The Easter holidays arrived quite quickly, Eustace reflected. Of course, having a series of tests, as well as lots of fascinating information on the Amazon jungle and the insects within it, helped pass the two weeks very quickly.
Now Eustace was arriving home, and he had no better idea of how to be a good host than he had two weeks ago. Somehow he didn't think bringing up the bush crickets or the spotted lanternfly would be something Susan or, or Peter would do. Eustace lugged his suitcase along the train passageway.
But maybe his mom would want to talk about them, he thought, panting. The suitcase held eight books on them, and she was fond of reading. They were a new scientific discovery.
He descended the three steps to the station platform, his suitcase thumping on every step.
"Eustace Clarence!" He looked up at his mother's voice, and grinned in spite of himself. He didn't like the way she treated his cousins, true, but he had missed her fussing, a bit. Jill didn't do anything nearly so motherly.
"Harold, do get the suitcase. It will look quite well in the back of our motorcar, and Eustace, here are the goggles, hat, and scarf you'll need."
"We got a motorcar?"
"I wrote to you about it last week."
"We only get the mail once a week. How does it go?"
"Quite well," Harold answered, grunting as he heaved the suitcase up and into the open back. "Lots of people who don't know how to get out of the way, of course, but that's to be expected."
"The general population hasn't been educated yet. In you get. Hop over the step—yes, just like that. And the scarf must be firmly wrapped around your mouth, or you'll only taste dust for dinner."
"Dinner," Eustace muttered into the scarf, his spirits falling a bit. "Rabbit food, rather."
"What was that?"
"Ready to go, Dad!"
Eustace loved the ride home. Over dinner (which Eustace did not like) the conversation stayed on the uses of the motorcars and their upkeep, and Eustace went to bed pretty happy.
The next morning, however, Alberta was very preoccupied with cleaning every centimetre of the house to make sure it was ready for company, spraying all the things that made it look fresh and well-aired and utterly up-to-date. Eustace stayed in his room till she came to clean that, and then went and read some of his books in the guest bedroom, looking at the Dawn Treader and remembering.
Somehow it was easier to slip into bad manners and ungenerous thoughts—Lucy called them that—around his parents. Especially towards his parents. He was determined, this visit, to imitate the way Peter and the others treated them—listening and responding respectfully. Even if they did say some unkind things once his parents were out of the room. But Susan and Edmund seemed to pick up on his discomfort with that, and those comments had been said less.
So Eustace practised at dinner.
His mother didn't like it. So Eustace told her about the insects in the Amazon, and that went better.
"Are the beds all ready?" was his father's only comment on the cleaning, and when Alberta assured him that the girls' beds were in the guest room and the two boys could share the fold-out in Eustace's room, and of course the adults were going to stay with their parents for Sunday, he grunted and ate. He went to bed soon after.
The next morning arrived. It was a Sunday, and they'd have all of Monday off of school as well. Eustace wondered if his cousins had anything planned. He wanted to guess what those things might be, but gave up pretty shortly. He knew Jill had a better head for that; he didn't do well on his own.
And he couldn't fight.
And couldn't keep the snide comments of his mother and father away from his cousins.
In fact, Eustace had worked himself into a fine funk by the time breakfast (eggs and toast, which was much better) finished and his father left in the motorcar. But he helped his mother do the dishes all the same, and didn't say much. He decided to sit on the porch steps and wait for their guests—though he knew his mother would frown on such a thing. ("What do you think we have a receiving entry for, Eustace Clarence?")
A colony of small black ants kept him company, and he actually had a great deal of fun directing their lines by dropping crumbs from the last piece of breakfast toast that he'd stuck in his pocket. He didn't notice the car turning in the drive till it was halfway up, and he hastily brushed the crumbs off his hands and stood up.
There was an odd number of people in the car; it looked like six, rather than five. But he couldn't tell who they all were through the borrowed sets of goggles and thick brown scarves. His father got out first, and of course that would be Peter, tall and strong, and then Edmund, helping the others out—the small one was probably Lucy, and the grace of that one was most definitely Susan—the third got out and unwrapped her goggles to smile at him, and that was Lucy, so who?
The smallest girl unwrapped herself with brisk movements, and Eustace started to realise that Jill, too, was standing in his driveway, and he rushed over to the group.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, already shaking Peter and Edmund's outstretched hands while asking Jill the question.
"Your cousins didn't forget to invite me," Jill responded in that prim way of hers that Eustace hated. It made him go red in the face.
"I didn't think you'd want to come," he muttered back.
"It's Narnia, of course—"
"Perhaps we had better go inside," Susan interjected. Peter reached over and took her and Lucy's scarves and goggles, and Eustace, at a raised eyebrow from Edmund, hastily did the same for Jill. He turned to lead the way into the house only to realise his father was already halfway up the steps, Peter beginning to go after him. He fell into step beside Jill.
"Did you really not think I'd come?" she asked, quietly enough the others probably wouldn't hear.
"It's not exactly a fun place to come to," Eustace muttered back. It hurt to admit, and Jill must have understood that, because her answer came quickly.
"It's not a bad place. The motorcar was fun, and oh, Eustace, they've got something planned—"
"Hurry in for dinner!" came his Mum's voice, and Jill shut her mouth.
Eustace did not think it fair that his mother should have interrupted just then.
Dinner went pretty well; Jill talked about some of the recent discoveries of her father (who was an archeologist with an emphasis on historical documents), and between the questions his cousins asked, and the way it really kept his parents' interest, there weren't any things that made Eustace wince. Susan, Lucy, and Jill insisted on doing the dishes while the boys brought in the luggage (Lucy and Jill were sharing a bed), and then the children were free to go outside.
"Let's go over near those trees," Susan suggested, looking at the three oak trees clustered on the far side of the lawn.
"But it's hard to sit over there; old acorn shells and such," Eustace protested. "The stairs are much more comfortable."
"But I should like to see the trees up close," Lucy said persuasively, adding her most winning smile.
"And we can carry you, if you think your feet will get hurt," Peter added with a grin.
"If you insist," Eustace grumbled. "But I wouldn't recommend sitting."
"I don't think we'll be doing much sitting." Edmund offered his arm to Lucy, keeping one side of his body away from Eustace, and led the way; Peter escorted Susan in the same manner, and Eustace stared after them. They didn't often use those manners, not in England; they said they were for a different time and place.
"Well?" came Jill's voice from beside him, and he turned to look at her. He realised she was waiting, and hurriedly held his arm out, hoping she'd know how to take it. It wasn't like he received much training on escorting ladies!
She took it with more grace then he offered it, and they scrambled after the Four.
Susan had already knelt on the ground and was sweeping away acorn kernels. (Eustace felt the urge to say "I told you so," but he knew that was left over from old bad habits.) Peter stooped to help her, and soon they had a nice place clear—but only enough for one person to sit. Eustace expected Lucy and Edmund to follow suit, and hastily knelt to start clearing a place for Jill, but Susan cleared her throat.
"Eustace—why don't you stand here?"
"What?" Eustace asked, flushing. He scrambled to his feet, and realised Lucy, Edmund, Jill, and Peter were all smiling at him. Susan dusted her hands, accepted Peter's help to rise, and indicated the space she had just cleared.
"Stand here, please."
"But—why?"
"We'll tell you why in a second," Edmund responded, laughing. Eustace felt a small, gentle shove on his back from the Just King, and he walked forward. Susan took his shoulders with gentle hands and turned him around, facing the others, who had all lined up before him with serious looks on their faces. A gentle touch on his shoulder, and Susan went to stand with them.
Eustace had a faint, panicked reaction—this felt much like bullying, other than Susan's gentle touch—but reminded himself that these were his cousins, and Jill. And they would never be bullies.
"Jill wrote to us—to me," Susan began, voice soft and kind. "She made us realise there was something we should have done and hadn't."
"She also invited me to come, which was very kind of her," Jill put in, but Edmund was already speaking before Eustace could form any sort of response.
"We offer you our apologies that this has not been done sooner. We thought about waiting till the Professor and Aunt Polly could see this as well, but Jill thought this ceremony should be celebrated sooner rather than later."
"So we gather, in the name of Aslan, to honour those who honour Him." That was Lucy's Narnia voice—when she said less and felt the joy more. Eustace still had no idea what was going on, but just hearing it made his fear fall away.
"So, Eustace Clarence Scrubb, kneel." Peter commanded. Eustace knelt, on one knee this time (it felt more formal), and wobbled a little.* He watched as Edmund brought a long wooden sword from his side, hand-carved, with a strip of leather binding the hilt. "This is all we have here," Peter added, taking it from his brother. "We began carving it when Susan told us; but it should do." He laid it on Eustace's shoulder.
Eustace, just comprehending now what they were doing, blurted out, "Hang on a minute, wait, wait, no—" fell backwards (onto the acorns), and then got to his feet, dusting himself off. "You can't knight me."
"I think you'll find we can," Edmund put in. "Once you're a knight you'll be able to knight others as well. Both Peter and I are knights."
Wasn't that a terrifying thought; it took Eustace's breath away. With an effort he brought himself back to the conversation he was trying to have. "Yes, but—I'm not."
"That's the point of this ceremony, to make you one. Unless you object?" Peter asked. He let the sword point fall to the ground, resting there, and put both hands on the wooden hilt. He appeared to have all day.
Eustace looked at the ground. "It's all right for you two," he said, so quietly he wondered if they could hear him. "But I'm not—not knightly material."
"Nonsense," and that was Susan's voice, surprisingly. Eustace raised his head to look at her. "Jill said you didn't consider yourself much of a fighter—"
"Yet," Edmund put in.
"But Eustace, even in England, knights aren't often warriors. Oh, several were knighted for their efforts in this last horrid war, but there's so many other reasons—generosity, skill in art, in acting, nobility, a service to the crown, religion, political service—we had knights in Narnia for many of the same reasons."
"The Noble Order of the Table serves those who need justice, or those who have been unfairly treated," Edmund explained. He nodded to Peter. "The Noble Order of the Lion often earned their knighthoods in battlefields."
"Well, then, what are my knightly qualities?" Eustace demanded, looking from face to face, down the line. Jill was last; she stuck her tongue out at him, and Eustace grew angry. "See? You can't think of any. Aslan saved me from myself, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to be His knight. I can't be."
"You help people being bullied. That takes courage," Lucy urged, crossing her arms.
"Truth matters to you. That is rarer than you know. You do not let lies rest; you refute them." Edmund held Eustace's eyes for a moment before looking to his left, to Susan.
"You have common sense." Susan's beautiful smile lit her face. "I needed that in Cair Paravel more times than I could count. It is one of the greatest strengths in times of crisis."
"And you follow the One who makes us all better than we would be otherwise," Peter finished. "We do not take knighthood on ourselves thinking we deserve it, any more than we take kingship or queenship on our own strength. But we recognise your heart for what is right, and that you will fight for it, regardless of your skill. It is of the willing that Aslan makes the able."
Listening, Eustace let that sink it. "I guess it makes sense," he said slowly. "What do I do?"
"Kneel again," Susan instructed, smiling. "And Peter will tell you the oath you must take."
Eustace knelt—careful to keep to the space they had cleared for him, because he'd been cut by an acorn more than once. Peter laid the sword on his shoulder once more; it was heavier, now that Eustace knew what it was meant for, but the weight itself made balancing easier.
"Eustace Clarence Scrubb, do you swear, on your life and your honour, to fight against wrong-doers, to protect those who cannot protect themselves, and to follow Aslan wherever He leads?"
"I do," Eustace said. He cleared his throat. "I promise. I swear."
Peter raised the sword and laid it on Eustace's other shoulder. "Do you swear to abide by all just laws, knowing that even as you have this authority given to you, it is given by an authority that is over you, and that you will remain faithful to law and justice all your life?"
"I swear."
"Then take this blow, without striking back, and rise, Sir Eustace, knowing that the blows you receive may be many, but your reward in Aslan's country will be greater still." Peter struck him, lightly, on the top of his head. Susan and Lucy both stepped forward, taking his arms and helping him to his feet.
"Sir Eustace," Susan said, and curtsied. Lucy echoed her, and Eustace nodded at both of them, a bit awkwardly.
"Thank you. I mean—thanks. A lot."
"Congratulations," said Jill, her voice solemn. She stuck out her hand and Eustace shook it, relieved to be able to respond naturally to this one.
"Thanks. For writing them. It means—well, it just means a lot."
She smiled at him. "Don't make a fuss, Scrubb."
"Normally," Edmund said, clapping Eustace on the shoulder, "we'd have a great feast to celebrate your knighthood. But I don't think there's much of that here. How about a round of Narnian tale-telling instead?"
"I'm all for that," Eustace said.
"Good! Because there's a theme to our stories tonight. Let me see, you're right, sitting here wouldn't be comfortable—let's go to that grass, it looks pretty thick. Shall I begin? Tonight our tales are all of Sir Eustace the un-Dragoned, Caspian's Companion, and true friend of Narnia. I shall tell of all the good he did as a dragon, when he used wings and strength to serve his friends…"
Eustace felt most uncomfortable for a good deal of the storytelling. But as he listened, he realised that all the tales were true. He had been courageous at times. He had helped other people. He had made good friends, and learned a lot about being a better human being. And now, thanks to his friend and his cousins, he had been made a knight.
I have a lot to live up to, Eustace thought, looking around the circle as Lucy described the entire encounter with a sea serpent in much more exciting terms than Eustace could have managed. Eustace watched Jill lean in, fascinated, and even jump when Lucy described the silly look she'd seen on the serpent's face after it had been pushed off the ship. I know that just from the way it's hard to serve my parents.
But having everything I've done recognised—somehow that makes it much easier to go on.
I'm Sir Eustace now.
*I tried kneeling on one knee once, and now I understand why those knights have their sword on the ground before them; it's hard to balance that way, or at least it was for the very clumsy me.
Response to Eliot Reader: I think you're right, I remember something in The Last Battle about Jill having archery lessons—or perhaps it was The Silver Chair? No, they were talking to Tirian, so you're right! But I'm not sure if it was the Pevensies who taught them or if they took formal lessons. And if I hadn't written this to my bedtime, I'd go check!