Chapter Twenty: Dreams of Spring
It was almost two hours past noon when our business was complete and we stepped out of the Lithin School to return to the smithy. The rain had not abated, though for the moment the wind had died down, making it feel warmer than when we arrived. Brickit had kindly refused the offer to stay until morn, not wanting to overtax their resources, and he and Belana had a brief exchange about the best route home. The river road was easier but dangerous now since the river was so swollen and areas were probably flooded. Despite my desire for an easier path than over hill and dale, my mind was firmly fixed on Peter's description of a flash flood in the Western Wild. The memory still gave him nightmares, and to this day he hated the stench of foul mud. While I loved, admired, and emulated my brother, I had no wish to share in that particular adventure and so I headed for the mountain path without complaint.
Brickit was highly satisfied as he lead our little party. For him, having members of his clan learning anything beyond immediate, material use to the smithy was the pinnacle of luxury. The prospect of history and maths and geography being bandied about the longhouse as a matter of course sent him into ecstasies. It was frankly enjoyable to listen to Brickit wax poetic about the future he foresaw not just for the present generation of children, but for the Blue River Smithy. In his mind's eye he could envision the scholars and artisans that would be produced, the grand works of craftsmanship and poetry and song. Were his imaginings to be realized, the smithy would be transformed into a center of learning and culture. His enthusiasm made the rough going easy since he provided a distraction from the weather. The hills immediately to the east of Lithin were steep, with thin, young woods and many exposed rocks and roots. The wet leaves underfoot made for difficult footing, but the sparse trees and undergrowth allowed for good light, which was a fair tradeoff when the going was increasingly treacherous.
I smiled as I followed behind Brickit up a rocky slope, egging him on by saying, "You'll need a library, surely, and teachers learned in other disciplines such as diplomacy and rhetoric and medicine. Mathematics, astrology, navigation – there are as many things to know as there are grains of sand on the beach."
"Poetry, too," he agreed, pausing in his climb.
I reached back to help Belana up the steep and slippery path. Crowded close together on a narrow landing formed by years of erosion, we took a moment to catch our breath.
"La," I agreed. "Poetry, too, and music and storytelling."
"Weaving and tapestries and glass making," added Belana. "Arts and geography and . . . poetry," she finished in dreamy tones.
"We could have another Blaytom in our midst," Brickit said, referring to the famous Black Dwarf warrior poet.
"Indeed. Several Blaytoms in fact, and a whole host of other masters yet undiscovered. You and the Nymphs of Lithin are thinking of nothing less than a university, Brickit."
"Not so!" he exclaimed too quickly for truth, his eyes wide. That I had a single word for his plans astounded him.
"So," I argued. "And why not? Don't you think those ladies have had the same ideas and hopes for their own children? Doesn't every generation wish more prosperity for the next?"
"Yes, but -"
Every inch the king this moment, I waved off his protests, dismissing them all as I, too, ran with the notion. "There is great knowledge and skill in Narnia, and the only true centers for Narnians to pass on those skills is right where they are at the moment or at Cair Paravel. We need more places where people can go to ask questions and get answers and see that there's far more to the world than the confines of their homes. Archenland and Calormen have universities, and it's high time Narnia did as well."
"I've a smithy to run!"
"And I run a country!" I countered. "It's just a question of scale, sir."
Brickit was lost for a long moment, his expression distant as he considered the possibilities. That he did not reject the whole notion out of hand was very heartening, and I cast a happy glance at Belana. Finally, he blinked, coming back to himself and casting me a smile. "Well, 'tis a fine, far-flung dream, lad."
I leaned in close and whispered, "So was spring," before pressing on ahead and up the hill, leaving them to catch up.
The weather grew progressively worse and the sky darkened until the late afternoon light resembled night more than day. Strong winds blew hard against us, striking from seemingly every direction and making the going even more difficult. Slick leaves and muddy ground underfoot increased the danger, and we all fell at some point or other when footing gave way under all the rain. I saw Belana looking up nervously as thunder rumbled. This was not a good area to be caught outside in a storm, let alone a lightning storm. I had noticed a marked difference in the storms here versus the ones back in England. Like Narnia, the storms were wild and savage and spectacular, and rather than a few minutes of thunder and a few flashes of lightning, they could go on raging forcefully for hours. Often they were highly destructive, and with the ground so saturated after weeks of spring rains, the going was dangerous indeed.
"Brickit!" called Belana when we reached the crest of the next hill and a fresh blast of pelting rain greeted us.
He looked back, reading the anxiety on her face, and he nodded in understanding. We needed to find shelter to ride out the storm. Together they gauged the area, seeing how far we had come and how far we yet had to go. Less familiar with the path and knowing we had been greatly slowed, I waited for them to come to a decision.
"At this speed we've a good four hours to go yet," he announced, shouting to be heard over the wind.
I had to steel my expression. We wouldn't make it back to the smithy tonight. Much as I would have liked sleeping in my so-called bed, I thought of Peter and his quest into the Western Wild when for months on end he had slept out in all weather. I resolved I would abide by their decision.
Belana struggled, bit her lip, and finally said, "'Tis less than an hour to Moonspring. We can shelter there and return to the smithy in the morn."
Brickit's expression mirrored mine as he braced himself. He hesitated.
"Brickit, we have a child with us," she reminded him sternly. "And not just a child, but a king."
Drawing a deep breath, he finally nodded, submitting to her will and good sense. "Very well. Moonspring it is."
"I'll lead. I know the way well, even without a path," she said, and by her tone I knew she was no happier than Brickit about this plan. With a final, apologetic look at the Chief Smith, she turned and lead the way downhill. It was harder going down than up, and more than once I slipped or sank into the mud, but Belana picked our course with care. Daylight was gone by the time we stumbled through thick undergrowth and close-growing pines, and we were fortunate Belana knew this place so well or Brickit and I never would have found it. I was quite spent, Shafelm III an awkward, heavy weight against my side, and it was with great relief I saw a few squares of dim light ahead, shining through the windows of the miners' homes.
"We'll stay in my family's house," decided Belana. "We may have to make do with the floor, but there are blankets aplenty."
"Lead on, lady," I said, not about to complain. So long as it was dry, any patch of floor, hard or soft, would suit me right now. There was stone instead of earth beneath our feet now and I knew we were at the base of Moon Mountain.
We followed Belana past several stone houses to a thatch-roofed structure that looked as worn and weary as I felt. In the dim light I could see the outline of a house with a roof sharply peaked to shed snow. It seemed to grow out of the mountain. Belana tried the latch, then knocked on the door when she found it locked.
At first there was no response, and in the few seconds that followed, a fire kindled itself in our guide and she slapped the door hard with her open hand.
"Brother, open this door right now or by Aslan, you will lose this roof over your head!"