Accurate Description
Peter
Forgive me now 'cause I
Have been unfaithful
Don't ask me why
'Cause I don't know
I was the eldest of the four. But you probably knew that already.
I was called the High King, the Magnificent, the best and bravest in battle.
You probably already knew this too.
It's what all of the Narnians say about me. It's what everyone has come to know me as.
But they did not paint an accurate description. Though they told of my deeds, though much of what they said is true, they forgot one important thing.
It was the action that made me see myself as a different person. The story that the Narnians forgot. The one event that caused me so much shame, that I no longer called myself by these titles.
The Narnians knew me as Peter the Magnificent. But I knew myself as Peter the Bloodluster.
The Bloodluser? You ask. But why? What could you have done to cause you to name yourself this?
The answer to that is simple.
I lost sight of the great lion.
The day had begun like any other day. Looking over documents to make sure that all was well, writing letters to kings in other lands, and rattling my mind to try and balance it all together.
It was then that General Orieus came galloping into the room. Sweat poured down his white human face and black horse body.
"Sire!" he all but shouted. "The barbarians from the east are returning! They are coming up the great river! "
It would be fair enough to say that I had a good reason for suddenly becoming hot tempered. We had just come through a victory over these same men not a fortnight before. And now they were coming once more.
Men do not know when to give up.
"Summon all the men you can find," I immediately commanded, rising from my chair as I headed for the armory. "I will join you at the front gates as soon as I am ready."
My armorbearer was already awaiting me. Without a word spoken, the faun began to fit me. He was swift in his task.
I grasped the hilt of my sword Rhindon as I headed out. My horse had already been saddled and fit for battle.
As I mounted, my brother stood looking up at me from my right side.
"Do not misjudge these men," he warned me. "They are not looking for a second beating."
I nodded my head. He handed me my shield; and as was our custom, we shook hands.
"Keep Narnia safe if all goes ill," I commanded.
"May the Lion protect you," he replied.
And with that, I led my men out of the castle gates and into the open Narnia country.
It did not take us long to reach the Great River. But as soon as we did, my anger became greater.
These barbaric men had already killed several talking beasts, and three great trees had been cut down to stumps. The sounds of taunts that they made was horrific and deformed.
"Narnians!" I shouted over the noise. "CHARGE!!!"
And my brave Narnians did. They did. They charged. They fought. They gave all that they had.
But even the river god could not protect them from the terrible slaughter that followed.
Suddenly from all around us, these barbaric men emerged from the ground.
They had hidden themselves beneath loose rocks and gray tarps so that we never noticed them!
In the shock and confusion that followed, they killed almost half of the Narnians that had come.
The river god and the great trees immediately sprang into action.
It was in this moment that I made my mistake. I would realize too late what this simple denial had cost me.
In the moment when I should have been begging Aslan for help, I looked instead to myself.
That's understandable, you say in my defense.
No. It isn't.
Maybe if I hadn't ever known Aslan it would be understandable. But you see, I did. And worse still, I knew the exact moment when my heart should have been praying that the great Lion would help us.
But I didn't.
My dear, brave soldiers fought hard. But they were still being slaughtered.
Before the battle was out, another third had been killed.
Finally, after a great effort, the barbaric men surrendured. It was victory for Narnia. But not for me.
And it only grew worse.
As man by man passed by me, being led by the Narnians towards a stockade, my anger burned like a hot iron.
Once more, I should have looked to Aslan to help me. To make me see who these men really were. Lost.
But I refused to see that.
These men had killed my people. More than half of my men. My soldiers.
If my dead soldiers could have seen what I did next, they would have been ashamed to call me their king.
For I did the unthinkable.
I grasped Rhindon in my hand as the last ten men were being put in. Pushing passed a dwarf and a satry, I rushed at these last ten men.
I remember each man's face as they turned to face me. The look of utter horror on their faces as I cut them down, one by one.
As I cold-blooded murdured them.
Suddenly, I felt strong hands grabbing me, pulling me back. For a minute, I saw nothing. Then, I saw Orieus' face staring into mine.
It wasn't until this moment that I realized that I had been screaming.
"Sire," Orieus began.
"I need to be alone Orieus," I said unsteadily.
I then walked back towards the battle ground. The remaining soldiers were finding the wounded and burying the dead.
I have to get out of here, my mind screamed.
So I walked further on, trying to calm my emotions. The anger, pain, sorrow, horror, anguish that rose up within me threatened to let itself loose again.
"Oh Aslan help me!" I cried out.
I buried my face in my hands as I fell to the ground.
"Oh Aslan, what have I done?"
Well, what did you do? you ask.
I'll tell you what I did.
I failed.
In every way, as a High King, a brother, a friend, a knight, and a soldier, I had failed.
I didn't ask Aslan for help within our battles before or during. I didn't seek Aslan when my anger rose within me, seeing my own pain and not seeing their ignorance. And I had leapt upon ten unarmed men and killed each one of them.
I don't know how long I sat their crying.
"Oh Aslan, please forgive me."
I know that he did. Yes, the great lion did forgive me.
But I could never truly forgive myself.
And so that is my accurate description.
You may still remember me as the High King, Peter the Magnificent, Peter Wolfsbane; just please never forget thatI was at least once, someone else.
Peter the Bloodluster.
Now I'm in our secret place
Alone in your embrace
Where all my wrongs have been erased
You have forgiven
All the promises and lies
All the times I compromise
All the times you were denied
You have forgiven.