Chapter 12 Making Plans
"What's the news?" asked Hermione the moment Ron, Edmund, the giant, and the centaur came into the camp.
"He has accepted," Ron laughed. "The man is mental, completely mental."
Lucy, Susan, and Pansy ran up besides Hermione.
"What did he say?" Pansy asked eagerly.
"He said yes," Edmund grinned.
By the time Edmund and Ron made it up to the Mound, almost everyone had heard the news. Several animals ducked into the Mound to get King Peter, King Caspian, and a few others who were meeting together. When they finally came out, all eyes were turned towards Edmund and Ron, and not a sound was to be heard.
"What says Miraz?" Peter asked, just as tensed.
Edmund's eyes grew bright as he nearly shouted out his answer.
"He accepts. He said yes!"
Cheers erupted, laughter was heard, and not a single person was silent. The entire camp was in a frenzy, hopes held high. Before a minute had gone by, music was being played and many of the beasts began to dance in a circle, many beasts joining in making the circle wider as the festive mood grew. A couple of giants began to sing, although it was very difficult to understand a word they sang due to their tendency to slur their speech.
"We haven't won yet," Draco said softly. "Shouldn't they wait to celebrate until they have a reason to?"
"Let them celebrate," King Caspian said with a smile. "They need this. For the first time, things are looking up. We've been outmatched in every battle, but now it will be one on one, as even as it will ever get. What more could we ask for?"
"Victory," Draco drawled.
"I was thinking more about food, but victory works too," Ron sighed.
"Tonight, we shall feast. Either we win or we lose tomorrow," Peter said. "There's no use in saving all the food. Besides, a banquet would be nice for a change. I haven't had a good meal since England."
"Where's England?" King Caspian asked, curiosity finally taking over.
"It's a whole new world," Edmund said. "You wouldn't like it. There's no way you'd be able to be king yet. None of us would be kings there."
"You're not kings in your country?" King Caspian asked, shocked.
"Sadly, no," Peter replied. "They treat us like children even though we know so much more than they could possibly think."
"We are children," Susan pointed out.
"We're also hungry," Ron added quickly. "Where's the banquet?"
( )
"That is where we agreed to hold the fight," Edmund pointed somewhere on a map, one that the Narnians used for most of their battles.
"And he agreed?" King Caspian asked.
"Yeah, he said he accepted." Ron was staring at the map, trying to figure out what path they had taken to get to Aslan's How from the island they had been on instead of helping with tactics. His stomach growled constantly, the smell of the cooking food only making it worse.
"Well, it's obvious that we'll be on this side, towards Aslan's How," Peter pointed on the map, "and they'll be on the other side. We need three marshals, that's how it's always been." He looked to King Caspian to make sure that's how it was still done. King Caspian nodded. "Good.
"Who will our marshals be?"
"Well, Caspian," Peter said thoughtfully, "you would probably know better than me. Who do you think would be best?"
"Well, the giant, Wimbleweather, and the centaur Glenstorm would do fine."
"What about me, Sire?" came a voice.
Peter looked around the room, trying to find who had just spoken.
"Down here," came the voice again, obviously annoyed.
"Oh?" Peter exclaimed. "Reepicheep, I'm sorry."
"All is quite forgiven if you would let me speak, Sire."
"By all means."
The first time Peter saw Reepicheep he almost laughed. The mouse was no more than three feet tall, but what he lacked in size he made up in spirit, and his unyielding loyalty to both King Caspian and King Peter was unquestionable. And the moment Peter had seen the mouse use his sword, he knew this small critter was worth more than most of the other soldiers.
Of course, they all wanted to know if Reepicheep had been any relation of Mr. Winkle, the children's first friend they met in Narnia during their last visit, before the White Witch had been destroyed. They didn't mean to offend him, but the mouse went on a rant for several minutes about how he is not related to every rat or mouse one might see.
It was then that Peter realized how much pride and honor Reepicheep had stored in him, and it was being displayed once again.
"Sire, if you wouldn't mind, my fellow mice are very distressed, and I think it would do them good if I could humbly offer you my service as one of your marshals."
"I thank you, Master Mouse, but I don't think that would be the best idea. You are by far one of the best soldiers I've ever had the privilege to meet and on any other occasion I would gladly accept your offer."
"Is it because I'm too small?" he asked with a hint of steel.
"Of course not!" Edmund chimed in. "I once knew a mouse no taller than you and he did incredible things. If it hadn't been for him, I'm not sure Narnia would of turned out the way it had."
"Then, I beg you, tell me why I'm of no use to you."
"There are a lot of people who are terrified of mice," Edmund began, "and since Miraz has shown himself to be no more than a coward, he would probably be one of them. Seeing you might scare him into declining the offer. I hope you understand, but you're more than ten times taller than that crazy king could ever be in our eyes."
Bowing low, Reepicheep said, "Thank you, my king, for thinking of it that way. I would never wish to harm any of your plans by my intimidating looks. I shall find another place to be of use."
"You needn't do that," King Caspian laughed. "I have the perfect job for you. You can help us with this planning if you'd like."
With that, the mouse's eyes lit up and his ears stood tall above his head, his tail wagging happily like a dog's.
"I will be ever so honored by your request and I shall do my best."
"But who's our third marshal?" Harry asked. He, Ron, and Draco were standing on the far end of the table.
As if on cue, a small, timid, yawning bear came up to the table.
"It has always been given to the bears, the third right of being marshal, it has," the bear said sleepily.
"You!" Reepicheep shouted. "Why, you're nothing more than an oversized fur coat! And look, you're sucking your paw! You will disgrace us all."
"He's likely to fall asleep," Draco laughed. Harry grinned in agreement.
"Has it been the bears' right?" Ron asked King Caspian.
"I've been finding out a lot about things like that from my tutor, Cornelius. The bear is right." It was obvious King Caspian wasn't excited about it.
"You really want to do this?" Ron asked the bear. For some reason, he felt sympathy towards the poor animal. Ron had felt like the bear on many occasions.
"Oh, yes. I would do anything to make my brothers proud and my king honored, I would."
"You have the right heart, but you must promise not to fall asleep or suck your paw," Peter warned.
"Or embarrass us in any way!" added Reepicheep.
"I would never," the bear said.
"You're sucking your paw right now," Draco sighed.
Instantly, the bear put both paws behind his back, saying, "No I'm not."
"Then it's settled," Peter said, "Our three marshals shall be, the giant Wimbleweather, the centaur Glenstorm, and the bear…?"
"Rumpletin."
"And the bear, Rumpletin."
"We're doomed," Draco said softly. "Too bad we don't have a wolf for a marshal."
"Like Maugrim?" Edmund asked, remembering the chief wolf, one of the White Witch's guards. "Wonder whatever happened to him."
"Maugrim's gold, it's been a story for centuries," a badger said.
At that, Edmund, Draco, Pansy, Harry, and Ron perked up.
"I'm listening."
"It is said that a wolf named Maugrim stole a treasure of such value that it could restore Narnia to her glory days, but the wolf buried it, waiting for his queen to come for him and his prize. Where it is buried, no one knows. And it is only a story. There are no facts to base it on."
"And we're not talking about stories," Peter glared, "we're here to win a war before it's even started. So, please, pay attention!"
"You'll be fighting Miraz," Edmund said slowly, "I'll be on the side lines with King Caspian, Draco, Ron, and Harry, and the marshals will be here, next to us."
"That's the plan."
"You sure you can beat Miraz?"
Peter looked at his little brother, "We'll find out, now won't we?"