Author's note: I deeply apologize, as usual, for the lengthy time between updates. This time I really did have a good reason. Small comfort, I know. In any case, I've finished my first year of law school, and it left me with precious little time for writing. However, this time, dear readers, you shall have two chapters in the same week. I was trying to write this chapter, but realized I had best split it into two when it was approaching ten thousand words. As a result, the next chapter is already four thousand words strong and I should have it complete by the end of the week. Since they were originally meant to be one chapter, this one may not be as satisfying as I intended it to be. I hope you will find it diverting, at least, until I complete the rest of the next chapter.
I also apologize in advance for the wedding. I hope you find it to your liking. I have a very difficult time writing weddings (and really anything particularly romantic), so I hope I haven't done too terrible a job on it. Do let me know!
One last note: Special thanks to TrustingHim17 for the lovely encouragement and, as always, my dear friend Fierce Queen, for whom I've hidden a modified version of a particularly iconic Star Trek quote.
Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia (or the particularly iconic Star Trek quote), and no copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter the Twenty-Seventh: A Happy Ending
21 Mayblossom 2076
Almost three days had passed since Juliana departed Archenland, and as the last light of day bathed the towers of Anvard in warm golden light, party's horses climbed the path to the castle. A clarion's bright call rang from the battlements as the knights returned, and they found the members of the royal court assembled in the courtyard to greet them. Ayden drew his horse to a stop, holding up his hand to indicate for those who followed him to do the same. Galen dismounted as the Archenlanders did, puzzled at the formality of their return. The Narnian stood silently, though, beside Aiolos and Lyra as Ayden stepped forward and bowed.
"Your majesties, noble members of the court, I beg to report that sentence in the case of The Crown v. Lady Juliana Kellan has been carried out," the prince of Archenland declared, the seriousness in his voice resonating off the courtyard's stone. "Only one task now remains. If you please, my lord Kellan," Ayden turned to Juliana's father as the court looked on gravely.
The unhappy lord, who had traveled in the shadow of the company over the past week, now stepped forward.
"My king and queen," Lord Kellan pulled two documents, a leatherbound notebook, and a large key from his saddlebag. "I present to your majesties, in accordance with the laws of this land and the order of the High Court, the deed to the manor of Silvercreek along with the key to the manor house, the books of account, and the latest survey of its property." Juliana's father, to his credit, kept his countenance free of any malice, resigning himself to the duty that lay before him. Bowing deeply before the king and queen, he held the papers and key in his outstretched hand.
"Thank you, my lord," said the king, taking the items offered. "We hold the duty of your house fulfilled."
At the king's nod, Lord Kellan withdrew to join his wife and the two discreetly took their leave.
"Emeth Tarkaan and Niusha Feriha, if you would come forward," the queen spoke. Archenland's newest citizens approached and bowed. The king held the deed, map, notebook, and key out to them, and Emeth accepted them with a grateful smile.
"From this day forth, the manor Silvercreek and all properties pertaining thereto belong to you. I further declare that you shall henceforth be known as the Lord and Lady of Silvercreek, to take official effect on occasion of your wedding. We wish you every happiness."
Emeth and Niusha smiled joyfully, overwhelmed as all began to applaud, though none sooner or more loudly than Lyra, Galen, and the Archen knights.
22 Mayblossom 2076
The next morning dawned bright and warm, a fresh breeze bringing the aroma of green grass and spring wild flowers. Galen had spent the early morning with Aiolos, walking the Archen countryside and enjoying the brilliant morning beneath a canopy of rustling leaves and golden light. The Narnian was walking through a deserted throne room when he encountered Lyra and Niusha leaving the lower terrace. As the two drew near, they ceased their conversation and smiled warmly.
"Good morning, my ladies," Galen greeted them with a slight bow. "I trust nothing unpleasant troubles you on this bright morning?"
"None but the happy task of seeing that Archenland's newest lady has a suitable wardrobe before moving to her manor on the morrow," Lyra replied.
"A difficult task indeed!" Galen replied with a smile.
"Not really, my lord," Nuisha laughed shyly. "Princess Lyra set the seamstresses to work last week. All we needed to do today was to check the results!"
"Oh, ho! You forget the most important dress of all, my friend!" Lyra laughed. "And quite a morning we have had in the designing of it!"
Galen smiled quizzically, whereupon the Archen princess's eyes lit with even more laughter.
"She means the wedding dress, Sir Galen, and we were just on our way to select fabrics," Niusha could not help but laugh as well.
"Then I shall leave you to it, my ladies! I should not wish to get in the way."
"Enjoy your Sunday, Galen," Lyra laughed as he moved off.
The Narnian had a task of his own, and proceeded down the secondary corridor to one of the stairways that led down to the lower tunnels. Descending the stair, Galen found himself in a long corridor with an arched roof made of warm red stone. Wrought iron lanterns with thick, swirled glass hung from the arched roof at intervals of five feet. They cast a warm yellow light, and Galen followed the corridor until it ended in a cross-corridor and a series of stone steps. Galen followed the stairs down, and they led him to a strong iron gate. Two Archen soldiers stood guard at the gate, and upon his approach Galen presented a piece of parchment bearing the royal seal.
"The king has authorized access, if you please," Galen spoke.
"Very good, my lord, please proceed," the guard answered after inspecting the paper. The Narnian stepped past the soldiers and produced a heavy key with which he opened the equally heavy gate. Stepping inside, he turned the corner around the inner wall. The room was dark, but Galen could feel that it was a large room with a high ceiling. He took a torch from the bracket on the wall and lit it, and in its sudden light the Narnian could not help but gasp. He had known he was entering the treasure room of Anvard, but he was not prepared for the vastness of the room and the brilliant shine of the gold and silver, and the thousand colors of jewels that reflected the torch's light. The room was neatly organized, and Galen proceeded to a series of shelves lined with brilliant blue gemstones. He then took the familiar mahogany box from his bag and laid it on the shelf, opening the cover to reveal the Knife that still took his breath away no matter how many times he saw it. Turning to the task at hand, Galen looked carefully at the pear shaped sapphire in the Knife's hilt, and began to search the shelves for a match.
The evening had grown late when Galen emerged from the Anvard tunnels, the moon's waning light scattered by the stained glass windows. Anvard lay silent, and Galen was about to return to his room, but he paused and turned instead to the stables. The Narnian took a deep breath as he stepped into the cool night air and proceeded silently across the courtyard. The horses' gentle whinnies greeted him as he entered the stables, and he feared his friend would already be asleep. Galen's fear was unfounded, however, as he found his equine friend staring up at the stars through the broad open window at the back of his stall.
"I see they keep the shutters open for you, my friend," he spoke softly as he entered the Horse's stall.
Aiolos, who had heard Galen's approach, whinnied in manner resembling a contented sigh.
"Yes, indeed. I little think I could stand the stable if I had not the sight of the stars at night. How has your day fared?"
"It has fared well. The last task before I can depart Archenland is close to completion."
"Then you intend to go through with the princess's and your plan?"
"Yes. It is a good plan, and I think it will succeed. I even dare to say I may enjoy it a bit."
At this the Horse chuckled. "Take care, my friend. You may find the whole of Archenland calling for your head."
Galen chuckled as well. "Likely so. But it shall be worth it, even if only to see the look on Lord Trelain's face!"
The Horse joined his laughter, but soon the young knight's face became more serious once more.
"One more journey, Aiolos," Galen spoke in a grave voice, equally evoking both anticipation and dread.
"Aye, my lad. Just the one."
23 Mayblossom 2076
The morning's light found a happy group of horsemen riding at a comfortable pace beneath the gold and green leaves of Archenland's central forest. Ayden led the way down the well-worn road, smiling as his sister laughed behind him. Lyra, Galen, Emeth, and Niusha followed two abreast, and a ways behind them came a wagon loaded down with trunks, crates, and bolts of fabric. The party had departed from Anvard early, and both Narnians found themselves enjoying the easy road and warm company. The day grew warm, but a cool breeze kept the forest's leaves rustling and the party's spirits high. Emeth was intrigued at the manner in which the Archen royals and Narnian knight traveled. While Emeth was accustomed to the pompous attire and stiff arrogance of a Calormene traveling party, Archenland's crown prince wore a simple woven shirt and leather jerkin, and were it not for his skillful horsemanship and the nonchalant habit of resting his hand on his sword-hilt, Emeth would not have known him to be Archenland's next ruler. His sister, likewise, did not bear the jewels and silks of a tarkheena, nor did she sit her horse lazily as a tarkheena would. Rather, Lyra wore a soft slate blue linen riding dress of her own design that fell to the ground behind her but only to her knees in front to accommodate her practical trousers and boots and permit her the range of motion proper riding requires. She guided her horse with confidence, a radiant smile upon her face as she laughed at a companion's rejoinder, and Emeth marveled at her carefree grace. Even Galen, a knight of high destiny (as many a courtier was quick to tell him), wore a plain tabard and carried himself with a humble sort of dignity.
"What burdens your thoughts, my love?" Niusha's voice interrupted Emeth's reverie, and the young man smiled.
"Nothing troubles me, dearest. Nothing at all," he replied, taking a deep breath and looking up to the translucent green leaves above him.
Several hours after their departure from Anvard, the forest gave way to rolling green pasture and farmland. As they crested a small hill, Ayden pulled his horse to a halt and the others followed suit.
"Welcome home, my friends," the Archen prince smiled at Niusha and Emeth, directing their elated gaze to the land below. Rows of lush vineyards spread before them, in the distance climbing the soft green slopes of a small hill where a breezy, inviting stone mansion kept watch amongst the trees.
"Surely that beautiful home cannot be ours!" Niusha breathed in awe.
"Indeed it is, my friends!" Lyra smiled in return. "Three hundred acres of Archenland's best wine country."
"I have no words to say!" Emeth answered, raising his hand quickly to brush away tears of joy.
"Then have a closer look!" Lyra smiled broadly and lead the way down the grapevine-lined road to the base of the hill ahead. Two small, charming stone towers stood on either side of the road, and the grey stone arch that connected them supported a polished wooden sign that bore the words Silvercreek Winery in flowing silver script. Galen looked at the quaint little entrance with a smile as he passed under it, and the horses began to climb a moderate slope as the road wound around the hill. Grapevines lined the terraced sides of the hill, but graceful shade trees replaced them as the road approached the summit. The road soon leveled off and curved around the northern edge of the hill in a smooth semicircle. Flowers lined the fine gravel road, and the group drew their horses to a stop in front of the broad, pillared stairs of the Silvercreek manor entrance. As they dismounted, a young man smartly dressed in a dark red coat, polished black boots, and soft deer skin breeches approached them from the side of the house.
"Your highnesses, my lords and lady," the man bowed, "I am Brian, the head groom of Silvercreek manor, and it is my pleasure to welcome you."
"A pleasure, good sir," Ayden replied. "May I present Lord Emeth and Lady Niusha, your new employers," the prince motioned to the former Calormenes, who stepped forward and bowed.
"My lord and lady," the groom bowed again. "The steward has assembled the servants for your inspection, and if you will permit me, I will have the horses stabled for you. Your bags will, of course, be taken to your rooms"
"Thank you very much, sir," Niusha answered with a smile, and the groom beckoned to two waiting stable-hands to help him lead the horses to the stable around the bend.
"I'd much rather stay outside and take a look around, if you please," Aiolos spoke as a stable hand approached him. The poor boy nearly jumped out of his skin, and Galen could not help but chuckle a little.
"I see you have met my good countryman Aiolos of the Shuddering Wood," Galen hung back from the group and turned to speak to the stable hand. "If you would be so kind as to prepare a room in the stable for him, he will find his way at his convenience."
The stable hand, for his part, nodded with wide eyes and hurried to care for the other horses. While Aiolos nosed around the flower garden and walked the road to discover the best view (and best tasting grasses), Galen rejoined his friends as they approached the heavy mahogany door on the small, columned portico. Emeth produced the key and unlocked the door, pushing it open carefully. He and Niusha stepped inside, and could not help but gasp in amazement. The front door opened into an airy anteroom, filled with sunlight from the wide windows that lined its front wall. Cream colored sheer curtains fluttered in the breeze, their rich red damask drapes pulled back with pearl-white cords. Dark polished wood lined the floors, and a richly upholstered tea table with matching chairs sat in the corner. A wide marble staircase curved up to the balcony of the second floor, and a crystal chandelier sparkled above. Beyond the staircase, they could see the down a corridor to glimpse the green of a lawn through the back windows.
"Welcome home, my lord and lady," greeted an older gentleman in a fine black tunic and crisp white linen shirt. "Your highnesses," he bowed to Ayden and Lyra. "I hope your journey was pleasant."
"Indeed it was, good sir," Lyra responded, happily noticing the reactions of the manor's new owners.
"My name is Grimsby, and I am the steward of Silvercreek manor. Before I show you the house, a luncheon has been prepared on the lawn to provide some refreshment after your long journey."
At the party's enthusiastic thanks, Grimsby lead them through the corridor to the sparkling french doors that opened from the comfortable back sitting room to the back portico. From the portico, a smooth green lawn spread before them, ringed with flowers and green-clothed beech and mulberry trees. A circular table with a clean white cloth was set up beneath a large oak tree that spread its leaves beside the northwestern corner of the portico, and the group enjoyed a cheerful repast in the tree's cool shade.
After they had finished, the butler introduced Niusha and Emeth to Silvercreek's staff of servants (whose employment, the two assured them, was not at all in danger from the change of ownership) and provided all five friends a tour of the manor. It was not a terribly large manor (as far as manors went), but its stately stone walls and bright windows were comfortable and inviting. The manor had three stories, but its third story was well camouflaged in the house's architecture so that the building appeared to have only two stories.* The first floor contained the anteroom, sitting room, master bedroom, dining room, and kitchen, while the second contained several guest rooms and the third contained servants' quarters. The dining room and kitchen shared the south wing of the house, while the master bedroom and sitting room spanned the north. Galen found he liked the kitchen best, with its airy, window-filled walls and clean copper pans hung neatly from the ceiling. The furnishings of the house, they found, were of a far more gaudy taste than either Emeth or Niusha cared for, so that afternoon Lyra, Niusha, and the Silvercreek staff set to putting the house to rights. Galen, Ayden, and Emeth soon found that they rather hindered the girls' efforts, and so retreated promptly to the safety of the grounds. Ayden and Emeth spent the afternoon reviewing the vineyards and winery down the hill, while Galen found a shady spot among the breezy mulberry trees to read a book of Narnian poetry he had brought with him. Aiolos, for his part, saw to it the lawn was properly trimmed, and discovered happily that he rather preferred the Silvercreek variety of lawn-grass to other Archen grasses. The afternoon passed blithely in this way, and by the time the friends rejoined for dinner, the manor was well on the way to feeling like Emeth and Niusha's home.
"What do you think of your new home, Niusha?" Lyra asked with a smile as they sipped tea on the back portico that evening. The stars shone brightly in the silky black expanse of sky above the mulberry leaves. The mountains glimmered in the distance, and the muted sound of the Silvercreek River's falls a few miles away permeated the air.
"It is more beautiful than I could ever have dreamed! I am happy beyond words," the once-Calormene girl replied, her brown eyes a-twinkle.
"And the vineyards and winery are in such good repair that it shall be a pleasure for us to run them!" Emeth exclaimed. "I cannot wait to learn the art myself!"
"I'm afraid that might be a lengthy endeavor, my friend," Ayden smiled.
"So much the better! If it takes my entire life I shall be the happiest man in the world!" Emeth's eyes glowed in eager anticipation.
"I'm afraid the wedding preparations will not wait so long!" Lyra laughed. "The next few days will fly by, I fear!"
The friends laughed merrily, and found their way to their rooms before the night waxed too late. The next few days would, as Lyra predicted, prove busy ones.
24 Mayblossom 2076, Midnight.
The busy servants had long since retired for the night, and the soon-to-be lord and lady of the manor had also long since tumbled into their respective beds after an entirely happy day's work putting their new home to rights. Yet, despite the weariness of the day, the princess of Archenland found she could not sleep. She found herself leaning upon the window sill, breathing deeply as the cool wind blew through her hair. Her bedroom overlooked the manor's rose garden at the southern corner of the house, and she saw a figure pacing anxiously below. Concerned, Lyra left the window and silently left her room, hastening down the carpeted stairs. Her satin slippers padded across the kitchen floor, and she quietly slipped through the side door. The rose garden was awash in milky moonlight, bathing the Archen princess's long white nightgown in a pale luminescence as she approached the figure in the garden.
"Brother, what troubles thee?" She spoke softly, pulling her blue silken shawl around her shoulders to ward off the night's chill. At her voice, the pacing figure started, and the Archen prince turned to face his sister.
"Lyra! You startled me. What keeps thee awake at such an hour, sister?"
"Have we become strangers that you will not confide in me, Ayden?" Lyra replied in a soft voice, but her pointed words cut through her brother's defenses like a knife. He sighed deeply.
"Forgive me, Lyra. It was foolish of me to try to conceal anything from you," the Archen prince sat down on a nearby stone bench. His sister sat beside him, her blue eyes patiently meeting his. "I am afraid, Lyra. Deeply afraid," Ayden's eyes dropped to the ground.
"Afraid of what, brother?" Lyra gently took his hand in hers. He raised his eyes to meet her gaze, and she could see unshed tears pooling in his green eyes.
"Afraid of losing you, little sister," the Archen prince's voice caught as he spoke and he embraced his sister tightly. "How can I stay here alone and let you brave the peril of the Eastern seas, leave you alone against some unknown enemy?" His voice was heavy with the weight of captive tears, and one escaped and rolled down the young man's cheek to dampen the shoulder of his sister's gown. "Surely Aslan did not mean you to face this danger alone! I cannot bear the thought of never seeing thee again!"
Lyra said nothing, returning his embrace in comforting silence. As she laid her head on her brother's shoulder, she could feel the tremble of his hand and the racing pace of his heart.
"I cannot remember a time when you were not by my side, brother, nor should I wish to," she finally spoke. "But you have duties here too. I do not know whether Aslan means me to face the challenge alone or not. But I do not think so."
"I feel I must go with you, sister. I failed to protect you once before, and I will not let it happen again," Ayden's face hardened as he recalled the incident in Calormen.
"You take far too great a burden upon yourself, brother," Lyra chuckled, but her tone became serious after a moment's pause. "I worry, though, what would happen to Archenland if neither of us was to return. What of mother and father? Who would lead Archenland when they have gone to Aslan's Country?"
Ayden sighed. "I have tried to push such concerns from my own mind, but even without your counsel I cannot do so."
For several moments, the two sat in silence, letting the wind waft the roses' perfume through the evening air. The brother and sister looked at the moon in thoughtful silence, and miles away Galen also looked pensively at the moon's light. The Narnian and his Horse had slipped away from Silvercreek after the sun set that evening and galloped south through the hills. Now, several hours later, the two crested a ridge and Galen looked down on the little village spread below. He pulled his cloak closer around him and they continued down the road, but before the two reached the village, Aiolos turned to skirt its edge within the protection of the trees. Presently, a small house with daffodils in the window boxes came into view from behind the trees. Aiolos came to a stop a few feet from the back door and Galen dismounted, his hand still resting on his friend's mane. Just as Galen dismounted, a man stepped outside with a bucket in his hands. His eyes widened as he saw the unexpected visitors, and he inadvertently took a step back towards the door he just closed.
"Who are you? What business have you here?" He challenged gruffly.
"Please forgive our intrusion, Jonas," Galen quickly responded. "It is Aiolos and Galen of Narnia, and I would not have disturbed you at such a late hour unless it was an important matter."
At this the Archenlander relaxed, and stepped forward, smiling, to greet them. "Why, Sir Galen! I certainly did not expect to find you here. Tira has already gone to bed, but I can put a cup of tea on if you would care to come in."
"Not tonight, thank you, good sir. I was wondering if I might speak to you somewhere more private."
"I suppose we can step to the smithy for a moment," Jonas held his hand out towards the structure that stood a few yards away. Galen nodded and the two Narnians followed him there. The two entered the rough wooden building, stepping down several stone steps to the packed dirt floor. The large workshop was dark but for the dark red glow of dying coals that shone upon the nearby anvil.
"What can I do for you, friends?" Jonas asked once he had shut the smithy door behind them and lit a lantern.
"Before I continue, I must have your solemn word that you will not speak to anyone of this, not even your wife," Galen responded.
"You have my word," the Archen blacksmith answered, puzzlement in his eyes.
"Thank you. I have come to ask a great favor of you," Galen began, placing a satchel on the wooden table and removing a single piece of paper that bore an intricate charcoal drawing. "I need a duplicate, and I can trust no one else."
"But how can I duplicate this? Do you know what this is?!"
"Indeed I do," Galen replied gravely. "The satchel should contain all the materials you require and payment for the work. I cannot tell you my purpose, but I can tell you that it is of the very greatest importance and has the king's blessing. It is no exaggeration to say that my mission is necessary to protect Archenland itself, and you are one of the few people I know that I can trust to do this task."
Jonas looked down at the drawing momentarily before nodding his head in agreement. "Very well. I can have it done by the end of the week."
"Thank you so very much, good sir!" Galen shook his hand earnestly. "Aslan watch over you and your family." The Narnian turned and slipped out the door to rejoin Aiolos.
"Will he do it?" The Horse asked.
"Aye, my friend. Aslan keeps our way yet." Pulling his hood up around his head once more, Galen remounted and Aiolos moved swiftly towards the north and Silvercreek manor.
The next three days passed in a whirlwind of wedding preparations, each new day bringing new deliveries from Anvard's craftsmen. By the end of the twenty-fourth, the boughs of the mulberry trees were decked with delicate silver lanterns, and the first floor of Silvercreek manor no longer bore the heavy style of Lady Juliana's mother. Instead, it was simply and tastefully furnished with the aid of several of Anvard's seamstresses and furniture-wrights. The twenty-fifth saw the second floor well on its way to proper furnishing, and the twenty-sixth saw the completion of Niusha's wedding dress and the delivery of an enormous amount of flowers, a gift of the king and queen. The past several days, Galen had found himself with little to do, and so took to riding the Archen countryside with his dear Narnian friend. These last few days on land with Aiolos were precious to him, and the two passed many a happy hour beneath the green Archen trees with his friend and his flute. Today, though, was a different kind of day. Almost the entire royal court was due to arrive for the wedding celebration, and the servants ran frenetically to and fro preparing rooms, food, and decorations for the ceremony that evening. Thankfully, several of Parliament's lords also had manors within a reasonable distance and made them available, so the only overnight guests Silvercreek needed to accommodate consisted of the king, queen, and the prime minister's family.**
The king, queen, and prime minister arrived around mid-day, and Ayden and Lyra greeted their parents warmly. After a late lunch, however, everyone but the king and queen retired to their rooms. Lyra took the bride-to-be in tow, while Emeth found himself nervously pacing the floor of his room. Ayden served to welcome the wedding guests as they arrived, but the king and queen strolled the grounds leisurely, enjoying a moment's peace away from Anvard's hectic pace. Their son and the wise staff of Silvercreek ensured the arriving guests did not disturb the monarchs as they walked among the roses.
Galen, for his part, wisely kept out of the fray in the solitude of his room. The Narnian perched on the window seat, the wind tossing his light hair as he wrote upon a piece of parchment with a furrowed brow. So deep in thought was he that the noise of arriving carriages did not reach his ears. Averting his gaze thoughtfully to the hills on the horizon, Galen sighed softly before resigning himself to dressing for the evening rather than to conquering his troublesome letter.
As the sun set beyond the hills, casting a last golden gleam on the manor's windows, servants lit the silver lanterns in the mulberry trees, washing the lawn in soft, ethereal light. Tall, thin pots filled with roses ringed the lawn, and silk-draped benches were lined in neat rows in front of the flower-draped back portico. An arbor stood at the other end of the lawn, festooned in deep red roses and light white silks, a silver lantern hanging from its highest point. Just as the sun's last light disappeared behind the horizon and the stars began to shine their happy silver light above the lawn, the wedding guests began to take their seats. The king and queen sat at the front, the queen's midnight purple gown reflecting the starlight in its silken sheen. Parliament's chaplain stood beneath the arbor, an elderly man with kind hazel eyes that smiled at everyone. As soon as each guest had taken a seat, Emeth, followed by Ayden and Galen, stepped onto the portico and made their way to the arbor. Emeth wore dark boots and breeches with a brilliant white tunic trimmed in gold. The young man's heart trembled within him, understandably uncomfortable at the sea of strange noblemen filling the seats at his wedding. Yet, as he reached the front he saw the friendly faces of familiar Archen knights in the closest rows. Glyn smiled encouragingly, while broad-shouldered Ewan offered a cheerful wink. Ayden and Galen, dressed in tunics of deep red velvet with gold trimming, took their places beside him. At Ayden's nod, Galen raised the flute he carried to his lips, and began to play. The clear, enchanting tone of the Narnian flute filled the air and those within hearing could not help but pause breathlessly to catch each beautiful note. Most of the Archenlanders had never heard the song, for it was an old Narnian air composed long before the Golden Age. A young prince had written it in his beloved's honor, and throughout the centuries, it had endured as Narnia's greatest love song. Presently, the french doors at the back of the manor opened, and those assembled stood. Niusha stepped down the portico stairs, smiling radiantly in the lantern light. Her dress was made of a simple white silk in the Archen fashion, its wide sleeves fluttering airily in the soft breeze, and its gold embroidered trim shining in the starlight. Her dark hair tumbled around her shoulders, and she held red roses in her hands. Niusha did not notice the gaze of the lords and ladies of parliament— she had only eyes for the dark-haired young man beneath the arbor. Lyra followed the Lady of Silvercreek as her maid of honor, wearing a dress of deep red velvet with its wide sleeves trimmed in gold. Though she too did not care for the attendance of parliament, it had been impossible to shun them after the great wave of support they had shown to Niusha and Emeth in the days after Juliana's trial, and Lyra now focused on the soft lantern light and the hauntingly beautiful Narnian song that seemed to float above the trees. As Galen concluded the air with a last, lingering note, Niusha and Lyra reached the arbor and took their appropriate places. Smiling at her husband-to-be, Niusha took Emeth's hand in hers. Niusha was enjoying every moment of her Archen wedding, so very different from the Calormene one she had dreaded, and in customary Archen fashion, the chaplain smiled and blessed the couple in Aslan's name before allowing the bride and groom to exchange their own vows.
"My dearest Niusha," Emeth began with a trembling voice. "I never dreamt that this day would come, and it is more than I ever dared to dream." The young man's voice steadied, the attending audience melted away, and he began to speak in earnest the love Calormen had locked away so deep in his heart. "You are my light and my joy, and were I the greatest warrior, the most virtuous saint, or wealthiest tarkaan in the world I could not deserve you. But I promise you this day that my heart and everything I am belongs to you, and I will spend every breath until my last by your side." Emeth slipped a delicate gold band onto Niusha's left hand.
Blinking back a tear, Niusha smiled and squeezed the hand that still held her own. "How can I express the joy that fills my heart, my love? How blessed am I to have your love, as you have and always shall have mine." Niusha slipped a golden band onto Emeth's hand as well. "You are the greatest gift I could ever have imagined; may each day we spend together be as blessed as the moment I met you."
"Emeth and Niusha, by the laws of Archenland I am happy to declare you husband and wife. My lords and ladies all, I present to you the Lord and Lady of Silvercreek," the chaplian spoke cheerfully, and all the people assembled stood in deafeningly joyous applause as Emeth and Niusha kissed.
The Archen knights rushed forward to congratulate them as the guests began to mill towards the refreshment tables set up at the side of the lawn. The servants quickly removed the benches, leaving the trim lawn perfect for dancing. Galen struck up a merry tune on his flute, which Sir Torban's lute and the Princess's lyre quickly joined.
The Lord and Lady of Silvercreek were the first to join arms in joyful dance, but the king and queen and the rest of the guests soon followed suit. The moon and stars gleamed overhead, and after a little while the court musicians took over their duties, leaving Galen and Lyra free to enjoy the dancing themselves. A little while later, as Ayden claimed several dances with his sister, Galen found himself standing at the edge of the lawn talking with Aiolos. The pleasant company did not last long, however. Lord Trelain approached Galen with a determined expression, several other parliament members behind him.
"Sir Galen, we would speak with you a moment," the lord spoke insistently.
With a knowing glance at Aiolos, who wisely moved off, Galen replied, "Of course my lord. What can I do for you?"
"Sir Galen, we must ask you to reconsider your decision to keep the Stone Knife from Archenland."
"I cannot see that anything has changed, my lords. The gallery is still far too dangerous a place."
"We recognize your concerns, Sir Galen, but you cannot deny that the Knife has become an integral part of our country's history now, almost as much as yours. Is it so unreasonable to preserve such an important and holy artifact for Archenland's people?"
"It is not unreasonable to do so, my lord, providing, of course, that it is, in fact, preserved," Galen responded calmly, but a cold gleam lit his blue eyes.
"What if Archenland was to commission a new order of knights, under your command, whose sole task is to protect it. A new order of Lion's Redemption knights, if you will."
Galen paused a moment and appeared to consider Lord Trelain's proposal.
"That would be more acceptable, my lord, if the king will agree."
"Marvelous!" The lord and his companions beamed, and Lord Trelain shook the Narnian's hand fervently. "We will speak to the king and queen upon returning to Anvard. Shall we tentatively schedule return of the Knife to the gallery for Sunday afternoon?"
"You may do so, my lord," Galen responded, and the delighted lord began to move off. "Lord Trelain?" Galen called the Archenlander back, a hard look in his eyes.
"Yes, good sir?"
"Be sure you seek the Stone Knife for Aslan's sake and for Archenland's sake, not for your own."
Author's Notes: as always, I'd love to know what you think! The next chapter, Farewell to Archenland, should follow by the end of the week.
* The inspiration for this architectural design comes from Thomas Jefferson's Monticello, which uses strategic window placement and creative use of skylights to create the illusion of a single-story building.
**I mention a prime minister because it seems rather amiss to have a constitutional monarchy in the British mold with a Parliament but without a prime minister. The Archen prime minister differs from that of the modern Parliamentary systems in that he operates most like the American Speaker of the House, directing legislation and the proceedings of the legislative body. Unlike a modern parliamentary system, the executive and military power remain concentrated solidly in the hands of the ruling monarch.