Chapter 5: The Fancies of the King

Eustace was, as Edmund put it, "un-dragoned" and much improved. The Dawn Treader looked gay and seaworthy once again. Despite the storm and the calm and the adventures with Eustace the dragon, Caspian was eager to move onward and seek still more adventure. He was encouraged that they had found the fate of two of the lords so quickly, lamentable as Octesian's fate was.

They put out and found Burnt Island the next day, which was uninteresting except that Reepicheep found his boat there. Then there was the adventure with the Sea Serpent, a terrifying moment which left them all laughing with relief. That night they feasted on the deck of the Dawn Treader, and the air was thick with stories and songs. Caspian told of his war against Miraz and the battle of the High King Peter; the sailors told all the sea legends they knew. Then the singing began, and the whole company joined in the chorus. The harmony of all the voices was a cheerful sound that echoed over every inch of the small, proud ship. After they had exhausted all the songs they knew, Edmund got up and taught a sailor who was good on the pipes a tune, and he struck up an old Narnian marching song that hadn't been sung in that world for hundreds of years. Edmund's voice was far more musical than one would expect, and as he danced around the lantern-lit circle, the flash in his eyes brought to life all the half-forgotten campaigns he and his royal brother had led. Caspian felt a thrill travel down his spine. All through his childhood he had dreamed that the old stories were true, and now King Edmund the Just was singing in a blazing voice before his very eyes. He could hardly believe that all this was real, that he wouldn't wake up and find himself a boy in Miraz's dull and vaguely dangerous castle all over again.

After the merriment broke up and everyone went to bed, Caspian found he still had Edmund's tune in his head, and it was so stirring he couldn't stay in his hammock. He crept out of the cabin and came above deck.

The Dawn Treader, normally so full of voices and crowded with people, was a peaceful ship at night, under the moon. The moonlight was so bright he had no trouble seeing anything; it was just that the whole ship looked so magically silver in that light he didn't want to move for fear of breaking the spell of the beautiful light and the old music. The soft breeze carried a soft noise to him, the sound of singing. It was a girl's voice, not artful and accomplished but still beautiful in its clarity. Caspian followed the sound aft, moving as softly as he could. He knew it was Lucy, but he didn't want to disturb her and stop her singing. He reached the top of the ladder to the poop deck and saw her in her white night-dress, a soft garment which reached her feet and seemed to absorb the glow of the moonlight. The light shone silver in her hair, and she was looking out to sea.

Caspian never could decide how old Lucy was. Her slim form was that of a girl, very young still, and the roundness of her cheeks belied the fact that her childhood was not too far behind her. Yet in her manner of speaking, in the posture she struck here and the shades of complicated feelings which played across her face, he thought she must be his senior in age as well as title. He wondered if she felt this paradox, if it were not hard to go back to being a girl when she had already been a woman.

Lucy's song was the natural continuation of Edmund's, an ancient Narnian air breathed to life once more, but hers was a quieter melody, filled with a restive longing. Edmund had made him want to jump up and grab a sword and lead an army to battle; Lucy's made him long for something unnamed.

He didn't know how long the song lasted, how long he stood there, immobile, listening to her and trying to figure out what it was the song was drawing out of him. All he knew was that before its natural conclusion Lucy broke off singing because she saw him.

"Please. Don't stop. I so want to hear the end," he said to her in a low voice.

She nodded and resumed her singing. The song wasn't really that much longer, and after she finished she blushed and ducked her head. "I didn't think anyone else was awake," she confessed.

"I couldn't sleep. Edmund's song got into my head."

"It's not really Edmund's, you know. Peter was the one who sang it the night before he set out on any campaign. There would be a huge bonfire for the troops on the beach by Cair Paravel, and Peter would sing that song for the army to get them prepared. His voice wasn't quite as good as Edmund's but it was strong and noble, and sometimes that was even more inspiring."

"I would have liked to hear him sing it," Caspian said. "Edmund's rendition was stirring enough."

Lucy smiled. "It was. I've always liked to hear Edmund sing. He doesn't do it too often back in our world."

"Why not?" Caspian queried.

She turned her face towards the water again. "Things are different there." Then she looked back at Caspian and saw the bemusement in his face. "We aren't kings and queens, Edmund and Susan and Peter and I, we're just kids. And if we were ever to speak of Narnia, they would think we were mad. Eustace thought we were mad until he got here himself."

Caspian moved next to her and said with a soft laugh "I rather think Eustace thought you were mad until he became a dragon."

Lucy laughed too. "I think you might be right."

"Still," Caspian said, frowning at the reflection of the moonlight on the waves, "I find it hard to believe that you are just ordinary there. Is your whole world full of great heroes?"

"Goodness, no! Our world is full of men like the Telmarines, more worried about money and vanity than glory and justice. It's rather a sad place, especially after Narnia. Sometimes I can see in Peter's eyes that he would like to go riding off into battle to fight all the injustices, but he can't. And Edmund wants to sing his battle hymns, but he knows they'll think him crazy. I catch Susan looking in her closet sometimes and sighing; I know she wishes she could wear all the beautiful dresses she had here and dance at the balls like we used to."

"And you?"

"Me? I just wish I could share it with people. It's awful to have gone to Narnia and seen so many amazing things and yet not be able to share them all. I suppose you must have felt the same, hearing about Old Narnia when you were a small boy."

Caspian nodded, and his eyes grew pensive as he remembered the painful secrecy of Miraz's castle. He wanted to run into the forests and shake the trees till they awoke, but he never could. He couldn't even speak of the thing closest to his heart. And this was Lucy, in her own world. He took her hand out of sympathy, but as he did a thought struck him.

"Listen, Lucy," he said in a voice of quiet excitement. "Maybe it's true that Narnia isn't known to the people of your world. But until just three years ago, it was lost to the Narnians themselves. Then you returned, and you brought all the old stories to life. Couldn't you do that in your world? Couldn't you give them Narnia like you gave it back to us?"

Lucy blushed. "I didn't give it back. It was there all the time. It just needed to be awoken."

"Then awake your world."

Lucy didn't answer him in words, but a fire kindled in her eyes and she clasped his hand in gratitude. The intensity in her face made him a little uncomfortable. He needed to talk again, so he asked her, "If Edmund's song was about going to battle, what was yours about?"

"Mine? That was the song I used to sing when I waited for Edmund and Peter to come home again. One of the satyrs saw me sitting on the western balcony one night when they were gone, and he wrote it for me."

"It is a very powerful song," he murmured.

"It's hard, waiting for your brothers to come home. Riding off yourself is one thing: it's glorious and exciting and even if it's scary, that fear makes you feel a little more powerful. But the waiting, the walking the halls and knowing there's nothing you can do but pray and pace, that is one of the worst things in the world. Edmund was so terribly wounded at the first battle of Beruna that when he was away there were moments when all I could think of was that happening to him again. And I wasn't there with my cordial to help him."

"You speak as if you know what it's like to ride into battle," Caspian commented.

"I do…I used to ride with Edmund more than Peter; Peter didn't like me to come. Edmund was better about it—didn't you know I was at the Defense of Anvard?"

Caspian laughed with surprise. "My Queen, I don't think there's another woman like you in all this wide world! I have never before heard of a woman riding to battle!"

Lucy blushed. "I always wanted to go, but Peter was always reminding me of what Father Christmas had said when he gave us the gifts—'I do not mean for you to fight.' But one day we were out riding and some of the Witch's old allies set upon us. Peter commanded me and Susan to retreat, but we watched from the hill. And Peter was so foolish! He kept watching out for Edmund and not worrying about protecting himself at all, just as if Edmund didn't know how to be brave in a fight. Finally he was in definite peril. Edmund couldn't help him because he was already fighting a huge Minotaur, and Susan's hand was shaking so badly she couldn't even draw an arrow. I took out my dagger and I hit the beast advancing on Peter right between the eyes. After that, Edmund said that if I wanted to I ought to be allowed to go, because I had proven myself in battle. As much as he didn't like it, Peter was forced to admit he was right." She sighed and smiled a little. "I know Peter didn't doubt my bravery or my skill, he just didn't want to worry about me getting hurt. If it were up to him, he would have been the only one to go to war, leaving even Edmund home safe at Cair."

"What then would Peter have made of your adventures on the Dawn Treader?"

Lucy grinned. "He would have been out of his mind with worry during the storm, and like as not he would have made me drink all his water until he got dehydrated when we ran into the calm. But if he could have come, he wouldn't have missed the chance for all the world."

"You miss him."

"More than anything. The only thing that is missing from this voyage is Peter and Susan. I know I shouldn't question Aslan's will, but it's so hard. How can He deny Narnia it's High King?" Lucy's brow furrowed in frustration.

"That is more than I know," Caspian admitted.

Lucy looked up at him quickly. "I'm sorry. I've been going on forever, and now I must have spoiled the evening with my outburst."

"No, Lucy. In truth, there were times when I wish your brother the High King could return to Narnia. I could use his council. But we must be grateful for what we have. I may not see Peter again, but it is more than I hoped for to have Edmund here, and you. And then all the Narnians feel it. When you are here, they understand who we were before the Telmarines, and that is a good thing."

Her eyes were still watching his face when she said "Caspian, you teach me that I ought to be happier. Yet every time you speak, I think of something else I miss. I hate to think of all the things I loved as Old Narnia, old ruins."

"They'll be revived. I shall get the satyrs to write songs for me when I return home. You can help me. And we'll stand and sing them on the terrace facing east, looking out over the sea. Cair Paravel is restored, Lucy. We fixed it all. It's just as you and Peter and Susan and Edmund described it to me."

Lucy gasped with delight and grabbed his arm in her excitement. "Is it? Oh, Caspian! Imagine when we return! Do the mermaids still sing in the water? Is the Chamber of Instruments still there? Edmund spent a lot of time in there, you know. Have you kept some of the apple trees from the orchard? They planted those trees just before Rabadash's emissaries came to ask for Susan's hand. Now I hardly know whether I want to go forward or go home."

"There's time for both," Caspian said, smiling down at her. "And when we get back, you shall sit on your throne of old, and Edmund shall sit on his, and everyone in Narnia will cheer your return." His eyes glittered merrily. "Tell me you have a song for the look of joy on your face, Lucy. I would very much like to hear it."

"I can't sing. I can hardly speak. I'm too happy." She turned and embraced Caspian. "Thank you," she said, her voice muffled against him. "I was growing so melancholy, and now I realize just how lucky I am to be back in Narnia." She let him go and stepped back. "So much lies before us. Goodnight, Caspian! More adventures tomorrow!" With that, she disappeared with a flash of white gown and a joyous smile.

Caspian stared after her for a long moment, resting his back and his elbows on the railing of the ship. "I am the lucky one," he murmured softly. He stayed there long enough to watch dawn streak the horizon, humming snatches of Lucy's song all the while.