Part 3 (1/2)

”You might think he'd take some notice of us us, because we're owls and everyone knows how wise owls are,” said someone else. ”But he's so old now he'd only say, 'You're a mere chick. I remember you when you were an egg. Don't come trying to teach me me, Sir. Crabs and crumpets!'”

This owl imitated Trumpkin's voice rather well, and there were sounds of owlish laughter all round. The children began to see that the Narnians all felt about Trumpkin as people feel at school about some crusty teacher, whom everyone is a little afraid of and everyone makes fun of and n.o.body really dislikes.

”How long is the King going to be away?” asked Scrubb.

”If only we knew!” said Glimfeather. ”You see, there has been a rumor lately that Aslan himself has been seen in the islands-in Terebinthia, I think it was. And the King said he would make one more attempt before he died to see Aslan face to face again, and ask his advice about who is to be King after him. But we're all afraid that, if he doesn't meet Aslan in Terebinthia, he'll go on east, to Seven Isles and Lone Islands-and on and on. He never talks about it, but we all know he has never forgotten that voyage to the world's end. I'm sure in his heart of hearts he wants to go there again.”

”Then there's no good waiting for him to come back?” said Jill.

”No, no good,” said the Owl. ”Oh, what a to-do! If only you two had known and spoken to him at once! He'd have arranged everything-probably given you an army to go with you in search of the Prince.”

Jill kept quiet at this and hoped Scrubb would be sporting enough not to tell all the owls why this hadn't happened. He was, or very nearly. That is, he only muttered under his breath, ”Well, it wasn't my my fault,” before saying out loud: fault,” before saying out loud: ”Very well. We'll have to manage without it. But there's just one thing more I want to know. If this owls' parliament, as you call it, is all fair and above board and means no mischief, why does it have to be so jolly secret-meeting in a ruin in dead of night, and all that?”

”Tu-whoo! Tu-whoo!” hooted several owls. ”Where should we meet? When would anyone meet except at night?”

”You see,” explained Glimfeather, ”most of the creatures in Narnia have such unnatural habits. They do things by day, in broad blazing sunlight (ugh!) when everyone ought to be asleep. And, as a result, at night they're so blind and stupid that you can't get a word out of them. So we owls have got into the habit of meeting at sensible hours, on our own, when we want to talk about things.”

”I see,” said Scrubb. ”Well now, let's get on. Tell us all about the lost Prince.” Then an old owl, not Glimfeather, related the story.

About ten years ago, it appeared, when Rilian, the son of Caspian, was a very young knight, he rode with the Queen his mother on a May morning in the north parts of Narnia. They had many squires and ladies with them and all wore garlands of fresh leaves on their heads and horns at their sides; but they had no hounds with them, for they were maying, not hunting. In the warm part of the day they came to a pleasant glade where a fountain flowed freshly out of the earth, and there they dismounted and ate and drank and were merry. After a time the Queen felt sleepy, and they spread cloaks for her on the gra.s.sy bank, and Prince Rilian with the rest of the party went a little way from her, that their tales and laughter might not wake her. And so, presently, a great serpent came out of the thick wood and stung the Queen in her hand. All heard her cry out and rushed toward her, and Rilian was first at her side. He saw the worm gliding away from her and made after it with his sword drawn. It was great, s.h.i.+ning, and as green as poison, so that he could see it well: but it glided away into thick bushes and he could not come at it. So he returned to his mother, and found them all busy about her. But they were busy in vain, for at the first glance of her face Rilian knew that no physic in the world would do her good. As long as the life was in her she seemed to be trying hard to tell him something. But she could not speak clearly and, whatever her message was, she died without delivering it. It was then hardly ten minutes since they had first heard her cry.

They carried the dead Queen back to Cair Paravel, and she was bitterly mourned by Rilian and by the King, and by all Narnia. She had been a great lady, wise and gracious and happy, King Caspian's bride whom he had brought home from the eastern end of the world. And men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins. The Prince took his mother's death very hardly, as well he might. After that, he was always riding on the northern marches of Narnia, hunting for that venomous worm, to kill it and be avenged. No one remarked much on this, though the Prince came home from these wanderings looking tired and distraught. But about a month after the Queen's death, some said they could see a change in him. There was a look in his eyes as of a man who has seen visions, and though he would be out all day, his horse did not bear signs of hard riding. His chief friend among the older courtiers was the Lord Drinian, he who had been his father's captain on that great voyage to the east parts of the world.

One evening Drinian said to the Prince, ”Your Highness must soon give over seeking the worm. There is no true vengeance on a witless brute as there might be on a man. You weary yourself in vain.” The Prince answered him, ”My Lord, I have almost forgotten the worm these seven days.” Drinian asked him why, if that were so, he rode so continually in the northern woods. ”My lord,” said the Prince, ”I have seen there the most beautiful thing that was ever made.” ”Fair Prince,” said Drinian, ”of your courtesy let me ride with you tomorrow, that I also may see this fair thing.” ”With a good will,” said Rilian.

Then in good time on the next day they saddled their horses and rode a great gallop into the northern woods and alighted at the same fountain where the Queen got her death. Drinian thought it strange that the Prince should choose that place of all places, to linger in. And there they rested till it came to high noon: and at noon Drinian looked up and saw the most beautiful lady he had ever seen; and she stood at the north side of the fountain and said no word but beckoned to the Prince with her hand as if she bade him come to her. And she was tall and great, s.h.i.+ning, and wrapped in a thin garment as green as poison. And the Prince stared at her like a man out of his wits. But suddenly the lady was gone, Drinian knew not where; and they two returned to Cair Paravel. It stuck in Drinian's mind that this s.h.i.+ning green woman was evil.

Drinian doubted very much whether he ought not to tell this adventure to the King, but he had little wish to be a blab and a tale-bearer and so he held his tongue. But afterward he wished he had spoken. For next day Prince Rilian rode out alone. That night he came not back, and from that hour no trace of him was ever found in Narnia nor any neighboring land, and neither his horse nor his hat nor his cloak nor anything else was ever found. Then Drinian in the bitterness of his heart went to Caspian and said, ”Lord King, slay me speedily as a great traitor: for by my silence I have destroyed your son.” And he told him the story. Then Caspian caught up a battle-axe and rushed upon the Lord Drinian to kill him, and Drinian stood still as a stock for the death blow. But when the axe was raised, Caspian suddenly threw it away and cried out, ”I have lost my queen and my son: shall I lose my friend also?” And he fell upon the Lord Drinian's neck and embraced him and both wept, and their friends.h.i.+p was not broken.

Such was the story of Rilian. And when it was over, Jill said, ”I bet that serpent and that woman were the same person.”

”True, true, we think the same as you,” hooted the owls.

”But we don't think she killed the Prince,” said Glimfeather, ”because no bones-”

”We know she didn't,” said Scrubb. ”Aslan told Pole he was still alive somewhere.”

”That almost makes it worse,” said the oldest owl. ”It means she has some use for him, and some deep scheme against Narnia. Long, long ago, at the very beginning, a White Witch came out of the North and bound our land in snow and ice for a hundred years. And we think this may be some of the same crew.”

”Very well, then,” said Scrubb. ”Pole and I have got to find this Prince. Can you help us?”

”Have you any clue, you two?” asked Glimfeather.

”Yes,” said Scrubb. ”We know we've got to go north. And we know we've got to reach the ruins of a giant city.”

At this there was a greater tu-whooing than ever, and noises of birds s.h.i.+fting their feet and ruffling their feathers, and then all the owls started speaking at once. They all explained how very sorry they were that they themselves could not go with the children on their search for the lost Prince. ”You'd want to travel by day, and we'd want to travel by night,” they said. ”It wouldn't do, wouldn't do.” One or two owls added that even here in the ruined tower it wasn't nearly so dark as it had been when they began, and that the parliament had been going on quite long enough. In fact, the mere mention of a journey to the ruined city of giants seemed to have damped the spirits of those birds. But Glimfeather said: ”If they want to go that way-into Ettinsmoor-we must take them to one of the Marsh-wiggles. They're the only people who can help them much.”

”True, true. Do,” said the owls.

”Come on, then,” said Glimfeather. ”I'll take one. Who'll take the other? It must be done tonight.”

”I will: as far as the Marsh-wiggles,” said another owl.

”Are you ready?” said Glimfeather to Jill.

”I think Pole's asleep,” said Scrubb.

Five

PUDDLEGLUM

JILL WAS ASLEEP. EVER SINCE THE OWLS' parliament began she had been yawning terribly and now she had dropped off. She was not at all pleased at being waked again, and at finding herself lying on bare boards in a dusty belfry sort of place, completely dark, and almost completely full of owls. She was even less pleased when she heard that they had to set off for somewhere else-and not, apparently, for bed-on the Owl's back.

”Oh, come on, Pole, buck up,” said Scrubb's voice. ”After all, it is is an adventure.” an adventure.”

”I'm sick of adventures,” said Jill crossly.

She did, however, consent to climb on to Glimfeather's back and was thoroughly waked up (for a while) by the unexpected coldness of the air when he flew out with her into the night. The moon had disappeared and there were no stars. Far behind her she could see a single lighted window well above the ground; doubtless, in one of the towers of Cair Paravel. It made her long to be back in that delightful bedroom, snug in bed, watching the firelight on the walls. She put her hands under her cloak and wrapped it tightly round her. It was uncanny to hear two voices in the dark air a little distance away; Scrubb and his owl were talking to one another. ”He doesn't sound tired,” thought Jill. She did not realize that he had been on great adventures in that world before and that the Narnian air was bringing back to him a strength he had won when he sailed the Eastern Seas with King Caspian. doesn't sound tired,” thought Jill. She did not realize that he had been on great adventures in that world before and that the Narnian air was bringing back to him a strength he had won when he sailed the Eastern Seas with King Caspian.

Jill had to pinch herself to keep awake, for she knew that if she dozed on Glimfeather's back she would probably fall off. When at last the two owls ended their flight, she climbed stiffly off Glimfeather and found herself on flat ground. A chilly wind was blowing and they appeared to be in a place without trees. ”Tu-whoo, tu-whoo!” Glimfeather was calling. ”Wake up, Puddleglum. Wake up. It is on the Lion's business.”

For a long time there was no reply. Then, a long way off, a dim light appeared and began to come nearer. With it came a voice.

”Owls ahoy!” it said. ”What is it? Is the King dead? Has an enemy landed in Narnia? Is it a flood? Or dragons?”

When the light reached them, it turned out to be that of a large lantern. She could see very little of the person who held it. He seemed to be all legs and arms. The owls were talking to him, explaining everything, but she was too tired to listen. She tried to wake herself up a bit when she realized that they were saying goodbye to her. But she could never afterward remember much except that, sooner or later, she and Scrubb were stooping to enter a low doorway and then (oh, thank heavens) were lying down on something soft and warm, and a voice was saying:

”There you are. Best we can do. You'll lie cold and hard. Damp too, I shouldn't wonder. Won't sleep a wink, most likely; even if there isn't a thunderstorm or a flood or a wigwam doesn't fall down on top of us all, as I've known them to do. Must make the best of it-” But she was fast asleep before the voice had ended.

When the children woke late next morning they found that they were lying, very dry and warm, on beds of straw in a dark place. A triangular opening let in the daylight.

”Where on earth are we?” asked Jill.

”In the wigwam of a Marsh-wiggle,” said Eustace.

”A what?”

”A Marsh-wiggle. Don't ask me what it is. I couldn't see it last night. I'm getting up. Let's go and look for it.”

”How beastly one feels after sleeping in one's clothes,” said Jill, sitting up.

”I was just thinking how nice it was not to have to dress,” said Eustace.