Chapter Ten: Where Beauty Lies

Peter

The battle of the day before had been long and difficult, but Narnia had ultimately prevailed.

Peter was glad – too long he had been fighting in this war, and if things kept going the way they had today, it looked to be finally drawing to a close. It had been well over a year since he first arrived in the north of Narnia. He had only had one brief visit home in that time and he knew that much of his army was more weary than he. This war would end soon – today, if Peter had his way.

"Your Majesty, shouldn't I send a herald ahead to warn Wurg of our arrival?" asked one of Peter's generals, desperately, as Peter and his entourage headed toward the Giant camp.

"No," Peter told him firmly. "He should know that we are coming. And I don't care if he doesn't."

Wurg, was the Giant second-in-command. Their head general, Borboff, had been killed in battle the day before – apparently one of the young Narnian lords had fought him almost single-handedly which much impressed Peter as Borboff had been known as a very good warrior. Peter wished fervently that it was Wurg who had been killed instead of Borboff. Borboff certainly had no love for Narnians and, being fairly smart for a Giant, was actually a good leader. Still, Peter did not wish to see his death in the same way that he wished for Wurg's. Peter wanted to tear Wurg apart with his bare hands, a feeling that he had only ever borne for one other person – the White Witch – and only then after she had nearly killed Edmund.

Wurg was known for his brutality in battle and his cruelty towards Narnians, in particular. He was commonly rumored to torture prisoners for sport and his armor was adorned with the bones of his enemies. It was quite gruesome. Peter had never met with Wurg before, preferring to deal with Borboff. This meeting did not prove a pleasant one. Wurg certainly did not behave as a general who had just been thoroughly bested, though Peter noticed that he was not wearing any of his bone embellishments. Wurg actually had the nerve to laugh when Peter entered the room.

"So, Little Man, you have shown up at last, have you?"

Several of Peter's attendants swords at this. "You will address His Majesty, King Peter with the proper respect," one of them said, pointing his sword at Wurg rashly. Peter gestured for them to lower their weapons.

This display caused Wurg to laugh all the harder. "So you are the great King Peter I've heard so much about," he taunted. "Honorable and brave, they do say, though he uses the battle tactics of the coward and the sneak." This caused another upset among Peter's attendants and Peter himself put his hand on his sword hilt. His battle tactics may have been unconventional, but that Wurg would dare accuse the Narnians of playing unfairly after all that Wurg himself had done was insulting.

The Giants had proven a difficult foe to fight. Even once Narnia managed to build a force that far outnumbered them, it could often take ten men to slay one Giant. Narnia, of course, had a few Giants on its side, but the number was small. Until recently, Peter's main tactic in battle had been to attempt to put the Giants' eyes out with arrows or with the pecking of Talking Birds. Peter had tried a new tactic in the recent battle: fire. When the Giants were set on fire, they would usually run about wailing madly instead of rolling on the ground as any sensible person would do. The fires themselves often killed or seriously injured the Giants, and if they did not, they became easy prey for the Narnians.

"Wurg," Peter said, a bit surprised at how steady and authoritative his own voice sounded. "Your army has been greatly injured in the recent battle between our two peoples. You have little chance of overcoming Narnia. Shall we come to terms?"

"Terms, he says," Wurg muttered as though talking to someone else and not Peter himself. "And I suppose that these terms would include giving over our lands to Narnia?"

"What use has Narnia for this cold north?" Peter asked disdainfully. "No. We only ask that you quit attacking our people."

"We will not stop attacking those who move onto Giant lands!"

"I have discussed this issue with your leaders before," Peter said, gritting his teeth. "Narnians have not been trying to encroach on your land. It is you Giants who began raiding in the South, most likely to steal and murder in the most barbarous way imaginable–"

Peter was referring, of course, to the fact that Giants often ate their victims. Wurg seemed unimpressed. "Go home, Little Peter," he boomed, "You sure haven't beaten us yet." Peter bristled at such a dismissal – and when he had attempted mercy -- but he knew better than to draw arms in the middle of a Giant Camp with only a few retainers. Even Wurg knew better than to kill Peter in cold blood – nothing would incite the Narnians to battle quicker.

Peter left the camp feeling disappointed as well as frustrated. He had hoped that the war would be over soon and that he and the rest of the Narnian forces would be able to go home. Peter missed beautiful Cair Paravel and he felt that he barely even knew his own children. At the moment, however, the thing that Peter needed most was sleep – something he had not had in two days. When he returned to his own camp, however, one of his retainers told him that the young man who had killed Borboff was waiting to see him in his tent, as Peter had requested. Peter sighed with exhaustion, but agreed to meet with the man.

Once Peter had entered his tent and sat down at his table, he realized that he knew this young lord. Though he had grown a short beard, Peter recognized him as the boy who used to run about with Lucy all the time – Roydon was his name. A boy, Peter thought of him, though he was probably not much younger than Peter himself.

"My Lord Roydon," Peter said, and he could tell that Roydon was flattered that his name was remembered. "Nearly everyone I have met today has told me tales of your bravery. On behalf of Narnia, I would like to think you."

Roydon shrugged, embarrassed. "I simply saw what I needed to do. I don't know what everyone is making such a fuss about."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "Borboff was a very fierce warrior and you killed him nearly alone. That takes courage."

Roydon shrugged again. "I only hope that I get a chance to help again."

"Ah, yes, you are injured aren't you?" Peter asked brusquely, gesturing to Roydon's arm which was bandaged.

"It is only a broken wrist, Your Majesty," Roydon said.

"Still, you won't be much good for several weeks, at least," Roydon's face fell at this pronouncement. "I would recommend that you spend a month or two in Cair."

"But Sire, isn't the war almost over, anyway?"

"Perhaps," Peter said, grimly. "Perhaps not."

Peter rather hoped that Roydon would go home for a bit. He seemed to remember that Lucy used to fancy him and he certainly thought that Lucy could do far worse for herself.

Susan

Susan was sitting in Terebinthia's capital city of Elondos at a very dull dinner party. She was wearing a dress covered in cheap red gems and watching as two women seated a little down the table from her were quite obviously talking about her. Susan sighed. It wasn't as though this were anything new. She thought that when she convinced Torim to take her to the capital city that things would get better – she would have people to talk with, parties to go to, but this was not so. Everyone seemed to be talking about King Torim's strange foreign bride, but no one much talked to her. She had been quite surprised at these people's reaction to her. Susan had certainly never thought herself a tomboy, but these people seemed to think that her tendency to speak of "men's matters", something that no Narnian lady would have hesitated to do on occasion, was terribly strange.

A few weeks ago, Susan had decided to brush up on her archery as she was woefully out of shape since coming to Terebinthia. Torim had found her and grabbed her arm rather roughly, asking if she meant to make a fool out of him. He told her that half the kingdom would soon be talking about it. She had thought he was exaggerating, but he wasn't.

Of course, Susan would have liked to be back in Narnia by now, but she had to admit that Torim was right about not leaving at the moment. Her daughter, Ambrosia, had first been too tiny to travel and Susan was loath to leave her in this wretched place. Now that her daughter was getting a bit older, it was the worst season for gales and Susan was afraid to leave.

"Are you feeling well, dear?" Torim asked her mildly, when she excused herself from dinner early.

"Oh, yes," she gave him a weak smile. "Just a bit tired. I think I'll go straight to bed."

She didn't go straight to bed, but instead went up to check on her daughter. Ambrosia was really one of the only things to enjoy on the wretched little island. Still, Susan could not suppress a vague feeling of disappointment every time she looked at the child. Ambrosia, Susan could not deny, just wasn't pretty.

Like most good-looking people, Susan valued beauty greatly. She actually thought that Ambrosia looked a good deal like Torim and she wondered why she never noticed that Torim wasn't particularly handsome before. Still, the baby was very cute and seemed to be bright and healthy.

Torim had been disappointed that the baby was a girl and not a boy. He had wanted an heir to his kingdom and when Susan pointed out that their daughter would be Queen of Narnia some day, he had brushed it off as though meaningless. In Narnia, Ambrosia's birth would have been greatly celebrated. Here, Susan knew that many saw a daughter as a failure.

The baby was awake and Susan picked her up, cradling her in arms. Ambrosia cooed and Susan smiled at her.

"Soon, Mother and Father are going will take you out of this dreadful city and we won't come back for a good long time, will we?" The baby looked at her so attentively that Susan almost expected her to answer.

She put Ambrosia back in her cradle and waited until the baby fell asleep. Susan herself sat in a sort of half sleeping daze for a good long time. Presently, she decided to go find Torim and tell him that she was feeling fine and had just needed to get away from that dinner party. She thought he seemed concerned about her.

She searched for him for quite some time, but could not find him in any of his normal places throughout the castle. She finally concluded that he must have gone to bed, though the hour was still quite early. She walked through the long, rather dirty corridors, to his bedroom – their bedroom, she had to remind herself, though she sometimes slept in a little room beside Ambrosia's.

Susan opened the large oak doors, but what she found shocked her.

Torim was lying on their bed, but wrapped around him was a half-dressed blonde girl. Susan stopped dead in her tracks and made a choking sound in the back of her throat. Torim stirred and sat up a bit and their eyes locked. Susan opened her mouth to say something scathing, but no words came to her. She simply turned around and walked quickly back to her little room. Tears stinging her eyes, she began to take out some of her clothes and tossed them on the bed. She couldn't think – all she knew was that she had to leave.

Torim wasn't far behind her.

"Susan! Susan!" he cried, upon finding her about ten minutes later. He grabbed both her hands to stop her frantic movements. "Listen to me. That was –"

"I'm leaving!" Susan barked out. She was a bit shocked at the harshness of her own voice. "Tomorrow. Get one of your ships –"

"You are not leaving," Torim said quietly, letting go of her hands.

"Yes, I am." Susan said, outraged that he would even try to argue with her at the moment. "I'm going back to Narnia," here her voice took on a slightly superior air. "You can do what you like."

"You can't leave."

"Yes, I can," Susan insisted.

"No," Torim said loudly grabbing her by both arms and pushing her harshly into a chair. "No, you can NOT." His eyes were wide with anger and Susan shrank from him in fear. She was coming to the realization that Torim meant to keep her here by force. She began to tremble and sob softly.

"I am sorry that you had to see that, Susan," he said, as though being very reasonable. "But if you keep to your own affairs then you need not see anything like it again. You are my wife. Do you understand what that means? You are to remain here with me."

Susan began to tremble. She was so angry with him. It had never occurred to her that he would have an affair. She had always been the desired one. Torim ignored her and called a servant. He was going to post a guard outside her door!

"You cannot just keep me here!" Susan said, but her voice sounded unsure. "My brother—"

"Your brother is far away, my dear," Torim's voice was slightly mocking. "You've already been here far longer than you intended and so far, no army has come to fetch you. I do not believe that will happen now."

Susan wrapped her arms around her legs, feeling very small. She moved as far from him as possible, disgusted with the idea of him trying to touch her.

"You should get some sleep," Torim told her. "You look awful." He did not look at her as he said these words and he left rather abruptly. One thought filled Susan's mind: she had to get off this island.

Edmund

Parties were fewer and smaller with Peter and Susan gone from Cair Paravel. This suited Edmund fine, as he didn't much care for parties, anyway. This dinner party, though modest in size, seemed to be going over well. There were fewer nobles in Narnia since the war with the Giants began. Across the table from Edmund, Lucy was laughing and talking to a young faun whom Edmund didn't know. Beside Edmund, Marna and her lover, Jolie, were whispering and Edmund was trying his best to ignore them. A bit down the table, a young man named Lotos was giving him sidelong glances across the table and Edmund was trying to ignore him as well. Edmund had slept with Lotos a couple of times, but he was tired of the fidgety lord, and, if he were being honest, didn't even really like him.

Edmund supposed that he could look for someone else during this party, but the process of finding a lover was always terribly awkward as well as fearful. There had been several before Lotos and though the physical aspect was enjoyable, Edmund still felt almost as indifferent and about them as he had with all those girls he was with before he was married. Edmund drank his last sip of wine, but Marna soon saw to it that his goblet was refilled.

"Edmund," Marna whispered, putting a hand firmly on his arm. "Won't you come and see me tonight?"

Edmund looked at her in surprise. He could have sworn that she would be with Jolie all night. Marna gave Edmund one of her sweetest smiles. Her dimples always were one of her best features.

"Sure," Edmund said, beginning to feel in a better humor. He had drank little, but he was beginning to feel a bit tipsy.

Edmund soon began talking animatedly with anyone who would listen to him. Lucy raised her eyebrows at him and giggled a bit. He could tell that she thought he was drunk, but that wasn't how he felt –exactly. After a while, Marna gave him a kiss on the cheek and left the room. Edmund soon followed her.

He was rather surprised to find, upon entering Marna's room, that she was lying on her bed with Jolie.

"Oh! I am sorry," Edmund said, blushing and turning his head, though they didn't appear to be doing anything terribly exciting. "I thought – er – never mind." He turned to go.

"No, wait! Edmund!" Marna cried. Edmund stopped, still feeling horribly embarrassed, and turned around to look at her. "Join us?" she asked.

Edmund's breath caught. "What?!" He heard the pitch of his voice go up. He cleared his throat. "Er, no. No, I don't think so." He knew that his face must be bright red and even Marna was blushing a little. He turned to leave again, but Marna leapt out of the bed and came over to him, putting her arms around him and whispering in his ear.

"Please Edmund, please do this for me," she said. "It would make it easier … for me."

"You are always so complimentary," Edmund said, sarcastically, rolling his eyes. They had been sleeping together. They wanted to have another child.

Marna backed away from him and shrugged her shoulders, looking at the ground. "I didn't mean it to be insulting. It is just … well, I'm in love with her, aren't I? Sometimes I feel guilty, being with you. This way I wouldn't have to feel guilty anymore." She still didn't look at him and Edmund didn't know how to respond to this. Presently, she kissed him, briefly. Jolie, who hadn't said a word until this point, came over and stood in front of him. She was prettier than Marna, really, and younger, though Edmund would guess that she was still a few years older than he. They looked at one another for a long moment before she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Her lips were full and moist and Edmund could feel her body through her thin silk dress. He was becoming curiously excited by this. Jolie drew back from him and looked at him with expectation.

"It's so ironic!" Edmund cried, seeing the humor of the situation. "Most men would kill to be in my – ah – position."

They both laughed at this as if were terribly funny. Marna took him by the hand and led him toward the bed.

Lucy

Roydon arrived back in Cair on a warm summer night. The first thing he did was take a walk along the beach for he had always found something exhilarating in the crash of the waves on the shore. Several other people were on the beach tonight, as it was a pleasant evening and the stars were bright. Roydon strolled some way down the beach just drinking in the beauty of the evening. Apparently, there had been a ball or a fancy party as there was a group of several ladies and lords in their dress clothes having a good time frolicking in tide. Roydon smiled and waved at them, thinking that he must look a sight in his travel worn tunic and cape. He walked just a bit further before turning back to look at Cair Paravel gleaming in the starlight.

Roydon sighed. It seemed more beautiful than ever, tall and white; it was almost shining tonight, as opposed to the rather ghostly look it sometimes took on. Roydon presently noticed a woman – a lovely woman – standing on the beach, a little apart from the other partygoers, facing the sea, and tracing the toe of her delicate shoe in the sand. Roydon gasped at the picture that she made, her form silhouetted against the castle, a lock of pale hair falling across her face. After a moment she frowned and turned toward him, almost as though she could feel his eyes upon her. She squinted her eyes and tilted her face to the side.

"Roydon?" she asked. Roydon opened his mouth to reply, but before he could she ran to him and threw her arms around him. "Roydon!" she exclaimed and his mind was swimming. This was Lucy.

She drew away and Roydon looked at her in amazement. Now that he looked closer, she didn't look so very different. Her hair was swept up whereas she normally wore it long, down her back or in a braid and her dark blue dress seemed a little more mature and thoughtfully selected than what she normally wore, but her beaming face still looked very much the same. Still, she looked very pretty – beautiful even – and Roydon wondered why he'd never noticed what a pretty young woman she was before now.

"I didn't know you were coming home," Lucy said, a bit reproachfully.

Roydon gaped at her a moment before answering. "It was rather sudden," he told her. "I got wounded and King Peter told me to take some time at home," Roydon called Cair Paravel home without hesitation now, though he had only lived there a few years.

"You were wounded?" Lucy's face clouded with worry and Roydon hastened to reassure her.

"It is not serious. Hopefully, I will be back at the front in a month or so." Lucy looked regretful that he would be leaving so soon and Roydon found that he regretted it also.

They began to walk along the beach, back toward Cair, and Roydon found that he was still fascinated by her. There was something unquestionably different – or perhaps just something he had never noticed before?

"I wanted to thank you for all your letters, Lucy," he said, after a while "I know that I didn't write to you quite as much as you wrote to me –"

"It's understandable," Lucy said, seriously. "You were at the war, Roydon."

Her sincerity and unselfishness only made him feel more guilty. "I've really missed you," he said, sincerely. "You've always been so – sweet," for some reason the word didn't seem quite good enough. Lucy laughed shyly, letting a tendril of hair fall across her face. Roydon was struck with the sudden desire to kiss her. Then he shook himself, angrily. This was Lucy.