Chapter IV
"Chailoghdan! Fetch Ginnarbrik and tell him to bring my flask. Lucy is cold."
"Yes, your eminence."
Lucy had been shivering earlier—not because she was cold—but because she was afraid. Apparently, the queen took the other assumption.
Naturally, not trusting her in the least, Lucy assumed the hot drink that the queen had produced with a drop of sparkling liquid from her carafe was some sort of poison—or perhaps a magical potion to weaken her resolve. But to refuse to drink? She hesitantly took it and carefully pretended to sip from it. She hoped that the perceptive queen wouldn't notice that the contents of the drink never diminished.
"There—" said the queen softly. "Feel better now?"
"Much better," said Lucy, with a small smile. Thereafter, she tried very hard not to look at the statue in the corner and his sad eyes.
"So—how many brothers and sisters have you?" inquired the queen in such a sweet, caring voice that Lucy almost answered without asking herself if there were any other reasons the woman wanted to know besides genuine interest. She tried to imagine what Peter or Susan would do in such a circumstance. Lucy hated to lie—it was so contrary to her nature—but she didn't know what else she could do. She had to protect her family.
"Uh…just one, your majesty. My older brother, Edgar." The queen appeared relieved. Then, she had misgivings.
"Are you certain? There are just the two of you? You and your brother?"
"Yes, your majesty!"
The queen seemed to have relinquished her kind and gentle façade. She now knew what she wanted most to know.
Unfortunately for Lucy, in this case, it may have been better for her if she had told the truth. If she had, the queen might have attempted to seduce her by other means and then release her in hopes of Lucy returning with her three siblings, Peter, Susan, and Edmund—something she never would have done. Now, however, there was no reason at all for her not to be rid of Lucy, since the queen obviously had nothing to fear from the prophesy of four thrones at Cair Paravel with only two humans to manage—and one of them already in her clutches.
She shoved Lucy off her lap (Lucy much relieved by this) and stood, stepping down from the dais without delay, and halfway across the glistening marble floor. She drew a deep breath of relief, shutting her eyes momentarily, and released it with slow deliberation. The wisps of warm mist she exhaled from her nostrils as if she was a proud stallion—self-assured, strong, wholly empowered even! The queen raised her eyes to the ice-cut chandelier on the ceiling and began to laugh darkly.
"You see, Aslan!" she cried in triumph. "You see! Your every plan has failed. None disloyal to me remain! Narnia is mine, and forevermore shall be! I challenge you—I do challenge even you—to hinder me! To keep me from ruling—not as an immortal queen, no, but a goddess—to the end of time!"
However assured she may have seemed at this point, it was clear that her confidence, though bolstered by this turn of events, was still not fully confirmed. She was glad, elated even, that she had caught this soon enough. It had been vexing her of late—she knew it was time to take care of it once and for all. She knew what she would do.
The queen turned—
"Ginnarbrik! Kindly bid Maugrim, Otmin, Zatinpé, and Orieus come! And hurry about it!"
"Yes, O queen!"
A few minutes later, a vicious, dark-furred wolf, a ferocious-looking Minotaur (who made Chailoghdan appear, in comparison, like a feeble, old bull), a long-tusked Minoboar, and a fair, but fierce centaur entered.
Lucy shrank back in fear, dropping the drink (which, upon impact with the marble floor, transformed into a pile of snow). The queen began barking orders almost immediately.
"Maugrim!" she said, now donning her elegant battle-gear. "Gather all your wolves—I want you to search every dwelling within ten leagues of my palace. I don't care how long it takes. You are to search for humans. If anyone resists you, kill them speedily. If you find any humans, bring them to me alive. Now, go!"
The wolf snarled his compliance, eyed Lucy warily, then turned and rushed out the door.
"Otmin, Zatinpé! Assemble one-hundred or so of your elite warriors. I want them ready to depart within the hour. To your tasks!" The minotaur and minoboar showed their obeisance and departed swiftly.
"Centaur—you have the pleasant task of guarding the puny human creature. I certainly hope you can handle it, because I expect you know what will happen if you fail. I dislike your race—that is no secret—(too aesthetically pleasing, for one thing) but perhaps you can prove yourself loyal one day and I can reconsider. Now, to it, at once!" The centaur bowed and accepted his duty.
"Ginnarbrik," the queen said finally, "prepare my snow-chariot."
Ginnarbrik egressed hastily.
While the queen finished adjusting her headpiece, Orieus ordered Lucy to sit as he held his immense sword in readiness over her. Even though Lucy was terribly frightened, she couldn't help but notice the beautifully glossy, chestnut sides of the centaur and his long auburn tail that swished every now and again in the tedium.
Finally, the evil queen deemed herself ready to depart. Her authoritative glance moved from Lucy to the centaur.
"I'll send a servant when I require the creature's presence," she said callously, sending her malice-filled glance to Lucy. With that, she turned swiftly and passed through the doorway, only to turn once more and slam the great doors with a resounding crash.
To Be Continued…
