Chapter 7: A Minor Setback
For the first time, Caspian was starting to wonder if this whole adventure had been a bad idea. The ride in the transport machine had been a novel experience, but this 'police station' they'd been taken to was a dreary place, where the inhabitants were even less friendly than they'd seen elsewhere. They'd been stripped of their swords and forcibly searched, and then, once at the station, Drinian and Trumpkin were forced to stand against a wall while they pointed something at them that made a bright flash. No one seemed to know who Lucy and Edmund were.
Afterwards, Caspian was invited into a man's office who introduced himself as Constable Joloski. He was middle-aged, brusque, and was smoking some fat tube that made a terrible smell. He was staring in vague disbelief at Caspian's sword, lying sheathed on his desk.
"Where did you get this crazy thing?" he asked, inspecting it.
"It was a gift," Caspian said. "Where did those men take my friends? Can we leave now?"
"You can leave, kid. Go home to your parents. Your friends are under arrest for assault."
"What does that mean?" Caspian asked. "Are they being held prisoner?"
He received a blank stare in response, and then, "Listen, boy, next time, why don't you and your friends play knights and castles in your back yard instead of the street?"
"I assure you, sir, most sincerely, that my friends and I will not cause any more trouble. Please allow us to leave in peace."
"If you really want to get them outta here, you can pay bail."
"I don't have any currency," Caspian sighed. He thought for a moment, and then said, "If you would help me contact my friends, they might be able to provide funds."
"Your problem, not mine."
Caspian was about to reply, when a lady entered the office. Caspian quickly stood up. She leaned against the doorway, folding her arms.
"Do you know their telephone number?"
"I beg your pardon?" Caspian said.
"Your friends. Do you know their telephone number?"
"Sadly, I only know their names," Caspian said, deciding that this number she spoke of must be some kind of tracing tool.
"Mind your own business, Fran," Joloski said, sharply, taking his smoking device out of his mouth for a moment.
"I'll go and fetch a phone directory," she said, smiling at Caspian and ignoring the constable. "Wait right here."
Caspian smiled back, although he didn't understand what she meant by phone directory. All he knew was that this was the first person he'd met since arriving who seemed genuinely interested in being helpful. "Thank you most kindly, my lady," he said, bowing his head slightly.
"Oh, please," the constable said, blowing smoke everywhere. "This is the 1940s, not fifteen hundred!"
The lady had left, so Caspian resumed his seat. "Have I done something to offend you, sir?"
The constable merely continued to smoke, while mumbling something about a lunatic asylum. Before long, the lady returned, carrying a large fat book. "Here we go," she said, placing it on the desk.
Caspian had instantly risen to his feet, causing the constable to slam his hand on the armrest. "Will you stop bobbing up and down like a yo-yo?"
Fran, the lady, sat on the desk. "What is your friend's name?"
"Edmund, Lucy or Eustace," Caspian said.
"Surname?"
"Surname ... oh ..." Caspian thought for a moment. He'd never understood why they had two names in the first place. Wasn't one sufficient?
"You're wasting your time, Fran," Joloski said. "He doesn't even have a surname."
"Scrubb," Caspian said, finally. "Eustace Scrubb. By the dragons, I can't remember Lucy or Edmund's."
"By the dragons," Joloski repeated. "This one is a basket case, I swear it."
Fran opened the book and started leafing through it. Finally, she stopped at a page and showed it to Caspian. "There're three Scrubbs." She then reached over and dragged an odd black device over to Caspian. It had a circle on the front with numbers around the edge.
Caspian opened the book in the middle and skimmed over the pages. It seemed to be a listing of names with associated numbers.
"This black device will allow me to talk with Eustace?" Caspian said, catching on.
"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me," the constable said, shaking his head.
"You've never seen a telephone before?" Fran said, raising an eyebrow.
He shook his head.
"You must live in the middle of nowhere."
"If you would be so kind as to show me how it works," Caspian said.
"Well see you lift up the receiver ..." she proceeded to show him where to talk and how to dial the numbers. Then she had to explain what an 'operator' was, which took a good minute. When they finally got through to the correct number, Caspian heard a male voice say, "Hello?"
"Hello," he replied.
"Who is this?" the other voice said.
"Caspian," Caspian replied. "I want to talk with Eustace."
"There's no one called Eustace here. Wrong number."
Then he heard a click and a flat tone.
"They said there was no one called Eustace there," he told Fran.
"Try another number," she said. "It has to be one of them, and there's only three."
Neither of the two other Scrubbs had heard of Eustace either. Finally, he recalled that Eustace lived in a place called Cambridge. Fran returned with the Cambridge telephone directory, and this time, a female voice answered.
"Hello, Alberta speaking."
"Hello," Caspian said, more confidently this time. He was getting used to this now. The first time, he hadn't truly believed the person on the other end would be able to hear him. "May I speak to Eustace?"
"Who is this?" she asked, sounding suspicious.
"Caspian."
"Caspian who?"
"Please, ma'am, I have an urgent matter I must speak with Eustace about."
"What is this urgent matter?"
"I would prefer to keep that between us," Caspian said.
"I am his mother, young man. I think I have a right to know."
Caspian sighed. "Very well. I am a friend of his and his cousins, Edmund and Lucy, and -"
"Oh, you're a friend of theirs are you? Well, frankly, I would appreciate it if you would stay away from my son. Goodbye!"
Caspian heard a loud click and then a dull tone. He immediately tried to call the number again, but something seemed to be preventing it from working.
He looked up to ask Fran for further assistance, but she had left the room. Through the open door, he could see her over the other side of the office, talking with another female colleague.
"Okay, that's it," Joloski said, dragging the telephone back across his desk. "Get out of here. Go back to your castle, Sir Lancelot."
"I need to free my friends."
"I told you. Pay the bail."
"Would you accept gold?" Caspian asked.
The man laughed in a less-than-kind manner.
"Yeah, bring me gold. And maybe a few horses ... some of these swords. A suit of armor."
"Why would you need horses?" Caspian said, suspiciously. "I've seen your transport machines."
"Okay, no horses," Joloski said, taking another puff. "But gold. Lots of gold."
"And then you will you free my friends?" Caspian asked.
"Sure."
"I will return soon," Caspian said. "Until then, do I have your word upon your honour that my friends will not be mistreated?"
"What do you think this is? A Nazi p.o.w. camp?"
"Is that a yes?" Caspian asked.
"Sure, kid."
Caspian walked slowly down the front steps of the police station. Several people walking the other way gave him odd stares, but he didn't even notice now. The thought of his friends, trapped in prison, all because he didn't keep his mouth shut. Friends who would give their lives for him without a second thought. Friends who trusted him absolutely ...
"Excuse me."
Caspian turned around, and found Fran had followed him.
"Are you going to be all right? You don't need directions?"
"I can find my way," Caspian said. "But I thank you for your concern and assistance. I was beginning to think friendly people were hard to come by in this place. You have changed my mind." He bowed, and then walked on down the stairs.
He heard footsteps, and found Fran was now walking beside him.
"Well, Caspian, I'd love to visit the place you call home. Are all the boys raised to be as polite as you?"
"Oh, I'm not always polite," Caspian said. Sad memories returned to his mind. "Sometimes I can behave quite shamefully. Usually when I don't think before I act. If I'd done that today, my friends and I would not have ended up in this dire situation."
"I have to go back," Fran said. "But listen - cheer up. I'll tell your friends that you're going to pay bail. They'll probably just be let off with a warning ... hire a decent lawyer, and you may even make something out of this. Come back and talk to me if you have any problems. My shift ends in an hour."
She walked off back up the steps, and Caspian stared after her, curiously. The manner in which she spoke to him seemed almost ... motherly. Being in this land, where he was in ignorance of so many things, made him feel very much like the child that Constable Joloski seemed to think he was. He was starting to feel less like the king of Narnia with every step he took and more like a foolish boy who'd been so eager to pursue an adventure, he hadn't stopped to consider the dangers.
He paused for a moment, and closed his eyes. This was a minor setback. Nothing more. He would go back to Narnia, retrieve some gold from the treasury and then return to free his friends. If Joloski wouldn't accept the gold, he would return with a rescue party, and they'd free Drinian and Trumpkin by stealth. Their prison wasn't fortified - a rescue could be achieved quickly and cleanly.
It was growing darker by the time he reached the street where Drinian and Trumpkin had been arrested. There was almost no one around this time, and the buildings looked deserted and dreary. As he searched for the entrance to the alleyways, he noticed many structures were falling apart. One was lying in a mass of blackened and burnt rubble. He didn't want to think about what kind of enemy could wreck such damage on this town.
The paint Drinian had left on the walls led him back to their arrival spot. There was a brief moment of panic when he found the metal barrel was not where he'd left it ... but this passed when he saw it had only been blown a few feet away. He could only hope the Gateway wasn't damaged. The thought of being trapped in this unfamiliar world ...
The device appeared intact. When he switched it on, it lit up with the familiar green glow. Then Caspian retrieved Edmund's torch, and quickly held it in the activation field. Nothing happened.
"No!" Caspian said, frustrated. "No, do not fail on me! Please, please, work!"
He tried again, but still nothing. Fear nearly overcame him for a moment, and then he almost laughed out loud. More stupidity. To get into this world, he'd required an object from this world - Edmund's torch. So, logically, he needed a Narnian object to get back to Narnia. Truly, either the smelly air in this place was addling his mind, or he was losing his sanity.
He felt around in his pockets, and then held out the multi-tool. Once again, everything turned white.
"What do you think Caspian's doing?" Trumpkin asked, drumming his legs against the base of the bed.
"No doubt trying to secure our release," Drinian said, fingering the cell bars.
"You sound very calm," Trumpkin remarked.
"We've found a way out of worse trouble than this," Drinian said, turning back. "I found some playing cards on the shelf. May I interest you in a game?"
Trumpkin readily agreed. Soon, they were quietly occupied.
"Do you think Aslan intended for us to end up like this?" Trumpkin asked, after a while.
"My lord, you don't really believe that the Lion actually sent us here, do you?"
Trumpkin stopped looking at his cards, and stared at Drinian in surprise. "Are you saying the King lied to us?"
"Bent the truth, perhaps. It was you who suggested he had actually spoken to Aslan, if you recall."
"He didn't deny it! Kites and kippers, what was he thinking?"
"Relax, my friend," Drinian said, calmly shifting the order of his cards around. "I'm sure it will all turn out all right."
Trumpkin was about to respond, when they were interrupted by footsteps. Two ladies appeared on the other side of the bars. Drinian had seen them earlier, when he and Trumpkin were having their fingerprints recorded, for some strange reason.
"Ladies," he said, standing up and bowing.
"Have you come to let us out?" Trumpkin asked, impatiently.
"I just thought I'd make sure you were comfortable," the older of the two said. "Your friend Caspian is making arrangements to pay bail. He's left now, but he said he'd return shortly."
"Thank you, ma'am," Drinian said.
The older one left, but the younger one stayed. She was smiling at Drinian.
"You're allowed a telephone call if you wish ... perhaps you might want to call your wife to say where you are?"
Drinian was confused, but he tried not to show it. Perhaps a phone was a type of messenger bird. "Thank you, ma'am, but there is no one either of us need to inform."
"Ah, not married? How does a handsome charmer like you stay single?"
Drinian was utterly taken aback. Trumpkin rocked with laughter, and then said, "Drinian, here, is married to the ocean."
"You're in the navy?" she asked, brightly. "On shore leave? So, is it true what they say about you sailors?" She gave him a wink.
The older lady returned, and quickly dragged her younger colleague away.
"That was an odd experience," Drinian said, turning back to the cards. "The ladies are very hard to comprehend in this world."
"Isn't that true everywhere?" Trumpkin asked.