Chapter 9

After dismissing the crowd, Martan led the group back into the great hall, and turned to Melanie.
"Milady, if I could make a request, now that you are Lady, will you allow me to remain here at the castle until I can find a suitable apartment?"
Melanie furrowed her brow in confusion. "What? You are leaving, Milord?"
Martan shook his head, "Nay, since you have returned, the line of Lord Stewards is dissolved, by the order of Sir Taurin, and I am no longer called 'Milord,' only Martan."
Melanie raised her hand, "That being the case, I hereby dissolve the dissolution of Sir Taurin as my first act as the returned Lady Melanie, and you are reinstated as Lord Martan. You and your descendants may maintain residence in this castle, and the position of Lord Steward shall remain until my death! So say I!" She grinned, "Does that answer your request, Lord Martan?"
He looked at her with an awe-filled expression, "But you are more qualified to rule than I, on account of your experience!"
Something occurred to Melanie. "Martan," she said slowly, "exactly how long have you been Lord Steward of Nast?"
The young man looked sheepish. "I have been on that throne for two years, since my father died, but I confess I've been little more than an occupant of the throne."
Martan's insistence on leaving the castle reminded Melanie of another person, so long ago, who had been just as desperate for her rule, and his secret reason for such desperation.
"Martan," she asked, "If I sent you away, is there another occupation you would rather have, but your status as Lord has prevented you?"
Martan flushed awkwardly. "Well, y'see, Father ceased waiting for and expecting you when it came time to decide my education. He always treated me as if I would be Lord Steward after him. I learned about Nast and its laws, but all my tutelage took place here at the castle, from books and philosophers and such. Father intended to show me the province and teach me how to be a leader himself directly after his hunting expedition," Martan's voice grew very quiet, "only . . . he never quite returned, you know."
Melanie watched the young man, feeling the heartbreak of losing a dear one as she recalled old Lucasta. "Then . . . palace life is all you've ever known, is it?"
Martan nodded, "It's been my life from the day I was born. I have studied many skills, but I knew of nowhere to apply them in trade."
Melanie smiled empathetically, "All the more reason we ought to rule together, if I must be Lady again. I know the people, you know the palace, and we both know Aslan. We will balance each other out."
At this suggestion, Martan turned to Aslan, who had been waiting and listening silently all this while. "Aslan, sir," he said, "may I make a request?"
"Certainly, my son; ask whatever you will."
Martan took a deep breath. "I . . . I want to rule Nast the right way," he said. "All the previous Lords have ruled to glorify themselves, and set themselves up as law, and this land has suffered for it. I would . . . I want . . ." Martan dropped to his knees, "Aslan, I want you to be glorified in my rule. I want you to be my leader."
"Rise, Lord Martan," said Aslan, "and hear me: you have chosen wisely, and your insight has gone far beyond that of other Lords who are accustomed to leading many people. Therefore, Nast shall thrive because of your decision." He turned to exit the room. "Come with me, children," he said.
Melanie and Martan obediently followed the Lion down the halls and stairs until they reached the palace gardens. Here, he stopped.
"I will be here in the garden every morning. If you truly desire to be led by me—"
"We do, Aslan," both Lord and Lady said together.
"—then you may meet me here at the sixth hour, and we will walk and talk together. Will you agree to this?"
Melanie and Martan thought hard about this. The sixth hour of the morning was earlier than either of them was accustomed to, but such was their desire to follow Aslan that they chorused, "We will, Aslan."
The Lion nodded, "Then we will meet tomorrow." He walked softly between two nearby trees and disappeared.

The next morning, Melanie and Martan awoke early and ran to the garden. As he promised, Aslan stood underneath a tree at the front of the garden, waiting for them. They walked and talked with him for an hour, and came away glowing with the joy of spending time with Aslan. For a whole week they rose early to seek him, but one morning, Martan forced himself out of bed and into the hallway, where he usually met Melanie, and they would go to the garden together.
Melanie was not there. Concerned, he knocked on the door of her bedchamber and called her name. "Melanie?"
She did not answer. He poked his head inside the door. He could see her body as a lump beneath the covers. "Melanie?" he called, "It's time to meet Aslan." He knew she had been up late, entertaining a few of the ladies from the town, but she had asked him to waken her if she did not meet him.
"Melanie?" he said again. The lump on the bed moved, and Martan heard her groan.
"Coming . . . coming . . ." she murmured.
Martan went back out into the hall to wait for her. He sat down on a bench and leaned against the wall.
It seemed only a moment later that he jumped up at the sound of a bell. What was it, an alarm? No! It was the cook ringing the breakfast bell!
Martan jumped to his feet as Melanie burst out of her room, looking as if she had leapt from bed into her dress, and still combing her hair. "Breakfast?" she muttered, "how can it be time for breakfast?" She spotted Martan rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Why did you not wake me?" she demanded.
Martan stammered, "But-but I did! You said you were coming."
Melanie furrowed her brow. "I did? I don't remember you even coming in. Did you go out to meet Aslan anyway, without me?"
"Well . . . no, but—"
Melanie threw up her hands, "And now we've missed him, and it's all your fault!"
Martan stood defensively, "Now, just one moment! I at least woke up this morning, which was more than you did!"
The fight continued, lasting all day long. It seemed Martan and Melanie suddenly could not agree on anything, and fought and argued all day long. Neither one wanted to accept any blame for missing the morning's meeting. As Martan told Melanie before they retired for the night, "I tried to make the best of today, but you went and made the worst mess of the day!"
Melanie slammed her door against his sharp words. What had happened? She realized that when she tried to counterfeit the attitude she felt when meeting with Aslan, it was like trying to replace stones with paper: it was never as strong under pressure.
The next morning, she awoke early enough to be ready for the meeting, but she still harbored bitter feelings toward Martan. She did not wait for him.
When Melanie reached the garden, she saw Aslan waiting by the tree with his back toward her, and she felt her heart clutch with guilt at her anger. She couldn't face Aslan, not with yesterday's actions and choices, and certainly not with the attitude she had now! Melanie heard Martan's familiar footstep, and she silently climbed the tree next to her. Martan could meet Aslan; Melanie was sure he was in a better mood than she was.

"Good morning, Aslan," Martan said.

Aslan turned and looked at him. "Let us walk together," he said, as he always did.
Martan gave a little start of surprise, It was as if yesterday's meeting had happened like always! Aslan never said a word abut it, but I am sure he knew he didn't need to; Martan's own conscience proved sharp enough.
"I'm sorry, Aslan," he said, "About . . . yesterday."
Aslan stopped just below the tree where Melanie hid. "I was here yesterday, just as I promised. Why did you not join me?"
Martan sighed. "Well, you see, I awoke in time, but Melanie had entertained guests last night, and she did not awaken—"
"What concern is it of yours is Melanie's decision? Why would that hinder you, my son?"
Martan cocked his head toward the Lion. "You mean . . . I could have come alone?"
"Yes."
"Well, I see now that I made a wrong choice. Please forgive me, Aslan."
"I forgive you, my son. Do you then understand how you knew the choice was wrong?"
Martan pondered for a moment. "Yes, I do; everything went terribly, and we made wrong choices, and quarreled all day long. We need this time with you because it allows us to become better acquainted with your perspective."

By now, Melanie's conscience put her in such a state that she could not hold still. She silently climbed down from the tree. Martan looked up in surprise, and Melanie looked down in shame.
"Melanie," Aslan said, "You were here this morning; why did you hide?"
Melanie sighed and bit her lip. "Because I was . . . I was afraid. I felt unworthy because of my bitterness."
"Why would that prevent you from coming?"
Melanie looked up, startled and a little confused. "Well, because I thought you didn't want us to be angry or bitter."
"That is true, but when you speak of unworthiness, child, do you not recall all you have learned about worthiness? Who has dictated that you must have all your problems solved when you meet me in the mornings? I accepted you as my child in your supposed unworthiness, and just as I made you clean then, I can make you clean now."
Melanie sighed, "Oh, I wish you would! I am so burdened with all the wrong I've done. I overslept because I entertained guests rather than preparing for the morning as I ought to have done. Then I tried to hide my guilt, and to make decisions without consulting you, and everything was terrible. Moreover, when Martan tried to correct me, I answered him sharply, and this morning when I came to meet you, I was still angry, and it made me ashamed." She fell on her knees before Aslan. "Please forgive me for being so awful!"
Aslan lowered his head and kissed her. "You are forgiven my child; take courage in being able to confess your wrong by name, for then it will not become so much a part of yourself that you cannot identify it."
Melanie stood and turned to Martan next. "Martan, I want to apologize for—oh, for everything yesterday. I was a fool; will you forgive me?"
Martan nodded.
From then on, neither part forgot the meeting with Aslan.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\