Chapter Three
A Wise Man Mends
He found Argoz first, seated on a fallen tree trunk, gazing out at nothing. Rhoop had come nearly to his side when Argoz looked up. Rhoop had always thought his face regal, more king-like than Miraz's: a long nose, square jaw, and very fine eyes. Now it was drawn as if in pain, with eyes that darted about, looking anywhere but in Rhoop's direction.
He sat on the trunk beside Argoz and a long moment of silence followed. The words he needed would come; he was sure of it. They must come.
"Do not sit wordless," Argoz said at last. "Curse me for the faithless friend that I am, or leave me."
Rhoop drew a deep breath. "You once told me that cursing was futile, and that a truly wise man would choose his words to heal a wound rather than deepen it."
Argoz finally met Rhoop's eyes with his own haunted ones. "You cannot forgive me. If all happened again as before, I know that I would find no more courage than I did the first time." He smote his clenched fist against his heart. "I would end my own life if I were not a coward."
Rhoop took Argoz' hand and gently pulled the fingers apart so that the palm lay open. He put it between both his hands and waited until Argoz met his eyes once more: no longer a stranger, but his old friend eaten up with guilt so intense that it might bring him to his death.
"It may be that I cannot forget my long imprisonment," he said. "But I do not say that I cannot forgive. A man might well turn coward when his hidden fears are brought to life."
Argoz fell on his knees in a sudden rush of tears, but Rhoop pulled him to his feet with a quick sense of shame on his own part and embraced him.
"We have a new king now, a true king." Rhoop stepped back and put his hands on Argoz' shoulders. "Let us go back to Narnia together and serve him as we served his father."
"Yes, yes," Argoz muttered, wiping away his tears. "It will be good to see home again."
Rhoop walked away after some time, sensing that Argoz wished to be alone. When he looked back, Argoz was staring after him with a face that shone with new hope.
He hurried on, determined to find the other two, and at the seashore he came upon Revilian idly throwing stones and twigs into the water. The breakers rushed up to the rocks, drenching them both in a fine spray.
Revilian looked at him for a long moment before turning back and throwing a handful of rocks as hard as he could into the sea.
"My Lord Rhoop," he said, his voice calm and flat. He bowed his head and made as if to leave, but Rhoop grasped his shoulder.
"I wish to speak to you," he said.
Revilian waited, his eyes on the ground.
"My friend," Rhoop said, and then stopped, remembering. "The last I saw of you, you were seasick, were you not?"
"I was."
"Come then. A man as sick as you were is not himself." He half-smiled. "You look much recovered."
"I suppose seven years on land is enough to cure any man of seasickness," Revilian said. He did not smile, but his tone was lighter. Then he lowered his voice. "Mavramorn would not allow us to ask you for forgiveness. He said … that it would only dishonor you. I wish … I wish to ask it, though."
"I do forgive you," said Rhoop.
"Thank you." Revilian looked down. "I think we might have returned for you, if not for the sleep that fell upon us. I do not know. I tried to convince them to turn back to Narnia."
"It is of no consequence what might have been. Seven years was time enough to live on that island and I will dwell there no longer."
Revilian took his hand in a firm grip. "You always were the best man among us, Rhoop," he said.
Rhoop's face warmed at his words. Revilian looked a bit awkward.
"I suppose you will be looking for Mavramorn next? Or Argoz?"
"I have seen Argoz already."
"Mavramorn is that way." He pointed vaguely toward the center of the island.
Rhoop went in that direction. It took some time before he found him. Mavramorn sat facing away from him, as motionless as a rock.
"Mavramorn," he said.
His friend gave a quick glance in his direction, stood, and began to walk away.
"Stay," said Rhoop.
But Mavramorn set off and disappeared into the thickest part of the trees. Rhoop hung his head wearily. Perhaps he had tried to do it too quickly. He had had the greatest success with Revilian; Argoz was still broken, and it would take a long time before they were able to speak freely with each other again.
But Rhoop was determined to reconcile with Mavramorn. They had been friends too long to simply throw it away. He had gathered, from things he had heard at the table, that it had been Mavramorn who had taken up the stone knife that had sent all three into an enchanted sleep. Most likely, as the recognized leader of all the seven lords after Bern had parted from them, he felt no small amount of guilt for many of the tragedies that had waylaid them all throughout the voyage; not least the leaving of Rhoop in the darkness.
He wondered what he could say; Mavramorn was a proud man, and very attuned to his own faults. Perhaps he should leave him alone for a while. The voyage home would give them plenty of time to speak, and, he thought with a slight smile, Mavramorn could not escape him so easily on board such a small ship.
