Happy Friday, all! 5-review thing still in place.
Guest: Thank you for reading and reviewing! Enjoy your next installment :)
dogluver: I know, it really is a horrifying dream. Thanks for reading and reviewing!
narniagirlfan: It amazes me that they still make Turkish Delight. Such a strange concept, that something in a fiction story is actually real. Thank you for reading and reviewing!
pineapple101: Poor Peter, indeed. I don't know if I'll ever show him having that nightmare again, but it's safe to assume it's not a one-time dream. Thank you for reading and reviewing!
Disclaimer: I don't claim C.S. Lewis or Machiavelli. But I do claim Edmund. ^_^
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The Lion and the Fox
Chapter Ten: Fox's Descent
London, June 5th, 1940
"Since a prince must know how to make good use of the beast [in his own personality], he should choose then the fox and the lion [as his representations]; for the lion has no protection from traps, and the fox is defenseless against wolves. It is necessary, therefore, to be a fox in order to know the traps, and a lion to frighten the wolves. –Niccolo Machiavelli, The Prince chapter XVIII 'How a Prince Should Keep His Word'"
Warning: Graphic violence depicted. In fact, assume the rest of the story will have violence, especially as we enter the Narnia-verse. So, you have been warned.
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The days are warmer now, heavy and damp on the skin. The teachers at The Experiment House fling wide the windows of their classrooms hoping to entice a stray breeze into the dank recesses of the school, but today there is no wind. The sky is steadily darkening, turning an odd shade of yellow-gray. Reggie has equated it to how the breakfast eggs look under the cafeteria lights and Edmund has agreed. Privately, he thinks the sky is nearer to the color of someone's skin when they are ill.
Susan was very sick when he and Lucy were young (Lucy is still young but he has since grown up). They had looked in on her once when they thought Susan was sleeping. As they had stood together in the doorway, Lucy clutching Edmund's clammy hand, Susan had opened fever-bright eyes and seen them. She had tried to speak, cracked lips parting, sweat sliding into her limp hair, and Edmund had pulled Lucy away from the sickroom. Susan, watching them go, had turned an awful color, yellow with gray in her cheeks, and begun to cry short, hacking sobs. Almost immediately, Lucy bolted for her sister's bedside and Edmund was too occupied with holding her back to notice Mum appear. She had shooed them both downstairs, her face tight and angry, yelling at Peter for not noticing they had left his care. (In Peter's defense, Lucy and Edmund had waited for Peter to fall asleep over his third reading of The Coronation of King Arthur of Camelot.) Edmund's embarrassment at being caught by Mum lasted only until he was tucked into bed that night, listening to Lucy and Peter's deep, even breathing, when the memory of Susan's short gasps for breath and yellowed face caused him to bury his head under his pillow and yearn desperately for morning.
Anyway, the sky looks like that today, like sick Susan. Not remotely like the eggs served for breakfast.
Not that he's ever going to tell Reggie that. Reggie's word is law.
Edmund stares out of the window, tips his chair back on its legs, frowns. The clouds look as though you could run at them and bounce off—a solid mass. He brings his pencil up to his mouth, sucks the eraser.
"Eyes on your exam, Mr. Pevensie."
He starts, chair crashing to all four legs. Heads whip around to stare and he glares until they turn away. He removes the pencil briefly.
"Sorry, sir." His apology drips derision and the proctor knows it. They watch each other for a moment before the teacher looks away, checking the timepiece on his desk. Edmund smirks, stares out the window again. The sky is darker. Edmund pictures a crouching wolf cloaked in the clouds.
Something wet sticks to his neck and Edmund turns, frowning deeply. He forces a smile when he catches the eye of O'Toole, who is pleased by how accurate his spitball was. Reggie holds up the back of his exam paper, revealing one of the crudest drawings of female anatomy Edmund has ever seen. As Reggie drags his pencil across his throat, Edmund grins and turns back around.
Both boys long to be anywhere but here, in this final exam before school lets out. Tests at The Experiment House are usually simple affairs, but Someone Important has recently offered to make a Large Donation, should the school have sound proof of the success of its casual style of teaching. Thus: the hardest examinations Edmund has faced at The Experiment House, made much harder by the fact that he has barely studied. But, Edmund reasons, he has had other things to do and, quite frankly, couldn't bring himself to care.
Besides, O'Toole has informed him that his father has everything under control. Albert, Gunnar, and Bryan have to worry, but he and Reggie do not. Interesting, Edmund reflects, what money can do. "The universal language," O'Toole has joked, buying alliances and favors, glossing over problems like poor exam results by purchasing new cricket equipment.
Edmund had laughed, as O'Toole had expected, all the while wondering if Reggie's father's newly minted fortune could be appropriately disbursed to end the War.
Coming upon that thought again, Edmund shoves it quickly from his mind. Better not to think of Dad and the fighting. Not even Mr. O'Toole has that kind of money.
A flash outside the window, accompanied by a closer-than-anticipated rumble has the proctor scurrying to seal off the classroom against the impending storm. Edmund can hear the thunder of artillery; smell the sulfur of the battlefield that his father has described in his infrequent, heavily censored letters. His heart speeds up and he wonders if this this how Dad feels, so far away. Is he in France now? That's where he had mentioned he was headed. The exact location had been blacked out so that only the country remained.
At least, Edmund thought wryly, the Allies were attempting to make it remain.
A second, louder blast of sound. Edmund ducks instinctively, nearly slamming his head into his desk. Next to him, Gunnar snickers, silenced only when he feels Reggie's stare on his back. Edmund turns to look out of the window again, catches lightning slitting the sky. Rain begins to fall, droplets glowing in the unearthly light of the storm. The teacher reaches for the window by Edmund and tugs on the rusted handle. It begins to close reluctantly, squeaking. The students look up from their exams, their cascade of soft titters bouncing off the vaulted ceiling.
This does not mask the sound of a door swinging wide, hitting a wall. Edmund twists in his seat in time to see Professor Higgins bolt up the aisle and slam an armful of radio onto the front desk.
"Here now—!" The proctor begins angrily. The children around Edmund no longer bother to hide their laughter, Gunnar guffaws. Edmund stares at the radio, heart thudding. The proctor leaves off the window, storming up to Professor Higgins, but the Professor waves him off impatiently.
"Listen to this report, Bernie, just listen to this report!" The proctor grumbles but Higgins is already fiddling with the tuner. There is a crackle, and then a man's voice comes through clearly, exuberant.
"—Evacuation of Dunkirk a great success! Hundreds sent boats across the Channel to help out our boys before the Germans closed us off. A wonderful act of teamwork with French and English working together, and so few lives lost! Yes, these fine soldiers will live to fight another day.
"Of course, there were prisoners taken, and our thoughts and prayers at QXY-4 go out to those brave men now facing perhaps a harder battle than those looking down the barrel of the gun. There are a reported 30,000-40,000 French POW's, but the British number is far less. Not many names have come through yet, but we do have a few cases that we can read off. Apologies for the lack of information."
The room is silent now. No one laughs. Edmund clutches the sides of his desk so hard that his knuckles turn white. He listens, listens so intently that he forgets to breathe, forgets all but his pulse thrumming and his stomach rolling and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He shudders violently as rain spatters his exam.
The newscaster clears his throat.
"Brennan, Michael. Private. Missing, presumed captured.
"Gordon, John Jacob. Private. Confirmed captured.
"Hunnell, Samuel. Sergeant. Missing, presumed dead.
"McCoy, Robert. Private. Confirmed captured.
"Norton, Abraham. Private. Confirmed captured."
Silence from the radio. Edmund allows himself to breathe. The list of confirmed and missing is remarkably short. He's alright then. Nothing to worry about. Been evacuated.
"Sorry, dropped my second sheet. To continue the names…let's see here…ah! Orson, Joshua. Captain. Confirmed dead. Pevensie, Richard. Private. Missing, presumed captured. Stewart, Adam. Private. Missing..."
The announcer drones on as Edmund's desk topples over and the entire class whips around to stare at him once more. The next instant, Reggie is at his side, arm over his shoulders, steering him from the room. He tosses their exams on Albert's desk and murmurs something Edmund can't catch. Albert nods. He watches Edmund warily. They all do. O'Toole slams the door behind them.
Edmund shrugs Reggie's arm off and then stands motionless in the corridor. The newscaster's voice is still discernible through the door. He claps his hands over his ears and squeezes his eyes shut.
The world is wrong, utterly wrong, and he is helpless. He cannot do anything for his father. He cannot do anything for anyone and no one is helping him.
He wonders vaguely if Peter knows. If he heard the report on the radio. Maybe someone pulled him from class to whisper in his ear, maybe Mum burst in crying. Maybe Peter just knew. Some sort of Father-Firstborn Telepathy. Something. He wonders what Peter did once he knew. If he leapt up and ran for the train. Perhaps Peter is coming to tell him, to get him, to take him home.
The thought steadies him, and Edmund opens his eyes. Reggie waits, leaning against the wall opposite, arms crossed. He pushes off the wall and sidles over, standing in front of Edmund. His hand lands on Edmund's arm. Edmund tenses in his hold.
"Tough luck, eh, old chap?"
Edmund swings at him with wild, raging savagery. He hasn't felt like this since the encounter with Professor Fitzhugh. He wants to make someone hurt, someone cry, and if that happens to be Reggie O'Toole well that's just fine—
O'Toole hits him so hard that he isn't aware he's on the floor until Reggie's dragging him up by his collar, an enraged, animalistic snarl etched into his face. There's a cut across his cheek, and Edmund realizes dimly that he's made the boy bleed. It is, he thinks, probably not his most brilliant idea.
Reggie's fist connects with his jaw a second time and Edmund reels, held up by his attacker only. A third blow and he can feel blood gushing from his nose. O'Toole is making inarticulate noises as he winds up for a fourth punch, no longer recognizable as the ever-controlled Reginald O'Toole of Manchester, thank you very much. Edmund tries not to move, braces himself.
Abruptly, Reggie releases Edmund and he falls backward, choking on his blood. He rolls to his side, spitting scarlet. There is no sound in the corridor except for Edmund's labored breathing and O'Toole's whistling gasps as he struggles for control.
"You...you hit me again, Pevensie, and you'll wish I had killed you. You attack me...ever again, and I will burn you."
"Reggie, I—"
"I will burn the heart out of you."
Edmund's nose drips onto the wood boards. He does not attempt to speak again. After a moment, he stands, leaning against the wall, and starts towards the Headmaster's office. Reggie does not follow him. The bell rings for the end of exams and students flood the halls, cheering. They do not approach him.
Once there, he slumps into a battered chair and waits for Peter to come find him and take him home.
Hours later, the office is dark. The hallway is lit by a few low lamps. It is after curfew and no one is about. Edmund sits in the chair and waits.
Footsteps echo in the hall and he jumps up, staring at the figure approaching from the shadows. "Peter!"
O'Toole's purpled face is lit orange in the lamplight. Edmund staggers back, swallowing bile. Disappointment and fear make a foul combination on his tongue.
Reggie stops a few paces from him. Stares at him with a look mingling pity and scorn. "He didn't come then, that perfect brother of yours? The magnificent Peter Pevensie has abandoned his black sheep of a sibling?"
Edmund shakes his head, scrambling. "He's just late. The train was delayed."
Reggie nods. "Of course." He steps towards Edmund, who retreats again. He snorts. "Here." He holds out a greasy paper bag, and Edmund lunges for it.
The chips are soggy and cold and a bit burnt, but he doesn't care. He scarfs them down as though he hasn't eaten in days. Reggie watches in silence. When Edmund has at last licked his fingers clean, he looks up at the boy who has come for him, knocked sense into him, provided for him time and again.
When Reggie turns and begins walking towards the dormitories, Edmund follows, the paper bag abandoned on the chair.
They stop at their dormitory first. Reggie knocks twice, waits, knocks again. Almost immediately, the door opens. Albert, Gunnar, and Bryan shuffle out, followed by two others. Edmund frowns. "Who're they?" His voice ricochets in the hall and Gunnar shoots him a dirty glance. Edmund glares back. He has not cleaned his face since his fight, and the blood is tight on his chin. Gunnar looks away.
Reggie shrugs. "New recruits. Alright, Carter, Sorner?"
The pair nod. Carter speaks. "The Garrett twins want to know if they can come too, O'Toole."
"And Bannister!" Sorner adds.
Edmund scoffs, rolls his eyes at Reggie. "You picked people who can't keep their mouths shut, Reggie. Nice job."
The boys protest loudly, and O'Toole holds up a hand. Instant silence.
"No to the Garretts and Bannister…for now. And Carter, Sorner?" The boys snap to attention. "Keep your filthy mouths shut or I'll have them shut for you."
They avert their eyes, abashed, and Edmund snickers. He brushes past Albert and follows a step behind Reggie as he leads them down two more hallways, then stops. Bryan stares around suspiciously. "But these are…"
"The girls dorms? Astute observation."
Edmund whirls to face a girl who slides out of the doorway. She wraps her dressing gown tightly around her waist, accenting her curves. The boys all notice. Adela Pennyfather is an early bloomer. She smiles warmly at Reggie, winds her arm through his. "We didn't know to be dressed."
Reggie grins easily, slides fingers along her hip. "You look just fine."
Adela laughs throatily and gestures to the door. Edith Winterblott and Cholmondeley Major saunter out, similarly attired. Edith eyes Edmund up and down and the corner of her mouth twists. "Why's he bloody?"
Edmund stiffens. Reggie sighs. "Doesn't matter, Winterblott. Just fall in."
"Fall in! I like the sound of that!" Cholmondeley giggles and mimics Adela, wrapping herself neatly around Albert. "Did you know I'm a gymnast?" She asks idly, trailing her nails along his neck.
"Oh. Erm, no! No. I didn't." Albert tries in vain to keep his voice from cracking. Edmund stifles a laugh.
He jerks when he feels a damp cloth pressed against his face. "Shh," Edith breathes, "I'm making it better." He allows her to wipe off the blood, watches her toss the handkerchief back into her room before shutting the door. "Much better." She looks at him from beneath her lashes and Edmund suddenly feels very warm.
"I like your nightgown," he says stupidly, and Cholmondeley erupts into further giggles. Edith smiles as Edmund reddens.
"Shall we get on?" Reggie asks impatiently. The boys snap to attention, the girls look slowly around. The procession starts off down the hall, but soon stops again. After a look at O'Toole, Adela detaches herself from his arm and knocks on the door marked "Girls, Lower Form". It opens, and Adela leans forward to speak to someone inside. The door closes and she steps back. A minute later, the door opens again and a young girl is shoved into the hall. The door shuts quickly behind her as the girl stumbles into the lamplight, groggy with sleep.
Edmund frowns. She looks familiar, but he can't place her in that candy-striped nightdress. She is clutching a battered teddy bear as she looks around at them. When she sees him, her mouth opens in a small 'o'. He looks away before she can speak.
Reggie gestures. Carter and Sorner step forward, grab her arms. The girl squeaks as the teddy bear falls. The boys frog-march her down the hall, and the rest follow.
They pass unmolested through the front doors and out into the courtyard. Reggie takes the lead with Adela at his side, guiding the group off the path and further into the school gardens, overgrown and unmaintained. Edmund glances back at the building and catches a light on in the Headmaster's room. The curtains are parted slightly. He thinks he sees him watching, but then the cloth falls, the light goes out, and he cannot see anything anymore.
"Scared?" Edith murmurs, and Edmund laughs.
"You wish," he answers, acutely aware that with every step he takes away from The Experiment House, the stronger and more powerful he feels. He is unafraid, invincible tonight.
Reggie stops short and Edmund bumps into him. Another gesture and the girl is thrown to the ground. She whimpers, her pale face luminous in the moonglow. Albert strikes a match as they encircle her. Nobody speaks. The girl sniffles, starts to sob. Her toes curl into the grass.
The match burns out and in the sudden dark, the girl bolts towards Cholmondeley, who she seems to have picked as the weakest link. Cholmondeley casually sticks out her foot and the girl goes sprawling in the dirt. Gunnar and Bryan laugh, grab her, and throw her back into the circle. Albert strikes another match as they all step closer. Edmund's pulse is racing. He is grinning. He can't remember the last time he felt so alive.
The girl looks around at them all, mud browning her front. She fixates on Edmund, reaches towards him.
"Edmund Pevensie," she gasps and he goes still. "Please—!"
He cannot recall who she is amidst all the grime left from the rain and it angers him. He does not know why Peter hasn't come and it infuriates him. He does not know why Dad is not home safe and it enrages him.
He has hit her across the face before he quite realizes he's moved. The group cheers. He pants, sucks in air. The girl stirs feebly and he hits her again. She sobs, crawling away from him, hair matted with grass and dirt. Carter sticks out his foot and thrusts her back towards him. Edmund winds up again as she gapes at him in terror, and as his fist connects he recognizes her.
Jill.
Jill Something. He isn't clear on that bit, but he knows who she is. The Girl with the Gloves. She'd brought him to Peter, that freezing February day when he was coming down with pneumonia and just wanted to collapse.
He's never told his family how badly he'd been sick afterwards. They'll never know.
He's never told Peter how much seeing him meant.
And then Peter hadn't gotten him out of The Experiment House.
Peter hasn't written him. Neither has Susan or Lucy. Mum, barely.
And now Dad is gone and Peter. Hasn't. Saved. Him.
He hurts so much and there is nothing to be done.
The Gang, as they vote themselves later that night, yell and cat-call around him. He looks into Reggie's eyes, finds him remarkably calm. This, Edmund understands, is Reggie's gift to him. A way to stop the pain. As they gaze at each other, all else fades away. Edmund waits. Finally, Reggie nods.
Edmund hits Jill Something again.
The next day, the trip home from school is silent. Everyone is too wrapped up in their own fear and worry to speak to Edmund. Peter eyes his bruised face, his oozing knuckles, then turns away. Edmund feels a vicious sort of triumph. His own brother, too afraid to ask.
Closing his eyes, Edmund listens to Jill Something cry. He hits her again.
Leaning his head against the window, he smiles.
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And there is Edmund's break. Boy is screwed.
I don't believe this behavior is totally out of character for children 10 years old. I remember the mob-mentality and blatant sexuality of kids I knew in fifth grade. So, yes, this is extraordinarily vicious, but I do think it could happen.
As always, the Narnia Wiki for The Gang and its members.
en . Wikipedia wiki / Dunkirk _ evacuation for where Mr. Pevensie got captured.
Points to anyone who knows the source of Reggie's creepy quote about burning. It gave me chills when I heard it initially.
Review please!