Chapter Four
A Debt Forgiven
Rhoop stood at the rail of the Dawn Treader as she prepared to set sail. Caspian was already on board, along with Revilian, Argoz, Mavramorn, and most of the sailors.
They were only waiting for the last of the water casks to be loaded, and for Ramandu's daughter.
The wedding had been held the day before: a simple affair in which Rhoop had not been able to hold back a few tears. Perhaps it was because the bride had looked so beautiful in her gown of starry silver; or perhaps because it was exactly the kind of wedding he and Gwen had planned for themselves. Perhaps both.
Now the star and his daughter were saying their farewells in private. Caspian, a short distance away, gazed eastward into the sun as it rose. Rhoop did not understand how he, and the sailors, could do it without being blinded; the sun was so large and bright here near the end of the world.
*x*x*
They had fair sailing for some days. They passed the place where the Dark Island had been, but no trace of it was to be seen and Rhoop breathed more easily after that.
Mavramorn continued to avoid him, though Rhoop had heard Revilian ask him to 'let him speak with you, my lord. He does not hate you.'
Mavramorn had simply shaken his head and disappeared belowdecks.
One night, as they neared the place which the king ominously referred to as Deathwater, Rhoop could not sleep. His hammock seemed too narrow and the darkness pressed in on him. He had tried and failed, as he had for many nights in a row, to recall Gwen's face. On Ramandu's Island it had not troubled him. Here, he felt guilt for still allowing himself to think of her, and guilt that he could not remember even what she looked like.
After several hours of restless tossing, he got up and made his way to the deck.
The air was brisk and cold; the sails snapped and the ship creaked and groaned as she lay at anchor. Rhoop stamped his feet and paced up and down to warm himself.
The night watchman stood somewhere not far away; Rhoop could see the light from his lantern. But he had no wish for company tonight so he put more distance between them.
It was a lonesome night, and words to a lonely song, long forgotten, came to his mind. He began humming it under his breath as he paced.
Then, to his surprise, a dark shape by the opposite rail turned and looked at him. It was Mavramorn.
Aslan must have sent him up to the deck for this reason. But he felt rather hurt by his friend's constant refusal to speak to him. He nodded, but did not come any nearer, and Mavramorn went back to his place at the rail, melting into the shadows.
Rhoop resumed pacing, careful to stay on his side of the ship. He had done everything in his power to restore their friendship, and it was not he who had done the wrong. If Mavramorn wished to speak then he would listen, but there was nothing more he could do until then.
He did not look back towards Mavramorn again, and he started when, some minutes later, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Rhoop," Mavramorn said.
"Yes, Mavramorn?"
"May I walk with you?"
"Yes, of course."
They paced side by side in silence. Rhoop could almost feel Mavramorn trying to get up the courage to speak.
"Did I think too highly of myself?" Mavramorn said at last. "You are an honest man. Tell me."
"Every man does, to some degree," Rhoop said. "You are proud."
"I remember chiding you for cowardice, some years ago," Mavramorn continued. "That is what I mean. That I thought enough of my own courage that I could look down on you."
"You never looked down on me."
"Did I not? My father disliked our friendship; he said that you were from a family of less consequence than ours. There was a time when I felt that you were beneath me."
"But that was long ago."
"Perhaps. I feel now though as if I had always felt superior to you."
"You and Bern were our leaders," said Rhoop. "A leader is by nature superior to a follower."
"Only in certain ways." He paused and then said, in a voice so low that Rhoop hardly heard it. "I am ashamed."
"When I was rescued," Rhoop said, slowly. "Even the king himself would not stay there one moment longer, after I had told him what the island was. You cannot …" he searched for the right word. "You cannot hold yourself to a higher standard than our king."
"He is a mere boy. He was brought up by Miraz and has much to overcome in that respect. I have no such excuse."
Rhoop did not reply. They made almost a full circuit of the deck before Mavramorn spoke again.
"It was not only for your sake that I did not wish to ask your forgiveness. My own pride would not allow me … perhaps you can't understand. You are not a proud man."
Rhoop felt that a few more such flattering words as he had heard from Mavramorn and Revilian might well make him so, but he kept silent.
"You have given your forgiveness freely to Revilian and Argoz. I have wearied of having my friend near me but unable to speak to me. Rhoop," he stopped and seemed about to go down on his knee, but in the end he remained standing. "I know that I do not deserve it, but forgiveness is for guilty men, not those who have done no wrong. Do you forgive me?"
"Indeed I do," Rhoop said, his heart almost full to bursting.
Mavramorn bowed his head ever so slightly. "I am in your debt."
Rhoop reached out and grasped his hand. "Forgiven," he said. "I will not hold it against you."
Mavramorn sighed. "I am weary," he said. He turned quickly and walked away. Rhoop saw him draw his sleeve across his eyes.
