Chapter Twelve: The Western March

We traveled for six days at an easy pace, mostly for Phillip's sake so he didn't tire too quickly. Parties had gone on ahead and set up camps in stages along the route and our supplies were already waiting at Caldron Pool, the last camp before the Western March. Oreius stayed right beside me the entire time, detailing the supplies he'd assembled and issuing a seemingly endless list of instructions and suggestions for survival. I knew he hated to send me off alone, but if Aslan said this was the best and safest way for me to travel, he would accept it and do everything in his power to ensure that safety. One instruction stood out vividly because he repeated it most often: If it's edible, my king, eat it. I was at best a fair hunter, but I expected that hunger was an excellent teacher. He had shown me and Phillip many edible plants along the way and I suspected Phillip was given the additional job of making sure I ate. Oreius knew what kind of appetite I normally possessed and I think he feared I might starve to death if not fed constantly.

"Phillip, I order you now to tell King Peter when the least thing is wrong or hurting," Oreius said as we crossed the Dancing Lawn on the third morning. "You both need to be healthy and fit to make it back. If you are tired, say so. If you prefer the king to walk, say so. There are extra shoes and nails in your supplies. You can talk him through shoeing?"

And on and on and on until my brain was full of advice. It was almost worse than learning statecraft from an Elephant, which is what I would have been doing otherwise.

Each night, despite the comfort of my tent, I had a great deal of trouble sleeping. My sleep schedule had shifted slightly since the anniversary and now I was used to going to bed past midnight. I would linger awake, wondering if it was midnight and if Edmund was bleeding or healed or wanting me there with him. Truly I wanted to be with him through this. I tried not to miss them and Aslan, but it was useless. I had never been away from my siblings for long and Aslan...being around Aslan was to be absolutely content and secure. He was as much my definition of home as my brother and sisters.

Phillip did have a confession to make as we rode along. When I asked him about Jett and Marsk he admitted that he didn't mind Edmund riding any dumb horse he chose. Jett and Marsk were, in his opinion, the best of the horses available for Edmund's size even if Marsk was more steady and plodding than powerful and fast like Jett. He took issue with any Talking Horse trying to carry Edmund in his absence and he added that many of his peers were frankly jealous of the attention he received even though they weren't willing to sacrifice their equine dignity for it. I assured him Edmund had no intention of riding any other Talking Horse, which made him happy and guilty enough to add that he had asked the Dogs at the Cair to follow Marsk and Jett - but not Edmund - everywhere they went with a rider. I had a ridiculous image in my mind of Edmund going for a ride and a pack of jabbering, gossiping, barking, joshing, rumor-mongering Hounds of every description streaming behind him like a comet's tail, all the while assuring my brother it wasn't him they were tailing.

On the sixth evening we reached the small camp at Calrdon Pool. Up the steep, rocky hill that channeled the Great Waterfall was the Western Wild. This was the last night I would spend in Narnia, among people who knew and loved me. A year ago it had seemed so strange to stay in Narnia, and now it seemed impossible to leave. I wondered if the air and water would taste the same once I stepped past the border. It seemed as if it should, but I couldn't see how it could. Though all this world had been created by Aslan, Narnia was the seat of his power and love and grace.

And he had made me Narnia's High King. Even after a year it still amazed me. It seemed closer to a lifetime ago, so wonderful and full was every day here in Narnia.

Once again I laid awake far into the night, thinking of Edmund awaiting midnight and a fresh stab through his belly, Lucy and Susan and Aslan sitting with him. If it was horrible for us to anticipate each night, how terrifying was it for him? Knowing each night you will receive a mortal wound, unable to venture far, unable to sleep or rest or relax. My heart was racing just thinking about it. How long could he live under such horrible conditions? How long before the anxiety wore down his health and mind? How long before he finally stopped thinking he deserved to be punished for his betrayal? How long before he gave in to the pain? He had promised to wait, but how long could anyone endure that agony?

I sighed and turned over on the field cot, staring at the pile of supplies stacked in the corner of my tent. Normally I found the cots as comfortable as my bed, but tonight nothing seemed right. Finally I gave up and got dressed, stepping out into the moonlight.

"Majesty?"

I should have known Oreius would be awake. It was a beautiful night and Centaurs have a passion for stargazing. The stars and planets were low and bright despite the full moon. "I can't sleep, Oreius," I said. "Is it midnight?"

His voice betrayed his concern. "Almost, King Peter." He moved slowly as he came and stood so close beside me his foreleg brushed my leg, and he laid a hand upon my shoulder. "Your sisters and Aslan are with him."

I drew a deep breath, feeling hopelessly outmatched by the whole situation. "How can anyone be so cruel?"

"She enchanted him from the first, Sire, and laid down the foundation for this last act of vengeance. As you said, she is evil and we are not and her conduct is beyond our ken."

We stood together watching the sky as the minutes passed. Among the constillations I picked out the Panther and Culros, who according to legend was the unwilling consort of the Night and he had set her outline with the most brilliant stars as a token of his love. Oreius's hand tightened and I knew it was midnight. I was silent, closing my eyes, imagining Edmund's gasp. He hadn't screamed, not that first time at Beruna and not since. A quiet sound, the air driven from his lungs, shock and pain in his dark eyes and then...he fell.

I ran both hands through my hair, turning away from the image so abruptly that I bumped into Oreius's chest. I leaned against him. I needed someone stronger than me right now and I felt him hold me close to him. He understood. Thank Aslan for this Centaur, for he understood as one soldier understands another. It would be a long time, months, even, before I would have the chance to lean upon someone stronger than me and I felt no shame in depending on him at the moment. I brought my fist weakly down onto his breastplate, stricken at the injustice of Jadis's petty revenge. He held me gently until I drew away. His hand lingered on my shoulder and I covered it with my own to reassure him that I was well.

"My king, I beg you - let me accompany you on this quest," he said, not for the first time.

I shook my head, touched and reassured. He was frustrated about being unable to do more. "No, Oreius," I said. "Narnia has two kings but she has only one general. I'm leaving the safety and protection of the country to you. I spoke to my brother and sisters that last night at the Cair and they all agreed. Edmund and Lucy can't ride into battle now. If the need arises, Susan will accompany you in the field. She'll follow your orders and whatever plans you devise. I know you'll do whatever you think best to keep Narnia and her rulers safe. You have my complete trust and confidence, Oreius, and I give you absolute command of the army."

He stared at me with a hint of sadness in his eyes. He knew he couldn't go, but I knew he wanted nothing more than to protect me at every turn and I appreciated his devotion more than I could express.

"A small band of soldiers will be stationed here at all times until your return, King Peter," he promised, gazing at me intently. "You wish to leave now."

I sighed and nodded. "If Phillip is agreeable. I won't sleep tonight."

"I will see."

Half an hour later I was dressed in the padded leather jerkin and heavy boots he had insisted Silvo pack for me and Phillip was loaded with our supplies. I was carrying my heavy pack as I emerged from my tent. I saw the Centaur and Horse talking quietly together. Probably some last-minute advice, though I doubted I could jam one more bit of information into my head right now, at least not without pushing out something I already knew to make room.

"Remember Aslan's words and go with his blessing and mine, Peter," said Oreius, forgoing my title for the first time since I had met him. It was pleasant to hear. "Always be careful and remember your training."

"I will," I promised, hefting my pack from the ground beside Phillip. "Protect Narnia and all my family, General."

"I will, my king."

I touched the Horse's shoulder. "Let's go, Phillip."

And so we stole away into the night, guided by the river in the light of a full moon.