A Dwarfish story-teller at court tells the tale of Prince Frank, the monster Rawhead & Bloody Bones and the Guardians. Contains some violence (not graphic) and so may not be suitable for young children.
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THE GUARDIANS
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From "On faith" by Silenus (c.750)
"Man wanes because man lacks faith in Aslan. It is impossible for him to build Aslan's kingdom here under the sun. Man cannot sustain faith. There might be revivals, there may always be a remnant, but such a kingdom cannot endure under the sun, year in and year out".
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Introduction (1886)
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Princess Alfreda lowered her book. "You're wearing that for the feast then?"
Her half-brother, Lord Robin, was busy studying himself in the looking glass. "It makes me look very…gallant," he said, admiring the swirl of his cape as he turned.
"Who is the unfortunate female that you're trying to impress? I hope she's colour-blind."
"Never you mind, miss." Satisfied, he moved away from the mirror. "You're the cleverest and marginally the more beautiful, but I'm definitely the better dressed."
"So you think," she retorted.
"I know so." He dropped a kiss on top of her golden curls. "I didn't like that manteau (1)of yours above half, this morning, but I was too polite to mention it."
"What you know, you'll soon forget. Stop fiddling with that candle-holder," Alfreda said tartly.
"What're you reading, Freddy?"
"It's called a book; you should try one. They're very informative".
"I'd have no time for horses and dice though," Robin retorted. "So, what're you reading?"
"Silenus 'on faith'," she told him. Now, Silenus was an ancient philosopher who had long since passed into Aslan's own country. He had lived many centuries ago; even before the time of the White Witch. His epistles and his Academy were famed. He was not that friend of Bacchus with whom some confused him. Many lesser writers had used his name, over the centuries, to give their inferior works some credibility.
"Oh, that dry old stick!" Robin put on a solemn voice. "How can I know I exist? I doubt that I exist. What does not exist, cannot doubt; therefore I exist".
His sibling looked at him in surprise, "That's very good. Surely you've not been reading books? Why, I hardly know you!"
"Don't be pert, Freddy. When you're Queen you'll have to be far more dignified. Anyway, put the confounded book away. The old boy is a stickler for punctuality. He's worse when his gout is playing up."
"I'm ready," she explained.
"Aren't you going to change?"
Alfreda stuck out her tongue at her younger brother. "If and when I'm Queen, I'll have you thrown into the ditch for remarks like that. What's the entertainment tonight?"
Robin pulled a face, "some Dwarfish story-teller."
"By Peregrine's precious pig*," the princess exclaimed, "I hope not! Do you remember the last one? Two hours of miners battling mine-wyrms (2). Even Grandfather was nodding off by the end".
"I can't think where you pick up these vulgar expressions," Robin said primly. "Anyway, this Dwarf is from the west country not the northern wastes. He might be better."
"He may be worse!"
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At the feast
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The great hall of Cair Paravel was rather less than half full. Of course, it wasn't one of the great feasts but, nevertheless, attendance was sparse. The sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve were fewer in number of late, all across Narnia. Nobody could say exactly why, but it was certainly a fact.
Old King Robert entered the hall last, as protocol dictated. He was attended by Lord Bellman – a handsome, middle-aged man with a poor grip on money. Bellman was the latest scion of an ancient family (one of those that claimed to have been exiles during the reign of Jadis, the White Queen). The King kept his hands on Bellman's shoulder as he limped to the dais. "Alright, sit down, sit down," he said irascibly having settled into his seat. Everyone else at board did likewise. "So, sir, you attend your Grandfather's court dressed like a popinjay (3)?" He looked at Robin's cape with disfavour.
"Not to your taste, Grandpapa?"
"Less of the Grandpapa; jackanapes (4)," the King scowled.
"Sorry, your Majesty," said Robin, apparently contrite.
"You're a cheeky young cockscomb (5). I suppose that thing is all the fashion is it?"
"It will be, now I've been seen in it," said the young lord, complacently.
"Faugh! In my day, noblemen looked like men."
"Was that before the Great Freeze (6), Majesty?" Robin tried to look innocent.
King Robert gave the stifled bark that served him for a laugh. "I give up! You, miss, are very quiet," he said accusingly to Alfreda.
"I'm keeping rein of my excitement, anticipating the story-teller," she explained drily.
The King gave another short bark. "Waldred's beard! * D' ye remember that last Dwarfish bard? He ruined a perfectly good sleep with some interminable song about mine-wyrms."
"I'll pinch you Freddy, if you 'nod off'," Robin offered.
"Where do you get such abominable expressions?" moaned King Robert. "Nod off! And if you try pinching me, sir, I'll have you whipped all the way to Archenland".
Helmbert was a Dwarf from the western border of Narnia, although he spent much of his time travelling. He'd lived a long time and had seen the land decline even during his lifetime. He was one of the few Narnians who'd had some contact with other men. Far beyond the western boundary, past the wilds, lay the trading station of 'Midway'. It was a thriving place of men, of a race known - only to some few Narnians - as 'the Sea-People'. They called themselves 'Telmarines' and were from the land of Telmar. Helmbert saw confidence, robustness, a spirit of adventure, in those Sons of Adam that was lacking in Narnia.
The Dwarfs of northern Narnia still acknowledged the 'over-lordship' of Cair Paravel yet they'd been semi-autonomous for some years. The Dwarf clans of the northern wastes, beyond the border, had no such allegiance. They busied themselves in their mines, forges and workshops and were little troubled by men. Helmbert, being from the west, considered himself a true Narnian like many of his fellows. He had a love of tales of all kinds, especially those concerning the history of the land. After the feasting came the entertainment and he was second on the bill, after the jugglers.
"Your Majesty, Highness, noble ladies and gentlemen, true Narnians all," Helmbert began. "Hear now the tale of Prince Frank and the Guardians…"
Alfreda roused herself to listen with a little more interest. Her brother leaned behind to whisper, "I'll lay four Trees (7) to your one that there'll be a miner involved in it somewhere…"
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THE TALE
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"Rawhead & Bloody Bones,
Pick him up and 'tek' him home,
Rawhead & Bloody Bones,
Leave us 'ere, left alone"
"So sang the children of the western parts, that golden summer. Tommy Rawhead was a bogeyman to keep infants awake at nights. Mothers kept daughters tied to their apron-strings. Fathers made sons stay by the hearth. Nursemaids anxiously counted heads and scolded truants."
"Good King Frank ruled Narnia as wisely - and as well - as Good King Robert. ["Creeper," whispered Prince Robin]. The land was at mostly peace and yet the west folk were troubled. Something evil dwelt just beyond the border. It ate chickens, savaged goats and scared cattle. A foul thing was abroad – they could almost smell it on the air. Travellers were attacked; pedlars disappeared never to be seen again. Something must be done. "Oh Great King, protect us, thy servants," begged the petitioners. Cair Paravel was fresh and magnificent, its court full of lusty men, strong of arm and brave of heart. What a sight to behold her banners, that shining beacon upon a hill, that told of the glory of Narnia. Every warrior begged to have his mettle tested against the monstrous Rawhead & Bloody Bones."
"A mock tourney was held, right here in the great hall, and the knights did battle with wooden swords to prove their worth. All but one was tripped and fell, to find a wooden point at his throat. Prince Frank, the King's eldest son won the field." ["You'd fall over your pointy slippers" Princess Alfreda teased her brother].
"I, your Prince, offer the good folk of the west my sword. I will vanquish this fell creature or you will bury me under 'Hobb's Tree' in the Lantern Woods." So saying, Prince Frank chose six companions to join him and they set off for the west".
At this point, as your narrator, I feel inclined to offer an apology for the rather florid tone of the tale thus far. This is, however, the style employed by this Dwarfish weaver of stories and I must be faithful to his memory. Verbal pomposity is a harmless vice indulged in by the writers of such epics as the 'Aeneid' and the 'ProseLancelot'. If we can forgive them then, pray, pardon Helmbert too. We will however dispense with the ill-mannered interjections of the Royal siblings, from this point on.
"A strange folk dwelt in the western wastes in those days. They were tall and well-knit; their hair was yellow like ripened corn. Their eyes were blue like the waters of Par-Lobel*. How strange their tongue was! An uncouth, guttural language, littered with Narnian words but full of still more alien ones. Some claimed that their grandfathers had come from 'another place (8)' (and we all know what that meant). Although strong and brave, they were wary of strangers and kept to themselves. Narnians said that they had their own magic and could turn into mist when in their own woods."
"There is a strange tale, once beloved of those that take the gulls' way and those that make their living by the shore. The famous Captain Aethelwold – he who escaped the pirate Conrad and circled the world-disc – was of that rustic folk. Aethelwold the mariner was espied from afar by the star Aster. She danced in the cold heavens and knew loneliness out there in the void. She wept for want of a dancing partner. She kept watch over the man even from that great height and she came to love him. When he needed her, she was always there to guide him to safety. Finally, she descended to him and he ascended with her into the great ocean of the sky, and they now sail there together, Aster and her love, Agapios. (9)"
"In those days when Prince Frank rode out into the west, Agapios was newly appeared in the firmament and was the cause of much wonder. Simples gaped and wondered what it meant. Centaurs nodded gravely and plotted it on their charts. Frank took it as a sign that his expedition would prosper".
"Summer was upon Narnia but nowhere more so than in the western wilds. The sky lacked that courteous provision of cotton wool that can protect folk from an overly generous sun. It beamed over all in a benevolent, avuncular but careless manner."
"The river sulked; a blanket of green algae made it sluggish, unwilling to move. The verdant carpet caused it to smell like rotten eggs and too ripe fruit."
"Light breezes complained to each other, teasing the trees and ruffling the vegetation. The trees talked together in their creaking language, sharing memories of winter storms, peeling bark and the swelling of fruit. The plants whispered on the breeze and their chatter was of survival, growth and fecundity."
"The birds sounded warnings that were not understood, "Do not linger in the summer country." For the birds knew something was wrong and longed for the great migrations of autumn. "Do not tarry," they sang."
"Into this rode Prince Frank and his gentle knights. Occasionally they caught sight of woodsmen who melted away like snow in the scorching sun. They followed the river by instinct and – in truth - for want of a better plan. Eventually they drew close to a seemingly unremarkable hill. Many generations later a tower would be built there: the ruins of which can still be seen. It is grassed over now and but a memory; known only to travelling folk such as I. In the crude tongue of those western folk it would be known as 'Torr Mona (10)', or Tower of the Moon. Jadis, the White Witch, (cursed be her name) caused it to be built. She had ambitions to extend her realm that were happily never fulfilled. Why did she choose that particular spot? It appears to have been a place of dark magic. The monster, Rawhead, was found there but a later, curious story is told of it too."
"Under an enchantment, a serpent was forced to lay its eggs on Mona hill (11). From that brood came a witch who terrorised those parts in the form of a great wyrm until a cunning sprite, named Hob O' The Greenwood (12), trapped her in a bottle. Whatever the truth of the matter, the hill was (and is) a cursed place where I would not care to bed down for the night."
"Prince Frank's company found three mutilated bodies strewn along the riverbank as they approached the hill. They were men and women of yellow hair and of fair complexion; shockingly despoiled. A horrid host of black flies waxed fat on the dead. "This was sheer butchery and sport!" raged the Prince. The flower of Narnian chivalry charged up the hill where lay old Bloody Bones, sated. His eyes were closed and he snored softly, enjoying the warmth of the sun and a full belly. His ears twitched at the sound of horses and he sprang up."
"The creature had a xylophone ribcage of the sort normally only seen in Butchers' shops. It bulged obscenely after his meal. His scarlet flesh was rubbery and mottled, punctuated here and there with clumps of stiff pig-like bristles. Claws extended from his fingers and toes; yellow as lichen. Old Rawhead had watery eyes that wept constantly yet not for his victims. A snout waffled in the air, scenting the warm life-blood coming towards him. Perhaps most remarkably he had four rows of teeth: two to pinch (each as sharp as a scalpel) and two to grind. Ironic nature had given him the most lustrous head of glossy, black curls that poured down, untamed, about his back. There was no need to ask questions of him: the remains of a feast lay about Old Bloody Bones. "For Aslan and Narnia," Prince Frank cried as they swept up the hillside. The fight was short but fierce. The creature preferred to fight one-to-one and preferably with the unwary. Armed and mounted men were a new and unpleasant experience for him. He took a terrific bite of Sir Lemuel's knee, who screamed in agony, and it ran red. He almost managed to drag himself onto a horse behind Simon Lackland but was thrown by the terrified animal."
I will now paraphrase the next part of the story. I see no need to dwell on scenes of combat; this is not 'The Iliad' and they can be gratuitous. Suffice it to say that it was Prince Frank himself who delivered the killing blow, parting head from neck. Every man had sustained bites and been clawed where they lacked armour. Lacking the medical care that many of us take for granted, all they could do was wash their wounds in the slumbering river. Perhaps they were blessed as none caught an infection.
"The knights tended their hurts in the water and laid on the riverbank, to dry. They were divested of armour and their horses were tethered at the foot of the hill. They kept just their swords and shields to hand. They had intended to cover the dead woodsmen as best they could (lacking shovels). It was then that they came under attack; a hail of stones flew from across the water. They put up shields to protect themselves as angry men appeared on the opposite bank. A light spear was thrown and the Narnians had to back away. "To horse, let us leave these angry churls to bury their own dead," cried Sir Lemuel. The prince was in two minds but there seemed no prospect of parley with the rough woodsmen. "To horse," he agreed, but they were to be disappointed. For, on reaching the hill, they found their steeds gone, led away. They were dismayed; to track the thieves but risk ambush was the quandary. Even their armour was taken. It was then that the horns began to wind".
"Like Hymenius* pursued by the wolf Hyngrid and the Uffanglas (13), only one outcome seemed possible. Had the Narnians been horsed and in full armour, they'd have had more of a chance. On foot, lightly armed and against skilled woodmen, they would surely be taken or killed. It was Simon Lackland that saw the shallow cave, little more than a delve in the side of a hill. "There we make our last stand my friends," Prince Frank declared. "We will leave this world of shadows and wake in Aslan's country. Let us be glad of it."
"They pulled a few loose branches to form a barricade in front of them. It was poor enough but better than nothing at all. Drawing their swords, they waited. They did not have long to fret, for a figure burst through the trees no more than thirty yards away. This rustic champion had a quiver of light javelins at his back and one ready in his hand. He started to take aim but became distracted, his arm wavered, his head jerked in surprise, and the spear flew harmlessly wide of its mark. "I'll not mock our attackers," said the Prince, "but that was a damnable shot!" The champion fidgeted with another dart but changed his mind and withdrew. "What ails the fellow?" they wondered."
"Horns were now sounded from all directions; clearly the whole district was being raised. Although they saw nobody further, there was a lot of noise in the trees and undergrowth. "Let us parley," called the Prince. "Send somebody to speak to us". Reply came there none. From fields and orchards they came, summoned by the horns. Huntsmen left deer un-stalked and wild boar unstuck to join their kinsmen. Women abandoned their hearths and stoves to be with the men. They armed themselves with knives that usually jointed meat, and were willing to fight if called upon. The monster, Rawhead, had gone too far, abducting and killing in broad daylight. Their blood was up and they cared naught for monsters or Narnians. This was their territory and they'd been shamed for their fear of the beast. Bloodybones was dead and all the intruders would die too."
"Parley with us; talk to us. Tell us what you want! We slew the beast for you," shouted Frank but to no avail. The rustling continued and the horns kept blowing. The Narnians sang the battle song of 'Kings Take' (14) to raise their spirits though their time under the sun was surely almost over. Hour after hour went by and eventually it was dusk. The horns had long since stopped blowing but then the drumming began. First there were just three or four, but soon there were a score or more drummers. It was incessant and rang louder in the darkness than the Narnians' own racing hearts. When Lackland felt he could take no more he strode to the cave entrance and opened his arms. "Attack, damn you, come on!"
"Peace, my friend. They will come soon enough. Let us meet our end with dignity," the Prince pacified him. "Let us sing our challenge," and so they sang the song of 'Kings Take' once more. It is the one that begins:
"Our hope is in Aslan,
In Him we trust,
Dark are our days,
But glorious is his light,"
"Yet still the drumming went on. The endless, interminable, continual, repetitive rhythm resounded in their ears. BOOM-BA-BA-BOOM-BOOM – BOOM – BA – BA –BOOM – BOOM. It was impossible to estimate the strength of their enemy. There were probably scores but it sounded like hundreds. BOOM-BA-BA-BOOM-BOOM – BOOM – BA – BA –BOOM – BOOM."
"Just attack; fight, how many more do you need?" wondered the knights in the shallow cave. It grew very dark with just the watery glow of the moon to see by. They could make out flashes of light here and there in the bush; the woodsmen had lit torches. BOOM-BA-BA-BOOM-BOOM – BOOM – BA – BA –BOOM – BOOM went the drums. There was no prospect of sleep for danger and the beat had not only murdered sleep but hung, drawn and quartered it. "Fight, you cowards," yelled Sir Lemuel, trying to taunt them into combat."
"It was hard to estimate when the drumming finished; it seemed to have gone on for hours beyond counting. It was certainly long after midnight. "What's happening?" wondered the knights. Surely this was the moment of the attack. They kept hearing rustling noises and they stood ready to use their swords, but nobody came. One by one the lights that twinkled through the branches disappeared. Eventually, there had been no noise of any sort for some minutes. "Surely, they've not gone?" Why, indeed, would they leave? There was no need to fool the Narnians and draw them out. They had the knights at a huge disadvantage and a hail of darts or arrows would surely have done for them. There was no great risk to the woodsmen. It was a peculiar mystery. The woods seemed as empty as the plates at the feast of the dupes*."
"The knights managed to snatch a couple of hours sleep and then, in the grey light that precedes dawn, they ventured out of the cave. They looked about and there, on the path, was a covered basket. Inside was bread and fruit. Whether it was trick or no, they cared little, but ate greedily. The sticky juices still ran down their morning chins when they heard men approaching. Two stout yeomen led their horses, tethered together. The men carried large leaves which they waved in a peaceable gesture. "I will try and speak with them," Prince Frank said and, laying down his sword, advanced towards them. When he returned (the horses being secured) he seemed amazed."
"What troubles you, sire?" his companions asked.
"Tis the tale the woodsmen told," the Prince replied.
"They spoke our tongue indeed?"
"One man was fluent; the others had but little". Prince Frank still marvelled at what he had heard.
"Why did they spare us, Highness?"
"It wasn't mercy - it wasn't cowardice – nor was it respect for our swordsmanship." Prince Frank explained.
"What was it then?" they pressed.
"It was our guardians," the Prince told them. "Praise be to Aslan!"
"What guardians; we have no guardians?" they complained, making nothing of this explanation.
"Four guardians kept watch over us, my friends. They stood before this cave, implacable and terrifying." The knights could see no meaning in this. "We saw nobody, yet they were there, right in front of us. Each was of great height and athletic build. At times they were as mighty warriors and at other times seemed as sages of great wisdom. Sometimes they were like great men and other times like powerful women. Their skins were brown, white and black by turn. Similarly, their hair was alternately flaxen, red, brown and yet black. Each bore a flaming sword."
"But how can this be?" protested his companions.
"Only by Aslan can it be," the Prince answered. "These guardians were robed in white and belted with golden cords. Their faces shone even in the darkness. Though barefoot and lightly dressed they exhibited no chill. Neither fear nor exhaustion did they show. They stood stock still, only turning their heads occasionally at movement. It was as if their eyes could see right through the branches and into the hearts of the countrymen. This is the tale told to me by the rustic, so let us give praise to Aslan for our salvation:
"Thou watcheth o'er us,
Like the shepherd his sheep,
We deserve not thy favour,
Yet it is freely given"
"This is the story of Prince Frank in the western wild. It is a story of faith and faith repaid, in overflowing fullness. Let Narnia never forget its faith in Aslan lest we bring disaster down upon ourselves. My story is over, my voice is hoarse, my purse empty. If it pleases you, Majesty, take pity upon me…" said Helmbert the story-teller.
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THE END
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Notes:-
There was a great number of 'Good Kings Frank' in ancient Narnia. Because records were unreliable it wasn't uncommon to simply say 'King Frank' without troubling about a regnal number.
* The origin of these Narnian legends or events is lost
1 Manteau: a coat
2 Mine-Wyrms: a wingless, dragon like beast found underground
3 Popinjay: a vain person, extravagantly dressed
4 Jackanapes: an impertinent person
5 Cockscomb: an extravagantly dressed person
6 Great freeze: the 100 year reign of the White Witch
7 Trees: a Narnian coin
8 'Another place': a Narnian term meaning our world (or another)
9 See my short story "the star-bride Aster and Aethelwold"
10 Torr: Old English for Tower. Mona: Old English for Moon
11 See my short story "Nest of Vipers (or Green Witch Rising)
12 See my short story "The Serpent in the Kirtle"
13 For Hynrid, Uffa and the Uffanglas see my short story "The Apple Tree in Winter"
14 See my short story "The Wild Dog of Kingdale"