Chapter 6: While Lucy Was Upstairs

After they had left Deathwater behind them, the winds began to come from the west and they pressed forward, due now straight east. Caspian was up every morning at dawn to see the prow of the ship pointing directly toward the rising sun, living up to her name in every sense. Rarely was he alone to see this sight. Sometimes Reepicheep would stand beside him, or Edmund, or even Eustace, but more often than not it was Lucy. When she was there with him they rarely spoke, they just stood and watched the sunrise together. Though Drinian and Rynelf said that the sun wasn't any larger, Caspian knew Lucy agreed with his thought that it certainly was.

The trouble was the sea went on and on. There was no break in the horizon. The stores began to get low, and finally there came a day when Drinian told him that they could sail forward the morrow, but if no land appeared then they would have to turn back. He was depressed all day at the thought of abandoning their quest; he went to sleep early and did not get up at sunrise. What finally got him out of bed was Eustace clambering into the cabin shouting "There's land, Caspian! Dead ahead!"

Caspian was out of his hammock at once. "What?"

"Land, I say! Come and see!"

Caspian threw on his clothes and followed Eustace above deck. There, low on the horizon but quite near, was an island.

"I knew we wouldn't have to turn back," Reepicheep said beside him.

"Then you are a mouse of more faith than I," Caspian answered. "Come. I feel too impatient to sit here and wait for us to land. Let's have a game of chess to pass the time."

Reepicheep readily agreed to this, and in a few minutes they were in the stern cabin with the chessboard between them. Reepicheep was playing smart that day, and Caspian didn't have his wits about him, so he was making silly moves. Halfway through the game he saw that he had been making a crucial mistake all along. He was working too hard to protect his queen instead of unleashing her power, and he laughed at the folly of his own courtesy and tried to repair the damage as best he could.

He lifted his queen and paused in moving her to examine the gold figure. "Reepicheep," he said thoughtfully, "Is it true that the Narnians want me to take a queen?"

"I confess, Sire, it is near to all their hearts," Reepicheep said with a flourishing bow.

"But why?"

"I would have thought it would be obvious," Reepicheep answered. "All Narnia wants you to have a queen so that we can have an heir to the throne."

Caspian was disgusted. "That's all you want in a queen? A woman who can bear children? Why, a kitchen maid can do that!"

"Do not be offended, your Majesty. Think of it from our point of view. You are the first King in many hundreds of years who has shown any interest in reviving Old Narnia and giving equality to the Talking Beasts. It is only under your reign that the woods awoke and Narnia became what it was during the Golden Age. If you don't have an heir to inherit the throne and learn from your just kingship, what will happen to all of us?"

As Reepicheep was talking, Caspian finished his move and planted the queen on the board. "But that can't be all you want in a queen."

"I cannot speak for all of Narnia, my lord, but I know that for me I certainly want more than that. I want a queen who is just, and brave, and kind. A queen who loves her king and her country, who has the heart of a lion, who is, in every sense of the word—"

"Valiant," Caspian finished for him. "I see what you mean. And I don't mind telling you, Reep, I would like something like that myself." He looked up. "Well, I will try to do right by my people."

88888888888888888

There was nothing for it. The deal was done, and there was no way they could get out of it, not by honor or combat or stealth, though that was not due to lack of trying on Edmund's part. He hadn't slept all night trying to think of some way to escape. He had even solicited Caspian's help (in whispers, of course, as Reepicheep wouldn't approve) but neither of them could think of anything.

At breakfast that morning Lucy was trying hard to be cheerful, but Edmund could see the strain in her face. It did seem horribly unfair that these faceless people should want a girl. It would have been so much easier if he could have gone himself, mounting the stairs to face whoever this magician was with his sword drawn. He knew he could face evil magic.

Even in that moment he snickered at himself. Maybe I'm getting a bit too much like Peter, he thought. Still, it would be hard to watch Lucy disappear up those stairs. He may have spent the better part of their childhood teasing and torturing her, but the truth of the matter was that since their coronation at Cair Paravel 3 or twenty or 1,000 years ago, he had begun to realize that he was really very fortunate to have Lucy for a sister. The invisible people were, as she said, not very brave or very bright, but that didn't mean there wasn't any real danger. He was growing to like these cowards less and less by the minute.

His displeasure must have been showing on his face during their breakfast—which was very queer in its Englishness—because Reepicheep leaned over to him and whispered, "King Edmund, if I may be so bold, it is unseemly to scowl so. Your sister might see your displeasure, and it might make her afraid."

Edmund nodded and tried to talk naturally to Reepicheep and Eustace for the rest of the meal, all the while keeping a watch on Lucy out of the corner of his eye. He left her to be comforted by Caspian, who was seeming very good at that lately.

Finally the moment came when the dishes were cleared and the voices cheered her to the foot of the stairs with their incessant, inane comments. "Ah, there she goes! Never saw a lass who could walk better to the stairs! Keep it up! Keep it up!" till Edmund wanted to spin around with his fists held wide and hit as many of them as he could.

Lucy stared for a moment at the long stair and drew in a deep breath. Then she turned to the Narnians, who were all clustered around her.

"You have but to call," Reepicheep said, "And we'll be at your aid."

"We'll be here waiting," Caspian added. Edmund noticed that he was somewhat paler than usual.

Edmund hugged her. "Take care," he said to her, "and come back safe to us." Her old plea when he rode away to war.

She gave him a smile and started up the stairs. About five steps up she looked back to give them a smile and a little wave. Five steps more and she was at the landing. She turned left and disappeared into the mysteries of the house.

Edmund remained at the bottom of the stairs, staring after her with his hand on the banister. As soon as they saw her disappear, the invisible people all thumped away, leaving the Narnians in a tight cluster in an empty room. Edmund could hear them in the courtyard going about their business. Beasts, he thought viciously. It's so callous of them to go on as if they haven't a care in the world when they've left Lucy to deal with goodness knows what danger. Cold, unfeeling brutes.

After awhile the others broke off the group and moved about the room, which was so very much like all the sitting rooms Edmund had ever been in back in England. Drinian went and stood by the windows with his hands behind his back, staring over the lawn towards the Dawn Treader with a dark expression on his face. Eustace flopped in the nearest armchair, then, five minutes later, moved to another, then another, making a constant rotation of all the chairs in the room. Reepicheep was pacing with his hand on his sword hilt.

Someone else was waiting at the foot of the stairs alongside him. He turned after a long while and gave Caspian a thin smile, which Caspian returned. "I've never met a braver woman than Lucy," Caspian offered. "I think she'll be fine."

"You're right about that," Edmund agreed. But he noticed that the conviction didn't quite reach Caspian's eyes, which reflected the worry he himself was feeling.

Edmund continued to watch the stairwell for some minutes afterwards, until at last he turned away with a scoff at himself. "I'm growing too overprotective," he declared. "You're right—she is brave. They didn't call her valiant for nothing. And she's always counted on me not to dote on her."

Reepicheep heard this and came over. "Ah, but King Edmund, she is a lady, and it is your duty—indeed, it is all our duties—to protect her. You especially are the guardian of her person and her honor. She needs you."

"That may well be true for other ladies," Caspian said, "but as for Lucy, I don't think she needs anyone. She accepts our protection because it comes from love, but she's more than able to take care of herself."

Edmund laughed. "Now that's true! Susan always went for more courtly manners, and though she could shoot the best of anyone in Narnia, she hardly ever picked up her bow. Lucy was always riding or shooting or hunting for some adventure."

"Did she really ride with you to battle?" Caspian asked.

"She did. She was something to see too, with her bow, commanding the archers. Of course the Calormenes all made fun of her at the battle of Anvard, but she didn't care at all. She was just happy Archenland was safe. If she can take that on, she can take on a magician." Edmund leaned his back against the banister with a thoughtful expression as he said this.

"She's not one in the courtly fashion," Reepicheep commented, twirling his whiskers.

"No, she is not," Caspian agreed. "And I like her the better for it." He clenched his fists and looked down a moment, as if summoning courage. "King Edmund," he said at last, looking up, "There is a petition I want to put before you. Will you hear it?"

Edmund knitted his brows together, unused to such formalities from Caspian. Still, he could see in Caspian's face that this was in fact serious, so he said, "Certainly. What is it?"

By this time Eustace had wandered over to the conversation. Caspian glanced at him and said "Yes, you'd better hear this too, Eustace. Would you excuse us, Reepicheep?"

With a bow and without a question, Reepicheep went to pace the other end of the room, over by Drinian.

"Gentlemen," Caspian began, "Perhaps you know that Narnia is anxious I should take a wife."

"No!" Eustace exclaimed. "How odd, Caspian. You're so young. I mean in our world, back in England, it would be almost mad to start hunting for a wife at your age. It would be—"

"Shh, Eustace," Edmund admonished. "He's trying to tell us something. We've heard of it, Caspian. Go on."

"Well, I have thought the matter over, and I have seen a share of marriageable young ladies here in this world. And I was thinking that, maybe, if you were to come back to Narnia with us, Lucy and I could become betrothed." Caspian's hands looked very clammy as he said this.

Edmund stared at him openmouthed. This was by far the oddest conversation he had ever had. Apart from their clothes, he and Caspian and Eustace could all be schoolmates talking on the dormitory stairs. He had certainly stood like this with both arms stretched out on the polished wood of the banister plenty of times before. And yet here was Caspian talking of marrying Lucy.

"Bethrothed?" Eustace gasped. "You're too young, but for Lucy it's illegal! She can't!"

Caspian turned his pale face to Edmund, who said much more quietly. "She's so young. She's still a girl."

"I know. I know. But we wouldn't have to get married right away. We could wait—I would be willing. More than willing."

"There's no telling when we'll go back, though," Edmund pointed out. He spoke softly and kindly because he could see that Caspian's cheeks were so red and his eyes were darting nervously between him and Eustace.

"I know. Last time was so short. But before that, you were here for years. Only Aslan knows, but it might be the same this time." Now a light of hope kindled in Caspian's eyes.

"That's Lucy's and my hope also. But still, Caspian, she's so young." He was feeling distinctly uncomfortable. This was not how it had gone before. Edmund was unaccustomed to receiving petitions for his sisters. Usually Peter took on the suitors while he offered council to Susan and, less often, to Lucy. He wished Peter were there, although he was pretty sure that even he would have been at a loss for what to say. The suitors who used to come for his sisters had not been his friends. Nor, in fact, had he met such a perfect match for Lucy. Despite being a handful of years older than Lucy—though that would matter less and less as they both got older—Caspian was her equal in every other way. He was intrepid, he was warm-hearted and generous, he loved Narnia and its people. He was even a king, of the right station, though when the florid Galmian duke in his forties came as Susan's first suitor, he and Peter decided then and there that rank and station were the last concern for their sisters. Still, it helped that with Caspian, Lucy could fulfill her greatest wish and be Queen of Narnia again.

Yes, that was the trouble exactly. If the roles were as they should have been and Peter was taking Caspian's petition, Edmund wouldn't hesitate to tell Lucy that she should take the offer. And if she were just a few years older herself, he doubted very much that she would even need his advice.

"Edmund!" Eustace exclaimed. "You're not considering this!"

"Quiet, and let a chap think," Edmund said, shooting a glance at Eustace. He rubbed his chin. The real trouble was that Lucy wasn't even thirteen yet. How could he promise away her whole life like that? Her heart wasn't his to give away, especially when she was too young to even consider marriage a reality. He was sure that for her it was still some gauzy dream in a white dress, if she thought about it at all. Of course he reasoned, Juliet, the most famous of all lovers, was fourteen. But she came to a pretty bad end.

He looked up at Caspian, prepared in his mind to make the refusal, but the words died in his throat. It had been easy to bid the Galmian dukes and the Terbinthian earls goodbye. He had thought of a good many parting words for Rabadash. But among all of those suitors, not one of them could be called his friend. Now he was face to face with Caspian, and saying no would mean letting down his friend. Not just letting him down—from the look of anticipation deep in his eyes, saying no would crush him.

Caspian, sensing the opening, pressed forward. "I know she's still a girl," he said, "But she will grow. She will not stay a girl forever. And even as she grows, some things will not change: she will always be Lucy the Valiant, the bravest queen of Narnia, the monarch so admired throughout history and first adventurer to Narnia, and I cannot imagine spending my life with anyone else."

Edmund watched him carefully all the while he gave his impassioned plea. He spoke now in a measured voice. "Are you quite sure you are in love with Lucy, and not old Narnia? Forgive me, but you seem to speak more about her legacy than of Lucy herself."

Caspian opened and shut his mouth quickly, and the look in his eyes told Edmund that he had either stunned Caspian with a direct blow or shot impossibly wide of the mark. He remained silent, watching Caspian until Eustace tugged on his sleeve and whispered, "Give him a fair shake, Edmund. You know he's not that sort."

Eustace was not a very subtle person. Caspian overheard, but this seemed to loosen his tongue. "Edmund, you know it's not just that. Lucy is—I've never met anyone like her. She's so brave and so cheerful and so steadfast. When I'm with her, I feel like I'm lucky just to know her, that talking with her makes some of her radiance rub off on me. Please believe me, Edmund."

Edmund looked hard at Caspian and nodded once. Perhaps you do love her, after your own fashion. But is this really love? Where is the passion? Where is the desire? Caspian's certainly old enough, but he speaks with all of Lucy's innocence, and I can't help but believe him. Can this be true? All of those men who came for Susan—some of them may have loved her, but all of them wanted her bodily. Didn't Rabadash look at her with such hungry eyes? There is no hunger in Caspian's eyes, and I don't understand it. I don't even know if without it, that's the kind of love that can make a marriage. But then, have I seen any of them happily married? All of us were old enough, but Susan never found anyone, even Rabadash was a fleeting affection. Peter may have come closest, but even he didn't know how to create a partnership that would last a lifetime. I calculated too much, I thought too hard. Maybe Lucy, with all her innocence has found the best and truest love.

Finally Edmund pushed his hand through his hair and shook his head. "Listen, Caspian, I can't make any promises to you now. Lucy's too young. But if she…if she shows she's willing, if she shows she loves you, then you have my blessing."

Caspian stepped forward and embraced Edmund. He didn't say anything. He seemed unable to.

"But listen," Edmund warned. "You mustn't say anything to Lucy. If she knew you loved her she'd marry you anyway, whether she loved you or not. She'd never want to see you hurt. If she agrees, I want it to be all of her own accord."

Caspian nodded. Eustace, looking between the two, threw up his hands and said in exasperation "I'll never understand this world. Just when I think I'm getting used to it, something completely mad happens. We're either finding a lake that turns things to gold and sailing away or finding an English manor house filled with invisible people or my thirteen year old cousin is getting betrothed to a king. I give up. Reepicheep, there's a chess set over there. Match me in a game; I think I'm losing my mind."