Bang bang! It's Lupus again?! Holy-moly! Here with that sickness because, playa, I'm ill! Back to back, like a heart attack, and it just got serious, like this chapter. As I'm sure you've noticed, the chapters thus far have had a song somehow integrated in with the plot. This one has no such song, as most chapters will be from now on, but I would feel amiss if I didn't offer some suggested listening: "Lost in the Echo" by Linkin Park, chosen for King Edmund the Just and his deep-seated issues. (Furthermore, I do not own Chronicles of Narnia. There. I said it.)
Scarlette was cutting meat in the kitchen with her hair tied back in a ponytail. Berthrix, the kitchen matron, a minotaur woman, remarked on how she resembled her tattoo of a hatchet girl that showed on her upper arm beneath the sleeve of her peasant top. The tattoo was done in a friends home by an apprentice who drew it freehand. As a result of some smudging, her hatchet was tall and squared out, much like the meat cleaver in her hand.
She'd been at Cair Paravel for roughly 6 weeks and had insinuated herself into the kitchen staff. The culture shock was more bearable if she was somewhere she understood. Aslan's breath seemed to cause her to heal faster than normal because today was her first day using only a cane. Scarlette, being left-handed, had to learn to do things with her right hand and only her right hand while using the crutch, a knobby wooden thing carved from a tree-branch.
Scarlette had a sufficient store of clothing she could stand: shirts and pants with stockings and boots. She was now used to going braless and not shaving. It was a very warm day in late summer. The harvest bacchanal was quickly approaching in a mere 3 weeks and preparations were already underway. There was rakia to make, preserves to boil and can for the winter, and many hunks of meat already curing. Scarlette was prepping for that night's dinner.
Berthrix shouted an exasperated expletive when there was a quick rapping on the door near the ovens. She answered it, daring whoever was behind that door to give her a good reason for the interruption with the very way she opened it. Standing there was Master Tumnus.
"Excuse me, Madam Berthrix. May I borrow Scarlette?" he asked. Berthrix looked over to see Scarlette wiping down the prep surface, everything put away.
"Ye can, I s'pose."
Master Tumnus and Scarlette were standing in the corner of a cleared field left to rest for a season. There stood three proud plants, the parentage of which is as follows: the burnt seed was Purple Haze, and the shortest of the plants; the tall purple plant was Purple Voodoo; and the bright green one in the middle was the tallest of all as well as the most pungent. Scarlette felt embarrassed for regarding the three seeds that grew as trash.
"Is it supposed to smell like this?" Master Tumnus asked.
"It is, actually. That strain is called Cat Piss, officially."
"And the other two?"
"See, I'm not sure which is which since they're both purple, but I think the shorter one is Purple Haze and the tall one is Purple Voodoo." Scarlette guessed. She was, in fact, correct. "These three are all very strong strains. In my world they were always too expensive to buy. I had friends who would let me have bowls of theirs. And the Golden Goat didn't grow, then?"
"It did not. I suppose it explains why that seed wasn't included with the others. Maena have a way about nature and things that grow."
"I hope Susan won't be disappointed." said Scarlette. Susan was excited when she discovered the fourth seed and very much looked forward to smoking that strain again.
"Disappointed by what?" asked Queen Susan from behind them.
"Your seed didn't grow."
"Oh. A pity. But these-" Susan said with awe. "So cats like these, then. Didn't you say something about growing indoors?"
"No, that's just how that strain smells. It's called Cat Piss for a reason. Very potent acting, too." Scarlette said as she squatted by Purple Haze to get a closer look at the bud formation. "These plants are still in the vegetation stage. When they flower is when you need to harvest usually, but let these three seed. You can harvest later crops in their prime, just as they begin to seed or just before, for maximum quality. Once they flower, I can show you how to cure them."
"You cure them? Like meat?" asked Susan.
"Does it cook the stench out?" snarked Master Tumnus.
"Not like that. Sort of like drying a flower. You hang it upside down for a couple of weeks, then you take it off the stem and keep it in a jar for another couple of weeks. You have to burp the jars, though. That's where you open them for 10 minutes a day to let moisture out. And the weed needs to be kept in the dark for the whole curing process. It makes the weed a lot stronger."
"Why do you INSIST on calling it 'weed'?" Master Tumnus said with some exasperation.
"Sorry, damn." Scarlette retorted. "I don't know where that name for it comes from. There's a lot of names for it. As many names for cannabis as there are for sex, especially if you count the names of the individual paks."
"Pack?" asked Susan.
"That's another word for strain, or breed. There are thousands. More breeds of marijuana than there are dogs."
"Then there's male and female plants." figured Master Tumnus. Scarlette slapped her forehead.
"Oh damn! If these are all female- Hey, are there hemp plants here?"
"Madam! Do stay on the subject! Nobody asked about actual weeds!"
"Hemp is what cannabis comes from. It's like how we turned wolves into dogs."
"I don't even begin to know how you did that in your world, but I'll take your word for it. You're saying we could breed these three ladies with some common hemp?" asked Master Tumnus. "There's the answer to why you call it weed."
"Yes, if they are all female, you will have to. They won't seed otherwise." Scarlette replied.
"So you can't tell?" asked Susan.
"It's impossible to tell until they flower. The females bloom while the males produce seed pods. The males are less potent." Scarlette informed.
"How long?" asked Master Tumnus after a long pause.
"It should be only a couple weeks now. Just before the Harvest Bacchanal." Scarlette replied. She looked over the whole field and saw it full of rolling cannabis in her minds eye. She was gently pulled from her revelry by Susan.
"Would you like to walk with me upon the shore as now your crutch is not in use? I can hold your arm so you might negotiate the sand without your cane." Susan offered.
"Sure." Scarlette replied with a smile. "I will see you later, Tumnus." Master Tumnus nodded his head without looking away from the three proud ladies.
"I remember at Job Corp., there was a girl on our floor who was a Muslim. She wore the Hijab and used a watering can she called a 'lota' to wash herself after she used the bathroom. I never thought in a million years I'd be doing the same thing one day. Now I wish I'd asked her more questions." Scarlette related.
"Do you think you could possibly have a chamber pot in your room now? I hate to see you always crutching all the way down to the guards outbuilding, especially now. All the contingents are returned after beating back the Calormenes at the edge of the Western Wilds." Susan gripped Scarlette around the waist by the hip snugly while holding Scarlette's shoulder with her other hand so Scarlette leaned against her as they walked slowly by the surf.
"No. I don't think I can squat yet." Scarlette said as she blushed. "Why didn't your brothers go to war this last time?"
"Because the Wilds are just that: wild. Many who were loyalist under the White Witch fled there and now subsist in their own world of anarchy. We are simply not welcome, though King Edmund is tolerated as long as he brings tribute."
"I see." Scarlette said.
Just then, a group of mermaids came to serenade them as mermaids there were wont to do. Scarlette, having never seen the shore up-close, was fascinated and delighted. In truth, she felt like a little girl playing with mermaid dolls in the tub, only the feeling of the moment was far more potent. Susan sat down with Scarlette and fanned her skirt out to her right so Scarlette could have a place to sit.
"If you had your own skirt, you wouldn't have to borrow mine. Why do you not wear gowns? I know they'd suit you."
"I don't feel quite myself in them. I prefer this." Scarlette gestured down at he peasant top with it's lace closure, exposing her midriff, her open leather vest, and her soft hide pants designed for use by rangers and other woodsman so they might protect their legs from even the thorny bushes. Her feet were bare for walking in the sand, but she usually had on knee-high boots that suited her well.
"You dress like a pirate, you know." teased Susan.
"You don't know what casual is, then." retorted Scarlette. "Look at you, perpetually stunntin'." Susan laughed. Since knowing Scarlette, she'd learned all manner of strange slang.
"I cannot very well execute my work without looking the part, now can I." stated Queen Susan.
"That depends: what do you do all day?" asked Scarlette.
"While my brothers talk with diplomats and politicians and governors and deal with matters of state, I am the one who deals directly with the public and the Court. I keep the communication open between my brothers and the rest of the contingents of the citadel. And I listen to the people's grievances and pass judgement on the smaller matters, leaving the larger ones for Edmund. The High King is the least engaged with the people out of all of us and speaks mostly to other leaders. He's our King over every King and Queen of Narnia. Ed and I are merely King and Queen over the people." she said as she stared at the sea.
"So you're like your brothers' deputy, then."
"Pretty much." Susan said, imitating the way Scarlette said the same phrase. "What do you do all day?"
"I prepare ingredients and man the skillets. I also pluck fowl, churn butter, do dishes duty which we all share, anything where I can stay in one place or sit down, really." she said. "And I listen to everyone talk about everyone else's business. I keep my mouth shut, though."
"Sounds nice and uncomplicated." Susan said softly.
"That's the one good thing about kitchens. Everything is time sensitive and requires some level of focus, even when you're on autopilot, so you can really get completely lost in the flow of things. It's like there's nowhere else but that place and nobody else but cooks, waitstaff, and somewhere in the distance, whoever you're cooking for, out of sight. Out of mind."
"But you dine with us. We cannot be truly out of mind, can we?" Susan said vulnerably as she leaned closer.
"Sometimes." Scarlette said softly. They were slowly moving closer to one another until Susan snapped to attention and drew away just in time. King Edmund was approaching.
"Ahoy!" he shouted. Susan gave Edmund a saccharine smile then turned back to Scarlette with a look that clearly said one thing:
"Later."
Scarlette stood awkwardly in the training room, leaning on her cane. She looked around at all the weapons laid neatly on shelves that lined one wall and the smooth floor. Practice dummies in various conditions stood in a row along one wall of windows. This room was in a corner and thus had two walls full of large windows that let in ample light. She thought it would make a brilliant artist's studio.
"Are you sure I'm ready for this?" she asked warily.
"Yes, I believe you are. This practice will help you heal better, in fact. Worry not; we will be working on your stance alone. That's where you start: learning to stand with the sword in hand."
"O-ok. I believe I can handle that." Scarlette said with hopeful trepidation.
"On your guard then, madam." he retorted, handing her a sword. "Remove it from the scabbard." Scarlette let her cane drop as she reached for the weapon. "Pull it from it's sheath." She did so and felt it's weight, instinctively finding the point of balance. She tried an experimental swing.
"STOP!" King Edmund shouted. She nearly dropped her sword. "Never swing a bladed weapon when you don't know what you're doing. Men have cut their own guts open doing this." He held out his hand for the sword. She handed it over, embarrassed. He traded with her a wooden practice sword. "Now, imitate my stance and hold it." he said as he held the sword up and settled into the first stance she'd learn. She did as he instructed and held her breath. "Breathe." he said with a little impatience. She breathed.
After a moment he approached her and corrected her stance. Both her legs ached: the broken one from weakness and the strong one from the strain of picking up the slack. Due to the newness of the form and muscle fatigue, she kept bending where she should remain straight and straightening where she should remain flexed. King Edmund continued to tell her to straighten her core and bend her knees when she'd drift off position.
Only when she was visibly shaking did he let her sit and rest. She dropped the sword and put her head in her hands. She dripped with sweat just from standing. It was like yoga but with one single position, perpetually. Her palms ached from the pressure against the unforgiving wood. She was breathing harder and harder until she yelled:
"Damn that Lion!" the silence that followed was like a slap. "Stupid leg!" she added.
"He helped you." Edmund said in a dead serious tone.
"He's the reason I'm here. My leg is broken now so I can't even hold the sword right!"
"It takes practice. Standing with the sword is the first lesson. You will learn to maintain several stances before we move onto learning the blocks, strikes, and thrusts. The stance is the foundation of-"
"I don't give a shit! God! I don't want to be here!"
"Cease this now, girl!" King Edmund admonished. "You will resume this lesson and give it your full focus!"
"Or what?" she stood, forgetting the weakness in her left leg. "What are you going to do, huh? What if I just walked the fuck on out of here and found my own way home and fuck up all of Aslan's plans? What then!"
"You're right. The choice is yours, but think of who you would be hurting. Thousands depend on a new regime in Ettinsmoor. Their current Queen, the Mad Queen Jezmae, is an evil and murderous tyrant. She's immortal, so she's killed every heir save one who is living anonymously in that city and you are going to find him before it's too late!" He stepped forward. "Do not turn your back on this."
"So we just topple a regime because we don't agree with their ideals and say it's because their leader was bad? Where have I heard of that shit before? Oh, right. Every pointless war America has been in for the last few decades."
"Oh! You think you know war? You think you know what war is? You know nothing of toppled buildings, of lawlessness, of children roaming the streets in gangs for protection, smoking cigarettes and looking at the world with the eyes of an old man! Of air raid sirens and days underground, of every adult being so preoccupied that all manner of things, the likes of which would horrify you, go unnoticed?"
"You're right. I don't know what that's like, but what does that have to do with Aslan?"
"Everything! He's the reason that-" King Edmund choked on tears a little. "He saved me. He saved my life. He saved my heart. He saved my very soul."
"What happened?" she asked, sitting back down.
"What I am about to tell you I have told nobody, but if anyone needs to hear it, it's you." he pulled up a chair and turned it around to sit backward on it. "When I was a boy during the Blitz, there was a woman in the neighborhood who used to give out all manner of nice things to eat. Whatever she could afford. She saved the best bits, though, for her victims. There was four of us siblings and, honestly, I think our mother was grateful to this monster for her so-called help.
"This woman singled me out, told me I was special, ahead of the other children. We'd sit and talk for hours or play games. Over time the games became stranger and I wasn't entirely comfortable with them, but in my eyes this woman could do no wrong. What she groomed me to do was vile, perverse, and she was utterly dominating. My very soul was crushed.
"I began running with the boys I used to run from. I was sneaking cigarettes and rum and stealing from my mum and siblings. I lied constantly. I was even mean to stray dogs. All because of this secret. She'd convinced me I would be in trouble and reviled for the rest of my days if I told anyone. She told me only bad people broke their promises and she made me promise.
"And any time I didn't want to play, she became frightening. She locked me in a room once and refused to let me out for a whole night until I did what she required of me. When I learned my siblings and I were to be refugees and go to the countryside, I was a storm of emotion. As much as I was relieved, she'd made me dependent on her for my very sense of self.
"When we were newly in the country manor in which we were hosted, my younger sister Lucy came to us older siblings with stories of another country you could get to through a wardrobe, I felt she was asking for it, so total was my sense of justification. When I stumbled into Narnia myself, it was as if righteousness had been snatched from me, and lo! Then came a sledge upon which rode the White Witch. She first was kind and I felt that I knew the score.
"I listened to all her promises. She promised to make me a prince when I was destined to be a King all along. I accepted her black magic food that was terribly addictive. My favorite candy. I can no longer stand Turkish Delight. I betrayed my siblings to her because I thought I knew what she wanted. She proved to be murderous and not licentious, however, wishing only to keep Narnia in the grip of her perpetual winter.
"When my siblings flew from the White Witch's guard, she bound me and flew after them. When the sledge would no longer run as her winter melted away, she forced me to march. She quite nearly killed me there in the woods. Aslan was the reason she didn't.
"After I was rescued, He took me aside and asked me why I'd done what I did. I had no answer. He asked my why I was sometimes mean-spirited. I had no answer. He asked my why I lied, stole, and smoked. I said I didn't know. He told me that he knew why. He asked my about the war and by this I was stunned. I never imagined he could know anything about my world, but I played it and said 'What bloody of it, then'.
"He told me it mattered. He told me he knew what my neighbor had done and that it was just as wrong as it felt. And he told me that our pain is usually what causes us to cause pain in others. Using pain to justify doing harm is fed by the belief that what hurt you was supposed to happen, that it's your fault you weren't strong enough and that pain is now supposed to happen to others because they are not strong enough and, ultimately, this need to cause this pain is merely the pursuit of power to numb the wound. This is how people like my selfish neighbor feed their maladapted ambitions.
"There was a law in the deep magic stating the White Witch had a right to the life of every traitor in this whole world and that's what I was. Now she had me in her grasp and nothing would inspire her to let me go. That's why Aslan offered up his life for mine. And he made good on his promise.
"Sue and Lu both looked on from the tree-line as they bound him, mocked him, killed him. They wept over him as the sun rose. The great stone table, a table that saw so much blood spilt by that vicious blade, broke down the middle and Aslan came alive again, for he was an innocent, and his spilt blood broke the hold of that law forever more. We went to war that day and destroyed the witch and her army.
"That same witch, Jadis, mothered the Mad Queen Jezmae. Jezmae is very strong in magic and she is growing more and more erratic by the day. Where her mother was focused, she is impulsive. She is also shockingly violent.
"Aslan may have inconvenienced you, but trust that he is good. He is goodness incarnate, and he is not a tame lion. He does not exist to please. That's not what goodness is."
Scarlette was speechless. For the first time since being here, she truly felt it wasn't all about her. She realized she'd been a survivor for so long she'd forgotten there was a whole world she was a part of, and now there were two worlds. One of them depended on her. King Edmund broke the silence.
"We will resume tomorrow. You are dismissed."
