Chapter Twenty-Four: Frank

Rhye flew faster, excited at my awed gasp. She banked her huge wings and circled the hill. It was beautiful and reminded me wholly of Narnia at high summer.

"Can you fly over it?" I asked, catching flashes of color and water beyond the wall.

She laughed. "It would take a lifetime, King Peter! Best to fly around in a few moments time!"

I didn't understand yet, but I didn't argue. Some things you simply had to accept in this world. After a quick circuit around the hill Rhye came to a delicate, trotting landing in the deep grass almost at the top. I slid off her back, staggering slightly. I was certainly not used to flying, though I had enjoyed it thoroughly. I started to walk up the steep slope, then I realized I did so alone. I turned back to the Winged Horse as she fussed over her feathers.

"Rhye? Are you coming?"

She seemed surprised and stopped preening. "It is not for me, King Peter," said Rhye. "You are the one blessed by Aslan, not I."

"Yes," I agreed, "he sent you to me."

"Get thee on." She playfully nudged me forward with her nose. I gave her a final pat and labored up the hill the last few yards, my lungs aching for oxygen and legs burning with the effort. When I reached the green wall of the garden I suddenly understood Rhye's reluctance to join me. It struck me that this Garden was not just for anyone to enter, lovely as it was. One needed an invitation.

I looked behind me. The Garden was so high it seemed as if the whole world stretched out before me. Steep snowy mountains and low green valleys with the silvery ribbon of the river winding its lazy way through the passes. The whole world might be mine, so high and alone I stood, but I didn't want anything beyond my own home and to free Edmund. I searched the horizon for any sign of Narnia or the Eastern Sea. The sun was too brilliant for my eyes and we were too far away, and so I turned back. Beyond the gates I could see a garden more glorious than could be imagined or described. There was a gold plaque of sorts on the gates that contained the lock. On it, written in flowing silver letters, I read:

Come in by the gold gates or not at all,
Take of my fruit for others or forbear,
For those who steal or those who climb my wall
Shall find their heart's desire and find despair.

The final word made me think of Aslan, and so it was with a smile on my lips and gladness in my heart that I reached for the gates. I knew, thanks to the Lion, that for the rest of my life I would always feel at peace in place of despair, because I would always remember Him and Edmund and how much they loved me.

The gates opened before I could touch them and I stepped into the Garden.

The first thing I noticed besides the silence was the air. It was the same as the air in Narnia, sweet and invigorating and clear, with the scent of balsam and lavender. I breathed deeply for a few moments, my eyes closed as I let the air fill and fulfill me. I was still exhausted, but I could feel the air working upon me and with a final inhalation I opened my eyes and was able to stand straighter, my back less painful. I looked about the garden. It was very beautiful, with a white marble fountain splashing quietly and trimmed hedges and vibrant flowerbeds of all colors laid out on lawns and paths. It was like looking at an array of fabulous jewels. The sun was warm in here, like the morning of a hot day in summer, and I reveled in the reprieve from the constant cold of autumn in the world beyond.

In the center of the paths and beds stood a tree unlike any I had ever seen before. It was an apple tree, not so very tall but the thick trunk was straight and unbranched like an oak or maple, with smooth gray bark and the leaves were a beautiful silver-green and cadet blue. Round, silver apples peeked out between the leaves and they seemed to cast a light all their own. I spotted a gorgeously colored bird, bigger than an Eagle, perched in the Tree. Through heavy-lidded eyes it watched me closely, blazing bright against a shining background. It was a truly beautiful sight and I knew I had reached my destination.

To my complete surprise, a man stood beneath the Tree.

He was plainly dressed in clothes and boots not unlike my own in style. He wore no cap and his gray hair was thin. A little stout, he looked kindly and jolly and wise all at once with a handsome, weathered face. He was strolling slowly through the Garden, admiring the Tree as if he could never grow tired of its loveliness. I stared at him. He was Human.

He caught sight of me at the same time and stopped in equal astonishment. Eyes as blue as the sky blinked once, twice, and then he broke into a broad smile. The silence was shattered with his first word.

"Hullo," he said, and I was taken aback to recognize a broad country accent. "What have we here, lad? Be welcome! In Aslan's name, be welcome!"

I let my breath out in a gasp, so relieved to hear that name that I wanted to cry and laugh and sing and break down all at once. The man stepped forward and put his hands on my shoulders, looking at me intently. He seemed to be searching my face for something. I wanted to speak, but I was too overwhelmed and weary to trust my voice. After a moment the man smiled gently, seeming to have found what he was looking for in my expression and recognized my dilemma. He drew me towards the base of the Tree where stood a small bench. He made me sit down and left me for a moment, returning with a goblet of wine that he pressed on me. I drank, and then the tears did come as I recognized the taste of sweet spring wine such as the Fauns had brought to the anniversary celebration. I choked down a mouthful.

"There's a lad," said the man, sitting beside me patiently. "Rest a bit."

"Thank you, sir," I finally whispered several minutes later.

He touched my shoulder. "Feeling better?"

"Much better," I said, though I knew between the tears, my untrimmed hair and filthy clothes, I must have looked a sight. The only thing about me that was clean was Rhindon. Small wonder Pennon thought so little of me. If asked at that moment, the very last word I would have chosen to describe myself would have been 'Magnificent.' The man was kind enough to overlook my shortcomings and indeed, I was very conscious of his noble manners and bearing. And, oh, he had spoken Aslan's name with such joy that his voice was like music. "Thank you. Are you the gardener, sir?"

He chuckled. "I can only wish I were, though I was a farmer and a good 'un. Wouldn't it be grand to have a hand in something as splendid as all this? But," and he shrugged, "I just get to enjoy it now, watching and waiting for the time to come." He cocked his head, looking at me. "You've an air of nobility about ye. What say you?"

I drew a deep breath and answered plainly, "I am a king of Narnia."

The blue eyes grew wide with what I could only say was awe, and for a moment his mouth hung open.

"'A king'?" he finally echoed, recovering. "Don't you mean 'the king of Narnia'?"

"No, sir," I replied. "There are four of us. Aslan crowned me, my brother, and my two sisters as sovereigns and we sit on the Four Thrones of Cair Paravel. I'm Peter Pevensie, the High King."

He shook his head in amazement. "Oh, that I have seen this day! Jadis?"

I blinked, shocked that he should know of the White Witch. "She was overthrown and Aslan destroyed her."

"So the prophesy has been fulfilled." He sighed in relief, sagging back against the Tree's silvery trunk. He laid a hand on the bark as if to reassure himself. "Oh, Aslan, thank you!"

"You know of the White Witch?" I asked, just as surprised as he was.

"Not by that name, Peter, but I was there the day she arrived in Narnia. I'm Frank, the first king of Narnia." He smiled at my stunned expression, then drew me into a rough embrace, clapping me on the back. It felt wonderful to be thus held again even if the person holding me was supposed to have been dead almost a thousand years. The heavy slap on my back was proof enough that Frank was quite hale. "Praise Aslan! Narnia is free and I can see her High King is as fine and upright a young man as I could wish." He drew back, holding me at arm's length. He looked old and young at once, as full of joy and life as the Garden we sat in.

"How can you be here?" I asked.

"Actually, I was about to ask you that, for it's not your time to stay here yet, Peter. I can see you've traveled far and through many hardships and your path ahead is as difficult as the path behind. What is it that brings you through these gates? For entry into the place is not something to be taken lightly."

I drank another mouthful of wine. The cup never seemed to empty. "A little over a year ago Narnia's army fought and defeated the forces of the White Witch at Beruna. My younger brother, Edmund, stopped her from killing me by breaking her wand. It was her greatest weapon. She stabbed him through the middle with the remains, but my youngest sister has a cordial that heals all wounds and he was restored. A year to the day of the battle, and every night thereafter, the same stab wound appears and he has to be healed again. Aslan came and said Edmund was under an enchantment that could only be broken if the Tree of Protection was restored in Narnia."

"The Tree is gone?" Frank's expression had turned from sympathetic to horrified. "It was the only thing keeping Jadis out! The scent was hateful to her!"

"According to the histories I've learned, the Human bloodline thinned to nothing in Narnia until there was noone eligible to rule. When the last queen died, so did the Tree. Narnia was laid bare to her enemies and eventually the White Witch stepped in and caused a winter that lasted a century. Until we arrived."

He smiled faintly. "Where are you from?" he asked, and I knew he meant where in England.

"Finchley."

His eyes sparkled with merry delight. "And now you've been sent to fetch another apple."

"Yes, sir. Aslan said a new Tree would nullify the enchantment and free Edmund and protect Narnia again."

"It will. I would like to hear the whole of this tale, but I sense you need and wish to go. We'll meet again some day, Peter, and then I would like to hear your history in full. But you've been too long on this plane." He slapped my knee and stood up, drawing me with him. "Pluck your apple. Never mind the Phoenix, I've never seen him budge and I'm not exactly sure what he does all day."

I smiled faintly at his words, but still I nodded politely to the huge bird before I reached up and pulled one of the silvery apples from the Tree. The scent of it was sweet and put me in mind of something wonderful from my childhood that I couldn't quite place. My mother's perfume, perhaps? Fruit and flowers and summer and sweet wine on a hot night.

Frank looked at me seriously, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Hurry this back to Aslan by whatever means brought you here. Don't let anything tempt you to taste it, for the fruit of this Tree, taken without permission, is what made Jadis immortal and unable to bear the sight and breath of Aslan. The magic is too powerful for us mortals, and though it cannot help but work, for us it would mean corruption. I would hate for that to happen, High King Peter, for I do wish to hear your story."

I smiled up at him. I had no desire to eat the fruit. It was not mine. I only wanted to get home to Edmund and free him, finally, from Jadis's clutches. Besides, I had had quite enough of magic that couldn't help but work. "Nothing could tempt me away from Aslan, King Frank."

"I know," he said, then he kissed me on the head. "I see that in you. Go now, son, and save your brother. Aslan bless you on your journey."

I bowed deeply to him. "Thank you, Sir. I look forward to our reunion."

Then I walked out of the Garden, back to the cool mortal world where Rhye in all her golden beauty waited for me.