~ by Hannah Skipper

The sun had not yet risen over the Eastern Sea, but the three youngest Pevensies had already gathered in the small room that connected their four royal bedrooms. It was the tetrarchs’ practice to meet here at least once a week, but more often when possible, to discuss their goings on and hash out problems or difficulties they were having. They all welcomed this time, as it was rare to catch all four in one place at one time.

Susan had gotten up before the others and made her way to the kitchen to brew coffee for their early meeting. She now sat on one of the two couches, hair loose and silky as a raven’s feather and tucked behind her ear, pouring cups for each of them. Lucy sat in a chair in the corner, her golden locks cascading down her back, absorbed in knitting socks for young Corin’s birthday, which was coming up.

Edmund slouched on the other couch, facing Susan across the coffee table, one arm stretched along the back of the couch, his fingers drumming and a scowl on his face. “You’d think Sleeping Beauty would be up by now,” he fussed. “He knows we’re meeting today.” He sat still for another moment before launching himself up and grabbing the nearest pillow. “I say we ambush him.”

Just before he reached the door to Peter’s room, he looked back at his potential accomplices—neither of whom appeared willing to help him. He frowned. “You two coming? Lazy bones needs some help getting up.”

Lucy finally looked up from her knitting. “What?”

Susan continued filling their cups. “Sit down, Ed. I saw Peter downstairs while I was brewing coffee. He was waiting to speak with Aquila.”

Edmund looked curious. “The Eagle?”

“Yes, he wanted him to gather his brothers and fly out across Narnia to get a sense of how much damage the storm did last night. I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”

Edmund tossed the pillow back to the coach, flopped down, and ran a hand through his wavy auburn hair. “Nice of you to mention that before I got to the door.”

Susan smirked.

The door opened a crack and the High King slipped through, noiselessly shutting it behind him. He ran a tired hand through his tousled brown hair.

“The High King graces us with his presence.” Edmund threw up a mock salute.

Peter broke into a grin and gave a couple of mock bows. “Thank you, thank you.”

He accepted a cup and saucer from Susan and took a sip. “Phew, what is this, Su?” he asked aghast, and only with great effort managed to swallow. “Oh foul, stuff—what is it?”

“Coffee.”

Peter scowled at his cup. “Tastes more like muddy water and pine pitch. Where’d you—oh no, not that stuff the Black Dwarves gave you after you helped them mediate their trade deal with the Centaurs.”

Susan smiled innocently. “Well actually…”

Peter set his cup and saucer down hard. “I think I’ll wait for breakfast.” He stifled a yawn.

Susan handed the coffee out to the younger two, neither of whom looked extremely happy to accept. Susan had grown fond of strong black coffee during their reign, but the others, not so much. Edmund, who didn’t mind strong drinks, drank his slowly, pausing to grimace every couple of sips. Lucy quietly choked hers down with her nose wrinkled against the smell.

Peter sat down next to Susan, pushing his cup and saucer to the middle of the table, and Lucy moved to sit across from him, next to Edmund. The three younger siblings waited for Peter to talk.

“I spoke with Aquila this morning—told him to gather his brothers and fly—“

“Across Narnia to check for damage and report back,” Edmund finished to a surprised Peter. “Susan was kind enough to fill us in.”

Susan smirked again.

Peter looked back and forth between the two, wondering what he’d missed, then shrugged and continued on. “Well, anyway, I think it’s the fastest way we’ll get reports from the farthest reaches of our realm—I’m hoping they can get back to us before it gets too dark tonight, and in the meantime, there’s quite a bit to be cleaned up around here. The courtyards are a sight—then there are the barns, mews, balconies, the orchard and—sorry Su, but your gardens…”

“Oh, no!” Susan moaned, head in her hands for a moment, before she regained composure and said in a more matter-of-fact tone, “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised—nothing else was spared, so why should the gardens go undamaged?”

Peter continued, “I think it’s reasonable to suspect that Lord Highland’s ship took a beating in the storm and needs repairs, but I’ve no report on that yet. I’ll leave those inspections to his crew, and I trust that we’ll be able to supply what’s needed for repairs.”

The others nodded in agreement.

Peter rubbed his hands across his face again and sighed. “I’m hoping—with everybody’s help—that we can cut a big dent in the repairs by early afternoon, and then get things cleared up quickly with the governor, and have time for a nice dinner before the Eagles get in.”

He nodded towards Edmund. “Sorry, brother. I’m not sure you’ll be on horseback with Gawain today.”

Edmund waved his hand. “We’ll live—I hope he’s not disappointed, though.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Of course, after his reaction last night—hey!”

Lucy smacked him with the pillow sitting next to her. “Oh, do stop it! The poor boy is shy.”

Peter allowed himself a small smile at his youngest siblings’ impromptu pillow fight, but then called their attention back to business. “Is there anything else before we go to breakfast?” He scowled at his teacup and saucer.

No one knew of anything else that needed discussing. They were all eager to get the day started.

“Then to breakfast!” Peter clapped his hands together and eagerly bounced off the couch.

He was first to the door and held it open for Susan, then Lucy, and Edmund bringing up the rear.

As Susan got to the doorway, she paused to catch her older brother’s eye. “Peter, be a dear and grab the cream and sugar that I hid behind those pillows over there.” She pointed to a pile in the corner.

Peter looked stunned. “What?” His eyes started getting bigger. “Cream…sugar?”

Lucy turned to share a wide-eyed look with Edmund.

Three voices chorused together, “SUSAN!”

The elder queen took that split second of surprise to breeze through the open door and tear down the hall at top speed, using one hand to muffle her laughter and the other to hike her skirts as she took to the stairs. The other three followed in hot pursuit.

“Good morning, my lord,” a bright voice called from the ground, as Lord Highland worked to nail a fallen piece of trellis to the high castle wall. “I missed you at breakfast this morning.”

The next moment, Lucy’s ladder bumped the side of the wall and the young queen bounced lightly up the steps, her hair dancing with her movement.

“Yes, well, you know me, Lucy.” the governor looked warily at her out of the corner of his eye. “I wanted to get a jump on setting things straight around here.”

Lucy was probably the last person that he wanted to hang around right now. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy her—quite the contrary, he loved Lucy. It was just that she made him feel exposed—as if a giant lantern had entered a very dark room, and everyone suddenly realized that the room was filthy. Lucy’s very nature radiated light, and right now Lord Highland preferred the darkness. He felt safe in the dark.

“You don’t mind if I work with you, do you?” Lucy asked as she pulled a hammer and a few nails out of the tool belt strapped around her slim waist. Of course, Lord Highland didn’t mind if she worked beside him.

Well, actually, he really wished she would work beside someone else today. “No, you know I don’t, Lucy,” he said, keeping his head turned, avoiding eyes.

“Did you manage to get some sleep last night? I’m sure you were tired after your voyage, but don’t storms have a way of getting your blood pumping, and then when you’re back on dry land, it’s hard to relax?”

“I slept fine, thank you, Lucy,” he said quietly, still avoiding her eyes. His heart was hammering—he wished she wouldn’t speak to him. He felt like he didn’t have control over the situation and that made him almost panicky.

They worked for a minute or two in silence, then the governor flinched with surprise as Lucy’s slim hand grasped his big arm. He turned to see what she wanted, forced to look at her for a moment before he bowed his head to avoid her gaze.

“You don’t look well, my friend.” Lucy’s voice was quiet—she wished that he would look at her. “This Ape business has been hard on you.” She gave his arm a squeeze, trying to be of some comfort. “But, you’re not alone—we’ve all lost sleep over this—our people and Beasts living with this menace …”

His heart pounded as she gently backed him to the ground. He now had no choice but to look up at her—her face aglow with regal authority and compassion.

“Go rest, my friend; go to your room and rest. Talk to Aslan; His shoulders are broad enough to carry all our burdens. Talk to Him and be comforted, then we’ll meet this afternoon and figure out what needs to be done.”

Once he got behind the doors and safely away from her, Lord Highland began breathing a little easier. He ran his hand over his haggard face. That was very close—but he was still in control. And why should the Great Lion be called upon if he was still in control?

When Gawain stepped out onto the wide expanse of Cair Paravel’s lawn, he breathed a big gulp of fresh sea air—it was a lovely morning, and he wasn’t cramped down in the hold of a crowded tall ship with the governor. He looked around with keen interest at all the goings on. First off, he spotted Queen Lucy pressing the governor off his ladder and talking with him for a minute, before he headed off inside. Gawain shuddered a bit, and thought how lovely it was that she got him to leave—maybe just for him?

Next, he spied Queen Susan kneeling on the ground, her long skirts spread wide in front of her. She was picking up fallen apples and laying them in her skirt, then carrying them to several large barrels for storage. He saw King Peter, his chest bare and gleaming with sweat, hauling buckets of water and muck from an underground storage room that got flooded. The buckets sloshed as he walked, so he was fairly soaked from the knees down.

“Gawain!”

He turned his head to see who had called him. King Edmund was waving for him to come help rebuild a fence that had fallen by the barns. Gawain’s heart flip-flopped in his chest. The young boy had, of course, heard the story of how these Kings and Queens had defeated the White Which, restored peace to his homeland, and fulfilled the prophecy given long ago. He had heard how King Edmund had sided with the Enemy and how Aslan had been sacrificed in his place, and how King Edmund had been restored and helped his siblings win the war.

But, then Gawain had met the governor. Was King Edmund like that? Willing to serve and be a great king on the outside, but really a monster underneath? He hadn’t had time to ponder such a question while he was cramped on the ship, but last night he’d remembered…and wondered.

“Come help me, lad!” Edmund called again, wondering why Gawain was looking at him as if he were a ghost. “Come hold this post while I fill the dirt in.”

Gawain trudged over slowly, and put both hands on the post to steady it while Edmund shoveled dirt into the hole. “Sorry, sir,” he answered in small voice.

Edmund stopped after a moment to give the boy, who still wore a strange expression, a quizzical look. “You alright, lad?”

“Yes, sir.”

Maybe he was tired. “You look like you could use a cup of that coffee I had this morning—guaranteed to get your heart pumping!” He chuckled to himself and added softly, “but I couldn’t do that to a young lad.” He wiped his sweaty arm across his brow, leaving a muddy streak on his forehead. “Alright—next hole, next post, this way.”

The process began again. Edmund worked as fast and efficiently as a beaver fixing his dam. He dug the holes, Gawain held the post, and the king filled in the holes. Finally, they had a nice long row of posts in the ground, and Edmund began nailing the rails up.

He gave the boy a look out of the corner of his eye—he looked sweaty and sufficiently off his guard to answer questions without thinking too much. The trick was to find the right topic.

“I assume the governor has you learning all sorts of new things to train you to be a knight, but did you get to go to school before you left home?”

Gawian’s eyes lit up and a big smile crossed his face. “Yes, sir,” he talked in a rush of excitement. “My mom is the school teacher on Felimath.”

Edmund’s smiled, too, his white teeth bright against his red, sweaty face. Success! The first try, too! The lad was talking and he hurried to encourage more.

“What’s your favorite subject?”

“Geography and reading.”

“That’s capital, lad! I like those subjects, too. What kind of geography do you like?

“Narnian.” Gawain nodded to himself with satisfaction and Edmund gave a hearty laugh.

“Well, now. What might be the place you’d like to see most?”

Gawain’s face twisted with thought. “Hmm, I think—I think it’s called Cau—Cauldron Pool. Can we really go there?” He faced Edmund hopefully.

Rats. Edmund hated to disappoint the lad, but Susan would have his hide if they went off that far. He peered around Gawain to check on his older sister’s location. She was repotting plants now—good, well out of earshot.

“I’m afraid not, lad.” He pointed to Susan, and Gawain turned around. “You see my sister over there? Well, Queen Susan may skin us alive if we went all the way to Cauldron Pool.”

Gawain’s eyes started getting bigger and, after a moment, so did Edmunds.

“I was joking, lad! The Lion have mercy, I was joking—Susan wouldn’t really—it’s just that Cauldron Pool is way north of here—near the Ettin border, and Su would be awfully angry with me, if I took you all the way up there.”

“Oh.” It took a minute for Gawian’s eyes to return to normal size, and the two worked quietly for a while, till Edmund cautiously ventured back to the subject of school.

“Sooo, what do you like to read? Do you have a favorite book?”

He was rewarded again with a happy smile and firm nod. “Yes, sir—but not a school book, just now. My mom is reading a really cool bedtime story to my sister and me.” He stiffed a little at mentioning his sister—the governor would be upset at him for not keeping his tongue under control.

“Oh? A sister, eh? Older or younger?”

“Younger.”

“What’s her name?” Edmund frowned, unhappy with himself; the lad seemed to be clamming up again.

“Daisy—my mom picked her name out well, because she likes to make daisy chains—only she hasn’t been able to get out much lately.” He stiffened again. He may as well bite his tongue clean off before the governor found out he was yammering on and on about Daisy. He began to realize that King Edmund was really easy to talk to.

Edmund gave the yard a scan and zeroed in on his golden-headed sister. Lucy, her face smudged with dirt, was kneeling with a tiny shovel, replanting some of the bushes that had been ripped from the ground. He wondered if she had any daisy chains.

“Has she been ill, lad?” Edmund gave him a comforting squeeze on the shoulder, and Gawain realized that the young king’s touch didn’t repel him like the governor’s hand did.

“Oh, no-no” he answered cautiously, becoming wary. “She got hurt—I accidently broke her leg while I was-um-fooling around.”

Edmund’s brows rose with surprise, but gradually went back down as he stared at the boy—something wasn’t right here.

“I see.” He would play along for now. “Sooo, what’s the name of that book you like so well?

“Narnian Prophecies—it tells about all the prophecies that have been told about our world.” He gave Edmund a shy look. “I like the one about you guys best.”

Edmund nodded soberly. “Thank you—which one are you reading now?”

Gawain was suddenly crestfallen. “Well—I haven’t read it since I left home a few weeks ago. I had to leave it behind.”

Edmund frowned sympathetically. “Ah, that’s hard—I’d hate to give up a good book—and that one sounds really interesting! Do you remember which story was next?”

Gawain’s face twisted again, as he thought hard. “Uh—‘The Tisroc Who Became a Donkey’—or something. Maybe?”

Edmund gave a hearty laugh. “Now, that does sound interesting—I wonder if I’ll be around to see it?”

Gawain looked remorseful again. “I wish I had it now—I miss it.”

“Yes, it sounds like a good book to miss—I’m sorry, lad.”

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