. "I think you are a very good Faun. You are
the nicest Faun I've ever met."
"Oh - oh - you wouldn't say that
if you knew," replied Mr Tumnus between his sobs. "No, I'm a bad
Faun. I don't suppose there ever was a worse Faun since the beginning of the
world."
"But what have you done?"
asked Lucy.
"My old father, now," said Mr Tumnus; "that's his
picture over the mantelpiece. He would never have done a thing like this."
"A thing like what?" said
Lucy.
"Like what I've done," said the Faun. "Taken
service under the White Witch. That's what I am. I'm in the pay of the White
Witch."
"The White Witch? Who is she?"
"Why, it is she that has got
all Narnia under her thumb. It's she that makes it always winter. Always winter
and never Christmas; think of that!"
"How awful!" said Lucy.
"But what does she pay you for?"
"That's the worst of it,"
said Mr Tumnus with a deep groan. "I'm a kidnapper for her, that's what I
am. Look at me, Daughter of Eve. Would you believe that I'm the sort of Faun to
meet a poor innocent child in the wood, one that had never done me any harm,
and pretend to be friendly with it, and invite it home to my cave, all for the
sake of lulling it asleep and then handing it over to the White Witch?"
"No," said Lucy. "I'm
sure you wouldn't do anything of the sort."
"But I have," said the
Faun.
"Well," said Lucy rather slowly (for she wanted to be
truthful and yet not be too hard on him), "well, that was pretty bad. But
you're so sorry for it that I'm sure you will never do it again."
"Daughter of Eve, don't you
understand?" said the Faun. "It isn't something I have done. I'm
doing it now, this very moment."
"What do you mean?" cried
Lucy, turning very white.
"You are the child," said Tumnus. "I had orders
from the White Witch that if ever I saw a Son of Adam or a Daughter of Eve in
the wood, I was to catch them and hand them over to her. And you are the first
I've ever met. And I've pretended to be your friend an asked you to tea, and
all the time I've been meaning to wait till you were asleep and then go and
tell Her."
"Oh, but you won't, Mr
Tumnus," said Lucy. "Yo won't, will you? Indeed, indeed you really
mustn't."
"And if I don't," said he,
beginning to cry again "she's sure to find out. And she'll have my tail
cut off and my horns sawn off, and my beard plucked out, and she'll wave her
wand over my beautiful clove hoofs and turn them into horrid solid hoofs like
wretched horse's. And if she is extra and specially angry she'll turn me into
stone and I shall be only statue of a Faun in her horrible house until the four
thrones at Cair Paravel are filled and goodness knows when that will happen, or
whether it will ever happen at all."
"I'm very sorry, Mr
Tumnus," said Lucy. "But please let me go home."
"Of course I will," said
the Faun. "Of course I've got to. I see that now. I hadn't known what
Humans were like before I met you. Of course I can't give you up to the Witch;
not now that I know you. But we must be off at once. I'll see you back to the
lamp-post. I suppose you can find your own way from there back to Spare Oom and
War Drobe?"
"I'm sure I can," said
Lucy.
"We must go as quietly as we can," said Mr Tumnus.
"The whole wood is full of her spies. Even some of the trees are on her
side."
They both got up and left the tea
things on the table, and Mr Tumnus once more put up his umbrella and gave Lucy
his arm, and they went out into the snow. The journey back was not at all like
the journey to the Faun's cave; they stole along as quickly as they could,
without speaking a word, and Mr Tumnus kept to the darkest places. Lucy was
relieved when they reached the lamp-post again.
"Do you know your way from here, Daughter o Eve?" said
Tumnus.
Lucy looked very hard between the trees and could just see in the
distance a patch of light that looked like daylight. "Yes," she said,
"I can see the wardrobe door."
"Then be off home as quick as
you can," said the Faun, "and - c-can you ever forgive me for what
meant to do?"
"Why, of course I can,"
said Lucy, shaking him heartily by the hand. "And I do hope you won't get
into dreadful trouble on my account."
"Farewell, Daughter of
Eve," said he. "Perhaps I may keep the handkerchief?"
"Rather!" said Lucy, and
then ran towards the far off patch of daylight as quickly as her legs would
carry her. And presently instead of rough branch brushing past her she felt
coats, and instead of crunching snow under her feet she felt wooden board and
all at once she found herself jumping out of the wardrobe into the same empty
room from which the whole adventure had started. She shut the wardrobe door
tightly behind her and looked around, panting for breath. It was still raining
and she could hear the voices of the others in the passage.
"I'm here," she shouted. "I'm here. I've come back
I'm all right."
Lucy ran out of the empty room into
the passage and found the other three.
"It's all right," she repeated, "I've
comeback."
"What on earth are you talking
about, Lucy?" asked Susan.
"Why? said Lucy in amazement, "haven't you all been
wondering where I was?"
"So you've been hiding, have
you?" said Peter. "Poor old Lu, hiding and nobody noticed! You'll
have to hide longer than that if you want people to start looking for
you."
"But I've been away for hours
and hours," said Lucy.
The others all stared at one another.
"Batty!" said Edmund, tapping his head. "Quite
batty."
"What do you mean, Lu?"
asked Peter.
"What I said," answered Lucy. "It was just after
breakfast when I went into the wardrobe, and I've been away for hours and
hours, and had tea, and all sorts of things have happened."
"Don't be silly, Lucy,"
said Susan. "We've only just come out of that room a moment ago, and you
were there then."
"She's not being silly at
all," said Peter, "she's just making up a story for fun, aren't you,
Lu? And why shouldn't she?"
"No, Peter, I'm not," she
said. "It's - it's a magic wardrobe. There's a wood inside it, and it's
snowing, and there's a Faun and a Witch and it's called Narnia; come and
see."
The others did not know what to
think, but Lucy was so excited that they all went back with her into the room.
She rushed ahead of them, flung open the door of the wardrobe and cried,
"Now! go in and see for yourselves."
"Why, you goose," said
Susan, putting her head inside and pulling the fur coats apart, "it's just
an ordinary wardrobe; look! there's the back of it."
Then everyone looked in and pulled
the coats apart; and they all saw - Lucy herself saw - a perfectly ordinary
wardrobe. There was no wood and no snow, only the back of the wardrobe, with
hooks on it. Peter went in and rapped his knuckles on it to make sure that it
was solid.
"A jolly good hoax, Lu," he said as he came out again;
"you have really taken us in, I must admit. We half believed you."
"But it wasn't a hoax at
all," said Lucy, "really and truly. It was all different a moment
ago. Honestly it was. I promise."
"Come, Lu," said Peter,
"that's going a bit far. You've had your joke. Hadn't you better drop it
now?"
Lucy grew very red in the face and
tried to say something, though she hardly knew what she was trying to say, and
burst into tears.
For the next few days she was very miserable. She could have made
it up with the others quite easily at any moment if she could have brought
herself to say that the whole thing was only a story made up for fun. But Lucy
was a very truthful girl and she knew that she was really in the right; and she
could not bring herself to say this. The others who thought she was telling a
lie, and a silly lie too, made her very unhappy. The two elder ones did this
without meaning to do it, but Edmund could be spiteful, and on this occasion he
was spiteful. He sneered and jeered at Lucy and kept on asking her if she'd
found any other new countries in other cupboards all over the house. What made
it worse was that these days ought to have been delightful. The weather was
fine and they were out of doors from morning to night, bathing, fishing,
climbing trees, and lying in the heather. But Lucy could not properly enjoy any
of it. And so things went on until the next wet day.
That day, when it came to the afternoon and there was still no
sign of a break in the weather, they decided to play hide-and-seek. Susan was
"It" and as soon as the others scattered to hide, Lucy went to the
room where the wardrobe was. She did not mean to hide in the wardrobe, because
she knew that would only set the others talking again about the whole wretched
business. But she did want to have one more look inside it; for by this time
she was beginning to wonder herself whether Narnia and the Faun had not been a
dream. The house was so large and complicated and full of hiding-places that
she thought she would have time to have one look into the wardrobe and then
hide somewhere else. But as soon as she reached it she heard steps in the passage
outside, and then there was nothing for it but to jump into the wardrobe and
hold the door closed behind her. She did not shut it properly because she knew
that it is very silly to shut oneself into a wardrobe, even if it is not a
magic one.
Now the steps she had heard were those of Edmund; and he came into
the room just in time to see Lucy vanishing into the wardrobe. He at once
decided to get into it himself - not because he thought it a particularly good
place to hide but because he wanted to go on teasing her about her imaginary
country. He opened the door. There were the coats hanging up as usual, and a
smell of mothballs, and darkness and silence, and no sign of Lucy. "She
thinks I'm Susan come to catch her," said Edmund to himself, "and so
she's keeping very quiet in at the back." He jumped in and shut the door,
forgetting what a very foolish thing this is to do. Then he began feeling about
for Lucy in the dark. He had expected to find her in a few seconds and was very
surprised when he did not. He decided to open the door again and let in some
light. But he could not find the door either. He didn't like this at all and
began groping wildly in every direction; he even shouted out, "Lucy! Lu!
Where are you? I know you're here."
There was no answer and Edmund
noticed that his own voice had a curious sound - not the sound you expect in a
cupboard, but a kind of open-air sound. He also noticed that he was
unexpectedly cold; and then he saw a light.
"Thank goodness," said Edmund, "the door must have swung
open of its own accord." He forgot all about Lucy and went towards the
light, which he thought was the open door of the wardrobe. But instead of
finding himself stepping out into the spare room he found himself stepping out
from the shadow of some thick dark fir trees into an open place in the middle
of a wood.
There was crisp, dry snow under his feet and more snow lying on
the branches of the trees. Overhead there was pale blue sky, the sort of sky
one sees on a fine winter day in the morning. Straight ahead of him he saw
between the tree-trunks the sun, just rising, very red and clear. Everything
was perfectly still, as if he were the only living creature in that country.
There was not even a robin or a squirrel among the trees, and the wood stretched
as far as he could see in every direction. He shivered.
He now remembered that he had been looking for Lucy; and also how
unpleasant he had been to her about her "imaginary country" which now
turned out not to have been imaginary at all. He thought that she must be
somewhere quite close and so he shouted, "Lucy! Lucy! I'm here
too-Edmund."
There was no answer.
"She's angry about all the things I've been saying
lately," thought Edmund. And though he did not like to admit that he had
been wrong, he also did not much like being alone in this strange, cold, quiet
place; so he shouted again.
"I say, Lu! I'm sorry I didn't believe you. I see now you
were right all along. Do come out. Make it Pax."
Still there was no answer.
"Just like a girl," said Edmund to himself,
"sulking somewhere, and won't accept an apology." He looked round him
again and decided he did not much like this place, and had almost made up his
mind to go home, when he heard, very far off in the wood, a sound of bells. He
listened and the sound came nearer and nearer and at last there swept into
sight a sledge drawn by two reindeer.
The reindeer were about the size of Shetland ponies and their hair
was so white that even the snow hardly looked white compared with them; their
branching horns were gilded and shone like something on fire when the sunrise
caught them. Their harness was of scarlet leather and covered with bells. On
the sledge, driving the reindeer, sat a fat dwarf who would have been about
three feet high if he had been standing. He was dressed in polar bear's fur and
on his head he wore a red hood with a long gold tassel hanging down from its
point; his huge beard covered his knees and served him instead of a rug. But
behind him, on a much higher seat in the middle of the sledge sat a very
different person - a great lady, taller than any woman that Edmund had ever
seen. She also was covered in white fur up to her throat and held a long straight
golden wand in her right hand and wore a golden crown on her head. Her face was
white - not merely pale, but white like snow or paper or icing-sugar, except
for her very red mouth. It was a beautiful face in other respects, but proud
and cold and stern.
The sledge was a fine sight as it came sweeping towards Edmund
with the bells jingling and the dwarf cracking his whip and the snow flying up
on each side of it.
"Stop!" said the Lady, and the dwarf pulled the reindeer
up so sharp that they almost sat down. Then they recovered themselves and stood
champing their bits and blowing. In the frosty air the breath coming out of
their nostrils looked like smoke.
"And what, pray, are you?" said the Lady, looking hard
at Edmund.
"I'm-I'm-my name's Edmund," said Edmund rather
awkwardly. He did not like the way she looked at him.
The Lady frowned, "Is that how you address a Queen?" she
asked, looking sterner than ever.
"I beg your pardon, your Majesty, I didn't know," said
Edmund:
"Not know the Queen of
Narnia?" cried she. "Ha! You shall know us better hereafter. But I
repeat-what are you?"
"Please, your Majesty,"
said Edmund, "I don't know what you mean. I'm at school - at least I was
it's the holidays now."
"BUT what are you?" said
the Queen again. "Are you a great overgrown dwarf that has cut off its
beard?"
"No, your Majesty," said
Edmund, "I never had a beard, I'm a boy."
"A boy!" said she.
"Do you mean you are a Son of Adam?"
Edmund stood still, saying nothing.
He was too confused by this time to understand what the question meant.
"I see you are an idiot, whatever else you may be," said
the Queen. "Answer me, once and for all, or I shall lose my patience. Are
you human?"
"Yes, your Majesty," said
Edmund.
"And how, pray, did you come to enter my dominions?"
"Please, your Majesty, I came
in through a wardrobe."
"A wardrobe? What do you
mean?"
"I - I opened a door and just
found myself here, your Majesty," said Edmund.
"Ha!" said the Queen, speaking more to herself than to
him. "A door. A door from the world of men! I have heard of such things.
This may wreck all. But he is only one, and he is easily dealt with." As
she spoke these words she rose from her seat and looked Edmund full in the
face, her eyes flaming; at the same moment she raised her wand. Edmund felt
sure that she was going to do something dreadful but he seemed unable to move.
Then, just as he gave himself up for lost, she appeared to change her mind.
"My poor child," she said in quite a different voice,
"how cold you look! Come and sit with me here on the sledge and I will put
my mantle round you and we will talk."
Edmund did not like this arrangement
at all but he dared not disobey; he stepped on to the sledge and sat at her
feet, and she put a fold of her fur mantle round him and tucked it well in.
"Perhaps something hot to drink?" said the Queen.
"Should you like that?"
"Yes please, your
Majesty," said Edmund, whose teeth were chattering.
The Queen took from somewhere among her wrappings a very small
bottle which looked as if it were made of copper. Then, holding out her arm,
she let one drop fall from it on the snow beside the sledge. Edmund saw the
drop for a second in mid-air, shining like a diamond. But the moment it touched
the snow there was a hissing sound and there stood a jewelled cup full of
something that steamed. The dwarf immediately took this and handed it to Edmund
with a bow and a smile; not a very nice smile. Edmund felt much better as he
began to sip the hot drink. It was something he had never tasted before, very
sweet and foamy and creamy, and it warmed him right down to his toes.
"It is dull, Son of Adam, to drink without eating," said
the Queen presently. "What would you like best to eat?"
"Turkish Delight, please, your
Majesty," said Edmund.
The Queen let another drop fall from her bottle on to the snow,
and instantly there appeared a round box, tied with green silk ribbon, which, when
opened, turned out to contain several pounds of the best Turkish Delight. Each
piece was sweet and light to the very centre and Edmund had never tasted
anything more delicious. He was quite warm now, and very comfortable.
While he was eating the Queen kept asking him questions. At first
Edmund tried to remember that it is rude to speak with one's mouth full, but
soon he forgot about this and thought only of trying to shovel down as much
Turkish Delight as he could, and the more he ate the more he wanted to eat, and
he never asked himself why the Queen should be so inquisitive. She got him to
tell her that he had one brother and two sisters, and that one of his sisters
had already been in Narnia and had met a Faun there, and that no one except
himself and his brother and his sisters knew anything about Narnia. She seemed
especially interested in the fact that there were four of them, and kept on
coming back to it. "You are sure there are just four of you?" she
asked. "Two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve, neither more nor
less?" and Edmund, with his mouth full of Turkish Delight, kept on saying,
"Yes, I told you that before," and forgetting to call her "Your
Majesty", but she didn't seem to mind now.
At last the Turkish Delight was all finished and Edmund was
looking very hard at the empty box and wishing that she would ask him whether
he would like some more. Probably the Queen knew quite well what he was
thinking; for she knew, though Edmund did not, that this was enchanted Turkish
Delight and that anyone who had once tasted it would want more and more of it,
and would even, if they were allowed, go on eating it till they killed
themselves. But she did not offer him any more. Instead, she said to him,
"Son of Adam, I should so much
like to see your brother and your two sisters. Will you bring them to see
me?"
"I'll try," said Edmund,
still looking at the empty box.
"Because, if you did come again - bringing them with you of
course - I'd be able to give you some more Turkish Delight. I can't do it now,
the magic will only work once. In my own house it would be another
matter."
"Why can't we go to your house
now?" said Edmund. When he had first got on to the sledge he had been
afraid that she might drive away with him to some unknown place from which he
would not be able to get back; but he had forgotten about that fear now.
"It is a lovely place, my house," said the Queen.
"I am sure you would like it. There are whole rooms full of Turkish
Delight, and what's more, I have no children of my own. I want a nice boy whom
I could bring up as a Prince and who would be King of Narnia when I am gone.
While he was Prince he would wear a gold crown and eat Turkish Delight all day
long; and you are much the cleverest and handsomest young man I've ever met. I
think I would like to make you the Prince - some day, when you bring the others
to visit me."
"Why not now?" said
Edmund. His face had become very red and his mouth and fingers were sticky. He
did not look either clever or handsome, whatever the Queen might say.
"Oh, but if I took you there now," said she, "I
shouldn't see your brother and your sisters. I very much want to know your
charming relations. You are to be the Prince and - later on - the King; that is
understood. But you must have courtiers and nobles. I will make your brother a
Duke and your sisters Duchesses."
"There's nothing special about
them," said Edmund, "and, anyway, I could always bring them some
other time."
"Ah, but once you were in my
house," said the Queen, "you might forget all about thern. You would
be enjoying yourself so much that you wouldn't want the bother of going to
fetch them. No. You must go back to your own country now and come to me another
day, with them, you understand. It is no good coming without them."
"But I don't even know the way
back to my own country," pleaded Edmund. "That's easy," answered
the Queen. "Do you see that lamp?" She pointed with her wand and
Edmund turned and saw the same lamp-post under which Lucy had met the Faun.
"Straight on, beyond that, is the way to the World of Men. And now look
the other way'- here she pointed in the opposite direction - "and tell me
if you can see two little hills rising above the trees."
"I think I can," said
Edmund.
"Well, my house is between those two hills. So next time you
come you have only to find the lamp-post and look for those two hills and walk
through the wood till you reach my house. But remember - you must bring the
others with you. I might have to be very angry with you if you came
alone."
"I'll do my best," said
Edmund.
"And, by the way," said the Queen, "you needn't
tell them about me. It would be fun to keep it a secret between us two,
wouldn't it? Make it a surprise for them. Just bring them along to the two
hills - a clever boy like you will easily think of some excuse for doing that -
and when you come to my house you could just say "Let's see who lives
here" or something like that. I am sure that would be best. If your sister
has met one of the Fauns, she may have heard strange stories about me - nasty
stories that might make her afraid to come to me. Fauns will say anything, you
know, and now -"
"Please, please," said
Edmund suddenly, "please couldn't I have just one piece of Turkish Delight
to eat on the way home?"
"No, no," said the Queen
with a laugh, "you must wait till next time." While she spoke, she
signalled to the dwarf to drive on, but as the sledge swept away out of sight,
the Queen waved to Edmund, calling out, "Next time! Next time! Don't
forget. Come soon."
Edmund was still staring after the
sledge when he heard someone calling his own name, and looking round he saw
Lucy coming towards him from another part of the wood.
"Oh, Edmund!" she cried. "So you've got in too!
Isn't it wonderful, and now-"
"All right," said Edmund,
"I see you were right and it is a magic wardrobe after all. I'll say I'm
sorry if you like. But where on earth have you been all this time? I've been
looking for you everywhere."
"If I'd known you had got in
I'd have waited for you," said Lucy, who was too happy and excited to
notice how snappishly Edmund spoke or how flushed and strange his face was.
"I've been having lunch with dear Mr Tumnus, the Faun, and he's very well
and the White Witch has done nothing to him for letting me go, so he thinks she
can't have found out and perhaps everything is going to be all right after
all."
"The White Witch?" said
Edmund; "who's she?"
"She is a perfectly terrible
person," said Lucy. "She calls herself the Queen of Narnia though she
has no right to be queen at all, and all the Fauns and Dryads and Naiads and
Dwarfs and Animals - at least all the good ones - simply hate her. And she can
turn people into stone and do all kinds of horrible things. And she has made a
magic so that it is always winter in Narnia - always winter, but it never gets
to Christmas. And she drives about on a sledge, drawn by reindeer, with her
wand in her hand and a crown on her head."
Edmund was already feeling
uncomfortable from having eaten too many sweets, and when he heard that the
Lady he had made friends with was a dangerous witch he felt even more
uncomfortable. But he still wanted to taste that Turkish Delight again more
than he wanted anything else.
"Who told you all that stuff about the White Witch?" he
asked.
"Mr Tumnus, the Faun," said Lucy.
"You can't always believe what Fauns say," said Edmund,
trying to sound as if he knew far more about them than Lucy.
"Who said so?" asked Lucy.
"Everyone knows it," said Edmund; "ask anybody you
like. But it's pretty poor sport standing here in the snow. Let's go
home."
"Yes, let's," said Lucy.
"Oh, Edmund, I am glad you've got in too. The others will have to believe
in Narnia now that both of us have been there. What fun it will be!"
But Edmund secretly thought that it
would not be as good fun for him as for her. He would have to admit that Lucy
had been right, before all the others, and he felt sure the others would all be
on the side of the Fauns and the animals; but he was already more than half on
the side of the Witch. He did not know what he would say, or how he would keep
his secret once they were all talking about Narnia.
By this time they had walked a good way. Then suddenly they felt
coats around them instead of branches and next moment they were both standing
outside the wardrobe in the empty room.
"I say," said Lucy, "you do look awful, Edmund.
Don't you feel well?"
"I'm all right," said
Edmund, but this was not true. He was feeling very sick.
"Come on then," said Lucy, "let's find the others.
What a lot we shall have to tell them! And what wonderful adventures we shall
have now that we're all in it together."
BECAUSE the game of hide-and-seek
was still going on, it took Edmund and Lucy some time to find the others. But
when at last they were all together (which happened in the long room, where the
suit of armour was) Lucy burst out:
"Peter! Susan! It's all true.
Edmund has seen it too. There is a country you can get to through the wardrobe.
Edmund and I both got in. We met one another in there, in the wood. Go on,
Edmund; tell them all about it."
"What's all this about,
Ed?" said Peter.
And now we come to one of the nastiest things in this story. Up to
that moment Edmund had been feeling sick, and sulky, and annoyed with Lucy for
being right, but he hadn't made up his mind what to do. When Peter suddenly
asked him the question he decided all at once to do the meanest and most
spiteful thing he could think of. He decided to let Lucy down.
"Tell us, Ed," said Susan.
And Edmund gave a very superior look as if he were far older than
Lucy (there was really only a year's difference) and then a little snigger and
said, "Oh, yes, Lucy and I have been playing - pretending that all her
story about a country in the wardrobe is true. just for fun, of course. There's
nothing there really."
Poor Lucy gave Edmund one look and
rushed out of the room.
Edmund, who was becoming a nastier person every minute, thought that
he had scored a great success, and went on at once to say, "There she goes
again. What's the matter with her? That's the worst of young kids, they always
-"
"Look here," said Peter,
turning on him savagely, "shut up! You've been perfectly beastly to Lu
ever since she started this nonsense about the wardrobe, and now you go playing
games with her about it and setting her off again. I believe you did it simply
out of spite."
"But it's all nonsense,"
said Edmund, very taken aback.
"Of course it's all nonsense," said Peter, "that's
just the point. Lu was perfectly all right when we left home, but since we've
been down here she seems to be either going queer in the head or else turning
into a most frightful liar. But whichever it is, what good do you think you'll
do by jeering and nagging at her one day and encouraging her the next?"
"I thought - I thought,"
said Edmund; but he couldn't think of anything to say.
"You didn't think anything at all," said Peter;
"it's just spite. You've always liked being beastly to anyone smaller than
yourself; we've seen that at school before now."
"Do stop it," said Susan;
"it won't make things any better having a row between you two. Let's go
and find Lucy."
It was not surprising that when they
found Lucy, a good deal later, everyone could see that she had been crying.
Nothing they could say to her made any difference. She stuck to her story and
said:
"I don't care what you think,
and I don't care what you say. You can tell the Professor or you can write to
Mother or you can do anything you like. I know I've met a Faun in there and - I
wish I'd stayed there and you are all beasts, beasts."
It was an unpleasant evening. Lucy
was miserable and Edmund was beginning to feel that his plan wasn't working as
well as he had expected. The two older ones were really beginning to think that
Lucy was out of her mind. They stood in the passage talking about it in
whispers long after she had gone to bed.
The result was the next morning they decided that they really
would go and tell the whole thing to the Professor. "He'll write to Father
if he thinks there is really something wrong with Lu," said Peter;
"it's getting beyond us." So they went and knocked at the study door,
and the Professor said "Come in," and got up and found chairs for
them and said he was quite at their disposal. Then he sat listening to them
with the tips of his fingers pressed together and never interrupting, till they
had finished the whole story. After that he said nothing for quite a long time.
Then he cleared his throat and said the last thing either of them expected:
"How do you know," he
asked, "that your sister's story is not true?"
"Oh, but -" began Susan,
and then stopped. Anyone could see from the old man's face that he was perfectly
serious. Then Susan pulled herself together and said, "But Edmund said
they had only been pretending."
"That is a point," said
the Professor, "which certainly deserves consideration; very careful
consideration. For instance - if you will excuse me for asking the question -
does your experience lead you to regard your brother or your sister as the more
reliable? I mean, which is the more truthful?"
"That's just the funny thing
about it, sir," said Peter. "Up till now, I'd have said Lucy every
time."
"And what do you think, my
dear?" said the Professor, turning to Susan.
"Well," said Susan, "in general, I'd say the same
as Peter, but this couldn't be true - all this about the wood and the
Faun."
"That is more than I
know," said the Professor, "and a charge of lying against someone
whom you have always found truthful is a very serious thing; a very serious
thing indeed."
"We were afraid it mightn't
even be lying," said Susan; "we thought there might be something
wrong with Lucy."
"Madness, you mean?" said
the Professor quite coolly. "Oh, you can make your minds easy about that.
One has only to look at her and talk to her to see that she is not mad."
"But then," said Susan,
and stopped. She had never dreamed that a grown-up would talk like the Professor
and didn't know what to think.
"Logic!" said the Professor half to himself. "Why
don't they teach logic at these schools? There are only three possibilities.
Either your sister is telling lies, or she is mad, or she is telling the truth.
You know she doesn't tell lies and it is obvious that she is not mad For the
moment then and unless any further evidence turns up, we must assume that she
is telling the truth."
Susan looked at him very hard and
was quite sure from the expression on his face that he was no making fun of
them.
"But how could it be true, sir?" said Peter.
"Why do you say that?" asked the Professor.
"Well, for one thing," said Peter, "if it was true
why doesn't everyone find this country every time they go to the wardrobe? I mean,
there was nothing there when we looked; even Lucy didn't pretend the was."
"What has that to do with
it?" said the Professor.
"Well, sir, if things are real, they're there all the
time."
"Are they?" said the
Professor; and Peter did'nt know quite what to say.
"But there was no time," said Susan. "Lucy had no
time to have gone anywhere, even if there was such a place. She came running
after us the very moment we were out of the room. It was less than minute, and
she pretended to have been away for hours."
"That is the very thing that
makes her story so likely to be true," said the Professor. "If there
really a door in this house that leads to some other world (and I should warn
you that this is a very strange house, and even I know very little about it) -
if, I say, she had got into another world, I should not be at a surprised to
find that the other world had a separate time of its own; so that however long
you stay there it would never take up any of our time. On the other hand, I
don't think many girls of her age would invent that idea for themselves. If she
had been pretending, she would have hidden for a reasonable time before coming
out and telling her story."
"But do you really mean,
sir," said Peter, "that there could be other worlds - all over the
place, just round the corner - like that?"
"Nothing is more
probable," said the Professor, taking off his spectacles and beginning to
polish them, while he muttered to himself, "I wonder what they do teach
them at these schools."
"But what are we to do?"
said Susan. She felt that the conversation was beginning to get off the point.
"My dear young lady," said the Professor, suddenly
looking up with a very sharp expression at both of them, "there is one
plan which no one has yet suggested and which is well worth trying."
"What's that?" said Susan.
"We might all try minding our own business," said he.
And that was the end of that conversation.
After this things were a good deal better for Lucy. Peter saw to
it that Edmund stopped jeering at her, and neither she nor anyone else felt
inclined to talk about the wardrobe at all. It had become a rather alarming
subject. And so for a time it looked as if all the adventures were coming to an
end; but that was not to be.
This house of the Professor's - which even he knew so little about
- was so old and famous that people from all over England used to come and ask
permission to see over it. It was the sort of house that is mentioned in guide
books and even in histories; and well it might be, for all manner of stories
were told about it, some of them even stranger than the one I am telling you
now. And when parties of sightseers arrived and asked to see the house, the
Professor always gave them permission, and Mrs Macready, the housekeeper,
showed them round, telling them about the pictures and the armour, and the rare
books in the library. Mrs Macready was not fond of children, and did not like
to be interrupted when she was telling visitors all the things she knew. She
had said to Susan and Peter almost on the first morning (along with a good many
other instructions), "And please remember you're to keep out of the way
whenever I'm taking a party over the house."
"Just as if any of us would
want to waste half the morning trailing round with a crowd of strange
grown-ups!" said Edmund, and the other three thought the same. That was
how the adventures began for the second time.
A few mornings later Peter and Edmund were looking at the suit of armour
and wondering if they could take it to bits when the two girls rushed into the
room and said, "Look out! Here comes the Macready and a whole gang with
her."
"Sharp's the word," said
Peter, and all four made off through the door at the far end of the room. But
when they had got out into the Green Room and beyond it, into the Library, they
suddenly heard voices ahead of them, and realised that Mrs Macready must be
bringing her party of sightseers up the back stairs - instead of up the front
stairs as they had expected. And after that - whether it was that they lost
their heads, or that Mrs Macready was trying to catch them, or that some magic
in the house had come to life and was chasing them into Narnia they seemed to
find themselves being followed everywhere, until at last Susan said, "Oh
bother those trippers! Here - let's get into the Wardrobe Room till they've
passed. No one will follow us in there." But the moment they were inside
they heard the voices in the passage - and then someone fumbling at the door -
and then they saw the handle turning.
"Quick!" said Peter, "there's nowhere else,"
and flung open the wardrobe. All four of them bundled inside it and sat there,
panting, in the dark. Peter held the door closed but did not shut it; for, of
course, he remembered, as every sensible person does, that you should never
never shut yourself up in a wardrobe.
"I wish the Macready would
hurry up and take all these people away," said Susan presently, "I'm
getting horribly cramped."
"And what a filthy smell of
camphor!" said Edmund.
"I expect the pockets of these coats are full of it,"
said Susan, "to keep away the moths."
"There's something sticking
into my back," said Peter.
"And isn't it cold?" said Susan.
"Now that you mention it, it is cold," said Peter,
"and hang it all, it's wet too. What's the matter with this place? I'm
sitting on something wet. It's getting wetter every minute." He struggled
to his feet.
"Let's get out," said Edmund, "they've gone."
"O-o-oh!" said Susan
suddenly, and everyone asked her what was the matter.
"I'm sitting against a tree," said Susan, "and
look! It's getting light - over there."
"By Jove, you're right,"
said Peter, "and look there - and there. It's trees all round. And this
wet stuff is snow. Why, I do believe we've got into Lucy's wood after
all."
And now there was no mistaking it
and all four children stood blinking in the daylight of a winter day. Behind
them were coats hanging on pegs, in front of them were snow-covered trees.
Peter turned at once to Lucy.
"I apologise for not believing you," he said, "I'm
sorry. Will you shake hands?"
"Of course," said Lucy,
and did.
"And now," said Susan, "what do we do next?"
"Do?" said Peter,
"why, go and explore the wood, of course."
"Ugh!" said Susan,
stamping her feet, "it's pretty cold. What about putting on some of these
coats?"
"They're not ours," said
Peter doubtfully.
"I am sure nobody would mind," said Susan; "it
isn't as if we wanted to take them out of the house; we shan't take them even
out of the wardrobe."
"I never thought of that,
Su," said Peter. "Of course, now you put it that way, I see. No one
could say you had bagged a coat as long as you leave it in the wardrobe where
you found it. And I suppose this whole country is in the wardrobe."
They immediately carried out Susan's
very sensible plan. The coats were rather too big for them so that they came
down to their heels and looked more like royal robes than coats when they had
put them on. But they all felt a good deal warmer and each thought the others
looked better in their new get-up and more suitable to the landscape.
"We can pretend we are Arctic explorers," said Lucy.
"This is going to be exciting enough without
pretending," said Peter, as he began leading the way forward into the
forest. There were heavy darkish clouds overhead and it looked as if there
might be more snow before night.
"I say," began Edmund presently, "oughtn't we to be
bearing a bit more to the left, that is, if we are aiming for the
lamp-post?" He had forgotten for the moment that he must pretend never to
have been in the wood before. The moment the words were out of his mouth he
realised that he had given himself away. Everyone stopped; everyone stared at
him. Peter whistled.
"So you really were here," he said, "that time Lu
said she'd met you in here - and you made out she was telling lies."
There was a dead silence.
"Well, of all the poisonous little beasts -" said Peter, and shrugged
his shoulders and said no more. There seemed, indeed, no more to say, and
presently the four resumed their journey; but Edmund was saying to himself,
"I'll pay you all out for this, you pack of stuck-up, selfsatisfied prigs."
"Where are we going
anyway?" said Susan, chiefly for the sake of changing the subject.
"I think Lu ought to be the leader," said Peter;
"goodness knows she deserves it. Where will you take us, Lu?"
"What about going to see Mr
Tumnus?" said Lucy. "He's the nice Faun I told you about."
Everyone agreed to this and off they
went walking briskly and stamping their feet. Lucy proved a good leader. At
first she wondered whether she would be able to find the way, but she
recognised an oddlooking tree on one place and a stump in another and brought
them on to where the ground became uneven and into the little valley and at
last to the very door of Mr Tumnus's cave. But there a terrible surprise
awaited them.
The door had been wrenched off its hinges and broken to bits.
Inside, the cave was dark and cold and had the damp feel and smell of a place
that had not been lived in for several days. Snow had drifted in from the
doorway and was heaped on the floor, mixed with something black, which turned
out to be the charred sticks and ashes from the fire. Someone had apparently
flung it about the room and then stamped it out. The crockery lay smashed on
the floor and the picture of the Faun's father had been slashed into shreds
with a knife.
"This is a pretty good wash-out," said Edmund; "not
much good coming here."
"What is this?" said
Peter, stooping down. He had just noticed a piece of paper which had been
nailed through the carpet to the floor.
"Is there anything written on it?" asked Susan.
"Yes, I think there is," answered Peter, "but I
can't read it in this light. Let's get out into the open air."
They all went out in the daylight
and crowded round Peter as he read out the following words:
The former occupant of these
premises, the Faun Tumnus, is under arrest and awaiting his trial on a charge
of High Treason against her Imperial Majesty Jadis, Queen of Narnia, Chatelaine
of Cair Paravel, Empress of the Lone Islands, etc., also of comforting her said
Majesty's enemies, harbouring spies and fraternizing with Humans.
signed MAUGRIM, Captain of the Secret Police, LONG LIVE THE QUEEN
The children stared at each other.
"I don't know that I'm going to like this place after
all," said Susan.
"Who is this Queen, Lu?" said Peter. "Do you know
anything about her?"
"She isn't a real queen at
all," answered Lucy; "she's a horrible witch, the White Witch.
Everyone all the wood people - hate her. She has made an enchantment over the
whole country so that it is always winter here and never Christmas."
"I - I wonder if there's any
point in going on," said Susan. "I mean, it doesn't seem particularly
safe here and it looks as if it won't be much fun either. And it's getting
colder every minute, and we've brought nothing to eat. What about just going
home?"
"Oh, but we can't, we
can't," said Lucy suddenly; "don't you see? We can't just go home,
not after this. It is all on my account that the poor Faun has got into this
trouble. He hid me from the Witch and showed me the way back. That's what it
means by comforting the Queen's enemies and fraternizing with Humans. We simply
must try to rescue him."
"A lot we could do! said
Edmund, "when we haven't even got anything to eat!"
"Shut up - you!" said
Peter, who was still very angry with Edmund. "What do you think,
Susan?"
"I've a horrid feeling that Lu
is right," said Susan. "I don't want to go a step further and I wish
we'd never come. But I think we must try to do something for Mr
Whatever-his-name is - I mean the Faun."
"That's what I feel too,"
said Peter. "I'm worried about having no food with us. I'd vote for going
back and getting something from the larder, only there doesn't seem to be any
certainty of getting into this country again when once you've got out of it. I
think we'll have to go on."
"So do I," said both the girls.
"If only we knew where the poor chap was imprisoned!"
said Peter.
They were all still wondering what to do next, when Lucy said,
"Look! There's a robin, with such a red breast. It's the first bird I've
seen here. I say! - I wonder can birds talk in Narnia? It almost looks as if it
wanted to say something to us." Then she turned to the Robin and said,
"Please, can you tell us where Tumnus the Faun has been taken to?" As
she said this she took a step towards the bird. It at once flew away but only as
far as to the next tree. There it perched and looked at them very hard as if it
understood all they had been saying. Almost without noticing that they had done
so, the four children went a step or two nearer to it. At this the Robin flew
away again to the next tree and once more looked at them very hard. (You
couldn't have found a robin with a redder chest or a brighter eye.)
"Do you know," said Lucy,
"I really believe he means us to follow him."
"I've an idea he does,"
said Susan. "What do you think, Peter?"
"Well, we might as well try
it," answered Peter.
The Robin appeared to understand the matter thoroughly. It kept
going from tree to tree, always a few yards ahead of them, but always so near
that they could easily follow it. In this way it led them on, slightly
downhill. Wherever the Robin alighted a little shower of snow would fall off
the branch. Presently the clouds parted overhead and the winter sun came out
and the snow all around them grew dazzlingly bright. They had been travelling
in this way for about half an hour, with the two girls in front, when Edmund
said to Peter, "if you're not still too high and mighty to talk to me,
I've something to say which you'd better listen to."
"What is it?" asked Peter.
"Hush! Not so loud," said Edmund; "there's no good
frightening the girls. But have you realised what we're doing?"
"What?" said Peter,
lowering his voice to a whisper.
"We're following a guide we know nothing about. How do we
know which side that bird is on? Why shouldn't it be leading us into a
trap?"
"That's a nasty idea. Still - a
robin, you know. They're good birds in all the stories I've ever read. I'm sure
a robin wouldn't be on the wrong side."
"It if comes to that, which is the right side? How do we know
that the Fauns are in the right and the Queen (yes, I know we've been told
she's a witch) is in the wrong? We don't really know anything about
either."
"The Faun saved Lucy."
"He said he did. But how do we
know? And there's another thing too. Has anyone the least idea of the way home
from here?"
"Great Scott!" said Peter,
"I hadn't thought of that."
"And no chance of dinner
either," said Edmund.
WHILE the two boys were whispering behind,
both the girls suddenly cried "Oh!" and stopped.
"The robin!" cried Lucy, "the robin. It's flown
away." And so it had - right out of sight.
"And now what are we to do?" said Edmund, giving Peter a
look which was as much as to say "What did I tell you?"
"Sh! Look!" said Susan.
"What?" said Peter.
"There's something moving among the trees over there to the
left."
They all stared as hard as they
could, and no one felt very comfortable.
"There it goes again," said Susan presently.
"I saw it that time too," said Peter. "It's still
there. It's just gone behind that big tree."
"What is it?" asked Lucy,
trying very hard not to sound nervous.
"Whatever it is," said Peter, "it's dodging us.
It's something that doesn't want to be seen."
"Let's go home," said
Susan. And then, though nobody said it out loud, everyone suddenly realised the
same fact that Edmund had whispered to Peter at the end of the last chapter.
They were lost.
"What's it like?" said Lucy.
"It's - it's a kind of animal," said Susan; and then,
"Look! Look! Quick! There it is."
They all saw it this time, a
whiskered furry face which had looked out at them from behind a tree. But this
time it didn't immediately draw back. Instead, the animal put its paw against
its mouth just as humans put their finger on their lips when they are
signalling to you to be quiet. Then it disappeared again. The children, all
stood holding their breath.
A moment later the stranger came out from behind the tree, glanced
all round as if it were afraid someone was watching, said "Hush",
made signs to them to join it in the thicker bit of wood where it was standing,
and then once more disappeared.
"I know what it is," said Peter; "it's a beaver. I
saw the tail."
"It wants us to go to it,"
said Susan, "and it is warning us not to make a noise."
"I know," said Peter.
"The question is, are we to go to it or not? What do you think, Lu?"
"I think it's a nice
beaver," said Lucy.
"Yes, but how do we know?" said Edmund.
"Shan't we have to risk it?" said Susan. "I mean,
it's no good just standing here and I feel I want some dinner."
At this moment the Beaver again
popped its head out from behind the tree and beckoned earnestly to them.
"Come on," said Peter,"let's give it a try. All
keep close together. We ought to be a match for one beaver if it turns out to
be an enemy."
So the children all got close
together and walked up to the tree and in behind it, and there, sure enough,
they found the Beaver; but it still drew back, saying to them in a hoarse
throaty whisper, "Further in, come further in. Right in here. We're not
safe in the open!"
Only when it had led them into a
dark spot where four trees grew so close together that their boughs met and the
brown earth and pine needles could be seen underfoot because no snow had been
able to fall there, did it begin to talk to them.
"Are you the Sons of Adam and the Daughters of Eve?" it
said.
"We're some of them," said Peter.
"S-s-s-sh!" said the Beaver, "not so loud please. We're
not safe even here."
"Why, who are you afraid
of?" said Peter. "There's no one here but ourselves."
"There are the trees,"
said the Beaver. "They're always listening. Most of them are on our side,
but there are trees that would betray us to her; you know who I mean," and
it nodded its head several times.
"If it comes to talking about sides," said Edmund,
"how do we know you're a friend?"
"Not meaning to be rude, Mr
Beaver," added Peter, "but you see, we're strangers."
"Quite right, quite
right," said the Beaver. "Here is my token." With these words it
held up to them a little white object. They all looked at it in surprise, till
suddenly Lucy said, "Oh, of course. It's my handkerchief - the one I gave
to poor Mr Tumnus."
"That's right," said the
Beaver. "Poor fellow, he got wind of the arrest before it actually
happened and handed this over to me. He said that if anything happened to him I
must meet you here and take you on to -" Here the Beaver's voice sank into
silence and it gave one or two very mysterious nods. Then signalling to the
children to stand as close around it as they possibly could, so that their
faces were actually tickled by its whiskers, it added in a low whisper -
"They say Aslan is on the move
- perhaps has already landed."
And now a very curious thing
happened. None of the children knew who Aslan was any more than you do; but the
moment the Beaver had spoken these words everyone felt quite different. Perhaps
it has sometimes happened to you in a dream that someone says something which
you don't understand but in the dream it feels as if it had some enormous
meaning - either a terrifying one which turns the whole dream into a nightmare
or else a lovely meaning too lovely to put into words, which makes the dream so
beautiful that you remember it all your life and are always wishing you could
get into that dream again. It was like that now. At the name of Aslan each one
of the children felt something jump in its inside. Edmund felt a sensation of
mysterious horror. Peter felt suddenly brave and adventurous. Susan felt as if
some delicious smell or some delightful strain of music had just floated by
her. And Lucy got the feeling you have when you wake up in the morning and
realize that it is the beginning of the holidays or the beginning of summer.
"And what about Mr Tumnus," said Lucy; "where is
he?"
"S-s-s-sh," said the
Beaver, "not here. I must bring you where we can have a real talk and also
dinner."
No one except Edmund felt any
difficulty about trusting the beaver now, and everyone, including Edmund, was
very glad to hear the word "dinner".
They therefore all hurried along behind their new friend who led
them at a surprisingly quick pace, and always in the thickest parts of the
forest, for over an hour. Everyone was feeling very tired and very hungry when
suddenly the trees began to get thinner in front of them and the ground to fall
steeply downhill. A minute later they came out under the open sky (the sun was
still shining) and found themselves looking down on a fine sight.
They were standing on the edge of a steep, narrow valley at the
bottom of which ran - at least it would have been running if it hadn't been
frozen - a fairly large river. Just below them a dam had been built across this
river, and when they saw it everyone suddenly remembered that of course beavers
are always making dams and felt quite sure that Mr Beaver had made this one.
They also noticed that he now had a sort of modest expression on his, face -
the sort of look people have when you are visiting a garden they've made or
reading a story they've written. So it was only common politeness when Susan
said, "What a lovely dam!" And Mr Beaver didn't say "Hush"
this time but "Merely a trifle! Merely a trifle! And it isn't really finished!"
Above the dam there was what ought
to have been a deep pool but was now, of course, a level floor of dark green
ice. And below the dam, much lower down, was more ice, but instead of being
smooth this was all frozen into the foamy and wavy shapes in which the water
had been rushing along at the very moment when the frost came. And where the
water had been trickling over and spurting through the dam there was now a
glittering wall of icicles, as if the side of the dam had been covered all over
with flowers and wreaths and festoons of the purest sugar. And out in the
middle, and partly on top of the dam was a funny little house shaped rather
like an enormous beehive and from a hole in the roof smoke was going up, so
that when you saw it {especially if you were hungry) you at once thought of
cooking and became hungrier than you were before.
That was what the others chiefly noticed, but Edmund noticed
something else. A little lower down the river there was another small river which
came down another small valley to join it. And looking up that valley, Edmund
could see two small hills, and he was almost sure they were the two hills which
the White Witch had pointed out to him when he parted from her at the lamp-post
that other day. And then between them, he thought, must be her palace, only a
mile off or less. And he thought about Turkish Delight and about being a King
("And I wonder how Peter will like that?" he asked himself) and
horrible ideas came into his head.
"Here we are," said Mr Beaver, "and it looks as if
Mrs Beaver is expecting us. I'll lead the way. But be careful and don't
slip."
The top of the dam was wide enough
to walk on, though not (for humans) a very nice place to walk because it was
covered with ice, and though the frozen pool was level with it on one side,
there was a nasty drop to the lower river on the other. Along this route Mr
Beaver led them in single file right out to the middle where they could look a
long way up the river and a long way down it. And when they had reached the
middle they were at the door of the house.
"Here we are, Mrs Beaver," said Mr Beaver, "I've
found them. Here are the Sons and Daughters of Adam and Eve'- and they all went
in.
The first thing Lucy noticed as she went in was a burring sound,
and the first thing she saw was a kindlooking old she-beaver sitting in the
corner with a thread in her mouth working busily at her sewing machine, and it
was from it that the sound came. She stopped her work and got up as soon as the
children came in.
"So you've come at last!" she said, holding out both her
wrinkled old paws. "At last! To think that ever I should live to see this
day! The potatoes are on boiling and the kettle's singing and I daresay, Mr
Beaver, you'll get us some fish."
"That I will," said Mr
Beaver, and he went out of the house (Peter went with him), and across the ice
of the deep pool to where he had a little hole in the ice which he kept open
every day with his hatchet. They took a pail with them. Mr Beaver sat down quietly
at the edge of the hole (he didn't seem to mind it being so chilly), looked
hard into it, then suddenly shot in his paw, and before you could say Jack
Robinson had whisked out a beautiful trout. Then he did it all over again until
they had a fine catch of fish.
Meanwhile the girls were helping Mrs Beaver to fill the kettle and
lay the table and cut the bread and put the plates in the oven to heat and draw
a huge jug of beer for Mr Beaver from a barrel which stood in one corner of the
house, and to put on the frying-pan and get the dripping hot. Lucy thought the
Beavers had a very snug little home though it was not at all like Mr Tumnus's
cave. There were no books or pictures, and instead of beds there were bunks,
like on board ship, built into the wall. And there were hams and strings of
onions hanging from the roof, and against the walls were gum boots and oilskins
and hatchets and pairs of shears and spades and trowels and things for carrying
mortar in and fishing-rods and fishing-nets and sacks. And the cloth on the
table, though very clean, was very rough.
Just as the frying-pan was nicely hissing Peter and Mr Beaver came
in with the fish which Mr Beaver had already opened with his knife and cleaned
out in the open air. You can think how good the new-caught fish smelled while
they were frying and how the hungry children longed for them to be done and how
very much hungrier still they had become before Mr Beaver said, "Now we're
nearly ready." Susan drained the potatoes and then put them all back in
the empty pot to dry on the side of the range while Lucy was helping Mrs Beaver
to dish up the trout, so that in a very few minutes everyone was drawing up
their stools (it was all three-legged stools in the Beavers' house except for
Mrs Beaver's own special rockingchair beside the fire) and preparing to enjoy
themselves. There was a jug of creamy milk for the children (Mr Beaver stuck to
beer) and a great big lump of deep yellow butter in the middle of the table
from which everyone took as much as he wanted to go with his potatoes, and all
the children thought - and I agree with them - that there's nothing to beat
good freshwater fish if you eat it when it has been alive half an hour ago and
has come out of the pan half a minute ago. And when they had finished the fish
Mrs Beaver brought unexpectedly out of the oven a great and gloriously sticky
marmalade roll, steaming hot, and at the same time moved the kettle on to the
fire, so that when they had finished the marmalade roll the tea was made and
ready to be poured out. And when each person had got his (or her) cup of tea,
each person shoved back his (or her) stool so as to be able to lean against the
wall and gave a long sigh of contentment.
"And now," said Mr Beaver, pushing away his empty beer
mug and pulling his cup of tea towards him, "if you'll just wait till I've
got my pipe lit up and going nicely - why, now we can get to business. It's
snowing again," he added, cocking his eye at the window. "That's all
the better, because it means we shan't have any visitors; and if anyone should
have been trying to follow you, why he won't find any tracks."
"AND now," said Lucy,
"do please tell us what's happened to Mr Tumnus."
"Ah, that's bad," said Mr Beaver,
shaking his head. "That's a very, very bad business. There's no doubt he
was taken off by the police. I got that from a bird who saw it done."
"But where's he been taken
to?" asked Lucy.
"Well, they were heading northwards when they were last seen
and we all know what that means."
"No, we don't," said
Susan. Mr Beaver shook his head in a very gloomy fashion.
"I'm afraid it means they were taking him to her House,"
he said.
"But what'll they do to him, Mr Beaver?" gasped Lucy.
"Well," said Mr Beaver, "you can't exactly say for
sure. But there's not many taken in there that ever comes out again. Statues.
All full of statues they say it is - in the courtyard and up the stairs and in
the hall. People she's turned" - (he paused and shuddered) "turned
into stone."
"But, Mr Beaver," said
Lucy, "can't we - I mean we must do something to save him. It's too
dreadful and it's all on my account."
"I don't doubt you'd save him
if you could, dearie," said Mrs Beaver, "but you've no chance of
getting into that House against her will and ever coming out alive."
"Couldn't we have some
stratagem?" said Peter. "I mean couldn't we dress up as something, or
pretend to be - oh, pedlars or anything - or watch till she was gone out - or-
oh, hang it all, there must be some way. This Faun saved my sister at his own
risk, Mr Beaver. We can't just leave him to be - to be - to have that done to
him."
"It's no good, Son of
Adam," said Mr Beaver, "no good your trying, of all people. But now
that Aslan is on the move-"
"Oh, yes! Tell us about
Aslan!" said several voices at once; for once again that strange feeling -
like the first signs of spring, like good news, had come over them.
"Who is Aslan?" asked Susan.
"Aslan?" said Mr Beaver. "Why, don't you know? He's
the King. He's the Lord of the whole wood, but not often here, you understand.
Never in my time or my father's time. But the word has reached us that he has
come back. He is in Narnia at this moment. He'll settle the White Queen all
right. It is he, not you, that will save Mr Tumnus."
"She won't turn him into stone
too?" said Edmund.
"Lord love you, Son of Adam, what a simple thing to
say!" answered Mr Beaver with a great laugh. "Turn him into stone? If
she can stand on her two feet and look him in the face it'll be the most she
can do and more than I expect of her. No, no. He'll put all to rights as it
says in an old rhyme in these parts:
Wrong will be right, when Aslan
comes in sight,
At the sound of his roar, sorrows
will be no more,
When he bares his teeth, winter
meets its death,
And when he shakes his mane, we
shall have spring again.
You'll understand when you see him."
"But shall we see him?"
asked Susan.
"Why, Daughter of Eve, that's what I brought you here for.
I'm to lead you where you shall meet him," said Mr Beaver.
"Is-is he a man?" asked Lucy.
"Aslan a man!" said Mr Beaver sternly. "Certainly
not. I tell you he is the King of the wood and the son of the great
Emperor-beyond-the-Sea. Don't you know who is the King of Beasts? Aslan is a
lion - the Lion, the great Lion."
"Ooh!" said Susan,
"I'd thought he was a man. Is he - quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous
about meeting a lion."
"That you will, dearie, and no
mistake," said Mrs Beaver; "if there's anyone who can appear before
Aslan without their knees knocking, they're either braver than most or else
just silly."
"Then he isn't safe?" said
Lucy.
"Safe?" said Mr Beaver; "don't you hear what Mrs
Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's
good. He's the King, I tell you."
"I'm longing to see him,"
said Peter, "even if I do feel frightened when it comes to the
point."
"That's right, Son of
Adam," said Mr Beaver, bringing his paw down on the table with a crash
that made all the cups and saucers rattle. "And so you shall. Word has
been sent that you are to meet him, tomorrow if you can, at the Stone Table.’
"Where's that?" said Lucy.
"I'll show you," said Mr Beaver. "It's down the
river, a good step from here. I'll take you to it!"
"But meanwhile what about poor
Mr Tumnus?" said Lucy.
"The quickest way you can help him is by going to meet
Aslan," said Mr Beaver, "once he's with us, then we can begin doing
things. Not that we don't need you too. For that's another of the old rhymes:
When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone
Sits at Cair Paravel in throne,
The evil time will be over and done.
So things must be drawing near their end now he's come and you've
come. We've heard of Aslan coming into these parts before - long ago, nobody
can say when. But there's never been any of your race here before."
"That's what I don't
understand, Mr Beaver," said Peter, "I mean isn't the Witch herself
human?"
"She'd like us to believe
it," said Mr Beaver, "and it's on that that she bases her claim to be
Queen. But she's no Daughter of Eve. She comes of your father Adam's" -
(here Mr Beaver bowed) "your father Adam's first wife, her they called
Lilith. And she was one of the Jinn. That's what she comes from on one side.
And on the other she comes of the giants. No, no, there isn't a drop of real
human blood in the Witch."
"That's why she's bad all
through, Mr Beaver," said Mrs Beaver.
"True enough, Mrs Beaver," replied he, "there may
be two views about humans (meaning no offence to the present company). But
there's no two views about things that look like humans and aren't."
"I've known good Dwarfs,"
said Mrs Beaver.
"So've I, now you come to speak of it," said her
husband, "but precious few, and they were the ones least like men. But in
general, take my advice, when you meet anything that's going to be human and
isn't yet, or used to be human once and isn't now, or ought to be human and
isn't, you keep your eyes on it and feel for your hatchet. And that's why the
Witch is always on the lookout for any humans in Narnia. She's been watching
for you this many a year, and if she knew there were four of you she'd be more
dangerous still."
"What's that to do with
it?" asked Peter.
"Because of another prophecy," said Mr Beaver.
"Down at Cair Paravel - that's the castle on the sea coast down at the
mouth of this river which ought to be the capital of the whole country if all
was as it should be - down at Cair Paravel there are four thrones and it's a
saying in Narnia time out of mind that when two Sons of Adam and two Daughters
of Eve sit in those four thrones, then it will be the end not only of the White
Witch's reign but of her life, and that is why we had to be so cautious as we
came along, for if she knew about you four, your lives wouldn't be worth a
shake of my whiskers!"
All the children had been attending
so hard to what Mr Beaver was telling them that they had noticed nothing else
for a long time. Then during the moment of silence that followed his last
remark, Lucy suddenly said:
"I say-where's Edmund?"
There was a dreadful pause, and then
everyone began asking "Who saw him last? How long has he been missing? Is
he outside? and then all rushed to the door and looked out. The snow was
falling thickly and steadily, the green ice of the pool had vanished under a
thick white blanket, and from where the little house stood in the centre of the
dam you could hardly see either bank. Out they went, plunging well over their
ankles into the soft new snow, and went round the house in every direction.
"Edmund! Edmund!" they called till they were hoarse. But the silently
falling snow seemed to muffle their voices and there was not even an echo in
answer.
"How perfectly dreadful!" said Susan as they at last
came back in despair. "Oh, how I wish we'd never come."
"What on earth are we to do, Mr
Beaver?" said Peter.
"Do?" said Mr Beaver, who was already putting on his
snow-boots, "do? We must be off at once. We haven't a moment to
spare!"
"We'd better divide into four
search parties," said Peter, "and all go in different directions.
Whoever finds him must come back here at once and-"
"Search parties, Son of
Adam?" said Mr Beaver; "what for?"
"Why, to look for Edmund, of
course!"
"There's no point in looking
for him," said Mr Beaver.
"What do you mean?" said Susan. "He can't be far
away yet. And we've got to find him. What do you mean when you say there's no
use looking for him?"
"The reason there's no use looking,"
said Mr Beaver, "is that we know already where he's gone!" Everyone
stared in amazement. "Don't you understand?" said Mr Beaver.
"He's gone to her, to the White Witch. He has betrayed us all."
"Oh, surely-oh, really!"
said Susan, "he can't have done that."
"Can't he?" said Mr
Beaver, looking very hard at the three children, and everything they wanted to
say died on their lips, for each felt suddenly quite certain inside that this
was exactly what Edmund had done.
"But will he know the way?" said Peter.
"Has he been in this country before?" asked Mr Beaver.
"Has he ever been here alone?"
"Yes," said Lucy, almost
in a whisper. "I'm afraid he has."
"And did he tell you what he'd
done or who he'd met?"
"Well, no, he didn't,"
said Lucy.
"Then mark my words," said Mr Beaver, "he has
already met the White Witch and joined her side, and been told where she lives.
I didn't like to mention it before (he being your brother and all) but the
moment I set eyes on that brother of yours I said to myself `Treacherous'. He
had the look of one who has been with the Witch and eaten her food. You can
always tell them if you've lived long in Narnia; something about their
eyes."
"All the same," said Peter
in a rather choking sort of voice, "we'll still have to go and look for
him. He is our brother after all, even if he is rather a little beast. And he's
only a kid."
"Go to the Witch's House?"
said Mrs Beaver. "Don't you see that the only chance of saving either him
or yourselves is to keep away from her?"
"How do you mean?" said
Lucy.
"Why, all she wants is to get all four of you (she's thinking
all the time of those four thrones at Cair Paravel). Once you were all four
inside her House her job would be done - and there'd be four new statues in her
collection before you'd had time to speak. But she'll keep him alive as long as
he's the only one she's got, because she'll want to use him as a decoy; as bait
to catch the rest of you with."
"Oh, can no one help us?"
wailed Lucy.
"Only Aslan," said Mr Beaver, "we must go on and
meet him. That's our only chance now."
"It seems to me, my
dears," said Mrs Beaver, "that it is very important to know just when
he slipped away. How much he can tell her depends on how much he heard. For instance,
had we started talking of Aslan before he left? If not, then we may do very
well, for she won't know that Aslan has come to Narnia, or that we are meeting
him, and will be quite off her guard as far as that is concerned."
"I don't remember his being
here when we were talking about Aslan -" began Peter, but Lucy interrupted
him.
"Oh yes, he was," she said miserably; "don't you
remember, it was he who asked whether the Witch couldn't turn Aslan into stone
too?"
"So he did, by Jove," said
Peter; "just the sort of thing he would say, too!"
"Worse and worse," said Mr
Beaver, "and the next thing is this. Was he still here when I told you
that the place for meeting Aslan was the Stone Table?"
And of course no one knew the answer
to this question.
"Because, if he was," continued Mr Beaver, "then
she'll simply sledge down in that direction and get between us and the Stone
Table and catch us on our way down. In fact we shall be cut off from Aslan.
"
"But that isn't what she'll do
first," said Mrs Beaver, "not if I know her. The moment that Edmund
tells her that we're all here she'll set out to catch us this very night, and
if he's been gone about half an hour, she'll be here in about another twenty
minutes."
"You're right, Mrs
Beaver," said her husband, "we must all get away from here. There's
not a moment to lose."
AND now of course you want to know
what had happened to Edmund. He had eaten his share of the dinner, but he
hadn't really enjoyed it because he was thinking all the time about Turkish
Delight - and there's nothing that spoils the taste of good ordinary food half
so much as the memory of bad magic food. And he had heard the conversation, and
hadn't enjoyed it much either, because he kept on thinking that the others were
taking no notice of him and trying to give him the cold shoulder. They weren't,
but he imagined it. And then he had listened until Mr Beaver told them about
Aslan and until he had heard the whole arrangement for meeting Aslan at the Stone
Table. It was then that he began very quietly to edge himself under the curtain
which hung over the door. For the mention of Aslan gave him a mysterious and
horrible feeling just as it gave the others a mysterious and lovely feeling.
Just as Mr Beaver had been repeating the rhyme about Adam's flesh
and Adam's bone Edmund had been very quietly turning the doorhandle; and just
before Mr Beaver had begun telling them that the White Witch wasn't really
human at all but half a Jinn and half a giantess, Edmund had got outside into
the snow and cautiously closed the door behind him.
You mustn't think that even now Edmund was quite so bad that he
actually wanted his brother and sisters to be turned into stone. He did want
Turkish Delight and to be a Prince (and later a King) and to pay Peter out for
calling him a beast. As for what the Witch would do with the others, he didn't
want her to be particularly nice to them - certainly not to put them on the
same level as himself; but he managed to believe, or to pretend he believed,
that she wouldn't do anything very bad to them, "Because," he said to
himself, "all these people who say nasty things about her are her enemies
and probably half of it isn't true. She was jolly nice to me, anyway, much nicer
than they are. I expect she is the rightful Queen really. Anyway, she'll be
better than that awful Aslan!" At least, that was the excuse he made in
his own mind for what he was doing. It wasn't a very good excuse, however, for
deep down inside him he really knew that the White Witch was bad and cruel.
The first thing he realised when he got outside and found the snow
falling all round him, was that he had left his coat behind in the Beavers' house.
And of course there was no chance of going back to get it now. The next thing
he realised was that the daylight was almost gone, for it had been nearly three
o'clock when they sat down to dinner and the winter days were short. He hadn't
reckoned on this; but he had to make the best of it. So he turned up his collar
and shuffled across the top of the dam (luckily it wasn't so slippery since the
snow had fallen) to the far side of the river.
It was pretty bad when he reached the far side. It was growing
darker every minute and what with that and the snowflakes swirling all round
him he could hardly see three feet ahead. And then too there was no road. He
kept slipping into deep drifts of snow, and skidding on frozen puddles, and
tripping over fallen tree-trunks, and sliding down steep banks, and barking his
shins against rocks, till he was wet and cold and bruised all over. The silence
and the loneliness were dreadful. In fact I really think he might have given up
the whole plan and gone back and owned up and made friends with the others, if
he hadn't happened to say to himself, "When I'm King of Narnia the first
thing I shall do will be to make some decent roads." And of course that
set him off thinking about being a King and all the other things he would do
and this cheered him up a good deal. He had just settled in his mind what sort
of palace he would have and how many cars and all about his private cinema and
where the principal railways would run and what laws he would make against
beavers and dams and was putting the finishing touches to some schemes for
keeping Peter in his place, when the weather changed. First the snow stopped.
Then a wind sprang up and it became freezing cold. Finally, the clouds rolled
away and the moon came out. It was a full moon and, shining on all that snow,
it made everything almost as bright as day - only the shadows were rather
confusing.
He would never have found his way if the moon hadn't come out by
the time he got to the other river you remember he had seen (when they first
arrived at the Beavers') a smaller river flowing into the great one lower down.
He now reached this and turned to follow it up. But the little valley down
which it came was much steeper and rockier than the one he had just left and
much overgrown with bushes, so that he could not have managed it at all in the
dark. Even as it was, he got wet through for he had to stoop under branches and
great loads of snow came sliding off on to his back. And every time this
happened he thought more and more how he hated Peter - just as if all this had
been Peter's fault.
But at last he came to a part where it was more level and the
valley opened out. And there, on the other side of the river, quite close to
him, in the middle of a little plain between two hills, he saw what must be the
White Witch's House. And the moon was shining brighter than ever. The House was
really a small castle. It seemed to be all towers; little towers with long
pointed spires on them, sharp as needles. They looked like huge dunce's caps or
sorcerer's caps. And they shone in the moonlight and their long shadows looked
strange on the snow. Edmund began to be afraid of the House.
But it was too late to think of turning back now.
He crossed the river on the ice and walked up to the House. There
was nothing stirring; not the slightest sound anywhere. Even his own feet made
no noise on the deep newly fallen snow. He walked on and on, past corner after
corner of the House, and past turret after turret to find the door. He had to
go right round to the far side before he found it. It was a huge arch but the
great iron gates stood wide open.
Edmund crept up to the arch and looked inside into the courtyard,
and there he saw a sight that nearly made his heart stop beating. Just inside
the gate, with the moonlight shining on it, stood an enormous lion crouched as
if it was ready to spring. And Edmund stood in the shadow of the arch, afraid
to go on and afraid to go back, with his knees knocking together. He stood
there so long that his teeth would have been chattering with cold even if they
had not been chattering with fear. How long this really lasted I don't know,
but it seemed to Edmund to last for hours.
Then at last he began to wonder why the lion was standing so still
- for it hadn't moved one inch since he first set eyes on it. Edmund now
ventured a little nearer, still keeping in the shadow of the arch as much as he
could. He now saw from the way the lion was standing that it couldn't have been
looking at him at all. ("But supposing it turns its head?" thought
Edmund.) In fact it was staring at something else namely a little: dwarf who
stood with his back to it about four feet away. "Aha!" thought
Edmund. "When it springs at the dwarf then will be my chance to escape."
But still the lion never moved, nor did the dwarf. And now at last Edmund
remembered what the others had said about the White Witch turning people into
stone. Perhaps this was only a stone lion. And as soon as he had thought of
that he noticed that the lion's back and the top of its head were covered with
snow. Of course it must be only a statue! No living animal would have let
itself get covered with snow. Then very slowly and with his heart beating as if
it would burst, Edmund ventured to go up to the lion. Even now he hardly dared
to touch it, but at last he put out his hand, very quickly, and did. It was
cold stone. He had been frightened of a mere statue!
The relief which Edmund felt was so
great that in spite of the cold he suddenly got warm all over right down to his
toes, and at the same time there came into his head what seemed a perfectly
lovely idea. "Probably," he thought, "this is the great Lion
Aslan that they were all talking about. She's caught him already and turned him
into stone. So that's the end of all their fine ideas about him! Pooh! Who's
afraid of Aslan?"
And he stood there gloating over the
stone lion, and presently he did something very silly and childish. He took a
stump of lead pencil out of his pocket and scribbled a moustache on the lion's
upper lip and then a pair of spectacles on its eyes. Then he said, "Yah!
Silly old Aslan! How do you like being a stone? You thought yourself mighty
fine, didn't you?" But in spite of the scribbles on it the face of the
great stone beast still looked so terrible, and sad, and noble, staring up in
the moonlight, that Edmund didn't really get any fun out of jeering at it. He
turned away and began to cross the courtyard.
As he got into the middle of it he saw that there were dozens of
statues all about - standing here and there rather as the pieces stand on a
chess-board when it is half-way through the game. There were stone satyrs, and
stone wolves, and bears and foxes and cat-amountains of stone. There were
lovely stone shapes that looked like women but who were really the spirits of
trees. There was the great shape of a centaur and a winged horse and a long
lithe creature that Edmund took to be a dragon. They all looked so strange
standing there perfectly life-like and also perfectly still, in the bright cold
moonlight, that it was eerie work crossing the courtyard. Right in the very
middle stood a huge shape like a man, but as tall as a tree, with a fierce face
and a shaggy beard and a great club in its right hand. Even though he knew that
it was only a stone giant and not a live one, Edmund did not like going past
it.
He now saw that there was a dim light showing from a doorway on
the far side of the courtyard. He went to it; there was a flight of stone steps
going up to an open door. Edmund went up them. Across the threshold lay a great
wolf.
"It's all right, it's all right," he kept saying to
himself; "it's only a stone wolf. It can't hurt me", and he raised
his leg to step over it. Instantly the huge creature rose, with all the hair
bristling along its back, opened a great, red mouth and said in a growling
voice:
"Who's there? Who's there?
Stand still, stranger, and tell me who you are."
"If you please, sir," said
Edmund, trembling so that he could hardly speak, "my name is Edmund, and I'm
the Son of Adam that Her Majesty met in the wood the other day and I've come to
bring her the news that my brother and sisters are now in Narnia - quite close,
in the Beavers' house. She - she wanted to see them."
"I will tell Her Majesty,"
said the Wolf. "Meanwhile, stand still on the threshold, as you value your
life." Then it vanished into the house.
Edmund stood and waited, his fingers aching with cold and his
heart pounding in his chest, and presently the grey wolf, Maugrim, the Chief of
the Witch's Secret Police, came bounding back and said, "Come in! Come in!
Fortunate favourite of the Queen - or else not so fortunate."
And Edmund went in, taking great
care not to tread on the Wolf's paws.
He found himself in a long gloomy hall with many pillars, full, as
the courtyard had been, of statues. The one nearest the door was a little faun
with a very sad expression on its face, and Edmund couldn't help wondering if
this might be Lucy's friend. The only light came from a single lamp and close
beside this sat the White Witch.
"I'm come, your Majesty," said Edmund, rushing eagerly
forward.
"How dare you come alone?" said the Witch in a terrible
voice. "Did I not tell you to bring the others with you?"
"Please, your Majesty,"
said Edmund, "I've done the best I can. I've brought them quite close.
They're in the little house on top of the dam just up the riverwith Mr and Mrs
Beaver."
A slow cruel smile came over the
Witch's face.
"Is this all your news?" she asked.
"No, your Majesty," said Edmund, and proceeded to tell
her all he had heard before leaving the Beavers' house.
"What! Aslan?" cried the Queen, "Aslan! Is this
true? If I find you have lied to me -"
"Please, I'm only repeating
what they said," stammered Edmund.
But the Queen, who was no longer attending to him, clapped her
hands. Instantly the same dwarf whom Edmund had seen with her before appeared.
"Make ready our sledge," ordered the Witch, "and
use the harness without bells."
Now we must go back to Mr and Mrs
Beaver and the three other children. As soon as Mr Beaver said, "There's
no time to lose," everyone began bundling themselves into coats, except
Mrs Beaver, who started picking up sacks and laying them on the table and said:
"Now, Mr Beaver, just reach down that ham. And here's a packet of tea, and
there's sugar, and some matches. And if someone will get two or three loaves
out of the crock over there in the corner."
"What are you doing, Mrs
Beaver?" exclaimed Susan.
"Packing a load for each of us, dearie," said Mrs Beaver
very coolly. "You didn't think we'd set out on a journey with nothing to
eat, did you?"
"But we haven't time!"
said Susan, buttoning the collar of her coat. "She may be here any
minute."
"That's what I say,"
chimed in Mr Beaver.
"Get along with you all," said his wife. "Think it
over, Mr Beaver. She can't be here for quarter of an hour at least."
"But don't we want as big a
start as we can possibly get," said Peter, "if we're to reach the
Stone Table before her?"
"You've got to remember that,
Mrs Beaver," said Susan. "As soon as she has looked in here and finds
we're gone she'll be off at top speed."
"That she will," said Mrs
Beaver. "But we can't get there before her whatever we do, for she'll be on
a sledge and we'll be walking."
"Then - have we no hope?"
said Susan.
"Now don't you get fussing, there's a dear," said Mrs
Beaver, "but just get half a dozen clean handkerchiefs out of the drawer.
'Course we've got a hope. We can't get there before her but we can keep under
cover and go by ways she won't expect and perhaps we'll get through."
"That's true enough, Mrs
Beaver," said her husband. "But it's time we were out of this."
"And don't you start fussing
either, Mr Beaver," said his wife. "There. That's better. There's
five loads and the smallest for the smallest of us: that's you, my dear,"
she added, looking at Lucy.
"Oh, do please come on," said Lucy.
"Well, I'm nearly ready now," answered Mrs Beaver at
last, allowing her husband to help her into; her snow-boots. "I suppose
the sewing machine's took heavy to bring?"
"Yes. It is," said Mr
Beaver. "A great deal too heavy. And you don't think you'll be able to use
it while we're on the run, I suppose?"
"I can't abide the thought of
that Witch fiddling with it," said Mrs Beaver, "and breaking it or
stealing it, as likely as not."
"Oh, please, please, please, do
hurry!" said the three children. And so at last they all got outside and
Mr Beaver locked the door ("It'll delay her a bit," he said) and they
set off, all carrying their loads over their shoulders.
The snow had stopped and the moon had come out when they began
their journey. They went in single file - first Mr Beaver, then Lucy, then
Peter, then Susan, and Mrs Beaver last of all. Mr Beaver led them across the
dam and on to the right bank of the river and then along a very rough sort of
path among the trees right down by the river-bank. The sides of the valley,
shining in the moonlight, towered up far above them on either hand. "Best
keep down here as much as possible," he said. "She'll have to keep to
the top, for you couldn't bring a sledge down here."
It would have been a pretty enough
scene to look at it through a window from a comfortable armchair; and even as
things were, Lucy enjoyed it at first. But as they went on walking and walking
- and walking and as the sack she was carrying felt heavier and heavier, she
began to wonder how she was going to keep up at all. And she stopped looking at
the dazzling brightness of the frozen river with all its waterfalls of ice and
at the white masses of the tree-tops and the great glaring moon and the
countless stars and could only watch the little short legs of Mr Beaver going
pad-pad-pad-pad through the snow in front of her as if they were never going to
stop. Then the moon disappeared and the snow began to fall once more. And at
last Lucy was so tired that she was almost asleep and walking at the same time
when suddenly she found that Mr Beaver had turned away from the river-bank to
the right and was leading them steeply uphill into the very thickest bushes.
And then as she came fully awake she found that Mr Beaver was just vanishing
into a little hole in the bank which had been almost hidden under the bushes
until you were quite on top of it. In fact, by the time she realised what was
happening, only his short flat tail was showing.
Lucy immediately stooped down and crawled in after him. Then she
heard noises of scrambling and puffing and panting behind her and in a moment
all five of them were inside.
"Wherever is this?" said Peter's voice, sounding tired
and pale in the darkness. (I hope you know what I mean by a voice sounding
pale.)
"It's an old hiding-place for
beavers in bad times," said Mr Beaver, "and a great secret. It's not much
of a place but we must get a few hours' sleep."
"If you hadn't all been in such
a plaguey fuss when we were starting, I'd have brought some pillows," said
Mrs Beaver.
It wasn't nearly such a nice cave as Mr Tumnus's, Lucy thought -
just a hole in the ground but dry and earthy. It was very small so that when
they all lay down they were all a bundle of clothes together, and what with
that and being warmed up by their long walk they were really rather snug. If
only the floor of the cave had been a little smoother! Then Mrs Beaver handed
round in the dark a little flask out of which everyone drank something - it
made one cough and splutter a little and stung the throat, but it also made you
feel deliciously warm after you'd swallowed it and everyone went straight to
sleep.
It seemed to Lucy only the next minute (though really it was hours
and hours later) when she woke up feeling a little cold and dreadfully stiff
and thinking how she would like a hot bath. Then she felt a set of long
whiskers tickling her cheek and saw the cold daylight coming in through the
mouth of the cave. But immediately after that she was very wide awake indeed,
and so was everyone else. In fact they were all sitting up with their mouths
and eyes wide open listening to a sound which was the very sound they'd all
been thinking of (and sometimes imagining they heard) during their walk last
night. It was a sound of jingling bells.
Mr Beaver was out of the cave like a flash the moment he heard it.
Perhaps you think, as Lucy thought for a moment, that this was a very silly
thing to do? But it was really a very sensible one. He knew he could scramble
to the top of the bank among bushes and brambles without being seen; and he
wanted above all things to see which way the Witch's sledge went. The others
all sat in the cave waiting and wondering. They waited nearly five minutes.
Then they heard something that frightened them very much. They heard voices.
"Oh," thought Lucy, "he's been seen. She's caught him!"
Great was their surprise when a
little later, they heard Mr Beaver's voice calling to them from just outside
the cave.
"It's all right," he was shouting. "Come out, Mrs
Beaver. Come out, Sons and Daughters of Adam. It's all right! It isn't
Her!" This was bad grammar of course, but that is how beavers talk when
they are excited; I mean, in Narnia - in our world they usually don't talk at
all.
So Mrs Beaver and the children came bundling out of the cave, all
blinking in the daylight, and with earth all over them, and looking very
frowsty and unbrushed and uncombed and with the sleep in their eyes.
"Come on!" cried Mr Beaver, who was almost dancing with
delight. "Come and see! This is a nasty knock for the Witch! It looks as
if her power is already crumbling."
"What do you mean, Mr
Beaver?" panted Peter as they all scrambled up the steep bank of the
valley together.
"Didn't I tell you," answered Mr Beaver, "that
she'd made it always winter and never Christmas? Didn't I tell you? Well, just
come and see!"
And then they were all at the top
and did see.
It was a sledge, and it was reindeer with bells on their harness.
But they were far bigger than the Witch's reindeer, and they were not white but
brown. And on the sledge sat a person whom everyone knew the moment they set
eyes on him. He was a huge man. in a bright red robe (bright as hollyberries)
with a hood that had fur inside it and a great white beard, that fell like a
foamy waterfall over his chest.
Everyone knew him because, though you see people of his sort only
in Narnia, you see pictures of them and hear them talked about even in our
world - the world on this side of the wardrobe door. But when you really see
them in Narnia it is rather different. Some of the pictures of Father Christmas
in our world make him look only funny and jolly. But now that the children
actually stood looking at him they didn't find it quite like that. He was so
big, and so glad, and so real, that they all became quite still. They felt very
glad, but also solemn.
"I've come at last," said he. "She has kept me out
for a long time, but I have got in at last. Aslan is on the move. The Witch's
magic is weakening."
And Lucy felt running through her
that deep shiver of gladness which you only get if you are being solemn and
still.
"And now," said Father Christmas, "for your
presents. There is a new and better sewing machine for you, Mrs Beaver. I will
drop it in your house as, I pass."
"If you please, sir," said
Mrs Beaver, making a curtsey. "It's locked up."
"Locks and bolts make no
difference to me," said Father Christmas. "And as for you, Mr Beaver,
when you get home you will find your dam finished and mended and all the leaks
stopped and a new sluicegate fitted."
Mr Beaver was so pleased that he
opened his mouth very wide and then found he couldn't say anything at all.
"Peter, Adam's Son," said Father Christmas.
"Here, sir," said Peter.
"These are your presents," was the answer, "and
they are tools not toys. The time to use them is perhaps near at hand. Bear
them well." With these words he handed to Peter a shield and a sword. The
shield was the colour of silver and across it there ramped a red lion, as
bright as a ripe strawberry at the moment when you pick it. The hilt of the
sword was of gold and it had a sheath and a sword belt and everything it
needed, and it was just the right size and weight for Peter to use. Peter was
silent and solemn as he received these gifts, for he felt they were a very
serious kind of present.
"Susan, Eve's Daughter," said Father Christmas.
"These are for you," and he handed her a bow and a quiver full of
arrows and a little ivory horn. "You must use the bow only in great
need," he said, "for I do not mean you to fight in the battle. It
does not easily miss. And when you put this horn to your lips; and blow it,
then, wherever you are, I think help of some kind will come to you."
Last of all he said, "Lucy,
Eve's Daughter," and Lucy came forward. He gave her a little bottle of
what looked like glass (but people said afterwards that it was made of diamond)
and a small dagger. "In this bottle," he said, "there is cordial
made of the juice of one of the fireflowers that grow in the mountains of the
sun. If you or any of your friends is hurt, a few drops of this restore them.
And the dagger is to defend yourse at great need. For you also are not to be in
battle."
"Why, sir?" said Lucy.
"I think - I don't know but I think I could be brave enough."
"That is not the point,"
he said. "But battles are ugly when women fight. And now" - here he
suddenly looked less grave - "here is something for the moment for you
all!" and he brought out (I suppose from the big bag at his back, but
nobody quite saw him do it) a large tray containing five cups and saucers, a
bowl of lump sugar, a jug of cream, and a great big teapot all sizzling and
piping hot. Then he cried out "Merry Christmas! Long live the true
King!" and cracked his whip, and he and the reindeer and the sledge and
all were out of sight before anyone realised that they had started.
Peter had just drawn his sword out of its sheath and was showing
it to Mr Beaver, when Mrs Beaver said:
"Now then, now then! Don't
stand talking there till the tea's got cold. Just like men. Come and help to
carry the tray down and we'll have breakfast. What a mercy I thought of
bringing the bread-knife."
So down the steep bank they went and
back to the cave, and Mr Beaver cut some of the bread and ham into sandwiches
and Mrs Beaver poured out the tea and everyone enjoyed themselves. But long
before they had finished enjoying themselves Mr Beaver said, "Time to be
moving on now."
EDMUND meanwhile had been having a
most disappointing time. When the dwarf had gone to get the sledge ready he
expected that the Witch would start being nice to him, as she had been at their
last meeting. But she said nothing at all. And when at last Edmund plucked up
his courage to say, "Please, your Majesty, could I have some Turkish
Delight? You - you - said -" she answered, "Silence, fool!" Then
she appeared to change her mind and said, as if to herself, a "And yet it
will not do to have the brat fainting on the way," and once more clapped
her hands. Another, dwarf appeared.
"Bring the human creature food and drink," she said.
The dwarf went away and presently returned bringing an iron bowl
with some water in it and an iron plate with a hunk of dry bread on it. He
grinned in a repulsive manner as he set them down on the floor beside Edmund
and said:
"Turkish Delight for the little
Prince. Ha! Ha! Ha!"
"Take it away," said
Edmund sulkily. "I don't want dry bread." But the Witch suddenly
turned on him with such a terrible expression on her face that he, apologised
and began to nibble at the bread, though, it was so stale he could hardly get
it down.
"You may be glad enough of it before you taste bread
again," said the Witch.
While he was still chewing away the first dwarf came back and
announced that the sledge was ready. The White Witch rose and went out,
ordering Edmund to go with her. The snow was again falling as they came into
the courtyard, but she took no notice of that and made Edmund sit beside her on
the sledge. But before they drove off she called Maugrim and he came bounding
like an enormous dog to the side of the sledge.
"Take with you the swiftest of your wolves and go at once to
the house of the Beavers," said the Witch, "and kill whatever you
find there. If they are already gone, then make all speed to the Stone Table,
but do not be seen. Wait for me there in hiding. I meanwhile must go many miles
to the West before I find a place where I can drive across the river. You may
overtake these humans before they reach the Stone Table. You will know what to
do if you find them!"
"I hear and obey, O
Queen," growled the Wolf, and immediately he shot away into the snow and
darkness, as quickly as a horse can gallop. In a few minutes he had called
another wolf and was with him down on the dam sniffing at the Beavers' house.
But of course they found it empty. It would have been a dreadful thing for the
Beavers and the children if the night had remained fine, for the wolves would
then have been able to follow their trail - and ten to one would have overtaken
them before they had got to the cave. But now that the snow had begun again the
scent was cold and even the footprints were covered up.
Meanwhile the dwarf whipped up the reindeer, and the Witch and
Edmund drove out under the archway and on and away into the darkness and the
cold. This was a terrible journey for Edmund, who had no coat. Before they had
been going quarter of an hour all the front of him was covered with snow - he
soon stopped trying to shake it off because, as quickly as he did that, a new
lot gathered, and he was so tired. Soon he was wet to the skin. And oh, how
miserable he was! It didn't look now as if the Witch intended to make him a
King. All the things he had said to make himself believe that she was good and
kind and that her side was really the right side sounded to him silly now. He
would have given anything to meet the others at this moment - even Peter! The
only way to comfort himself now was to try to believe that the whole thing was
a dream and that he might wake up at any moment. And as they went on, hour
after hour, it did come to seem like a dream.
This lasted longer than I could describe even if I wrote pages and
pages about it. But I will skip on to the time when the snow had stopped and
the morning had come and they were racing along in the daylight. And still they
went on and on, with no sound but the everlasting swish of the snow and the
creaking of the reindeer's harness. And then at last the Witch said, "What
have we here? Stop!" and they did.
How Edmund hoped she was going to say something about breakfast!
But she had stopped for quite a different reason. A little way off at the foot
of a tree sat a merry party, a squirrel and his wife with their children and
two satyrs and a dwarf and an old dogfox, all on stools round a table. Edmund
couldn't quite see what they were eating, but it smelled lovely and there
seemed to be decorations of holly and he wasn't at all sure that he didn't see
something like a plum pudding. At the moment when the sledge stopped, the Fox,
who was obviously the oldest person present, had just risen to its feet,
holding a glass in its right paw as if it was going to say something. But when
the whole party saw the sledge stopping and who was in it, all the gaiety went
out of their faces. The father squirrel stopped eating with his fork half-way
to his mouth and one of the satyrs stopped with its fork actually in its mouth,
and the baby squirrels squeaked with terror.
"What is the meaning of this?" asked the Witch Queen.
Nobody answered.
"Speak, vermin!" she said again. "Or do you want my
dwarf to find you a tongue with his whip? What is the meaning of all this
gluttony, this waste, this selfindulgence? Where did you get all these
things?"
"Please, your Majesty,"
said the Fox, "we were given them. And if I might make so bold as to drink
your Majesty's very good health - "
"Who gave them to you?"
said the Witch.
"F-F-F-Father Christmas," stammered the Fox.
"What?" roared the Witch, springing from the sledge and
taking a few strides nearer to the terrified animals. "He has not been
here! He cannot have been here! How dare you - but no. Say you have been lying
and you shall even now be forgiven."
At that moment one of the young
squirrels lost its head completely.
"He has - he has - he has!" it squeaked, beating its
little spoon on the table. Edmund saw the Witch bite her lips so that a drop of
blood appeared on her white cheek. Then she raised her wand. "Oh, don't,
don't, please don't," shouted Edmund, but even while he was shouting she
had waved her wand and instantly where the merry party had been there were only
statues of creatures (one with its stone fork fixed forever half-way to its
stone mouth) seated round a stone table on which there were stone plates and a
stone plum pudding.
"As for you," said the Witch, giving Edmund a stunning
blow on the face as she re-mounted the sledge, "let that teach you to ask
favour for spies and traitors. Drive on!" And Edmund for the first time in
this story felt sorry for someone besides himself. It seemed so pitiful to
think of those little stone figures sitting there all the silent days and all
the dark nights, year after year, till the moss grew on them and at last even
their faces crumbled away.
Now they were steadily racing on again. And soon Edmund noticed
that the snow which splashed against them as they rushed through it was much
wetter than it had been all last night. At the same time he noticed that he was
feeling much less cold. It was also becoming foggy. In fact every minute it
grew foggier and warmer. And the sledge was not running nearly as well as it
had been running up till now. At first he thought this was because the reindeer
were tired, but soon he saw that that couldn't be the real reason. The sledge
jerked, and skidded and kept on jolting as if it had struck against stones. And
however the dwarf whipped the poor reindeer the sledge went slower and slower.
There also seemed to be a curious noise all round them, but the noise of their
driving and jolting and the dwarf's shouting at the reindeer prevented Edmund
from hearing what it was, until suddenly the sledge stuck so fast that it
wouldn't go on at all. When that happened there was a moment's silence. And in
that silence Edmund could at last listen to the other noise properly. A
strange, sweet, rustling, chattering noise - and yet not so strange, for he'd
heard it before - if only he could remember where! Then all at once he did
remember. It was the noise of running water. All round them though out of
sight, there were streams, chattering, murmuring, bubbling, splashing and even (in
the distance) roaring. And his heart gave a great leap (though he hardly knew
why) when he realised that the frost was over. And much nearer there was a
drip-drip-drip from the branches of all the trees. And then, as he looked at
one tree he saw a great load of snow slide off it and for the first time since
he had entered Narnia he saw the dark green of a fir tree. But he hadn't time
to listen or watch any longer, for the Witch said:
"Don't sit staring, fool! Get
out and help."
And of course Edmund had to obey. He
stepped out into the snow - but it was really only slush by now - and began
helping the dwarf to get the sledge out of the muddy hole it had got into. They
got it out in the end, and by being very cruel to the reindeer the dwarf
managed to get it on the move again, and they drove a little further. And now
the snow was really melting in earnest and patches of green grass were
beginning to appear in every direction. Unless you have looked at a world of
snow as long as Edmund had been looking at it, you will hardly be able to
imagine what a relief those green patches were after the endless white. Then
the sledge stopped again.
"It's no good, your Majesty," said the dwarf. "We
can't sledge in this thaw."
"Then we must walk," said
the Witch.
"We shall never overtake them walking," growled the
dwarf. "Not with the start they've got."
"Are you my councillor or my
slave?" said the Witch. "Do as you're told. Tie the hands of the
human creature behind it and keep hold of the end of the rope. And take your
whip. And cut the harness of the reindeer; they'll find their own way
home."
The dwarf obeyed, and in a few
minutes Edmund found himself being forced to walk as fast as he could with his
hands tied behind him. He kept on slipping in the slush and mud and wet grass,
and every time he slipped the dwarf gave him a curse and sometimes a flick with
the whip. The Witch walked behind the dwarf and kept on saying, "Faster!
Faster!"
Every moment the patches of green
grew bigger and the patches of spow grew smaller. Every moment more and more of
the trees shook off their robes of snow. Soon, wherever you looked, instead of
white shapes you saw the dark green of firs or the black prickly branches of
bare oaks and beeches and elms. Then the mist turned from white to gold and
presently cleared away altogether. Shafts of delicious sunlight struck down on
to the forest floor and overhead you could see a blue sky between the tree
tops.
Soon there were more wonderful things happening. Coming suddenly
round a corner into a glade of silver birch trees Edmund saw the ground covered
in all directions with little yellow flowers - celandines. The noise of water
grew louder. Presently they actually crossed a stream. Beyond it they found
snowdrops growing.
"Mind your own business!" said the dwarf when he saw
that Edmund had turned his head to look at them; and he gave the rope a vicious
jerk.
But of course this didn't prevent Edmund from seeing. Only five
minutes later he noticed a dozen crocuses growing round the foot of an old tree
- gold and purple and white. Then came a sound even more delicious than the
sound of the water. Close beside the path they were following a bird suddenly
chirped from the branch of a tree. It was answered by the chuckle of another bird
a little further off. And then, as if that had been a signal, there was
chattering and chirruping in every direction, and then a moment of full song,
and within five minutes the whole wood was ringing with birds' music, and
wherever Edmund's eyes turned he saw birds alighting on branches, or sailing
overhead or chasing one another or having their little quarrels or tidying up
their feathers with their beaks.
"Faster! Faster!" said the Witch.
There was no trace of the fog now. The sky became bluer and bluer,
and now there were white clouds hurrying across it from time to time. In the
wide glades there were primroses. A light breeze sprang up which scattered
drops of moisture from the swaying branches and carried cool, delicious scents
against the faces of the travellers. The trees began to come fully alive. The
larches and birches were covered with green, the laburnums with gold. Soon the
beech trees had put forth their delicate, transparent leaves. As the travellers
walked under them the light also became green. A bee buzzed across their path.
"This is no thaw," said the dwarf, suddenly stopping.
"This is Spring. What are we to do? Your winter has been destroyed, I tell
you! This is Aslan's doing."
"If either of you mention that
name again," said the Witch, "he shall instantly be killed."
WHILE the dwarf and the White Witch
were saying this, miles away the Beavers and the children were walking on hour
after hour into what seemed a delicious dream. Long ago they had left the coats
behind them. And by now they had even stopped saying to one another,
"Look! there's a kingfisher," or "I say, bluebells!" or
"What was that lovely smell?" or "Just listen to that
thrush!" They walked on in silence drinking it all in, passing through
patches of warm sunlight into cool, green thickets and out again into wide
mossy glades where tall elms raised the leafy roof far overhead, and then into
dense masses of flowering currant and among hawthorn bushes where the sweet
smell was almost overpowering.
They had been just as surprised as Edmund when they saw the winter
vanishing and the whole wood passing in a few hours or so from January to May.
They hadn't even known for certain (as the Witch did) that this was what would
happen when Aslan came to Narnia. But they all knew that it was her spells
which had produced the endless winter; and therefore they all knew when this
magic spring began that something had gone wrong, and badly wrong, with the
Witch's schemes. And after the thaw had been going on for some time they all
realised that the Witch would no longer be able to use her sledge. After that
they didn't hurry so much and they allowed themselves more rests and longer
ones. They were pretty tired by now of course; but not what I'd call bitterly
tired - only slow and feeling very dreamy and quiet inside as one does when one
is coming to the end of a long day in the open. Susan had a slight blister on
one heel.
They had left the course of the big river some time ago; for one
had to turn a little to the right (that meant a little to the south) to reach
the place of the Stone Table. Even if this had not been their way they couldn't
have kept to the river valley once the thaw began, for with all that melting
snow the river was soon in flood - a wonderful, roaring, thundering yellow
flood - and their path would have been under water.
And now the sun got low and the light got redder and the shadows
got longer and the flowers began to think about closing.
"Not long now," said Mr Beaver, and began leading them
uphill across some very deep, springy moss (it felt nice under their tired
feet) in a place where only tall trees grew, very wide apart. The climb, coming
at the end of the long day, made them all pant and blow. And just as Lucy was
wondering whether she could really get to the top without another long rest,
suddenly they were at the top. And this is what they saw.
They were on a green open space from which you could look down on
the forest spreading as far as one could see in every direction - except right
ahead. There, far to the East, was something twinkling and moving. "By
gum!" whispered Peter to Susan, "the sea!" In the very middle of
this open hill-top was the Stone Table. It was a great grim slab of grey stone
supported on four upright stones. It looked very old; and it was cut all over
with strange lines and figures that might be the letters of an unknown
language. They gave you a curious feeling when you looked at them. The next
thing they saw was a pavilion pitched on one side of the open place. A
wonderful pavilion it was - and especially now when the light of the setting
sun fell upon it - with sides of what looked like yellow silk and cords of
crimson and tent-pegs of ivory; and high above it on a pole a banner which bore
a red rampant lion fluttering in the breeze which was blowing in their faces
from the far-off sea. While they were looking at this they heard a sound of
music on their right; and turning in that direction they saw what they had come
to see.
Aslan stood in the centre of a crowd of creatures who had grouped
themselves round him in the shape of a half-moon. There were Tree-Women there
and Well-Women (Dryads and Naiads as they used to be called in our world) who
had stringed instruments; it was they who had made the music. There were four
great centaurs. The horse part of them was like huge English farm horses, and
the man part was like stern but beautiful giants. There was also a unicorn, and
a bull with the head of a man, and a pelican, and an eagle, and a great Dog.
And next to Aslan stood two leopards of whom one carried his crown and the
other his standard.
But as for Aslan himself, the Beavers and the children didn't know
what to do or say when they saw him. People who have not been in Narnia
sometimes think that a thing cannot be good and terrible at the same time. If
the children had ever thought so, they were cured of it now. For when they
tried to look at Aslan's face they just caught a glimpse of the golden mane and
the great, royal, solemn, overwhelming eyes; and then they found they couldn't
look at him and went all trembly.
"Go on," whispered Mr Beaver.
"No," whispered Peter, "you first."
"No, Sons of Adam before
animals," whispered Mr Beaver back again.
"Susan," whispered Peter, "What about you? Ladies
first."
"No, you're the eldest,"
whispered Susan. And of course the longer they went on doing this the more
awkward they felt. Then at last Peter realised that it was up to him. He drew
his sword and raised it to the salute and hastily saying to the others
"Come on. Pull yourselves together," he advanced to the Lion and
said:
"We have come - Aslan."
"Welcome, Peter, Son of
Adam," said Aslan. "Welcome, Susan and Lucy, Daughters of Eve. Welcome
He-Beaver and She-Beaver."
His voice was deep and rich and
somehow took the fidgets out of them. They now felt glad and quiet and it
didn't seem awkward to them to stand and say nothing.
"But where is the fourth?" asked Aslan.
"He has tried to betray them and joined the White Witch, O
Aslan," said Mr Beaver. And then something made Peter say,
"That was partly my fault,
Aslan. I was angry with him and I think that helped him to go wrong."
And Aslan said nothing either to
excuse Peter or to blame him but merely stood looking at him with his great
unchanging eyes. And it seemed to all of them that there was nothing to be
said.
"Please - Aslan," said Lucy, "can anything be done
to save Edmund?"
"All shall be done," said
Aslan. "But it may be harder than you think." And then he was silent
again for some time. Up to that moment Lucy had been thinking how royal and
strong and peaceful his face looked; now it suddenly came into her head that he
looked sad as well. But next minute that expression was quite gone. The Lion
shook his mane and clapped his paws together ("Terrible paws,"
thought Lucy, "if he didn't know how to velvet them!") and said,
"Meanwhile, let the feast be
prepared. Ladies, take these Daughters of Eve to the pavilion and minister to
them."
When the girls had gone Aslan laid
his paw - and though it was velveted it was very heavy - on Peter's shoulder
and said, "Come, Son of Adam, and I will show you a far-off sight of the
castle where you are to be King."
And Peter with his sword still drawn
in his hand went with the Lion to the eastern edge of the hilltop. There a
beautiful sight met their eyes. The sun was setting behind their backs. That
meant that the whole country below them lay in the evening light - forest and hills
and valleys and, winding away like a silver snake, the lower part of the great
river. And beyond all this, miles away, was the sea, and beyond the sea the
sky, full of clouds which were just turning rose colour with the reflection of
the sunset. But just where the land of Narnia met the sea - in fact, at the
mouth of the great river - there was something on a little hill, shining. It
was shining because it was a castle and of course the sunlight was reflected
from all the windows which looked towards Peter and the sunset; but to Peter it
looked like a great star resting on the seashore.
"That, O Man," said Aslan, "is Cair Paravel of the
four thrones, in one of which you must sit as King. I show it to you because
you are the first-born and you will be High King over all the rest."
And once more Peter said nothing,
for at that moment a strange noise woke the silence suddenly. It was like a
bugle, but richer.
"It is your sister's horn," said Aslan to Peter in a low
voice; so low as to be almost a purr, if it is not disrespectful to think of a
Lion purring.
For a moment Peter did not understand. Then, when he saw all the
other creatures start forward and heard Aslan say with a wave of his paw,
"Back! Let the Prince win his spurs," he did understand, and set off
running as hard as he could to the pavilion. And there he saw a dreadful sight.
The Naiads and Dryads were scattering in every direction. Lucy was
running towards him as fast as her short legs would carry her and her face was
as white as paper. Then he saw Susan make a dash for a tree, and swing herself
up, followed by a huge grey beast. At first Peter thought it was a bear. Then
he saw that it looked like an Alsatian, though it was far too big to be a dog.
Then he realised that it was a wolf - a wolf standing on its hind legs, with
its front paws against the tree-trunk, snapping and snarling. All the hair on
its back stood up on end. Susan had not been able to get higher than the second
big branch. One of her legs hung down so that her foot was only an inch or two
above the snapping teeth. Peter wondered why she did not get higher or at least
take a better grip; then he realised that she was just going to faint and that
if she fainted she would fall off.
Peter did not feel very brave; indeed, he felt he was going to be
sick. But that made no difference to what he had to do. He rushed straight up
to the monster and aimed a slash of his sword at its side. That stroke never
reached the Wolf. Quick as lightning it turned round, its eyes flaming, and its
mouth wide open in a howl of anger. If it had not been so angry that it simply
had to howl it would have got him by the throat at once. As it was - though all
this happened too quickly for Peter to think at all - he had just time to duck
down and plunge his sword, as hard as he could, between the brute's forelegs
into its heart. Then came a horrible, confused moment like something in a
nightmare. He was tugging and pulling and the Wolf seemed neither alive nor
dead, and its bared teeth knocked against his forehead, and everything was
blood and heat and hair. A moment later he found that the monster lay dead and
he had drawn his sword out of it and was straightening his back and rubbing the
sweat off his face and out of his eyes. He felt tired all over.
Then, after a bit, Susan came down the tree. She and Peter felt
pretty shaky when they met and I won't say there wasn't kissing and crying on
both sides. But in Narnia no one thinks any the worse of you for that.
"Quick! Quick!" shouted the voice of Aslan.
"Centaurs! Eagles! I see another wolf in the thickets. There - behind you.
He has just darted away. After him, all of you. He will be going to his
mistress. Now is your chance to find the Witch and rescue the fourth Son of
Adam." And instantly with a thunder of hoofs and beating of wings a dozen
or so of the swiftest creatures disappeared into the gathering darkness.
Peter, still out of breath, turned and saw Aslan close at hand.
"You have forgotten to clean your sword," said Aslan.
It was true. Peter blushed when he looked at the bright blade and
saw it all smeared with the Wolf's hair and blood. He stooped down and wiped it
quite clean on the grass, and then wiped it quite dry on his coat.
"Hand it to me and kneel, Son of Adam," said Aslan. And
when Peter had done so he struck him with the flat of the blade and said,
"Rise up, Sir Peter Wolf's-Bane. And, whatever happens, never forget to
wipe your sword."
Now we must get back to Edmund. When
he had been made to walk far further than he had ever known that anybody could
walk, the Witch at last halted in a dark valley all overshadowed with fir trees
and yew trees. Edmund simply sank down and lay on his face doing nothing at all
and not even caring what was going to happen next provided they would let him
lie still. He was too tired even to notice how hungry and thirsty he was. The
Witch and the dwarf were talking close beside him in low tones.
"No," said the dwarf, "it is no use now, O Queen.
They must have reached the Stone Table by now."
"Perhaps the Wolf will smell us
out and bring us news," said the Witch.
"It cannot be good news if he does," said the dwarf.
"Four thrones in Cair Paravel," said the Witch.
"How if only three were filled? That would not fulfil the prophecy."
"What difference would that
make now that He is here?" said the dwarf. He did not dare, even now, to
mention the name of Aslan to his mistress.
"He may not stay long. And then - we would fall upon the
three at Cair."
"Yet it might be better,"
said the dwarf, "to keep this one" (here he kicked Edmund) "for
bargaining with."
"Yes! and have him
rescued," said the Witch scornfully.
"Then," said the dwarf, "we had better do what we
have to do at once."
"I would like to have it done
on the Stone Table itself," said the Witch. "That is the proper
place. That is where it has always been done before."
"It will be a long time now
before the Stone Table can again be put to its proper use," said the
dwarf.
"True," said the Witch; and then, "Well, I will
begin."
At that moment with a rush and a
snarl a Wolf rushed up to them.
"I have seen them. They are all at the Stone Table, with Him.
They have killed my captain, Maugrim. I was hidden in the thickets and saw it
all. One of the Sons of Adam killed him. Fly! Fly!"
"No," said the Witch.
"There need be no flying. Go quickly. Summon all our people to meet me
here as speedily as they can. Call out the giants and the werewolves and the
spirits of those trees who are on our side. Call the Ghouls, and the Boggles,
the Ogres and the Minotaurs. Call the Cruels, the Hags, the Spectres, and the
people of the Toadstools. We will fight. What? Have I not still my wand? Will
not their ranks turn into stone even as they come on? Be off quickly, I have a
little thing to finish here while you are away."
The great brute bowed its head,
turned, and galloped away.
"Now!" she said, "we have no table - let me see. We
had better put it against the trunk of a tree."
Edmund found himself being roughly
forced to his feet. Then the dwarf set him with his back against a tree and
bound him fast. He saw the Witch take off her outer mantle. Her arms were bare
underneath it and terribly white. Because they were so very white he could see
them, but he could not see much else, it was so dark in this valley under the
dark trees.
"Prepare the victim,", said the Witch. And the dwarf
undid Edmund's collar and folded back his shirt at the neck. Then he took
Edmund's hair and pulled his head back so that he had to raise his chin. After
that Edmund heard a strange noise - whizz whizz - whizz. For a moment he
couldn't think what it was. Then he realised. It was the sound of a knife being
sharpened.
At that very moment he heard loud shouts from every direction - a
drumming of hoofs and a beating of wings - a scream from the Witch - confusion
all round him. And then he found he was being untied. Strong arms were round
him and he heard big, kind voices saying things like -
"Let him lie down - give him
some wine - drink this - steady now - you'll be all right in a minute."
Then he heard the voices of people
who were not talking to him but to one another. And they were saying things
like "Who's got the Witch?" "I thought you had her."
"I didn't see her after I knocked the knife out of her hand - I was after
the dwarf - do you mean to say she's escaped?" "- A chap can't mind
everything at once - what's that? Oh, sorry, it's only an old stump!" But
just at this point Edmund went off in a dead faint.
Presently the centaurs and unicorns and deer and birds (they were
of course the rescue party which Aslan had sent in the last chapter) all set
off to go back to the Stone Table, carrying Edmund with them. But if they could
have seen what happened in that valley after they had gone, I think they might
have been surprised.
It was perfectly still and presently the moon grew bright; if you
had been there you would have seen the moonlight shining on an old tree-stump
and on a fairsised boulder. But if you had gone on looking you would gradually
have begun to think there was something odd about both the stump and the
boulder. And next you would have thought that the stump did look really
remarkably like a little fat man crouching on the ground. And if you had watched
long enough you would have seen the stump walk across to the boulder and the
boulder sit up and begin talking to the stump; for in reality the stump and the
boulder were simply the Witch and the dwarf. For it was part of her magic that
she could make things look like what they aren't, and she had the presence of
mind to do so at the very moment when the knife was knocked out of her hand.
She had kept hold of her wand, so it had been kept safe, too.
When the other children woke up next morning (they had been
sleeping on piles of cushions in the pavilion) the first thing they heard -from
Mrs Beaver - was that their brother had been rescued and brought into camp late
last night; and was at that moment with Aslan. As soon as they had breakfasted4
they all went out, and there they saw Aslan and Edmund walking together in the
dewy grass, apart from the rest of the court. There is no need to tell you (and
no one ever heard) what Aslan was saying, but it was a conversation which
Edmund never forgot. As the others drew nearer Aslan turned to meet them,
bringing Edmund with him.
"Here is your brother," he said, "and - there is no
need to talk to him about what is past."
Edmund shook hands with each of the
others and said to each of them in turn, "I'm sorry," and everyone
said, "That's all right." And then everyone wanted very hard to say
something which would make it quite clear that they were all friends with him
again -something ordinary and natural -and of course no one could think of
anything in the world to say. But before they had time to feel really awkward
one of the leopards approached Aslan and said,
"Sire, there is a messenger
from the enemy who craves audience."
"Let him approach," said
Aslan.
The leopard went away and soon returned leading the Witch's dwarf.
"What is your message, Son of Earth?" asked Aslan.
"The Queen of Narnia and Empress of the Lone Islands desires
a safe conduct to come and speak with you," said the dwarf, "on a
matter which is as much to your advantage as to hers."
"Queen of Narnia, indeed!"
said Mr Beaver. "Of all the cheek -"
"Peace, Beaver," said
Aslan. "All names will soon be restored to their proper owners. In the
meantime we will not dispute about them. Tell your mistress, Son of Earth, that
I grant her safe conduct on condition that she leaves her wand behind her at
that great oak."
This was agreed to and two leopards
went back with the dwarf to see that the conditions were properly carried out.
"But supposing she turns the two leopards into stone?" whispered Lucy
to Peter. I think the same idea had occurred to the leopards themselves; at any
rate, as they walked off their fur was all standing up on their backs and their
tails were bristling - like a cat's when it sees a strange dog.
"It'll be all right," whispered Peter in reply. "He
wouldn't send them if it weren't."
A few minutes later the Witch
herself walked out on to the top of the hill and came straight across and stood
before Aslan. The three children who had not seen her before felt shudders
running down their backs at the sight of her face; and there were low growls
among all the animals present. Though it was bright sunshine everyone felt
suddenly cold. The only two people present who seemed to be quite at their ease
were Aslan and the Witch herself. It was the oddest thing to see those two
faces - the golden face and the dead-white face so close together. Not that the
Witch looked Aslan exactly in his eyes; Mrs Beaver particularly noticed this.
"You have a traitor there, Aslan," said the Witch. Of
course everyone present knew that she meant Edmund. But Edmund had got past
thinking about himself after all he'd been through and after the talk he'd had
that morning. He just went on looking at Aslan. It didn't seem to matter what
the Witch said.
"Well," said Aslan. "His offence was not against
you."
"Have you forgotten the Deep
Magic?" asked the Witch.
"Let us say I have forgotten it," answered Aslan
gravely. "Tell us of this Deep Magic."
"Tell you?" said the
Witch, her voice growing suddenly shriller. "Tell you what is written on
that very Table of Stone which stands beside us? Tell you what is written in
letters deep as a spear is long on the firestones on the Secret Hill? Tell you
what is engraved on the sceptre of the Emperor-beyond-the-Sea? You at least
know the Magic which the Emperor put into Narnia at the very beginning. You
know that every traitor belongs to me as my lawful prey and that for every
treachery I have a right to a kill."
"Oh," said Mr Beaver.
"So that's how you came to imagine yourself a queen - because you were the
Emperor's hangman. I see."
"Peace, Beaver," said
Aslan, with a very low growl. "And so," continued the Witch,
"that human creature is mine. His life is forfeit to me. His blood is my
property."
"Come and take it then,"
said the Bull with the man's head in a great bellowing voice.
"Fool," said the Witch with a savage smile that was
almost a snarl, "do you really think your master can rob me of my rights
by mere force? He knows the Deep Magic better than that. He knows that unless I
have blood as the Law says all Narnia will be overturned and perish in fire and
water."
"It is very true," said
Aslan, "I do not deny it."
"Oh, Aslan!" whispered
Susan in the Lion's ear, "can't we - I mean, you won't, will you? Can't we
do something about the Deep Magic? Isn't there something you can work against
it?"
"Work against the Emperor's
Magic?" said Aslan, turning to her with something like a frown on his
face. And nobody ever made that suggestion to him again.
Edmund was on the other side of Aslan, looking all the time at
Aslan's face. He felt a choking feeling and wondered if he ought to say
something; but a moment later he felt that he was not expected to do anything except
to wait, and do what he was told.
"Fall back, all of you," said Aslan, "and I will
talk to the Witch alone."
They all obeyed. It was a terrible
time this - waiting and wondering while the Lion and the Witch talked earnestly
together in low voices. Lucy said, "Oh, Edmund!" and began to cry.
Peter stood with his back to the others looking out at the distant sea. The
Beavers stood holding each other's paws with their heads bowed. The centaurs
stamped uneasily with their hoofs. But everyone became perfectly still in the
end, so that you noticed even small sounds like a bumble-bee flying past, or
the birds in the forest down below them, or the wind rustling the leaves. And
still the talk between Aslan and the White Witch went on.
At last they heard Aslan's voice, "You can all come
back," he said. "I have settled the matter. She has renounced the
claim on your brother's blood." And all over the hill there was a noise as
if everyone had been holding their breath and had now begun breathing again,
and then a murmur of talk.
The Witch was just turning away with a look of fierce joy on her
face when she stopped and said,
"But how do I know this promise
will be kept?"
"Haa-a-arrh!" roared
Aslan, half rising from his throne; and his great mouth opened wider and wider
and the roar grew louder and louder, and the Witch, after staring for a moment
with her lips wide apart, picked up her skirts and fairly ran for her life.
As soon as the Witch had gone Aslan
said, "We must move from this place at once, it will be wanted for other
purposes. We shall encamp tonight at the Fords of Beruna.
Of course everyone was dying to ask him how he had arranged
matters with the witch; but his face was stern and everyone's ears were still
ringing with the sound of his roar and so nobody dared.
After a meal, which was taken in the open air on the hill-top (for
the sun had got strong by now and dried the grass), they were busy for a while
taking the pavilion down and packing things up. Before two o'clock they were on
the march and set off in a northeasterly direction, walking at an easy pace for
they had not far to go.
During the first part of the journey Aslan explained to Peter his
plan of campaign. "As soon as she has finished her business in these parts,"
he said, "the Witch and her crew will almost certainly fall back to her
House and prepare for a siege. You may or may not be able to cut her off and
prevent her from reaching it." He then went on to outline two plans of
battle - one for fighting the Witch and her people in the wood and another for
assaulting her castle. And all the time he was advising Peter how to conduct
the operations, saying things like, "You must put your Centaurs in such
and such a place" or "You must post scouts to see that she doesn't do
so-and-so," till at last Peter said,
"But you will be there
yourself, Aslan."
"I can give you no promise of
that," answered the Lion. And he continued giving Peter his instructions.
For the last part of the journey it was Susan and Lucy who saw
most of him. He did not talk very much and seemed to them to be sad.
It was still afternoon when they came down to a place where the
river valley had widened out and the river was broad and shallow. This was the
Fords of Beruna and Aslan gave orders to halt on this side of the water. But
Peter said,
"Wouldn't it be better to camp
on the far side - for fear she should try a night attack or anything?"
Aslan, who seemed to have been thinking
about something else, roused himself with a shake of his magnificent mane and
said, "Eh? What's that?" Peter said it all over again.
"No," said Aslan in a dull voice, as if it didn't
matter. "No. She will not make an attack to-night." And then he
sighed deeply. But presently he added, "All the same it was well thought
of. That is how a soldier ought to think. But it doesn't really matter."
So they proceeded to pitch their camp.
Aslan's mood affected everyone that evening. Peter was feeling
uncomfortable too at the idea of fighting the battle on his own; the news that
Aslan might not be there had come as a great shock to him. Supper that evening
was a quiet meal. Everyone felt how different it had been last night or even
that morning. It was as if the good times, having just begun, were already
drawing to their end.
This feeling affected Susan so much that she couldn't get to sleep
when she went to bed. And after she had lain counting sheep and turning over
and over she heard Lucy give a long sigh and turn over just beside her in the
darkness.
"Can't you get to sleep either?" said Susan.
"No," said Lucy. "I thought you were asleep. I say,
Susan!"
"What?"
"I've a most Horrible feeling -
as if something were hanging over us."
"Have you? Because, as a matter
of fact, so have I."
"Something about Aslan,"
said Lucy. "Either some dreadful thing is going to happen to him, or
something dreadful that he's going to do."
"There's been something wrong
with him all afternoon," said Susan. "Lucy! What was that he said
about not being with us at the battle? You don't think he could be stealing
away and leaving us tonight, do you?"
"Where is he now?" said
Lucy. "Is he here in the pavilion?"
"I don't think so."
"Susan! let's go outside and
have a look round. We might see him."
"All right. Let's," said
Susan; "we might just as well be doing that as lying awake here."
Very quietly the two girls groped
their way among the other sleepers and crept out of the tent. The moonlight was
bright and everything was quite still except for the noise of the river
chattering over the stones. Then Susan suddenly caught Lucy's arm and said,
"Look!" On the far side of the camping ground, just where the trees
began, they saw the Lion slowly walking away from them into the wood. Without a
word they both followed him.
He led them up the steep slope out of the river valley and then
slightly to the right - apparently by the very same route which they had used
that afternoon in coming from the Hill of the Stone Table. On and on he led
them, into dark shadows and out into pale moonlight, getting their feet wet
with the heavy dew. He looked somehow different from the Aslan they knew. His
tail and his head hung low and he walked slowly as if he were very, very tired.
Then, when they were crossing a wide open place where there where no shadows
for them to hide in, he stopped and looked round. It was no good trying to run
away so they came towards him. When they were closer he said,
"Oh, children, children, why
are you following me?"
"We couldn't sleep," said
Lucy - and then felt sure that she need say no more and that Aslan knew all
they had been thinking.
"Please, may we come with you - wherever you're going?"
asked Susan.
"Well -" said Aslan, and seemed to be thinking. Then he
said, "I should be glad of company tonight. Yes, you may come, if you will
promise to stop when I tell you, and after that leave me to go on alone."
"Oh, thank you, thank you. And
we will," said the two girls.
Forward they went again and one of the girls walked on each side
of the Lion. But how slowly he walked! And his great, royal head drooped so
that his nose nearly touched the grass. Presently he stumbled and gave a low
moan.
"Aslan! Dear Aslan!" said Lucy, "what is wrong?
Can't you tell us?"
"Are you ill, dear Aslan?"
asked Susan.
"No," said Aslan. "I am sad and lonely. Lay your
hands on my mane so that I can feel you are there and let us walk like
that."
And so the girls did what they would
never have dared to do without his permission, but what they had longed to do
ever since they first saw him buried their cold hands in the beautiful sea of
fur and stroked it and, so doing, walked with him. And presently they saw that
they were going with him up the slope of the hill on which the Stone Table
stood. They went up at the side where the trees came furthest up, and when they
got to the last tree (it was one that had some bushes about it) Aslan stopped
and said,
"Oh, children, children. Here
you must stop. And whatever happens, do not let yourselves be seen.
Farewell."
And both the girls cried bitterly
(though they hardly knew why) and clung to the Lion and kissed his mane and his
nose and his paws and his great, sad eyes. Then he turned from them and walked out
on to the top of the hill. And Lucy and Susan, crouching in the bushes, looked
after him, and this is what they saw.
A great crowd of people were standing all round the Stone Table
and though the moon was shining many of them carried torches which burned with
evil-looking red flames and black smoke. But such people! Ogres with monstrous
teeth, and wolves, and bull-headed men; spirits of evil trees and poisonous
plants; and other creatures whom I won't describe because if I did the grownups
would probably not let you read this book - Cruels and Hags and Incubuses,
Wraiths, Horrors, Efreets, Sprites, Orknies, Wooses, and Ettins. In fact here
were all those who were on the Witch's side and whom the Wolf had summoned at
her command. And right in the middle, standing by the Table, was the Witch
herself.
A howl and a gibber of dismay went up from the creatures when they
first saw the great Lion pacing towards them, and for a moment even the Witch
seemed to be struck with fear. Then she recovered herself and gave a wild
fierce laugh.
"The fool!" she cried. "The fool has come. Bind him
fast."
Lucy and Susan held their breaths
waiting for Aslan's roar and his spring upon his enemies. But it never came.
Four Hags, grinning and leering, yet also (at first) hanging back and half
afraid of what they had to do, had approached him. "Bind him, I say!"
repeated the White Witch. The Hags made a dart at him and shrieked with triumph
when they found that he made no resistance at all. Then others - evil dwarfs
and apes - rushed in to help them, and between them they rolled the huge Lion
over on his back and tied all his four paws together, shouting and cheering as
if they had done something brave, though, had the Lion chosen, one of those
paws could have been the death of them all. But he made no noise, even when the
enemies, straining and tugging, pulled the cords so tight that they cut into
his flesh. Then they began to drag him towards the Stone Table.
"Stop!" said the Witch. "Let him first be
shaved."
Another roar of mean laughter went
up from her followers as an ogre with a pair of shears came forward and
squatted down by Aslan's head. Snip-snip-snip went the shears and masses of
curling gold began to fall to the ground. Then the ogre stood back and the
children, watching from their hiding-place, could see the face of Aslan looking
all small and different without its mane. The enemies also saw the difference.
"Why, he's only a great cat after all!" cried one.
"Is that what we were afraid of?" said another.
And they surged round Aslan, jeering at him, saying things like
"Puss, Puss! Poor Pussy," and "How many mice have you caught
today, Cat?" and "Would you like a saucer of milk, Pussums?"
"Oh, how can they?" said
Lucy, tears streaming down her cheeks. "The brutes, the brutes!" for
now that the first shock was over the shorn face of Aslan looked to her braver,
and more beautiful, and more patient than ever.
"Muzzle him!" said the Witch. And even now, as they
worked about his face putting on the muzzle, one bite from his jaws would have
cost two or three of them their hands. But he never moved. And this seemed to
enrage all that rabble. Everyone was at him now. Those who had been afraid to
come near him even after he was bound began to find their courage, and for a
few minutes the two girls could not even see him - so thickly was he surrounded
by the whole crowd of creatures kicking him, hitting him, spitting on him,
jeering at him.
At last the rabble had had enough of this. They began to drag the
bound and muzzled Lion to the Stone Table, some pulling and some pushing. He
was so huge that even when they got him there it took all their efforts to
hoist him on to the surface of it. Then there was more tying and tightening of
cords.
"The cowards! The cowards!" sobbed Susan. "Are they
still afraid of him, even now?"
When once Aslan had been tied (and
tied so that he was really a mass of cords) on the flat stone, a hush fell on
the crowd. Four Hags, holding four torches, stood at the corners of the Table.
The Witch bared her arms as she had bared them the previous night when it had
been Edmund instead of Aslan. Then she began to whet her knife. It looked to
the children, when the gleam of the torchlight fell on it, as if the knife were
made of stone, not of steel, and it was of a strange and evil shape.
As last she drew near. She stood by Aslan's head. Her face was
working and twitching with passion, but his looked up at the sky, still quiet, neither
angry nor afraid, but a little sad. Then, just before she gave the blow, she
stooped down and said in a quivering voice,
"And now, who has won? Fool,
did you think that by all this you would save the human traitor? Now I will
kill you instead of him as our pact was and so the Deep Magic will be appeased.
But when you are dead what will prevent me from killing him as well? And who
will take him out of my hand then? Understand that you have given me Narnia
forever, you have lost your own life and you have not saved his. In that
knowledge, despair and die."
The children did not see the actual
moment of the killing. They couldn't bear to look and had covered their eyes.
WHILE the two girls still crouched
in the bushes with their hands over their faces, they heard the voice of the
Witch calling out,
"Now! Follow me all and we will
set about what remains of this war! It will not take us long to crush the human
vermin and the traitors now that the great Fool, the great Cat, lies
dead."
At this moment the children were for
a few seconds in very great danger. For with wild cries and a noise of skirling
pipes and shrill horns blowing, the whole of that vile rabble came sweeping off
the hill-top and down the slope right past their hiding-place. They felt the
Spectres go by them like a cold wind and they felt the ground shake beneath
them under the galloping feet of the Minotaurs; and overhead there went a
flurry of foul wings and a blackness of vultures and giant bats. At any other
time they would have trembled with fear; but now the sadness and shame and
horror of Aslan's death so filled their minds that they hardly thought of it.
As soon as the wood was silent again Susan and Lucy crept out onto
the open hill-top. The moon was getting low and thin clouds were passing across
her, but still they could see the shape of the Lion lying dead in his bonds.
And down they both knelt in the wet grass and kissed his cold face and stroked
his beautiful fur - what was left of it - and cried till they could cry no
more. And then they looked at each other and held each other's hands for mere
loneliness and cried again; and then again were silent. At last Lucy said,
"I can't bear to look at that
horrible muzzle. I wonder could we take if off?"
So they tried. And after a lot of
working at it (for their fingers were cold and it was now the darkest part of
the night) they succeeded. And when they saw his face without it they burst out
crying again and kissed it and fondled it and wiped away the blood and the foam
as well as they could. And it was all more lonely and hopeless and horrid than
I know how to describe.
"I wonder could we untie him as well?" said Susan
presently. But the enemies, out of pure spitefulness, had drawn the cords so
tight that the girls could make nothing of the knots.
I hope no one who reads this book has been quite as miserable as
Susan and Lucy were that night; but if you have been - if you've been up all
night and cried till you have no more tears left in you - you will know that
there comes in the end a sort of quietness. You feel as if nothing was ever
going to happen again. At any rate that was how it felt to these two. Hours and
hours seemed to go by in this dead calm, and they hardly noticed that they were
getting colder and colder. But at last Lucy noticed two other things. One was
that the sky on the east side of the hill was a little less dark than it had
been an hour ago. The other was some tiny movement going on in the grass at her
feet. At first she took no interest in this. What did it matter? Nothing
mattered now! But at last she saw that whatever-it-was had begun to move up the
upright stones of the Stone Table. And now whatever-they-were were moving about
on Aslan's body. She peered closer. They were little grey things.
"Ugh!" said Susan from the other side of the Table.
"How beastly! There are horrid little mice crawling over him. Go away, you
little beasts." And she raised her hand to frighten them away.
"Wait!" said Lucy, who had been looking at them more
closely still. "Can you see what they're doing?"
Both girls bent down and stared.
"I do believe -" said Susan. "But how queer!
They're nibbling away at the cords!"
"That's what I thought,"
said Lucy. "I think they're friendly mice. Poor little things - they don't
realize he's dead. They think it'll do some good untying him."
It was quite definitely lighter by
now. Each of the girls noticed for the first time the white face of the other.
They could see the mice nibbling away; dozens and dozens, even hundreds, of
little field mice. And at last, one by one, the ropes were all gnawed through.
The sky in the east was whitish by now and the stars were getting
fainter - all except one very big one low down on the eastern horizon. They
felt colder than they had been all night. The mice crept away again.
The girls cleared away the remains of the gnawed ropes. Aslan
looked more like himself without them. Every moment his dead face looked
nobler, as the light grew and they could see it better.
In the wood behind them a bird gave a chuckling sound. It had been
so still for hours and hours that it startled them. Then another bird answered
it. Soon there were birds singing all over the place.
It was quite definitely early morning now, not late night.
"I'm so cold," said Lucy.
"So am I," said Susan. "Let's walk about a
bit."
They walked to the eastern edge of
the hill and looked down. The one big star had almost disappeared. The country
all looked dark grey, but beyond, at the very end of the world, the sea showed
pale. The sky began to turn red. They walked to ands fro more times than they
could count between the dead Aslan and the eastern ridge, trying to keep warm;
and oh, how tired their legs felt. Then at last, as they stood for a moment
looking out towards they sea and Cair Paravel (which they could now just make
out) the red turned to gold along the line where the sea and the sky met and
very slowly up came the edge of the sun. At that moment they heard from behind
them a loud noise - a great cracking, deafening noise as if a giant had broken
a giant's plate.
"What's that?" said Lucy, clutching Susan's arm.
"I - I feel afraid to turn round," said Susan;
"something awful is happening."
"They're doing something worse
to Him," said Lucy. "Come on!" And she turned, pulling Susan
round with her.
The rising of the sun had made everything look so different - all
colours and shadows were changed that for a moment they didn't see the important
thing. Then they did. The Stone Table was broken into two pieces by a great
crack that ran down it from end to end; and there was no Aslan.
"Oh, oh, oh!" cried the two girls, rushing back to the
Table.
"Oh, it's too bad," sobbed Lucy; "they might have
left the body alone."
"Who's done it?" cried
Susan. "What does it mean? Is it magic?"
"Yes!" said a great voice
behind their backs. "It is more magic." They looked round. There,
shining in the sunrise, larger than they had seen him before, shaking his mane
(for it had apparently grown again) stood Aslan himself.
"Oh, Aslan!" cried both the children, staring up at him,
almost as much frightened as they were glad.
"Aren't you dead then, dear Aslan?" said Lucy.
"Not now," said Aslan.
"You're not - not a - ?" asked Susan in a shaky voice.
She couldn't bring herself to say the word ghost. Aslan stooped his golden head
and licked her forehead. The warmth of his breath and a rich sort of smell that
seemed to hang about his hair came all over her.
"Do I look it?" he said.
"Oh, you're real, you're real! Oh, Aslan!" cried Lucy,
and both girls flung themselves upon him and covered him with kisses.
"But what does it all mean?" asked Susan when they were
somewhat calmer.
"It means," said Aslan, "that though the Witch knew
the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know: Her
knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time. But if she could have looked a
little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned,
she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that
when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's
stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backwards.
And now -"
"Oh yes. Now?" said Lucy,
jumping up and clapping her hands.
"Oh, children," said the Lion, "I feel my strength
coming back to me. Oh, children, catch me if you can!" He stood for a
second, his eyes very bright, his limbs quivering, lashing himself with his
tail. Then he made a leap high over their heads and landed on the other side of
the Table. Laughing, though she didn't know why, Lucy scrambled over it to
reach him. Aslan leaped again. A mad chase began. Round and round the hill-top
he led them, now hopelessly out of their reach, now letting them almost catch
his tail, now diving between them, now tossing them in the air with his huge
and beautifully velveted paws and catching them again, and now stopping
unexpectedly so that all three of them rolled over together in a happy laughing
heap of fur and arms and legs. It was such a romp as no one has ever had except
in Narnia; and whether it was more like playing with a thunderstorm or playing
with a kitten Lucy could never make up her mind. And the funny thing was that
when all three finally lay together panting in the sun the girls no longer felt
in the least tired or hungry or thirsty.
"And now," said Aslan presently, "to business. I
feel I am going to roar. You had better put your fingers in your ears."
And they did. And Aslan stood up and
when he opened his mouth to roar his face became so terrible that they did not
dare to look at it. And they saw all the trees in front of him bend before the
blast of his roaring as grass bends in a meadow before the wind. Then he said,
"We have a long journey to go.
You must ride on me." And he crouched down and the children climbed on to
his warm, golden back, and Susan sat first, holding on tightly to his mane and
Lucy sat behind holding on tightly to Susan. And with a great heave he rose
underneath them and then shot off, faster than any horse could go, down hill
and into the thick of the forest.
That ride was perhaps the most wonderful thing that happened to
them in Narnia. Have you ever had a gallop on a horse? Think of that; and then
take away the heavy noise of the hoofs and the jingle of the bits and imagine
instead the almost noiseless padding of the great paws. Then imagine instead of
the black or grey or chestnut back of the horse the soft roughness of golden
fur, and the mane flying back in the wind. And then imagine you are going about
twice as fast as the fastest racehorse. But this is a mount that doesn't need
to be guided and never grows tired. He rushes on and on, never missing his
footing, never hesitating, threading his way with perfect skill between tree
trunks, jumping over bush and briar and the smaller streams, wading the larger,
swimming the largest of all. And you are riding not on a road nor in a park nor
even on the downs, but right across Narnia, in spring, down solemn avenues of
beech and across sunny glades of oak, through wild orchards of snow-white
cherry trees, past roaring waterfalls and mossy rocks and echoing caverns, up windy
slopes alight with gorse bushes, and across the shoulders of heathery mountains
and along giddy ridges and down, down, down again into wild valleys and out
into acres of blue flowers.
It was nearly midday when they found themselves looking down a
steep hillside at a castle - a little toy castle it looked from where they
stood - which seemed to be all pointed towers. But the Lion was rushing down at
such a speed that it grew larger every moment and before they had time even to
ask themselves what it was they were already on a level with it. And now it no
longer looked like a toy castle but rose frowning in front of them. No face
looked over the battlements and the gates were fast shut. And Aslan, not at all
slacking his pace, rushed straight as a bullet towards it.
"The Witch's home!" he cried. "Now, children, hold
tight."
Next moment the whole world seemed
to turn upside down, and the children felt as if they had left their insides
behind them; for the Lion had gathered himself together for a greater leap than
any he had yet made and jumped - or you may call it flying rather than jumping
- right over the castle wall. The two girls, breathless but unhurt, found
themselves tumbling off his back in the middle of a wide stone courtyard full
of statues.
"WHAT an extraordinary
place!" cried Lucy. "All those stone animals -and people too! It's
-it's like a museum."
"Hush," said Susan,
"Aslan's doing something."
He was indeed. He had bounded up to
the stone lion and breathed on him. Then without waiting a moment he whisked
round - almost as if he had been a cat chasing its tail -and breathed also on
the stone dwarf, which (as you remember) was standing a few feet from the lion
with his back to it. Then he pounced on a tall stone dryad which stood beyond
the dwarf, turned rapidly aside to deal with a stone rabbit on his right, and
rushed on to two centaurs. But at that moment Lucy said,
"Oh, Susan! Look! Look at the
lion."
I expect you've seen someone put a
lighted match to a bit of newspaper which is propped up in a grate against an
unlit fire. And for a second nothing seems to have happened; and then you
notice a tiny streak of flame creeping along the edge of the newspaper. It was
like that now. For a second after Aslan had breathed upon him the stone lion
looked just the same. Then a tiny streak of gold began to run along his white
marble back then it spread - then the colour seemed to lick all over him as the
flame licks all over a bit of paper - then, while his hindquarters were still
obviously stone, the lion shook his mane and all the heavy, stone folds rippled
into living hair. Then he opened a great red mouth, warm and living, and gave a
prodigious yawn. And now his hind legs had come to life. He lifted one of them
and scratched himself. Then, having caught sight of Aslan, he went bounding
after him and frisking round him whimpering with delight and jumping up to lick
his face.
Of course the children's eyes turned to follow the lion; but the sight
they saw was so wonderful that they soon forgot about him. Everywhere the
statues were coming to life. The courtyard looked no longer like a museum; it
looked more like a zoo. Creatures were running after Aslan and dancing round
him till he was almost hidden in the crowd. Instead of all that deadly white
the courtyard was now a blaze of colours; glossy chestnut sides of centaurs,
indigo horns of unicorns, dazzling plumage of birds, reddy-brown of foxes, dogs
and satyrs, yellow stockings and crimson hoods of dwarfs; and the birch-girls
in silver, and the beech-girls in fresh, transparent green, and the larch-girls
in green so bright that it was almost yellow. And instead of the deadly silence
the whole place rang with the sound of happy roarings, brayings, yelpings,
barkings, squealings, cooings, neighings, stampings, shouts, hurrahs, songs and
laughter.
"Oh!" said Susan in a different tone. "Look! I
wonder - I mean, is it safe?"
Lucy looked and saw that Aslan had
just breathed on the feet of the stone giant.
"It's all right!" shouted Aslan joyously. "Once the
feet are put right, all the rest of him will follow."
"That wasn't exactly what I
meant," whispered Susan to Lucy. But it was too late to do anything about
it now even if Aslan would have listened to her. The change was already
creeping up the Giant's legs. Now he was moving his feet. A moment later he
lifted his club off his shoulder, rubbed his eyes and said,
"Bless me! I must have been
asleep. Now! Where's that dratted little Witch that was running about on the
ground. Somewhere just by my feet it was." But when everyone had shouted
up to him to explain what had really happened, and when the Giant had put his
hand to his ear and got them to repeat it all again so that at last he understood,
then he bowed down till his head was no further off than the top of a haystack
and touched his cap repeatedly to Aslan, beaming all over his honest ugly face.
(Giants of any sort are now so rare in England and so few giants are
good-tempered that ten to one you have never seen a giant when his face is
beaming. It's a sight well worth looking at.)
"Now for the inside of this
house!" said Aslan. "Look alive, everyone. Up stairs and down stairs
and in my lady's chamber! Leave no corner unsearched. You never know where some
poor prisoner may be concealed."
And into the interior they all
rushed and for several minutes the whole of that dark, horrible, fusty old
castle echoed with the opening of windows and with everyone's voices crying out
at once, "Don't forget the dungeons - Give us a hand with this door!
Here's another little winding stair - Oh! I say. Here's a poor kangaroo. Call
Aslan - Phew! How it smells in here - Look out for trap-doors - Up here! There
are a whole lot more on the landing!" But the best of all was when Lucy
came rushing upstairs shouting out,
"Aslan! Aslan! I've found Mr
Tumnus. Oh, do come quick."
A moment later Lucy and the little
Faun were holding each other by both hands and dancing round and round for joy.
The little chap was none the worse for having been a statue and was of course
very interested in all she had to tell him.
But at last the ransacking of the Witch's fortress was ended. The
whole castle stood empty with every door and window open and the light and the
sweet spring air flooding into all the dark and evil places which needed them
so badly. The whole crowd of liberated statues surged back into the courtyard.
And it was then that someone (Tumnus, I think) first said,
"But how are we going to get
out?" for Aslan had got in by a jump and the gates were still locked.
"That'll be all right," said Aslan; and then, rising on
his hind-legs, he bawled up at the Giant. "Hi! You up there," he
roared. "What's your name?"
"Giant Rumblebuffin, if it
please your honour," said the Giant, once more touching his cap.
"Well then, Giant Rumblebuffin," said Aslan, "just
let us out of this, will you?"
"Certainly, your honour. It
will be a pleasure," said Giant Rumblebuffin. "Stand well away from
the gates, all you little 'uns." Then he strode to the gate himself and
bang - bang - bang - went his huge club. The gates creaked at the first blow,
cracked at the second, and shivered at the third. Then he tackled the towers on
each side of them and after a few minutes of crashing and thudding both the
towers and a good bit of the wall on each side went thundering down in a mass
of hopeless rubble; and when the dust cleared it was odd, standing in that dry,
grim, stony yard, to see through the gap all the grass and waving trees and sparkling
streams of the forest, and the blue hills beyond that and beyond them the sky.
"Blowed if I ain't all in a muck sweat," said the Giant,
puffing like the largest railway engine. "Comes of being out of condition.
I suppose neither of you young ladies has such a thing as a pocket-handkerchee
about you?"
"Yes, I have," said Lucy,
standing on tip-toes and holding her handkerchief up as far as she could reach.
"Thank you, Missie," said Giant Rumblebuffin, stooping
down. Next moment Lucy got rather a fright for she found herself caught up in
mid-air between the Giant's finger and thumb. But just as she was getting near
his face he suddenly started and then put her gently back on the ground
muttering, "Bless me! I've picked up the little girl instead. I beg your
pardon, Missie, I thought you was the handkerchee!"
"No, no," said Lucy
laughing, "here it is!" This time he managed to get it but it was
only about the same size to him that a saccharine tablet would be to you, so
that when she saw him solemnly rubbing it to and fro across his great red face,
she said, "I'm afraid it's not much use to you, Mr Rumblebuffin."
"Not at all. Not at all,"
said the giant politely. "Never met a nicer handkerchee. So fine, so
handy. So - I don't know how to describe it."
"What a nice giant he is!"
said Lucy to Mr Tumnus.
"Oh yes," replied the Faun. "All the Buffins always
were. One of the most respected of all the giant families in Narnia. Not very
clever, perhaps (I never knew a giant that was), but an old family. With traditions,
you know. If he'd been the other sort she'd never have turned him into
stone."
At this point Aslan clapped his paws
together and called for silence.
"Our day's work is not yet over," he said, "and if
the Witch is to be finally defeated before bed-time we must find the battle at
once."
"And join in, I hope,
sir!" added the largest of the Centaurs.
"Of course," said Aslan. "And now! Those who can't
keep up - that is, children, dwarfs, and small animals - must ride on the backs
of those who can - that is, lions, centaurs, unicorns, horses, giants and
eagles. Those who are good with their noses must come in front with us lions to
smell out where the battle is. Look lively and sort yourselves."
And with a great deal of bustle and
cheering they did. The most pleased of the lot was the other lion who kept
running about everywhere pretending to be very busy but really in order to say
to everyone he met. "Did you hear what he said? Us Lions. That means him
and me. Us Lions. That's what I like about Aslan. No side, no
stand-off-ishness. Us Lions. That meant him and me." At least he went on
saying this till Aslan had loaded him up with three dwarfs, one dryad, two
rabbits, and a hedgehog. That steadied him a bit.
When all were ready (it was a big sheep-dog who actually helped
Aslan most in getting them sorted into their proper order) they set out through
the gap in the castle wall. At first the lions and dogs went nosing about in
all directions. But then suddenly one great hound picked up the scent and gave
a bay. There was no time lost after that. Soon all the dogs and lions and
wolves and other hunting animals were going at full speed with their noses to
the ground, and all the others, streaked out for about half a mile behind them,
were following as fast as they could. The noise was like an English fox-hunt
only better because every now and then with the music of the hounds was mixed
the roar of the other lion and sometimes the far deeper and more awful roar of
Aslan himself. Faster and faster they went as the scent became easier and
easier to follow. And then, just as they came to the last curve in a narrow,
winding valley, Lucy heard above all these noises another noise - a different
one, which gave her a queer feeling inside. It was a noise of shouts and
shrieks and of the clashing of metal against metal.
Then they came out of the narrow valley and at once she saw the
reason. There stood Peter and Edmund and all the rest of Aslan's army fighting desperately
against the crowd of horrible creatures whom she had seen last night; only now,
in the daylight, they looked even stranger and more evil and more deformed.
There also seemed to be far more of them. Peter's army - which had their backs
to her looked terribly few. And there werestatues dotted all over the
battlefield, so apparently the Witch had been using her wand. But she did not
seem to be using it now. She was fighting with her stone knife. It was Peter
she was fightin - both of them going at it so hard that Lucy could hardly make
out what was happening; she only saw the stone knife and Peter's sword flashing
so quickly that they looked like three knives and three swords. That pair were
in the centre. On each side the line stretched out. Horrible things were
happening wherever she looked.
"Off my back, children," shouted Aslan. And they both
tumbled off. Then with a roar that shook all Narnia from the western lamp-post
to the shores of the eastern sea the great beast flung himself upon the White
Witch. Lucy saw her face lifted towards him for one second with an expression
of terror and amazement. Then Lion and Witch had rolled over together but with
the Witch underneath; and at the same moment all war-like creatures whom Aslan
had led from the Witch's house rushed madly on the enemy lines, dwarfs with
their battleaxes, dogs with teeth, the Giant with his club (and his feet also
crushed dozens of the foe), unicorns with their horns, centaurs with swords and
hoofs. And Peter's tired army cheered, and the newcomers roared, and the enemy
squealed and gibbered till the wood re-echoed with the din of that onset.
THE battle was all over a few
minutes after their arrival. Most of the enemy had been killed in the first
charge of Aslan and his -companions; and when those who were still living saw
that the Witch was dead they either gave themselves up or took to flight. The
next thing that Lucy knew was that Peter and Aslan were shaking hands. It was
strange to her to see Peter looking as he looked now - his face was so pale and
stern and he seemed so much older.
"It was all Edmund's doing, Aslan," Peter was saying.
"We'd have been beaten if it hadn't been for him. The Witch was turning
our troops into stone right and left. But nothing would stop him. He fought his
way through three ogres to where she was just turning one of your leopards into
a statue. And when he reached her he had sense to bring his sword smashing down
on her wand instead of trying to go for her directly and simply getting made a
statue himself for his pains. That was the mistake all the rest were making.
Once her wand was broken we began to have some chance - if we hadn't lost so
many already. He was terribly wounded. We must go and see him."
They found Edmund in charge of Mrs
Beaver a little way back from the fighting line. He was covered with blood, his
mouth was open, and his face a nasty green colour.
"Quick, Lucy," said Aslan.
And then, almost for the first time, Lucy remembered the precious
cordial that had been given her for a Christmas present. Her hands trembled so
much that she could hardly undo the stopper, but she managed it in the end and
poured a few drops into her brother's mouth.
"There are other people wounded," said Aslan while she
was still looking eagerly into Edmund's pale face and wondering if the cordial
would have any result.
"Yes, I know," said Lucy crossly. "Wait a
minute."
"Daughter of Eve," said
Aslan in a graver voice, "others also are at the point of death. Must more
people die for Edmund?"
"I'm sorry, Aslan," said
Lucy, getting up and going with him. And for the next half-hour they were busy
- she attending to the wounded while he restored those who had been turned into
stone. When at last she was free to come back to Edmund she found him standing
on his feet and not only healed of his wounds but looking better than she had
seen him look - oh, for ages; in fact ever since his first term at that horrid
school which was where he had begun to go wrong. He had become his real old
self again and could look you in the face. And there on the field of battle
Aslan made him a knight.
"Does he know," whispered Lucy to Susan, "what
Aslan did for him? Does he know what the arrangement with the Witch really was?"
"Hush! No. Of course not,"
said Susan.
"Oughtn't he to be told?" said Lucy.
"Oh, surely not," said Susan. "It would be too
awful for him. Think how you'd feel if you were he."
"All the same I think he ought
to know," said Lucy. But at that moment they were interrupted.
That night they slept where they were. How Aslan provided food for
them all I don't know; but somehow or other they found themselves all sitting
down on the grass to a fine high tea at about eight o'clock. Next day they
began marching eastward down the side of the great river. And the next day
after that, at about teatime, they actually reached the mouth. The castle of
Cair Paravel on its little hill towered up above them; before them were the
sands, with rocks and little pools of salt water, and seaweed, and the smell of
the sea and long miles of bluish-green waves breaking for ever and ever on the
beach. And oh, the cry of the sea-gulls! Have you heard it? Can you remember?
That evening after tea the four
children all managed to get down to the beach again and get their shoes and
stockings off and feel the sand between their toes. But next day was more
solemn. For then, in the Great Hall of Cair Paravel - that wonderful hall with
the ivory roof and the west wall hung with peacock's feathers and the eastern
door which looks towards the sea, in the presence of all their friends and to
the sound of trumpets, Aslan solemnly crowned them and led them to the four
thrones amid deafening shouts of, "Long Live King Peter! Long Live Queen
Susan! Long Live King Edmund! Long Live Queen Lucy!"
"Once a king or queen in
Narnia, always a king or queen. Bear it well, Sons of Adam! Bear it well,
Daughters of Eve!" said Aslan.
And through the eastern door, which was wide open, came the voices
of the mermen and the mermaids swimming close to the shore and singing in
honour of their new Kings and Queens.
So the children sat on their thrones and sceptres were put into
their hands and they gave rewards and honours to all their friends, to Tumnus
the Faun, and to the Beavers, and Giant Rumblebuffin, to the leopards, and the
good centaurs, and the good dwarfs, and to the lion. And that night there was a
great feast in Cair Paravel, and revelry and dancing, and gold flashed and wine
flowed, and answering to the music inside, but stranger, sweeter, and more
piercing, came the music of the sea people.
But amidst all these rejoicings Aslan himself quietly slipped
away. And when the Kings and Queens noticed that he wasn't there they said
nothing about it. For Mr Beaver had warned them, "He'll be coming and
going," he had said. "One day you'll see him and another you won't.
He doesn't like being tied down and of course he has other countries to attend
to. It's quite all right. He'll often drop in. Only you mustn't press him. He's
wild,' you know. Not like a tame lion."
And now, as you see, this story is
nearly (but not quite) at an end. These two Kings and two Queens governed
Narnia well, and long and happy was their reign. At first much of their time
was spent in seeking out the remnants of the White Witch's army and destroying
them, and indeed for a long time there would be news of evil things lurking in
the wilder parts of the forest - a haunting here and a killing there, a glimpse
of a werewolf one month and a rumour of a hag the next. But in the end all that
foul brood was stamped out. And they made good laws and kept the peace and
saved good trees from being unnecessarily cut down, and liberated young dwarfs
and young satyrs from being sent to school, and generally stopped busybodies
and interferers and encouraged ordinary people who wanted to live and let live.
And they drove back the fierce giants (quite a different sort from Giant
Rumblebuffin) on the north of Narnia when these ventured across the frontier.
And they entered into friendship and alliance with countries beyond the sea and
paid them visits of state and received visits of state from them. And they
themselves grew and changed as the years passed over them. And Peter became a
tall and deep-chested man and a great warrior, and he was called King Peter the
Magnificent. And Susan grew into a tall and gracious woman with black hair that
fell almost to her feet and the kings of the countries beyond the sea began to
send ambassadors asking for her hand in marriage. And she was called Susan the
Gentle. Edmund was a graver and quieter man than Peter, and great in council
and judgement. He was called King Edmund the Just. But as for Lucy, she was
always gay and golden-haired, and all princes in those parts desired her to be
their Queen, and her own people called her Queen Lucy the Valiant.
So they lived in great joy and if ever they remembered their life
in this world it was only as one remembers a dream. And one year it fell out
that Tumnus (who was a middle-aged Faun by now and beginning to be stout) came
down river and brought them news that the White Stag had once more appeared in
his parts - the White Stag who would give you wishes if you caught him. So
these two Kings and two Queens with the principal members of their court, rode
a-hunting with horns and hounds in the Western Woods to follow the White Stag.
And they had not hunted long before they had a sight of him. And he led them a
great pace over rough and smooth and through thick and thin, till the horses of
all the courtiers were tired out and these four were still following. And they
saw the stag enter into a thicket where their horses could not follow. Then
said King Peter (for they talked in quite a different style now, having been
Kings and Queens for so long), "Fair Consorts, let us now alight from our
horses and follow this beast into the thicket; for in all my days I never
hunted a nobler quarry."
"Sir," said the others,
"even so let us do."
So they alighted and tied their
horses to trees and went on into the thick wood on foot. And as soon as they
had entered it Queen Susan said,
"Fair friends, here is a great
marvel, for I seem to see a tree of iron."
"Madam," said,King Edmund,
"if you look well upon it you shall see it is a pillar of iron with a
lantern set on the top thereof."
"By the Lion's Mane, a strange
device," said King Peter, "to set a lantern here where the trees
cluster so thick about it and so high above it that if it were lit it should
give light to no man!"
"Sir," said Queen Lucy.
"By likelihood when this post and this lamp were set here there were
smaller trees in the place, or fewer, or none. For this is a young wood and the
iron post is old." And they stood looking upon it. Then said King Edmund,
"I know not how it is, but this
lamp on the post worketh upon me strangely. It runs in my mind that I have seen
the like before; as it were in a dream, or in the dream of a dream."
"Sir," answered they all,
"it is even so with us also."
"And more," said Queen
Lucy, "for it will not go out of my mind that if we pass this post and
lantern either we shall find strange adventures or else some great change of
our fortunes."
"Madam," said King Edmund,
"the like foreboding stirreth in my heart also."
"And in mine, fair
brother," said King Peter.
"And in mine too," said Queen Susan. "Wherefore by
my counsel we shall lightly return to our horses and follow this White Stag no
further."
"Madam," said King Peter,
"therein I pray thee to have me excused. For never since we four were
Kings and Queens in Narnia have we set our hands to any high matter, as
battles, quests, feats of arms, acts of justice, and the like, and then given
over; but always what we have taken in hand, the same we have achieved."
"Sister," said Queen Lucy,
"my royal brother speaks rightly. And it seems to me we should be shamed
if for any fearing or foreboding we turned back from following so noble a beast
as now we have in chase."
"And so say I," said King
Edmund. "And I have such desire to find the signification of this thing
that I would not by my good will turn back for the richest jewel in all Narnia
and all the islands."
"Then in the name of
Aslan," said Queen Susan, "if ye will all have it so, let us go on
and take the adventure that shall fall to us."
So these Kings and Queens entered
the thicket, and before they had gone a score of paces they all remembered that
the thing they had seen was called a lamppost, and before they had gone twenty
more they noticed that they were. making their way not through branches but
through coats. And next moment they all came tumbling out of a wardrobe door
into the empty room, and They were no longer Kings and Queens in their hunting
array but just Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy in their old clothes. It was the
same day and the same hour of the day on which they had all gone into the
wardrobe to hide. Mrs Macready and the visitors were still talking in the
passage; but luckily they never came into the empty room and so the children
weren't caught.
And that would have been the very end of the story if it hadn't
been that they felt they really must explain to the Professor why four of the
coats out of his wardrobe were missing. And the Professor, who was a very
remarkable man, didn't tell them not to be silly or not to tell lies, but
believed the whole story. "No," he said, "I don't think it will
be any good trying to go back through the wardrobe door to get the coats. You
won't get into Narnia again by that route. Nor would the coats be much use by
now if you did! Eh? What's that? Yes, of course you'll get back to Narnia again
some day. Once a King in Narnia, always a King in Narnia. But don't go trying
to use the same route twice.
Indeed, don't try to get there at
all. It'll happen when you're not looking for it. And don't talk too much about
it even among yourselves. And don't mention it to anyone else unless you find
that they've had adventures of the same sort themselves. What's that? How will
you know? Oh, you'll know all right. Odd things they say - even their looks -
will let the secret out. Keep your eyes open. Bless me, what do they teach them
at these schools?
And that is the very end of the
adventure of the wardrobe.
But if the Professor was right it
was only the beginning of the adventures of Narnia.
The End.