Chapter Five: Control

Peter

"Look at me," Edmund said, holding up the new baby Princess, "I'm an uncle!"

"You've said that at least fifty times over the last few weeks," Lucy pointed out, amused.

"Yes," agreed Susan, more irritated, "and don't hold her like that, Ed. Babies like to be held firmly."

"Oh, how would you know?" Edmund asked. "She's not crying. She loves her Uncle Edmund."

Susan rolled her eyes and Peter suppressed laughter. Catherine (named after Peter's grandmother) had been born two weeks ago and Peter was very surprised by how much his brother and sisters doted on the new baby. Well, perhaps it wasn't so shocking with Susan and Lucy. Susan was so motherly and Lucy was so sweet and women naturally liked babies anyway. Edmund, however, was a total and rather pleasant surprise, especially as he had previously shown very little interest in babies. The only fault that Peter could find with him was that he was a bit overenthusiastic and not careful enough with the infant.

"Give her to me," Peter commanded holding out his arms to take the Princess. Edmund handed her over. Peter sighed reverently as he looked down at his baby. She was so beautiful and tiny and vulnerable. She looked a lot like Ethnee with blonde hair and big blue eyes. Everyone assumed that Peter would be disappointed that his new child was not a boy. A part of him was disappointed; the part who was King of Narnia and always looking to the best interests of his kingdom. But as soon as he had seen little Catherine, he knew that he wouldn't have had it any other way. Anyway, if she had been a boy, then he would have had to train her and be hard on her. Since she was a girl, he could spoil and pet her. He could buy her all the beautiful, dainty things that little girls liked. He could protect her.

Peter touched the soft skin gently and watched, in a dreamy sort of wonder as if the experience were totally new to him as his daughter clasped her tiny fist around his finger. He kissed her on the forehead and looked up to find his brother and sisters looking at him rather fondly. He gave them a stern frown. The next moment, a knock came from the door that led to the bedroom from Peter's sitting quarters where they were currently engaged.

"Enter," Peter said, knowing that it would be one of Ethnee's sisters, two of whom, Marna and Lyla, were helping to take care of Ethnee who still hadn't recovered from her difficult delivery. Peter sighed as he saw Marna, looking as dour as a woman of her relatively young age could, come into the room. Marna asked for baby Catherine very curtly, claiming that it was her feeding time. Peter reluctantly handed the child over. If the responses of his brother and sisters to the birth had been a pleasant surprise for Peter, then Ethnee's response had been a complete disappointment. It had physically been a difficult birth and at first had thought this the reason for his wife's behavior. Soon however, it became obvious that Ethnee was more ill in mind than in body. She spent her days lying about in bed, most usually staring at the ceiling and she could rarely be persuaded to engage conversation. She held Catherine in her arms when the baby was given to her, but she showed little interest in her own child. Peter, who had always assumed that Ethnee would make an excellent mother, was perplexed by this. His wife was usually so tender and loving and gentle; almost the ideal image of a mother. Peter had become truly and deeply angry with Ethnee.

Peter sighed as he watched Marna carry Catherine into the other room. Marna claimed that Ethnee was just feeling a bit dejected and that she would soon snap out of it. Peter was less sure of this. What did Ethnee have to feel bad about? She was surrounded by people who loved her, who were doing every conceivable thing for her and she had a new, healthy, beautiful child. Not to mention the fact that she was the High King's wife. Most women would envy her.

--- -- ---

Marna was very irritated with the Kings and Queens at that moment. She had never liked Peter that much. Peter had taken her little sister away. Her little sister who wasn't nearly mature enough or strong enough to be his wife. Marna normally liked Peter's family better than Peter himself, but she could tell that they were angry with Ethnee. They didn't understand. Marna had explained it to them, but they still didn't understand. They thought that Ethnee didn't love her baby, that she was a horrible, uncaring mother. Even Lucy, who was usually so sweet and helpful to Ethnee had been somewhat distant and reproachful. In a way, Marna could understand their feelings. Ethnee did seem unhappy and disinterested in Catherine but Marna also knew that this was just a phase. She knew because she had observed the same thing in her own mother. After each birth, her mother had always become very distant and acted ill even though she should have been recovering physically. She had always overcome these feelings within a few months. Marna had tried to tell Peter all this, but he was very stubborn and behaved as though his ears were full of sand. She did think that Peter and his brother and sisters could be a little more understanding. It wasn't as though having a baby was easy.

Marna had to practically pry Catherine away from Peter when it was time for the baby to be fed. She had to admit that he did seem to love the baby, but his refusal to spend time with Ethnee and the baby were not helping her sister to recover. She found that Ethnee was laying in the bed with her eyes closed and that her other sister, Lyla, was sitting in a chair nearby, filing her nails. Marna sighed. She would have much rather brought one of the younger girls to help with Ethnee; she got the feeling that the only reason Lyla had come was to be near court and to meet all the young men at Cair, but the opportunity of doing these things combined with the chance to get away from their father's watchful eye had been enough for Lyla to insist.

Marna walked over to the bed and held out the baby to Ethnee. "Here's little Catherine, dear," she said cheerfully. "I think it's time for her lunch."

"Oh, Marna," Ethnee moaned, "hasn't Peter got a nurse for her yet? I swear, I don't think he cares about me at all anymore." Ethnee's eyes filled with the sincerest tears as she said this.

Marna hugged her sister. Peter had mentioned getting a nurse for Catherine, but Marna had put it off, hoping that more time with the baby would help Ethnee to get better sooner. "Shh, darling, of course he still cares about you," she said, putting aside her feelings about Peter for the moment. "I think that he just would like you to show more of an interest in things."

"I know, I know," Ethnee said, tears running down her face. "I know everyone thinks I'm terrible and they're right. I don't – don't know what's wrong with me, Marna."

Marna hugged her sister tightly and cried also. She didn't know how to help Ethnee.

Susan

Susan was a trollop.

She was convinced of this. Ever since Susan was a small child, she had been taught that "good" girls could only have one boyfriend at a time. She was quite sure that a good girl wouldn't have slept with both Alberic and Torim. Alberic was the problem. She knew that if she told him her true feelings then he would probably cry and fuss and argue and tell her that his love for her was eternal and that he would waste away without her or some such nonsense. Susan could never stand to hurt anyone's feelings and she always avoided conflict. So now she was stuck with both Alberic and Torim.

Torim often visited Cair Paraval, so much so that Susan thought that he must spend more time with her than in his own country. One fall morning Susan lay in her bed, regarding her toes peeping out from under the bedclothes with sleepy satisfaction. Torim was an excellent lover. He definitely knew what he was about, much more so than Alberic. He knew how to please a woman. Alberic (and most men, from what she could gather) seemed to think that sex was all about the man's pleasure and that most women would only do it to be accommodating to their husbands or lovers.

"What are you smiling about?" Torim teased, sitting up beside of her in her bed.

"I was just thinking about what a magnificent chest you have," she answered staunchly, reaching over to run her hands along his torso. Torim loved being flattered.

"Oh, you were, were you? Maybe you were or maybe … you're a little liar!" With this, he began to tickle her and Susan dissolved into laughter. Torim could always tell when she was lying.

"Still," Torim said when he was done tormenting her and she was done giggling, "I do have a nice chest, if I do say so myself."

"So vain, King Torim," Susan said lightly.

"I dare say that I have a much nicer chest than Alberic."

Susan sighed and turned away from him. "Please don't start this again, darling," she pouted. "Jealousy doesn't become you."

"Who would have imagined that Queen Susan the Gentle was such a whore?"

"Torim!"

"I'm positively dying from your cold cruelty."

"Torim! You know that I want to end it with Alberic. It's just … I know he's going to do something stupid."

"I'm only teasing you, dear. Yes, I agree that Alberic has a great talent for looking stupid," this last bit was said rather fiercely despite his assurances that he was joking.

"Torim, you're hurting my feelings."

"Well, I certainly wouldn't want to hurt your feelings, Susan dear," he said, kissing her on the nose. She giggled again and they kissed some more, retreating to the warmth underneath Susan's bedclothes. Susan barely heard the sharp intake of breath coming from the doorway, but her heart fell knowing that someone had discovered them. Susan sat it. It was worse than she thought. A very pale Alberic was standing near the doorway, staring at the two of them.

"You – you --" Alberic stuttered, his face going red and then white again. Susan felt genuinely sorry for him.

"Alberic," she said, "I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you …" she trailed off as she realized that Alberic wasn't listening to a word she was saying, but was looking at Torim with the utmost rage.

"You disgusting whoreson!" he yelped, causing Susan to start. "You have tainted this lady's honor."

"No more so than yourself," Torim yawned.

"I challenge you to single combat!" Alberic yelled recklessly.

"What!" Susan said alarmed. They both ignored her.

"You don't want to challenge me to single combat, son," Torim said, dangerously. This was true enough – everyone knew that Torim was an excellent swordsman.

"If you don't accept, then I'll run you through right here like the dishonorable excuse for a man that you are."

"Oh, Alberic, stop it," Susan said, but Torim interrupted her.

"Well, when you put it like that, I suppose that I have no choice but to accept."

"Torim," Susan said in warning.

"You heard him, dear," said Torim, who sounded suspiciously as though he were ready to laugh. "If I don't accept, then I will surely be slain."

--- -- ---

"You had best tell me what this is all about at once," Peter said sternly to the two men standing before him.

Susan cringed. This was it. She was about to be publicly humiliated, revealed as a loose woman. Alberic had no reason to protect her; he could tell Peter about Torim's actions without bringing in his own. Susan watched Alberic's gaze go back and forth between her and Peter. "This – this man has gravely insulted your sister's honor, King Peter. I cannot bear any insult to the Queen and so I challenged him to single combat."

Peter looked over at Torim. "Is this what happened?"

"Your Majesty, I did nothing to insult the Queen. This man in is in love with her and is jealous that Queen Susan has shown some interest in me."

Peter looked between the two of them gravely. "And you accepted his challenge?" he asked Torim.

"I did, Your Majesty," Torim said, despite Susan's imploring glances.

"Then so be it," Peter said. Susan felt as if she were going to be ill.

--- -- ---

"Peter, you must stop this madness." Susan implored her brother for the hundredth time, with tears in her eyes. They were sitting on throne-like seats in a tent that was arranged for them to watch the combat. "They'll end up killing each other over something so stupid!"

"I've told you, there's nothing I can do, Susan! It is a dispute of honor between two knights. I can't interfere."

"Well, I think you're dreadfully cruel," Susan said, stamping her foot. "You could stop this if you wanted to!"

"Susan," he said gently, "I have no right to stop it. How would it look if I interfered in this just because it suited my family?"

Susan turned away from him. "Edmund," she said, seeing her younger brother walk up, "see if you can't talk Alberic out of this."

Edmund shook his head. "I've already tried, Su. And Peter's right – commanding them to stop would be breaking an unwritten rule of the knighthood. It wouldn't be noble."

"If it's an unwritten rule, then it means that you're allowed to break it."

Edmund shook his head. "You know better than most that this is not true. Sometimes it's the unwritten rules that are the most important to people, I think."

Susan rolled her eyes. Someone would soon be killed and he was brooding about law or philosophy or ethics or something equally ridiculous.

Men were all idiots.

"Oh, Susan, be reasonable!" Peter said, catching her look.

"Reasonable? Reasonable!" she exclaimed. "I am being reasonable. Everyone else is acting mad. Going on about honor and rules and nonsense when senseless bloodshed is about to occur!"

"The whole point –" Peter began, but was cut off by the commotion that accompanied the two combatants entering the yard. Everyone watched the two approach one other with a sort of reverent awe. Susan saw that several eyes were trained upon herself. It must have made a fine picture for all of them. Alberic in his polished silver armor, his perfectly groomed features full of righteous indignation and Torim in ancient looking armor that Susan had never seen him wear before, his broadsword slung over his back and his long mane of golden hair flowing down as his helm was held at his side. All this as Susan, the helpless and beautiful lady watched anxiously, fear and female delicacy towards bloodshed causing her perfect features to pale and her hands to clench tightly in her lap. Susan knew that some of those gazes that she got from the crowd were disapproving. As though it were her fault that two fools wanted to kill one another.

The two bowed in the direction of the monarchs and then bowed to each other. They spoke, though Susan couldn't hear their words, and then the fight was on. Susan had assumed that Torim would tear Alberic to pieces, but Alberic was really quite a bit better than she had thought and managed to dodge Torim's aggressive blows. Their swords and shields clanged loudly and Susan gasped each time. This sort of thing always made her feel vaguely sick, but now she felt like dying. How could people find anything exciting or noble about it? Presently, Susan realized that Torim was not putting his full effort into the fight. He barely even using his shield, leaving his whole torso exposed and he would often lean back as though waiting for Alberic to make the next move. Susan knew by his stance that if she could have seen his face, he would have been smiling. She cursed him for prolonging her agony.

Alberic had noticed also. "Fight me!" he yelled out to Torim, hacking his sword wildly. "Fight me like a man!"

Torim, alarmed by the heedlessness of Alberic's motions, took this opportunity to use his shield knock Alberic's sword from his hand and to knock the slighter man to the ground. Torim ripped Alberic's helm off and brought his sword swiftly down on his neck so that for a moment, Susan thought that he was going to slit Alberic's throat. Instead, he pressed the point against Alberic's neck so firmly that a little trickle of blood ran down.

"Queen Susan," Torim yelled out above the din of the crowd, "shall I kill this churl for harassing you and causing you so much anxiety."

Peter frowned at this but Susan gave a long sigh of relief. It was all over and no one killed. "No, no, of course not, King Torim," she said, trying to affect a laugh. "Let him go."

Torim pushed Alberic forcefully away and bowed slightly to the cheering crowd. Susan got up to go and speak to Torim. She had been certain only a few moments earlier that she would never speak to him again, but now that it was all over and done with and no one hurt it did seem rather romantic. Susan never made it to Torim, however. Her stress and conflicting emotions must have been too much for her because she fainted dead away.

Edmund

There was a heavy weight bearing down upon Edmund's body, restricting his breathing and causing his ribs to ache. Edmund opened his eyes to find that the weight was actually a blonde headed girl who was lying on top of him.

"Oi, get off," Edmund groaned, shifting his weight and causing her to stir. The girl looked at him with wide, admiring green eyes. Edmund hoped she would leave soon. Alette hadn't been the first girl to wake up in Edmund's bed. The first was Alise, quickly followed by Carra and then Lydie and then Yolande. They had followed each other very rapidly because Edmund was constantly hoping that this one would make him feel better than the last. It never worked that well and Edmund was always at a loss about how to get rid of them in the morning without hurting their feelings. Indeed, Alette was looking at him with a very hurt expression at that very moment.

"You were crushing my ribs," Edmund said by way of explanation.

"Oh," she said sheepishly. "Sorry." She settled in beside him and put her arms around his chest. Edmund ground his teeth, wanting to dress her and push her out the door.

"Oh, Edmund," she sighed, happily, "I can't wait to dance with you at the next ball. Of course I shall enjoy dancing with all the young men, but you the very most."

"That's … nice," Edmund managed.

"Yes," she agreed and then, to Edmund's great amazement and relative boredom, she actually began rattling off the names of the young lords whom she hoped would dance with her! Sensing Edmund's distance, she got up and began to get dressed, talking quickly the whole time. "Edmund," she asked after a while, "whatever happened to that young lord that you used to run about with all the time? Cade was his name. He was always wonderfully fun to dance with."

Edmund, who had only been half listening, snapped his attention to her with force. "I dare say he was," he said, coldly. Edmund had asked all about for information on Cade, but could find no trace of the young man. He had practically given up by now. "I don't know what happened to him."

"A shame, that," she said, "oh, well, I shall still dance with you and Lord Kordon and Lord Fewell and Lord –" Alette was cut off by the door opening and to Edmund's complete and overwhelming horror, Peter walked into the room.

Alette, who still had several buttons undone gasped and clasped her dress close to her body. "Your Majesty," she sputtered, curtsying. "I'll just be … going …" she hurried out of the room, fastening the last few buttons on the way. Edmund shrank under his covers feeling utterly embarrassed.

"The servants told me I could come in," Peter said, not particularly apologetically, but not angrily either. "I wanted to make sure that you were coming to the banquet this afternoon. It's very important; it's Catherine's introduction to the kingdom."

"Um, of course I'm coming."

"I hadn't seen you today. It's past noon."

"Oh, I guess … um, never mind," Edmund stammered, not wanting to go into the details of why he was in bed so late today even though Peter must have some idea by now.

The brothers looked at one another for a few moments longer as though unsure what to say. Edmund was beginning to feel very angry with Peter for not yelling at him. He was sure that if Peter had discovered him in a similar situation a little more than a year ago, that he would have been very angry. Perhaps not as upset as if he had found Susan or Lucy in a similar situation, but angry all the same. Edmund knew what Peter was thinking, knew that his brother was so glad that it was a girl that he wasn't going to say anything much to him.

"Are you going to marry Lady Alette?" Peter asked.

"What! No," Edmund said. "Aslan forbid," he added under his breath, shuddering.

Peter looked a bit stern. "If I had ever slept with a girl before my wedding, then I would have done the decent thing and married her."

"Well, good for you," Edmund said, sourly. He was becoming sick of Peter's proselytizing.

Peter didn't press the issue. "Wear something nice," he said, "lots of people are going to be at this event. I think that Aslan may even come. All of Ethnee's family is going to be there. I think that Lyla likes you."

Edmund cringed. Peter was right. Lyla was after him like some rabid animal. "I'm afraid I don't much like Ethnee's sisters. Marna is the only one in that family worth talking to … besides Ethnee of course," Edmund stuttered at Peter's glance, realizing his blunder a moment to late.

Peter ignored this. "We'll find you someone else, then," he said as though this were supposed to be reassuring.

Lucy

Lucy usually didn't mind awkward or embarrassing situations all that much. She had the ability to laugh things off and did not have the puffed up sense of pride that caused many people to become overly upset over those types of things. However, this situation was very awkward and it was all Roydon's fault.

Ikram had begun courting Lucy rather openly after he returned from a brief trip back to his own country and Roydon had reacted very strangely to it. He was always asking where Lucy had been or what she had done when she was with Ikram. He often inserted himself their private conversations and meetings. At first, Lucy had thought that he must be a little in love with her after all, but this couldn't be because he still talked about Susan constantly despite the fact that Lucy was sure that Susan was barely aware that he existed. Then she thought that he must feel protective of her as a friend, but none of Lucy's other friends had reacted in this way. If Ikram had been considered to be somehow lacking then it might have been different, but as he was generally considered a noble, pleasant, and handsome young man, her friends were very encouraging. Then she thought that perhaps it was more like an older brother, but again, her own brothers hadn't acted anything like this. They had been a little reluctant, perhaps, about her having a real beau, but they hadn't acted overly hostile to Ikram or possessive of her. It was all very peculiar. Lucy probably would have become furious with Roydon and perhaps lost interest in him all together if his behavior had been of the brash, controlling variety that many men exhibited towards the women in their lives. However, Roydon didn't seem to be like this. His anger was directed much more at Ikram, of whom he was very suspicious than at Lucy to whom he seemed more hurt and confused than anything else.

At present, Lucy was sitting through an increasingly awkward luncheon with both Ikram and Roydon who had practically invited himself.

"Lucy," Roydon was saying to her. "I was hoping that you would visit the Quirrels with me tomorrow. I never see them anymore."

"I can't tomorrow Roydon," she said. "I promised Marna that I would sit with Ethnee – she is sick and likes to have family around."

"Perhaps next weekend?"

"We'll discuss it later," she said, frowning at him, sensible of the fact that it would appear rude to agree to go gallivanting with Roydon when Ikram was sitting right there – even if they were only friends. Roydon looked at her with more disappointment than she felt her words warranted. Roydon had rather childlike eyes and Lucy always felt so sorry for him when he was disappointed.

Ikram was always very polite, but his patience was understandably worn thin in Roydon's case. "Surely a … sociable … young lord such as yourself doesn't need a lady's company – a lady to whom you are wholly unrelated – just to go visiting."

"In this country, you don't have to be related to a woman or planning to marry her in order to talk to her. There is friendship between the sexes."

"Roydon!" Lucy reproved him.

"Are you suggesting that women and men cannot be friends in my country?" Ikram asked coldly. Lucy could see that this wasn't going anywhere good and she quickly intervened.

"Roydon," she said, giving him a significant look, "may I speak to you alone for a moment?" Of course he had to agree and when they had gone off a little ways, Lucy turned to him and sighed.

"You have to stop doing this!" she said.

"Doing what?"

"You know what I mean. You are being very rude to Ikram. Why are you doing this to me?"

Hearing it phrased in this way seemed to have an effect on Roydon. "I don't know, Lucy," he stammered miserably, running his hands through his hair in an absent way. "You're right. I tell myself that I am being horrid, but then I just keep doing it again and again as though I have no control over myself."

Lucy patted him on the arm. "You are probably just a little protective of me. Lots of people are, I guess. But Roydon, you must stop this."

"You're right. I'll try – I will stop, Lucy – Your Majesty." He gave her a half-hearted smile.