Chapter 26

House Pevensie's Encampment

Glimfeather knew that Eustace would ask him to go to Peter. Of course, he would. One of the best things about himself, Glimfeather knew, was his wings, and what true Narnian would he be if he didn't try and help restore his leader to his rightful place? Eustace had pleaded with Glimfeather to go to Peter, and besides his mission wasn't exactly over, either. His mission had been to deliver Ramandu's message to Peter, which he had yet to do.

He flew southeasterly to begin with, when the sun was high, scouring the ground for signs of an encampment when eventually he saw a cluster of tents and dove down to investigate. Glimfeather perched in a nearby tree, spying on the group. He didn't want to give himself away to Telmarines, lest he be executed on sight for being an old, true Narnian, because as far as everyone was concerned, they were extinct. Glimfeather knew they were safer keeping up that lie.

As he watched them, he saw people come and go that he sort of recognised, including Rhince, who Glimfeather knew was an old friend of Caspian's. The man was moving a chair into a tent and then, with a help of another man, a table.

"The King wants us to hunt for this evening's dinner," he announced to a young boy. "Go and ask the cook for his stocks and see what needs catching."

The boy nodded and left. Glimfeather was now even more confused. Had Rhince begun working for Miraz? He would have never expected it of the man. Rhince had been one of the most devout among them. Glimfeather was just about to take off when Rhince caught another passing boy and gripped his shoulder.

"Find a raven," he instructed, holding out a small letter. "It is to go to Winterfell, to the King's cousin."

The King's cousin? Thought Glimfeather. At Winterfell? Now he knew he was definitely in the right place. The owl swooped low and perched on top of one of the tent poles.

"Good sirs," he began. "I think I can help you there?" Rhince turned at the sound, looking around for a human. "Up here," Glimfeather called.

Rhince looked up as instructed. "Glimfeather," he gasped, his mouth open. "Is that you?"

"It is," the owl said, with a gentle bow. "I have just come from the King's cousin at Winterfell."

"From the traitor?"

Glimfeather sighed. "I suppose, yes. I'm here to see his Majesty if I may."

"He will be most excited to see you," said Rhince, gesturing an opening in the tent. "If you could take this message for his Highness, we would be most grateful to you." Rhince handed the envelope out to Glimfeather, who fluttered down and hovered in front of Rhince.

"It would be my honour," said Glimfeather, then took the envelope from Rhince's outstretched hand in his beak.

The owl dropped to the earth with a gentle thud and padded his feet through the gap and into the tent. There Peter sat, admiring his new table and chair from which, Glimfeather assumed, he was to conduct his business. Glimfeather sat the envelope down at his feet.

"Glimfeather?" questioned Peter, on seeing the owl. "Can it be?"

"It is, your Majesty," nodded Glimfeather. "May I?" he asked, gesturing a wing to Peter's desk. Glimfeather picked up the envelope again in his beak.

"Of course, please," said Peter, and Glimfeather hopped up onto the wood with a swift bat of his wings. "I can't believe you're here. How are you here? Where have you come from? Where have you been?"

Glimfeather sat the envelope down again. "I have been on a long and arduous journey, your Majesty," said the owl. "I set out during the battle to find help for our cause. I flew across the sea to Ramandu to seek help for us. But as I got there, Ramandu told me the battle was over and we had lost."

"He spoke the truth. We did lose," replied Peter. "So many men died that day, so many old Narnians who fought in our name. You among them, I assumed."

"I'm so sorry, your Majesty," said Glimfeather. "I should have come sooner."

"No matter now," Peter shook his head. "I'm glad you're safe. Have you been with Ramandu all this time?"

"I have," agreed Glimfeather. "I didn't know where the safest place would be, so I stayed under his instruction."

"Very wise."

"Thank you, your Majesty. Ramandu has sent me to you with a message," said Glimfeather. "I went to Winterfell to find you and found Eustace there alone. He told me about what happened –,"

"I'm sure he asked you to come and see me," replied Peter. "He has sent me many letters asking me to return to the castle, but I can't," he said, gesturing to the pile of letters at his feet.

"I understand," nodded Glimfeather. "But first I must tell you my message, your Majesty."

"I'm listening," said Peter, and Glimfeather took a deep breath, knowing he was about to change his King's life, and perhaps his course.

"King Caspian is alive, your Majesty," he muttered, for he didn't know whose ears would be listening and whether Peter could trust them. "He is alive across the sea with Ramandu and his daughter. He is making his way back to Narnia to reclaim his throne."

Peter clasped his hands together and looked up. Glimfeather allowed him the moment for his words to digest. Peter sighed deeply, and then returned to the owl. "This is the best news we could have hoped for, Glimfeather. I'd heard rumours, but I never believed them to be true. Even Miraz believes it."

"I'm so glad to have been the one to tell you, your Majesty," nodded Glimfeather. "Ramandu has mercenaries in Narrowhaven which he and Caspian mean to collect. He is aboard the Dawn Treader sailing west as we speak, with many Narnians alive also."

Peter gulped and nodded. "This is good news, Glimfeather. Mr Tumnus and the Beavers? Reepicheep? Glenstorm?"

"All alive," confirmed Glimfeather.

Peter sighed again. "How long do we have before they arrive?"

"A while yet," replied Glimfeather. "So, you have time."

"Very well," nodded Peter. "We will begin to make plans."

"Your man, Rhince, said you were sending a message to Eustace," said Glimfeather, nodding to the entrance of the tent. "But you said you aren't taking up Eustace's invitation to return to Winterfell?"

Peter looked down and shook his head. "No, Glimfeather, I'm not."

The owl nodded. "I understand."

"I'm sending him an execution order."

The owl's head snapped up. "You're what?"

"I have to Glimfeather, don't you understand? Eustace betrayed his Liege Lord."

"But he's your cousin?!" cried the owl. "Surely… surely… some arrangement can be reached."

"If Eustace ever sets foot in my encampment, he will be executed. We just have to hope that doesn't happen," said Peter, matter-of-factly.

The two of them fell to silence, the weight of Peter's words hanging in the air between them. It was at this moment Glimfeather noticed the silence outside the tent, remembering that Rhince had taken some men off to hunt. "A person could almost be forgiven for thinking we might be at war," the owl said, gently. "It often comforts me to think that even on our darkest days, in most places of the world, absolutely nothing is happening."

Peter forced a weak smile. "I wonder how many times Susan has looked out from her chambers waiting for me to rescue her. I don't think I'll ever see her again," he said, his voice cracking a little.

"You mustn't think it," said Glimfeather, hopping closer. "Eustace told me what happened. Susan is more capable than she realises, and she has Lucy there with her. We must go on believing and remain strong if we are to prevail. And you must remain strong for her."

Peter looked up, his eyes shimmering with tears. "Where is Aslan?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"I don't know," Glimfeather whispered after a moment. "But I know that he would be distraught about what has gone on between you and Eustace," he said, nodding to the envelope in front of him. "He would urge you to find another way."

"Aslan would want me to act with honour," snapped Peter, who then wiped his eyes and composed himself. "Aslan would want me to be a good King."

"He would tell you that you already are," Glimfeather said, softly.

The Lone Islands

News spread around the Dawn Treader like wildfire, and before the day was out, everyone knew that the Prince and heir to the Narnian Throne was in the Queen's belly. It seemed as though everyone breathed a sigh of relief at the news. Finally, they all had something tangible to focus on, and above all else, a future. The Caspian line would continue, one way or another.

"They're so rowdy," chuckled Caspian, sitting at his desk. The sounds of the crew celebrating reverberated around the wood of the ship. Caspian knew that Glenstorm was already drunk by the way his hooves clattered along to the pan pipes Mr Tumnus played.

"You should go out and join them," said Lilliandil, smiling sweetly.

Caspian nodded, giving a weak smile in return. "I know, but there is much to prepare. I'm far more use being sober in here than I am being drunk out there."

Lilliandil glided over to the chair opposite Caspian's desk and sat down. Her skin glowed in the gentle moonlight that shone in from the window. Her hair, glossy and gleaming, cascaded down her back like a waterfall. She was beautiful, Caspian thought… but…

"What was he like?" Lilliandil asked, breaking the silence. It was as if she had read his mind. Perhaps, Caspian thought, she had.

He looked up, having dreaded this conversation ever since Ramandu betrothed him to Lilliandil. He knew he would have to talk about Edmund at some point, but he didn't realise it would be this soon. Caspian thought he had time, time to work out what it was he was going to say, but in that moment, he realised it was futile. The time was now, and the best thing he could do was be honest. She deserved that much.

But Caspian gulped, his throat dry. "Who?" he asked, fiddling awkwardly with his quill, trying to buy more time.

Lilliandil cocked her head. "You don't talk about him."

"You never asked about him, not once," countered Caspian, pressing his lips together.

"I didn't need to," Lilliandil said, shaking her head gently. "But now I do."

"Why?" asked Caspian, but then he realised, he knew why. Lilliandil had walked into this marriage prepared to give him everything, including a son and heir. And he had given her barely half of him. He had given her his body and not much else. He wasn't expected to, as a King, he could do as he pleased. But Caspian had always conducted himself in a way that was more than expected of a King. And on those terms, he had let her down. He had let her down more than any of his subjects and she was supposed to be his wife.

Caspian gulped and inhaled deeply. "At first just thinking about him, even in private, felt like I was breathing life back into him. I thought that if I didn't talk about him, even say his name, then he would just fade away. But then I realised I didn't want that. I started to forget what he looked like, what he smelt like, what he felt like. I realised that he was the one thing in this whole world that I ever wanted. Not all of Narnia could fill that hole he left behind."

It was the most honest he had been in a long time, with himself and with someone else. Lilliandil shifted in her seat, awkwardly. "I do feel something for you, you know," she said softly.

"I'm so sorry," Caspian said, reaching out a hand for her to take. She placed her palm in his delicately. "I didn't want this for you. I care about you, deeply. You're the mother of my child."

"But…" Lilliandil added, forcing a weak smile.

"But…" Caspian agreed.

They sat like that for a moment, the flames of the candles flickering, casting shadows against the wood.

"Was it ever possible for us? Was there ever a time? Ever a moment?" Lilliandil asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Caspian braced himself. "Not if I'm being honest with myself." He took a beat. "Does that make you feel better or worse?"

Lilliandil retracted her hand, slowly, her face hardening. "It doesn't make me feel anything," she said, getting up and walking out of the room.