Prince Caspian tcon-4 Page 2

  “Now,” said Peter in a quite different voice, “it's about time we four started using our brains.”

  “What about?” asked Edmund.

  “Have none of you guessed where we are?” said Peter.

  “Go on, go on,” said Lucy. “I've felt for hours that there was some wonderful mystery hanging over this place.”

  “Fire ahead, Peter,” said Edmund. “We're all listening.”

  “We are in the ruins of Cair Paravel itself,” said Peter.

  “But, I say,” replied Edmund. “I mean, how do you make that out? This place has been ruined for ages. Look at all those big trees growing right up to the gates. Look at the very stones. Anyone can see that nobody has lived here for hundreds of years.”

  “I know,” said Peter. “That is the difficulty. But let's leave that out for the moment. I want to take the points one by one. First point: this hall is exactly the same shape and size as the hall at Cair Paravel. Just picture a roof on this, and a coloured pavement instead of grass, and tapestries on the walls, and you get our royal banqueting hall.”

  No one said anything.

  “Second point,” continued Peter. “The castle well is exactly where our well was, a little to the south of the great hall; and it is exactly the same size and shape.”

  Again there was no reply.

  “Third point: Susan has just found one of our old chessmen—or something as like one of them as two peas.”

  Still nobody answered.

  “Fourth point. Don't you remember—it was the very day before the ambassadors came from the King of Calormen don't you remember planting the orchard outside the north gate of Cair Paravel? The greatest of all the wood-people, Pomona herself, came to put good spells on it. It was those very decent little chaps the moles who did the actual digging. Can you have forgotten that funny old Lilygloves, the chief mole, leaning on his spade and saying, `Believe me, your Majesty, you'll be glad of these fruit trees one day.' And by Jove he was right.”

  “I do! I do!” said Lucy, and clapped her hands.

  “But look here, Peter,” said Edmund. “This must be all rot. To begin with, we didn't plant the orchard slap up against the gate. We wouldn't have been such fools.”

  “No, of course not,” said Peter. “But it has grown up to the gate since.”

  “And for another thing,” said Edmund, “Cair Paravel wasn't on an island.”

  “Yes, I've been wondering about that. But it was a what-do-you-call-it, a peninsula. Jolly nearly an island. Couldn't it have been made an island since our time? Somebody has dug a channel.”

  “But half a moment!” said Edmund. “You keep on saying since our time. But it's only a year ago since we came back from Narnia. And you want to make out that in one year castles have fallen down, and great forests have grown up, and little trees we saw planted ourselves have turned into a big old orchard, and goodness knows what else. It's all impossible.”

  “There's one thing,” said Lucy. “If this is Cair Paravel there ought to be a door at this end of the dais. In fact we ought to be sitting with our backs against it at this moment. You know—the door that led down to the treasure chamber.”

  “I suppose there isn't a door,” said Peter, getting up.

  The wall behind them was a mass of ivy.

  “We can soon find out,” said Edmund, taking up one of the sticks that they had laid ready for putting on the fire. He began beating the ivied wall. Tap-tap went the stick against the stone; and again, tap-tap; and then, all at once, boomboom, with a quite different sound, a hollow, wooden sound.

  “Great Scott!” said Edmund.

  “We must clear this ivy away,” said Peter.

  “Oh, do let's leave it alone,” said Susan. “We can try it in the morning. If we've got to spend the night here I don't want an open door at my back and a great big black hole that anything might come out of, besides the draught and the damp. And it'll soon be dark.”

  “Susan! How can you?” said Lucy with a reproachful glance. But both the boys were too much excited to take any notice of Susan's advice. They worked at the ivy with their hands and with Peter's pocket-knife till the knife broke. After that they used Edmund's. Soon the whole place where they had been sitting was covered with ivy; and at last they had the door cleared.

  “Locked, of course,” said Peter.

  “But the wood's all rotten,” said Edmund. “We can pull it to bits in no time, and it will make extra firewood. Come on.”

  It took them longer than they expected and, before they had done, the great hall had grown dusky and the first star or two had come out overhead. Susan was not the only one who felt a slight shudder as the boys stood above the pile of splintered wood, rubbing the dirt off their hands and staring into the cold, dark opening they had made.

  “Now for a torch,” said Peter.

  “Oh, what is the good?” said Susan. “And as Edmund said—“

  “I'm not saying it now,” Edmund interrupted. “I still don't understand, but we can settle that later. I suppose you're coming down, Peter?”

  “We must,” said Peter. “Cheer up, Susan. It's no good behaving like kids now that we are back in Narnia.

  You're a Queen here. And anyway no one could go to sleep with a mystery like this on their minds.”

  They tried to use long sticks as torches but this was not a success. If you held them with the lighted end up they went out, and if you held them the other way they scorched your hand and the smoke got in your eyes. In the end they had to use Edmund's electric torch; luckily it had been a birthday present less than a week ago and the battery was almost new. He went first, with the light. Then came Lucy, then Susan, and Peter brought up the rear.

  “I've come to the top of the steps,” said Edmund.

  “Count them,” said Peter.

  “One—two—three,” said Edmund, as he went cautiously down, and so up to sixteen. “And this is the bottom,” he shouted back.

  “Then it really must be Cair Paravel,” said Lucy. “There were sixteen.” Nothing more was said till all four were standing in a knot together at the foot of the stairway. Then Edmund flashed his torch slowly round.

  “O—o—o—oh!!” said all the children at once.

  For now all knew that it was indeed the ancient treasure chamber of Cair Paravel where they had once reigned as Kings and Queens of Narnia. There was a kind of path up the middle (as it might be in a greenhouse), and along each side at intervals stood rich suits of armour, like knights guarding the treasures. In between the suits of armour, and on each side of the path, were shelves covered with precious things—necklaces and arm rings and finger rings and golden bowls and dishes and long tusks of ivory, brooches and coronets and chains of gold, and heaps of unset stones lying piled anyhow as if they were marbles or potatoes—diamonds, rubies, carbuncles, emeralds, topazes, and amethysts. Under the shelves stood great chests of oak strengthened with iron bars and heavily padlocked. And it was bitterly cold, and so still that they could hear themselves breathing, and the treasures were so covered with dust that unless they had realized where they were and remembered most of the things, they would hardly have known they were treasures. There was something sad and a little frightening about the place, because it all seemed so forsaken and long ago. That was why nobody said anything for at least a minute.

  Then, of course, they began walking about and picking things up to look at. It was like meeting very old friends. If you had been there you would have heard them saying things like, “Oh look! Our coronation rings—do you remember first wearing this?—Why, this is the little brooch we all thought was lost—I say, isn't that the armour you wore in the great tournament in the Lone Islands?—do you remember the dwarf making that for me?—do you remember drinking out of that horn?—do you remember, do you remember?”

  But suddenly Edmund said, “Look here. We mustn't waste the battery: goodness knows how often we shall need it. Hadn't we better take what we want and get out again?”


  “We must take the gifts,” said Peter. For long ago at a Christmas in Narnia he and Susan and Lucy had been given certain presents which they valued more than their whole kingdom. Edmund had had no gift, because he was not with them at the time. (This was his own fault, and you can read about it in the other book.)

  They all agreed with Peter and walked up the path to the wall at the far end of the treasure chamber, and there, sure enough, the gifts were still hanging. Lucy's was the smallest for it was only a little bottle. But the bottle was made of diamond instead of glass, and it was still more than half full of the magical cordial which would heal almost every wound and every illness. Lucy said nothing and looked very solemn as she took her gift down from its place and slung the belt over her shoulder and once more felt the bottle at her side where it used to hang in the old days. Susan's gift had been a bow and arrows and a horn. The bow was still there, and the ivory quiver, full of wellfeathered arrows, but—“Oh, Susan,” said Lucy. “Where's the horn?”

  “Oh bother, bother, bother,” said Susan after she had thought for a moment. “I remember now. I took it with me the last day of all, the day we went hunting the White Stag. It must have got lost when we blundered back into that other place—England, I mean.”

  Edmund whistled. It was indeed a shattering loss; for this was an enchanted horn and, whenever you blew it, help was certain to come to you, wherever you were.

  “Just the sort of thing that might come in handy in a place like this,” said Edmund.

  “Never mind,” said Susan, “I've still got the bow.” And she took it.

  “Won't the string be perished, Su?” said Peter.

  But whether by some magic in the air of the treasure chamber or not, the bow was still in working order. Archery and swimming were the things Susan was good at. In a moment she had bent the bow and then she gave one little pluck to the string. It twanged: a chirruping twang that vibrated through the whole room. And that one small noise brought back the old days to the children's minds more than anything that had happened yet. All the battles and hunts and feasts came rushing into their heads together.

  Then she unstrung the bow again and slung the quiver at her side.

  Next, Peter took down his gift—the shield with the great red lion on it, and the royal sword. He blew, and rapped them on the floor, to get off the dust. He fitted the shield on his arm and slung the sword by his side. He was afraid at first that it might be rusty and stick to the sheath. But it was not so. With one swift motion he drew it and held it up, shining in the torchlight.

  “It is my sword Rhindon,” he said; “with it I killed the Wolf.” There was a new tone in his voice, and the others all felt that he was really Peter the High King again. Then, after a little pause, everyone remembered that they must save the battery.

  They climbed the stair again and made up a good fire and lay down close together for warmth. The ground was very hard and uncomfortable, but they fell asleep in the end.

  CHAPTER THREE.

  THE DWARF

  THE worst of sleeping out of doors is that you wake up so dreadfully early. And when you wake you have to get up because the ground is so hard that you are uncomfortable. And it makes matters worse if there is nothing but apples for breakfast and you have had nothing but apples for supper the night before. When Lucy had said—truly enough that it was a glorious morning, there did not seem to be anything else nice to be said. Edmund said what everyone was feeling, “We've simply got to get off this island.”

  When they had drunk from the well and splashed their faces they all went down the stream again to the shore and stared at the channel which divided them from the mainland.

  “We'll have to swim,” said Edmund.

  “It would be all right for Su,” said Peter (Susan had won prizes for swimming at school). “But I don't know about the rest of us.” By “the rest of us” he really meant Edmund who couldn't yet do two lengths at the school baths, and Lucy, who could hardly swim at all.

  “Anyway,” said Susan, “there may be currents. Father says it's never wise to bathe in a place you don't know.”

  “But, Peter,” said Lucy, “look here. I know I can't swim for nuts at home—in England, I mean. But couldn't we all swim long ago—if it was long ago—when we were Kings and Queens in Narnia? We could ride then too, and do all sorts of things. Don't you think—?”

  “Ah, but we were sort of grown-up then,” said Peter.

  “We reigned for years and years and learned to do things. Aren't we just back at our proper ages again now?”

  “Oh!” said Edmund in a voice which made everyone stop talking and listen to him.

  “I've just seen it all,” he said.

  “Seen what?” asked Peter.

  “Why, the whole thing,” said Edmund. “You know what we were puzzling about last night, that it was only a year ago since we left Narnia but everything looks as if no one had lived in Cair Paravel for hundreds of years? Well, don't you see? You know that, however long we seemed to have lived in Narnia, when we got back through the wardrobe it seemed to have taken no time at all?”

  “Go on,” said Susan. “I think I'm beginning to understand.”

  “And that means,” continued Edmund, “that, once you're out of Narnia, you have no idea how Narnian time is going. Why shouldn't hundreds of years have gone past in Narnia while only one year has passed for us in England?”

  “By Jove, Ed,” said Peter. “I believe you've got it. In that sense it really was hundreds of years ago that we lived in Cair Paravel. And now we're coming back to Narnia just as if we were Crusaders or Anglo-Saxons or Ancient Britons or someone coming back to modern England?”

  “How excited they'll be to see us—“ began Lucy, but at the same moment everyone else said, “Hush!” or “Look!” For now something was happening.

  There was a wooded point on the mainland a little to their right, and they all felt sure that just beyond that point must be the mouth of the river. And now, round that point there came into sight a boat. When it had cleared the point, it turned and began coming along the channel towards them. There were two people on board, one rowing, the other sitting in the stern and holding a bundle that twitched and moved as if it were alive. Both these people seemed to be soldiers. They had steel caps on their heads and light shirts of chain-mail. Their faces were bearded and hard. The children drew back from the beach into the wood and watched without moving a finger.

  “This'll do,” said the soldier in the stern when the boat had come about opposite to them.

  “What about tying a stone to his feet, Corporal?” said the other, resting on his oars.

  “Garn!” growled the other. “We don't need that, and we haven't brought one. He'll drown sure enough without a stone, as long as we've tied the cords right.” With these words he rose and lifted his bundle. Peter now saw that it was really alive and was in fact a Dwarf, bound hand and foot but struggling as hard as he could. Next moment he heard a twang just beside his ear, and all at once the soldier threw up his arms, dropping the Dwarf into the bottom of the boat, and fell over into the water. He floundered away to the far bank and Peter knew that Susan's arrow had struck on his helmet. He turned and saw that she was very pale but was already fitting a second arrow to the string. But it was never used. As soon as he saw his companion fall, the other soldier, with a loud cry, jumped out of the boat on the far side, and lie also floundered through the water (which was apparently just in his depth) and disappeared into the woods of the mainland.

  “Quick! Before she drifts!” shouted Peter. He and Susan, fully dressed as they were, plunged in, and before the water was up to their shoulders their hands were on the side of the boat. In a few seconds they had hauled her to the bank and lifted the Dwarf out, and Edmund was busily engaged in cutting his bonds with the pocket knife. (Peter's sword would have been sharper, but a sword is very inconvenient for this sort of work because you can't hold it anywhere lower than the hilt.) When at last the Dwarf was free, he s
at up, rubbed his arms and legs, and exclaimed:

  “Well, whatever they say, you don't feel like ghosts.”

  Like most Dwarfs he was very stocky and deep-chested. He would have been about three feet high if he had been standing up, and an immense beard and whiskers of coarse red hair left little of his face to be seen except a beak-like nose and twinkling black eyes.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “ghosts or not, you've saved my life and I'm extremely obliged to you.”

  “But why should we be ghosts?” asked Lucy.

  “I've been told all my life,” said the Dwarf, “that these woods along the shore were as full of ghosts as they were of trees. That's what the story is. And that's why, when they want to get rid of anyone, they usually bring him down here (like they were doing with me) and say they'll leave him to the ghosts. But I always wondered if they didn't really drown 'em or cut their throats. I never quite believed in the ghosts. But those two cowards you've just shot believed all right. They were more frightened of taking me to my death than I was of going!”

  “Oh,” said Susan. “So that's why they both ran away.”

  “Eh? What's that?” said the Dwarf.

  “They got away,” said Edmund. “To the mainland.”

  “I wasn't shooting to kill, you know,” said Susan. She would not have liked anyone to think she could miss at such a short range.

  “Hm,” said the Dwarf. “That's not so good. That may mean trouble later on. Unless they hold their tongues for their own sake.”

  “What were they going to drown you for?” asked Peter.

  “Oh, I'm a dangerous criminal, I am,” said the Dwarf cheerfully. “But that's a long story. Meantime, I was wondering if perhaps you were going to ask me to breakfast? You've no idea what an appetite it gives one, being executed.”

  “There's only apples,” said Lucy dolefully.

  “Better than nothing, but not so good as fresh fish,” said the Dwarf. “It looks as if I'll have to ask you to breakfast instead. I saw some fishing tackle in that boat. And anyway, we must take her round to the other side of the island. We don't want anyone from the mainland coming down and seeing her.”