Chapter 16 – Suspicions
When Edmund woke the following morning, Amon eagerly greeted him, his smile rekindled for the day ahead. They exchanged greetings before Edmund made his way towards a large water barrel standing beside a tree. There he found a clay bowl and filled it with water. Rolling up the loose sleeves of his chemise, he stooped to splash the cool liquid on his face.
Amon said nothing, but simply watched from a distance. Edmund noticed the boy awkwardly standing there and requested kindly, "Will you bring me my jerkin? It's in that small chest." He motioned with his head.
"Of course." Amon dashed over to a small chest sitting beside Edmund's sleeping roll. He unfastened the catch and flung open the weightless lid. He grabbed the blue jerkin on top and stood up to deliver it, but caught sight of a piece of paper protruding from the pile. He carefully picked it up.
"Who is she?" Amon's awe-filled voice reached Edmund over the sound of the water lapping in the clay bowl. Edmund turned around, water droplets sliding down his forehead and cheeks. Amon held up the paper. Edmund knew the face. Strands of golden hair escaped her braid and a wide smile stretched to each corner of her mouth. It was a sketch of a much younger Lucy.
Suddenly, all the memories Edmund had tried so hard to move past surged in his mind again. He gingerly took the drawing from Amon, careful not to let any water fall on it.
Amon wasn't sure, but he thought he was a tear slip from the corner of Edmund's eye and slowly mingle with the other water droplets clinging to his face.
"Who is she?" Amon repeated, peering over Edmund's arm. "She's beautiful."
"Yes," Edmund agreed, though his voice sounded hollow in his own ears. "She is my sister, Queen Lucy the Valiant."
"I had a sister," Amon remarked quietly, his eyes clouded with sadness.
"What happened? Edmund asked softly, noticing the boy's use of past tense. He waited, thankful for a diversion from his own grief.
Amon unconsciously shivered. "She-she was taken."
"Taken?" Edmund frowned. "By whom?"
Amon swallowed hard. "By them." He turned away. "I don't want to speak about it." Though Edmund gently pressed him, Amon refused to say anymore.
Yes, Edmund thought. There certainly is a deep secret lurking here.
"What's going on?" Aravis exclaimed, happening upon Susan and Cor still waiting in the hall. Cor quickly scrambled to his feet as she drew nearer. Susan rose up as well.
"Aravis." Cor caught her hand.
"What happened?" she demanded, noticing the trails of the tears still wet on his cheeks.
"It's Corin," Susan gently began to explain. "He's been injured. There-there was as assassin in the castle." Her voice faltered as a thought rose in her mind. What if the assassin was still in the castle? What if he was waiting to strike again?
"An assassin?" Aravis exclaimed. She glanced worriedly at Cor. "Are you alright?" The boy nodded bravely. Susan could tell that he felt more upset than he was letting on. Her own brothers often used such tactics around her and Lucy.
"Where's Corin now?" questioned Aravis.
"The healers are with him now," Cor answered quietly. "They are stitching up the wound."
Aravis said nothing, but by the grimace on her face, it was obvious that she understood the gravity of the situation. The reassuring promise of the healing cordial still echoed in Susan's mind. The three waited quietly in the hall. Time trickled past, felt most keenly by Cor. Just when they began to think they could not stand the suspense, the door opened and the head physician emerged.
His short, scraggly hair and sharp, darting grey eyes gave him a hasty appearance. Over all, he was a rather unimpressive centaur. His hands that were dirty (with what, Cor didn't want to know) as he hid them behind his back.
"We are finished," he announced. "Prince Corin is a strong and healthy youth. He should be able to recover."
Susan nodded, feeling relieved that she would not need to use Lucy's healing cordial, at least for the moment.
"Prince Corin is sleeping. I would advise you not to disturb him," the healer reminded.
"But can we see him?" Cor asked, breathlessly awaiting the answer.
"If it were up to me, I would not let you," the healer retorted. "However, if you feel that you must seem him this instant, you may enter."
Cor glanced as Susan, his eyes pleading. He wanted to see Corin for himself. Susan nodded her consent. Aravis felt nearly as anxious as Cor. She couldn't understand how Cor and Susan managed to act so calm in such a situation.
Cor entered the room first, Aravis close upon his heels. Susan lingered behind a moment longer to thank the healer and ask him for a few further details.
"What are the exact complications?" Susan asked.
The centaur fiddled with his hands. "The dagger sank deep, quite deep. The prince has a punctured lung."
Susan pressed her hand to her mouth in shock. "Can you fix it?"
"I-I cannot say for certain." He hesitated. "It is possible that he might develop pneumonia. And if that happens, more than likely his lung shall collapse." He glanced through the door towards Cor. "Silly though it seems, I did not have the courage to tell his highness."
"I understand," Susan assured. "This is all so sudden and severe."
"I know." The healer nodded. "I will do all in my power to help him, but if the situation steadily declines, then I think that Queen Lucy's healing cordial will be required."
Susan nodded. "I will keep it at hand. Please, don't hesitate to let me know how things truly stand. I think that you were right to keep this from Cor." She added, "And from Aravis."
"Thank you, my Queen." The centaur bowed to her, and Susan turned towards the room. When she passed through the doorway, she saw that Cor already knelt beside the bed and gazed intently at his brother. Aravis stood a few paces away, looking very concerned.
Corin slept, looking as normally as he did every night, lying on his stomach, face turned to the side for air. But the first unusual thing Susan noted was his irregular breathing; raspy, almost painful sounding. A few tears began to trail down Cor's face again as he watched his brother.
"And to think that I'd been having a lovely time in the garden while-while this occurred!" Aravis muttered sharply to herself. "Poor Corin!" Susan put a comforting arm around the girl's thin shoulders and held her tightly, but Aravis didn't cry. However, she said no more.
"Cor?" a hoarse voice whispered.
Cor's head jerked up in surprise as the blue eyes of his brother slowly opened. "Corin!" His voice held unmistakable relief.
"Can I—" Corin broke off as he began to cough. "Can I have a drink?"
Cor glanced over his shoulder, not quite ready to leave his brother's side so soon.
"I'll get it," Susan offered, noting his gaze. She hurried away, and Cor turned back to his brother. Susan brought a glass of water and gingerly helped Corin roll to his side so he could drink. When he finished, he returned to his former position.
"I suppose you are going to question me now," Corin announced quietly, his breathing still irregular.
"No, just rest," Cor instructed. But he hesitated. "Why didn't you call for help? I'm sure that one of the guards would have heard you."
Corin looked up in disbelief. "But I-I blew Queen Susan's horn! Didn't you hear it?"
Susan shook her head.
"I think-I think I did," Aravis admitted. "But I just brushed it aside. I didn't think anything of it. I didn't know that it was Queen Susan's horn!"
Susan frowned. "But Father Christmas promised that help would come to whoever blew it!"
"No one-no one came," Corin stammered. "Why didn't it work?"
Out of the silence that followed the question, Cor slowly raised his eyes and quietly announced, "I think—I think it did."
"Why, what do you mean, Cor?" Aravis asked in astonishment.
Cor frowned thoughtfully. This thought had been troubling him ever since Corin revealed he had blown the horn. Cor struggled to explain. "After Queen Susan fainted, I sat beside Corin, and I heard a Voice. At first I thought it had to be the assassin, waiting to strike another person. But it wasn't. It was Aslan."
"You're sure?" Susan asked.
Cor nodded. "I saw Him."
"Do you think He came because I blew the horn?" Corin asked.
"I don't know," Cor replied, chewing his lip. "Maybe…" But he didn't finish his thought.
"Boy!" The hiss drew his attention towards the bushes. Amon slowly trotted towards them, glancing over his shoulders to see if anyone watched him.
"Yes?" Amon whispered back.
A head emerged from brush and Amon took a step back, almost as if he recognized this man. "Hello, Amon." His smile seemed to glint in the sunlight, and Amon swallowed hard, his hands trembling at his sides. "You thought you wouldn't see me again, didn't you?" laughed the man.
Amon didn't move or answer, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest.
"Now, Amon, you know I don't want to harm you," he continued. "But our master grows impatient. Time is running out!" the Telmarine warned. "You know what happens if you fail."
Eyes blazing, Amon seized the man's forearm tightly. "Don't you dare lay a finger on my sister!"
The man wrenched his arm from Amon's grip. "You better succeed," he threatened in a low voice before slipping into the bushes again.
Amon's heart speed slowly began to decrease. He realized that he suddenly felt light-headed. He sank to the ground, leaning against a tree. But soon he leaped to his feet again as a grim centaur stared down at him.
"Amon, lad, are you alright?" Oreius asked.
"Y-yes," Amon stammered nervously.
"I thought I heard someone threatening you."
"N-no, sir," Amon lied. Blood pounded in his ears. How much had Oreius overheard? If he knew, it would cost them everything.
"If something was wrong, you would tell King Edmund or I, wouldn't you?" Oreius asked. "We will help all we can."
"I don't need help." Amon scowled. You can't help me, and even if you could, if you knew what I had to do, you wouldn't help me.
"Very well," Oreius replied, his deep gaze lingering on the dirty face of the boy. Slowly, he turned and began pacing away.
Amon tried to shake himself from the trance but to no avail. He groaned. Why did this have to be so hard? He wished that King Edmund wasn't such a kind person. But there was no room for wishful thoughts. No, Amon hardened his resolve. He had to do this. It was the only way to save his sister.
"I promised," he whispered, hoping that the reminder would force him to act. But the sketch of Lucy flashed before Amon's eyes. How sad she would be when she learned of her brother's – no. He couldn't afford to think that way. He had to do this for his sister and his mother. Another unwanted thought rose in his mind. Would they be proud? He hardened himself against the thought. Of course they would be!
He pushed all thoughts aside and craned his neck, searching for Edmund. He took his time hurrying forward, trying to appear casual. At last he spotted Edmund, who looked as if he slept with his back against a tree. Amon softly approached. A smile spread across his face when he realized that Edmund indeed slept.
Amon turned on his heel and strode swiftly towards the area where he had slept the previous night. He took the blanket from his pack that leaned against the tree. He tucked it under one arm and returned to where Edmund napped. Amon reached down to seize Edmund's sword.
But a strong hand flashed out and caught his wrist, refusing to release. "Amon? What are you doing?"
Amon glanced up with terrified eyes into the stern face of Oreius.
"N-nothing," Amon lied, inwardly cursing himself for his cowardice.
"Nothing?" the Centaur questioned.
Amon fumbled for the blanket. "I was simply going to cover him up."
Oreius's dark eyes flickered towards Amon's other hand that clasped Edmund's sword. "What were you doing with his sword?"
"Moving it out of the way!" Amon snapped, shrugging off the grasp of the centaur. "Why don't you trust me? Just because I am a Telmarine doesn't mean that I am not trustworthy!"
"I never said you weren't," Oreius answered, eyebrows raised at the lad's strange behavior.
Amon sighed angrily, eyes flashing. He played his part well. Too well. He continued, trying to confuse Oreius even more. "I should have listened to Uncle. He said that Narnians were simply suspicious, selfish, and wild beasts."
Neither Centaur nor boy noticed that Edmund had opened his eyes, and listened intently to the argument. Edmund felt puzzled and genuinely confused to say the least. This wasn't the same Amon that had admired his sister only an hour or so previous. Something or someone had upset the boy, and Edmund felt determined to solve the mystery.
Oreius seemed a monster to Amon as he reacted to the boy's careless words about himself and his countrymen. "Narnians are beasts. Talking Beasts, created after the image of Aslan himself!"
This was too much for Amon to handle. He knew that there was no use fighting. It was time to leave. But then that little pang of guilt enveloped him again, and he almost wanted to blurt out the truth.
Amon looked ready to stomp off, so Edmund scrambled to his feet and seized Amon's shoulders. "Amon! What's wrong? What's going on?"
"Let go," Amon hissed, twisting away. "I thought we were friends. Friends don't accuse each other of these things." He let out a harsh laugh, but inside he was choking on tears. "Now, I know I was wrong." He turned on his heel and dashed away, careful to hide the tears threatening to stream down his cheeks.
Edmund glanced at Oreius. "What was that for?"
"I am sorry, King Edmund," Oreius replied quietly. "But it was for your own good."
"My own good?" Edmund derided. "What about Amon? You've hurt his feelings deeply."
Oreius shook his head. "This is what I mean. He had fooled you completely and you are blind to his malice."
"Oreius, how can you still mistrust Amon?" Edmund demanded. "He has done nothing but help us, and all you repay him with is doubt?" Edmund sighed and softened his tone. "Oreius, I appreciate your protection, but all the boy was trying to do was bring me a blanket."
Oreius chose to remain silent. He knew it was no use arguing with the king. Edmund was blind to the tool the Telmarines would certainly use against him. He knew that Amon was simply a way to cause Edmund to lower his guard. But Oreius wasn't going to let anything happen to his king, even if it meant momentarily hurting him.
Author's note: Happy Easter! Christ has risen!
Well, I'm back. Did you miss me at all? ;) Thank you, Psyche, for helping me work out a few medical developments! What did you think about the chapter? I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts! :D