A/N: I'm baaaaaack... B-) For now, at least...
In other news, I've consolidated this fic by combining Chapters 1 and 2 into a single chapter.
See the west wind move like a lover so,
Upon the fields of barley.
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth,
Among the fields of gold.
Corin's POV
We remained in Narnia for two weeks time, only because in the end of it I could not persuade Cor to remain any longer. I understood his desire to return – our father had sailed for Galma with Dar and Darrin to discuss economic trade dealings involving commercial shipping and naval rights three days after the Archenland contingent left for the Solstice Festival. With the news of his safe arrival also came the news that his return journey would be seriously delayed by a vicious northeaster that was bearing down on Galma's ports, making travel in or out of the island nation utterly impossible while the gale lasted. Parliament was still nominally in session, various members still gathered in Anvard, but monarchial presence was absent from our country – which caused Cor to order us homeward. While I was happy that I would be seeing my own land again, I still felt like I could live a lifetime in Narnia. Alas, that lifetime was not to start quite yet.
But what a two weeks it had been, as I reflected back on it…
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…
I had been lying on my cot when I heard a mild uproar build amongst our knights outside the royal tent as the news spread that the High King had announced a courtship between Lucy and myself. I laughed quietly as one of our more-outspoken knights shouted at the top of his lungs, "He did it! The bloody lad did it!" (the "bloody lad", of course, being myself.).
"Do you hear it?" I opened my resting eyes to find the beautiful object of my affections standing at entrance of the tent. She smiled as she came over to me, taking my hands in hers. "And good morning, my love."
"Good morning to you too, fair one." I grinned in return. "Yes, I hear my exuberant countrymen – Peter must have dispensed the news freely."
Lucy laughed gaily. "He told them first of all, and spontaneous revelry nearly broke out in the throne hall. Oh, but you should have seen it – your knights celebrating, shouting their huzzahs in your honor, embracing each other, and Peter in the midst of them, acting as one of them, high-spirited with the best of them.. 'Twas a sight to remember, though Susan was relieved that the damage done to the throne hall was minimal."
Oh Aslan, I forgot about Susan. "And how did she take it?" I asked, somewhat apprehensively.
Thankfully, Lucy understood what my concern was. "Her reaction was one of surprise yesterday, and she didn't know what to say today – but once Edmund asked her if she had any objections, she realized she had nary a one. She loves you, Corin," and Lucy's smile was a sweet thing to behold. "and she's happy for us both. Does she have concerns? Undoubtedly, but that's natural for Susan, as you well know."
"As I well know indeed." I matched her smile with one of my own. "I'm glad for it, for she means the world to me, Lu."
"I know, and you two have always been adorable together." As I rolled my eyes, she giggled and pulled me up to a sitting position. "Come, enough chat. You should be walking, and today is as gorgeous a day as we've seen all year."
As she aided me to my feet, I noticed with relief that the soreness in my body was not as great as I thought it would be. My lovely consort helped me dress, and once we both judged I was decent enough to be seen in public (I came to that conclusion long before she did, but she won that debate), we sallied forth into the sunshine.
Hearty salutations met us as the knights, already joyous at the morning's news, were delighted to see me on my feet with no visible injuries. The same outspoken knight I had heard earlier met me with a greeting and clapped me on the shoulder, bellowing "So we won't have to wreak havoc and vengeance on Tinuviel's lands, aye sir?" I laughed in response, "Nay man, leave the fool to his own devices, for I've won the consent of the lady regardless!" A vigorous cheer erupted from my milling countrymen as Lucy beamed from my side.
A quick toast was drunk in my honor, then the knights returned to their duties with cheerful farewells and advice on how to impress a lady. I laughed in return, truly joyful to be back on my feet, Lucy's arm in mine and my countrymen around me…
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…
"So how does it feel?" Cor's question broke into my quiet horseback reverie, as the Archenland column slowly made their way homeward along the main road to the South. We had left Cair Paravel seven days ago, had passed the Glasswater province three days previously, and were approaching the border. Cor knew my mind was in another place and brought me out of it anyway – that normally would have annoyed me to no end, but it is difficult to be irritated when you feel like you are floating on air. Which was the response I gave him.
"Is that truly how it feels?"
"And more." I leaned back in the saddle and took a deep breath. "I feel like I could kiss the world."
My brother laughed. "Keep that limited to Lucy, she's probably the only one who'll appreciate it."
I chuckled, still not irritated. "And that will be just fine with me – but I still feel like I could kiss the world."
"While floating on air?" This from Aravis, her mare on the other side of Cor, grinning at my unabashedly dreamy state.
"Indeed, while floating on air."
"Just wait 'til the first child is born, your Highness. If there's anything to bring a man crashing back down to earth, it's the ear-splitting wail of an infant!" one of our knights called out from behind us, prompting roars of laughter throughout the ranks of knights riding at the back of Cor and myself. I laughed with them, as did Cor and Aravis, and the thought of children with Lucy made me smile anew. I knew of no other way to be happier on this day. Oh Aslan, why are You so good to me?
The day was beautiful, blue sky full to view with not a cloud in sight, the temperature neither warm nor cool, but merely perfect, and my heart was so full with happiness that I felt that if I did not exert some energy I would burst. I spurred my horse to a gallop while calling back to Cor, "By your leave, my royal kin, I will ride ahead and beat you to our homeland!"
"Leave granted…don't mind me…Aslan knows you wouldn't anyway…" I heard from behind me as the ground was trodden under the hooves of my stallion. "On sir, faster!" I urged him, and he responded with a whinny and a powerful shake of his mane, adding new speed to his hooves as they pounded the road. I released the reigns and held on with my shins to the saddle and my feet in the stirrups, stretching out my arms wide as if to embrace the world. By the scent of the air and the slow but steadfast brisk turn of the temperature, I knew the border was close and we were almost home. We entered a small forest grove on the gallop and exited it several minutes later just as fast, and then I saw the rolling foothills of the Narnian/Archenland border stretched out for miles before me. "We're home, gallant steed!" I cried out with joy, all the nationalistic patriotism of an Archenlander seeing his own land again welling out of me. "We're home!"
Continuing at a trot for what seemed like an hour (though it was undoubtedly much less), we finally slowed to a stroll once we passed the border into Archenland, and I felt the familiar ease of being back home come over me. It would not be long before I crossed this border back into Narnia again, and the next time I returned home from our northern neighbor I fully intended to have my beloved with me. Lucy loved Archenland and its people, and in return the people loved the good, kind, merry, energetic, and very lovable Queen of Narnia. I grinned cheekily as I imagined the reaction I would get when I announced to Anvard that I was courting their favorite foreign Queen. The monarchy would never be more popular.
I slowed my steed further to a slow walk as we approached the mountains. At this time of year, the peaks were covered in spring garb, the bare rock covered with grass, shrubbery, and wildflowers, inviting Archenlanders across the land to leave their troubles behind and take the high roads to the mountains for a spring getaway. With no one around for miles except my fine horse, I indulged myself in a guilty pleasure and broke out in a vibrant up-tempo old folk song.
I love thee well, ye Archen braes
Where oft times I've been cheery
I love thee well, ye Archen braes
For it's there I found my dearie…
My singing voice did not sound half-bad this day, if my own opinion was not too biased. Then again, nothing on this day was half-bad – how could it be? As my stallion and my singing self made our way past shrub-covered boulders, I made a mental note to take Lucy to the mountains when she came back to Archenland, as I continued to belt out the folk tune.
As I went down by Strichen town
I heard a fair maid call-
And that is when my peripheral vision caught a glimpse of an oncoming wooden staff swinging towards my head, wielded by a man who roared "TAKE HIM!"
Instincts kicked in, and I flattened myself against my steed with a shout of surprise, narrowly avoiding the fast-coming staff. To my dismay, my frightened horse then reared, throwing me off as if I were no more than a sack of wheat across its back. I landed hard, and my head bounced off the dirt road. Stunned and almost blacking out, I could see with blurry vision one man trying to pacify my horse and two more advancing rapidly toward where I lay. Blinking desperately to get the fuzz out of my vision, I noticed the man was armed with a pike and another with a broadsword. Oh, this is wonderful…
In spite of being dazed, I somehow got to my feet, whipped my sword from its sheath and stumbled back until my backside hit a boulder. My attackers slowed their pace, their companion still trying to calm my horse. The pike-wielder feinted in with the pike, which I batted away with my blade, while the other circled around to the right, looking for an opening to skewer me on his weapon.
I was dead. Three men, rather muscular by the looks of it, against myself. The odds were not good. In a moment of (quite literal) scatter-brained irony, I could almost see my epitaph – Here lies Corin of Archenland, killed by three highwaymen. He was a good la-
"ON 'EM, LADS!" came another roar, as five other men suddenly appeared in view from the rocks, springing on to the road. Two of them gang-tackled the unfortunate man holding my horse's reins while the remaining three quickly advanced on my two assailants, who instantly pivoted to meet this new, immediate threat.
The fight began almost immediately. I remained firmly planted up against the boulder, sword in hand while still trying to erase the cobwebs from my head caused by my inglorious fall off my horse. I was most definitely NOT taking sides until I figured out what in Calormen's blazes was going on. That beside, I was in no position to do any fighting of any kind just yet. Despite my best efforts, my equilibrium finally failed and I collapsed to the sod as nausea swept over me. I lay there motionless for what seemed like ages, a perfect target for anyone willing to take a killing shot, until the nausea subsided and the fog lifted, and I was able to regain my feet.
I did just that, my sword firmly in grasp, and took in the scene around me. I must have been incapacitated for nigh on several minutes, as my three assailants had been disarmed, bound, and were seated on the ground, surrounded by my five…what were they? My rescuers? I had never seen any of these men before, had no idea of their intent and no reason to trust any of them. I was about to say something until one of the five stepped forward towards me. A scruffy-looking red-haired chap, dressed in standard mountaineer clothing (then again, I was the only one NOT dressed in standard mountaineer clothing), a good deal taller and bigger than myself with a longknife in his hand, and that fact led me to raise my sword to my chest. I would have told him to back away, but he spoke first.
"Prince Corin o' Archenland." It was not a question, merely a blunt statement, made with a thick mountaineer accent.
The fact that these rough-and-tumble peasants knew who I was did not exactly sooth my consternation, but I saw no use for remaining silent any longer. "Aye, Corin's my name and Prince of Archenland I am." My blade was still up, my eyes switching from one man to the other, watching their every move. "Who's wants to know?"
The five rough-looking men looked at each other, looked back at me, glanced at their three prisoners, glanced at each other again, back at me, and so on until the one who appeared to be the leader dropped his knife to the sod. His next action surprised me the most – he went down on one knee, soon followed by his companions. "We be loyal subjects o' the Crown, Prince Corin, an' now yer loyal followers!"
Oh. I…wasn't expecting this.
My astonishment aside at this new turn of events, I finally found my voice. "For the love of the mountains, man, regain your feet! And can SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT IS GOING ON?!"
The five men glanced at each other as they clambered up off the road, none of them willing to volunteer information. I was about to voice my impatience when the knife-wielder (who had retrieved his weapon from the dirt) spoke up softly. "I could tell ya, yer Highness…but I'd much rather have ye come wi' us so we could show ya."
This was followed by a long pause. "And them?" I finally asked, motioning towards the three sullen prisoners.
"If ye be comin' wi' us, they be comin' wi' us," was the reply, which was accompanied by muffled curses from the three incapacitated captives. "So are ye comin' wi' us?"
I should have said no. I REALLY should have said no. I should have turned them down and continued on to Anvard – should have turned them down flat…..
…..but I did not, for two reasons – the first being that I saw nothing but honesty in the leader's eyes, and against my better judgment was becoming increasingly intrigued.
And secondly, I was Prince Corin.
Enough said.
So following a short pause after the red-bearded giant had asked, "…so are ye comin' wi' us?", I sheathed my sword and replied "Alright then, lead the way," and against all conventional wisdom followed them further into the mountains of Archenland.
…
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Lucy's POV
Two days earlier…
I ran, light-footed and light-hearted, into Peter's quarters without bothering to knock or even announce myself. Thankfully, my brother was decent.
"I'm going to Archenland, brother dearest! Perhaps I should have gone with them, but I SO dearly want to surprise Corin! Please tell me I can?!" I begged my oldest brother, waltzing around his chamber floor as I spoke.
Peter's eyes twinkled as he sat at his chamber desk, watching my every twirl. "Has a sixteen-year-old Archenland prince truly made my sister so gay?" he laughed. "But of course – I don't mind, and neither will anyone else. Far be it from any of the Cair Paravel population to stand in the way of new-found love!"
"Oh Peter, you're the best!" I stopped twirling long enough to plant a grateful kiss on his cheek. "I'll return in a fortnight…maybe."
"Will it be by land or by sea?"
"By sea!" as I resumed my impromptu dance across his chambers. "It's been so long since I've traveled by sea! The wind is up, the weather is perfect for quick sailing southward, and I shall arrive in Anvard sooner than if I traveled by land – and I can stay longer too! But I'll only be a fortnight in Anvard, dear brother." I slowed down to peck his cheek again and caught him rolling his eyes, "Give or take."
Peter chuckled. "I'm sure you will. Give my regards to Cor – and Lune, if he's arrived by then."
"I will."
"And don't get too frisky with Corin."
"I won't – yet. Next time, though…" I giggled again, sounding like a silly schoolgirl. Peter rolled his eyes (again) and chuckled at my antics. His eyes never left me, even as I stopped my dancing and leaned out his wide-open chamber window to look out over the seaport of Cair Paravel. I could faintly hear fisherman hawking their wares and latest catch, and if one could squint, they could see sailors of all different species scrubbing the decks of the several dozen vessels in the harbor, which made me all the more impatient to leave.
"Do you love him, Lu?" I glanced back at my still-grinning brother, though I could hear the seriousness behind his query. At that moment, I was grateful for Peter's gentle caring and looking after me, and I loved him for it. After a moment's thought, I answered honestly and truthfully.
"I believe I do, Peter." I looked back outside the window and the bustling activity. "After all these years of befriending him and knowing him inside and out, after all we've been through together, after all we've experienced as friends…it was as if I finally realized that this was the obvious end-result of it all, that the past twelve years of being the best of friends would naturally lead us to this point. Our love for each other has expanded and matured, and I believe, as does Corin…" and I turned away from the outside world and met my brother's eyes. "I believe that Aslan has brought us together, and for that reason I couldn't be happier."
Peter slowly nodded, mulling over what I had said. Finally he smiled again. "Then Aslan's will be done, in love and romance as it is in everything else." He stood, crossed the room, and enveloped his much-shorter sister in his arms. I hugged him back tightly, cherishing the moment spent with my idolized older brother. After a precious moment, he released me. "Enough talk. Don't you have a love-struck Archenland prince to make eyes at in Anvard? Get thee to the docks!" He laughed as I squealed in delight, throwing my arms around his neck again and planting another kiss on his cheek. "I love you, dearest brother!" I cried as I raced from his chamber to my rooms, where the maids had begun to pack my bags. "I love you too, little sister," he replied, chuckling and shaking his head at my larking about the palace.
Had I tarried a few seconds, I would have heard him mutter to himself "…and if Corin of Archenland ever doubts the love this brother has for his sister, it will be the worse for him."
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Corin's POV
To be a mountaineer (Archenlander or no Archenlander), one must have patience in spades. Trekking across mountain country is undoubtedly one of the most tedious and slow-moving ventures one can partake in. Riding my steed was nigh impossible in the highland terrain, so I led him by the reins as I walked and stumbled my way across Archenland's mountain ranges alongside five peasant men and three tightly-bound and very dour prisoners. For nine hours (non-stop) and with little to no dialogue with anyone, we tramped deeper into the highlands.
Toward the end of the sixth hour, the tall, red-haired, red-bearded peasant (who I could now easily see was the leader of the small band) slowed his pace to match mine. "I should have told ye long before now, Yer Highness, but my name be Arn."
Finally we were getting somewhere. I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my reply and willingly failed. "Indeed. That's good to know. I already know I don't have to tell you my name – but in the interest of full disclosure, may I finally learn why I was requested to join you on this fascinating 'quest' after being attacked – and rescued – by men I've never seen before in my life?"
I could have sworn I saw a half-smile creep over the features of the towering man beside me. "Yer questions will all be answered, Prince Corin, by those who are much better at answerin' them than I be."
"That figures. Can I least ask, Arn, who or what in the Lion's name are you?"
Arn was silent at first, saying nothing as we trudged our way onward, but finally responded. "We be simple men, common men, plain men." He tilted his head downward to look me in the eye. "But beyond all that, my liege, we be free men – an' we'll no' be givin' that up, even wi' our lives."
With that, Arn picked up his pace and left me slogging behind him, more confused than before. Though with his last words, a faint idea began formulating in the back corners of my mind as to what all this might be about – but I quickly quashed the thought. It was too fantastical. It could never happen. Not here, not now, not to me.
Our journey continued in relative silence for another three hours, covering more mountainous ground as the day turned to dusk. Judging by the setting of the sun, as well as by the blinking stars and now-observable constellations, I could tell we were moving southwest. At least I was getting closer to Anvard, if nothing else. "How much farther?" I called forward to Arn.
"No' long now," he replied without turning around.
Alright then.
Arn turned out to be truthful, at least. We soon came to the bend of a foothill, and as we came around it, an encampment came into full view in the valley before us. I nearly gasped at the sight of it – it was spread over a large area of ground, with dozens (it appeared) of campfires lighting the evening sky. Makeshift tents were spread everywhere, horses were being watered and fed – even from a distance, I could make out women stirring ladles in cooking pots over a fire, could even see what looked to be children at play. There were hundreds of people easily, if not thousands. Yet this was no city or even town, nor had we arrived at a nobleman's estate – we were deep in the heart of Archenland's mountains, where civilized life was all but absent. I must admit I was not overly surprised – I had given up expecting normality several hours prior.
As we approached, we were quickly noticed by several men (also peasants, by the look of them) who appeared to be acting as sentries. Casual greetings turned into gapes of surprise when the first sentry passed a burning torch in front of my face and Arn affirmed that yes, that was truly Prince Corin of Archenland himself. Shocked silence turning into shouts of what I fervently hoped was glee. Several men turned tail and tore at high speeds into the camp, shouting at the top of their lungs the news of my arrival.
I glanced up at Arn. "This had better be good." Or at least not bad.
I got the half-smile again. "Come," he motioned, striding head-long into the camp. One of his companions took the reins of my steed from my hands, while the others led away the bound captives to whatever destination awaited them. I sighed, silently prayed that I had made the right decision nine hours ago, and followed after the hulking peasant.
They turned out in droves to see me. As I followed close behind Arn, the camp people – men, women, and children alike – crowded in on either side of us and watched us pass. Some were slack-jawed, as if not believing that I was actually present, while a few of the bolder ones reached out to touch my shoulders and arms, as if not believing their own eyes. Regardless of the individual, each of their expressions carried with it a sense of apprehension. Needless to say, I was confused at their reaction, and hoped that Arn was leading me to a place where I could finally discover the meaning of all this.
"'Tis Prince Corin!" "He's here!" "I'd not thought it possible…" The hushed yet fervent whispers swirled all around me. I still had nary an idea what was taking place, as I followed Arn deeper inside the encampment, but there was one lesson I had learned about diplomacy: When in doubt, make friends. If these people were thrilled to see me, I might as well return the favor. When the next brave chap reached in to touch my shoulder, I gently grasped his hand and gave him a shake and a grin. The crowd seemed to simultaneously catch their breath and some even stepped back, but I released the young man's hand and raised my hand in a general salute, still smiling.
That was all it took. A spontaneous "huzzah!" came from the voices of hundreds all around me, and they surged in to greet me. "Prince Corin! Prince Corin! Prince Corin!" came from all sides, and I was quickly caught up in the euphoria of it all. I reached out and grasped every hand I could, making eye contact with every man, woman, and child (they seemed to converge on me by the hundreds) in front of me – all the while trying to keep up with Arn, who was now sporting a full smile. We made our way to the center of the camp with an entourage of what had to be nearly a thousand people. I still had no idea what all of this was about, but suffice to say I was now much more assured of my personal safety than I had been an hour ago.
After a time, Arn halted before one of the tents, said loudly, "Alright, ye've all had yer excitement for the evenin'. Let the royal lad through." The peasants before me moved aside, and I looked up to see a man (of whom I would guess was in his forties) standing next to Arn, just outside the most expansive tent I had seen all night.
The man grinned. "Well done," he said, not to me, but to Arn.
This man seemed to be in authority, though upon closer inspection I could see that he too was of peasant stock. Nonetheless, I stood tall, straightened my sword belt, and waited – thankfully, not for long.
"Prince Corin, I presume?"
I inclined my head. "Present before you, good sir, and before your people. May I enquire as to your name, since you already know mine?"
The man knelt down and quickly touched his knee to the sod before rising to face me. "My name is Arran, my liege, and I speak for all of us here – we are most happy you are here with us."
At least I had a name and the knowledge this man was a loyal Archenlander. "That I can see, by the generous and most appreciated welcome these people have given me. I must confess, however, that the events of today are most puzzling…"
Arran nodded, turning to the entrance of his tent. "I can explain all, Your Highness," he motioned inside. I accepted his invitation, and ducked inside. Arran followed suit, with Arn right behind.
In spite of the impressive size of this particular pavilion, it was rather bare on the inside, with merely several cots and an iron trunk chest set next to a wooden table, which was squarely in the center of the tent. On the table was a map of Archenland, which I immediately scrutinized, trying to ascertain our location. Sure enough, an X was marked in an area of the mountains northeast of Anvard, and judging by the particular location I was rather sure it indicated our position. Judging by the map (and it appeared to be accurate), I was roughly three days hard ride from the very gates of Anvard.
"Did it turn out as we thought?" I looked up at Arran's question, but saw it was addressed to Arn.
"Aye," came the response from the giant peasant.
"Prisoners? Dressed as we are?" Another query from Arran.
Arn nodded, but his expression was grim. "Aye an' aye. Ye were right to think it."
Arran was also frowning. "Glad to see him safe," here he motioned at me, "but with Kollin in Anvard and now the assassination attempt, how far will he go now?"
Kollin? "My apologies, good sirs," I cut in, "but are you referring to Lord Kollin, Member of Parliament?"
"One and the same," said Arran, as Arn nodded.
Now I seriously was confused. "And…..what does Lord Kollin, MP, have to do with myself, yourselves, and this…encampment deep in the heart of Archenland's mountains?"
Arn let out a bark of laughter. "How much time do ye have?"
I gave the hulking peasant a pointed look. "That depends if I'm a guest here or a prisoner."
"You are most certainly not our prisoner, Your Highness," Arran said quickly. "We'd much rather have you as our champion."
Champion? If I had been confused before, my confusion had just doubled. My gaze went from Arran to Arn and back again several times. "In that case," I said after a long pause, "I have all the time in the world."
Arran cleared his throat. "Then I should probably begin..." With one last glance at Arn, Arran began his tale – and what a tale it was, as I soon discovered…
"Both I and Arn were tenants – serfs, more like it – on the (very expansive) estates of Lord Kollin, MP. By trade, I'm a blacksmith, and am employed as chief blacksmith on the estate. Arn is chief forester for Kollin, and quite skilled at his craft. We are both married men – in addition I have a daughter, while Arn has only his wife. We have been friends for some years now. My personal education isn't much, but is more than the average blacksmith. In fact, it was I who taught Arn and his wife to read and write, as they have never been educated. Our families spend much time and do many things together, and we wouldn't have it any other way."
"To understand life on Kollin's estates, you must understand the caste system that Kollin has in place. As you know, Kollin's estates are in the remote regions of the country, and in that sense are apart from many other estates. As a result, Kollin has been able to arrange life on his property (away from the public eye) as he sees fit. At the top is Kollin himself. He has never married (though a number of mistresses have passed through his door) and has no children that he knows of or recognizes. On the 2nd tier are Kollin's retainers and men-at-arms. Being a former soldier himself, Kollin treats his personal militia with higher regard than he treats his other tenants – even and often at the cost of his other tenants. If they require food beyond what they have in store, they take it from the 3rd tier – which is everyone else on Kollin's estates, including Arn, his wife, myself, my wife, my daughter, and hundreds upon hundreds upon hundreds of others who are unfortunate to be his serfs. If they require wine or strong spirits beyond what they have in store, they take it from us. If they" and here Arran paused, appearing to slightly lose his composure, "if they require women, Kollin provides them with women from any household unlucky enough to fall under his gaze." I could not help but notice that Arn's face darkened as he nodded his assent to everything his friend was saying. Arran continued on, "Many times his armed retainers will force their way into various huts and take wives and daughters at will. All this we have borne silently. 'Til now."
Arran paused here, and took a long drink from a water pouch that was hanging from his belt. I had listened silently up to this point, and took the opportunity to voice an obvious question. "You say 'til now'. What was the final straw?"
Arran met my eyes with a gaze of steel, and I realized for the first time that this man, though appearing at first to be ordinary and harmless, could be quite intimidating to anyone unlucky enough to be his enemy. "The final straw was the evening they came for my daughter."
I held his gaze. "Dare I ask what happened?"
Arn answered this time. "Three men-at-arms came to his hut to claim his daughter for their sport an' pleasure. 'Twixt me an' Arran, none left alive."
With that admission, a clearer picture of what was going on deep in the Archenland highlands began to form. I slowly nodded as Arran continued. "This was two weeks ago." The length of time we were in Narnia, I thought to myself. "Word of what had occurred spread quickly that night across the main estate, and long-suppressed emotions boiled over. Before Arn and I could come to grips with what we had done, Kollin's men-at-arms had barricaded themselves inside Lord Kollin's Keep alongside Kollin himself and his retainers, and angry tenants were practically besieging the Keep."
"So why are you here, deep in the mountains, instead of there? And what became of Kollin?"
Arran ran his fingers through his hair before answering. "I foolishly tried to seize the advantage too quickly by giving the order to storm the Keep. Our friends and neighbors are common workers, not fighters, and the men-at-arms easily repulsed our assault. We took a number of casualties – and while Arn and I tried to assess the damage done, Kollin's men sallied out, and we barely beat them back inside the Keep. We lost many a good man that night, and we knew the rest of us (and our families) would be massacred if they sallied out again and gained the upper hand. The remaining men looked to me as their leader, since I had started the whole thing, so I gave the order to flee the estate. We did, and Arn led us here. We've been here for just over a week now, and by Aslan's mercy have not been found by Kollin and his men. We're fairly certain Kollin is presently in Anvard, since Parliament is back in session and he would want to use the opportunity to build alliances in case our uprising backfires in his face. That is where matters stand now." With that, Arran pulled forward a wooden chair to the table with the map, and took a seat. Arn followed suit, and both men looked up expectantly at me, undoubtedly waiting for Arran's tale to settle in.
Needless to say, it took a minute to fully digest what I had heard, and I quickly realized my initial inkling (as I was trudging after Arn toward my present location) had proved correct. Insurrection. Revolution. Rebellion. Yes, it was happening. It was happening here, and I was in the middle of it. I took a deep breath, resting my fists on the map-table. "You tell me a tale of woe and injustice. I know of Kollin and his lack of character – but never would I expect a knight of the realm, a Member of Parliament, to act in such a manner toward his own tenants."
Arn let out a short bark of laughter. "Neither did we, 'til it happened long since."
I glanced at Arran. "The question remains, though – what do I have to do with this? Why would Kollin target me, if he did as you claim - and why do you want me here, and as your champion?"
Arran and Arn glanced at each other, and I swore I heard Arn mutter under his breath "aye, now it begins…" before Arran faced me again, "I was in Anvard the day you addressed Parliament, my liege."
That definitely got my attention. "I was there to serve Lord Kollin under his orders as a temporary retainer, a replacement for a man-at-arms who had fallen ill the day before Kollin left for Anvard. As your Royal Highness well knows, the official transcript of your address to Parliament was copied a hundredfold and made its way throughout the city like wildfire. As with thousands of others that day, I read what you had said and how you had spoken truth to one of the greatest powers in the kingdom, and..." and here he paused, looking down to the earth before meeting my eyes again, "forgive me if this sounds foolish or simple-minded or overly dramatic, but I knew if I ever had the chance to follow such an Archenland Prince, I would do so, even if it led to my death."
It was my turn to eye the ground. In spite of the seriousness of the predicament these men - and now myself - currently found themselves in, I could see the sincerity in Arran's eyes and felt abashed by it - felt unworthy, even, to be the object of any sort of deep feeling and loyalty. "You were born into privilege and royalty, my liege," as Arran continued on, "and so you perhaps don't understand or realize the significance of what you did on that day. But to the peasant man, adrift in Kollin's world of uncertainty at best and plain exploitation at worst, your words were like a beacon shining in the night across the rocky shores of our country. Your words gave me hope, and caused me to believe that under the great Lion, all men - not just the privileged and powerful - have natural rights and liberties. For the first time..." and here Arran stopped, and I could see the emotion in his eyes that momentarily robbed him of his voice "for the first time, I believed, and I believed because of you."
"He made us all believe in ye." This from Arn. "That's why we knew we had to save ye from the clutches o' Kollin's men."
I instantly seized on that. "About that - you are convinced those three men are Kollin's men, sent to lie in wait for me?"
"Quite, I recognized them as Kollin's men-at-arms..." growled Arn as Arran quickly explained the rest."Four days after we made our encampment here, several young men who took it upon themselves to be our scouts did us - and you - a great service by capturing one of Kollin's riders. He was carrying dispatches, and among them we found this."
Arran stood and went to a cot that I presumed was his and pulled out a parchment from a stack. "This is what we found," as he handed the document to me for my perusal. What I read turned my blood cold.
To G.
Your recommendation has been received, and will be acted upon. Word is that the royal convoy is making its way south; no doubt Corin will be among them, and an unfortunate accident could very well befall him that would prohibit him from reaching the capitol alive - which will no doubt make the chief quite happy.
J.
My blood, once cold, now boiled over, and I furiously crumpled the parchment, hurled it across the pavilion, and slammed my fists on the table. Arran and Arn both remained quite as I breathed heavily in an attempt to calm myself. After a time, I looked up at Arran. "I get the basic gist of what they attempted: Three men, dressed as the same mountaineer peasants currently in rebellion against a certain MP we all know, trying to kidnap Prince Corin for ransom or as a bargaining chip, but ended up killing him instead – thus giving Kollin the perfect scapegoat and allowing him to wipe you and your people out with little to no complaint and hiding the reasons for this armed outbreak against him, while also allowing him to take revenge for his political defeat and humiliation at my hands several months ago. Makes perfect sense, and by Aslan if he didn't nearly pull it off!"
Arran nodded slowly. "Precisely what we were thinking."
"And the captured rider - what of him?."
Arran grimaced. "He escaped the following day." Judging by the look on Arn's face, that was still a sore spot for the large mountaineer.
"Hmm...well, it is what it is." That was that, so I went on. "Explain the rest of it for me, though. Who is 'G.', who is 'J', and is Kollin 'the chief'?"
Arn was the one who answered. "Methinks 'J' is Jod, man-at-arms fer Kollin an' the ringleader o' the men we apprehended tryin' to assassinate yer Royal Highness earlier today. Methinks 'G' is Godwin, former soldier – ruffian, more like – and hired bodyguard o' Kollin who is the head o' his security detail in Anvard an' is there wi' him now."
"We don't know for certain if Kollin is 'the chief', though we don't know who else it would be. We also believe that the 'recommendation' is your assassination." Arran broke in. "On both accounts, even if that is the truth, we have no way of proving it."
"Indeed we don't, beyond circumstantial evidence." It was my turn to run my fingers through my hair. Then the obvious dawned on me. "By the Mane, good fellows - you saved my life this day, based on a hunch, and I have not even offered you so much as a condescending by-word of thanks!" I was genuinely abashed. "I owe you my life, dear sirs, and for that I will forever be in your debt. I will pay it back to you as best I can, or my name is not Corin of Archenland."
Arn and Arran glanced at each other, grinning ear to ear. "You came with Arn, my liege, to hear us out on our tale of misfortune," said Arran. "That is as much as we hoped for."
"Is it?" I asked plainly, looking from the blacksmith to the red-haired giant of a forester and back again. "Because I hardly believe, with all that has happened to you and your people over the past two weeks - and indeed, to myself on this day - that it merely can end here, that it merely WILL end here." I shook my head vigorously. "Nay, my good men, something must be done. That is why Aslan has willed that I be here this night, deep in the heart of the highlands. What would you have me do?"
The pause that followed stretched out for ages. Arran finally spoke after some time, his eyes cast downward at my feet. "We can't - and won't - keep your Highness here any longer than you desire, and we know that our standing as peasants hardly allows us to demand royal favors from the son of the King." At this, he tentatively raised his eyes and once more met my steady gaze. "But I hoped, with all my strength, that the Prince who boldly stood against Kollin once for the rights of his people could maybe - just maybe - have the good favor to remember us well before Anvard again."
"Aye, an' afore Kollin wipes us out..." Arn muttered behind him.
I held Arran's gaze for a long moment. "And if I choose to ride to Anvard and do nothing and say nothing for your cause, but rather forget that I was ever here? What will you do then?"
"My liege is well within his rights to do so," came the response of a blacksmith-turned-insurrectionist resigned to his fate. "As for us, we will hold out here until Kollin and his retainers find us. Beyond that, since we are at a disadvantage in every way except numbers, I hold out little hope for our survival. Kollin is not likely to forgive and forget, not after what we've done. Not after the embarrassment we've caused him and his men."
Of that truth, I did not doubt. Even I knew now that Kollin was perfectly capable (in temperament and character) of ordering a slaughter of this entire encampment if he was so inclined - and his men-at-arms would be well-armed trained killers going up against blacksmiths, foresters, farmers, hunters, fishermen, and common tenants who knew next-to-nothing of professional warfare. Every man and boy who dared stand up against him would die - and their fate, compared with the fate of the women and girls left alive, could be comparatively merciful, if Arran was to be believed. Arran knew this, Arn knew this, and both men appeared to accept the fate of those who had followed them.
But the real question at hand was, would I accept their fate? Would I sit back and allow this travesty of justice (which was an affront to Aslan if ever there was one) to go unchallenged? I had taken on Kollin once, and had emerged victorious - but the old lord and MP, who was admittedly a powerful man with powerful connections, would no doubt be ready for me now. He had been ready to kill me once, and his men had tried and nearly succeeded on this day. He would no doubt be more than willing to try it again, even if the power and letter of the law stood against him.
I had risked my life once already just a fortnight ago, on the sandy lists of Cair Paravel. I had gained the love of the one person I desired more than any other human in this domain or any other domain. Why would I risk my life after such an accomplishment? Why would I risk everything I had just gained? Why would I risk losing Lucy Pevensie, with whom I was on the verge of deep abiding happiness - why should I risk everything for this, and for people to whom I owed nothing?
"Because you do owe them something, Corin," I murmured to myself. Almost without realizing it, I had turned my back on the two men and had slowly walked to the front of the pavilion where, lost in thought, I stood gazing out at the night sky. The crowd of people who had greeted me by the hundreds had long since dispersed and (I assumed) had sought much-needed slumber. "You owe them your life."
I was not blind to the potential consequences. Though the spirit of Archenland law protected peasants from mistreatment, the letter of the law could condemn these people as outlaws and highwaymen, while the court of public opinion, if turned against them, could judge them unworthy of a hearing and call for this rising of tenants to be put down with the sword and their heads placed on pikes. This was not child's play - this was civil war, if it went too far out of hand. Even if the rebelling tenants somehow miraculously defeated Kollin and his thugs, other lords and barons would answer Kollin's call (and/or bribery), and the bloodshed would continue. Archenlander would strive with Archenlander, and the blood of one man would be shed by his fellow countrymen. Such an outcome, for one like me who loved Archenland and its people with all my soul, would be more than I could bear.
To add on top of all that, the implications of a prince being caught up in all this was uncharted legal territory, though I was sure (if the uprising went down in defeat) it would not end well for me or anyone else involved with Arran and Arn.
When the time comes, know this – true love is not in words. It manifests itself in deeds, in actions. It shows itself to the poor and lowly in the form of the high and powerful. To show true love, one must be courageous and willing to fight for those he loves, even when others question him. Remember this, when the time comes for you to act on it.
And with that memory, shoved to the forefront of my brooding mind, Aslan stopped me in my tracks and set my mind right.
Again, my Lord? Must I risk all and strive again, that the will of the Lion might be done on this earth?
No answer, silent or spoken, came to me. It was as if I had answered my own question, and Aslan had already reminded me of what I needed to know. For a long moment, my will raged against the will of the Lion, and no one in the entire encampment that night could have understood what it cost me to finally capitulate to Aslan once again. "Mine is not to question why, mine is but to do or die," I whispered under my breath. And with that, and in the same way as I had experienced on the lists of Cair Paravel facing Tinuviel's wrath, I felt His peace.
My mind, with Aslan's grace, was set. "Arn," I said, still facing the night sky away from the two men behind me, "what are our numbers? How many men capable of fighting do we have?"
I could imagine the red-bearded forester behind me being taken aback at the question. "I-uh-be no' certain. We have steadily grown, methinks, wi' the numbers from Kollin's estates an' those o' the neighborin' lands who have joined o'er the fortnight as the word spread around..."
"How many fighting men, Arn?" I repeated, still facing away from him.
I heard the giant of a man scratching his head. "Methinks nigh on two thousand in number, most likely more?"
"That will have to do for now. What have we for weapons, Arran?"
It was Arran's turn to stutter, not expecting the conversation to take this course. "Well-I-I would say a perhaps a hundred swords, the same number in spears, the same number still in pikes, and several hundred wooden shields - not to mention farm implements that have been used as weapons."
"You being a blacksmith, can you make more out of what you have to work with here? Do you have tools and the like?"
I could almost feel Arran beginning to smile with hopeful anticipation. "We didn't set up this expansive encampment with just our bare hands, your Highness. I've got tools to spare, manpower a-plenty, and more than enough raw materials to work with. It will be crude and pretty much all hewed out of wood, but it will be sharp and capable."
"Good," I said firmly, as I rested my hand on the hilt of my sheathed sword, "for we will need them. All day tomorrow, that is what I want you to do. Swords, pikes, spears, more shields, even bows and arrows if you can make it work - that is your task for tomorrow, and tomorrow is the only day you have to get it done."
"Why is that, my liege?" This from a now-confused Arran.
Now I turned to face both men. "You said I made you believe once, Arran." I held his gaze firmly. "And now I will make you believe again." I took one last look back outside the pavilion, at the stars that blazed brightly across the Archenland night sky, before turning back to the two waiting men. "Because on the day after tomorrow, my fellow Archenlanders," as I looked from forester to blacksmith and back again. Arn must have guessed what I was about to say, for his face went slack-jawed before I spoke another word. "On the day after tomorrow, we march on Anvard!"
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Lucy's POV
Six days later…
It was smooth sailing the entire way. As desirous as I was to arrive in Anvard and see Corin, I asked the skipper of my personal seafaring vessel (a present Edmund had constructed for me on my 15th birthday) to take it slow as we turned west into the Winding Arrow River. The scenic view, from the rugged Archenland mountains to our right and the rolling, picturesque desert that formed the border between Archenland and the Calormene Empire to our left, was simply too beautiful to pass by quickly.
Taking the advice of Stak, the First Mate (who, incidentally, also happened to be a squirrel – a truly unique creature for such a position, even in a Narnian fleet), I finally went below to my quarters to take a rest around an hour or two after midnight. I had hardly slept on the voyage southward, excited to see Corin and still not yet truly awake to the fact that he and I were royal lovers. How the crew remained sane and alert during my dreamy flitting about the deck during our voyage showed their incredible patience and forbearance. I was lying on my cot, thinking of ways to reward them once we were back in Narnia, as I drifted off to sleep.
I awakened to Stak's call of "Port ahead!" and knew that we were most likely approaching Carlingford, which was one of two river towns within light traveling distance of Anvard (the other being the neighboring Greenore). Stak himself confirmed it as he bounded down the galley stairs to tell me. "Approaching Carlingford now, milady" he proclaimed as I yawned and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. "Oh, and it appears you have someone here to welcome you already!"
Though still drowsy, that news half-wakened me on its own. "Who is it, pray tell?"
Stak grinned. "Seeing as not many Calormene ladies are on this side of the river, I would have to assume it's Lady Aravis herself, your Majesty!"
It was Aravis, indeed. I squealed with delight to see her and waved eagerly before disembarking. She laughed softly, and waved in return – though I noticed her greeting was not of the exuberant sort I had come to expect of her. I thought little of it, though, and went to her with open arms. "I know it's only been three weeks, but I am SO happy to see you again! But you must tell me: Who gave away our secret arrival?"
Aravis laughed, but I could not help noticing it was a mild laugh and in her eyes was a sort of…..nervousness. "It does my heart good to see you again so soon, dear friend. We only arrived in Anvard two days hence, but several of our deep sea fishing vessels saw your ship on its journey and reported it the Admiralty, who then had the news waiting for us when we arrived. Cor asked me to come greet you in person."
"And he's a dear for doing so – though to what do I owe the unexpected pleasure? I've normally always met you all at Anvard Keep with my retainers, and I certainly never want to pull you away from your home just to escort me back to it? Not that I mind at all, it is lovely to see you."
Aravis tried, but failed to hide what seemed to me to be a look of fear in her eyes – indeed, she cast her eyes down, and I immediately knew something was wrong. "My dear Aravis, what is it? Something is wrong, I can tell. Do tell me," I exclaimed as I took her hands in mine.
Aravis met my eyes, and I instantly saw a look of concern and worry in her. "It's Corin, Lucy," and my heart skipped a beat. "He arrived at Anvard only this morning, and currently is encamped outside the north walls."
Needless to say, I was greatly confused. "He hasn't entered the city?"
"Not at all, nor has he tried to."
"Why? Has he given a reason?"
Aravis shook her head. "None, and we have as yet been unable to question him." Her eyes appeared ready to spill over with tears, and I felt a dread come over me. "What is it, Aravis? What has happened? Tell me, I must know," I whispered.
Aravis looked me in the eyes, and I knew her next words would not be good to hear. "You must be strong, Lucy," she said softly, "and so must we all in this time of confusion. The plain fact of the matter is, though I can hardly believe it," and here she paused before continuing, and my heart nearly stopped at what she said next. "when Corin arrived outside Anvard's north walls this morning, it was at the head of an army!"
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Corin's POV
Two days earlier…
"This be madness."
That was roughly the thousandth time (give or take a few hundred) I had heard the huge mountaineer walking next to me say those words. I gave a slight sardonic grin without facing him from my saddle. "Yet here you are," I retorted light-heartedly.
"Aye, here I be…" Arn muttered.
Madness or not, things in general had gone quite well in the past few days. The rebel "army" (if one could refer to it by that title) had broken camp five days ago, heading for Anvard. The day before that, Arran and his men (who answered his call by the hundreds) had been brilliant in their duties, outfitting every able man with hand-made weaponry at a rate that left me quite impressed. He had been right, as well – the spears, pikes, shields, swords, and clubs that they had prepared by the dozens per hour were crude and by-and-large all wooden, but they were indeed sharpened nigh to perfection and capable for a fight. Every man, old and young, was outfitted to fight in one way or another – though I prayed mightily to the Lion that any fighting would be avoided, and did so constantly throughout our trek towards the capitol city.
We had taken the roads less traveled in our journey, the highways not exceedingly used in this part of the country as we trekked southeastward towards our destination, not wanting to attract any sort of unnecessary attention before reaching Anvard. As Dar and Darrin were fond of saying in the Army officer cadet classes (myself having attended as a visitor several times), "Having the advantage of surprise is never a bad thing."
The numerous small villages and towns that we passed through received us with an air of cautious awe – which was understandable, seeing as it was not every day that a prince of Archenland appeared on your doorstep at the head of a peasant army. Once they had heard Arran's tale (and I made sure the insurgent leader took every opportunity to declare his version of events which had led to the insurrection), their caution turned to wrath, and more than a few angry Archenland men had kissed his wife and children goodbye to follow Prince Corin to Anvard. By the time we began approaching the outskirts of the capitol, we had (by my reckoning, give or take) nearly a thousand volunteers who had joined our peasant band, bringing our numbers up to three thousand armed men – not counting the thousands of women and children traveling with us.
"Nice speech." I told Arran, as we led our growing column out of the last village between us and Anvard. He merely grinned in response. "I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but your words seem to indicate you've been rather well-educated, more so than the average blacksmith."
Arn nodded. "My father," he said softly. "He was educated himself to a high degree, and he taught me all he could. He had such high hopes for me, hopes that I could be more than a blacksmith. I don't think this" and he motioned behind him with a chuckle "was what he had in mind, however."
There was much I could have asked in response to that, but I could tell the man walking next to me was not eager to volunteer more information on his family history. Instead, I also motioned behind me. "Several thousand men, women, and children followed your lead into the mountains to escape tyranny. Not many men can say that during their lifetime. To be trusted to that degree is high praise in its own right."
Arran shook his head. "They were determined from the start under my lead, but they have hope now."
"Now? Why now?" I asked.
Arran gave me a sidelong stare and smirked. "Is it not obvious, my liege? It's you! You are at our head (not me), leading us to Anvard so the country can know our plight. What other reason do we need, for aye?"
My face must have turned red, for Arran cracked a wider grin, in spite of the seriousness of our endeavor. "One would think they could find a better reason than that…" I murmured.
"No, 'tis true," Arran replied. "We had little to no hope before Arn brought you to us, myself most of all. Now we have it in spades. Come the End of All Things or the devil Tash himself from the cursed South, the men of Archenland will follow their Prince to Anvard. On that, my liege, you can safely believe."
I, Prince Corin, submit to a candid world: Such is the mettle of the men of Archenland.
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Lucy's POV
My retainers remained outside in the courtyard of Anvard Keep as Aravis ushered me into the dining hall. Entering, I saw Cor seated at the end of the long dining table, his shoulders slumped with his head in his hands. Looking up to see me, he managed a soft (though sad-looking) smile.
"My dear Queen Lucy," as he rose to embrace me, "it is always good to see our friends from the north. I just wish you were here in…less confusing times."
I took his hands in mine, trying to smile. "My dear Cor, you know you can address me as merely Lucy in private or informal circumstances. But enough small talk: Tell me, I pray you, of Corin?"
Cor sighed, and heavily. "Of Corin, I know very little of anything for sure. All I can say with certainty is that we arrived back in Anvard late last night, and awoke (later than normal) this morning to find my twin brother at the head of an army before the Northern Wall of our capitol city." The young Crown Prince of Archenland then ran his fingers through his hair, looking for all the world like the most defeated young man I had ever seen. Then he looked up. "Oh, and he has demanded that Lord Kollin present himself before his armed assembly outside of Anvard's walls by sunset."
Aravis gasped. "Kollin? Why him, of all men?"
"Again, I know not. My suspicion is, however," and he breathed in deeply before continuing, "that this has something to do with their quarrel last year before Parliament – though to what end, I haven't any idea." He turned towards me. "Do you know the story, Lucy?"
Of course I did. "All Narnia has heard the story, but what would those two have against each other now?"
"Once again, I haven't the faintest idea. Parliament, though – they are not short on ideas."
"What of Parliament?" This from Aravis.
"First off, they've locked me out."
Aravis gasped again, louder this time, and even though I did not know what Cor meant, I could see it was not welcome news. "What does that mean?" I asked, my understanding of Archenland law being quite deficient in this matter.
"It means that Parliament has taken legal steps to deny me any authority to rule on this matter in place of my father. Kollin's allies claim that I can't be trusted to act in Archenland's interests, since the principle character in this entire matter happens to be my twin brother. They voted, it passed, and I find myself stripped of any legal authority to make a ruling or challenge anything that Parliament chooses to do in the absence of the King. They have free reign to act as they choose, and there is nothing – legally – than I can do about it."
It was my turn to gasp. "Why? What reason do they have to assume incompetence or anything else in you on this matter?"
Cor laughed, and it sounded bitter. He went to the nearest chair, and practically slumped in it, his eyes gazing out the window at nothing. "What reasoning, indeed? Kollin has them whipped up in a frenzy. Conspiracies are running wild as to Corin's intentions, ranging from him being in the pay of Calormene Empire to this being a coup d'état attempt and he seeks to strike me down and secure the throne for his own before our father returns from Galma."
"Corin would never lift a finger against you or your father! You know that, Cor!" I exclaimed, indignant at the very suggestion.
"I know that. You know that. Aravis knows that. My father knows that. Your royal siblings know that. Anyone who knows Corin knows that. But try telling that to Parliament today, because they apparently don't know that." Cor shook his head and closed his eyes. "I'm at a loss, a total loss, on what to do. I don't know what my brother is trying to achieve or why he has taken this course of action, and I am powerless to help him – or stop him, Aslan forbid, if it comes to that."
There was nothing I could say to that. Against my wishes, I felt tears threatening my eyes as the helplessness that I knew Cor to be feeling began invading my mind as well. Aravis went to Cor and took his hands in hers, and though he looked up and smiled, I could see the hopelessness in his eyes. I could only imagine the same hopelessness in my own eyes as well.
At that moment, a servant I believed to be the butler entered the dining hall. "Lord Tallum from Parliament here to see you, your Royal Highness, and requests an immediate audience."
Cor looked nonplussed at first, then straightened in his chair. "Tallum, yes. From Parliament. By all means, send him in." As the butler disappeared, Cor looked to me. "Tallum is a long-time acquaintance of Corin's. He could have news."
I pondered for a moment. "I've heard his name from Corin. Isn't he Anvard's main boxing promoter?"
"Indeed, among other occupations, and an honest one on top of that."
A middle-aged man in chain-mail armor with a broadsword at his side strode into the hall. Coming halfway to Cor, he knelt down on one knee and inclined his head. "I would not have troubled you, my Prince, unless I thought it necessary."
Cor nodded in response. "Any loyal Archenlander is welcome in this Keep, Lord Tallum. What news do you bring?"
Tallum scowled as he rose to his feet. "Very little good, my liege. Parliament has all but ceded control of the city to Kollin. In response, that man has ordered the city gates locked and guarded by the City Guard, and no one is allowed to enter or exit the city. I know, I tried."
Cor's face darkened. "Kollin would make himself dictator of this city, would he? By the Mane, I shall see him answer for that when this is all finished!"
Tallum nodded grimly in response. "My sword is yours on that day, your Highness, if it comes to that." His tone of voice left us in no doubt as to his sincerity.
Cor inclined his head in acknowledgement, then took a closer look at the knight before him as his eyes narrowed. "And why do you come here, then, armed and in chain mail?"
"For no nefarious reason, I assure you," Tallum said quickly. "As I said before, I tried exiting the city through the Eastern Gate, my goal being to make contact with your royal brother and hear from his lips what his reasons are for this armed display outside our northern walls. My armor and sword were precautions, nothing more."
Cor nodded. "Quite understandable, please continue."
Tallum went on. "For reasons mentioned, I was not allowed to exit. When I demanded the reason, the captain on duty informed me of what Parliament (under Kollin's direction) had done. When I asked who then was allowed to come and go from the city, he said 'No one, on Parliament's order.' 'Is your loyalty to Kollin over your future King?' I thundered. He gave me no answer, and I turned on my heel and immediately made my way here."
Of all the things I had expected when journeying by sea to Archenland, being a virtual prisoner inside the capitol city was nowhere near the top of the list. I could only imagine that Cor and Aravis felt the same, especially since Anvard was their home and they had just returned from Narnia. "My retainers are lightly armed, but should I tell them to further outfit themselves from your armory?" I asked Cor.
"That might not be a half-bad idea, though I truly hate to admit it…" Archenland's Crown Prince sighed. "If only I believed it were completely unnecessary."
Tallum broke in. "With your permission, my liege?" Cor motioned his assent, and the knight continued. "The reason I instantly made my way here from the Eastern Gate was not due to the fact I was forbidden to leave, but rather because I saw a potential opportunity…" His voice faded from there.
Cor sat up straighter. "You intrigue me, speak on."
"It was his eyes, your Highness. When I asked the captain if he was loyal to Kollin over you, his eyes betrayed his uncertainty, and that is why I believe he didn't respond – not that he was unwilling to respond, but that he didn't know what response to give." The MP took a step forward. "I believe we have an opportunity here, my Prince. If you yourself will come with me to the Eastern Gate, my suspicion is that your Royal personage might be enough to convince the City Guard to allow you through."
Cor merely stared at the man before him without responding, but we all could see he was deep in thought. "I see your point, and it is valid," he finally said, "but Parliament has retracted my authority in this manner."
"In one manner, yes – but you are still the Crown Prince of Archenland! You are still their future King! I beg you to act on this, my liege!" Tallum urged, his tone increasingly eager. "Just because they are following Parliament's orders does not necessarily decrease their loyalty to the Royal family of our country!"
Cor held the eyes of the MP for a few moments longer, then looked up at myself and Aravis. "I believe our good knight has a very compelling point, and I find myself willing to try it out. What say you both?"
"You would be wise to. 'Tis better than remaining here and doing nothing." Aravis responded, and I nodded in agreement. "Aravis is right. We stand to gain nothing by remaining here. Any chance we have to reach Corin and find the truth of the matter must be tried." I must see the love of my heart once before this day is through, or I shall be undone went through my head, but I kept those thoughts to myself. "Only one thing, Cor: I will go with you. I must go with you. Please do not disallow it, I must know what is happening with Corin." Once again, I felt the tears threatening, but forced them down. This was not the time for weakness or unnecessary sentiment.
Cor held my gaze for several seconds without responding, and I could tell he was hesitant to agree lest the worse come to pass. Finally, he nodded. "Aye, that would be for the best," he said quietly. "If I can't talk sense into my brother or discover his reasons for this whole debacle, then perhaps his lady love will have more success."
"His lady love?!" Tallum burst out, looking up in surprise at me.
Cor chuckled, the seriousness of the moment temporarily dissipating at the stunned look on the man's face. "Aye, sir knight, that would have been the talk of the town, were my brother not encamped outside our walls. Queen Lucy of Narnia and Corin are in formal courtship with each other, and quite a story it is of how it all came about!"
The middle-aged lord inclined his head to me. "As one who knows Prince Corin better than most in Parliament, Madam, I know not whether to congratulate you heartily or offer my sincerest condolences!" That left all of us laughing briefly. "But seriously, my Lady" the knight continued, "may Aslan bless you both. You could not have picked a finer lad from all Archenland, and I say that with all my heart, notwithstanding the events of today." He took my hand in his, and pressed it to his lips. "And now, my liege," as the man turned back towards Cor, "what are your orders?"
Cor stirred, and for the first time since Tallum arrived, he rose from his chair. He looked like a more confident young man than the one I had seen when I first entered the dining hall. "Lord Tallum," and his tone was different, filled with authority and purpose. "You will escort Queen Lucy of Narnia and myself to the Eastern Gate, to see if we can prevail upon the Guard to allow their future King to exit the city and seek an audience with his brother."
Tallum nodded. "I serve Archenland and the Crown Prince."
"I know, and your loyalty (both to me and my brother) will be rewarded, I assure you. Lucy, if I can prevail on you, I would like your retainers to accompany us while I leave mine here at the Keep with Aravis – as a precautionary measure only, I hope."
"Of course." In truth, I just happy to be going.
"Very good, you have my thanks." Cor tightened his sword belt, before going over to Aravis, taking her hands in his, and leading her to the nearby window. I did not hear the words that passed between them, but the look in their eyes spoke volumes. Cor whispered something, then Aravis quietly responded before reaching up to softly kiss him. Before Cor could respond, she hurried past him and exited the dining hall with a curtsy to myself and Tallum. It did not take a conjurer to see that I was not the only girl in Anvard in love with an Archenland Prince.
Cor's eyes followed her retreating figure for a brief moment, before turning his attention to us. "Very well, then," and at that moment, he sounded more like a future king than any time before, "lead on, my good knight, and we shall discover what in the name of Aslan is going on with my brother, or I am not the Crown Prince of this good land!"
Between the two royal twins, I had not known (and still did not know) Cor as well as Corin. But as I looked into Cor's eyes at that moment, eyes that held a glint of uncertainty yet set with determination, I saw the future of Archenland.
A/N: I stole Corin's "Archen Braes" song from an old Scottish folk song. If any interested souls want to hear the original, go to YouTube and type in "The Corries Mormond Braes".
