Chapter 3: The Prince, The Tarkheena, and the Regent
Aravis cursed the twin princes and their unborn children. Never mind that a small voice in her head wondered for a moment if in this way she was also cursing her own offspring-NO. What was she thinking? The both of them were arrogant, idiotic MEN. And Cor was the worst. At least Corin never pretended to be something he wasn't. He was a childish troublemaker and never claimed to be otherwise. Cor, however... What POTENTIAL Cor had...but he wasted it. His utterly rash words, his insensitivity... his infernally long hair even-everything about him annoyed her, and she was done with him. Upon their departure, she stamped off to her chamber, before they'd even left the bailey. She donned riding clothes, dragged a brush through her hair and pulled it back, braiding it fiercely into a long, whip-like plait down her back, and scowled at her angry reflection in a looking glass.

Still stomping with fury, she returned to the hall, went out into the bailey and into the tilt yard where the stables were. It was here she'd seen them coming from last night-covered in mud and sweat, like they were no better than pigs. "The brutes…" she muttered. Aravis herself saddled her horse and rode. She galloped along the Winding Arrow, through the hills and trees of Archenland, her goal at first uncertain, but soon she realized that she was headed for the Southern March. Surely her friend Torlian-who must already be on the look out for her, having seen her in his magic pool-would have some advice... or at least offer her peace after her rather frustrating morning and grief-stricken night.

Even the sight of the Narnians departing was enough to undo her. She could not spend the next month at Anvard without gaining some sense of peace. King Lune would not worry-she often left to visit the hermit. Oftentimes in the past, Cor and Corin came with her-she was inseparable from them as children, when she may as well have been the third brother. Often it had been Cor with her, as Corin preferred his own sport-not to mention saving Narnia together and traveling for months had endeared them to each other for a time.
But a year or more ago... Cor began to become distant. He never rode with her anymore, never joked together. And as of late-within months even, his every word to her was cold politeness and more often, barely chivalrous silence. Who was this man-surly and sour, ignoring her one moment, and provoking her the next? And why did his indifference hurt so much? What did she care? Why did things have to change at all? And Corin... he would always be the same, unless some great and terrible alteration came to change him for good. Irresponsible, lazy, and a cad, at least he could be counted on never to change.
The hard riding did her good, and before an hour was up-and she was half-way to the Southern March-Aravis had calmed considerably, and allowed her horse to walk for a time, while she enjoyed the warm spring weather. It was on days like this in years past that she enjoyed most her visits to see Torlian, she would bring him a picnic, and she and Cor... There she went again, thinking of him. "Oh, bother Cor!" she said aloud, and her horse glanced back at her, surprised at her sudden outburst. "Good riddance," she said, and the horse continued a slow walk, perhaps thinking its rider a trifle mad to be talking to no one, but not minding as long as it didn't have to gallop. "He will be gone for a month, and perhaps more... and then, when he returns... he can see the error in dealing with me as he has done!"

oOoOoOoOo

Cor lay in a large bed-one that had once belonged to King Edmund, in fact, and he could not sleep. It had taken them a full day's ride to get to Cair Paravel, and after they'd been supped and welcomed, Tumnus made them as comfortable as he could-it seemed he'd been acting as a mixture of the court scholar and major domo, an occupation that suited him rather well-promising to explain the workings of Cair in detail the next morning. It was strange sleeping in the younger king's quarters, strange, and a little sad. He had always gotten along quite well with Edmund, and he would miss him. Not perhaps as much as Aravis would miss Queen Lucy. Strange, thinking of Aravis just now. She truly seemed annoyed with him-or was it Corin? Or both of them?-when they left that morning. She hadn't even remained in the bailey long enough to wave to them.
It would be a relief to be away from her for a month... her presence was maddening. Not only did she disapprove of everything he did, she refused to see anything of worth in him at all... and the way she looked, smelled, moved... what was he saying? Why did she have to change so much in the last year? They'd been close friends before… what had happened?

Knowing he would not be able to sleep that night, Cor finally rose and made his way down to the hall of Narnia. He was not the only one who was wakeful—Corin sat by the dying fire at the far end of the hall, just off to the right of the rulers' dais. Cor approached his brother and spoke: "Can't you sleep, Corin?"

The younger twin jumped, and then laughed at himself. "You'll be my death," he said. "No, I can't. It's noisy here. Even when talking animals sleep, they make the most frightful grunting noises."

"Is that all that is keeping you awake?"

"No," Corin admitted. "What exactly did the Four do all day here?"

"They ruled the creatures—just as we do in Archenland. Only… they're all talking animals here."

"What kind of rule do animals need?"

"Not harsh, that is certain," said Cor. "I remember once I asked King Peter what the hardest job was… he answered that giving the giants a trouncing up north did it. There used to be the occasional rumor of a hag or an evil tree… but they were taken care of early on."

"It would seem this post won't have much action then," said Corin, visibly disappointed. "Why did father think I needed help, I wonder…"

"Perhaps to learn the calm life of the Narnians," said Cor. "Their ways are not our own. It may seem like a simple post, but trust me, it is not."

"How do you know?"

"Tumnus came to record Narnian history at the Library of Anvard a few years ago, you'll remember. He explained to me the need to have humans ruling over this land."

"You mean those old rhymes about 'Adam's flesh and Adam's bone, and all that?"

"Yes," said Cor. "Though even you and I are not fully human."

"The rite of a prince of Archenland," Corin nodded, reciting the teaching he knew well. "We have moon's blood… though not much of it anymore."

"Enough human blood to watch over Narnia for a time, though," said Cor. "Do you remember how Narnia came into her Four Rulers?"

"The story of the White Witch," said Corin. "Everyone knows that."

"Indeed," said Cor. "She came to power at the end of Queen Swanwhite's reign. She was the last in Narnia with human blood in her. In those days, Narnia and Archenland knew very little of each other."

"How do you know so much?"

"Tumnus," said Cor simply. "He knows much of Narnia—more even of Archenland, if you can believe it."

"He has been called the state bard of Archenland…" Corin laughed. "Surprising that he knows more about it than the natives.

"I'm not a native," said Cor. "At least… I didn't know anything about it until seven years ago. I digress… we were speaking of human blood."

"Why is it so bloody important?" asked Corin jovially.

"Very funny," said Cor. "As a matter of fact, I don't know why blood is so important to rule. Narnia belongs to the talking beasts and spirits… but Aslan says it is for man to be ruler over."

"One of the many things about Aslan that I will never understand, I'm afraid," said Corin. "And how long will this be for? What if there is no human king to take over? Will I be stuck here?"

"I hardly think of it as being stuck here," said Cor. "You are in charge of a kingdom before I get to be—did you ever think of that?"

oOoOoOoOo

The Hermit of the Southern March was indeed expecting Aravis' arrival, and he welcomed her with open arms. "Daughter, you are well met," he said as they walked inside the green hedged enclosure. "It is with a troubled heart that you come to see me this day, I perceive."

"Not troubled so much, father," said Aravis, choosing her words carefully. She knew that he could see many things in his pool of sight, but could not hear words spoken—a look might have given some feeling away, however she need not own to what it might be. "Weary… quite weary, Sire."

"Then rest your self at a friend's dwelling, daughter," said the hermit.

He led her to a stone bench and table beneath a great oak, where a meal of bread and fruit had already been laid for them both. Aravis ate heartily, greatly comforted by the presence of her old friend. It was Torlian, who'd been a place of refuge many a day for both her and Cor—they'd often ridden here in the past, though it had been many months since the prince had accompanied her. Anger rose in her again when she thought of this, but she pushed it aside, for she had other business. "Father, I have a question for you…"

"Please ask, my daughter," said Torlian.

"I assume you saw the Four disappear."

"I did," said Torlian.

"Why did you not warn anyone? You see things in the future… I thought…"

"I see many things in the future, child," said Torlian softly. "And some in the past… and some as they happen. It was the moment of their disappearance that I came upon the pool. I sent many of my flying friends to Narnia—to Cair—the moment I did."

"But, it was too late to do anything…" said Aravis, her heart sinking.

"Not necessarily," said Torlian. "Between my messengers and the word of the Lion, the court of Narnia gained knowledge as to how and when they'd gone. Can you imagine the world-wide search that would still be going on, otherwise?"

"I hadn't thought of that," said Aravis. Indeed, the land of Narnia would be in a great tumult if no one had any idea of where the Four had gone—there would be quest upon quest to find them… and all for naught. "Is… it known who will succeed them as sovereign?"

"The Prince Corin is made regent, I've seen," replied the old man.

"Yes, but… after? Who will be the permanent king? Who will rule Narnia?"

"That is yet unknown to me," said Torlian.

"Know you how long Cor will remain?" asked Aravis, hoping her voice was casual and unconcerned. But something in her eyes as she asked the question must have alerted the hermit to some of the feelings behind her question.

"Not intolerably long," said Torlian enigmatically. "Have you a wish for his return so soon?"

"No… Well—King Lune is not well…Cor is needed in Archenland." Aravis stood from the table and walked a little way toward the far green wall, feeling the soft, cool grass on her feet. Many times in the past she and Cor strolled these grounds barefoot. Those had been happier days. Would they ever again? A pang of hurt—surely from missing her friend, Queen Lucy, stabbed at her heart.

"He is well enough for the present," said Torlian. "Achenland will not be left without a king any time soon, child." He was behind her now, a hand resting on her shoulder. "Is that what troubles you, or is it something more?"

Aravis turned toward Torlian, smiling guiltily. "There are other things, of course—but then, your great perception is more experienced than my ability to conceal a matter."

"I will not press you, child," said Torlian, though Aravis was well-aware that he already must have some idea as to her thoughts. "Rest here tonight—and return on the morrow. Many things are known that might yet surprise you. You will see the prince shortly."

It was long after she lay on a soft heather palate, staring out a window into the southern Archenland sky that Aravis truly appreciated how much the hermit knew—and how little he was willing to tell anyone. Knowledge, it seemed, could be a very dangerous thing.

oOoOoOoOo

The following week in Narnia, at the court of Cair Paravel, Cor and Corin were much busier than either of them had expected they might be. They were given complete tours of the castle, to include the treasure chambers, and they rode through the surrounding lands as far as the Ford of Beruna, meeting with all kinds of talking animals—all of whom were still devastated by the loss of their kind sovereigns, but welcoming of the regency of Corin. Prince Cor did his best to remain in the background, hoping his presence would give his brother confidence, but refusing to get in the way, so that Corin would learn how to govern Narnian's subjects in his own time and way.

Tumnus was their constant companion, telling them of the histories of Narnia—he was a kind guide, and always ready to assist in whatever way he could. It seemed that the faun was so busy most of the time in making the two princes comfortable, that he never rested. Cor supposed that he, too, would busy himself as much as possible were he in the faun's place. He'd only just lost his four sovereigns—Tumnus must be in more sorrow than he let on.

It was well into the second week when Corin was beginning to feel a little more at home. "And this chap, er… rabbit, Master Cotton, was it? He's taken your store of nuts under confiscation?" Corin addressed Mr. and Mrs. Squirrel in Cair Paravel's hall, sitting at a table near the fire—he refused to sit upon the King's Dais.

"That's right, Your Regency," said Mr. Squirrel, wringing his paws together. "And the misses and me… well—we've got nine babbies to feed…"

"I can understand the predicament," said Corin, glancing at his brother, who sat not far away, appearing to read a book. "Well, let us hear from Master Cotton."

"He's been brought here, Your Regency," said Tumnus kindly, entering with a long-eared rabbit hopping along behind him.

"What is this about taking the Squirrels' food supply?" asked Corin once the rabbit approached him and bowed.

"Begging your pardon," said Master Cotton, tugging his ears nervously, "It weren't no personal disrespect… I assure ye."

"How do you say?" asked Corin with surprise. "Taking another's food is deplorable. Was it to feed yourself? You know that the food stores at the castle are always open to animals in need. You needn't steal."

"Well," said Master Cotton, glancing at Mr. and Mrs. Squirrel nervously, "It weren't stealin' exactly, yer grace… and… and…"

"We've been friends for ages, Cotton," said Mr. Squirrel. "You know I'd have—"

"It's fer a surprise!" Master Cotton nearly shouted. "We're best mates, Squirrel, and don't ye fer a moment think I'd be robbing ye!"

"What is this?" asked Corin, trying very hard to be patient.

"It's Squirrel's birthday on Tuesday," said Master Cotton. "And… well, I dug him a new food store… the old one collapsed last winter. It was supposed to be a surprise…"

Mr. Squirrel looked dumbfounded. "Is this true?" he asked his friend. "Why… I'm… jiggered!"

Master Cotton brightened at the look of gratitude in his friend's eyes, and the two embraced. "I can show it to ye, if ye wants…" said the rabbit. "Though it was a surprise… thanks for trying to keep it, Mrs. Squirrel."

"Oh, I did my best," said the Squirrel's wife. "But he insisted on taking the matter to the Regent.: She sighed and patted her husband's arm—his face was pointed toward the ground, a sheepish humility having settled over him. "If you want my opinion, he just wanted to meet you sire," she said with a squirrelly curtsey toward Corin.

"You could have met me in any case," said Corin, slightly annoyed, but more amused than anything. "The doors of Cair will always be open. But you must know, Mr. Squirrel… accusing someone of thievery without getting all the facts is a serious matter." He looked at Master Cotton, who was happy, but seemed to be wondering how things would turn out. "You might have gone to your friend ns asked him first."

"That I should have, Your Regency," said Mr. Squirrel. "Master Cotton… will you forgive me?"

"Nothing to forgive, friend," said Master Cotton. "It's high time for your birthday party, though—if you've done wasting the Regent's time…" Mr. Squirrel looked even more humbled. The friends having made it up, they bid Prince Corin good bye and hurried off to their homes to celebrate Mr. Squirrel's birthday, and Corin laughed heartily as he sat nearer the fire to warm his hands.

"Well done, brother!" said Cor, shutting the book he'd been pretending to read.

"Indeed it was," said Tumnus, beaming at his new regent. "You are to be commended.

Corin said nothing, but the smile on his face was pleased, and he knew he was getting the knack of things. "I won't have to remain the entire month, I'll warrant," said Cor with a smile.

"No…" said Corin. "You should stay… I'll botch up the next case of stolen nuts, I'm sure."

"Nonsense," said Tumnus. "You are a first-rate ruler, sire," said Tumnus. Your father made a true choice."

"He did," Cor assured his bother. He was proud of Corin. Watching him over the last week had been amusing at first—and he wondered if Corin would be able to do well at his post, and he'd been pleasantly surprised. It seemed that Corin did better with animals than humans—and he'd taken the mantle of his responsibility seriously. But his confidence in himself was lacking, and Cor had the idea that his brother did not wish him to leave him alone. Regular correspondence with his father told him that King Lune was heartier than ever, and Cor was not needed back right away, so he might stay longer… but he'd had no letter from Aravis, though he'd written her on the second day of his arrival. He was torn between a curious wish to see her and anger at her refusal to write him back. Some friend she'd been. He missed their easy laughter and trusting camaraderie. But her surliness toward him made him wish to stay away longer. What had he to return to Archenland to, but her disapproval?