Were It Not For You

Chapter One: An Early Spring

In the Month of Fairdawn, Narnian Year 1003

"King Peter!"

I paused in mid-stride, trying not to growl as my valet, Silvo, came hurrying after me on tiny hooves. He was panting and nervous, which was nothing new since Fauns in general were anxious creatures. I turned, taking care not to hit him with the fishing poles I was carrying. Edmund and I had been trying for an eternity to sneak away and fish for trout in a particular stream just south of the palace. We had discovered the stream a year ago in one of our many wanderings (Edmund insisted we were not wandering, but that we were lost, but it is hard to get lost in Narnia when you can ask almost any tree for directions). We planned on catching our breakfast, exploring some cliffs on the coast, and hiding for as long as we could until royal duties compelled us to get back to work. It was the first time in ages we had started our day without a morning of drilling on the training grounds. General Oreius had freed everyone for a day – a treat as rare as snow in Calormen and not to be questioned – and ordered me and Edmund to go act our ages.

"Yes, Silvo?"

"Your Majesty, pray do not forget that the embassy from Archenland is coming today. They're expected in the late afternoon."

"I haven't forgotten, Silvo. Queen Susan hasn't let me forget for a moment."

"Duchess Aneles and her daughter Lady Anelata will be accompanying the mission."

"Yes, I know. Another thing my sister won't let me forget. Most likely the ladies are on a hunting trip of their own," I replied.

"Hunting?" wondered my valet. Foreigners were not allowed to hunt in Narnia - the potential for accidental murder was far too high to allow anyone not familiar with our people shoot at anything except straw targets.

"Yes," I said, resuming walking. "Husbands are always in season. Didn't you know that?"

I smirked as Silvo gaped, and then with a wry look he caught on. He fell back a few steps, saying after me,

"I understand that both ladies are accomplished and fair!"

"Aren't they all?" I called back to him. "We'll see you later!"

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Fortunately for me and Edmund, the cooks packed us a hamper with enough food to feed a hungry Centaur. Between the pair of us we caught a total of three fish, none of which would have fed a Mouse. We spent a chilly, soggy, buggy morning proving to each other and the world that trout fishing was a skill which neither of us had acquired, nor was it likely we would acquire it before lunch. We certainly had fun proving it though, and by mid-morning we abandoned all hope of burned fish for breakfast and instead applied ourselves to cold game pie and mushroom pastries. It was only with great reluctance that we left something for lunch.

We went climbing on the cliffs next, much to the chagrin of our personal guards. They had (out of mercy or fear for their safety) stayed well away while we demonstrated our inability to catch fish. Now they came out in nervous force to see us risking life and limb just to get to the top of the cliffs, a thing most of them could not understand, especially when there was a perfectly good and convenient path not a bowshot from where we started.

"That's Yoli," said Edmund, shaking his head as a long, baying howl echoed off the cliffs. He did not even have to look down to recognize the voice. The inevitable pack of Dogs had finally tracked us down and they were barking for us to leave off this foolishness and come back to them where we would be safe with four paws on the ground.

I looked at the broad, sandy beach below, now churned up by many feet, and heard a faint, piercing yap. "La, and that's Kep."

Edmund groaned. The Dachshund was, to say the least, a short teller of tall tales. "He'll have us dead six times over if they let him get back to the Cair first."

"They better not have found our hamper," I added, wondering what Narnian laws, if any, protected unattended food.

To the dismay of the Dogs, we kept on scaling the rough stone face. They need not have been so antsy. The ground to the south of the palace was low and gentle, and the cliffs here were not nearly as high as the ones at Kellsalter to the north of Cair Paravel and we had climbed them time and again and survived. It was quite easy since they sloped a little inland and there were handholds and footholds aplenty. Besides, Edmund and I each had three Mountain Goats among our personal guards, courtesy of General Oreius. They were perfectly at home on cliffs and I knew that all six – two sets of triplet brothers and cousins all – were close by in case we slipped or got stuck.

We were spared any such indignities as we achieved the summit of the cliff. The view was unparalleled and the day was nothing short of glorious. Panting and sweaty, Ed and I collapsed on the warm rocks and let the gentle winds off the Eastern Sea cool us. We could see Cair Paravel sitting golden and serene atop Mount Paravel like some beautiful maiden looking out across the waves. Birds rode the warm breeze, singing their songs, and the Dryads rustled their leaves in appreciation. Before us the cliffs dropped off to the sea, while behind us, the ground was rocky for a short distance before it leveled out and became the forest that covered the rolling hills to the south of the palace. The main route along the coast wove through the woods nearby, a path that was said to reach all the way from the frozen land of Frinn on the Great Northern Sea where the Ice Dragons live, down through the Wild Lands of the North and bleak Ettinsmoor and thence to Narnia and Archenland and Calormen and to the strange, blistering hot southern lands beyond where salamanders thrive.

It was at this point the Dogs decided to brave the steep path up the cliffs (little realizing an even easier path around the cliff and up the slope was not half a mile further south) and come to our rescue. A barking cloud of dust began climbing toward us, and Edmund sighed and shook his head.

"They are a blessing of Aslan," he reminded himself.

"And mighty Aslan has a sense of humor," I provided dryly.

"Only in Narnia are jokes born and not made."

We laughed, and the three Brothers Nani - Rang, Rung, and Ring - and the three Brothers Bili - Hiro, Hint, and Hark - climbed up to join us. They were a handsome lot and rather impressive for Goats, being very large and strong and agile creatures, and they were eternally patient with our comparatively plodding and graceless climbing abilities. It was almost impossible to tell them apart unless they were talking – they all had long, silky white coats and curling black horns and the same dark, intelligent eyes.

"Someone approaches, Your Majesties," they reported.

We checked on the progress of our rescuers. They were slowing, having started at a dead run without consideration to the angle of ascent. They were also getting quieter as the dust choked them. Kep had given up entirely if, indeed, he had ever started.

"Yes, we gathered," I said, gesturing at our approaching blessings.

"Naaaay," said one, and I knew by his tone that it was one of my guards, Rang Nani. He sniffed the air and stamped his hoof. "From the south, on the coastal path."

Edmund and I exchanged a long-suffering look and a sigh. It could only be the Archenlanders. They were early. Very early.

"Ask the captain to send out scouts," I said. "See how far away they are."

"See if we have time to escape," murmured Edmund. He glanced up as Talking Birds wheeled overhead and set out on their mission. "I knew we should have gone north."

I grinned and called a final order to the scouts. "If it is the Archenland ambassador, pray send word to Cair Paravel as well so that they can . . . fuss," I finished, knowing full well that all preparations were laid by already.

The grim news came by a Bobolink courier already en route to us. The ambassador's party was a mere ten minutes away by horse. In all decency we could not run off with them so close by, but since they were so early we felt under no obligation to do more than smooth our windblown hair and straighten our tunics. Sure enough, within ten minutes we could hear the jingle of harnesses and voices raised and the party, escorted by three Satyr heralds, burst into our clearing a few moments after the exhausted Dogs made it to the top of the cliff.

Collapsing canines and startled horses made for a noisy and nervous meeting as the heralds skid to a halt to bow to me and my brother. The Archenlanders, so conscious of etiquette, hardly expected to see the Kings of Narnia so far from the palace, let alone in such a state of disarray, and nary a one of them knew what to do. The Dogs, who seemed to have no memory of the planned visit from Archenland, made a half-hearted attempt at fierceness and let out a few raspy barks before dropping down on our feet, panting heavily and pinning us where we stood. Edmund and I, covered with dust and dog hair as we tried to assist our cousins, made a less-than-impressive showing. Of us all, though, only the Dogs cared less than we kings.

"Prince Vanine," I said to the elderly gentleman, cousin of King Lune. "Be welcome once again to Narnia. Welcome, Archenland," I called to the rest of the party. "Aslan's blessing upon you all."

"And upon you, O Kings of Narnia, and all you hold dear. The unexpected sight of Your Majesties gives me great joy," Vanine replied. He was a likeable old chap, clever and witty and not so full of himself that he could not adapt quickly. It was a useful trait in a diplomat, one that he was exercising freely at the moment. He suppressed a smile as Edmund almost toppled over from Dogs pressing close and heavy to his legs. "I hope we find Your Majesties and your fair sisters in good health."

"Blooming, sir," said I. "Pray, do not delay for our sakes. My brother and I will see you later this evening. We've sent word to the palace and you are expected. Your party will be made most welcome."

Wise enough to know when to depart, Vanine inclined his head. "After two days of travel a rest will be most welcome, High King. Until this evening, Your Majesties."

I nodded in turn, smiling to see them leave. The party of knights and nobles rode slowly past to allow each Archenlander to bow his head and salute us. I was just thinking how strange it was to see so many humans at once when I found myself looking into an astonishingly pretty face.

Flaxen hair and ice blue eyes were what struck me first. Creamy skin, a blush of rose on her cheek, and a shy smile soon followed that initial impression as I got my first look at Lady Anelata of Chlanda-on-Wye, heiress of the late Duke Dean and his wife, Duchess Aneles. She was as fair as spring and as lovely to behold, and I found I did not want to look away.

A sweet smile, a nod, and then she was followed by an older, equally beautiful woman, much like the girl save that her coloring was stronger. The great resemblance between the two told me that this had to be the lady's mother, though she looked so young that they could almost have been mistaken for sisters. The smile she cast was more assured and she inclined her head gracefully to us kings before they rode on to Cair Paravel.

Edmund extracted himself from the pile of canines lazing atop him and stood close by as I watched the ambassador's party ride away. He frowned impatiently.

"Peter!"

"Hmm?" I turned my attention to him, surprised at his annoyance.

"Calm down. You've seen girls before."

"None so pretty," I replied.

He snorted. "They've all been pretty. You just haven't been paying attention."