Authoress's Note: Success! I have updated in less a time than five years! Even managed to make it in the same calendar year. Low expectations, I know. As a compensation, this chapter is a veritable monster at over 7,500 words. Grab the popcorn, dear readers! I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: Narnia is not mine. No copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter the Thirtieth: Concerning Tariffs
5 Fairdawn 2076
The pale, rosy light of dawn coated the surface of the smooth Galman harbor, turning it into a liquid mirror. The Jewel of Archenland lay at anchor, having made harbor during the night. Picturesque cottages with thatched roofs dotted the soft green hills that sloped gently in the distance. The Jewel cut a proud figure among her peers, but among the modest fishing boats and weathered merchant vessels that filled the Galman harbor she looked as though from another world. Little stirred at this early hour but a few shrill-voiced terns. In the Officers' Mess, Lyra quietly sipped a cup of tea as she reviewed her notes for the coming day. Ever so often, she would dip her pen into a small inkwell and write a few words in the margin. The room itself was deserted. Presently, the hatch opened and one of the Jewel's cooks entered.
"Good morning, Gerald," the princess greeted with a quick smile.
"Good morning, my lady," the cook cheerfully answered. "Would you like the windows open?"
"Very much, thank you," Lyra answered before glancing back to her notes. As Gerald opened the windows, the sweet smell of grass and saltwater wafted through the room.
"It looks to be a good day, your highness."
"Indeed," Lyra answered, taking a sip of her tea.
"May I prepare you some breakfast, my lady? Your favorite pancakes, perhaps, or something more special?"
"Thank you, Gerald. Just a little oatmeal today, I think."
"With cinnamon and cream?"
"You know me well," Lyra smiled.
"I'll have it right away, my lady," the cook ducked out and Lyra returned to her notes.
Presently, the hatch opened again and Captain Torin entered.
"Good morning, my lady," he greeted. "Preparing for the day?"
"Indeed, captain," she answered with a slight nod. "I hope you'll forgive me if I do not provide much conversation this morning."
"Not at all," Torin smiled knowingly before taking his customary seat and beginning to review crew reports.
Presently, the cook returned with a small bowl of oatmeal, which he placed in front of the princess, and a plate with an omelet and a few slices of bacon, which he placed in front of the captain. Taking a silver coffee pot from the sideboard, he filled the china cup at the captain's right hand.
"Thank you kindly, good lad," Torin thanked the cook, who replaced the coffee pot on the sideboard.
"More tea, my lady?"
"Yes, please, Gerald," she answered, "thank you."
As the cook poured the tea, another officer entered, a sheaf of papers under his arm.
"Good morning, your highness, sir," the young man nodded to Lyra and the Captain in turn.
"Good morning, Lieutenant Trevelyan," the princess greeted warmly. "Please, sit. We have much to review."
"Of course, my lady. I have brought a copy of the 2074 Galman trade treaty, as you requested."
"Excellent. I am grateful for your assistance."
"It is my pleasure, my lady," the young officer answered, smiling kindly and taking the seat next to her.
"As I recall, the 2074 treaty significantly reduced tariffs on Galman wool."
"That's correct, my lady. Queen Layla negotiated the reduction in tariffs in return for opening the Galman market to Archen wheat."
"What was the change in tariff rate?"
"For two decades prior, Archenland imposed a seventy percent tariff on Galman wool imports. Under the 2074 treaty, it was reduced to thirty percent."
"And the tariff on fish and fish products?"
"We reduced it from eighty percent to forty percent. In exchange, Galma opened its ports to Archen wheat exports and reduced its tariffs on iron ore, steel, and lumber from sixty percent to twenty-five."
"It imposed a stiff tariff on the wheat, nonetheless, correct?"
"Indeed. Two hundred percent."
"Given the food shortage Galma has faced in recent years, the Duke hurts his own people with so high a tax," Lyra shook her head.
"Given the shortages, perhaps the Duke will be more amenable to more favorable terms," Trevelyan suggested. As they spoke, various officers about to come on duty for the day filtered into the room and quietly took their breakfasts.
The princess nodded. "It weighs in our favor. Are there any treaty loopholes or nuances I should be mindful of during negotiations?"
"The terms of the treaty do not specify the quality of wool that Archenland will accept. As a result, the past year has seen declining grades of wool exported from Galma to Archen markets. In addition, while the treaty lowered tariffs significantly for steel and iron ore, it does not prohibit Galma from reducing its cap on total steel and iron imports."
"Galma is poor in natural resources. It depends on Archen lumber and steel, and other islands cannot compensate if we reduce our exports," Lyra mused. "But I can well imagine that the Duke would impose restrictions on steel in order to exert more control his subjects."
"Indeed, my lady. In our favor, the treaty does not regulate the kinds of inspections Archenland may impose on imported products. And, the tariff on wool automatically increases to fifty percent after three years unless renewed."
"Very well. I will consider our best approach. It is not likely we will begin in earnest until this afternoon."
"When are we disembarking, my lady?"
"Within an hour, I should think. The Duke will have sent a number of carriages and horses for our convenience."
"I have assigned a platoon of marines as escort, your highness," Captain Torin added.
"Very well. Galman royalty may be disagreeable, but they are not generally a threat," Lyra replied with a wry smile.
"Will you be returning to the ship this evening?" the Captain inquired.
"I do not think so. The duchess will take offense if I do not accept her hospitality. However, I should like to depart early tomorrow morning, if possible."
"Of course, my lady," the Captain agreed.
"By the way, have you seen Galen anywhere?"
"He was up and gone before the dawn, my lady," Gerald answered with a chuckle. "I think he wanted to explore the town a little."
"I can't blame him." Lyra laughed. "Thank you."
The princess tucked her sheaf of papers into a soft leather folder, latched the lid of her little writing set, and quietly slipped out of the hatch and onto the main deck. After asking Commander Randolph, who had the morning watch, to inform Galen of the diplomatic party's plan when he returned, she returned to her cabin to prepare.
At that moment, Galen was perfectly content to sit among the little yellow buttercups and soft grass of the hill overlooking the harbor. He had left the ship at the first light of dawn and walked leisurely along the packed mud streets past sleepy shops and thatch-roofed cottages. Despite the early hour, many fishermen were leaving their homes and heading to their boats. Galen passed them all with a nod and a smile, then followed the road up into the hills. There, the deep green grass held a bluish tinge and seemed to ripple like the sea in the wind that whipped across the island's hilltops. The sky, by that time, reflected a pale blue at its zenith and deep rose at the horizon. Darker clouds to the northwest spoke of rain later, but the puffy white clouds that partly overcast Galma's sky picked up flecks of gold from the dawning sun's rays.
The Narnian closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
"I've not seen you before," a gruff voice behind him spoke.
Galen started, then turned to see an old man standing a few feet behind him. His grey beard trailed onto his slate blue blouse, a worn brown coat hung about his knees, a grey wool cap was cocked on his head, and he leaned on a weathered wooden stick. He looked suspiciously down on the foreign interloper.
"I've not been here before, sir," Galen answered.
"Well, you've found the best view of the harbor, anyway," said the stranger, plunking down on the turf beside the Narnian and looking out over the harbor towards the western sky. The weathered streaks marking his coffee-brown leather boots spoke of long years at sea.
"Are you a fisherman, sir?" Galen inquired after a moment.
"I suppose I am, young lad," the man's gravelly voice answered. "At least, I am now, when the morning isn't too cold." The man paused a moment and pulled a long-stemmed pipe from his coat pocket. Like everything else about the man it was old and worn, but faithful. He expertly lit it with a bit of flint and steel, and after a few moments began to puff contentedly.
"And what brings you here, lad?"
"An adventure."
"Oh, an adventure, is it?" The old man puffed ponderously. "It must be an interesting one to bring an Archen warrior to our humble shores."
Galen laughed. "And what brought you to that conclusion?"
"Well, you've a bright shiny sword, for one," the man puffed on without missing a beat. "And I've seen enough Archenlanders in my time to know the cut of their tunics. And you're no sailor—not by a long shot."
Galen chuckled again. "What makes you think that?"
"Your hands."
"Indeed?"
"If you were a sailor, you'd have different callouses. And if you were an officer, the only reason you'd be up this early is if you drew watch."
"Well, I can't argue with you. You sound like you've seen a sail or two."
"Forty years in the merchant marine, and if my back let me climb a rope I'd still be at sea." The pipe still puffed steadily.
"I'd bet you've had an adventure or two yourself."
"Aye, lad, but the fishing isn't too bad either."
Later in the morning, a bright carriage rolled through the busy market street, followed by a string of horses and soldiers. They approached the harbor and drew to a stop in front of the Jewel of Archenland's gangplank. Princess Lyra stood on the deck, dressed in a burgundy linen dress and green velvet over-bodice. Gold embroidery worked intricately around the dress's wide hem, narrow sleeves, and pointed neckline. A forest green emerald nestled in gold filigreed dropped from a long, delicate gold chain around her neck. Part of the princess's golden hair twisted up behind her head before cascading in curls down her back. A gold circlet graced her brow, and soft brown leather riding gloves covered her hands. The toes of matching brown riding boots peeked from beneath her hem.
Beside her, Galen wore the traditional attire of Archen knights—a green tunic embroidered with the Archen gryphon covered a fine linen shirt, cuffed at the wrists. His sword hung at his side, and polished black boots covered his dark brown trousers to the knee.
Colonel Grey stood at the princess's other side, dressed with his usual sharpness. Lieutenant Trevelyan, with a leather case containing a sheaf of notes tucked under his arm, completed the party, and the platoon of marines assigned as the princess's guard stood in a neat row behind them.
Presently, a Galman knight made his way up the gangplank and stopped short of the deck. He bowed deeply.
"Your highness," he addressed, "the Duke William and Duchess Elizabeth convey their warmest regards and bid you welcome to Galma. His Grace has provided transportation for your highness's convenience. If it meets with your approval, it will be our honor to escort you and your party to the palace."
"You have our thanks, sir knight," Lyra inclined her head. "It will be our pleasure to receive their Graces' kind hospitality."
The knight bowed again, descended the gangplank, and took a position just to the right.
Lyra descended first, and as she passed, each Galman attendant, whether knight or page, bowed deeply. The remainder of the party followed. Lieutenant Trevelyan offered a hand to Lyra as she stepped carefully into the first carriage, then joined her. As much as she disliked carriages, she knew the Galman rulers would take offense if she did not avail herself of the one they had provided. Galen and the Archen marines' commander rode horseback, while the platoon was left to march behind them. Two helpful Archen sailors loaded the party's leather valises into the boot of the carriage before the party disembarked.
The caravan moved away from the wharf, and as it passed through the market, an old woman selling bread shook her head.
"Billy and Betsey up to the same old foolishness," she muttered, dismissing her sovereigns with characteristic Galman resignation.
The half-hour ride to the palace passed shortly for Galen, who enjoyed the rolling Galman hills and the fresh aroma of their blue-green grasses. The minutes did not pass so easily for Lyra, who, leaning back against the overstuffed seat cushion, gazed toward the now-overcast sky and thought it a fitting match for her thoughts. Her brother told her she had a knack for diplomacy, but she did not enjoy it. The sparkle of adventure seemed so far away.
At last, the carriage pulled to a stop. Lyra's heart twinged.
"To battle," she thought to herself.
A Galman page opened the door. Lieutenant Trevelyan, ever quick, departed the carriage and stood ready to offer his hand to his sovereign. She availed herself of it gracefully, stepping to the pavement in front of the Duke and Duchess's manor. The Archen princess looked at it with familiarity, mingled with disdain.
"My lady," Galen joined her. "You think much of Galman hospitality, I see," he remarked in a low voice, smirking.
"I hope that will be the last time this visit my eyes betray me," the princess answered wryly, then advanced toward the manor entrance.
Galen took a moment to look over the manor. It was quite humble in comparison to Anvard. Built entirely of red brick worn by Galma's notorious wind and rain, the manor resembled a castle in miniature. Four square turrets stood at each of the four corners, no more than than three or four stories tall. The walls running between the turrets were built to seem as though they supported full parapets, but a careful eye revealed them to be nothing more than facades. Likewise, the turrets themselves evinced wear at the corners. Oddly, Galen noticed, the purported arrow-slits on each side of the turrets were glazed, not open, as functional arrow-slits should be. Likewise, the walls along the sides of the building contained many windows, low to the ground. The expensive glass contrasted strangely with the weatherbeaten brick exterior. The landscaping surrounding the small courtyard was, to Galen's mind, far overdone. Bushes carefully sculpted into whimsical figures alternated between explosions of colorful flowers packed into small beds. Overadorned flags at the tops of two flagpoles snapped in the irregular breeze. Wide stairs led from the courtyard paving stones to the double wooden doors bound with iron bands. Galman knights stood on each stair, their swords held stolidly in salute. As the princess and her entourage approached, the Duke and Duchess made their grand entrance. The double doors were thrown wide, and a man and woman of middle age stepped out of the manor. They were both dressed richly in brightly colored velvet and lace. The woman wore her graying hair elaborately piled upon her head, with wine-colored ribbons swirling through the carefully crafted curls. Her large feet were pinched into pointed, heeled slippers and to Galen her voice seemed equally pinched as she raised her voice in greeting.
"Welcome, Princess Lyra, and all your esteemed company. It is with pride that we welcome you to our noble home."
The Archen princess inclined her head. "Duke William, Duchess Elizabeth, we thank you for your hospitality. It is a pleasure indeed to return to the green hills of Galma."
Lyra carefully lifted her hem a few inches and began to ascend the stairs. Galen and the Archen officers followed behind her, the Archen platoon neatly marching behind them. At the second stair from the top, Lyra stopped and dropped a graceful curtsy. The Duke and Duchess bowed in return, then the Duchess embraced Lyra lightly and kissed her on both cheeks.
"It is so lovely to see you, your highness!"
"Likewise, your grace!" Lyra smiled warmly, and Galen marveled at her self-control.
The party entered the castle, which, despite its dark brick walls enjoyed an ample supply of sunlight from its many windows.
"Your graces, it is my pleasure to introduce you to my companions: Colonel Grey, an Archen Marine and my kinsman; Lieutenant Trevelyan of the Archen Navy, my attaché; and Sir Galen, a knight of our company."
Each man bowed as the princess introduced them. The Duchess's eye lingered on Galen longest of all.
"You are most welcome in our palace, good sirs," the Duke answered. Galen barely caught himself from snickering at his use of the word "palace."
"A welcome luncheon and reception will be held at noon in your highness's honor," Duchess Elizabeth explained. "A servant will show you and your attendants to your quarters that you may refresh yourselves in the meantime."
"You have our thanks, your grace," was Lyra's reply.
A servant arrayed in blue and yellow Galman livery approached and bowed deeply. Without a word, Lyra inclined her head to her hosts and followed the servant, who turned and led the party down the corridor along the outer wall. The windows cast a friendly light upon many rich tapestries that hung along the brick wall that made up the corridor's other bound. Reaching the northwest parapet, the servant entered a stairway and ascended to the second level. Once there, another corridor proceeded back they way they came, then turned to the right. Doors were spaced at intervals. At the center, the servant stopped. He opened the door before him, entered, and bowed low.
Lyra entered to see a comfortably appointed sitting room laid out before her. Two female servants stood near the large windows. Tea service for four sat upon the low table between sofas. The furniture was upholstered richly in dark red damask silk, while matching curtains hung in graceful folds at the windows. The walls themselves, however, evinced wear and several tapestries appeared strategically placed to cover imperfections.
"Is everything to your highness's satisfaction?" The servant inquired.
"Yes, good sir," Lyra acknowledged. "I trust provision has been made for sleeping quarters for myself and my companions?"
"Of course, your highness. Your maidservants will show you to your adjoining sleeping chambers. Menservants will be sent shortly to attend your companions, and a large room across the hall has been set aside for the use of the soldiers of your guard."
"You have anticipated every need, good servant. Please convey our satisfaction and thanks to their graces."
The servant contained a satisfied smile, though his cheeks blushed a little. "With gratitude, your highness," he bowed again before stepping outside and closing the door behind him.
Once the door closed, the two maidservants approached and curtsied deeply to Lyra.
"If your highness and your highness's companions would please to be seated, tea is prepared for your refreshment."
"My thanks," Lyra responded, taking a seat on one of the sofas and with a wave of her hand inviting her companions to do likewise. Galen took a seat on the sofa perpendicular to Lyra's, while Colonel Grey sat beside his niece. Lieutenant Trevelyan took a moment to place his satchel of papers beside the sofa across the table from the princess before taking his seat. In short order, the maids poured tea and set an assortment of cakes, delicate sandwiches, and cookies on the table beside them.
"What be your names, good ladies?" Lyra inquired of the maids as they worked.
It was a moment before they answered, realizing with a start that the princess was addressing them.
"I am called Sara, your highness," the dark-haired maid answered with a bob of her head.
"Lily, your highness," the light-haired lass answered, bobbing a small curtsy even as she expertly poured tea.
"I do not recall your presence at my last visit to Galma. Have you but lately entered their graces' service?"
"Indeed, your highness," was the only reply Lyra could obtain from the shy maids. They withdrew as soon as the tea was laid out.
"If you have need of us, your highness, you need only ring the bell at your left hand," Sara indicated the small handbell on the side table. Without another word, the two withdrew to the adjoining room and closed the door behind them.
"They seem frightened, my lady," Galen remarked with concern.
"Such is what I have come to expect from all Galman servants, unfortunately," Lyra replied. "I little think the Duke and Duchess treat their servants well."
"It is a small island, my lady," Colonel Grey noted. "If they displease their masters, where could they go?"
"And this Duke and Duchess are easy to displease," Lyra remarked quietly before taking a sip of tea.
"With your highness's permission," Lyra's uncle stood and bowed, "I will see that my men are stationed appropriately around our rooms. I do not expect much in the way of danger here, but it goes against my habits to take less care as a result."
"Of course, uncle," Lyra inclined her head. "Sir Galen, if you would care to accompany the Colonel, mayhap he will acquaint you better with the home of our hosts. I am afraid Lieutenant Trevelyan and I have work to do before the lunch."
"With enthusiasm, my lady," Galen stood and bowed before following Colonel Grey outside the room.
While Lyra and Trevelyan meticulously reviewed the notes and discussed negotiation strategy, Galen was happy to inspect the manor house thoroughly with Lyra's uncle. The seasoned Archen marine could not completely contain the proud twinkle in his clear blue eyes as he left his niece to prepare for the negotiations she abhorred.
Galen passed the rest of the morning happily in the Colonel's company, conferring with him on matters of security and becoming more familiar with the manor and its many tactical weaknesses.
"What know you of castle construction, Sir Galen?" Colonel Grey inquired as they walked around the outer perimeter three-quarters of an hour later.
"A little, my lord," the Narnian answered.
"What do you make of these turrets, then?"
"Well, to begin, their square shape is vulnerable to undermining."
"Well marked," the Archen marine nodded approvingly. "Square turrets such as these are easier to construct but also easier to destroy."
As the two walked, Galen noticed that two Galman soldiers followed in their footsteps, but Colonel Grey paid them no mind and Galen decided he would only do so if they presented a threat. The remainder of the hours until luncheon passed quickly for the young knight, who found himself warmly inclined towards Lyra's uncle. He saw in the weathered marine's eyes the same defiant sheen that so often colored his niece's eyes. The Narnian smiled at the resemblance, and wondered if, for his part, he also carried some small piece of his father with him in similar fashion.
"Oh, Princess Lyra, do tell us of your fair companions," a giggle escaped the lips of one of the young ladies who surrounded the Archen princess. These young representatives of the duchess's extended family accompanied the duchess nearly everywhere, but at this moment they surrounded Lyra as they all stood in the central courtyard sipping lemonade. The luncheon had passed without incident, and the reception continued into the afternoon. Lyra's giggling companions cast quick glances towards both Galen and Lieutenant Trevelyan.
"I am at a loss to discern what you wish to know, my ladies," Lyra answered calmly.
"Heaven preserve us," one of the girls sighed in exasperation, while Lyra bit back a chuckle.
"Have they ladies waiting for them at home, of course!" The other exclaimed, a little too loudly. Lyra reserved another chuckle.
"I cannot answer for my attaché, but Sir Galen is but lately come to Archenland and I do not believe he has claimed a lady's favor as yet."
Another giggle from the girls.
"If you like, I would be happy to introduce you."
More giggles.
"Oh yes! Thank you, your highness!"
Lyra made her way over towards her comrades, who seemed earnestly intent on avoiding her simpering companions' gazes.
"Sir Galen, Lieutenant Trevelyan, may I introduce you to Lady Sophia and Lady Serena, nieces of the Duchess Elizabeth."
The two girls curtsied shyly, and Lyra's eye carried a mischievous twinkle. The two men bowed in turn and murmured their polite rejoinders. As the girls rose from their curtsies to ply the young men with questions, Lyra surreptitiously withdrew and made her way to another part of the courtyard, where the Galman trade minister was chatting with the Galman defense minister. As she made her way, the Archen princess glanced back and caught Galen's eye. His exasperation was evident, and her eyes only laughed in return. She had work to do, and her companions' sacrifice, however unwilling, helped her immensely.
"Minister Gareth," Lyra greeted the trade minister, "how lovely to see you again."
Bowing, the minister took the hand she offered and kissed it lightly.
"The pleasure is always ours, noble lady."
"I look forward to our discussions later today," Lyra responded warmly. "Our lands have benefitted from the latest treaty, to my estimation, and I look to the opportunity to increase that effect to our mutual gain."
The minister's eyes brightened at her words. "As do I, your highness."
"Reduce the wheat tariff by 150 percent? Your highness must be mad!" Minister Gareth exclaimed, his dark eyes flashing as he leaned back in his chair.
"You would be mad to do otherwise," Princess Lyra responded evenly, unruffled. "Surely you can see the benefits of widening the reach of Galman wool and fish in return."
"And see Galma become reliant on Archen wheat instead of its own good barley!"
"Come now, Minister, you do me dishonor," the Princess chided gently, a twinkle in her eye. "Has Archenland ever given you cause for such alarm? Besides, our wool has always been sufficient for our needs. We need not be as free with Galman stuff as we have been." Lyra's voice took ever-so-slightly a harder edge and arched an eyebrow. "And you know as well as I that the barley yields lately have been smaller than usual. Your people would benefit from the security of knowing that they will not need fear hunger this winter should the barley yield prove unequal again this year. Surely the unrest that hunger and uncertainty breed would not benefit the Galman government."
Minister Gareth chuckled. "You make a convincing argument, your highness. I would expect nothing less." The minister leaned back in his chair and met the Princess's gaze evenly for a moment. "I think we can agree to reduce the wheat tariff by 95 percent."
"Make it 115 percent and I will consider this point resolved."
The Minister paused, then nodded his assent. Lyra smiled.
"Let us proceed to discuss metal and ore trade."
"Perhaps a brief recess would be in order, your highness," Minister Gareth proposed. "We have been at it some hours and I would think the servants have afternoon tea prepared."
"Very well," the Archen princess agreed, standing. The others at the table, including the Galman ministers and the duke, stood as well.
Colonel Grey stood outside the door and straightened when his niece and sovereign exited. Galen followed closely behind her, while Lieutenant Trevelyan remained behind to write up notes on the new treaty terms in the opportunity afforded him.
As soon as the door closed behind her, Lyra closed her eyes, rested her head in her hand, and took a deep breath.
"Are you alright, my lady?" Galen asked, concerned.
"Indeed, good sir," Lyra replied, straightening. "I needed but a moment. Trade negotiations are a draining endeavor, but one which shall soon be over, if the remainder of the afternoon proceeds well."
"I am glad to hear it," her uncle added.
"A quick walk, and then back to work," Lyra smiled thinly, turning towards the courtyard.
"Huzzah!" The clink of classes attended the cheer of those present around the duke and duchess's formal dinner table as Lyra and Duke William set aside their quill pens. By all accounts the negotiation was a resounding success, the cheer of jubilation following the signing of the new treaty. All of the duke and duchess's court were arrayed in their finery for a state dinner such as Galma rarely had the honor of holding. Lyra dazzled in a blue silk gown, while Galen wore a formal velvet version of his Archen tunic.
"To Princess Lyra," Minister Gareth held his glass high, "who is as worthy an adversary across the negotiating table as she is beautiful to behold."
"To Princess Lyra!" The room's occupants resounded, holding their glasses high.
"My thanks," Lyra curtsied in return. "Galman hospitality is as warm as the island is fair. We are grateful for your kind reception. And Minister Gareth," the princess turned to the Galman nobleman, "we return your kind compliments with equal respect."
"My lords and ladies," the duke's head steward addressed the assembly, "if you would take your seats, dinner will be served directly."
The scrape and scuff of wooden chair legs on the polished wooden floor ensued as the servants pulled out each chair and the nobles took their seats. Duke William was, of course, seated at the head of the table in a tunic of fine gold brocade. His lady was seated at his left hand in matching attire and Princess Lyra at his right. Colonel Grey sat at the Princess's side, while Galen was seated beside the Duchess. The room itself, Galen noted, was the best appointed of all the rooms Galen had seen yet. A large stone fireplace containing a roaring fire burned at each end of the long hall. Dark wooden beams supported the arched ceiling, and rich tapestries depicting various legendary tales adorned the walls.
As the servants served the first course, the buzz of conversation began to fill the room.
"Sir Galen," Duchess Elizabeth began, "My ladies and I have heard tales brought from the merchant ships of some exciting goings-on in Archenland of late."
"Indeed, your grace?" Galen responded.
"Indeed. In fact, a knight of your name features most prominently in these tales, from Narnia, of all places. And Lady Sophia tells me you are but lately come into the Archen service. You must be he."
"I cannot deny your logic, your grace."
"Oh, you must tell me more than that! What was it like to rescue the princess from the Calormenes?"
"Difficult, your grace," Galen responded in between bites of salad. A cross look flitted briefly across the duchess's face.
"Oh, why are men so terrible at conversation," she muttered to herself. "You must admire the princess quite a lot to accompany a rescue party into hostile territory," the duchess tried a different tack.
"She is an admirable lady, but that is not why I joined the rescue party."
"Oh?"
"I joined it because I was needed," the Narnian knight elaborated.
The cross look lingered longer on the duchess's face this time.
Across the table, Duke William was regaling Princess Lyra and Colonel Grey with his military stratagems. For his part, Galen thought he would rather endure the Duchess and her ladies.
Midway through the meal, a page approached Colonel Grey and spoke in a low tone. The Archen marine immediately stood and, begging the duke's pardon, withdrew outside. Moments later he returned.
"Your highness, a word if you please."
"Pardon me, your grace," the princess stood without waiting for a response from the duke.
"My lady, I have received word from the Captain," Colonel Grey spoke in a low tone once they had stepped away from the table. "The weather has taken a turn for the worse. He expects that a storm will beset Galma from the Northwest within the night. We can outrun it if we skirt Galma's southern shore and make sail for the northeast, but the Jewel must weigh anchor no later than nine this evening. We could weather the storm in port, but that presents its own hazards and we would have to delay our departure until late tomorrow or the next day."
"Very well, uncle. Send word to the captain that we will return to the ship with all haste. He can expect us within two hours time."
Colonel Grey nodded his assent and returned to the hall to give the Princess's reply to the ship's messenger.
Lyra returned to her place at the table.
"If I may, your grace" she cut into the conversation, "we have received word from our ship's captain. He is wary of the weather and counsels that we must, unfortunately, depart this evening rather than tomorrow morning for the good of the ship. I pray you forgive the brevity of our visit and accept our sincere apologies."
"I am sorry to hear that, your highness, but we all well know the insistence of seamen. Your apology is accepted with goodwill," the duke answered, casting his eye briefly askance.
Lyra inclined her head in thanks.
"If I may impose further, may I request that horses be readied for myself and my companions that we may depart after the conclusion of your gracious dinner."
The duke nodded his assent and waved for the head steward to give instructions accordingly.
The dinner proceeded without further incident, and by the time dessert was served, Galen's head fairly spun with exhaustion from dodging the ladies' probing questions.
Lyra took a brief moment to change from her evening attire to her more suitable traveling dress from the morning. At last, the Archenlanders and their company withdrew to the courtyard and made their farewells.
This time, no carriages greeted the Princess, greatly to her liking. Grooms held saddled horses at the base of the wide stair from the central door.
"We thank your graces deeply for your kind hospitality. May Aslan's blessings be upon you," Lyra curtsied deeply.
Duke and Duchess returned her courtesy and bade her and her companions safe journey.
Ignoring the groom's offer of a mounting block and placing her riding boot in the stirrup, Lyra swung deftly into the saddle, her skirts draping gracefully behind her. Her valise had been secured behind her horse's saddle, as had her companions' belongings likewise on their own mounts. The Archen officers mounted the horses behind her, while Galen mounted the horse beside her. To the rear, the platoon of Archen marines formed up. Ahead of them, two grooms mounted their own ponies and carried lanterns to light the travelers' way.
Nodding her last farewell, the Princess spurred her mount to a quick walk. Her companions followed suit, and soon they would their way down towards the harbor. The sky was pitch black above them—not even Spearhead shone through the cloud cover—and the fitful wind off the sea brought the heady smell of rain waiting to fall.
"Congratulations on the negotiations, my lady," Galen offered with a smile. "That seemed to go very well."
Lyra chuckled wryly. "The duke and duchess have no love lost for me, my friend. If these negotiations have been successful, it is because the Galman trade minister is shrewd and the duke too lazy to involve himself."
"I see," Galen replied thoughtfully.
"Did the duchess succeed in her interrogation?" Lyra asked with an arch look.
Galen broke into a smile and laughed broadly. "No, indeed! I'm afraid I frustrated her to no end with my unfailingly unilluminating answers."
"That is well," Lyra smiled. "Anything she hears, you can be assured, will be spread oe'r the seas before we arrive at our next port."
After a moment, the Princess took a deep breath and released it, sounding more relaxed than before. The horses continued to pick their way down the winding hill road and soon the twinkling lights began to shine out from the village. The Jewel's white sails gleamed even without moonlight, and they were set to sail at a moment's notice. None too soon for the Archen princess, the horses drew to a stop before the gangplank. She dismounted, followed by her companions. Each made sure to remove their satchels from the saddles before turning the reins over to the grooms who had led the way. The grooms promptly made their way back towards the village with the horses in tow.
Once all were onboard, the Archen sailors secured the gangplank, weighed anchor, and the fitful wind carried the Jewel swiftly away from the Galman dock.
As the ship exited the harbor and entered the open sea, Galen looked to the northwest and could see tiny flashes of lightning far off on the horizon.
"It is well you returned so early, your highness," Captain Torin greeted the princess. "That storm will roll across Galma by midnight or I'm a landsman."
"Is the ship in any danger, Captain?" The princess inquired.
"Nay, my lady. With these winds, we should be able to double the southern shore of Galma and take a northeastern heading out to open sea in relatively short order. The storm will pass to the south of us."
"I am pleased to hear it, good sir," Lyra returned. "Thank you for your foresight in summoning us."
The captain inclined his head before returning to the quarterdeck. Without a word, he patted the sailor manning the wheel on the shoulder, and the sailor yielded the helm to his captain. With a steady hand and experienced eye, the Captain began guiding the ship around Galma.
"I bid you good evening, your highness," Lieutenant Trevelyan bowed before he retired to his quarters. "I will have copies of the new trade treaty prepared to send to Anvard at our next port."
"Very well, lieutenant. I am grateful for your assistance today."
"I am honored, my lady," the young man bowed again before disappearing belowdecks.
Galen was about to follow him down the port stair when he noticed Lyra straying towards the bow of the ship, her eyes absently scanning the horizon.
After a moment, Galen followed. By this time, Lyra sat nestled in the ship's bow, her head leaning against the starboard railing and her eyes glancing at the far Galman shore. Her burgundy linen skirts puddled around her, and in the pale light of the ship's lanterns her blue eyes shone with a silver sheen. She looked weary.
"May I join you, my lady?" The Narnian softly spoke.
"Of course," Lyra mustered a thin smile. Galen settled himself against the opposite rail.
"Are you alright, Lyra?" He gently asked after a moment's silence. The princess nodded.
"Negotiations such as those are draining," she answered quietly after a brief pause. "I find far more villains across a conference table than I do across a battlefield. At least those on the battlefield have the honor to fight face to face." Lyra looked down as her words trailed off, rubbing her hands together as though to wipe the grit and blood of an imaginary battle from them. In the silence that followed, a sudden gust of wind bounced the ship and gave the two friends a hard bump.
"Reef the topgallants!" The captain's voice echoed from the stern, and sailors went promptly aloft to execute his command to bring in the topmost sail on the middle and forward masts.
A wince had crossed Lyra's face as the bump jolted she and Galen where they sat. Weary enough to forget she was not alone, the princess pressed a hand to her left shoulder and closed her eyes in a shudder of pain.
Galen placed a gentle hand against her left arm. "What is wrong, my lady?" The Narnian asked, alarmed. "What ails thee?"
"'Tis nothing, Galen," was her terse reply as she returned her right hand to her lap and opened her eyes.
"Do you take me for a fool, my lady?" The Narnian knight arched an eyebrow and leaned back against the rail. The princess met his gaze briefly, then looked away with a sigh.
"My wounds from the skirmish with the wolves last month still pain me every now and then. They are well-nigh healed, but there are days—especially gloomy evenings like this one—when I can almost feel the claws."
"'Tis nothing to be ashamed of, Lyra," Galen steadily gazed at his friend, gently taking her hand in his. Again she closed her eyes to wince, though this time it seemed not a wince of pain but of embarrassment.
"Do the faces of those you have killed in battle ever haunt your sleep?" The young Narnian asked when she did not speak further. The Archen princess's eyes started and met his own momentarily.
"Aye," she spoke softly as she looked away. "More nights than I would care to count am I visited by the ghastly visages of the slain. The leering countenance of the Calormene prince most of all." Her voice shuddered.
"You are safe now, my friend," Galen spoke reassuringly and squeezed her hand.
"I am weak to allow such terrors to haunt my sleep." A single tear rolled down the lady's cheek, and she took her hand away from Galen's to swat the tear away angrily.
"Nay, Lyra—you are strong to endure them," Galen countered earnestly. "My father once told me that battle haunts the sleep of every warrior, and you have faced battle more oft of late than is anyone's due."
A wan smile at last graced the princess's countenance as she inclined her head in thanks.
"Now, I have with me an old Narnian cure for poor sleep," Galen leaned back against the rail and pulled his flute from his bag with a twinkle in his eye. Lyra's chuckle was all the assent he needed. Soft, reedy notes soon wended their way through the thick evening air. Lyra leaned back against the rail and took a deep breath of the humid salt tang. At first, the notes were light and high in pitch, dancing deftly in the air. Soon, though, the flute's notes deepened into syrup-thick tones, deep and resplendent. A hush fell on the sailors working in the rigging above as they felt themselves grow completely content and thoughtful.
Galen continued to play, and soon the Narnian noticed that the Archen princess's eyelids had drooped closed. Her chest rose and fell in deep, even breaths, and her countenance rested tranquilly at peace. Galen smiled as the last note drifted off on the fitful wind. Quietly, he replaced his flute in his bag, stood, and tiptoed towards the stern. Pulling aside the first marine he saw, Galen asked that Colonel Grey be fetched at once. The commander of the Archen marines returned promptly.
"Sir Galen, is aught amiss?"
"Nay, good sir, everything is perfectly fine. Your niece has fallen asleep in the bow, and I thought you would prefer to see to her comfort personally."
Lyra's kinsman smiled with fatherly understandingly. "I am grateful for your courtesy, Sir Galen. It is well that she sleeps." The Archen marine made his way to the bow and returned shortly with the princess cradled in his arms. With a cat's stealth, Galen opened the hatches before him, and they descended belowdecks to Lyra's cabin, where Colonel Grey laid Lyra gently in her bunk and entrusted her to the care of her dutiful maid, who had accompanied her mistress on the voyage.
With a friendly nod, the Archen marine returned to his cabin. Satisfied with his work, Galen ducked inside his own cabin. Scarcely had his head touched the pillow before the Narnian was also fast asleep.
Authoress's Note: Many thanks for staying with it, dear readers! If you feel kindly, drop me a review! Next up, the Jewel makes for Terebinthia and we may hear a bit more of Juliana's plight.