Author's Note: Standard disclaimers apply; I own nothing, I make no profit, I do this for pleasure and a love of the books.
This is part of the same AU series as Scenes from a Homeward Journey & The Treasure Hunters, in which Lucy, Edmund and Eustace return to Narnia at the end of VDT. It was first written a while ago, and needs a good deal of refining before being posted in full, but I thought I'd put up the prologue to test the water, so to speak. The Calormenes are a funny lot to write.
JUST A LITTLE BIT OF HISTORY REPEATING…
PROLOGUE
THE EMISSARY
"And so, most excellent and mighty King, in the name of my father, the delight of mine eyes; in the name of the great and glorious Tisroc Tambolan, descended in the direct line from Tash, the inexorable, the invincible, whose reign must and shall be eternal, I, Rameesh, Prince of Calormen, do kneel in humble and sincere friendship before you."
"Golly!" whispered Eustace, from his place of honour to the left of the Royal Dais. "He does go on, doesn't he?"
As if he had not heard the rude remark the speaker, a swarthy, spindly man swathed in a long gown that flashed with jewels, continued his address to his royal hosts, both of whom remained impassive (which is more than could be said for most of their closest courtiers, smothering grins at the boy's shrill comment).
"At Your Majesty's feet, and those of your most beauteous and gracious consort, I lay these caskets of gold, placed in my hands at the Golden Imperial Palace of Tashbaan by that most clement and pacific of sovereigns, the most benevolent Tisroc my immortal father, as token of his, and our, heartfelt admiration of Your most serene and gallant Majesty and this, your admirable realm. That Your Highness should consent, so soon after returning from that great journey (of which the balladeers even in our distant city sing) to this gracious reception of our embassy of peace, we take to be an augury of a friendship henceforth to be eternal between our two great realms."
"Your Imperial Highness is our very welcome guest," said King Caspian the Tenth solemnly, daring any of his subjects to dispute the assertion. "We are honoured by your gifts; still more so by your presence. We shall endeavour, throughout your time in our kingdom, to prove in every way our goodwill to your company, and to your empire. Will you allow that we present our nearest friends and advisors to Your Imperial Highness?"
"Your Majesty's graciousness to we poor strangers is beyond measure."
Lucy thought even Queen Celesta rolled her eyes at that.
"To our left, we present our royal predecessors, sent by Aslan to join us on our great eastern adventure," said Caspian, his formality challenging the children to giggle. "Imperial Highness, King Edmund and his sister, Queen Lucy of Narnia; together with their noble kinsman, Master Eustace."
"Most renowned sovereigns!" cried the Calormene Prince, shuffling on his knees from the central thrones to their feet. "This is the greatest honour, to encounter the mighty barba - Narnian siblings that ruled so benevolently under their famed brother Peter, the High King! In the name of the Tisroc (may he live for ever!) I salute you!"
"Um, yes," said Lucy, blushing scarlet as her hand was seized and smothered with kisses. Edmund kept his hands (just to be safe) firmly behind his back as he bowed.
"We hope, Imperial Highness," he said, hesitant while he collected the proper phrases of royal diplomacy, "that this meeting of two great Royal Houses will begin an age of - cordiality between Narnia and Calormen the like of which was beyond our achieving, in ancient times."
"He means we beat them in battle quite often," Lucy whispered to her cousin as Rameesh, his curled beard dropping bits of hardened wax in the carpet so low was he bent, hastened to concur. Eustace could only nod.
"Indeed the martial prowess of Your most renowned Majesties is honoured still in the ballads of our minstrels!" cried the Prince. "Why! The great Tisroc Rabadash himself was humbled at the hand of the most valiant Queen Lucy!"
"I did have some help," she murmured.
"To our right," said Caspian, intervening before further embarrassment to either side, "we have assembled the chiefs of our Council: my Lord Drinian here, Lord of Etinsmere and Lord Admiral of our Fleet…"
The tall, dark-haired Narnian standing closest to the King's throne bowed. "Glad are we all to see Your Imperial Highness safe arrived," he said, carefully neutral as the Tisroc's second son (and reputed favourite) rose and returned his bow. "If there be aught we can offer your ship's company, I beg you make it known to me at once."
"Your Grace is indeed most generous, for our poor galley was much abused by storms in the Great Bight; she is naught, of course, to your mighty Dawn Treader, of which we have heard so much…"
"Should Your Imperial Highness wish to see over our Royal Galleon, I dare wager Drinian will gladly arrange it."
"Gladly, Your Majesty," came the prompt (and only slightly doubtful) echo. If Rameesh noticed the sharp look shared between sovereign and sailor, he did not show it.
Indeed, his delight at the offer was effusive enough to make Edmund wince. "I'll have Rhince alerted, Your Majesty," said Drinian formally. Caspian beamed.
"Thank you, old friend," he whispered, leaning over.
"Better he tour the royal galleon than a carrack o' war."
"Always suspicious, my Lord." Caspian grasped his arm. "Here, Imperial Highness, we present our former tutor, Doctor Cornelius; who, at the moment of our gravest peril, faced by the schemes of our usurping uncle, Miraz, risked his own life for the preservation of ours."
"Venerable sir!" cried Rameesh, seizing the half-Dwarf's hands. "Such a service performed is justly rewarded by a wise sovereign!"
"I did only that any loyal subject ought, Imperial Highness." Cornelius replied, flexing his freed hands to recover circulation from the Prince's ardent grip. Caspian smiled.
"Still, we shall never forget it. Beside Cornelius stands our faithful Trumpkin, who governed our dominions with moderacy and wisdom during our absence in the East."
"Imperial 'ighness."
"Fortunate is the prince with so trusty a servant," said Rameesh, whose hands remained firmly folded when faced with a true Dwarf. Caspian's mouth pursed.
"Beside Trumpkin stands Trufflehunter, Chief Badger of Narnia; and Sir Peepiceek, Chief of our Mice in succession to the valiant Reepicheep, who ventured on, beyond the End of the World, at the Utter East."
"A great burden indeed, to succeed so renowned and virtuous a warrior," said the tall Calormene. Around his knee-height, Peepiceek brandished his rapier in salute.
"All Mice of Narnia must seek to emulate our greatest Chief, Imperial Highness!" he squeaked. While the Narnians smiled, the Prince of Calormen managed a painful smirk.
"We and all our Council are at Your Highness's disposal throughout your stay in Narnia," the King promised hurriedly. "Now, enough of these formalities! Assembled in this hall we have the whole of our Court circle; will you not descend and greet them?"
Rameesh raised himself to his full height, his crimson, gold and jewelled robe swinging with his movement. "I would consider it the greatest of honours, noble sovereign."
"Good. Yes, excellent. My dear?"
Extending an arm to his wife, who accepted it with a smile, Caspian led his guest and the Council down into the body of the Throne Room, brilliantly lit by lanterns whose flames reflected everywhere from jewels and precious metals. The nobility of Narnia was assembled in all its finery; Lucy thought even a Prince of opulent Calormen must be impressed by the splendour the little barbarian kingdom (he'd almost said it, she knew he had!) could display.
It had been hundreds of years since any Calormene embassy had come to Narnia, Caspian had told her when the first request for reception had come from the distant city of Tashbaan. The Tisroc (getting old and unlikely, however fervently his subjects wished it, to live for ever) had used the occasion of the King's marriage to suggest his son's visit, citing an especial fascination with the great quest from which Caspian was only two weeks returned. Dubious as they were of friendly overtures from the ancient enemy, the Narnian Council had approved the visit; and here, six weeks later, was His Imperial Serenity's second son at the head of a lavish entourage, bowing and kissing hands as he faced the highest of King Caspian's court.
"I don't like him," murmured Daniela, Lady of Etinsmere, scrubbing the hand Rameesh had slobbered over against the side of her silver-trimmed blue satin gown. "Though to tell truth, Your Majesties, I hardly expected to."
"He's false," agreed Lucy. "And the way he looked at Trumpkin!"
"Aye, Ma'am." His wife was still considering her offended hand with disgust, much to Drinian's amusement. "Still, he's here a bare ten days, and if he has the authority of his father to agree any form o' treaty with us, I dare say the inconvenience is worth the while."
"What, even of allowing him aboard the Dawn Treader?" teased Eustace. Ninian, Lord of Greenglade and Drinian's cousin, almost choked on his Beruna wine.
"Let that son of a scoundrel aboard our flagship?" he sputtered.
"Quieter!" hissed everyone.
"Wonder if he'll let us aboard his in return?" asked Edmund. "It doesn't look much! A galley?"
"And rowed by slaves, if I understood the Prince's captain aright." There were oars aboard all Narnian ships, for use in flat calm or dire emergency; every man took a turn. But a galley, manned by half-starved, chained men flogged by their commanders? Narnia had never sunk so low!
"I'm not sure I want to see!" said Lucy with a shiver. "I say! Lady Beaversdam's being pawed! Where's her husband?"
"Where ever the drinks are," muttered Ninian. "Ah, Your Majesty!"
"My Lord, I think you have not yet been presented to our most noble visitor." The Calormene's impossibly formal way of speech was catching, thought Caspian, not at all pleased. "Your Imperial Highness, my Lord Ninian, Master of Greenglade."
"Sir." It seemed to Lucy the Prince's attention was elsewhere; he almost misjudged his bow, the enormous ruby in the centre of his gold silk turban actually grazing Ninian's forehead, so close did they come to collision. "Your Majesty - most magnanimous sovereign, pray tell me - who is that vision of perfection entering the chamber now?"
"Hm?" Frowning, Caspian turned, his ill humour dissipating the instant he saw her. Tall, with raven hair falling to her knees, a perfect, ivory oval face with delicate, level features and wide, violet eyes, the lady entering had the bearing of a queen and the looks of a fairy-tale princess. "Isabella!"
To the goggling Rameesh, he explained. "The lady is our nearest kin of the Telmar blood, Highness; Isabella, Duchess of the province of Beruna."
"Such beauty!" marvelled Rameesh. Lucy thought he might be about to faint. "Great King, I beseech you, permit that I am presented, that I may pay homage to this goddess!"
"Oh, well, yes, of course, gladly," stammered Caspian. "We were in some doubt as to whether my cousin would reach us for this evening's reception; she has been recently in Archenland, seeking the sanction of my cousin King Corin for her union with his kinsman Cor, Count of Lionwood."
"Sanction I dare say was granted, Sire, as the Count is come with her," Drinian put in quietly, first to notice the slight, sandy man at the Duchess's side.
"That ungainly weakling to joined with so radiant a creature?" Suddenly the bonhomie slipped away. "Majesty! That you could permit such a misalliance!"
"The Lord Cor is kin to the Royal House Anvard, Highness." Nettled, Caspian answered more sharply than he had intended (for he had been less than impressed with Isabella's chosen suitor himself, and for much the same reason; Cor was not ugly; just terrifyingly plain).
"Unworthy! Such a woman is born to mate with greatness!"
"It was suggested, was it not, my liege, that Her Grace might be a suitable Queen of Narnia, in the early days of your reign?" murmured Queen Celesta, who knew such a suggestion would only stoke the Prince's outrage (while also embarrassing his host). Caspian coloured.
"There was hardly a noble lady of any northern realm not mooted as a candidate for that honour, Ma'am," said Drinian. The King glared at him.
"Thank you, my Lord; I have not forgot those painful meetings of the Council," he said with a theatrical shudder. "Come, Highness, we shall present you at once to our cousin and her betrothed. Oh of course, our consent was granted the instant it was asked."
As the King and his chief guest moved away, another robed and turbaned figure, smaller than the Prince and stooped with age, insinuated itself into the group. "My most Imperial master is bewitched, Majesties, by the barbarian lady yonder," murmured Rameesh's Vizier, bowing low.
Brows had furrowed at the use of the contemptuous Calormene term for the fair-skinned Northern tribes. "I intend no offence," he added hastily. "We are come in peace, emissaries of the affection our venerable master Tisroc Tambolan (may he live forever) bears for the noble and prosperous realm of Narnia. Indeed I may assure Your Nobilities, the most benevolent magnanimity of our Princeling's reception here will only further His Most Serene Imperial Majesty's gentle desire to do all that may be best for amity between our peoples. I mean only to observe, the goddess before whom His Highness kneels is a divinity any true Calormene would worship; a true Daughter of Tash, the inexorable, the invincible…"
"Pompous worm!" muttered Edmund. Ninian Greenglade developed a nasty (and very unconvincing) coughing fit.
"Permit, noble sir, that I summon water for you!" squeaked the Vizier, as Drinian obligingly thumped his shuddering cousin on the back and the ladies feigned noisy concern. "You! Slave! Bring water for His Honour!"
"If you would be so good, Rambles," added the Queen to the startled faun thus addressed. The creature (who reminded Lucy, with his chestnut colouring and curly hair, very much of her old friend Tumnus, the first of his kind she had ever seen) bowed and scurried away with a clip-clap of hoofed feet. "Ah, my Lord Vizier, your master summons you; yes, go with our blessing; I am sure His Imperial Highness is not accustomed to waiting."
"Indeed no, most gracious and bountiful Queen." Bowing, the old man backed away, almost tripping over the short train of his robe. "I come, Highness! Your most humble servant Alyoshka comes!"
Eustace puffed out his cheeks. Ninian stood up, quite recovered (and without the aid of water) from his coughing. It was left to Lucy to say what everyone was thinking.
"It's going to be," she announced solemnly, "a long ten days!"