And the same John had his raiment of camel's hair, and a leathern girdle about his loins;
and his meat was locusts and wild honey.
~ Matthew 3:4
"A child can ask questions that a wise man cannot answer."
~ Anonymous
X.
England
The Fifth Year of King Edward VII
The little boy went with Mr. Man back down the yawning tunnel, out the door and down the steps; then across the field he had seen earlier until they came to another thing that wasn't a burrow or a cave. It stood up tall from the ground, and Frank thought maybe it was a castle. There were more stairs to climb before they could go in, but it was warm inside.
"Susie!" called the Man. "Three for tea tonight."
The Man's mate came out of another room, and the boy looked at her carefully. The bad woman had black hair and red lips. Mrs. Man's hair was dark, but her lips seemed to be the same color as the rest of her skin. Pinkish. He bowed politely to her, and he bowed to the orange Cat that had followed her out of the other room.
"Gweeting, Mrs. Man," said he. "Gweeting, good Tat. What's your name?"
Mrs. Man laughed. "Why don't you call me Aunt Susie," she said. "Most of the children do. The cat hasn't a name. He's only been here a week."
Frank looked at the orange Cat and his stripes. "Stwipetail," he said. "Him's Stwipetail. Gweeting, Stwipetail."
The newly-christened Stripetail rubbed against Frank's leg. The boy placed his hand respectfully on the Cat's head, then knelt and whispered in his ear, "Bwessings on you, good tuzzin."
Stripetail purred.
"You're the first visitor he's taken to," said Mrs. Man—Aunt Susie.
Frank stood up, Yi under his arm, and looked carefully at her again. He decided that her hair was brown, like his.
"Well, teakettle's on," said Aunt Susie, "so come on in and make yourself comfortable."
With Stripetail at his side, he followed the Mans into the other room, where it smelled like tea and honey and warm bread. Mr. Man pulled up a chair, one of those stools-with-a-back, and sat down while Aunt Susie sliced the bread.
"Go ahead and sit down, Frank," she said, but he had already crawled under the red-and-white tablecloth.
Under the table was darker, and the checked cloth hung protectively close. Frank squatted on his haunches and placed Yi in front of him, beside Stripetail, who slid in and sat with his stripy tail curled around his toes. Yi's one eye didn't look straight at Frank, but glanced off to the side as a polite Nanimal's ought to. Looking straight at someone meant you were trying to catch them, like the bad woman was trying to catch Frank. But Aslan's eyes had looked right at Frank, and that had been warm and soft and safe. His forehead wrinkled, and he thought again of the bad woman.
Skin as pale as Swanwhite in silver days of old
Heart of frozen winter snow, powdery and cold
Lips as red as traitor blood, hair like darkest night—
Deliver us, Great Lion, from her cruel wand's chill bite!
Trees stand bare and broken, the River's sheathed in ice
Loyal Beasts and little Frank must hide like little mice.
He said it quietly to Yi and Stripetail, counting the lines on his fingers until there were six . Uncle Soot'will had made it up one night, and insisted on teaching Frank to say it. Aunt 'Ears'ry had laughed screechily and pointed out that he'd used "little" twice in the last line, but Uncle Soot'will hooted at her and asked if she knew how difficult it was to write poetry.
Overhead, Frank could hear Mr. Man saying to his mate, "He's rather an odd boy, I know, insisting he can see the spirits of trees and talking about a Lion who made him."
"Doesn't he have any parents?" said Aunt Susie. Her hair had white in it like Mr. Man's face-fur.
"He said not. Says he's been living in a badger sett."
"A badger sett. With the Borrowers, I daresay?"
"Now, Susie—"
"Now, Colin. You know that just because he followed you home doesn't mean you can keep him. I'm sure he has people somewhere looking for him."
The corner of the tablecloth lifted and Aunt Susie's face peered in. "Want a glass of milk, Frank?"
He nodded, reaching for Yi again.
"Come on out. We don't bite."
Frank thought he would rather drink his milk where he was, but he also thought Mrs. 'Winklewacks would say it was more polite to come out if Aunt Susie wanted him to. He crawled out and squatted with his back against a wall to drink his milk, peeking through the glass at the Mans, who watched him. He looked away. Stripetail wanted some milk, so Frank held it out and let the Cat lap what he wanted, then finished what was left himself.
Something whistled shrilly. Frank jumped and nearly spilt the milk, but Aunt Susie took the teakettle off the stove and the whistle went away. She pulled a third chair up to the table and put a thick book on the seat.
"Will you join us for tea, Frank?" She was smiling at him. He liked sitting where he was very well, but he got up and climbed awfully high onto the chair. Aunt Susie tied a napkin around his neck. Then she sat down next to Mr. Man and both of them folded their hands on the table.
"Fold your hands, dear, and close your eyes," she told him. He folded his hands, and he closed his eyes, but as soon as Mr. Man started talking to someone called "A'mighty Father" he opened his eyes to see who was there. Frank couldn't see anyone else in the room, but Mr. Man talked to A'mighty Father for a long time.
Then they had toast and honey and tea with lots of milk in it. Aunt Susie smiled at him, but she asked him lots more questions about where his parents were and where he lived, and she made him wipe his hands on the napkin, instead of on his buckskin breeches.
XII.
Telmar
The Thirty-Fourth Year of Chief Belisan
The sandy-haired young man watched as Peter silently untied their prisoner, who jumped away from Chrysophylax the minute he was able, only to have Peter stop him with a hand on the front of his shirt.
"Beware, Boanzir," he said, as he had said to Nothan."This time we release you, for our anger hath been assuaged. But step not foot in Narnia again."
"Or I will hunt you down," growled Loneruff.
"And I will help," hissed Chrysophylax. "Don't kill Narnian Bunnies."
"Aye—aye, sir," stammered Boanzir.
"Beware. And be off."
Peter let go of his shirt and the man ran off into the gathering twilight.
"Well," said Peter, turning to Peridan and Lucy. "Now that all that unpleasantness is settled, did I hear the Chief say something about a cabin?"
Peridan shifted uncertainly, then seemed to make up his mind. "Aye, sir. Right this way."
He led them south of the village to the grasslands where the livestock were pastured. "If your flying horses want to graze, they're welcome here. There is a stream not far from here where they may drink. Will the Wolves need meat?"
"No," said Loneruff. "We ate well this morning of last night's kill, and will not hunt until the morrow. We will stay here and guard the Winged Horses."
One of the Winged Horses pulled up a mouthful of grass. "Chewy, but not bad," he said, and whinnied to the rest.
Peridan looked at the Dragon and swallowed. "What does your dragon eat?"
"Chrysophylax eats bread and milk," said Lucy, patting his scaly shoulder. "What about you, Clearscry?"
The Eagle clicked her beak. "It's too dark to go hunting."
"Right," said Peridan. "This way, then."
Peridan stopped before a cabin that stood slightly apart, on the western side of town. There were wool curtains in the window and smoke curling up from the window. The door opened as they approached.
"Ahoy, Mother," called Peridan to the tiny woman in the doorway. She barely came up to his shoulder, and though Peridan looked barely older than Peter, she was wrinkled like an old woman—from the sun, Lucy thought.
Peter glanced at Lucy, then nodded respectfully to the woman. "Greetings."
Lucy curtsied.
The woman looked from Peridan to the visitors on her doorstep, her glance lingering on the Dragon.
"This is High King Peter of Narnia, Mother," said Peridan, "with his sister Queen Lucy of Narnia. They have flown all day and are weary."
"Oh!" She bobbed a curtsy. "I am—I am Gree. Welcome to Telmar, sir and miss. Come right in and be at home."
Chrysophylax curled up next to the door and put his head under his wing. Clearscry hopped down from Peter's wrist; she preferred to sleep in the open. Lucy and Peter followed Peridan into the cabin.
Inside was warm and cozy, with tallow candles throwing shadows on the walls. A pot of stew was simmering over the fire, three-legged stools waited around a table that jutted out from between the logs of one wall, and the single bedstead was made neatly with a patched quilt. In the corner a ladder led up to a dark hole in the ceiling.
"Our cabin is small, King Peter," said Peridan, after he had whispered something to his mother, "but there is love here and Aslan's protection. Chief Belisan, King of the Mountains, knew of your arrival and yet ordered no place prepared for you. The only empty cabin in town—it is larger, and was better furnished, but it belonged to Uvilas's brother and has been lonely for a score of years."
"We would not turn you out of your own home," said Lucy.
"Queen Lucy," said Gree, "I am told you spoke for my son's life today. Sit."
"Thankee," said Peter, pulling up one of the three-legged stools and folding himself down onto it. "You speak of Aslan. Are you Narnian?"
"My family has lived here for a hundred summers and winters," said Lady Gree. "I do not know from where we came before that, and I do not know who Aslan is, but my father and my grandfather taught me that he will protect us if we call upon him." She stirred the pot of stew.
"Who is Uvilas?" said Lucy, taking a seat. "Chief Belisan mentioned him."
"He was King of the Mountains before Chief Belisan," said Peridan. "When Chief Belisan was a young man, he killed Uvilas and took the Cutlass for himself."
"Hush, dears," said Gree, placing a wooden bowl of stew before each of them and handing them drinking horns of water. "No doubt there is much you do not know about Telmar, and there is much I yearn to hear of Narnia, but now you are weary. Eat—and drink, for you must drink plenty in the mountains—and we shall talk story tomorrow."
XI.
Narnia
It was the last day of the tenth month that the fire-breath of the Dragon brought the bubbling unrest to a rolling boil. "Do you know what else that King keeps in his castle? Beasts! Our cousins! Oh, certainly, they are not like us—they are dumb beasts. Yes, he bought them from Calormen—so he says. What's there to say that they weren't once good Narnians like you and like me, Narnian creatures whom by his wizardry he has made speechless and dumb, and whom he now keeps locked in those cruel cages for his visitors' amusement? Imagine a gilded cage, good Nightingale, enclosing you. Imagine being hung in a dark, stuffy castle chamber, far from the air, far from the flowers, far from the sky and the star-song. And you, canny Monkey, think how it would be no longer to climb the trees and swing through the sky, but to spend your days scratching yourself for the amusement of oiled Calormene Humans."
His red eyes roved over the growing crowd. "You there! Loyal Bear! How would you like sitting in a cage, fa from sticky honey and sun-sweet berries?"
The Bear scratched his head, wondering why he would be in a cage, but the rest of the creatures were listening, too, and muttering. At the edge of the crowd, a white-streaked Badger, Snuffleroot by name, cried,
"How do you know about this zoo, Dragon? I'm a good Badger, I am, and I know that not all Humans are wicked. What about our Queen?"
Milophylax fixed the Badger with a fiery eye. "What about her? Does anyone ever see her? Well? She's scared of us, just like the King. Why else would she hide in that castle with him? She sits behind her stone walls, filling the ears of her sons with lurid tales of the bloodthirsty beasts outside, does she not? Prove me wrong!
"As for the reliability of my information, there is a clear-headed Beast in Ravenswood whose nose is on straight and who has seen this zoo, these cages, these bars, with his own eyes. Now tell me, who has seen the Panther Nightshadow last? Can any of you tell me where he is? Was he not last seen at the New Year Dance, and did not my trusted follower Darksqueak hear him grumbling against the King?
"Good Narnians, my source in Ravenswood tells me there is a speechless panther chained in Drake's castle."
The crowd growled.
"Cousins, that Human has spies everywhere—even here among us now. That is why I have not told you the name of my informant, lest I risk his neck. Shall we wander away in apathy and wait for Drake's magicians to hunt us down, to drag us off, to magick away our speech and lock us in his infernal zoo, away from our sweet Narnian grass and clear Narnian air, that we may be the laughingstock of all his visiting royalty? Shall we?
"As long as that Tree with the silver apples, the very one under which I have spoken before, as long as it stands, so does Drake. When it falls, so does he. I, for one, shall not wait to be stopped, shall not wait to be put in my proper place as a dumb beast."
Yelling, cawing, barking, screeching, the crowd surged northward. The great Oak-God of the West led a forest of Dryads and Hamadryads; Pan himself piped at the head of a band of Fauns and Satyrs; the Dwarfs marched with drums beating and axes crooked over their shoulders; and a great rabble of Narnians of every race and species followed after. Milophylax's words had so permeated Narnia that at least one creature from every flock, gaggle, confusion, pack, murder, skein, den, parliament, pride, and clan was there—even several young, foolish Centaurs and an ugly, lumbering Giant.
They came to the place where the sacred Tree, the Tree of Protection, stood. Egged on by the mob, the Squirrels, the Birds, and the Monkey swarmed over it, stripping off the silver fruits and piling them in shining heaps. The Tree stood mute and unresisting, for she had no Hamadryad to protect her—no spirit but the magic planted within her for the protection of others—and she stood motionless as the hordes crawled over her passing the shining apples from hand to paw to greedily sucking maw, at least one piece for every creature. Then, giddy with rebellion, the Dwarfs rushed at the nine-hundred-year girth of the trunk. Shouting, chanting dirty choruses, yelling with wordless anarchy, every creature who could grip an ax took a turn and those who couldn't darted in and out and pecked and gnawed and shoved. And no one noticed the lone Eagle circling high overhead.
At last the ancient Tree groaned, like a living thing, and everyone scrambled out of the way. The great crown swayed, shorn of her glory; she arced, slowly gathering speed; she crashed with a thunder that made the earth shudder and was heard for three leagues.
Queen Althea heard the distant report as she sat by her window. She, too, shuddered, as an old woman shivers and says, "A bat flies over my grave." Quicktrack the Hound raised his head from his paws and growled faintly; the Queen laid down her knitting and crossed to where her sons lay sleeping in their cradles. She gathered them in her arms and sat a long time by the eastern casement, trembling with some unknown dread, until Clearscry came to tell what had been done.