Chapter 9
By dawn the next morning, the storm had abated and the sun shone brightly in the eastern sky. Good men that they were, neither Reepicheep nor Pith said anything about Edmund's flight into the storm the night before, although Lucy did not quite believe that Edmund had merely decided to take a walk in the midst of a gale. In the daylight, Edmund felt more ashamed of his actions and despair, of the fear that was not so near under the sunrise. He put it behind him for now, however, and helped the others as they all recovered from the storm.
The Dawn Treader had weathered the night well. The sailors busily patched up the few wounds she had obtained, while Cream the cat hissed her displeasure at having been left alone in the wet to any who neared her (Pith's embarkation calmed her – mostly because he brought her fresh fish). Eustace was no help at all, complaining as he was about the smell of wet animals and his still-muddy clothes, but at least he no longer cowered whenever Lucy came near him. The kings and queen lent a hand wherever they could, and attempted negotiations with the Dufflepuds for supplies. Lucy had the most luck, and the Dawn Treader was soon packed with new goods in exchange for 'Tuffet' socks (which fascinated the Dufflepuds by their smallness) and agricultural advice from Edmund and a few of the sailors who were also farmers.
By the time all was packed and the ship readied, it was late afternoon. Still, the blue star hung brightly in the eastern sky, light flickering as if urging them to follow. So it was that Caspian, Edmund, and Lucy bid Coriakin farewell as they prepared to board the last longboat. The man who was a star bowed to them and gave a final warning: "Do not deviate from the star's path, your majesties, for the power of Dark Island will do whatever possible to thwart your quest, whether through violence or by using your fears and temptations against you."
Edmund shifted at that, remembering his fear from the night before; still he noticed that Lucy and Caspian looked uncomfortable as well. He supposed it was the way Coriakin's eyes could sometimes seem to bore into their souls. The kings and queen returned the bow and Caspian spoke for them. "We will keep your warnings in mind. Thank you for your hospitality."
Coriakin smiled and the three entered the longboat. Edmund looked back at the shore as they rowed away: Coriakin stood alone, but glimpses of interested Dufflepuds peaked out from the forest. A small voice called out, "Bye-bye, Tuffets!" Edmund waved back to where a gaggle of Dufflepud children were jumping up and down by the shore. As the children's parents rushed to herd them away, the Narnians in the boat laughed.
"They grow on you, I think," commented Lucy.
"Indeed," said Edmund, in purposeful imitation of Coriakin's deep, solemn voice, and the Narnians laughed again, even as they drew up to the side of the Dawn Treader. Once on board, they quickly set sail, moving out of the harbor to open seas. The blue star pointed them east-southeast, a course Drinian followed closely at the wheel.
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The next day, Lucy was helping some of the sailors do some patching on one of the sails (one that was not presently being used, Edmund was thankful to see; for Lucy had no compunction about hanging upside-down from a rope to use her sewing skills on billowing canvas). Caspian was recording inventory in the hold, and since that was one of Edmund's least favorite jobs, he decided to live with the guilt and leave his friend to it.
Instead, he climbed the crow's nest and relieved the lookout up there. Having spent so much of his time in Narnia climbing the tallest trees in the Western Woods, Edmund had no fear of heights, and so he contentedly sat on the wooden planks, gazing out to sea. After the storm, the air had cleared considerably, and a cool, soft wind blew. Evening would fall all-too-soon, but for the moment Edmund let himself enjoy the heat of the afternoon sun.
Rather than dwelling on nightmares, Edmund forced his thoughts away from darkness to what lay ahead of them. He wondered about the Mountain of Light on Ramandu's Island, of the sacred stone of Aslan's Table. He had rarely dared to even touch the Stone Table in Narnia, despite the fact that it had always brought comfort when he did so. What would a hallowed mountain be like, or a table that still held that Stone Knife which had been infused with Aslan's blood? And yet, that land was not even Aslan's Country.
Edmund supposed the whole crew had been touched in some way by Reepicheep's whole-hearted desire to sail to the world's end and the country that was said to lie there. He thought Caspian's dream a testament to that, for the pull of the east was certainly on the older king, and it did not seem to be just a desire to follow the blue star. Edmund had heard several sailors speak off-handedly about sailing to the end of the world, and he knew Pith – devoted near-chaplain that he was – spoke often with Reepicheep as the two stared east (and while Pith held Cream back from her relentless pursuit of the Mouse). Lucy had the same, distant look in her eyes occasionally as well. Edmund recalled the conversation he had had with her on this same crow's nest on the day before Coriakin's Island had come into sight:
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Flashback
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"Do you think Reepicheep is right?"
Edmund looked down at his sister, who sat next to him, high above the others. "Right about what?" he asked as his fingers deftly twisted the thick rope he was repairing.
Lucy's eyes remained on the eastern horizon. "About Aslan's Country. That it lies at the end of the world, and we could sail there, if our duty allows."
Edmund paused in his work, and thought a long moment before answering. "Well, this is a flat world, according to even the science of the matter if one thinks about it. And Aslan always came from over the Eastern Sea, from where even in our time some believed he had a home. Whether it's Aslan's Country, as we know of it…I'm not sure it makes logical sense. After all, Aslan's Country is where the dead dwell, so how could the living set foot there?" He smiled at Lucy. "But then, few things in this world are logical, according to Eustace."
They young queen smiled back, but her mind was still focused East. "I think…I think it must be a wonderful place. Narnia was always more beautiful when Aslan was there, even for a moment. Can you imagine what a country where Aslan always dwelled would be like?"
Rope forgotten, Edmund put his arm around his sister's shoulders. "Maybe, at the end of this, we'll get to see."
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End Flashback
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It was a calming memory. If, at the end of all things, he ended up in Aslan's Country – one way or another – surely that was not something to fear? Yet it was still an unknown, still a dream, a desire. A hope in something shrouded by shadow.
The calm was broken when Edmund caught sight of movement far in the east. He squinted, trying to make out what it was. It was moving, fast, and by its apparent trajectory it would come quite near them. "Ahoy, bow!" he called down, alerting the others that there was something in front of them. Whatever it was came swiftly closer, and Edmund's eyes widened as he made out its form and color. He began scrambling down from the crow's nest on the rope ladder, shouting at Caspian, who was below him, as he moved. "It's the green mist! Hard to starboard!" The order spread and Drinian spun the wheel hard. The movement caused the ship to shudder, and Edmund clung to the rope ladder to keep from falling. Hurtling down the last few feet as quickly as he could, Edmund automatically reached for his sword; though, what use it would be against a fog, he did not know.
Lucy joined Edmund and Caspian as they raced to the port bow. The green mist came ever nearer, slowing as it reached the port side of the ship. A chill fell over the crew, and they all stopped in their tracks. Time itself seemed to slow as everyone on deck stared at the wall of deadly-green that towered over the waves. The sky seemed to darken as the mist loomed above them. It was entrancing, alluring, and yet repulsive at the same time.
A growl rose up from the mist, and suddenly Edmund could hear echoes of his nightmare, the sounds of battle and death, shrapnel and explosions and screams. Beside him, Lucy had paled dramatically and let out a strangled cry; on the other side, Caspian had taken a step backward, his face showing bewilderment and hurt. And yet Edmund, while he noticed their reactions, could not do anything for them, for he was overcome by the sounds of war, the feeling that he was back in the Atlantic, awaiting some dark doom. The others of the Dawn Treader were similarly affected by the mist. Edmund, beneath the icy fear that kept him frozen in place, vaguely realized how vulnerable they were at the moment. Everyone was stuck, petrified in their own fears. Even Reepicheep struggled to move; granted, from his mutterings he was resisting far better than his crewmates. But the darkness coming from the green mist had fallen on all of them.
All of them except one, small cat who decided to use her minder's distraction to follow her one, greatest dream.
"Agh! Back, you devil!" shouted a startled Reepicheep as Cream pounded happily on his tail. The cat screeched in disappointment and pain as the Mouse rapped her on the head with the flat of his sword. The sound of the confrontation reached into the consciousness of the crew, jolting them out of the icy grip of the mist. Edmund shook his head, still hearing battle, but having a sense of the distance, the falsehood. As he looked closer, he noticed that the mist, instead of using their distraction for attack, remained just outside the hull of the Dawn Treader.
Edmund sheathed his sword, which he had unknowingly unsheathed as he stood before the wall of mist. He grabbed Caspian's arm. "Caspian! Caspian, we need to get everyone moving." Caspian blinked, looking at Edmund in confusion. Edmund shook his arm. "Come on! Whatever it is, get over it, we need to get away from here."
Finally, Caspian moved, and the two kings traversed the ship. Thanks to Reepicheep and Cream (the latter now hiding from the former in Pith's arms), most of the sailors were already starting to shake off the enchantment. The Dawn Treader was soon back under way, moving quickly from the wall of green mist and towards the sparkling blue star. The mist growled, but did not follow. Instead, the wall collapsed and the mist flew westwards on the wind.
As the crew continued to pick themselves back up, still shaky from the experience, Edmund made his way to Lucy, who still stood portside, looking at where the mist had disappeared. "Lu? Are you alright?" he asked. At his voice, Lucy whirled and threw her arms around him, burying her face against his chest. Startled, but not surprised, Edmund hugged her tightly against him. "It's alright, it's gone, it wasn't real," he told her, his voice soft and low. He tried to consciously mimic Peter's voice, and how he would so often comfort the younger Pevensies. Edmund did this until Lucy's body stopped shaking, when he felt it was safe to ask, "Do you want to tell me about it?"
Lucy stiffened a moment, before looking up at him, tears still in her eyes. "I…I thought I heard the sound of Chimerae and Efreets coming after me. It was terrifying," she whispered and then her face was once again pressed against his chest, and Edmund was back to using Peter's comforting words.
Even when she had finally calmed and left to go wash her face, Edmund did not call her on her lie.
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The encounter with the green mist subdued the spirits of the crew. No one could figure out why the ship had not been taken like those of the Lone Islanders, and the suspense turned their thoughts dark. Drinian encouraged the rumor that the mist feared the presence of the gifts of the Four Sovereigns on board; it was a logical guess, and kept the crew's spirits from sinking too low.
While even the kings and queen were still shaken from the encounter, they did their best to uplift the spirits of the crew. Edmund told stories of his sea-journeys during the Golden Age; Lucy was ever ready with a smile and encouraging word; and Caspian spoke often of the honor and glory of those who would sail into the unknown, even to the end of the world. Their work was not helped, however, by Eustace, whose continual complaints and declarations that they were all going to die on the ship did nothing to aid morale.
For nearly a week they sailed on without sight of land, mist, or anything else marring their route east. They followed the blue star, day and night, as she journeyed across the sky. As the memories of the mist began fading, morale picked up. Surely they would come upon something soon, whether Ramandu's Island or another land on which to replenish their stores. Unfortunately, as soon as things began looking up, disaster struck.
Or, rather, they struck disaster.
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The Dawn Treader groaned, jerking abruptly as if it had scrapped hidden rocks. She tilted, and sailors were sent flying starboard, across hold and deck alike. Caspian and Edmund, who were just about to make their way up from the hold, got tossed off the ladder, sprawling across the room. The supplies they had been carrying scattered, and the two kings looked at each other before scrambling to their feet. The floor below them was angled, and they unsteadily made their way back to the ladder and up to the deck.
"What was that?" Caspian shouted up to Drinian, who was struggling with the wheel.
"We're turning against the rudder!" shouted back Lucy as she stumbled across the slanted deck towards them. The three made their staggering way to the starboard side of the ship. From there it was easy to see that the Dawn Treader was being forced into a sharp turn. A continuous sharp turn, in fact.
But there did not seem to be a cause. "There's no whirlpool," commented Edmund, which was the one thing he could think of that would cause the ship to circle against its will. Tilted as the ship was, they could not see the water beneath her to look for answers there.
"We should try rowing it out," thought Caspian out loud, and Edmund and Lucy agreed. The older king shouted orders for the oars to be manned to try and pull them out of the circular course.
The men worked for hours, but the most the oars accomplished was to level the ship for a while. It was not worth wasting the energy or manpower, so Caspian ordered the oars raised. They were well and truly stuck.
By the time the oars failed, it was nearly night, and there was little they could do in the dark. Men took turns at the wheel, trying to keep the ship upright as best they could. Few slept that night, anxious as they were about the situation. After all, they only had so many supplies, and if they could not break free of this net that had them sailing in circles, they would slowly starve to death. Only Eustace did not seem to understand the severity of the situation as he continued to mutter complaints about getting dizzy from going about in circles.
Dawn found them in the same situation, fighting against this strange current in the ocean, as the blue star shone steadily in the distance, a clear marker to how fast they turned. Drinian had just turned over the wheel, his face clearly showing his exhaustion as he spoke with the kings and queen on deck. "We have to send divers in, your majesties," the captain said, nodding gratefully at Lucy when she handed him a flask of cold water. "We need to find out what's going on beneath us."
Caspian was not so sure. "I don't want to send our men into the water without knowing something about what they will meet. The danger…"
"…is no more than staying stuck here," interrupted Drinian, a bit crossly. "We can ask for volunteers."
"If you will pardon my interjection, perhaps I can suggest another solution."
The four turned and looked at Reepicheep who had joined them. "What do you propose?" asked Edmund.
The Mouse's eyes gleamed with adventure.
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"Are you sure about this, Reep?" asked Lucy as she finished knotting the rope around the Mouse's waist.
Reepicheep bowed. "I am without any doubt, my lady." He patted her hand. "I hardly even think I should need the rope; this will be no problem at all."
"Ready?" asked Edmund, who finished tying the other end of the rope to the rail, and held the rest coiled in his hands.
"Ready, your majesty," confirmed the Mouse, and he scampered over the port rail. Edmund carefully let the rope slacken with Reepicheep's movements as the Mouse carefully climbed down the side of the Dawn Treader. It was slow going, but soon Reepicheep reached near the water line. "Just a little more slack, if you please!" shouted the small knight, and Edmund let loose some more of the rope.
Lucy, Caspian, and some of the other sailors kept a close eye on the Mouse's movements. Even Eustace stood to the side, acting uninterested but still hovering slightly. Those at the rail watched as Reepicheep leaned closely to the water. He stuck a small paw into the sea, brushing the wood of the ship as he did so. For a moment there was nothing; but Reepicheep then let out a startled cry of pain. "Reepicheep!" shouted Lucy as she noticed a bit of red swirling in the water. The Mouse had no time to respond as the ship suddenly shifted and righted itself with a groan, before soon settling back into her circular course.
Edmund struggled to keep his footing, and the rope taut and high. As the ship settled, he started reeling in the Mouse, as the others watched anxiously – even Eustace, who crowded near the rail in order to see better. Soon Reepicheep neared the top and scrambled onto the deck, cradling his left front paw to his chest. Lucy was first to his side. "Where are you hurt?"
Reepicheep grimaced and let the queen take his injured paw. "It is bitten, I'm afraid; but the wound is not deep, and should heal well. No missing limbs this time," joked the Mouse, clearly remembering his lost tail and Aslan's miraculous gift.
As Lucy tended the injury, Caspian asked, "What's down there?"
"Fish," answered Reepicheep matter-of-factly.
"Fish?" questioned Edmund, looking askance at the blood coming through the bandage now going around the knight's paw.
"A large school of fish – of a kind I have never seen – has swarmed beneath the ship. They appear to be so numerous, and move in such a way as to create the current we are presently stuck on. Some have attached themselves to the hull of the ship; they don't appear to be damaging it, but I would not advise attempting to pry them off." Reepicheep indicated his hand as he said the last.
"That's preposterous," butted in Eustace, who had been lurking nearby. "What, do they think we're a great, big whale or something to eat?"
He said this in a scoffing tone, but Lucy pondered the idea further. "You may be right, Eustace," she said finally.
"I am? Well, of course I am. I…"
"How so, Lucy?" interrupted Edmund before Eustace could get started.
"Perhaps these fish swarm and overcome larger sea creatures like this – keeping them going in circle so they can't escape, and feeding off them as they go."
Reepicheep concurred. "That does seem like what they are trying to do: nibble bits and pieces off of their prey as it tries vainly to swim away. Only they are getting no sustenance from the Dawn Treader."
"The blood," said Caspian suddenly. "The ship moved when Reepicheep's blood dripped into the water.
Edmund understood what he was implying. "They feed on living creatures and would search out blood, like sharks. They were drawn to a few drops, but it was not enough to move them away from the ship."
Caspian nodded thankfully at Tavros, who was moving the onlookers away from the group. Lucy finished binding Reepicheep's paw, while Edmund leaned against the port rail, looking down at fish he could not see from this height. After a moment, Caspian spoke again, asking Reepicheep, "Is there any way we could catch these fish? Perhaps we could make nets?"
Reepicheep shook his head. "They are small, your majesty, too small for any of our nets to hold. To make nets such as we would need for so many fish would take days."
"I don't think we have days," concluded Lucy morosely, looking up to the quarterdeck where Rynelf struggled with the wheel. The ship creaked beneath them, not meant to be taking such sharp circles. "But what other options do we have?"
"Someone could lead them away." Caspian, Lucy, and Reepicheep looked at Edmund, who was still staring down at the water. "Take one of the smaller longboats, leave a trail of blood in the water, lead the creatures away from the ship."
It was a terrible idea, but unfortunately one that could actually work. Lucy did not like it. "They'll end up associating the longboat with food, they'll never leave it while it remains whole. Anyone in the boat could never return to the Dawn Treader, or they would risk bringing the fish back with him."
Edmund nodded, hands still gripping the rail. "Which is why that person would need to be someone non-essential to the journey."
Caspian instantly realized what he was implying and his eyes blazed. "No, absolutely not, Edmund."
The younger king looked up, his nonchalant smile clearly a mask. "You can't afford to lose your sailors, and I wasn't even an original part of the crew."
"Neither was I," snapped Lucy, her stomach turning at the thought of what Edmund was suggesting. Her words had no effect, however, since no one on the ship would ever purposefully let the young queen come to any harm.
Caspian stepped closer to Edmund, using his height to his advantage to look imposing. "You are not expendable."
Edmund growled and crossed his arm. "I'm not exactly jumping for joy about this, but there really isn't anyone else." He stopped Reepicheep before the knight could speak. "We don't know how much blood it would take, Reepicheep, and a human has more than a Mouse."
"We'll find another way," insisted Caspian.
Edmund turned to look back at the ocean, hoping to hide the trembling fear running through his entire body. Never before had he been so thankful that he was already naturally pale. "What other way?"
Any answer was interrupted by a disquieting yowl. Turning, they saw a distressed Cream pacing the starboard rail as some of the sailors were lowering one of the smaller longboats. Confused, they raced over to the commotion. "What is going on here?" demanded Caspian.
The sailors looked confused at their king's own apparent confusion. "Lowering the boat, your majesty."
"On whose orders?"
That confused the sailors even more. Tavros stepped up to Caspian to explain. "Your majesty, Pith requested to be lowered. We…assumed he was under your orders. He said there was a plan to free us." Pith would not have had to lie about being under orders; the crew trusted the devout man implicitly, and could not imagine him doing anything so bold without permission, so they had acceded to his request without question.
Caspian, Edmund, and Lucy leaned over the rail, where they saw Pith, alone in the small boat, better positioning the ropes that had stopped lowering him partway down the side of the ship. "Mister Pith," called out Caspian," what in the heavens are you doing?"
Pith looked up and smiled calmly at the king. "Your majesty, I am doing what needs to be done." Seeing that the kings and queen were still confused, he elaborated. "The contributions a man makes to the running of the ship has no place here; this task has always been meant for me."
Edmund drew in a breath as he realized that Pith had overheard his plan…and was taking it upon himself. However, before he could object, Reepicheep spoke, his voice tinged with sadness. "There is no coming back; do you understand this, my friend?"
Pith nodded, but there was no fear in his face. "I know, and it saddens me that we will not finish this journey together." There was a deeper meaning in his words, born from the hours the man and the Mouse had spent talking together of Aslan's Country. Pith smiled at Reepicheep. "Take care of Cream; she is smart for a mute cat, but will not understand this."
Reepicheep bowed in response, his whiskers twitching. Caspian's eyes, however, were hard. "Would you go against the will of your king?" he snapped at Pith.
The man was not moved. "I must obey Aslan above any earthly king, your majesty. Please, let me down." When Caspian seemed unmoved, Pith spoke again, his voice soft but audible. "Would you have another take my place? For this is surely the only way to save your people."
Edmund's instincts were warring within his chest. Part of him desired to step forward and claim this duty from Pith. Another part, a part he rather hated, was relieved and wanted to run away from it all. He took a step towards one of the ropes, a small step, and he did not know what part of him was forcing the movement.
But the motion seemed to snap Caspian out of his own dark thoughts. The older king straightened his back and nodded regally down at the man still standing calmly in the longboat. "May Aslan go with you, then, Sir Pith." For if anyone deserved the title, it was this man. Pith bowed and sat down in the boat as Caspian turned to the troubled sailors who still held the ropes. "Lower him," he ordered. Edmund opened his mouth – whether to protest the decision or not, he did not know – but Caspian had already turned to the crew which stood around, unsure of what was happening. "Ready the sails and oars! Once free, we must leave at full speed."
Caspian turned back to the rail as the longboat hit the water and Pith released the ropes. Kings and queen and knight stood gravely by and watched the brave man row from the ship, while Cream sat on the rail, mewing pitifully. At a far enough distance, they saw a glint of steel in the sun, and then the Dawn Treader lurched. Behind them, the sailors moved to their tasks, Drinian shouting orders, and soon the ship was gliding forwards, free of her circular prison. The sailors moved with fervor, determined not to let their crewmate's sacrifice be in vain. But the Narnian royals and Reepicheep held their vigil as the Dawn Treader quickly left behind the longboat, until it and the knight it held were only a black dot in the waves of the Eastern Ocean.
Once that happened, Edmund and the others dispersed, joining the crew in a still frenzied dash towards the path of the blue star. They went full sail and oar, fast as possible, for as long as possible. The work was quiet, few talking as the crew dealt with the emotions that came with being under threat of destruction, as well as the survivor's guilt of being saved by the sacrifice of another, a man well-liked by the crew and one of the main pillars of moral support on board ship.
By the time Captain Drinian deemed the ship out of danger from the deadly swarm of fish, the crew was exhausted. Even Eustace had been corralled into work by Reepicheep, being put in charge of making sure a moping Cream ate and drank. It was near nightfall when work truly slowed, enough that Edmund felt it was time to search out Caspian.
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He found the older king alone in the stern cabin, clothes rumpled and worn from work. Caspian was sitting at a small table, nursing a glass of port wine. Edmund slipped into the chair across the table and filled his own glass with the sweet liqueur. The two kings sat in silence for a long moment, before Edmund raised his glass. "To Sir Pith, follower of Aslan in all things." Caspian raised his own glass, but the movement and the drink after seemed more automatic than anything else. Edmund understood perfectly well; it was a hard thing to lose a man, worse to have ordered him to his certain death. Still, Edmund prodded Caspian with his words. "That was well done; knighting him, I mean."
"It was the least I could do," replied Caspian softly.
Edmund nodded and asked, "Was he at the Bight of Calormen with you?"
Caspian shook his head, still staring at the glass in his hands. "But he begged to join this journey for so long that I gave in. He said that Aslan willed it, and his devotion was so well-known by then…" By Caspian's tone, he clearly wished he had not been so persuaded.
Edmund frowned, trying to remember back to his last venture into Narnia. "He was one of Miraz's crossbowmen, wasn't he?"
Surprisingly, that brought a quirk of a smile to the edge of Caspian's mouth. "Yes, he was. I wondered if you remembered Pith from before." Honestly, Edmund was having a hard time doing so, despite the familiarity of the man. He knew of Pith's crossbow expertise after speaking with Drinian about the skills of those on board. Drinian had told him that Pith, while skilled in archery, had taken a vow of peace after meeting Aslan three years before. Edmund confusion must have shown, because Caspian actually let out a brusque laugh. "Remember, when we were preparing for my coronation? We were looking for the Beruna signet in the old manor house…"
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Flashback
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"What does it look like?" asked Caspian from halfway underneath a table which covered, and was covered by, piles of knickknacks and papers. The old study of the late Comde of Beruna was an absolute mess. He could see why Lady Mareteya had just shut up her husband's room, after his death, without entering.
"Like a signet ring," called Edmund from where he was – still – rummaging through the large wooden desk. Telmarines, apparently, used replica seals for their documentations, keeping their official ones squirreled away for special occasions. Unfortunately, Lady Mareteya now needed it to show her position at the coronation, and she only knew that it was kept somewhere in this office – her husband had never even let her see it, let alone tell her where it was.
A hard bump and a muttered swear word came from the built-in wardrobe where Peter had apparently hit his head on something or other. The High King's voice was muffled as he commented, "There are approximately four rings that I've found so far in here. Can you be more specific?"
Edmund, who was busy picking the lock on the third drawer, was kept from answering by the entrance of a nervous-looking Telmarine who was escorted by one of the Narnian guards. The Just King only glanced up for a moment, focused as he was on his work. "Yes?"
The Narnian, a faun, bowed. "Your majesty, this Telmarine wishes to speak with you."
Edmund waved a hand. "Thank you, you may go. And you…" he glanced up at the Telmarine in question.
"Pith, your majesty," the Telmarine answered, wringing his hands nervously.
"Pith, then, please sit down."
The startled man did as he was told, even if it must not have been comfortable sitting on the books which were piled on the chair. "Your majesty, I must give you my confession…" Edmund, still with one eyes and half his brain focused on the drawer lock, waved for him to continue. The man swallowed hard. "Your majesty, it was I who shot you during your duel with the General at Beaversdam." Hearing this, Caspian quickly removed himself from under the table, and Peter darted out of the closet. The former watched with wide eyes, the latter with a glare at the man who had confessed to shooting his brother.
Edmund just shrugged. "Ah. Well, don't worry about it, it's quite healed." A twist of his wrist and the lock clicked; Edmund resisted pumping his fist in victory, settling for a large grin. "Yes! Got it open!"
If he had looked at Pith instead of rummaging through the now-open drawer, he would have seen a very confused Telmarine. "Forgive me, your majesty…" he began, asking in his own way what the king meant by his response.
However, distracted as he was, and used to Narnian, not Telmarine, speech patterns despite the time spent with Caspian, Edmund assumed he was simply asking for forgiveness. "Aslan gives," he unintentionally interrupted in reply, using the common shortened version of the Narnian way of accepting an apology: 'As Aslan forgives me, I forgive you'. A glint of gold in the drawer caught Edmund's eyes and he pulled it out, holding it up in victory. "Found it!" Getting up from the desk, Edmund began walking towards the door. He patted the Telmarine's shoulder as he passed, not noticing the utter confusion on Pith's face, the surprise on Caspian's, and the resignation on Peter's. "No hard feelings. Now, please excuse us, we need to get this to Lady Mareteya." And with that, he left, Peter by his side. Caspian spared a moment to smile apologetically at Pith, who still sat stock still, before following his friends out of the study. He doubted the man would cause any trouble after that.
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End Flashback
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Edmund rubbed his chin thoughtfully as Caspian finished recounting the story. "Well, that does sound familiar. I remember thinking it was a bit odd that he sought me out to apologize, thought it showed his character."
Caspian humphed, his eyes still sad. "More than I think you know."
Edmund looked at him sharply. Then he sighed. "I missed some Telmarine idiosyncrasy, didn't I?" he asked forlornly. No matter his abilities and studies, some cultural customs always got past him.
Caspian took another drink of port before answering. "There was a law, born from a series of civil wars a few centuries ago. If a king was injured in battle, after conquering he had the right, if not the duty, to horribly execute the man responsible." He grimaced at the reminder of that law, one of the first he had overturned as king. "If the specific man couldn't be found, the entire conquered army was literally decimated – every tenth man killed."
"So he confessed in order to save his comrades," said Edmund as understanding dawned.
"Yes. I believe you completely confounded him by waving it away with easy forgiveness. It…inspired him to seek out why you would do such a thing."
"He sought out Aslan." It was an easy inference to make; Pith's well-known devotion to Aslan came from somewhere.
Caspian nodded, his eyes slightly out of focus as he took another drink of port. "Do you think Aslan truly willed him to…to do that?" he asked after a moment, referring to the man's calm sacrifice.
Edmund swished the dark liquid in his glass. "I think…I think He perhaps presented Pith with the choice. Just as we had the choice to let him go."
Caspian's glass came down hard on the table, startling Edmund who looked up from his own drink. The older king's eyes were hard. "I didn't have a choice. Not a good one, not one I can ever forgive myself for making."
Settling his glass carefully to the side, Edmund sat straighter. "It wasn't your choice alone. I could have…"
Knocking his chair backwards, Caspian exploded to his feet, and his voice came out with an angry hiss. "You could have? Oh yes, you could have objected. You could have ridden slipshod over my decision, my authority." His voice rose to a shout. "You already were! I knew it, knew you were going to walk right over me, followed your own idiotic will, and gone to your death if Pith hadn't stepped in." Edmund, shocked at the outburst, tried to get a word in, but Caspian did not give him a chance to speak. "That's why I let him! I knew, I knew if he didn't do it, you would have forced your way onto that boat without a by-your-leave, and so I let him go." Caspian's eyes were full of such anger and grief that Edmund winced. Still, the older king did not stop. "I sent a man to his death, Edmund," he said, his voice hard as he leaned against the table, glaring at the younger man. "And I didn't have a damned choice, because of you."
Edmund, who was already feeling guilt burning along with the port in the pit of his stomach, leapt to his feet at the blame Caspian was casting at him. "I was going to 'run slipshod' over your authority? Well, in case you didn't notice, I didn't. I let Pith go off without a word after you ordered it. So it's one of two things: Either I can overturn your decision and do whatever I want to, in which case I'm a coward for letting you send him off. Or I let your decisions stand once made, in which case I'm a weakling who let you send a man to die without arguing. You choose, but whichever it is, get me off that bloody pedestal you seem to have me on and deal with the choices you made instead of fobbing them off on me!"
The two kings glared at each other for a moment; then Caspian stormed away, striding out of the stern cabin with his back stiffened from anger. After he left, Edmund realized he was trembling. With shaking hands, he tossed back the last of his port, then walked out on the stern balcony. Leaning against the railing, Edmund stared out at the horizon, back west towards Narnia. Towards where they had left behind a brave man to his fate. "I'm sorry," he whispered to the wind.
But no absolution came.