Chapter 5

Georgie opened her eyes to find herself in darkness. Her eyes frantically looked about, darting back and forth trying to assess her surroundings. Four small slits of light shone to the right of her, as if on a wall. She considered this briefly, as she was still confused as to where she was. Realizing that the light could have a source, she turned to her left and saw, several feet above her, a small window, no bigger than a shoebox, with three vertical bars evenly spaced. Her mind raced reviewing the events that had occurred. Was it today? Yesterday? How long have I been here?

She remembered being at school. Being told her parents died. Running through the woods. Finding the river. The little man. The little man! Perhaps the Germans are in England! But the Germans are supposed to be a fierce lot; why would they employ such a tiny man? Why am I here though? Maybe I came by their camp and was captured! She had heard of Nazi prisons and the terrors they held, although what one was doing in England was beyond her knowledge. Unless... unless I'm not in England anymore! And what of that man on horseback? Although, as her memories became less foggy, she thought she had remembered it not being a man on a horse, but a half man, half horse. But that's silly. There are no such creatures in England! I wonder if maybe there are in Germany... Oh don't be silly Georgiana! There are no such creatures anywhere!

As her eyes became adjusted to the darkness, she realized that she was in some sort of a cell. A large wooden door was at one end, opposite the small window. The hard cement floor she sat upon was cold, as was the stone wall she leaned against. A shiver went through her body, but whether it was from cold or fear, Georgie could not distinguish. She drew her knees up to her chest and laid her head on them, her shoulders shaking as sobs began wracking through her body.

Hours later Georgie, who had given up sobbing and taken up pacing angrily, stood in the middle of her cell. She had heard the click-clack of footsteps outside, the first noise she had heard since she woke up. A mixture of anger and fear consumed her as she turned towards the door, prepared to meet her captor.

"Father! Father!" cried the small girl who had rushed through the sitting room door where her father was relaxed in a large chair, reading a newspaper. The headlines spoke of impending war, one in which England was soon to be involved, but the little girl understood nothing of this. Mr. Moore lowered his paper to peer at his 8-year old daughter. She was a disaster. Her expensive dress was muddied and torn, one stocking was down around her ankle rather than at her knee like its twin, and she seemed to be missing a shoe. Her hair ribbon, artfully tied by her nanny this morning, was drooping halfway down her face and she kept batting it out of her eyes as she spoke. "Father! I was pushed! Henry from down the street chased me and pushed me! In the mud!" she exclaimed, an indigent looking crossing her face as she recalled the horrific story of how she was terrorized by the boy down the street, hurrying over the fact that she had taken only one of his sweets from him. Mr. Moore suppressed the urge to laugh at his daughter's take on the tale. Henry, as the boy was called, was the oldest son of his best friend from university and was as mischievous as his daughter. They had moved down the street from the Moore family years ago, and both fathers hoped their children would be as good of friends as they were. Unfortunately, Henry and Georgie held each other in the highest contempt and were constantly trying to get the other in trouble. "Speak to his father, Father! Tell him what Henry did to me!" Georgie demanded, pushing her bow out of her face once more. "Now Georgie," Mr. Moore began. "What will either of you learn if you continue to find yourself in these predicaments and run to your parents to do your job for you? You must learn courage and stand up for yourself. Although in all fairness you did bring this upon yourself. I wager you did not ask Henry for a sweet, nor did he say you could have one. In addition to courage, you also must learn to accept your punishments and admit when you were in the wrong." Georgie's jaw dropped at her father's words, her eyes as big as saucers in disbelief. Mr. Moore suppressed another urge to laugh and continued, "So no, dear. I will not go to Henry's father and tell him what happened because I expect you to go to Henry and apologize for stealing from him." He looked at his daughter with what he hoped was a stern look, trying to mimic the one he remembered his own father giving him when he misbehaved. One look at his daughter's face told him he had failed. Georgie huffed, spun around and ran from the room.

"Mummy! Mummy, I was pushed!"

Warmth flooded Georgie as the memory of her parents came to her and a sense of longing to be that little girl again who could run to her parents whenever she needed them nearly overwhelmed her. Struggling to find the courage her father had heeded her to learn, she stared at the wooden door, bracing herself for whatever came through it.

"We found her near Rush River, Your Majesty. She was oddly dressed and we felt it would be prudent to bring her here in case she was a threat," came a voice from outside the cell door. Georgie felt that this voice was vaguely familiar, as though she recognized the accent or gruffness. The voice did not, thank goodness, sound German. Glancing down, she thought, I am not oddly dressed. Have they never seen a school uniform?

"I find it peculiar that Calormen would send a spy up that way, so exposed. But you say she was unarmed?" a second voice asked. This voice was immensely different from the first. Georgie thought it was beautiful, melodic sounding, with hints of an accent she could not place.

"Yes, Your Majesty. We checked her for any type of weapon, which she had none, and also searched her surroundings for others, but the area was empty."

A loud sigh sounded, probably from the beautiful sounding one, Georgie thought. "So you have captured a Calormene spy, who is a woman, unarmed, unaccompanied, and who does not look exactly Calormene?"

"I, er..." the first voice said, suddenly unsure of himself.

"Open the door so I may greet our "prisoner" please, Trumpkin," the beautiful voice said, annoyance apparent on his voice.

Georgie's heart raced as she heard the rattling of keys and the distinct click of a door being unlocked. All anger melted away and was overtaken by fear of the two people who she was about to encounter. The door swung inward as it opened and a tall man stood before it. He was beautiful, matching the beauty in his voice perfectly. He ducked down to walk through the door, as it was shorter than he. Atop his dark, nearly black, hair sat a golden crown, more astonishing than any crown Georgie had ever seen, both in the histories she loved to read or in her favorite childhood fairy tales. The first voice had said "Your Majesty." Perhaps he is the king of wherever I am?

The king stared at her, as if assessing every detail about her. His mouth was in a tight line, his annoyance at the situation magnified once he had seen her. "Apparently, Trumpkin," the king said, his eyes never leaving Georgie. "We have been too hasty in our capture of this "Calormene" lady?" Georgie's eyes averted to the right of the man standing in front of her, seeing the same little man who had shot the arrow at her. Upon closer inspection, she noted that his beard, which she once thought white, was actually a strawberry blonde color, only lightly strewn with whiter hairs. I wonder if he is a dwarf, she thought, remembering the one time her parents took her to a fair. There had been two dwarfs there, entertaining the crowds with song and dance.

"Please, dear lady, allow me to introduce myself," the man said, offering his hand towards Georgie, his face breaking into a kind smile. "I am King Caspian of Narnia. I'm afraid my Lord Regent, Trumpkin, has made a terrible mistake in capturing you and I would like to offer my sincerest apologies for any inconvenience we may have caused you." With a look of disbelief and astonishment at the king's kind words, Georgie timidly placed her hand in King Caspian's and shook it, wordlessly accepting his apology.

"How did the Council meeting go this morning, Pete?" Edmund asked.

Peter looked up from several correspondences he had been reading. The King of Archenland had been writing for the past few months inviting the Pevensies to visit him now that they had settled back in Cair Paravel. Luckily for the Pevensies, there seemed to always be more pressing matters to attend to. All four siblings, especially Peter, thought the king and his wife, while wonderful allies, were dreadful bores and tried to spend as little time socially with them as possible.

"Oh, hm? It went alright, I suppose. I suspect if you had bothered to show your face at them every once in a while, you might actually know how they went," Peter said sarcastically. Edmund rolled his eyes at this statement, but wisely kept his comment to himself. "Actually, Caspian brought up the notion of taking a trip," Peter began.

"A trip? To where? Can we go? It would be wonderful to travel again!" Lucy exclaimed, her sewing quickly tossed aside at the mention of a trip.

"Ha! Absolutely not!" Peter laughed. "This wouldn't be a pleasure trip, but a "rescue mission", as Caspian put it."

"Rescue mission? Who needs rescuing?" Susan asked, clearly alarmed that someone could be in trouble.

"Apparently Miraz, before he took the throne, tried to get rid of the lords still loyal to Caspian. It was recently brought to my attention that there were seven who were sent on ridiculous missions and whose fates are presently unaccounted for. Caspian feels that it's his responsibility to find them and bring them home, if they are even still alive." Peter angrily described. "It's a ridiculous idea to undertake, especially for a King of Narnia! I would support it if I felt that he was doing it to provide protection to the Narnians, but it really seems to be a selfish mission, putting not only himself, but those who travel with him in danger!"

"Peter, calm down. You know how Caspian is. He feels responsible for the pain and suffering of his people, especially those who were loyal to him all those years ago. He may be able to be persuaded to not take this mission," Susan said gently, placing a hand on Peter's arm in a motherly gesture. "He really is more like you than you realize," she added softly.

Peter huffed, "I would not propose such an idiotic voyage as this. I would put the needs of my country first before the need to absolve myself of any guilt I may have." Peter turned to Edmund, who had remained quiet throughout his brother's tirade (More like tantrum, Edmund thought sardonically) against the mission. "Ed? Thoughts? Input from you would be appreciated."

"I think it's a big mission to undertake that would indeed take Caspian away from his duties as king for who knows how long." Peter's face lit up as he listened to his brother's agreement with him. "But," Edmund began. Peter's face fell. "I think perhaps if Caspian believes that this mission is necessary to make amends for Miraz's injustices, then he should take it. We're here to rule in his stead, so the country will not be left without a ruler while he is away. This mission may also make him a stronger leader for our people. Sometimes, you have to do what is right in your heart to absolve your guilt in order to become a better king. Or queen," he hastily added, glancing at his sisters, knowing they despised when they were forgotten as equal rulers of Narnia.

Peter sighed deeply and sat back in his chair, staring at his little brother. When had he grown up and gotten so much wiser than me? Peter thought. He knew Edmund was right about Caspian needing to take this mission. What he had not told the others was Caspian's wish for Edmund to join him on the voyage. Although Edmund had traveled countless times, Peter was hesitant to allow his younger brother, his second in command and, often times, best friend to travel on what he still deemed a suicide mission. The idea of any of his younger siblings being put in danger angered him to the core. "Alright then. I suppose you are right. I will speak to Caspian about this and work out a plan with him for the mission should he still want to take it," Peter conceded.

"Erm, Peter?" Lucy spoke up, her voice laced with sweetness.

"Yes?" Peter asked suspiciously, not being fooled at the angelic face Lucy was looking at him with. "Can I go with Caspian on his rescue mission?"

"For the love... No!" Peter yelled, throwing his hands up in exasperation. The look on Lucy's face at Peter's outburst and denial of her request caused both Susan and Edmund to laugh until tears streamed down their faces.

When it became time for dinner, the four siblings began to make their way to the castle's private dining room where the monarchs ate when not entertaining guests. Lucy and Susan left the sitting room first, arm in arm discussing the details of a ball the siblings were hosting in honor of the Princess of Archenland, who would be visiting Narnia in the upcoming month. Edmund followed, but was grabbed on the arm by Peter.

"Stay back a minute. I want to discuss something with you before we join the girls," Peter said quietly, making sure his sisters were out of sight before he continued. "During the Council meeting Trumpkin informed us of the capture of a supposed Calormene spy. He claimed they brought her here and put her in a cell (apparently she was unconscious at the time) until we decided what to do with her."

"Her?!" Edmund said loudly.

"Shh! Keep it down," Peter hissed, glancing around to make sure no one had overheard them.

"Calormene spies are not "hers," Edmund said knowingly. "Perhaps Trumpkin made a mistake? It wouldn't be the first time he got something wrong."

"I don't know. Caspian left the meeting with him when we convened to check on the prisoner. I asked him to report his findings to me so that the five of us can decide what to do with her."

"The five of us? If you want the five of us to discuss her fate, why are we keeping it from the girls?" Edmund asked, smirking at his older brother.

Peter looked a little sheepish as he replied, "Well, I saw no need to get them worked up if the prisoner turned out to be nothing."

Edmund laughed as he punched his brother in the arm. "You have to give that attitude up brother. You remember what they were like if we kept secrets from them when we were all this age before." Peter and he exchanged fearful glances, both remembering the wrath they had incurred from their sisters all those many years ago.

"Right," Peter said. "We'll tell them after dinner."