"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown."
High King Peter Pevensie – the Magnificent – of Narnia sighed as the old Shakespeare line from Henry the Fourth went through his mind. The crown in question, though, did not lie on his head, but rather in his hands. The tall, lanky, brown-haired young man just stared at it as he stood in front of the mirror in his chambers at Cair Paravel. He didn't like feeling this way. He didn't like the doubt that crept through him. Why should he doubt himself? He was High King of Narnia. He had led an army into battle against the White Witch, and won! Aslan himself had declared him and his brother and sisters the rightful kings and queens of Narnia. What was there to doubt about himself?
Yet he did. After all, it hadn't been that long ago when he was just an ordinary school boy. Now he led an entire magical country. Over and over, he kept asking himself the same question.
Do I have what it takes to be a king?
Not just a king, but a good king.
The answer has to be yes. After all, I led Narnia in a war that we won.
But the war was over. So now what? What was the best way to make sure Narnia prospered? What to do about those Narnians not as well off as others? Were there any disputes among the population that needed settling? How could he and his siblings help maintain this new-found peace they fought so hard to achieve?
That last one brought him back to Aslan's warning just before he left.
"There is a darkness gathering on the horizon, a darkness that will test you, your siblings, all the people of Narnia. It is a test you must all face on your own. A test that will determine how great your desire is for peace and freedom."
Peter bit his lower lip. What exactly had Aslan been talking about? Another war? Hadn't they already suffered enough during the last one? So many good creatures had died in order to defeat the White Witch. Edmund had almost died, would have died had Lucy not given him a drop of her cordial.
He knew one thing. He could not sit on his throne and simply worry about Aslan's warning. He needed to act. Isn't that what a good king does when his kingdom is threatened?
He dispatched soldiers to all corners of Narnia in search of the remnants of the White Witch's army. Perhaps that's what Aslan meant by the gathering darkness. Perhaps they would regroup and attack Narnia again.
But a nervous tingle developed in the back of his head. Somehow, he had a feeling the threat Aslan spoke of had nothing to do with the White Witch's shattered army.
Sighing again, Peter placed the crown on his head and strode out of his spacious chambers. He didn't have time to stand in front of the mirror and worry. Susan – Queen Susan the Gentle – had suggested they spend the next few days touring some of the outlying villages and dwellings, making their presence known to their subjects and hearing whatever concerns they have. She and Edmund and Lucy were probably waiting for him in the stables.
"I was wondering when you'd show up." Susan greeted him with a wry grin as she stroked the neck of her horse.
"I'm not that late, am I?"
"Dad always said late is late," said Lucy – Queen Lucy the Valiant, "whether it's one hour or one second."
Peter couldn't help but chuckle as he stared at his little sister.
"All our provisions are loaded, Your Majesty," announced a stocky centaur with wild dark hair and a gray hide. "We can leave whenever you are ready."
"I'm ready now, Stonethunder," Peter answered the captain in charge of his personal guard. "Let's go."
Peter and his siblings rode out of the stables, their six centaur guards around them. He drew a breath of the sweet-smelling air and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun enveloping his body.
"What a beautiful day," Lucy said in her bubbly voice. "This is going to be so much fun. I can't wait to see who we're going to meet. I hoped they like us."
"You helped free our land from the White Witch, My Queen," said Stonethunder. "Whoever we meet will not simply like you, they will love you."
Lucy's smile widened. She practically bounced in her saddle. Just seeing his little sister's excitement made Peter forget about his earlier worries. He, too, became excited at the prospect meeting new creatures, perhaps making new friends. Speaking of friends, they must stop by the Beavers' home. After all those two had done for him and his family –
"Halt!" Stonethunder's hand snapped up.
"What is it?" Peter asked.
"In the sky." Stonethunder pointed.
Peter followed the centaur's finger and saw a large brown shape flying over the trees in the distance.
"That looks like a gryphon," stated Edmund – King Edmund the Just.
Seconds later, Edmund had his statement confirmed. Peter easily recognized the lion's body with the eagle's head and wings as it descended, getting closer to their party. Peter's brow furrowed when he noticed the gryphon clutched something in its right front talons.
"What's it carrying?" Susan wondered aloud.
Edmund leaned forward in his mount. "I think it's . . . some sort of animal."
"A tribute to your majesties, perhaps?" asked one centaur guard.
"We'll find out soon enough." Peter urged his mount forward as the gryphon pulled up, snapped its wings and landed.
"Swiftwind," he recognized the creature. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"Your Majesties." Swiftwind, the leader of the gryphons who fought the White Witch at Beruna, bowed before them. "I am sorry to disturb you, but what this one has to say is of great importance."
"Who?"
Peter watched Swiftwind lower his right front talons and release the creature in its grasp.
"Fox!" Lucy gasped.
Peter was the first off his mount, followed by Susan, Edmund and Lucy. The four hurried over to Fox, who laid on his side, panting.
"He looks exhausted," Susan noted as she knelt beside the animal.
"That he is, My Queen," responded Swiftwind. "I found him well beyond those trees, collapsed. I offered to take him to a place where he could rest and have food and water, but he insisted on seeing you."
"Oh, you poor thing." Lucy, her eyes glistening with tears, took the flask from her belt and uncorked it. She placed her hand under Fox's head, lifted it gently and poured some water into his mouth. Fox hacked a couple times, then licked his lips as though trying to snatch every single droplet of water he could.
"Th-Thank you. Your . . . Your Majesties. I'm so glad. I . . . I've been running . . . nearly two days. Barely stopped . . . hardly drank or ate anything."
A distraught look came over Lucy's face. She poured more water into Fox's mouth.
"A thousand thank yous, My Queen."
"Why did you almost run yourself to death, Fox?" Lucy stroked the animal's furry hide. "What's wrong?"
"Horrible. Just horrible."
"What's horrible?" asked Susan.
"What happened to them. That's why . . . why I couldn't stop running. You have to know. They . . . they killed them. All of them."
"Who killed who?" Peter leaned closer to Fox. "Where did this happen?"
Fox took a couple deep, raspy breaths. "The eastern side of the Empress Lake. A party of centaurs came across them."
"What party of centaurs?" Stonethunder demanded. "Who were they?"
Fox paused for a few moments. "Ahh . . . Guh . . . Gaenrorke. And he had a niece. Skyla."
Lucy gasped, covering her mouth with a hand. Susan put an arm around her. Edmund lowered his head.
A sick feeling burned in Peter's stomach. He had met Gaenrorke and Skyla in the Narnian encampment before the Battle of Beruna, and had spoken with them several times. Lucy struck up a fast friendship with Skyla. Could they really be dead?
"Fox." Peter's tone became more insistent. "You have to tell me what happened."
Fox took another greedy breath before speaking. "I spoke with . . . with the centaurs briefly. Went back to hunting a rabbit, they went on their way. Then . . . then they came." He closed his eyes and shuddered.
"Who came?" Peter asked.
"M-Men. Sons of Adam, like you and King Edmund. No, not like you. Because they . . ." A whimper escaped Fox's throat.
"Men?" Stonethunder tilted his head. "Do you mean Telmarines?"
"No. I don't think so. The weapons they had . . . never seen anything like them."
"What kind of weapons?" asked Edmund.
"They were . . . tubes. Tubes that spat fire and tore holes into the centaurs."
Edmund's face scrunched as he looked around at his siblings. "Sounds like he's talking about a gun."
"How can that be?" Susan turned to him. "There are no guns in Narnia."
"Please, My Queen," Fox pleaded. "You must believe me. I may have a dubious reputation, but I assure you, I am not lying."
Susan flashed him a smile. "I'm sorry." She patted his side. "I didn't mean to suggest you were lying."
"These men," Peter began. "What did they look like?"
"They were . . . strange. They wore regular clothes. No armor. And their weapons. Never have I seen centaurs defeated so easily."
The stomping of hoofs caught Peter's attention. He glanced to his centaur guards. All their faces were twisted in anger.
"It is impossible to defeat a centaur easily." Stonethunder scowled at Fox. "How dare you create such a lie, and how dare you spin it to our kings and queens?"
"Easy, Stonethunder." Peter raised a calming hand.
Stonethunder snorted and backed away. "Yes, Your Majesty."
Peter turned back to Fox. "Is there anything else you can tell us about these men? Did they say who they were? Where they were from?"
"One did. He called himself, uh, Otto. Otto Skar . . . Skrow . . . Skar-zon-ee."
Peter's jaw clenched. He had no idea about that second name Fox struggled with, but the first one, clearly that was . . .
No. Impossible.
"Fox." He bent down, his face mere inches from the animal. "This is very important. This Otto, did he say where he came from?"
"Yes, I think so. He mentioned something about a Jeer . . . Jeer-mine . . . Jeer-mine Reeck."
"You mean the German Reich?" Edmund's eyes widened.
"Yes," Fox answered. "Yes, that's correct, Your Majesty."
"Oh no." Lucy covered her mouth with both hands, while a look of disbelief fell over Susan's face.
Dread took hold of Peter. He stared at Fox in silence, his mind propelling him back to the world he and his siblings left behind. He pictured himself in the cellar, or huddled with hundreds of others in the underground, hearing the drone of numerous planes overhead, the pounding of anti-aircraft guns, the quakes from bombs striking London, Lucy crying, Edmund sitting against a wall, clutching his knees to his chest and trying not to look frightened.
"Germans in Narnia? How is that possible?" Susan gave voice to the question in his head.
"Maybe they came across a wardrobe as well." Peter noted how flat his voice sounded. "Maybe the one we went through isn't the only one in the world."
"But how many of them are there?" Edmund turned to him. "Are they actually invading Narnia?"
"Fox." Peter looked back down at the animal. "How many did you see?"
"Six."
"Most likely a scouting party," Stonethunder offered. "I suspect there is a much larger force back at this . . . German Reich waiting to act on the information provided to them by these scouts."
Peter let out a slow breath. He thought back to some of the newsreels he saw at the cinema, or the articles he'd read in The Times, of the Germans advancing through Europe and North Africa like an unstoppable juggernaut. He thought of Poland, Norway and France, all crushed so easily by the German military. He thought of Dunkirk, and how the British Army had been forced to board anything that would float to evacuate The Continent.
His chest tightened. Was this the test Aslan had talked about? Did they have to fight Nazis in Narnia? Could they do it? Could an army with swords and arrows and armor defeat one with rifles and machine guns and hand grenades?
What choice do we have? He could not just sit back and allow the Germans to conquer Narnia.
"Right then." Peter got to his feet. "Susan, you'll ride with me and Stonethunder's troop. We're going to the Empress Lake and see if we can find those Germans. Swiftwind. Assemble the other Gryphons. Have them search from the sky."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Swiftwind bowed.
"I want to come, too," Edmund pleaded.
"No, Edmund. I want you and Lucy to remain at Cair Paravel and help General Oreius organize our defenses here."
Edmund tensed, appearing like he wanted to argue. Instead, he exhaled and said, "All right."
A jolt of surprise went through Peter. It wasn't like Edmund to agree so quickly to any order he gave.
Maybe he's finally growing up.
"Lucy, you should take Fox back to the castle," Susan told her sister. "Make sure he gets food and more water, and a place to rest."
"Thank you, You Majesty," Fox said. "You are most kind."
As Lucy scooped up Fox in her arms, Peter and Susan remounted their horses and rode off with the centaurs. He mulled over Stonethunder's words, about how these Germans might be scouts for a larger force.
Peter tightened his grip on the reigns. They had to find these Germans, learn where they came from, and prevent any more of them from entering Narnia. If they couldn't . . .
He shuddered at the picture conjured by his mind's eye, one of a blood red flag emblazoned with a swastika hanging from the battlements of Cair Paravel.
XXXX
Even after three days, Skorzeny still stewed over the fact they couldn't pry a single bit of information from that damned freak of nature Gaenrorke. He still couldn't believe the centaur did not crack given all the cutting and slicing and chopping von Droth had done. Did all centaurs have a constitution similar to Gaenrorke's, rendering torture useless?
As a result, they still had very little information about Narnia. Luckily, they had encountered no other threats or surprises since their brief, one-sided skirmish with the centaurs. Though Skorzeny didn't expect their luck to continue. Luck had its limits, especially in wartime.
The sun started to set as the Hanomags rolled down a forest path. They soon ascended a small rise that led to a clearing overlooking a valley of trees and shrubbery.
Skorzeny called a halt. "This looks like a good place to camp for the night."
While the others unloaded their gear, he walked to the edge of the overlook and pulled out a pair of binoculars from a black leather case. A grumbling came from his stomach. Lord, he was hungry, and looking forward to supper, even it was field rations. But first things first. He scanned the valley below. No sign of any centaurs, or anything else for that matter. Hopefully it would stay that way for the rest of the night. Tomorrow, judging by the Jew's crudely-drawn map, they should reach the area . . . where . . . the . . .
Was ist das?
He gripped the binoculars tighter and leaned forward. Could he be mistaken? He adjusted the magnification and . . .
His chest swelled. Poking over a ridge was the unmistakable shape of a lamppost.
"All of you!" he hollered. "Get over here! Schnell!"
The other SS troopers hurried over, Heigl reaching him first. "What is it, Herr Obersturmfuhrer?"
Skorzeny didn't reply. Instead he handed the big Sturmscharfuhrer his binoculars and pointed. "Look over there. Tell me what you see."
Heigl put the binoculars up to his eyes. Several seconds passed before his mouth opened in astonishment. "A lamppost?" He lowered the binoculars and whipped his head toward Skorzeny. "The lamppost?"
"What else could it be?" A smile grew on Skorzeny's face. He then turned to the others. "Men. Forget about supper. Tonight, we're going to pay a little visit to England."
TO BE CONTINUED