GN 3: Introducing Avarro
One day, when they'd been in Narnia for about six years, Peter was sifting through his correspondence, when he came across a letter that made him stop and stroke the short beard he'd begun to cultivate.
Edmund asked, "What's toward, brother?"
"I've rather an interesting request from the King of Telmar," Peter said.
"Telmar? What connection have we with Telmar?" Lucy asked, looking up from her writing.
"Aside from a minor trading agreement, nought I can think of. Their lands are beyond the Western Wastes," Susan answered, after a moment. "What's in the letter?"
"King Henrick says he has a young man in his Court, the—let's see. The queen's brother's orphaned nephew, who is being raised by her brother, Joncas. Henrick would like to send the boy to us for a time 'to grant him greater exposure in the world.' " He looked up. "Reading between the lines, the boy is a little wild and mayhap has got himself into some sort of trouble at the Telmarine Court, and the king fain would have him out of the limelight for a time until whatever brangle he's made can be cleaned up."
Edmund frowned. "He doesn't sound like a very safe person to be around. Why send him here?"
"Henrick writes—in mostly plain words, too—that he thinks most of the trouble—well, he says 'insularity'—comes from the boy spending too much time with Joncas' men, who are older than he. He thinks Avarro is, well, lonely, and would benefit from exposure to other gentlepersons his own age. It seems there are few young people in the Telmarine Court, aside from babes in arms."
" 'Spending time with his uncle's men?' How old is he?" Susan asked.
Peter scanned the letter. "I would suppose hast around fourteen or fifteen years to him."
"Well, a child he's not," Susan said. "It's not like we'd have to have nursemaids, or any such similar needs."
"No," Peter agreed. "They'd send him with his own tutor and manservant. I think Henrick honestly is just looking to get the boy out of Telmar, and into more agreeable, gentle company."
"I don't see any reason not to offer him hospitality," Lucy said. "Perhaps it will allow us to open new ties with Telmar, should we find ourselves in need of them."
"Forging ties with potential allies is always a good idea, sister," Edmund nodded. "Perhaps we can lean on them to help with the robbers who always seem to be lurking in the forests up there."
"How long would he be staying?" Susan asked.
"King Henrick requests… whew, six months at least." Peter whistled. "Egad. The boy must have got himself into quite a scrape."
"Or offended someone powerful," Susan said.
"He's related—if only by marriage—to the Telmarine royal family," Lucy pointed out. "He should have had plenty of protection, no matter what."
"Someone very powerful, then. A vizier, or something."
Peter looked around. "Well, I think the boy would largely be spending time with us, if shouldst allow him to come; we still don't have very many young Humans in our Court. What say you, my royal brother and sisters?"
Susan said, "I am moved to pity him, a boy among adults. No time to simply enjoy anything, and no one to enjoy it with; and without his parents besides. I say allow him to come."
"Everyone needs a friend," Lucy volunteered. "And if the people he has around him are not able to be good friends, perhaps we can. I say he may come, too."
But Edmund had a dark look on his face. "Normally, my heart, too, would be moved with pity, brother, and I know all too well what falling in with the wrong sort can do for someone's behavior. Yet I fain would know with more precision exactly why this boy needs to be sent so far from his home and everyone he knows, before we find ourselves with a viper in our midst. I say no."
Peter gave him a commiserating look. "And it is precisely because of thy conditions, brother, that I say yes: For I saw how ill comrades drove even you, whom I love, to ill behavior, and I saw how quickly thou did mend when given the opportunity. So I say yea, though I shall request of King Henrick more particulars about the issue that prompts the request ere I let the boy come here."
"Well it's three to one," Edmund said. "So I suppose this… Avarro, is it? Avarro shall become part of our Court for some time. Mayhap we can be of help to him, but I do say to you all: feelings of foreboding stirreth in me."
"Perhaps it is the newness of the request," Susan suggested. "After all, we have had no long-term visitors to the Cair before."
Edmund smiled at her. "You may be right, sister; I do tend to be the more cautious in a new circumstance."
"And it's a wariness that has served us well in the past," Peter said warmly. "I thank you for sharing your concerns. And now to write King Henrick, request that further information, and if you ladies will of your kindness speak with the housekeepers about arranging rooms for a long-term guest, I would thank thee."
That seemed to be that, and they dispersed to their various next tasks.
They received a reply to their inquiry within a couple of weeks. Young Avarro had been caught gambling, and drinking to excess with a few of the less savoury of his uncle's men, and had seemed unrepentant when dressed down for his behavior. "If they, sworn men-at-arms of my uncle's, can do it, why can't I?" was apparently his plaint.
Well, he seemed unlikely to bring harm to anyone here. The people at Cair Paravel would do their best to keep him from excesses, and perhaps they could introduce him to more healthy pastimes. Peter wrote King Henrick that they'd look forward to welcoming Avarro as a guest within the next several weeks.
They discussed it, and decided the best way to welcome him was to simply be as friendly and as informal as they could reasonably manage, within the bounds of decorum. So when the young man came riding up to the gates of Cair Paravel, with just a couple of servants in tow, he found himself ushered not into the Great Hall, but rather a simpler throne room off to the side that was still beautifully appointed, but not half so intimidating.
The Four awaited him, along with one or two of their advisors, and Barnabas, who by this time was in charge of any lessons they might need at this point. They wore some of their more simply decorated crowns, instead of the weighty and imposing crowns they wore for very formal occasions. They greeted Avarro warmly when he came in.
The young man in question had nondescript sandy brown hair, and a somewhat surly expression on his face. Trailing behind him were a tall, thin man with a pinched expression, and a stoop-shouldered man who looked as though he were expecting awful things to happen at any moment.
"Hello! Did you have a good trip?" Lucy said.
The young man paused halfway through his deep bow, obviously disconcerted, and Lucy let out a musical laugh, and stepped forward to raise him out of his bow. "When we can allow it, we prefer to not be terribly formal here at the Cair," she explained. "You must be Avarro. I'm Queen Lucy, this is my brother King Edmund, my sister Queen Susan, and the tall one over there is High King Peter." Each of the monarchs nodded, smiling, as they were introduced, which gave Avarro a moment to recover.
"My thanks for a warm welcome," he stammered. "This is my chief tutor, Mr Pallson." The tall man stepped forward, a thin smile flickering across his face. He bowed, but did not speak.
There was a slight pause, and Susan asked, "And who is your other traveling companion?"
Avarro looked taken aback. "That is only my manservant."
Lucy looked at the stoop shouldered man, smiling. "And your name is…?"
The man darted a wary look at Avarro before replying. "This lowly one's name is Sandon, Your Majesty."
"Welcome, as well, Sandon. I do hope you all will enjoy your stay here."
"Mr Pallson," Peter said. The thin man bowed. "Here we have with Us our chief tutor, Barnabas. Perhaps you would like to confer with him on Lord Avarro's educational needs? We certainly have no objection to his joining us at some of our lessons."
What almost looked like a real smile came over Mr Pallson's face. "Sharing the burden of educating my charge Avarro sounds most welcome, Your Majesty," he said. Lucy thought his voice matched his face: tall and thin. "I look forward to speaking with him."
"And I'm certain you are all tired after your travels, so Shilsa here will be happy to show you to the rooms we have prepared for you," Susan said, waving forward a Dryad. "Do let her know if there is anything we can do to see to your comfort."
Avarro nodded, and he and his servants followed the Dryad out of the room. The Pevensies looked at one another. "I think that went all right," Susan said. "You didn't have anything to say to him, Edmund?"
The dark haired king shook his head. "There's something about him I just don't like." He folded his arms.
"We've barely met him!" Lucy exclaimed. "I think he's probably pretty nice."
"You've barely met him," Edmund returned dryly. "How can you tell?"
"Peace," Peter said. "Ed, your sense of people has been tempered in a difficult fire. But," he nodded to his sister, "Aslan knows, Lucy has brought the goodness out in difficult people before. Avarro is here now; let's give him a chance." They all murmured agreement and began to disperse.
Peter caught Edmund back. "Ed…"
"Yes?"
"Feel free to keep an eye on Avarro anyway. If you feel uneasy, there's usually a reason."
Ed smiled a little at that. "I was planning on doing so."
"I know. But this way you have official permission to do it."
"Official permission? May I remind you I'm a king?"
"But you're not a High King…" the brothers continued bickering, in a friendly manner, as they went on to their next duties.
Sandon, lurking in the hall, nodded to himself and hurried back to the set of rooms that Avarro had been assigned. He might not like his master, but he knew his duty. Avarro would want to hear about the Kings' interest.
"He did? How dare he!" Avarro's temper flared. First he was… was exiled to this foreign country, with its bizarre Talking Animals and Talking Trees and probably Talking Rocks too. Now he was insulted by one of its Kings? "King Edmund can't be more than, what, a year older than I? Two?"
Sandon groveled. "The King Edmund has sixteen years to your fifteen, milord." While Avarro wasn't a lord—wasn't even noble except by marriage connections—Sandon had found that copious use of the honorific stoked his young master's ego and soothed his volatile temper.
"And he has the audacity to judge me, simply because (unlike him) I choose to not live like a monk? Bah." Avarro glared out of the window for a moment. "So it's no use trying to get him on my side. King Peter and Queen Susan are obviously too busy ruling to give me much thought one way or the other… But…" he turned, and the smile on his face made Sandon fear for whatever fiendish thought had made its way into his head.
"How old is the Queen Lucy?"
"She has fourteen years to your fifteen." Sandon hoped Avarro wasn't thinking of doing anything bad to Queen Lucy. He'd liked her. He couldn't remember the last time someone asked him his name. And he rather thought she'd remember it, too. No, he didn't want anything to happen to these happy Kings and Queens, so unlike the dour members of the Telmarine Court.
Perhaps he would have to keep an eye on Avarro, as well.
Avarro's first full day in the Cair didn't start off too well. A chirrupy Squirrel came bustling in before dawn—he was sure it was before dawn—to let him know arms practice was starting shortly, and if he wanted to join with Their Majesties and some of the guards and members of the Court, he was more than welcome.
He didn't much care if he was welcome or not. He'd far rather be sleeping. But he was one of those sorts of people who, once he was awake for the day, found it very difficult to get back to sleep. So he dragged himself out of bed, kicked Sandon awake, had the servant dress him, and leisurely slouched down the broad marble hallways and down two of the odd staircases, until he figured out where breakfast was being served. Certainly he wasn't going to go exercise before he ate!
The strange configuration of the hallways had puzzled him even as he was entering Cair Paravel yesterday. From afar, he had been able to tell it was a different sort of place, reflecting light like a beacon on the edge of the sea. Even from leagues away, and on an overcast day, the castle had shone like a star floating between the rich earth and the deep sea.
Avarro had disliked it intensely, being far more used to the tall straight walls of dark grey stone and iron-toothed portcullises of the Telmarine castle. Then they'd ridden past the high proud white walls of Cair Paravel, and the place just kept getting stranger. He'd been led straight past a securely closed set of enormous gold-and-enamelled doors, no doubt leading into the Great Hall, and down one of these broad clear corridors with its vaulting roof, until they came to a plainer set of silver-chased wooden doors.
All normal enough until it occurred to him to wonder why the ceilings were quite so high? And there had been a set of stairs down to the wooden doors, but the stairs were very broad and flat. It took two paces at least to get to the next step down. That was another curious thing he couldn't explain. And then the little Queen, Lucy, had not only asked his servant's name, she'd spoken to the servant directly. That was just… baffling.
But as he wandered the corridors this morning, he found a few of his questions answered. He'd had quite a start when the overgrown Squirrel had bustled in and started talking, but then he remembered that some of the animals here could talk. Then, while he was wandering through Cair Paravel in search of breakfast, he'd been quite surprised by a cheerful "Hullo, hullo, neighbor!"
The voice had come from above him, and for a moment he'd thought of ghosts and haunts, until he saw a Lark winging its way along the ceiling. Ah. That explained the ridiculous height of the corridors. Then he'd glanced out a window at the training yard and had seen a bizarre being that comprised a horse's body with a man's head and torso. A… what was it called, a centaur.
And the centaur was overseeing weapons-training, directing a handful of youths to work at the archery butts, and guiding a couple of youngsters into mock-battles with staves, and shouting at several finely-dressed people who were apparently running some sort of distance. The creature did all this while keeping up commentary on two swordsmen who were working through patterns. One of these two must be King Edmund, with his fair skin and dark, dark hair; the other was a nondescript slim youth with skin nearly as pale as Edmund's, but auburnish hair peeking out from a cap. Avarro watched them a little, finally picking out King Peter's golden head amongst the runners; he was apparently conferring with some Lord of his Court as he ran.
He snorted to himself as he turned away. So King Peter was one of those sorts, then, never taking time to just enjoy anything or taking a moment of pure pleasure for himself. Priggish, he had no doubt, and he smirked to himself as he strode down the corridors. I'm beginning to figure these people out, he thought. They're not so different from the Telmarine nobles after all. And once I figure them out…
It wasn't until he was halfway down one of those broad, flattish staircases that the reason for their configuration hit him: of course! If there were advisors or courtiers or what-have-you who had horse's feet, they wouldn't easily be able to manage normal, human-shaped stairs. He snorted in derision. If he were in charge here, why, those Other types would just have to learn to adapt. The sheer expense of changing the design of staircases around staggered him. Not to mention all the wasted space with the high ceilings and shallow stairs. Why, you could probably fit a whole nother level in this palace, if the ceilings were a normal, human height. Two, maybe.
He stepped on the thought that reminded him, high ceilings or no, Cair Paravel had at least five or six levels above the ground-level floor; and who knew how many levels below. It was certainly taller than King Henrick's stout three-story edifice.
He found his sour thoughts distracted when he entered the controlled chaos that was the general dining hall of Cair Paravel. He looked around, a little at a loss, until a short… erm, person, who had a goat's back legs but upper body of a man twenty years older than Avarro, intercepted him.
"Good morning," the goat-man said. He was wearing an extremely fine velvet tunic. "You must be Avarro. I'm Mr. Tumnus." He nodded slightly in greeting.
"Ehm. G'morning," he mumbled.
"I'm on Their Majesties' advisory council, though generally I spend my days serving as the Queens' majordomo," Mr Tumnus continued by way of introduction. "Would you like some breakfast, lad?"
The 'lad' shook him out of his bemusement. "That's why I'm here," he said coldly, but Mr Tumnus appeared to not notice his tone.
"I'm a Faun, if you were wondering," he said conversationally. He led Avarro around the long lines of tables set up in the center of the room until they came to another set of tables set near one of the walls. Servants behind this set of tables scurried to and fro, replenishing dishes as they were consumed or got cold, and checking on the needs of those dining.
As they got plates and started filling them, Mr Tumnus continued, waving at all of the people moving about, "Those eating right now comprise most of Cair Paravel's daytime staff. A great many live here at the Cair, though some have houses nearby. Most of the Beavers and Moles and Rabbits and things are part of the gardening and groundskeeping staff, and of course there are Dryads and Naiads who work with them. Mrs Beaver, there, is head of the palace seamstresses, though she prefers to spend most of her time in Beaversdam, and only comes in now for major projects."
Their plates filled, Tumnus led them to two empty seats, nodding at other denizens as they passed them. "A lot of the big Cats—Cheetahs, Lions, Panthers, and the like—are part of the Palace Guard. Some Wolves, too, and one or two Bears. Plenty of Humans, too, don't worry," Mr Tumnus laughed at his glazed expression. "It can take quite a lot of getting used to. And then there are Birds who serve as lookouts, or pages, or messengers, which the Mice are very helpful for, too. But if you should get lost, or turned around, just look for anyone in Palace Livery—it's green with a red Lion on it, with gold piping and blue accents."
His mouth full of the rather excellent food, Avarro nodded. At least that last was useful. He didn't quite know what to make of all the rest of the information. Fortunately, Mr Tumnus, chattering away, didn't seem to need any response.
After they had finished eating, and Mr Tumnus had showed him where to put his empty dishes, the Faun led him back upstairs.
Avarro thought they were on the level below the one his rooms were on. He was going to have to start memorizing his way around here. All right: on the ground floor was where the breakfast room was; then the next level above it was where ever the Faun was taking him right now; the next level above that was where his and other guest rooms were.
He didn't know where the Royal Quarters were; were they above his rooms? Two levels above? Somewhere else? He didn't even know how many floors there were—
"And here we are," the Faun said cheerfully, opening a solid oak door on the left, leading him into a pleasant wood-panelled room with large tables and an almost normal-height ceiling. An enormous fireplace took up nearly all of one of the shorter walls. The door they'd come in by was set in the middle of one of the longer walls, and the opposite wall was filled with tall narrow windows through which he could see a bit of the sea, and downy meadows rolling to the north. The other short wall was half covered in a chalkboard, and half covered in some spongy substance that seemed to allow for a great many bits of paper to be pinned to it.
Was this a… classroom? It was certainly nicer than any he'd been relegated to before!
"Just you bide here a bit, and your tutor, and Their Majesties' tutors, and of course Their Majesties will be with you shortly. There is water in a pitcher over there," Tumnus pointed. "And there are plentiful supplies of ink and paper and quills over there. I'm afraid I have other duties, but you shouldn't be waiting long."
Avarro nodded dismissively. He wasn't ten. He wasn't about to go sniveling into the corner because he was left alone.
Indeed he hardly had time to even consider that he was really here in a foreign country, despite his having shouted at Uncle Joncas that he'd never go, before the door opened again and Mr Pallson came in with someone who was so totally his own opposite that Avarro almost forgot his dignity and laughed.
Pallson, of course, was tall and thin and always looked rather stretched, from the top of his bald head to the soles of his long feet. The other person with him was perhaps a third his height, and had an abundance of wild hair growing from his scalp and his chin. He was as proportionately broad as Mr Pallson was thin, and he had to stretch up to see the papers Mr Pallson was bending down to show him.
They made just about the most ridiculous pair that Avarro had ever seen, but before he could decide to make any kind of scathing comment (Mr Pallson hated he could never reply in kind), the door opened again and the Kings and Queens came in. Susan sailed in first, her dark hair braided down her back, her dress neat and correct; next were Peter and Edmund, both looking a little damp as though they'd recently bathed, wearing nice but not ostentatious tunics. Lastly came Lucy, whose hair was pinned tightly to her head and whose ears and neck looked recently scrubbed, as well. Her dress was plainer than her sister's.
Perhaps she'd been out shooting at archery this morning? He seemed to remember King Henrick mentioning at least one of the Queens being an archer. With a start, Avarro realized that not a one of them was wearing their crowns, or indeed any obvious sign of their rank. Queen Susan had a gold lion-shaped brooch, but that was all.
He tried and failed to imagine any of the members of the Telmarine Court passing up an opportunity to wear their chains of office or coronets or diadems. This just goes to prove how really weird these Narnians are, he thought, as he bowed to greet the monarchs. I can't wait until these six months are up. Maybe, though, if I act just as they want me to, they'll let me go home early. I have a feeling if I act worse, I'll just have more time tacked on to this... this punishment.
So, that's chapter 3. Do review and let me know what you think!