Part III of "The New World," Being "A Brave New World"

~Edmund~

"The artist is best suited to deal with the false promises of revolutionaries, anarchists and builders of brave new worlds who share blind belief in a future opposed to all past ages."

Richard Demarco

Chapter 25- Justice Is Blind

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=A Year and a Day Later=

The storm clouds were gathering to the south and east, but at Cair Paravel it still felt like spring- spring with its exuberance and new life, when one could forget that there was such a thing as winter. The day was quiet, with most of the castle slumbering in the drowsiness of afternoon. But it was too good to last, Alicia thought as she strolled down to the grassy courtyard. Therefore, she was not entirely surprised when a door slammed and Edmund appeared, running for the stables.

"Where are you going?" Alicia called, passing a couple waking centaurs as she picked up her skirts and followed Edmund.

"Dock laborers are rioting in Glasswater," Edmund replied curtly. "It's hard to tell what's going on, but they went on strike yesterday. Lord Donnon doesn't want any help, of course, but one of my agents sent word that rioting has started as well."

"You aren't going to take any guards?"

Edmund paused. Clearly, the idea had never even crossed his mind. "I go to my people, not simply as a king, but as their king," he said finally. "The royal prestige is such that we have never been attacked by our own people."

"Well, then I'll go with you at least. We've talked far too little recently."

"I know," Edmund muttered as he helped Alicia mount her father's old Pomely. Ever since the conversation with Lucy, he had been trying to avoid Alicia. It had been easy enough when she was away caring for the Glozelle family estates through the harvest and the winter, but now that she was visiting Cair Paravel again it was harder and harder. At least she hadn't seemed to notice till then…

"Did you know that many of the dwarves have started wearing glasses as well?" Alicia went on as they rode at a fast trot for the city of Glasswater, ten miles to the south. Edmund's eyesight had been getting worse recently, so he had asked some of the Beaversdam dwarves to make eyeglasses for him. And to the dismay of Lord Trumpkin, many of the younger dwarves had liked and adopted the look. "I had no idea how much they looked up to you."

"Maybe the glasses will set their perspectives right," grumbled Edmund, still not looking at Alicia.

"It seems that it was your sight that needed help," teased the girl. Edmund actually smiled this time at having been outdueled. "You need to spend less time with your court cases and spreadsheets," she continued. "It's not healthy. I mean, we've barely talked this spring!"

"It's easier this way," Edmund mumbled. "I mean, of course I want to talk to you!" he exclaimed, catching himself. In his surprise he pulled back on the reins, causing his horse to stop suddenly. It took a moment to settle back in and adjust his glasses. "It's all the fault of you Telmarines, you know."

Alicia was still laughing at Edmund's discomfiture and how funny he looked, pushing his glasses back up his nose with one hand while trying to guide his horse around a bend in the road with the other. "How is that?" she asked between gasps.

"Oh, bother!" Edmund exclaimed. "Here we are, laughing while Glasswater riots. Let's go!"

Both galloping, they reached Glasswater within a few minutes. Under Lord Donnon's leadership, the city had grown immensely. Before, it had been a quiet town, occupied mainly by Donnon's retainers and by laborers who serviced the castle set above the city. There had only been a small dock for the few vessels that arrived from Galma and Calmoren. But now Glasswater was the third-largest city in Narnia, after Beaversdam and Cair Paravel, and much of the foreign trade passed through its ever-growing docks. Lord Donnon had certainly prospered, and so had the creatures and Telmarines who arrived to take advantage of the new jobs.

But discontent was beginning to arise. First it had been objections to the unfamiliarly long hours. Then it had been complaints about the monotony of the strange new labor, and now this. Dozens of workers had gathered in front of a platform in the town square, where Edmund and Alicia could see Donnon standing, flanked by a few guards. Whatever his faults, Donnon was no coward. But tact was not one of his virtues, and the crowd was clearly becoming more and more agitated as he spoke. An occasional tomato (for Narnians did not throw eggs) flew through the air.

Suddenly, some of the workers noticed the new arrivals and the word quickly spread. Alicia was certainly proud of the impression that Edmund made. Shouts passed through the crowd: "The Just! It's King Edmund! Bow, you fools!"

Edmund was not admired as a charismatic leader or a brave commander like Peter was. But the people loved his honesty and fairness, and how he sympathized with their needs and sufferings. What had been a mob on the verge of violence quickly settled down, and a bow rippled through the crowd.

"My people!" he cried, jumping onto the platform to stand beside Donnon. "What is the meaning of this? Why aren't you at your tasks?"

There was some whispering towards the front of the crowd, and then a stag stepped forward. "With respects, your majesty, we think the promotion system is unfair."

Edmund furrowed his eyebrows in surprise. Amidst all the complaints they had heard over the past five years, this was a first. "And why is that?"

"It's all fauns and humans being promoted!" exclaimed a bear, and a murmur of agreement and indignation passed through the crowd.

"It's not intentional," explained Donnon, "But that has been the case. The problem is that they're the only ones who can read and write! Bills of lading, receipts, the instruments of a modern economy…these require education!"

There was more grumbling and some boos from the crowd. Edmund was puzzled. A school had been opened in Glasswater two years before for the Talking Animals. Then inspiration struck him.

"Oscuns," he called to a faun whom he remembered from Aslan's How and who had been appointed headmaster at the school. "How many students are enrolled in the new school?"

"Thirty-seven," answered the faun proudly.

"And how many are fauns?"

Oscuns shifted nervously under the king's gaze. "Thirty-one," he stammered. But then he looked up. "Your majesty," he said, "it's impossible to accommodate everybody. For example, how is a horse supposed to grasp a pen?"

Edmund set his face. He could not show them that, as much as he hated it, the faun had a point. But hundreds of eyes were on him, expecting him to make an extraordinarily wise and just decision. He could almost feel a glint of laughter in Donnon's eyes at his discomfiture. And yet he was only a man, Aslan's appointed ruler to be sure, but still mortal.

"My people, did anybody force you to take these jobs?" Edmund finally said. Fantastic, he thought sarcastically, he was beginning to sound like Peter, with his speeches. "Do you have enough to eat and provide for your families, in far greater comfort than what you had in the forests?" There was a shaking of heads at the first question and nodding at the second. Edmund then turned to Oscuns. "Are you aware that we have been manufacturing attachments for one and two fingered animals, which they can use to hold a pen? I shall have a supply shipped to you, and I want the school expanded. No student is to be turned away because of his species; and with education, promotions will certainly follow. Let there be no more complaints, and let there be no reason for complaints."

A loud cheer came from the crowd, and even Donnon had to grudgingly clap. "A fine speech, your majesty," he said. "I am sure that there will be no more reason for you to go to the trouble of coming here."

"I hope and pray so, my lord," Edmund responded as he left the platform. "For all of our sakes."

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The seagull floated gracefully across the sky, a spot of white against the darkening heavens. Suddenly, with a mournful caw, it dove down after some unseen prey. It was quickly out of sight behind a cliff, its glimmer of brightness having been erased from the sky.

"Those birds never cease to fascinate me," remarked Edmund from his mount. The cliffs between Cair Paravel and Glasswater had a rugged beauty to them, still unspoiled by settlement or soot. "I used to come out here often, during our Golden Age, and just watch them for hours. I could think ever so clearly then, away from all the bustle of court. Things were very different…it can't be the same way for you, but I can feel the difference. It comes with living in two different ages of the world, I suppose."

"It must have been heavenly in your Golden Age, then," commented Alicia. "Almost too good to be true. I just live in this moment, and I think it's fantastic." She looked worriedly at Edmund. "Isn't it beautiful now, though? What is different?"

Edmund sighed. "I suppose I've lost a lot of innocence since then. You know the faun had a point, don't you? But I had to stand there like a politician and try to satisfy everybody." He laughed bitterly. "The people love and admire me? It makes me sick. Those attachments? They're ludicrous! Alicia, is what I'm doing really right for the people?"

"Of course! You saw how they reacted. You will always be the Just, Edmund, no matter what you think. "

"You're right about trying to be the Just. But who can say if what I think to be just is really so?"

"Frankly, I like you far more when you're free of this ridiculous self-loathing," grumbled Alicia. "You're worse than I ever was."

"I fear, my lady, that your problem has always been exactly the opposite," Edmund could not resist saying. "I seem to recall you loathing everybody besides yourself."

Alicia blushed at the memory. "Too true," she admitted. "I suppose it's good to be reminded of one's faults every now and then, and you're the only one who will do that for me. As long as it doesn't turn into that dratted self-hatred- ahem, Edmund."

Alicia stopped when she noticed Edmund was staring at the crashing waves with a far-away expression. "It's good to see you smile, but is something wrong with you?" she finally asked.

"Nothing, nothing at all," lied Edmund. "Just my duties."

"Your majesty is certainly aware I can see that you're lying," Alicia said, with banter in her tone but a deep worry within. She had no idea how much this hurt.

"Of course, my lady," Edmund said with a forced smile. Thank Aslan that Alicia was too blind to see what should have been obvious, he thought. She was intelligent, she was perceptive, but when it came to seeing that she was loved she was blinder than the proverbial Archen mole.

Alicia shook her head but played along. Once again, Edmund's meaning had eluded her. "Earlier, you said it was the fault of us Telmarines that you are always shut up like a beaver or…" Alicia remembered that beavers were quite dear to the Pevensies. "Or like a…like an Edmund. Just like you."

"It's your legal code," laughed Edmund, remembering his prepared excuse. "It puts Pulverulentus Siccus and his twelve volumes of grammar to shame. We're still finding laws one king or another would decide to put into effect on a whim, and they all have to be read and either repealed or put into a proper book before somebody takes advantage of them. So that's been my focus these past few months." A focus of his own making, Edmund did not add. He had no idea how important this would become in a matter of weeks.

"Who would want to dig through all those papers?" Alicia asked.

"There's an old story," reminisced Edmund, "of a student in one of our oldest English schools, Cambridge, who found an old, forgotten rule stating that students were entitled to a glass of sherry during examinations. He demanded it, law in hand, and got it. But who knows? Maybe someone will find something more serious and dangerous. It's part of my job to make sure that doesn't happen."

"What happened to the student?" asked Alicia.

"He was fined for not wearing a sword to the examination, which was another old rule," Edmund replied with a broad smile. "What's the matter?" he added, noticing Alicia leaning forwards to look around him.

"Isn't it court protocol for a king to wear a sword in public?" she asked. "Not that I care for said protocol, of course."

Edmund reached down to his side with a start. "Your dratted Telmarine protocol, which we've been forced to adopt," he shot back before bursting into a laugh. Aslan, it was too pleasant to be with Alicia…

"What is that?" asked Alicia suddenly. The sounds of a slight commotion in the town square floated in on a faint breeze.

"Sounds like the cavalry has arrived," scowled Edmund, putting a spur to his horse.

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Notice the connection between the conversation Edmund and Lucy had in Chapter 18, Edmund's eyeglasses, and the title of this chapter?

And a little preview from Chapter 36 (the last chapter of this section):

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"Your majesty!" Edmund heard shouted as he rode slowly back towards the castle. Turning, he saw a rather grubby little boy, looking up at him with an expression of awe.

"I've always wanted to see you," the little boy continued. "My mum says I should want to be like you when I grow up, the Just."

The king dismounted and cupped the boy's face in his hands. "My boy, you don't have to spend your whole life watching for somebody like me. Look around yourself for models, and you'll find them a-plenty. But tell your mum that when you grow up, you'll be a fine man."

Edmund remained crouched there in the street as the boy joyfully scampered off. The boy was innocent; it would be some years before he knew the truth. Even the crows- no, especially the crows- seemed to mock that title now. "The Just," Edmund whispered. "There's nothing left of him."

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