Chapter 10: The Last Sailing of the King and Queen
All was different after Ramandu's island. Caspian felt they truly had crossed over some border into the freest, farthest reaches of the world. He couldn't get enough of the strangeness of those last seas. He was up every morning well before dawn to see the sun rise even though he could hardly bear the quantity of light. He didn't want to talk or laugh or even move; all he wanted to do was look at everything around him.
No one on the ship talked much or slept much. The only sound that could be regularly heard was singing: either the wild song of the white birds in the morning, or, at other times, Edmund or Lucy singing as they went about the ship. Their old Narnian airs lent a further tinge of surreality to those seas, for when had the world last heard those melodies? How was it that the voice of King Edmund, a thousand years old, was heard on the deck of the Dawn Treader?
One afternoon he was keeping Rhince company at the tiller. Neither was saying much, and Caspian was trying to force his eyes to adjust to the light. He thought he could see Lucy around midship leaning over the side and Drinian and another figure approach her, but he couldn't be sure if it was Edmund or Eustace. It was too hard to see. Caspian also couldn't look at Lucy's hair; it was far too bright.
There was a faint splashing sound and a cry of "Man overboard!" from the fighting top. Rhince started to bring the ship around at once, before Drinian even commanded it. Caspian rushed forward to find out who had fallen off the ship and found Drinian raving about Reepicheep. "Keel haul the blasted mouse, maroon him," Drinian was muttering with a very anxious look in his face.
The ship came around and Caspian could see the mouse's black shape bobbing on the waves. He leaned as far over the side as he could, trying to decide if he should jump in the water to help Reepicheep, but Drinian pushed him back. "Stand aside," he said to everyone. "I hope I can heave a mouse up without help." Caspian knew that Drinian had dispensed with formalities because he was so worried about Reepicheep, though he couldn't understand why. Everyone knew Reepicheep was a wonderful swimmer. But as Drinian pulled the mouse onto the deck Caspian heard him whisper "Don't tell. Not a word."
There was no time to even wonder what Drinian might be referring to because Reepicheep was chirruping excitedly, repeating the word "Sweet!" over and over. It took a couple of minutes and quite a few questions before Reepicheep could make them understand that the water was sweet and the rhyme the Dryad had said over him had come true; they were in the utter East.
Drinian lowered a bucket and offered it to Caspian. The water reflected all the light of the sky, and Caspian could hardly bear to look at it. He could hardly believe this was water, it was so shining, and he raised the bucket with both hands to take an experimental sip. The water was more than sweet. He took a longer draught, and he felt it course through his whole body. He felt lighter and more alive than he ever had. The taste of the water took his breath away, it was more powerful than the strongest wine, and it had a taste that was sweet but not sugary, and clearer and fresher than the ripest fruit. "Yes," he said to everyone "it's sweet. That's real water, that. I'm quite sure it isn't going to kill me. But it is the death I would have chosen—if I'd known about it till now."
"What do you mean?" Edmund asked.
"It's—it's like light more than anything else," Caspian answered.
"That's what it is," Reepicheep said with certainty. "Drinkable light. We must be very near the end of the world now."
There was a pause, and in that moment Caspian realized another affect the water had on him. He had been squinting his eyes against the light since they had sailed from Ramandu's island, but now he found he could take it all in, even the shiniest, most glittering things. He could stare right at the gilded paint on the ship, and Drinian's shining helmet was a marvel to look at. He could count every hair on Lucy's head as she knelt to drink from the bucket.
She rose and looked at Caspian. "That's the loveliest thing I've ever tasted," she gasped. "But oh—it's strong. We shan't need to eat anything now." He noticed that her face had changed. Her eyes shone more, even her skin seemed brighter. Her hair took on all the colors of the sun. He wanted to tell her that she was beautiful, but then he didn't want to talk and break the lovely stillness that was running through the ship. And then, he was quite sure if he said anything the crew would hear, and that would be a little awkward.
Everyone was drinking in the effects of the water and so no one said anything until after dinner, when Drinian pondered the current. There was a terrible and awesome moment when Reepicheep suggested they might just be poured over the side of the earth. Caspian didn't know if he wanted this or not.
Eustace broke in. "But look here, this is all rot. The world's round—I mean, round like a ball, not like a table."
Edmund frowned. "Our world is. But is this?"
Caspian stared at them in wonderment. "Do you mean to say that you three come from a round world (round like a ball) and you've never told me! It's really too bad for you. Because we have fairy tales in which there are round worlds and I always loved them. I've always wished there were and I've always longed to live in one. Oh, I'd give anything—I wonder why you can get into our world and we never get into yours? If only I had the chance! It must be exciting to live on a thing like a ball. Have you ever been to the parts where people walk about upside-down?"
Edmund had been watching him with amusement in his face. He shook his head. "It isn't like that. There's nothing particularly exciting about a round world once you're there."
But Caspian couldn't believe this. He started to wonder exactly what it must be like to live in the world where they came from. Lucy said they were ordinary, but if that were so then everyone on the planet must be a great hero or scientist or adventurer. Perhaps when they went back years from now, he could ask Aslan to go with them. He would ask every night until then. After all, Aslan had made real the old tales of the Golden Age. Could he not bring Caspian to another world?
Caspian's mind was reeling. Perhaps this was just the first of many great adventures. Maybe he was meant to go on and on, ever seeking some new land, always on a quest. He envied his friends. They always had some higher purpose. Could he spend the rest of his days merely sitting in his throne at Cair Paravel? Where would be the excitement, the living in that?
There was not much talking now, not even from Eustace or from Reepicheep, and until they reached that last sea anyone on the Dawn Treader was sure to hear either or both of them talking at all times. Caspian spent most of his time in the company of Lucy and Edmund, and every morning he stood in the bows with Lucy and together they watched the sun rise. They always held hands.
Then one morning, just as the birds were streaming overhead singing their strange song, she turned away from the sun and looked at him. The thrill in her eyes echoed what he felt, and he realized all over again that if his life was to be full of quests, as he hoped, that he would always want Lucy by his side. No other queen would ride so willingly into the unknown. No other lady could understand him so wholly without speaking a single word.
That was the day that they spied the whiteness on the horizon. Nobody on board could imagine what it was, even as they approached. Drinian held back the ship with the oars and still they moved forward and no one could imagine what it might be. Finally when they were close to it, he pulled the ship broadside. They came out of the current then, and the Dawn Treader sat stiller than when she dropped anchor. They lowered the boat—Lucy scrambled into the stern—and Caspian could see that it didn't stop at the border of the whiteness but pushed through it. He could hear Lucy's voice carry across the water, and she spoke with a high note of surprise. When the boat returned after Rynelf took a sounding, the sailor stood up in the bows to announce "Lilies, your Majesty!"
Caspian was thrown. "What did you say?"
"Blooming lilies. Same as in a garden pool at home."
"Look!" Lucy cried. She held up her arms which were full of petals, and her smiling face above the flowers was a charming sight indeed.
They pulled up the boat, and while Rynelf was telling Drinian that the water was still deep, Caspian stepped forward to help Lucy out of the boat. She still had her arms full of lilies, and it was something of an awkward business, but Caspian managed by picking her up in his arms and setting her on the deck. "They smell so lovely," she said, and he bent to smell the flowers in her arms.
"The end of the world gets more and more marvelous with every passing day," he murmured, fingering one of the petals.
Soon the sight and the scent of the lilies was all around them. He felt that he had never seen something really white before those lilies, and he took deep draughts of the seawater and stared around at them for hours on end. The smell was even more fantastic. It was sweet but not overpowering, a fresh, wild smell. Caspian inhaled lungfuls of air laced with that scent and he couldn't decide how it made him feel. Reepicheep said it made him long to swing his sword in battle. Eustace said it made him want to run and run without stopping. Edmund said he wished there were music that could do what that scent did to him, that if could listen to that sound and smell that scent his heart might burst. Drinian said he wished he had a woman who he could take in his arms, and while Caspian could see what he meant, he thought it might be better to wait for one woman in particular. But Lucy only rushed forward and took Caspian's hands and said to him "I feel I can't stand much more of this, yet I don't want it to stop." The next day, he came up to her and put his hands on her shoulders and said the same, without realizing Lucy had said those words the day before. It seemed to be the only thing to say.
One night, underneath the excitement coursing through him, Caspian wondered how he could turn back and leave this sea. How could he turn away from all these miracles? Would anything smell sweet to him after these lilies? Would anything seem bright after that sun? Would anything taste quite like that water? He knew nothing would. The thought of going back to his regular life filled him with sadness and frustration. Cair Paravel seemed more like a prison than like home. This was where he was meant to be, in a place where just breathing was an adventure. And so he made a resolution. No one was with him at the time, and to him that was better because they would have held him back.
The next day the Dawn Treader nearly ran aground, and it became clear that they could sail no further east. Caspian saw that the moment had come to tell the ship's company what he had resolved in private the night before. "Lower the boat," he commanded, "then call the men aft. I must speak with them."
There was a lot of whispering and murmuring as everyone gathered on the poop. Caspian even heard Eustace say to Edmund "What's he going to do? There's a queer look in his eyes." Edmund reassured Eustace, and Caspian turned away from them. He would not let a moment of softness sway him. He had to remember his destiny.
He decided against standing on a bench and addressed the company from where he was. It was better if he didn't have to look at all of their faces. His mind was made up. "Friends," he began. "We have now fulfilled the quest on which you have embarked. The seven lords are all accounted for, and as Sir Reepicheep has sworn never to return, when you reach Ramandu's land you will doubtless find the Lords Revilian and Argoz and Mavramorn awake. To you, my Lord Drinian, I entrust the ship, bidding you sail to Narnia with all the speed you may, and above all not to land on the Island of Deathwater. And instruct my regent, the Dwarf Trumpkin, to give all these, my shipmates, the rewards I promised them. They have been earned well. And if I come not again it is my will that the Regent, and Master Cornelius, and Trufflehunter the Badger, and the Lord Drinian choose a King of Narnia with the consent—"
Here Drinian interrupted him. "But Sire, are you abdicating?"
Caspian was annoyed to be stopped in the middle of a speech, especially when he thought it sounded especially fine, regal, and definitive. He shot Drinian a cold look but said rather calmly, "I am going with Reepicheep to see the World's End."
The crew began to mutter in low, unhappy tones. Before any of them could speak their minds singly, Caspian raised his voice above them. "We will take the boat," he said in a clear and commanding voice. "You will have no need of it in these gentle seas and you must build a new one in Ramandu's island. And now—"
"Caspian, you can't do this." Edmund spoke in a voice more stern and masterful than his own.
Caspian was thrown for a second by King Edmund's command. He rather wanted to lash out at Edmund, draw his sword and fly at the king, for it seemed he was always getting in his way. This should be the last time. But he was stopped from violence by the memory of the Narnia he held dear, and before he could consider a way to counter Edmund with logic, Reepicheep piped up. "Most certainly his Majesty cannot."
"No indeed," Drinian agreed at once.
"Can't?" Caspian repeated sharply. How can they deny me my right as king? That is the beauty of being a ruler: when you make resolutions, no one stops you. If I say I am going to the end of the world, than I am going to the end of the world.
Now Rynelf rubbed salt in the wound. "Begging your Majesty's pardon," he said from the deck, "but if one of us did the same it would be called deserting."
"You presume too much on your long service, Rynelf," Caspian said, drawing himself up in all his royal fury.
Drinian came to his defense. "No, Sire! He's perfectly right."
What Caspian really felt like doing was bursting into tears of frustration. If I turn back, what am I going to? I have seen all those lands. There are no more frontiers, this is the last. Can I leave a stone unturned? I can't turn back from this undiscovered country. I can't. This thought steeled him, and he almost yelled when he spoke. "By the Mane of Aslan, I had thought you were all my subjects here, not my schoolmasters."
He thought certainly this would bring an end to the petty quibbling, and indeed the crew all looked at one another as if uncertain what to do. Then Edmund spoke in a voice that was calm as well as masterful. "I'm not," he said, "and I say you can not do this."
Caspian gave him the only retort he could think of. "Can't again? What do you mean?" He did not finish the thought out loud, but it was obvious to everyone that the conclusion was "I am king; I do as I please."
"If it please your Majesty, we mean shall not," Reepicheep said. "You are the King of Narnia. You break faith with all your subjects, and especially with Trumpkin, if you do not return. You shall not please yourself with adventures as if you were a private person. And if your Majesty will not hear reason, it will be the truest loyalty of everyone on board to follow me in disarming and binding you till you come to your senses."
"Quite right," Edmund agreed. "Like they did with Ulysses when he wanted to see the Sirens."
Caspian didn't understand about the Sirens, but he got the general idea. It was galling to hear Edmund, a king whose reign seemed nothing but a succession of adventures, who had left his whole world behind on a whim denying him alongside Reepicheep, who would get to see the end of the world. This was more than he could bear. He reached for his sword.
He had just closed his fingers around the hilt and was tensing his muscles to draw when Lucy spoke. "And you've almost promised Ramandu's daughter to go back."
He had a sudden image of the woman waiting on the shore, lonely and with no one to talk to, and his heart was moved to pity. And then there was Lucy. He had forced himself not to look at her this whole time, but he knew that he didn't want to leave her company. Not really. "Well, yes, there is that," he acknowledged. He looked ahead of him, where the last reaches of the world lay. Still, to know he might have gone on and didn't, and that someone did—well, that was more than he could bear.
"Well, have your way. The quest is ended. We all return. Get up the boat again."
He was about to stalk off when Reepicheep spoke. "Sire, we do not all return. I, as I explained before—"
"Silence!" Caspian thundered in a voice louder and crueler than he had ever used. "I've been lessoned but I'll not be baited. Will no one silence that mouse?"
"Your Majesty promised to be good lord to all the Talking Beasts in Narnia," Reepicheep protested.
Caspian had to blink away tears of fury before he could look at Reepicheep coldly enough to say, "Talking Beasts yes. I said nothing about beasts that never stop talking." He couldn't look at any of them anymore. He stalked through the crowd and flung himself down the ladder and slammed the door to the stern cabin below.
He sat at the table breathing hard. He was so angry he didn't know which way to turn, and he had half a mind to go back up on deck and challenge Edmund to a duel. He would get a great satisfaction from swinging his sword. How dare he pull rank? He's always doing that when he doesn't agree with me, and it's just not fair. Or right. How is that just?
"Do you think Edmund says these things to hurt you?" a voice spoke in the cabin, and it startled Caspian so much he nearly fell off his seat. He stared all around and saw that the gilded lion's head across from him had come to life.
"A-Aslan," Caspian stammered. He couldn't think of anything else to say.
"I asked you, Caspian, if you think that Edmund wishes to hurt you." Caspian noticed that he did not speak with his usual warmth or kindness, and his eyes were fierce and narrow and seemed to bore right into him.
"Well, sir, you see I don't think he understands…" he began, but trailed off. The Lion was staring at him so hard that he was forced to be truthful. "No, he doesn't mean to. But he does."
"And do you think that Edmund is wrong in saying you should go back?"
"Yes!" Caspian shouted at once. "What is so wrong about wanting to see the end of the world, wanting a glimpse of your country?"
"There is nothing wrong with wanting it. But doing so now, when you have not yet fulfilled all your other duties, is wrong." Aslan spoke very gravely, and Caspian felt as though a gavel had smacked down announcing his judgment.
"But I can't bear it. I can't stand the thought of turning back, of going back," he protested, tears beginning to well up in his eyes.
"You can, and you must. Many times we have purposes that are greater than ourselves and our own desires. There are tasks to be done and destinies to be fulfilled. Your task is to go back to Narnia and rule as king, for I do not mean the present prosperity to end with you. You are to begin a long line of kings who will protect and defend Narnia until its last hour."
Caspian sniffed and looked up at Aslan with a new hope in his eyes. Perhaps he hadn't been premature in asking Edmund about Lucy. Aslan must have seen this in his face for he said, "That is your destiny. Your friends are taking a different path."
"What do you mean, sir?" Caspian asked at once, his voice catching.
"Edmund and Lucy and Eustace are to return to their world. You will lower the boat and send them with Reepicheep, who will fulfill his quest to the World's End."
"When will they come back?" he asked. Even though he knew the answer as he spoke the question, he had to ask. Perhaps there was still hope.
But no. Aslan said simply "Lucy and Edmund will not come to Narnia again. Not as you know it."
Here Caspian really did burst into tears. "But Aslan! What am I to do? How am I to go on?"
"You must return to Narnia, and you must find a queen of this world. With her at your side you must govern Narnia with the grace and wisdom that life gives you. Do not weep so, for you will find happiness again." These were Aslan's parting words. The Lion's head grew still and spoke no more, and Caspian laid his head down on his arms and sobbed as though his heart was breaking.
After awhile he realized there was little good in crying, and he sat up and tried to compose himself. That left him feeling very blank inside.
At that moment, Lucy knocked gently at the door. "Caspian?" she said softly, easing her way in, "Are you alright?"
He turned to look at her. It seemed so unfair that she could flit into his life and float away, leaving him behind just when he wanted to hold onto her for a moment.
She saw something in his face and she rushed to put her arms around him and comfort him. "Oh, Caspian! What's happened?"
He gave himself up to her for a moment and buried his head in her arms. Her scent was like that of the lilies on the Silver Sea, a beautiful scent that made his heart ache. She stroked his hair and kissed the top of his head. "Whatever it is, Caspian, it will be alright," she murmured.
He heard Edmund and Eustace's footsteps, and he lifted his head. Lucy kept her hands on his shoulders for support. He looked round at all of them and realized he had to tell them. "It's no good," he said. "I might as well have behaved decently for all the good I did with my temper and swagger. Aslan has spoken to me." Edmund frowned perplexedly and Lucy's eyes brightened. "No—I don't mean he was actually here. He wouldn't fit into the cabin for one thing. But that gold lion's head on the wall came to life and spoke to me. It was terrible—his eyes. Not that he was at all rough with me—only a bit stern at first. But it was terrible all the same. And he said—he said—oh, I can't bear it." He didn't think he could tell them, but Lucy gripped his shoulder, and that gave him the courage to go on at least. "The worst thing he could have said. You're to go on—Reep and Edmund, and Lucy, and Eustace; and I'm to go back. Alone. And at once. And what is the good of anything?"
Lucy and Edmund and Eustace all went very white as well, and he could see the sadness in their eyes. That made him want to cry all over again, even though Lucy spoke in soothing tones. "Caspian, dear," said Lucy. "You knew we'd have to go back to our own world sooner or later."
"Yes," Caspian sobbed, "But this is sooner."
"You'll feel better when you get to Ramandu's Land," Lucy said. Caspian smiled, but he didn't really think she was right.
"I'd better go and make it up with Reepicheep," he said presently, and he rose. As he passed Edmund, the king clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a look that was all sympathy and sorrow. He nodded once and went to find Reepicheep.
The mouse was courtly as ever, and accepted Caspian's apology instantly. Though he tried to be grave for his king's sake, Caspian saw that he was fairly quivering with excitement on his renewed errand to the end of the world. "But Reep," Caspian said, "I shall miss you awfully."
"Miss me, but do not mourn me," Reepicheep said, "For whatever happens, I shall have followed my heart's desire, and that is no lamentable fate."
Caspian allowed his gaze to drift past Reepicheep to where Lucy was standing with her brother and Drinian. He tried to remember what Aslan had said about duty and destiny and not think about how much he wanted to follow his heart's desires, dreams which at any rate tore him in different directions.
He looked back to Reepicheep and forced a smile. "You will never be forgotten in Narnia. We will sing songs about the valiant mouse who sailed to the World's End forever."
"Sire," said Reepicheep with a bow, "I count myself honored to have served you in the time I spent in Narnia. I do not think I would consider myself more blessed if I had lived under the reign of the High King himself."
Caspian was so touched he could think of nothing else to say. He could only clasp Reepicheep in what he hoped was a kingly hug.
Now the boat was ready, and Drinian was placing Reepicheep's coracle in the stern while Rynelf was making sure that she was as full as she could carry with food and water. Caspian turned to Eustace and Edmund and Lucy, who were assembled in front of him. There were already tears on Lucy's cheeks. "I would say goodbye to each of you alone," Caspian said, his voice catching.
He walked with Eustace first. They made their way to the forecastle, where Caspian rested his hand on the carved dragon's neck and said with a lopsided grin, "I find it interesting that this ship is carved into the likeness of a dragon."
Both he and Eustace burst out laughing. "That's true!" Eustace cried, and Caspian remarked how much Eustace had changed since he first pulled him out of the water. That boy had been sniveling and insufferable, but the Eustace who stood before him had cheeks which were pink from laughter and bright eyes. He was practical to the last, but in the end that's what Caspian liked about him.
"It's a shame," Eustace said, "to have to go home just when I was growing to like it here so much."
Caspian remembered something which cheered him up a little bit. "Who knows. Edmund and Lucy have returned—perhaps you shall as well. You've got to, because you owe me a sword. And when you do, I will feast you in all honor and state at Cair Paravel. You haven't seen it yet, and it's a magnificent place."
Eustace smiled. "I would be honored, Caspian."
Edmund walked up to join them. "I think Reepicheep has something he wants to say to you, Eustace. Even though we're all going on the boat, he seems to think there won't be much talking." He looked out over the silent Silver Sea. "I rather think he's right."
Caspian clapped Eustace on the back, and he ran aft to find Reepicheep. Edmund and Caspian were now left facing each other. Edmund looked down and screwed up his mouth uncertainly. "I'm sorry for before," he finally said.
"No, I'm sorry," Caspian answered. "I ought to thank you, Edmund. You never let me have my way just because I was king, and—well, there were quite a few times when I needed that. More than I'd like to admit."
"Well, I know better than anyone that fulfilling one's own selfish desires is no way to be a king," Edmund said, looking past Caspian. He shifted his gaze to look in Caspian's eyes and added, "Listen. There's something you should know, about what I did the first time I was here…"
"It doesn't matter," Caspian said at once. "That is in the past. Edmund, I want to thank you—for everything. For helping me defeat Miraz and for stopping me from making some horrible mistakes and for bringing back a Narnia that I thought was long dead—for all of it."
Again Caspian didn't know what he had said that had some added significance, but Edmund's eyes shone and he clasped Caspian's arm and pulled him into an embrace. "I would have been fortunate to call you brother," Edmund said in a grave but sincere voice. He looked over his shoulder to where Lucy was standing. "I'll let you say goodbye to her."
Edmund walked over and spoke to her. Then she was before him, and Caspian didn't know what to say. "Oh, Caspian," she said, taking his hands.
She didn't say anymore—it didn't seem that she could—but she didn't need to. Caspian understood everything that was written in her face, because he felt it too. In one swift movement he pulled her into an embrace. She held on to him tightly.
There were a thousand things he could have said, but he said nothing. He knew he didn't need to. Only when he pulled away he saw that she was crying too, and he wiped her tears away gently. Then he bent and kissed her once, softly, on the forehead.
She looked up at him and her eyes were very blue. Then she stood on tiptoe and reached up and kissed him on the lips. It was a kiss of all innocence and chastity, and Caspian often thought afterwards that it was one of the most beautiful moments of his life. He could feel her scent that was laced with lilies envelop him and her soft hair tickled his cheeks. The touch of her lips on his was very gentle and very pure and very warm. But beyond that there was something in her face which made him think that one day she would love him, that maybe she did a little already. He couldn't say what it was, but he knew for sure.
He walked her to the boat. She held his hand. The crew was assembled around them. There was one last round of embraces, and Caspian found himself wishing that they were dripping wet on the deck and ten days out from the Lone Islands all over again. Then before he was quite ready to let them go, they climbed into the boat, Reepicheep sitting proudly in the stern beside his coracle. Drinian and Rhince lowered the boat themselves. Lucy looked straight into Caspian's face and called her goodbyes all the way until the boat rested on the lilies.
"Shields and flags out!" cried Drinian, and the Dawn Treader was draped in all her finery to honor the King and Queen, and their noble kinsman, and the Lord Reepicheep, bravest of all Talking Mice in Narnia.
The boat was instantly pulled away by the current, and Caspian hung over the side watching them glide among the lilies. His eyes were still strong and he could see Reepicheep's fur so dark against the while lilies and the sun reflecting on Lucy's hair for some time. She raised her hand one last time in farewell, and he returned the salute.
Just then the Dawn Treader began to turn, and for the first time in many months, her prow pointed west. Some of the sailors gave a cheer.
But Caspian rushed to the stern and watched the boat sail away east until it melted into the horizon. All the while the tears streamed down his cheeks.
A/N: sniff I got all teary eyed while I wrote this. Hopefully it moves you a little too. Still, it's hard to write on that line between poignant and melodramatic, and I hope I've walked it okay (let me know if I haven't).
Incidentally, in case you didn't already know, huge chunks of dialogue in both this and the preceding chapter were taken right from the pages of the Voyage of the Dawn Treader, specifically the last couple of chapters.
