Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Wife?
Edmund gaped at the smugly smiling Calormene prince. His wife? Surely he had misheard. Surely this could not be happening again. Elain was Bran's wife. Or was she?
He glanced at Bran and saw the blade from the sheath on his forearm was now in his hand, and his face was hard and determined as he brandished it. Behind him, Elain still clung to her cat, but her eyes were fixed on Edmund, pleading, remorseful, terrified. What was this and exactly what was he supposed to do?
Aslan, he begged silently, but his prayer was cut short. Elain's expression grew as hard and determined as Bran's and, if possible, even angrier. She set the cat on the chair by the fire and then thrust Bran out of the way.
"I am not your wife," she spat at the Calormene, looking fiercely up into his face. "I made no pledge to you and I swear I will do away with myself before I ever make one."
Solak Tarkaan chuckled indulgently as he looked her up and down, and then he turned again to Bran. "As I said, I have come to claim my wife. I will take her with me now."
The crack of her palm across his face echoed in the small room, making the cat dive under the chair and all three men jump. The pale, eel-like little man who had come with Solak to the inn peered out, eyes bulging, from behind him, but dared not move for fear of the suddenly bristling Wolves. The Calormene grabbed Elain's wrist, making her cry out, and Bran lunged toward him, brandishing his blade. Edmund shoved them apart and pulled Elain from between them.
"Please, Lady, this is no way to sort out this tangle. Romulus, Remus, stand down."
The Wolves, still growling and wary, obeyed.
Elain shrank against Edmund, rubbing her reddened wrist, her eyes now full of tears. "Don't let him. Please. Edmund–"
"Wait," he said, his voice low. "Wait."
Solak and Bran stood glaring at each other, both of them panting and wary.
"Put it down," Edmund said.
Bran didn't move, didn't return his blade to its sheath, didn't take his eyes from the Tarkaan.
"Put it down," Edmund repeated, and Bran finally lowered it, but he did not put it away.
"You were ever the wise diplomat, King Edmund." Solak smoothed back his oiled black hair and, with a cool smile, made a courtly flourish with his long-fingered hands. "My father, the Tisroc (may he live forever), may have his differences with the court and the High King of Narnia, but you and I, Just King, we are as alike as brothers. Justice and honor are to us more precious than life."
Edmund couldn't suppress the tiniest of smirks. "That may be so, Solak Tarkaan, though we may differ on the meaning of those words."
"But the law, great King. The law. Surely it must be upheld."
Edmund narrowed his eyes, waiting for him to continue.
"The law be hanged and this jackanapes with him," Bran spat. "He'll not take her."
He brandished the blade again, but now it trembled in his hand and he was forced to support it with the other.
"Don't be a fool," Edmund hissed, knowing the man still wasn't fully recovered from his injuries in the shipwreck that had brought him to Narnia and to Elain. "Wait."
Solak gave Bran a look of disdainful pity. "The hothead does not trouble me, great King. I know I am in the right, and you will know it, too. I bring only peace and good will to Narnia and her people and come only in a lawful cause. You shall judge for yourself, and then there will be no more than for me to take what is mine and return to my palace in Tashbaan."
"He has the agreement." Gorby, the slimy little eel, peered out from behind the Calormene again, his reedy voice high and quavering. "I have seen it."
"It is all in order, by the laws of Calormen and Archenland." Solak presented an impressive looking document adorned at the bottom with many seals and signatures. "Witnessed by the Lord Mayor of the girl's own town and seven of its aldermen. It is quite legal and binding."
Edmund scanned over it. There, with a number of flourishes and Calormene embellishments, was signed Solak Tarkaan, of the Sons of the Tisroc (may he live forever) the Thirty-Seventh. Below that, and above the stately inscription Jeremiah Pennythwaite, Lord Mayor, and seven other Archenlandish names Edmund didn't recognize, was an unsteady scrawl. He had to squint to make it out. B. Teague, Apothecary. Elain's father, from what he understood.
He slapped the document onto the little round table next to the green chair. "I don't see the lady's signature here."
"You see her father's," Solak said. "There is nothing else required."
"You deceived him," Bran growled. "You waited until I was away and convinced him to make the bargain without her knowledge. All she knew was that you were to provide the money for The Arabella's venture. And when the ship returned with the goods she sought, you were to have your money again with advantage."
"And if she did not," Solak purred. "I was to be repaid another way."
"You deceived him," Bran repeated. "You made him think you were an honorable man and that Elain would be taken care of. You made him sign that abomination before I could return from Tashbaan and tell him what kind of man, what kind of filthy swine, you truly are."
Solak only chuckled at the insult. "And yet he did sign, did he not?"
"My father would never had signed that, not if he had been well enough to know what it really was."
His father? Elain's father? He was–
"You're her brother," Edmund said, glancing at Bran and then at Elain. "Not her husband."
Elain bit her lip, nodding, and her eyes were filled with apology and, somehow, a relieved hope. Her brother, not her husband. Not her husband.
"We thought it would be easier to get out of Archenland and to the safety of the Lone Islands if we went as husband and wife rather than brother and sister," Bran admitted. "If we were looked for, it would not be as a couple."
"I swore to him before we left Archenland that I would not tell anyone the truth of it," Elain added, "not until we were safe. I begged him to release me after he came to Cair Paravel, but he would not."
"I did not know you then, King Edmund," Bran said, looking more than a little regretful. "The tales we had heard of you from Tashbaan, I mean, I didn't know what to think or who to trust."
"It was foolish of you," Solak said, "but it is no matter. Come, Elain, it is time your little charade came to an end. My ship is waiting to take us to Tashbaan."
"I won't," Elain said, clinging to Edmund's arm. "I am not your wife."
"In all but name," he replied, glancing down at the hateful document on the table. "We will marry in the Temple of Tash before my father the Tisroc (may he live forever) and all the gods. If you like, we can be married at Anvard as well, in the court of King Lune, to satisfy the traditions of your people. And, if the Just King prefers, in order to show the good faith of Calormen to the Majesty of Narnia, we can stop at Cair Paravel and have a ceremony there as well. You see, my beloved, I am all amiability in seeing to the comfort of my lovely bride."
"This is not Calormen," Edmund said coldly. "Nor is it Archenland." He put one hand flat on the contract. "In Narnia, no one can be married against his will."
"But you mistake, Just King," Solak said smoothly. "If you read the agreement, you will see that marriage is not what Master Teague agreed to but only a bond of service. Such an agreement is legal in my kingdom and yours. If I have honored the lady by elevating her from servant to wife, how can she or anyone object?"
"When I was in Tashbaan, I heard how you treat your women," Bran snarled. "Buying and selling them like beasts and using them no better." He spat at the Tarkaan's feet. "Before Narnia's Lion and any Calormen gods you care to name, I swear you will not take my sister."
Solak merely smirked and turned to Elain. "Come, wife."
With an oath, Bran snatched up the document, wadded it in both hands, and hurled it into the fire. Squealing as if he had been stuck, Gorby lunged for the paper. The Wolves lunged at Gorby. Solak lunged for Bran and hurled him against the parlor wall before Edmund could get between them. Bran took the impact directly on his injured shoulder and slid into an insensible heap on the floor.
"Bran!" Elain cried, but Solak seized her arm in an unyielding grip.
"Now, wife, it is time."
Author's Note: And now, at last, you know what's been going on. But what now?