Chapter 9

The next morning, Taurin paid his customary visit. Melanie received him in the parlor adjacent to her bedchamber.
"How goes the battle, sister?" he said lightly, reclining in an armchair as if it were a haystack. Taurin and Leif were the only two in the whole province who referred to Melanie by her given name instead of "milady." Taurin, in addition, had taken to calling her "sister", referring to the popular assumption of Melanie as his relation. Melanie, after living most of her life as an outcast, rather enjoyed his consideration.
She told him all about the devastating results of taking matters into her own hands, and the way she tried to solve it. "And just the other day, another guild came from Ettinsmoor, so I allowed them to stay . . . under heavy regulation, of course."
Taurin looked skeptical. "But . . . I thought you told me last week that the Aslan-Spirit intended to rid Nast of the merchants. Isn't it defeating his purpose if you allow this guild to stay?"
His pointed questions brought up an unexpected rush of irritation within Melanie.
"It is not as if I'm letting them do their own thing!" she snapped, standing out of her chair. "They will account for every last particle they exchange, whether goods or money, and I have set rigid parameters against commercial dominance."
Taurin remained unconvinced. "Even so, Melanie, don't you think it might be disrespectful of the Aslan-Spirit? You spoke so reverently of him before."
Melanie rolled her eyes, intensely annoyed at her friend and one-time mentor. She glared at Taurin. "Need I remind you of your place, farm boy," she said icily. "I am the Lady of Nast, and I assure you I only have its best interests in mind!" She stormed into her bedroom and threw herself on the bed, fuming.
"Melanie."
Something within Melanie sank when she heard Aslan's deep, soul-piercing voice. She did not lift her head.
"Melanie!"
His tone grew more insistent, and with a guilty heart Melanie sat up, but still did not meet those great, noble eyes.
"Child, what have you done?" He asked the question very innocently, but Melanie couldn't help feeling that he knew all about it. Or, perhaps he didn't? If he only knew the circumstances, and not the logic behind them, perhaps Melanie could explain. After all, her actions hadn't been wrong . . . entirely.
Melanie finally raised her head, but Aslan no longer stood before her. Soundlessly, the great Lion had crossed the room and now stood at the window overlooking the Square. Melanie knew he could see the merchants doing their business, the business she had permitted, when he had expressly told her to let him divest the city of them. Guiltily, she watched him for any sign of disapproval, but Aslan remained neutral, merely standing, watching, his tail swaying back and forth.
"What have you done, Child?" Aslan finally broke that awful silence.
"I—" Melanie's voice cracked, and she realized with surprise that her mouth suddenly felt very dry. She swallowed, and her explanation came out a bit faster than she wanted it to, "I tried to do the right thing, Aslan, truly! I thought if I put a lot of restraints on them it would discourage them, maybe influence them to leave . . ."
"Yet they professed such admiration for you that you listened to your pride instead of to me, and promised them protection. Come here, Child."
Melanie attempted to regain Aslan's good graces by bringing the treasure-chest with her when she joined him at the window. "But see," she tried again, "I am not the only one they desired to honor. Here, they entrusted this treasure for me to give you." She started to open the box, but Aslan suddenly whirled upon her and snarled so fiercely and with such a terrible expression that she very quickly clapped it shut again.
"Melanie," he reprimanded her sternly, "you have fallen double-victim to your own pride, first in words, then in riches. Do I desire jewels and gold? Entire worlds are at my disposal, countries to do with as I please, what need do I have for tribute? Child, the sweetest treasure to me is a meek and humble heart!"
Tears itched at Melanie's eyes. "I'm sorry, Aslan," she said hoarsely, "I . . . I should have waited. I was wrong; Please forgive me."
Aslan's face relaxed, no longer so terrifying. "You are forgiven, Child, but here will be consequences for your decisions. By that chest you hold in your hands, evil will come to the world of Narnia."
Narnia! The Pevensies' land! And now it would be blighted because of Melanie! After all they had done for her in England, this was how she repaid them! Melanie felt more like a curse than ever.
"Look at the merchants, Melanie. Do you recognize any of them?" Aslan asked. Melanie—more determined now than ever to obey Aslan—studied each face as he bid, but shook her head, "No, I don't believe any of them look familiar. I've never seen them before."
"Look closer, my Child. Do you see the old man in the far corner? You have seen him before now."
Melanie stared hard at the man. Now that Aslan suggested it, there was something familiar—vaguely so—about the way he smiled. Melanie watched him accept money from a villager, grinning as he pocketed the money. Instantly, she knew.
"Yes! I did see him! Five mo—no, I suppose it would be ten years ago! In this very market! Why then, they aren't from Ettinsmoor at all! Galor lied to me!" Hurt and anger broiled inside Melanie. "I must call Captain Pareshin and tell him to drive those lying thieves out of—"
"Melanie," Aslan interrupted, "Such action does not befit one of your position."
Melanie glanced at Aslan. "But he—but they lied to me! Therefore I have no obligation to keep my word!"
"You have that obligation, on your honor as the Lady of Nast, Melanie. You gave them your word, whether or not they told what was true."
Melanie sighed, "Couldn't you . . ." her voice trailed as Aslan gazed straight into her eyes. It must be professed that at this moment Melanie felt uncommonly silly. "I mean, would it be wrong if . . . you drove them out, and I had nothing to do with it?"
Aslan made a noise that Melanie thought—or hoped—sounded like a chuckle. "But you would, Child, for everyone knows of me through you, even if they do not know what or who I am."
The realization forced itself upon Melanie. Aslan resumed watching the marketplace. "The guild will remain in Nast forevermore, as a reminder to you of what pride is like: subtle, appealing on the surface, but damaging and extremely difficult to remove. Humility—like obedience—is a voluntary choice we must make."
"Yes, Aslan," Melanie agreed.
"I will leave you for now," the Lion continued, "but I will return again."
He turned as if to walk away, but Melanie called, "Aslan?" He slowly turned back to her. Hesitantly, Melanie asked, "How . . . how can I be sure of your return?"
She meant the question as a request for some sort of warning, perhaps even a scheduled date, but Aslan puzzled her profusely when he replied, "You may always be sure of my return."
Before she could ask the Lion what he meant, Aslan vanished. Melanie was left with the chest of jewels still in her hands. Wretched thing! The riches had lost their allure. The symbols carved into its sides, once so cunning and fascinating, now seemed dark and ominous.
"I'll destroy every last trinket in it!" Melanie cried with a vengeance, but as soon as she touched a diamond to fulfill her purpose, there was a flash that made her blink, and she found herself standing quite unexpectedly in front of a door in a dim, narrow hall, with her hand resting on the doorknob. Where was she now? Melanie tried the knob; it wouldn't move.
"It's stuck!" she cried . . . or would have, if her tongue had been working right. Instead, it did not seem that she made a noise at all. Everything was deathly quiet. Melanie realized where she was when Susan appeared next to her in the hallway, cast a baleful glance in her direction, and went into her room, closing the door behind her.
Melanie heard none of this, for in England, she was deaf once more. Now more than before, she was intensely discontent with her condition. She recalled what it had been like to hear . . . and she conceded that it was on account of being able to hear that she had been so swayed by Galor's fine words. It was through speaking that she had made such trouble for Nast. Melanie realized that such abilities were gifts, and she resolved not to take them so lightly. Perhaps being deaf and dumb has its benefits, she thought smugly as she walked downstairs.