Chapter Eight: The Professor Decides
"Um," Peter tried not to laugh, "Is that Logical, Ed?"
"No," Edmund said, "but it happened."
"It really happened! It happened just as much as last time!" Lucy cried.
Peter leaned back in his chair, "So you all say you've been to a magical land in a wardrobe?" he asked incredulously
"I didn't say so," Eustace said.
Edmund and Lucy stared at him.
"We were just pretending that Lucy's land was real, it passed the time." Eustace said. "It was Edmund's idea."
"Eustace!" Lucy cried, breaking into tears, "No one will ever believe me!"
"Lucy…" Susan said, Lucy pushed her away and ran out of the room.
"Edmund?" Peter turned on his brother. "It was you're idea?"
"No," Edmund for once was lost for words, "he – he got in! We had a fight there. I would never…" he faltered, realizing that Eustace had the stronger case.
"You donkey, Edmund!" Peter exclaimed. "And she had forgotten it! Now you've gone and set her off again! And Eustace…!" Peter turned on his cousin.
"I'm not going to stay and be lectured," Eustace said. He left, slamming the door behind him.
"Edmund!" Peter turned on Edmund again. "Why can't you ever learn?"
"I didn't!" Edmund exclaimed, staring up at Peter's blazing eyes.
"I can tell you didn't!" Peter's face looked like a thunderstorm.
"Why don't you and Su come and look at the wardrobe," Edmund said quickly, before Peter got his breath. "Narnia might be gone again, but it's worth looking."
"Oh, all right!" Peter said, "Come on Su."
When they reached the spare room, the wardrobe was reflected in a puddle of melting snow upon the floor. The room felt cold and it smelled of the great outdoors. Peter opened the door of the wardrobe and climbed in. The back of the wardrobe was hard and cold, Peter knocked on it and it sounded like any ordinary wardrobe.
"Well," he said, coming out again, "I can't explain the snow, but there is a back on that wardrobe," then he burst out, "But it's all impossible! How could it be?"
Susan tapped the snow with the toe of her shoe, "of course it's impossible."
"Well," Edmund said, "its jolly well true!"
Peter shot him a withering glance.
"It's no use standing around here," Susan said before Peter could say anything, "it's cold and we really have to do something about your eye, Ed, stop rubbing it."
Edmund started to follow Susan out the door, then stopped to inspect the dead bluebottle on the windowsill, "Eustace would like looking at that."
~o*o~
"What are we going to do about it?" Peter said. "I can't believe that Edmund would do that. He always has been the truest, bravest. He doesn't lie."
"I know," Susan said, "I suppose we could write mother."
The two elders were sitting in the upstairs den long after the others had gone to sleep.
"Maybe he and Lucy are making up a story so they can go back to London," Peter suggested lamely.
"But they seemed perfectly happy," Susan said, "And Edmund didn't believe it anymore than we did, before."
"It all seems very complicated." Peter remarked.
"And what about the snow?" Susan asked remembering. "There's no way to can explain that away!"
"I think we should talk to the professor," Peter said, "He might know what to do."
"Right," Susan said, "We'll talk to him first thing in the morning."
They went to bed; Susan had nightmares about snow on the floor in a house in the middle of summer. Peter dreamed about magical lands thick with adventures and beautiful swords. Edmund dreamed about white wolves, their piercing blue eyes and angry older brothers with burning brown eyes. Lucy dreamed about dryads and talking rabbits. And Eustace? His heart was turning cold; he could feel it, a burning frozen pain in his chest. It frightened him.
~o*o~
The next morning Peter, with Susan behind him, knocked cautiously at the door of Professor Kirke's study.
"Come in!" came the eager call.
Peter opened the door and the two of them walked in.
"Well, well, what a surprise! Do sit down," the professor said, "Now what would you like to tell me about? I'm all ears."
"It's our sister and brother and cousin, sir," Susan said, getting over her shyness and coming out from behind Peter, "something is going on."
"Oh, really? Is that true?" the professor looked at her encouragingly.
"Yes," Susan went on, inspired by his interest, "It all started when my sister said she found a magical land in one of your wardrobes last week. She called it Narnia and says that she met a satyr there, saw a lamppost and she says it was snowing. She said she had tea with the satyr, then she came back. Oh, she said the satyr said there was an evil witch there.
"We thought she had forgotten it, but yesterday she brought it up again and my younger brother says that he was there, too. My cousin says it was all rot, but Edmund and Lucy said that he was there too."
"Oh really," the professor nodded a few times, "and pray, what are you worried about dear girl?"
Susan's jaw dropped.
"We are just afraid there might be something wrong with them," Peter said, "or they are lying. She sticks to it you see, she swears they really were there. Edmund, up to yesterday thought it was all a joke, but now he's deadly serious."
"You think they might be mad, then?" the professor laughed, "you may rest easy there, they are not mad. If they were mad then they would be wondering about the house pointlessly and I would have gotten rid of them long ago, as for lying…which is generally the more truthful? Your sister and brother or your cousin?"
"Up till now I would say Edmund and Lucy," Peter said. "Somehow I can't disbelieve them even now."
"I'll have to agree with Peter," Susan put in.
"There, you see then," the professor said, "if they are not mad and they are not lying, then they must be telling the truth. What else could it be but the truth? Nothing is more logical." The professor looked up suddenly, "How, long was your sister in the wardrobe the first time?"
"Oh, not long," Susan said. "We were playing hide and seek and I was counting. I counted to two minutes and she was back before I finished."
"Well," The professor said, leaning back and pressing the tips of his fingers together, "How probable is it that your sister could have come up with a Magical land with a name and a satyr and a witch all in less than two minutes?"
"Maybe she came up with it beforehand," Peter said.
"Did she mention anything that might have something to do with it to any of you beforehand?" the professor asked.
"No, at least, nothing I can think of," Susan said.
"And that brings up another point." The professor said, "Your sister is at an age that if she were to come up with a story like that, it would be a whopper. Nothing so mundane as having tea with a satyr. She would at least have killed a few giants while she was at it, or even disposed of the witch. Logic! What do they teach them in these schools?"
He put on his spectacles and began writing on a sheet of paper, "logic, logic, what do they teach them in these schools?" he murmured.
"But sir?" Peter said, "A magical land?"
"It's impossible!" Susan exclaimed.
The professor looked up again and whipped off his spectacles, "what's so impossible about it? My dear people please use your imaginations."
Peter and Susan stared at each other, then at the professor, who was writing again.
"Well," Peter stood up, "I suppose we should go now, we've taken up lots of your time already."
"Well have a nice day, you two," the Professor said, looking up and polishing his spectacles, "Oh, and while I'm thinking about it, I should tell you that this is a very grand house, some people like to come and see it. So I would advise you to keep away from my housekeeper while she has a tour, she's quite touchy about these things. Oh, and Mrs. Kirke is arriving here the day after tomorrow from her mother's."
"How-how is her mother?" Susan asked shyly.
"Very well actually," The professor said, "she had pneumonia, but she has heeled quite nicely."
"Thank you very much for your advice, sir," Peter said.
"Gladly given," the professor said, "One more thing: Please avoid putting the suit of amour on while my housekeeper is in the area, it upsets her immensely. Before you put it on just make sure she's not around."
"Yes sir," Peter said sheepishly.
"Well, how do you like that?" Peter said as he closed the door, "that chap believes them! I feel like everybody is going insane! Eustace included."
"Peter Pevensie, you didn't put that suit of amour on!" Susan started to stalk him down the hallway.
"Well…um…"
~o*o~
"How could you, Eustace?" Edmund hissed, backing Eustace into a corner. "He doesn't believe me now! You know what that means? It means he'll never trust me again!"
"Mind your own business, Edmund," Eustace said.
"My own business?" Edmund exclaimed, "You've ruined my business! You've ruined everything!"
"Go away." Eustace said. "Or else I'll punch your nose, even if I am a pacifist."
"Look here, Edmund," Peter said, spinning his brother around, "Stop torturing him, he doesn't deserve it."
Edmund stared at him a moment, then shook free and stalked down the hallway to find Lucy.
"He is such a little liar," Eustace said lightly. "So's Lucy," he added for good measure.
Peter looked down at him in disgust, then walked after Edmund.
Edmund looked back, then turned into the den and tried to close the door. Peter caught it and followed him in.
"Look, Edmund," Peter began. "We said we'd keep it mum. Let's forget about the whole thing."
"Can't." Edmund said. "Don't you understand? I was there! I can't just say it didn't happen, that would be lying."
Peter stared at him wide eyed.
"Are you all right?" he asked at last.
"No." Edmund muttered.
"Well," Peter paused. "Let's…let's go take apart that suit of armor."
"Right," Edmund said miserably, "Might as well learn how, Narnia looks like the sort of place where one might need a suit of armor."
Peter stared at him.