Chapter 4: Regrets and Resolutions

Caspian the Tenth sat alone amidst the camps of Narnians –allowing his eyes to wander around him, surveying the campfires dotting the forest surrounding him. His gaze finally fixed to the fire before him, dancing and weaving its flames into the night sky. Despite his close proximity to the fire, Caspian was cold. The wariness that came when the Narnians first found and threatened to kill him, as well as the excitement of meeting such a large group of Narnians surviving within the depths of the forest had long since worn off. He sighed deeply as he contemplated himself; he was a true orphan now. His uncle Miraz ruthlessly betrayed him, even tried to murder him. And there was definitely no doubt whatsoever that the man was preparing to, if not already usurped his throne. The young prince looked from the fire to his hands; they were unceremoniously trembling. He was upset…no, more than upset. He was enraged. If it took his entire life and all his might, he swore against his father, Caspian the Ninth, that he would end his uncle and his tyranny and take it all back from him.

Once he had settled that, he thought about the Narnians surrounding him now. He had made a promise to them as well. They wanted their country back; that was for certain. He knew their history: about the High King and his siblings and the Golden Age –he knew the story of how they disappeared. He also knew that his ancestors had come through and massacred the leaderless Narnians, forcing the remnant to run and hide in the deepest parts of the forest, far from the Telemarines. They all just wanted their homes back, their freedom. He wanted to give it back to them. It had been personal at first; it was just Miraz and Caspian. Now he had thrown his lot in with the Narnians: he bound himself to them. He would share their fate.

Sorrowfully, his mind turned to what would no doubt be the first and would definitely not be the last martyr for the Narnian freedom: Trumpkin the Red Dwarf. Trumpkin had been the first to find him, the one to defend him from his uncle's troops when he'd run away some weeks ago. Trumpkin had quickly become his best friend; he knew he could rely on him for anything. He sighed bitterly. That was probably the reason Trumpkin was missing now.

Caspian had only been out there for a week when more troops fell upon him. At that time he'd only had Trumpkin, two Wildcats, another dwarf and a large Talking Mouse named Reepicheep with him. When it had been perfectly clear that they would not win, Trumpkin had forced him to run away with the rest of them, leaving Trumpkin, Reepicheep and one Wildcat to fight alone. The Wildcat had forced him to flee and he did so unwillingly. Fleeing the field of battle, he had run into a large group of Narnians. He was quickly accepted when the Narnians knew he was an outcast and they had waited for Trumpkin and the others to come back. That had been yesterday.

The moon had long since risen into the clear night sky above them. Caspian knew that the Narnians were eventually going to start looking to him for guidance once they were used to him and he wouldn't be of any good to them without clearing his mind and resting. Pulling his blanket tight around his shoulders, Caspian laid down, facing away from the fire. Try as he might, he couldn't sleep a wink. The glare from the campfire behind him cast a glow in front of him; in the brush nearby there was small movement. At first Caspian thought nothing of it; he merely assumed that some wild rodent was rustling around in the forest. When it happened again, Caspian grew wary. His professor had told him stories of the evil Narnians, the werewolves and the hags and ankle-biters and evil spirits and even though the Narnians he was with swore that High King Peter had wiped them out centuries ago, he still couldn't help but let his imagination run with him. Silently, he shrugged off his blanket and reached cautiously for his sword, moving slowly so that he wouldn't startle whatever was there until after he'd impaled it.

He stood over the rustling grass, ready to swing his sword into whatever lay down there when a Wildcat jumped out from the brush with a small brown lump attached to its back. When the lump began to move on the Wildcat's back, Caspian began to scream in surprise. At least, he screamed until the lump leaped toward him and stifled the noise from Caspian's mouth with its small hands. As Caspian looked up he saw the glint of the fire shining from the lump's ear; he knew it was Reepicheep, who religiously wore a gold circlet over one ear.

"Your Majesty!" he beseeched. "If you would please, be quiet! Most of us are still sleeping!" When he was sure that Caspian would be quiet he removed his tiny hands from Caspian's mouth.

"What's the news, my friend?" Caspian implored Reepicheep, looking behind him to see if Trumpkin was behind him.

Reepicheep blanched and grabbed hold of his tail, something he only did when he was nervous. The Wildcat limped to Caspian, placing his head into his lap. "Sire," he began slowly. "We were forced to leave. The Telemarines outnumbered us; we couldn't hold them back." At this Caspian's head drooped to his hands. "We got separated. Trumpkin led most of the Telemarines off, away from the path you had taken, but when we noticed that he was gone, we couldn't follow him." Reepicheep dropped his head sadly. "I've run the entire distance here to relay this news to you, Sire."

The Wildcat jumped up from Caspian's side and growled at the Talking Mouse. If the bragging Mouse had run the entire distance, he would've never made it. His legs had been too short and stubby –not fit at all for such a long and arduous journey, although the prideful Mouse would never admit to such a thing. "Your Majesty, if you please," the Wildcat hissed painfully.

Caspian turned his attention to the wincing Wildcat at his sides, noticing blood speckling his furry coat. "What has happened to you, dear friend?"

"I've been carrying that brute the entire way," the Wildcat growled at Reepicheep.

The Talking Mouse was indignant. "Brute? I am far from it. I am a professed Knight of the Order of the Lion, a Knight of Narnia."

"Knight, indeed!" the Wildcat scoffed. "If anyone should be rewarded, it should be me! If it hadn't been for me, you probably wouldn't have made it out alive." The Wildcat turned its head to face Caspian squarely. "This Mouse sunk his little claws into my back the entire way; he's been scratching me since we left. And that horrendous sword of his! It's been jabbing me in the side all day. It took everything in me not to scream and yowl and let the whole Telemarine army know where we were!" The Wildcat paused to lick his throbbing wounds.

This was too much for the proud Talking Mouse to bear; he was tired of being offended by other Talking Animals. "I will not suffer your insults before our Royal Person, our soon-to-be King of Narnia." Pulling his blade from its sheath, Reepicheep readied himself to fight in the name of defending his honor against this Wildcat. "En guarde, villainous feline!" Reepicheep proclaimed.

Despite his scratches from the long journey, the irritated Wildcat leapt back to center the obnoxious Talking Rat in his sights. Fiercely, Reepicheep brandished his sword over his head and brought it to guard with a flourish. Almost immediately the Wildcat swatted the Talking Mouse's sword out of his tiny hands and into the brush they had come out of. "I have had enough of you, Sir Mouse," the Wildcat hissed angrily. "You will not be impaling anyone tonight."

Caspian wisely thought it time to intercede; kneeling between the quarrelling Narnians, he began to speak. "Honorable gentlemen I implore you, please stop fighting! Now is a time to rest; tomorrow they shall surely have us on the move."

Immediately Reepicheep turned to Caspian, bowing deeply to the soon-to-be king. "Of course, My Liege. I bid you a good night sire." He turned to the brush and retrieved his sword and went off to check on his own charges.

Caspian glanced back at the Wildcat, who had laid itself down and proceeded to lick its wounds. "Honor…" the Wildcat scoffed. "His honor…What about me? Am I to suffer for that indignant Rat's honor?"

Caspian gently patted the Wildcat's head. "What is your name, dear friend?"

The Wildcat's sharp green eyes peered at the young prince. "Merimba, if it pleases Your Majesty."

"Please, Merimba. Call me Caspian. I am not King of anything yet. And I will not walk around as if I am King until I have set everything right, until I have taken back what has been stolen from me." Caspian's eyes held a fiery glint as he spoke. "And only when I have given the Narnians back the land given to them will I reclaim the throne and protect them all. But until then, I am merely Caspian." Caspian opened his arms and, after staring warily, Merimba allowed Caspian to carry him to the healers' tent, where Caspian worked diligently to bind Merimba's wounds.