The four of them met for supper in Peter and Edmund's tent. Lucy and Susan were then to be escorted back to the Cair until the next morning.
"The hare is not likely to wake until tomorrow morning," said Lucy as she ate the last few spoonfuls of her meal.
"He probably just got a fright," Edmund replied. "I just hope no rumors have been circling within the camp."
"I am sure there have been," said Susan. "But there are rumors all the time. I fear less the reaction of our people than I do the fact that we know nothing yet of our murderous enemy."
There was silence as they all finished supper, broken only by the sound of crickets in the grass outside and occasional footsteps passing. The two centaurs standing guard outside were noiseless, but Edmund could see their shadows thrown against the wall of the tent.
Peter shook his head slightly as he set his spoon down on the table. "There is no clue as to who is the culprit. The casket from which the poisoned bottle was taken was positioned among many others, all of which had been opened yesterday morning for inspection. The dog we were so fortunate to have warn us explored the site in an attempt to catch the scent of the culprit, but the amount of people who have been circulating the area is too high and it was impossible to pick out a single scent from it. The dryad who served it was overtaken with grief at the thought that she may have been responsible for our deaths if things had not gone the way they did, but she had entered that tent for the very first time that day, only having arrived at the Festival yesterday morning. The Goddess Pomona has vouched for her." He sighed. "It is strange. This does not seem to me the work of those who acted in the name of the Witch. It is sly, it is calculated and subtle, and they seem to have allies within the festival."
"It is not our own that worry me the most," said Susan, lowering her voice so that only her siblings would hear her. "I do not fear treason from Archenland, nor do I believe Galma or Calormen would be so bold as to strike at us in this manner, at this time, while they sleep on our land. But every country has its own criminals, and there are more personal feuds that can have equally fatal consequences."
"To strike on the very first day, though?" Lucy sounded skeptical. Her expression was more serious than Edmund remembered seeing it in a long time. "I would have thought they would wish to ensure a passage back home and not risk more opportunities to be caught."
"Perhaps it gives space for further attempts?"
"A single man does not think in this way," said Peter, leaning back in his seat. "Lucy is right. The strategy, the timing… it does not make any sense."
"Well, the drinks are now thoroughly inspected before being served, and so is the food. It will be very hard to fool Talking Beasts. Our guards are keeping close watch on the tents, and the girls will be moving to the Cair during the nights. I do not believe there is much more we can do," said Edmund.
"A coward's work, said Dorick," Peter murmured.
Lucy smiled. "Then with the Guard at our heels nearly every moment, I doubt there is yet any danger." She turned to Susan. "Come, sister. A long day awaits us tomorrow, and the dwarves of the Hill Caves have promised us warm bread for breakfast if we rise early enough!"
They departed with hugs and smiles despite the weightiness of their previous conversation. As Susan and Lucy left through the flaps of the tent and they heard the guards assigned to escort them back to the safety of the palace approach, a Faun entered and took the trays of dishes they had left behind. The Kings began to remove their clothes before bed.
Edmund felt exhausted. Though he himself hadn't participated in any of the tourneys, the mental stress of constant awareness of what happened around them and the prolonged concentration that the chess matches he had partaken in during the day had left him feeling weak and drained. His belt slid to the floor off the chair from which he had hung it, and he couldn't bring himself to bend down to pick it up. Instead, he pulled the blankets off the cot that had been set out for him and was soon buried under the crisp sheets, feeling as if his entire body was sinking into the mattress beneath him.
Somewhere, in a forest, he was running. He had left his horse behind him, or had his horse abandoned him? It had been a terrible idea, seeing as he was trying to escape. And as hard as he tried, he couldn't seem to run fast enough. Roots seemed to rise up from the ground at his very feet, seeking to trip him, and searching branches reached out like cruel arms that wished to strangle him. There was a bright light ahead, cold and white. He needed to reach the light. He needed to save himself.
He thought he heard Peter yell. He couldn't see a thing in the dark forest. But somebody was yelling, and it sounded like Peter. Or was it Susan? Lucy? There were voices he couldn't make out. They were coming from ahead of him; they must be searching for him. Perhaps they thought he was dead. He needed to let them know he was alive, that they needed to keep running. The light would save them.
He couldn't see anything behind him, but he could hear them. He could hear their harsh breaths at his back, chasing him through the trees. What had happened to the trees? They seemed dead. They looked like stone.
The light was so near now, he was almost upon it. The screams had grown louder. Where were they? He tried to call back but his voice was gone, as if it was a candle and somebody had suddenly blown out the light. How could he let them know? He was being chased. They needed to run. The light was so close…
And then he was inside the light, surrounded by it, blinded by it. His feet were stepping on rubble instead of tree roots. There was a shape ahead of him. Was it a lantern? He hadn't seen a lantern in a long time.
"I've missed you, Edmund." Her voice was soft, but it chilled him to the bones. Not you. Not you again. He wanted to scream, to tell her he was not the person she was looking for, but his voice was gone. "Come home, Edmund. I've been keeping a throne for you, little King… a throne here, at my side."
He needed to escape. He tried to run, his feet stumbling over the rubble, but he suddenly realized he was running towards her. The figure in the light grew closer, and he could make out the outline of the sharp blades of her ice crown, could feel the stabbing pain of her soulless eyes digging into his heart. He cried in pain and looked away.
Looked down. His hands were covered in blood.
A silent scream seemed to rip his throat out. Whose blood was it? He had a terrible, terrible feeling it wasn't his. He gave a step and stumbled against a rock, falling onto the cold rubble. Rushing to get back on his feet, he raised his bruised face and found himself looking at it.
It wasn't a rock. It was Peter's face, frozen into stone, a scream of agony on his dead face.
Terror and grief washed over him and the cold, cold wind suddenly blew against his face, freezing him to stone as well.
His eyes flew open.
He hadn't had a nightmare about her in ages.
He closed his eyes tightly, trying to shut out the imagery. He supposed it had something to do with their suspicions about the White Witch's creature being behind the poisoning. Unlike other times he had had nightmares, this time he had not awoken sitting and shouting, sweat pouring down his body. This time he had been quiet, and he still had his back to the wall of the tent, the sheets drawn up to his face mostly obscuring his view.
It had all seemed so real. He could almost still feel the chill of the cold wind against his face.
He took deep breaths and tried to focus on reality. It was only a nightmare. He could hear Peter's soft breathing from across the tent on the other cot. Outside, the crickets chirped and the wind blew against the side of the tent. He could hear the soft clink of metal on the ground nearby.
His eyes flew open again and focused on the shadow of the sheets partly covering his face. He could almost still feel the chill of the cold wind against his face.
Cold wind… like the wind that would enter a tent if the flap had been opened for a moment, in the depths of the night.
The noise of clinking metal from a foot mistakenly hitting the belt he had neglected on the ground.
The thoughts connected in his mind in an instant, and his fingers closed around the hilt of his sword, hidden under his pillow.
He sprang out of his bed with a cry, his sword connecting with a clash of metal against metal. The moonlight barely filtered through the walls of the tent, but it was enough to bounce off the metal and the eyes of his shadowed enemy, whose long dagger parried his attacks and pressed onwards, aiming for the kill.
A rustling sound warned him that there were more people in the tent, but his cry had awoken Peter, who had instinctually drawn his sword and was now struggling against two other figures. Edmund felt blind in the darkness, barely being able to make out his enemy's outline, not much taller than him but very strong as he tried to trap him in a corner of the tent. But Edmund had the advantage of knowing the tent better than him. He took the opportunity to reach sideways and grab one of Peter's knives from where it hung on the corner of his brother's bed, and then he threw the first other thing his fingers came in contact with, in this case a pillow, towards his adversary's face.
As the other one stumbled back, taken by surprise, he stabbed the side of the tent with the knife, pulling it as he ran forwards to let the light in through the slit in the wall. He heard Peter's labored grunts and the crash of metal as the light fell right across his enemy's eyes, and Edmund took the opportunity to sink his sword deep in his foe's chest with a sickening sound.
But Edmund did not linger. He sprang to the other side of the tent, driving back one of the two others who Peter had managed to fend off. He saw a shadow fall across through the slit in the wall and heard a voice behind him which he recognized: Aurelius.
"Find the Queens," he grunted as he ducked an attack. He heard the centaur hesitate and then leave the tent, Edmund driving forwards, pushing his enemy out through the tent flap, kicking at its legs. Even as they stepped out into the moonlight it became obvious that his opponent was much shorter than he was.
Behind him, he heard a crash of wood and then a faint cry before Peter ran out of the tent. Edmund was standing in the middle of the grass, pulling his sword out of someone's stomach, blood spattered on his bare chest and his features drawn and pale.
The creature struggling at Edmund's feet was a Dwarf; his dark hair dirty and matted, his eyes wild and crazed, his hands clenched as he coughed and blood poured from between his lips.
"Who do you work for?" Edmund growled, pointing his sword at the Dwarf's throat. "Who sent you?"
The Dwarf laughed. It was a disgusting, gurgling, dying sound. "I'm already going to die, traitor," he rasped. "There's no threat in pointing a sword at me."
"I can make it more painful," Edmund hissed, his eyes glinting darkly. The Dwarf reminded him of Ginarrbrik.
The Dwarf gave a grunt, and suddenly his hands reached down into his shirt and he had pulled out a blade. Edmund moved to knock it out of his fingers, but the blade had already sunk into the Dwarf's chest viciously, killing him instantly, his grimy fingers still clutching the hilt.
Edmund stood frozen in his place, sword still raised, his chest heaving. Slowly, he looked up and met his brother's gaze. Peter was also shirtless, clutching his upper arm with one hand, his sword already sheathed. Blood seeped out between his fingers.
"I'm okay," Peter said in a low voice, though he looked pained. "It isn't deep." His eyes flitted down to the dead Dwarf. "Well, that was…" He didn't seem to know what to say.
Edmund swallowed and then opened his mouth to speak. But he was interrupted by the sound of hooves as Aurelius returned with Oreius at his side. Both their swords were bloody.
"There were two more," Oreius said in a low voice as they drew near. "I have people cleaning up the mess as we speak. There doesn't seem to have been much damage anywhere else. No other tents were touched. Are you all right, Sire?"
"And my sisters?" Peter asked, ignoring his general's question, his face pale.
"As far as we know, completely safe. But we sent an eagle to make sure. He should be returning shortly. Ah, here he is."
The eagle landed on the grass speedily. "The Queens are well and sleeping safely in their beds."
"You are absolutely sure?" Peter insisted.
The eagle nodded. "Yes, Sire. Their handmaidens entered the room and checked in person."
Peter let out the breath he seemed to have been holding in.
"Sire," said Oreius to Peter. "You must bind your wound."
The High King nodded and walked back into the tent, still clutching his bleeding arm. Edmund turned his eyes back to the Dwarf. "These are Narnian," he said in a low voice.
There was silence for a moment. Edmund bent down and cleaned his sword on the Dwarf's clothes.
"Those were a satyr and another Dwarf, inside the tent," Peter said as he returned, winding a rag around his arm, two shirts hanging from his arm. He threw one to Edmund, who caught it deftly and put it on.
"It was a mountain lion and a bull who attacked us," said Aurelius. "They were waiting just a few steps away."
"The guards?"
Aurelius tightened his jaw, his eyes sorrowful as he nodded towards the shadows at the side of the Kings' tent. From where he was, Edmund could see the crumpled heap that were the bodies of the satyr and Faun who had been on shift that night.
"I am sorry," Peter closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them, seeming to have cleared his head. He was now wearing a shirt concealing his wound. "We will see what to make out of this later. At the moment we must hide the bodies. We cannot afford panic in the Festival; if possible, this must remain between us only."
"There are two more tents with people near yours, Your Majesties," said Aurelius. "Badgers and Fauns. I have already instructed them not to speak of what they have heard, but I will speak to them again to ensure no information reaches other ears."
"Not even Narnian ears," Edmund said grimly. "Only the Lion knows who may be implicated… these are not hags or ogres; these are our own people, turned against us." His eyes widened and he looked at Peter. "The hare."
Peter set his jaw. "First let us clean up this mess. Then we will discover where the bodies are from and if they were here before."
It was a dreary task, but an hour later the bodies had been taken to an empty tent near the Guard's tents, where they were laid out carefully, the sentinels whose throats had been slit by the attackers set apart with much more respect. They would be buried soon. Outside, the sky was growing lighter as the sun began to rise. Soon fires would be started and the day would begin with a blast of trumpets.
Witrow growled as he entered the tent, sniffing at the bodies. A Red Dwarf had gone through all the pockets and not found much more than a bit of seed and dirty rags.
"Two black dwarves, a satyr, a mountain lion and a bull." Edmund shook his head slowly. "I never would have expected this."
"Thank the Lion you woke me," said Peter.
"Thank the Lion a dream woke me," said Edmund darkly. It was ironic, really. He had never been more thankful in his life. "They would have slit our throats in our sleep and we would not have even felt it." He glanced at Peter's side. "How is your arm?"
"In a moment I will go to the healer's ward," he said. "I want to know what you make of this." These last words were spoken to Edmund, Oreius, whose hand had remained on the hilt of his sword during the entirety of the past few hours, and Dorick, who had been awoken as soon as the bodies had all been collected.
"They are most certainly Narnian, Sire," said the general. "Other than that I do not know. Perhaps supporters of the Witch? It is unusual to see such an ample variety of creatures allied, but not entirely impossible."
"No, it doesn't seem right," Edmund said. "The Mountain Lions were never on the Witch's side, and neither were the satyrs. I have never seen a supporter of the Witch kill himself before my very eyes."
"This speaks of something with even deeper loyalties, perhaps a sense of righteousness on their part, though I do not understand what it could possibly be based on," said Dorick thoughtfully. "Assuming that they were responsible for the poisoning as well as the attack… their sole determination is to kill Your Majesties. No attempt was made upon the palace?"
"No," said Peter. "They must have thought the next best thing would be to kill us. At this moment in time, it would be a shock enough to overthrow our government and possibly even depose our sisters. Calormen and Galma would not acknowledge two young girls upon the thrones as Queens. They barely acknowledge us as it is."
Edmund's eyes had been drawn to the corpse of the Dwarf, and his eyes were dark and thoughtful. "He called me a traitor," he said. "Perhaps that could explain it."
"But it wasn't just aimed at you, Ed."
"It might have been," said Edmund, his expression unreadable. "You would not have awoken had it not been for me. They may have just been aiming for me all along."
"Forgive me, Your Majesty," said Dorick, looking rather uncomfortable. "But I do not believe it would be reason enough to rally so many people against you. As we all know, there have been… incidents… but that was early in your reign and never with such passionate response. Your Majesty has long redeemed himself for old mistakes."
But Edmund's eyes were focused on Peter's. Peter shook his head. "I agree with Dorick," he said.
"Sire!"
They turned. Witrow was standing beside the large body of the bull, sniffing its head. The leopard looked up. "Sire," he said. "I know this smell. The smell they all carry."
Peter walked towards him and the rest follow. "You do?"
"Yes, Sire. I have smelled it not long ago, only yesterday."
"Where?"
The leopard's eyes were wide. "On the hare, the one Queen Lucy found at top of the hill."
Peter straightened up, looking grim. "Well, I believe there is even more reason to visit the healer's ward now."
They crossed camp quickly; there were few people about, though already stirring could be heard within the tents and in the distance, the words of the morning rituals of the Calormenes could be heard, carried by the morning wind. In the distance, the waves of the sea crashed behind the Palace, where the red and gold banners shone in the morning sun.
The healer's tent was being watched by only two healers at that time; a naiad and a rather meek-looking Faun. The naiad immediately dropped into a reverent curtsy.
"Is the hare awake?" Peter asked.
"Yes, Sire," said the naiad, rather flustered. "He has awoken only a few hours ago, but he is very weak."
"I must speak with him."
"Yes, Sire."
The Faun led them towards the third bed on the first row of the interior of the white tent, where the small figure of the hare was curled up under a sheet. Its ears twitched as they neared. Peter made a sign and Oreius and Witrow stayed behind, near the door.
The hare opened its eyes as they neared, and then its eyes widened with a mix of surprise, awe, and perhaps a bit of fear. It fidgeted nervously.
"Good morning," said Peter. The Faun brought them stools to sit on.
"G- good m- morning… my King."
Edmund could tell Peter was unsure as to how to treat the animal. Should he be treated as a suspect or as an ailing person? "What is your name? I trust you are feeling better?"
The hare nodded nervously. "I- I am, thank you, Your Majesties. I am Clover."
"Where are you from, Clover? Why were you at the side of the road yesterday?"
"I-" Clover took a deep breath. "I am from the Western Fields. I- I must have collapsed… I have spent the past few days running. There… there was something…"
Peter met Edmund's gaze. The Western Fields. There were many villages near the beginning of what was commonly known as the Western Wild, where the mountains turned and formed a wall that marked the end of Narnian territory; and it was mostly farming villages in the fields, from which it was said most of the food was obtained in the days before the White Witch had come to Narnia. There had been much trade in that part of the country. But now they were only small villages, slowly recovering from the oppression they had suffered, and it was not often one found visitors from that part of the country near Cair Paravel. As it was, none had come to the Festival from that far off. Or at least, none had until now.
"What do you know of the attack this morning?"
The hare's eyes widened. Peter's voice was not harsh, but it was serious and almost stern.
"What attack, Your Majesty? Here? Who has attacked?" his breathing became quick. Edmund could see the naiad looking towards them with worry. The hare didn't seem to be lying.
"It's all right, Clover," said Edmund. "It was small and few people know of it, but two people were killed, and the High King Peter and I nearly were as well. Those who carried out the attack, well, they seem to have come from the same place you did. Two dwarves, a satyr, a mountain lion and a bull."
Clover was speechless. His eyes were wide and he didn't seem to know what to say.
"So you know nothing of these people?" Peter's voice was softer now.
The hare gulped. "I never thought… I didn't think they would actually do it."
"Who?"
"I- I am sorry, Your Majesties," said the hare, looking truly grieved, its eyes pleading and ears drooping. "Perhaps if I had not fainted… perhaps this would not have happened."
"What do you mean?"
He took a deep breath before he began to speak. "I come from Pebble, the largest village in the Western Fields, which is on the edge of the forest that lies between us and the mountains. Though we were struggling at first to grow crops after the Long Winter, particularly since most of the males had been lost to the Witch during the War, things were finally seeming to pick up for us. Us sons were finally old enough to help our mothers, and the crops were growing well. We thought we might be able to be like we were before, you know… back when Pebble was the center of trade of Western Narnia."
He sighed. "Well, about five months ago, things began to change. There were some rumors going about, some people who said they could make things better. Some of the older people, mostly the dwarves and the Fauns, but some of us Talking Beasts too, began to go into the forest more often, and some of them stayed. They said they'd found a better way, said they'd met someone who could help make things like before the Witch, things… you must forgive me, Your Majesties, but this is what they said, not I… things that the Kings and Queens would never do for us. They called themselves the Knights of Stone.
"We didn't pay much heed to it at first; those who left did it because they wanted to, and it did us no harm. But then some came back and began asking for food; they said they needed it in the forest and that we should help them, for the good of the village and Narnia. Some gave them food, but it wasn't enough for them. They started demanding more and more, and all for free, too. So people stopped giving it to them; we needed food to feed our own.
"As it turns out, it wasn't just Pebble that was being asked. It was just about every farm in the vicinity. We started to get angry; some people told the forest ones to grow their own crops if they wanted free meals. They insisted, and even started asking for things like armor, and weapons. We got scared… didn't want a war to start in our village. We refused to help them. The Knights of Stone said they were doing important things and if we didn't comply then they'd have to take measures. And they did. A few weeks later we woke up and our crops had been pillaged, then a few days later cellars were broken into, animals were stolen.
"People started defending themselves, and then the real scary part began. Families were told that if they didn't give their part, their houses would be burned down. And they were. Entire crops were torn apart and stables and houses were burnt… everybody is scared and nobody knows what to do. Finally, we decided I'd come here and ask for help. Some didn't want me to; they said Your Majesties wouldn't help. They said the Kings and Queens won't help, don't care about the people in the farms, but us Talking Beasts have always been loyal, Your Majesties. And I came here, because I know that we have no other chance at staying alive.
"I didn't think the Knights of Stone would have decided to act this quickly. We all knew they didn't approve of your government, but we didn't think they'd try to kill anybody… but it sounds like them, Your Majesty. And I'm afraid… if I had set out sooner, perhaps, nobody would have had to die."
The hare hid his face in his paws, and Peter reached out to put a hand on his arm.
"It's all right, Clover," he said. "You have acted heroically. We are glad you have told us of this, for we had no idea. I am sorry for your village's losses, and I assure you we will converse about this topic with our sisters and see what we can do to send Pebble aid, as well as what we shall do about these so-called Knights of Stone."
"Thank you, thank you, Your Majesties," said Clover with a sigh of relief. "I am sure everyone in my village will be very thankful."
"It is our duty to you, as your Kings and Queens," said Peter seriously. "I have only one request."
"Yes, Your Majesty, anything."
"That you remain here for the time being whilst we decide what will be done about the situation, in case a guide should be needed. Someone shall be sent to show you to your new quarters."
"Of course, Your Majesty," said the hare, looking quite overjoyed.
They retreated to the other side of the tent, where Edmund reminded Peter of the wound on his arm.
"Well, at least we now know who the enemy is," said Peter said to Edmund in a low voice, grimacing slightly as the naiad tied a new bandage over the cut he had received.
"Out of all the explanations, this one was the last I had expected. I suppose there's no doubt that the attackers were part of the 'Knights of Stone'?"
"I'll have Clover look at them later, once they deem him strong enough to walk. Thank you," he added, as the naiad bowed, having finished treating his wound. Peter pulled his shirt back on and rose from the stool he was sitting on, moving closer to his brother so they could not be overheard. "This is a rebel group, and a well organized one, apparently," he said. "Two murder attempts and a systematic blackmailing of many houses in the West. We cannot leave the situation untouched for very long, or it could have disastrous effects. Aslan knows how many more times they will attempt to kill us."
They began walking towards the entrance of the tent. "I think we may have wiped them out," said Edmund. "Oreius has Witrow and some of the other Talking Beasts tracing the scent, which is a better lead than following an unknown one as they had tried to with the poison. They should be able to uncover any others who come from that part of the country."
"Let us hope not," said Peter. He moved his arm experimentally, clenching his teeth. "It hurts, but I can hide it. It is a good thing we are not actually competing, or I would have to forfeit."
"Peter," said Edmund as they walked out of the tent, even as the morning trumpet sounded, marking the beginning of the day. He grabbed his brother's healthy arm and pulled him to a side of the tent, his voice a whisper. "I have to go there."
"Are you daft?" Peter said, taken aback. "In the middle of the Festival?"
"It is still nearly two more weeks until the Festival ends," said Edmund. "Ignoring the situation until then is abandoning the villagers to the violence of these rebels, and also leaving open opportunities for them to strike at us once more the moment they discover we have done away with five of their members. Do you think they will back down? I doubt it very much. Pebble, if I understand correctly, is a day and a half's ride from here, if one rides without stopping. I must go."
"It's too dangerous, Edmund. You cannot take a force large enough; the best knights are participating in the tourneys and taking them away from it would be dishonorable. We do not know exactly who we are up against, not to mention what the reaction would be if one of the Kings were to leave the Festival." He shook his head. "Nay, we wait until the festival ends."
"I have a feeling Susan and Lucy will agree with me," Edmund said.
"And I have a feeling your idea is mad and will get at least one of us killed, as well as offend the Kings and the Princes. We must leave now; there are morning greetings to be made."
As his brother walked away, Edmund sighed worriedly. There was some movement beside him and he saw Lord Paldin emerge from the tent.
"Lord Paldin," he said, forcing a smile onto his face. "How are you? I am glad to see you are out of bed."
"I am, Your Majesty," said the man. "My movements are slow, but it does not take away from the enjoyment." He smiled.
"Once more, I must earnestly beg your forgiveness for the suffering we inadvertently caused you. We did not wish to place you in this situation."
"Nay, King Edmund, do not say such things," said the older man, his eyes grave. "I am only glad that I was the only one hurt. A knight from Archenland is a minor casualty; Narnia would have suffered much more had it been one of its Four who fell ill. As it is, I now have a chance to enjoy the Festival from a quieter, more peaceful perspective." He grinned. "And the naiads have promised me a dance tonight, if I rest enough. I have no regrets."
Edmund chuckled. "You are a strong man, Lord Paldin. I am glad to have met you."
"Likewise, Sire," he said.
"I am afraid I must get going, however," said Edmund. "May your health improve more, and may you enjoy your dance tonight."
He left the healer's tent and made his way towards where he knew Susan and Lucy would be arriving presently. The crisp morning air was cool, but it felt warm on his face, which still felt as if it had been frozen into ice from the bright light in his nightmare.
...
The morning began with an archery contest, which was won by Lord Cole, whose swiftness seemed to also extend to archery. Once the cheering had begun to die down, Peter took his leave, followed some distance away by two members of the Guard. As he stepped down from the gallery, he found himself face to face with King Lune, who was dressed in an emerald green tunic, a kind smile on his face as always. Around him, many people, both from Archenland and Narnia, were gathered in jovial conversation.
"I must say, High King Peter," he exclaimed loudly as soon as he saw him. "Thy people prepare the finest wine I have ever had the good fortune to taste! Perhaps in mead I may say Archenland holds herself higher, but not the wine. It feels as if I am tasting paradise on my tongue!"
Peter laughed. "I am glad our wine pleases you, King Lune," he said. "May you drink your fill; there is enough wine in this encampment to feed thrice the number of people who are here."
"Thou sayest so now," said Lune jokingly. "But be not startled if tomorrow the day arises and Archenland had emptied all the bottles out of love for wine! Why, I could drink forever!"
They laughed together, and King Lune drew closer, gently grasping Peter's sleeve. His smile was as bright as ever, but Peter could see seriousness in his eyes. "Wilst thou walk with me?" he asked.
"Of course."
They left the great multitude and moved towards a less busy route. Walking slowly, they tried to give the impression of a cheerful conversation between friends.
"Thou art wounded," King Lune remarked gravely.
Peter hesitated. "…well, yes, I am. Is it so noticeable?"
"Not to an ordinary eye, no," said Lune. "But I have had wounds of the sort all too many times during my life, and I recognize one when I see one. Thy act is strong, but thou holdest thyself much too stiff when walking."
"I'll try to improve it," said Peter. "Thank you."
"There was an attack last night, then?" Lune's face remained cheerful as he spoke for the benefit of those who passed by. "Thou fearest our reactions?"
"It is a tricky situation," Peter replied. "I am sure you understand."
"I do. But the fact that the criminals have not been exposed makes me believe that there are darker forces at work… it is not a mere attack out of spite or a personal feud, is it?"
Peter said nothing for a moment as a group of dwarves passed them on their way to the tiltyard.
"My fears lie mostly on the reaction such news would elicit," he said. "We cannot make a move that would leave the entire country on the wrong footing. And yet time is precious, and we cannot afford to risk our security or that of our people by leaving the situation unattended elsewhere."
"If I may give thee a word of advice, Peter," said the King of Archenland gravely, stopping in the middle of a grass clearing. The sentinels remained some feet away. "As a friend, and as a King who has lived for a rather long time. This would remain between us two only."
"Please," said Peter.
"A King must do what is necessary for his country," said Lune. "And, particularly in the beginning of his reign, it is his people whom he must protect, above all else. He cannot, at this point in time, risk insubordination or doubt within your ranks, and he must fulfill their needs in order to fight against these forces."
"I have considered going myself," said Peter after a moment. "Susan, Edmund and Lucy would remain to lead the Festival. A small group of soldiers under my command might do the work."
"Thou canst not leave," said Lune, shaking his head. "Thou art the High King."
"I have no choice!" said Peter, his eyes wide. "My people need me, they need protection. The Festival is of great diplomatic importance, but my brother and sisters can handle it well. The people, however… they must be protected, and outlaws must be punished."
"It is a job that can be done by any one man with the power and skills necessary," said Lune gravely. "It is not a job fit for the High King while in the middle of a diplomatic meeting from three nations, two of which are visiting for the first time."
Peter grit his teeth. "I cannot send a mere group of soldiers. There is too much politics involved."
"Then send King Edmund," said Lune simply. "He is not High King and his absence will not create much havoc, unlike thine. Yet he is skillful and powerful; good with politics. Reghorius and Jarrash will understand if he leaves to attend to matters of state."
Peter said nothing, his face drawn with worry as he stood in the clearing. King Lune stared at him for a moment and then smiled kindly.
"Thou art a good King, Peter," he said, and with a nod of his head, he walked away.
...
"Lune says I ought to send Edmund," Peter told Susan. He had called her to meet with him during one of the breaks between jousting tournaments, within the large tent where they would later meet for dinner. He laughed grimly. "Even Edmund says I ought to send Edmund."
"Then why don't we?"
He looked up at her. She was wearing a light blue dress and her hair had been braided in a crown around her head. She looked as if she had slept well the night before. Peter knew he looked the exact opposite.
"He's still young, Su. He would have to go and face an unknown enemy with a very limited number of soldiers on his side."
"And you think you would have been able to do better? We both know Edmund is the best strategist out of us four, and perhaps even the best diplomat, when it comes to it. You truly believe that his age will take away from his performance?"
"He has never been out on his own!"
"Neither have you, Peter!" Susan looked frustrated. "Are you seriously going to hold back aid from this village merely because you doubt your brother's ability? He was the one who saved you last night!"
"I am perfectly aware of that, Susan," Peter said. "But do you really think it's the best idea to send him off on his own to face an enemy we know very little of? Clover could not tell us how many people are hiding in that forest; we have no way of knowing what he is up against. And the village needs fixing, the people need comforting and we must show that we are present and that we will help our people-"
"But you are speaking of a two-person job," said Susan suddenly. "This is something two people must do. One group shall deal the rebels, and the other help reconstruct the village."
Peter sighed with frustration. "But now you are speaking of two people, when we do not even know who the first shall be?"
"Edmund and I," Susan stated simply. "Edmund shall lead the soldiers to deal with the rebels, and I shall remain with a small team to aid in the reconstruction of the village. If you fear for Edmund's safety on his own, then you have nothing to fear if I am near him."
Peter sighed, rubbing his eyes. Finally, he raised his head. "Very well." He called a guard, who soon left to find Edmund.
"What shall we tell everyone?"
Susan shrugged slightly in a way that was more reminiscent of the schoolgirl she used to be, than of Queen Susan of Narnia. "Tell them that our people need us, and that a Festival shall not stop us from protecting them and aiding them in their time of need. Tell them not to fear, and that we shall return shortly."
Peter nodded. "I only hope it will be enough to convince everyone."
"Peter?" Edmund walked into the tent, pulling off his riding gloves as he spoke. He glanced at Susan. "Oh, hello Su."
She smiled slightly. "Peter has decided."
"You and Su will go; you to eliminate the rebels, and Su to help the villagers."
Edmund nodded, a small smile on his face. But his smile disappeared quickly as he seemed to realize something. "You want me to… eliminate them?"
"What choice do we have?"
"They're Narnian."
"I am well aware of that," said Peter, his eyes heavy with worry and sorrow. "Aim for arresting them so they may stand trial; but if it comes to it and it is your only choice, kill them."
Edmund nodded, his eyes downcast. "Thank you, brother."
"It is not me you have to thank," said Peter, glancing at Susan with a small smile on his lips. "I wish I could go with you."
"You cannot try to protect us forever."
Peter held his gaze for a moment, his eyes tired and filled with worry. "I know. But I wish you did not have to deal with murder attempts and traitors who need to be executed during such early years of your life."
"Is that why Lucy is not here?"
Edmund's gaze was hard and prying. Susan said nothing, her eyes on the ground. The silence was tense.
"So both of you decided to hold council on this subject and neglected to invite Lucy?" Edmund gave a low laugh. "You do know she is just as much of a Queen as Susan is?"
"We know that, Edmund," said Susan quickly. "It is not meant out of disrespect… but she is young; she doesn't need to be involved in things of such sinister nature until she absolutely has to, and if we can solve a problem by ourselves without troubling her then we shall do so."
"It is not a choice you have the right to make."
They looked at him in surprise.
"Yes, it is," said Susan calmly. "We are the eldest. It is our job to protect her."
"No, it is not," said Edmund, his voice almost harsh. "You do not have the right to make such choices when you were not the one who decided if she was ready for the throne or not; it was Aslan."
Peter was taken aback. "It is not like that."
"Yes, Peter, it is. Aslan named us four Kings and Queens of Narnia. Do you truly believe He would have made such a decision if he thought one of us was not prepared? He could have put only one of us in the crown, or two of us, or even three… Aslan is not held back by mere courtesy. If Lucy is Queen of Narnia then it is because Aslan Himself deems her prepared for it, and therefore she should be treated as such." He sighed. "And honestly, she has earned that right."
When Susan spoke again it was with a lowered, almost meek, voice. "She is still young. She deserves a childhood."
A small smile appeared on Edmund's lips. "And you believe Lucy is not capable of managing a childhood and a position on the throne, herself? Do you forget who brought us into Narnia in the first place?"
Peter and Susan said nothing, their eyes downcast.
"These sort of choices are not yours to make. Not for Lucy, not for me, not even for yourselves. If Aslan made us rulers of this land then it is because we are ready." He took a deep breath. "I will go speak to Oreius to see who will join us tomorrow."
He disappeared through the entrance of the tent, and left Peter and Susan in silence.
I'm sorry it took me longer to update! I've been busy..
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