"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.
The crown is heavy on my head, but better when I hold it in my hands. Grateful for my second chance, I cannot quite believe the Witch renounced her claim to me, and after victory in mere battle, I am called king, as though I had never sinned at all. How could such a betrayal as mine be forgiven so simply?
Then Lucy comes to me, crowned with silver to match my own, her merry eyes serious beyond their wont. "Edmund," she says, and I feel my world about to change, "there's something that I think you ought to know."
Susan thinks I should not have been told. She, the other witness to that terrible night, she turns away her face when I confront her. "What difference does it make?" she asks. "You already felt guilty for betraying us, and we forgave you. Why must you bear the knowledge that Someone took your place in death? He lives again now, and the Witch is slain. What's done is done, Edmund. Let be."
Her arguments are reasonable. I am speechless in the face of her logic. How could I ever make her understand?
It makes all the difference in the world.
On the battlements of the Cair, Peter finds me staring out to sea. Lucy was the last to see Him here, but all I can see now is the gathering night on the horizon. My brother shares my silent vigil for a while. I can only think that he is truly kingly – unlike me. He has never faltered, fallen.
Quiet, full of shame, I say at last, "I am not worthy."
Just when I think he cannot find an answer, he puts an arm round my shoulders. "It never was a question of worth, Ed," he replies softly, "only love."
I am alone, and the stars of Narnia rain down their light upon me. Far below, the sea murmurs against the rocks. "Aslan, Aslan, Aslan," I say in a voice just as soft. "Who am I, my King, that you should die for me?"
From the east, a breeze stirs my hair, flows over me like an embrace, and words are in my ear. "Edmund. You are my beloved son, with whom I am well pleased."
Nothing more. It is no reason, and it is the only possible reason. Through tears of gladness, I smile. My life is yours, Lord.