Golden Narnia

Chapter 4: Sandon

"I can't believe Avarro has been here for four and a half months already," Peter said, flopping down in his favorite chair one evening, as they gathered in his sitting room after dinner. "It feels rather longer."

"You are only angry because he bested you in running today," Susan teased. "Though as I've never seen him work at it, I can't fathom how. He must have a natural talent. He's never once before come to morning arms practice that I know'st."

"I think he runs in the afternoons. Anyway, he won because Orieus isn't making him wear two suits of chain mail when he runs," Edmund groused, stretching out on a sofa. "Oh, I hurt."

"Thou poor infant," Lucy said unsympathetically, pushing his feet to the ground and sitting. "Orieus had me holding a brick above my head the whole time today. It's just a couple of pounds. Why do I hurt so?"

Peter and Edmund chuckled sympathetically. "He's done that to us any number of times. Though usually for us it's two bricks. It's to build your shoulder, arm, and wrist muscles to improve your resistance to downstrokes with a sword," Peter said. "It'll help you a mort with your knife-work, not just sword-work."

"Also builds endurance," Edmund said. "Holding even a little weight above your head, when you're not used to it, is a strain."

"And you all wonder why I'm happy sticking to archery," Susan snorted. "At least one of us should be able to move without groaning, if we get surprise visitors."

"Going back to visitors," Peter said. "I admit, hadst some slight doubts when Avarro did first arrive, but I really think he's shaping up finally."

"His attitude has improved," Susan agreed. "He's stopped startling every time he sees a non-human."

"He helped me assist a family of Squirrels in moving things the other day," Lucy said. "I didn't have to ask him, he just stepped up and started helping."

"There's something sly about him still," Edmund said, in a mild tone of voice, "but even I will admit there's been a tremendous improvement. Perhaps the slyness is just part of how he is. I've had him followed, and there's no sign of him falling into the vices which landed him here to begin with."

"That's good to hear," Peter yawned. "Though I'd wager it's our sister Lucy's good influence. Hast spent most of his time with you, Lu, when you're free."

"Kind as thy words are, brother, I cannot take all credit," Lucy replied. "From our conversations, it seems there are a lot more daggers in the dark in Telmar. In that light, his customary caution and suspicion make sense. I think it's only here in Narnia that he has found he can let his guard down, and just be his age. He's not trying to show everyone how grown-up he is. I like him." She said simply. "He has become quite an all right friend. And speaking of being friends…"

"Yes?" Peter raised a questioning eyebrow.

"He let it slip that his birthday is in two weeks. Cannot we have a little party for him, to show we appreciate all the improvements he's made?"

"That's a wonderful idea, Lu!" said Susan, who loved planning social events. "Perhaps we can make some Telmarine dishes, and give him a little flavor of home."

"Great idea, Su. Ed, what think you?"

"Just because I don't fully trust him, doesn't mean I don't want the fellow to be happy," Edmund replied indignantly. "I think it is a goodly gesture. And I wouldn't dare deprive Susan of a chance to plan a party," he grinned, and got a pillow thrown at his face in response.

As the quiet discussion devolved into an all out pillow fight, the guards on duty exchanged mutually amused looks. Their monarchs were wise beyond their years, as befit prophecy-fulfilling kings and queens who'd been crowned by Aslan. But sometimes their monarchs just plain acted their ages, or younger, and the guards rather hoped that would never change.

The birthday party went off without a hitch, and that seemed to cement Avarro's good behavior. He danced not only with Susan and Lucy, but several other ladies of the court too, including a few who were not human. He received his gifts with every evidence of gratefulness, and humbly thanked each and every partygoer for attending.

Edmund did have to intervene once when he realized the young man had poured a goblet full of Archenlandish wine. Before he could drink too much Edmund managed to slip close and quickly explain that it was intended to be diluted quite a bit, and that Avarro really didn't want to know what a wine-head the next day would feel like. "The first time I encountered Archenlandish wine, I didn't know, so I learned it the hard way," he confided. "I'm saving you a very painful wake-up tomorrow."

Avarro rolled his eyes a little, but did dilute the wine, and Edmund was satisfied enough with that.
Perhaps Avarro really was improving.

And then a few days later, a letter came from Avarro's Uncle Joncas, asking if Cair Paravel wouldn't keep his nephew for, say… another three months? Joncas was going to be away unexpectedly, and it would be better for Avarro to stay with people he now knew, rather than return to a mostly-empty manor house with only servants for company.

When Avarro heard this suggestion, his manservant Sandon saw, for the first time in weeks, a real flash of Avarro's temper. "They've all got used to life without me around, that's what!" Avarro spat. "Oh, certainly, Uncle Joncas writes about how happy he is of the reports of how well I'm doing, and he's so overjoyed that I'm 'mending my behavior' that he's conveniently going on a trip right when I'm supposed to go home, and can't he abandon me in this backwater country for another quarter year! Ridiculous!"

He stewed for a moment, then added, "It can't possibly be related to—to why they sent me away. My uncle's men were only dicing and drinking—"

"Beg pardon, sir," Sandon said. "But the girl—"

"Oh, bah, her. If she's still whining about that, well." Avarro shrugged moodily. "She's a tavern wench. It's practically part of the job description! We—they—didn't do anything really wrong. She should have expected it! If she had been nice about it, she at least would have got money out of it."

"I'm not so sure about it being 'not wrong,'" Sandon ventured, and had to duck when Avarro whipped a boot at his head.

"Who asked you anyway! If this place has been a 'good influence' on me," Avarro sneered, "it's had a damn poor effect on your understanding of your place as a servant. Oh, go away."

Wisely, Sandon did just that, reflecting that if a single letter from his uncle could set off Avarro's temper so rapidly, perhaps it was best, after all, that they were staying a while longer.

Though he was considering finding King Edmund and, perhaps, letting him know more of the details behind Avarro's exile.

Sandon never got the chance, though, as only a few days later the Kings had to ride out to assist their subjects in rooting out a band of Werewolves that had been seen in the forests.

One afternoon, a week or so after Peter and Edmund had ridden out, Lucy let Avarro know that she was going to be leaving for a fortnight for the Fauns' celebration of summer solstice.

"'I don't like leaving you on your own,'" Avarro mocked that night, repeating the conversation to Sandon as he raged. "Then why is she going, and not taking me with her!" He answered his own question, proving that he was only ranting aloud to vent his feelings, not to actually talk to Sandon. " 'They're quite particular about whom they invite, and it would really be an insult to bring someone who was not invited, you see. And I've gone every year,' " he said (in a simpering voice that Sandon didn't think sounded like Queen Lucy's chiming voice at all), and threw himself down in a chair, throwing his hands in the air. "Then she can damn well afford to miss a year. Don't I mean anything to her? I thought I was her friend." His expression shifted from stony to hurt.

Sandon shook his head as he folded the day's clothing. Avarro had been just the same when he was a small child: Incredible outbursts of rage (in which destructive things tended to happen), followed by a time of self-pity, during which if his every whim were not met, could lead either back into rage or deeper into sulking.

Unfortunately, as Sandon well knew, Avarro's late parents had not disciplined him for these bouts of rage, or the sulking, or any of it. They indulged them. His mother would pet and dote over him, give him whatever he wanted until he'd smile again; his father only chuckled and declared that he had a son who knew his mind, and never considered that his son had virtually no self-restraint.

Sandon still wasn't entirely certain how Avarro's parents had died in that carriage accident, but he did know that they'd finally started to realize what a monster they'd created in their twelve-year-old son, who'd been found the day previous tormenting one of his father's hunting dogs. The Master of Hounds had objected—vociferously—and Avarro's parents had allowed the man to mete out punishment to the boy: first a thorough thrashing, and then a month of cleaning out the kennels.

Avarro had not taken the punishment well, storming around his room breaking things (he was storming around because he couldn't sit at that time).

And then the parents' carriage axle had snapped at just the wrong place, and their necks had been broken, and Avarro sat and listened to the news of their deaths with a not-quite-smile on his face.

Sandon had feared his young master then.

So much so, that when Avarro's Uncle Joncas had arrived for the funeral, Sandon had dared to let the man know of his fears.

Joncas had turned on him, tears streaming down his face, his countenance twisted in outrage. "I'm here to bury my sister and her husband, and you, a lowly servant, come to me with these terrible thoughts?" He'd struck Sandon a blow, knocking him to the ground. "Your place is to protect Avarro, and tend to his needs, and above all keep your mouth shut about what goes on behind closed doors. Do you understand?"

"Yes, great lord," Sandon had muttered to the ground, ashamed: he knew what a servant's position—especially a body servant's position—was in Telmar. A body servant should be discreet and simply do what his master ordered him to do, do what his master needed him to do, to protect his name and reputation.

There had been no further repercussions from Sandon's speaking with Joncas, fortunately. Though a few years later—when the incident with Joncas' guardsmen occurred—he did catch the Duke giving him a thoughtful look, and that was when the whole scheme of getting Avarro out of the country entirely had materialized.

Perhaps it is time for another change of scenery, he thought, and sighed to himself. For all its oddities, he liked Narnia, and didn't want to leave. Though he found it baffling how nearly all the servants thought it quite meet to offer their opinions and thoughts freely—even when it contradicted their masters' thoughts! Even to the monarchs!

But even when they were contradicted the masters here treated their servants with a great deal of kindness and compassion, which, while strange, was still very nice. Queen Susan, for example, had insisted that Sandon be given a day off each week! He could go down to the market and wander around, or sit by a pond and watch the fish swim, or just sit and do nothing at all. It was a remarkable freedom, and he enjoyed it very much.

But he knew where his duty properly lay, and he didn't wish to see his master commit some major error here in this lovely land that would see Avarro permanently exiled. So perhaps Sandon's best course of action would be to suggest they go… somewhere else. Where, he didn't know, but if he sent word to Joncas' chief steward, he could drop a suggestion into the Duke's ear, and Sandon supposed they'd go on from there.

He certainly didn't want to see Avarro slide back, in any case, and what else could he do? He was just a servant, after all.

When Lucy returned from her sojourn, happy and light-hearted, she was taken aback to find Avarro sullen and moody.

Susan, who seemed distracted, could only shrug when asked about it. "I tried to engage him while you were gone, but he wouldn't speak with me or go riding, or even walk around the Cair. I did try. I suppose his feelings are still hurt from your going to Dancing Lawn without him, but really! He's sixteen. He should be able to deal with disappointments with some grace by now."

Lucy looked disturbed. "I really had no idea he'd be that disappointed."

"He's friendliest with thee," Susan pointed out. "And he doesn't seem to really be open to meeting other people, though we are starting to get younger people visiting our Court now."

"He might be friendliest with me," Lucy said, sounding a trifle exasperated, "but I still have duties he can't attend. Law court, and hearing grievances, and reviewing treaties and all that."

"I know that, but he seems to be only interested in being friends with thee, anyway," Susan replied. "Perhaps you can get him to meet some of the other people who have arrived. I've had no luck with him. The delegates from Ettinsmoor arrived at the same time as several people from the Archenland Court, and most of them are nearer to our ages. The people from Archenland need cheering, though." She warned her sister.

"Such a terrible, terrible thing to happen," Lucy sighed. "It's been, what, three years since that awful Lord Bar made off with Crown Prince Cor?"

"Yes, it's been almost exactly three years; and Prince Corin still doth ask where his brother is, though they were only about a year old when it happened. His constantly asking is breaking his royal mother's heart, and King Lune is also faltering." Susan bit her lip uncertainly, and took Lucy's hands in hers. "I have a favor to ask of you, sister."

"Of course, whatever do you need?"

"Now that you're back, I should very much like to go and spend some time with them, if you can keep an eye on things here."

"I certainly can!" Lucy exclaimed. "And I shall see what can be done for the people from Archenland. It will be well." Susan still looked uncertain, so Lucy changed the subject. "Now, are the Ettinmoorish people still seeking permission to mine on our border?"

Susan sighed. "They are, which would be all right—we have no Dwarven mines there, after all, and they are mining gypsum, which we have plenty of—but they wish to cut trees to do so. No matter what I say, they cannot seem to understand that those trees are some of our subjects' homes. There's a good sized Badger sett down there, from what I understand, and they do not wish to go. Nor is there any reason they should!"

"Some of those Trees are not only our subjects' homes, some of them are our subjects," Lucy pointed out. "I believe there is a stand of old Beech trees down that ways, and they have saplings to think of."

"You'd know better than I," Susan replied. "The Trees speak more readily to you."

"I'll check, but I'm fairly certain I'm right. Well, I'll look over what accommodations may be made there, and see if I can't bring them to understand the situation from the Narnian viewpoint. Now, what have we heard from our royal brothers?"

Susan looked a little apprehensive. "They think they're close to wrapping things up. I gather, from Edmund's taciturn letters, that they still have one or two of the Werewolf pack to discover and… and resolve."

Lucy raised an eyebrow. "You mean kill. Werewolves are created in evil, they are trained in evil, and foulness follows them where they go. I have yet to meet one who was willing to give up even the smallest part of his depravity."

Susan sighed. "I know. Even though I know it is evil, and evil must be destroyed, I hate the idea of killing anything."

"You are tenderhearted," Lucy said, smiling. "And we love you for it, for it gives the rest of us a different opinion to consider. Remember you stood up for that Satyr who'd done some awful things. The rest of us were just looking to exile him, and you said he might mend, given an honest chance; and you were right. Now Clovius is a wonderful citizen of Narnia, and that's all down to your mercy."

"True. And I know Werewolves are a different matter, but I still dislike having to read about Peter and Edmund killing them. Actually, I think I'm more upset that Peter and Ed are having to kill anything."

"Part of the burden of ruling, I suppose. We get to take on some of the nastier tasks." Lucy replied, and stood. "Well, it sounds like they should be back within a month, if all goes well. Would you rather wait for them to return before you head to Archenland?"

"I don't think so," Susan said slowly. "I'd rather be in Anvard well ahead of the fall storms, and something is telling me I should go sooner rather than later."

"Well, I'll take care of things here," Lucy said stoutly. "So you may concentrate on helping our friends, King Lune and Queen Ramilka, and don't worry about what's happening back here."

"I'll always worry, at least a little," Susan said. "You're my family."

"I know. But you don't need to worry, so do your best to focus on Lune and Ramilka and little Corin, and help them as thou may, Aslan willing."

"Aslan willing, I will," Susan agreed, smiling. "Though you'll be busier than ever, what with taking on all of our duties. You won't have much time to get Avarro out of his ill temper."

"All the more reason he should be happy to meet others his own age," Lucy said firmly. "He spent four years in King Henrick's court. He must understand that a ruler's time is not her own."

"Especially when her co-rulers are abandoning her!" Susan teased.

"You're not abandoning me; you're attending to other duties, that are temporarily more important," Lucy returned. "I can do this. Go, and help them, and return only when you are satisfied that all is as well as it may be."

"I shall," Susan said, and kissed her, and left to prepare for travelling to Anvard.

So there's Chapter 4. Thanks to those who have reviewed! I didn't mean in my last note to imply I was the least bit unappreciative of the time it takes to write a reaction or a note. I really do appreciate them. Often it's a review that helps to inspire the next chapter! So please do keep your thoughts, reactions etc. coming!