CHAPTER 9

WHAT LUCY SAW SUSAN and the two boys were bitterly tired with rowing before they rounded the last headland and began the final pull up Glasswater itself, and Lucys head ached from the long hours of sun and the glare on the water. Even Trumpkin longed for the voyage to be over. The seat on which he sat to steer had been made for men, not Dwarfs, and his feet did not reach the floor-boards; and everyone knows how uncomfortable that is even for

ten minutes. And as they all grew more tired, their spirits fell. Up till now the children had only been thinking of how to get to Caspian. Now they wondered what they would do when they found him, and how a handful of Dwarfs and woodland creatures could defeat an army of grown-up Humans.

Twilight was coming on as they rowed slowly up the windings of Glasswater Creek - a twilight which deepened as the banks drew closer together and the overhanging trees began almost to meet overhead. It was very quiet in here as the sound of the sea died away behind them; they could even hear the trickle of the little streams that poured down from the forest into Glasswater.

They went ashore at last, far too tired to attempt lighting a fire; and even a supper of apples (though most of them felt that they never wanted to see an apple again) seemed better than trying to catch or shoot anything. After a little silent munching they all huddled down together in the moss and dead leaves between four large beech trees.

Everyone except Lucy went to sleep at once. Lucy, being far less tired, found it hard to get comfortable. Also, she had forgotten till now that all Dwarfs snore. She knew that one of the best ways of getting to sleep is to stop trying, so she opened her eyes.

Through a gap in the bracken and branches she could just see a patch of water in the Creek and the sky above it. Then, with a thrill of memory, she saw again, after all those years, the bright Narnian stars. She had once known them better than the stars of our own world, because as a Queen in Narnia she had gone to bed much later than as a child in England. And there they were - at least, three of the summer constellations could be seen from where she lay: the Ship, the Hammer, and the Leopard. "Dear old Leopard," she murmured happily to herself.

Instead of getting drowsier she was getting more awake - with an odd, night-time, dreamish kind of wakefulness. The Creek was growing brighter. She knew now that then moon was on it, though she couldnt see the moon. And now she began to feel that the whole forest was coming awake like herself. Hardly knowing why she did it, she got up quickly and walked a little distance away from their bivouac.

"This is lovely," said Lucy to herself. It was cool and fresh, delicious smells were floating everywhere.

Somewhere close by she heard the twitter of a nightingale beginning to sing, then stopping, then beginning again. It was a little lighter ahead. She went towards the light and came to a place where there were fewer trees, and whole patches or pools of moonlight, but the moonlight and the shadows so mixed that you could hardly be sure where anything was or what it was. At the same moment the nightingale, satisfied at last with his tuning up, burst into full song.

Lucys eyes began to grow accustomed to the light, and she saw the trees that were nearest her more distinctly. A great longing for the old days when the trees could talk in

Narnia came over her. She knew exactly how each of these trees would talk if only she could wake them, and what sort of human form it would put on. She looked at a silver birch: it would have a soft, showery voice and would look like a slender girl, with hair blown all about her face, and fond of dancing. She looked at the oak: he would be a wizened, but hearty old man with a frizzled beard and warts on his face and hands, and hair growing out of the warts. She looked at the beech under which she was standing. Ah!

she would be the best of all. She would be a gracious goddess, smooth and stately, the lady of the wood.

"Oh, Trees, Trees, Trees," said Lucy (though she had not been intending to speak at all).

"Oh, Trees, wake, wake, wake. Dont you remember it? Dont you remember me? Dryads and Hamadryads, come out, come to me.”

Though there was not a breath of wind they all stirred about her. The rustling noise of the leaves was almost like words. The nightingale stopped singing as if to listen to it.

Lucy felt that at any moment she would begin to understand what the trees were trying to say. But the moment did not come. The rustling died away. The nightingale resumed its song. Even in the moonlight the wood looked more ordinary again. Yet Lucy had the feeling (as you sometimes have when you are trying to remember a name or a date and almost get it, but it vanishes before you really do) that she had just missed something: as if she had spoken to the trees a split second too soon or a split second too late, or used all the right words except one, or put in one word that was just wrong.

Quite suddenly she began to feel tired. She went back to the bivouac, snuggled down between Susan and Peter, and was asleep in a few minutes.

It was a cold and cheerless waking for them all next morning, with a grey twilight in the wood (for the sun had not yet risen) and everything damp and dirty.

"Apples, heigh-ho," said Trumpkin with a rueful grin. "I must say you ancient kings and queens dont overfeed your courtiers!”

They stood up and shook themselves and looked about. The trees were thick and they could see no more than a few yards in any direction.

"I suppose your Majesties know the way all right?" said the Dwarf.

"I dont," said Susan. "Ive never seen these woods in my life before. In fact I thought all along that we ought to have gone by the river.”

"Then I think you might have said so at the time," answered Peter, with pardonable sharpness.

"Oh, dont take any notice of her," said Edmund. "She always is a wet blanket. Youve got that pocket compass of yours, Peter, havent you? Well, then, were as right as rain. Weve

only got to keep on going north-west - cross that little river, the what- do-you-call-it? - the Rush -”

"I know," said Peter. "The one that joins the big river at the Fords of Beruna, or Berunas Bridge, as the D.L.F. calls it.”

"Thats right. Cross it and strike uphill, and well be at the Stone Table (Aslans How, I mean) by eight or nine oclock. I hope King Caspian will give us a good breakfast!”

"I hope youre right," said Susan. "I cant remember all that at all.”

"Thats the worst of girls," said Edmund to Peter and the Dwarf. "They never carry a map in their heads.”

"Thats because our heads have something inside them," said Lucy.

At first things seemed to be going pretty well. They even -thought they had struck an old path; but if you know anything about woods, you will know that one is always finding imaginary paths. They disappear after about five minutes and then you think you have found another (and hope it is not another but more of the same one) and it also disappears, and after you have been well lured out of your right direction you realize that none of them were pats at all. The boys and the Dwarf, however, were used to woods and were not taken in for more than a few seconds.

They had plodded on for about half an hour (three of them very stiff from yesterdays rowing) when Trumpkin suddenly whispered, "Stop." They all stopped. "Theres something following us," he said in a low voice. "Or rather, something keeping up with us: over there on the left." They all stood still, listening and staring till their ears and eyes ached. "You and Id better each have an arrow on the string," said Susan to Trumpkin.

The Dwarf nodded, and when both bows were ready for action the party went on again.

They went a few dozen yards through fairly open woodland, keeping a sharp look-out.

Then they came to a place where the undergrowth thickened and they had to pass nearer to it. Just as they were passing the place, there came a sudden something that snarled and flashed, rising out from the breaking twigs like a thunderbolt. Lucy was knocked down and winded, hearing the twang of a bowstring as she fell. When she was able to take notice of things again, she saw a great grim-looking grey bear lying dead with Trumpkins arrow in its side.

"The D.L.F. beat you in that shooting match, Su," said #Peter, with a slightly forced smile. Even he had been shaken by this adventure.

"I - I left it too late," said Susan, in an embarrassed voice. "I was so afraid it might be, you know - one of our kind of bears, a talking bear." She hated killing things.

"Thats the trouble of it," said Trumpkin, "when most of the beasts have gone enemy and gone dumb, but there are still some of the other kind left. You never know, and you darent wait to see.”

"Poor old Bruin," said Susan. "You dont think he was?”

"Not he," said the Dwarf. "I saw the face and I heard the snarl. He only wanted Little Girl for his breakfast. And talking of breakfast, I didnt want to discourage your Majesties when you said you hoped King Caspian would give you a good one: but meats precious scarce in camp. And theres good eating on a bear. It would be a shame to leave the carcass without taking a bit, and it wont delay us more than half an hour. I dare say you two youngsters - Kings, I should say - know how to skin a bear?”

"Lets go and sit down a fair way off," said Susan to Lucy. "I know what a horrid messy business that will be." Lucy shuddered and nodded. When they had sat down she said: "Such a horrible idea has come into my head, Su. “

"Whats that?”

"Wouldnt it be dreadful if some day, in our own world, at home, men started going wild inside, like the animals here, and still looked like men, so that youd never know which were which?”

"Weve got enough to bother about here and now in Narnia," said the practical Susan, "without imagining things like that.”

When they rejoined the boys and the Dwarf, as much as they thought they could carry of the best meat had been cut off. Raw meat is not a nice thing to fill ones pockets with, but they folded it up in fresh leaves and made the best of it. They were all experienced enough to know that they would feel quite differently about these squashy and unpleasant parcels when they had walked long enough to be really hungry.

On they trudged again (stopping to wash three pairs of hands that needed it in the first stream they passed) until the sun rose and the birds began to sing, and more flies than they wanted were buzzing in the bracken. The stiffness from yesterdays rowing began to wear off. Everybodys spirits rose. The sun grew warmer and they took their helmets off and carried them.

"I suppose we are going right?" said Edmund about an hour later.

"I dont see how we can go wrong as long as we dont bear too much to the left," said Peter. "If we bear too much to the right, the worst that can happen is wasting a little time by striking the great River too soon and not cutting off the corner.”

And again they trudged on with no sound except the thud of their feet and the jingle of their chain shirts.

"Wheres this bally Rush got to?" said Edmund a good deal later.

"I certainly thought wed have struck it by now," said Peter. "But theres nothing to do but keep on." They both knew that the Dwarf was looking anxiously at them, but he said nothing.

And still they trudged on and their mail shirts began to feel very hot and heavy.

"What on earth?" said Peter suddenly.

They had come, without seeing it, almost to the edge of a small precipice from which they looked down into a gorge with a river at the bottom. On the far side the cliffs rose much higher. None of the party except Edmund (and perhaps Trumpkin) was a rock climber.

"Im sorry," said Peter. "Its my fault for coming this way. Were lost. Ive never seen this place in my life before.”

The Dwarf gave a low whistle between his teeth.

"Oh, do lets go back and go the other way," said Susan. "I knew all along wed get lost in these woods.”

"Susan!" said Lucy, reproachfully, "dont nag at Peter like that. Its so rotten, and hes doing all he can.”

"And dont you snap at Su like that, either," said Edmund. "I think shes quite right.”

"Tubs and tortoiseshells!" exclaimed Trumpkin. "If weve got lost coming, what chance have we of finding our way back? And if were to go back to the Island and begin all over again - even supposing we could - we might as well give the whole thing up. Miraz will have finished with Caspian before we get there at that rate.”

"You think we ought to go on?" said Lucy.

"Im not sure the High King is lost," said Trumpkin. "Whats to hinder this river being the Rush?”

"Because the Rush is not in a gorge," said Peter, keeping his temper with some difficulty.

"Your Majesty says is," replied the Dwarf, "but oughtnt you to say was? You knew this country hundreds - it may be a thousand - years ago. Maynt it have changed? A landslide might have pulled off half the side of that hill, leaving bare rock, and there are your precipices beyond the gorge. Then the Rush might go on deepening its course year after

year till you get the little precipices this side. Or there might have been an earthquake, or anything.”

"I never thought of that," said Peter.

"And anyway," continued Trumpkin, "even if this is not the Rush, its flowing roughly north and so it must fall into the Great River anyway. I think I passed something that might have been it, on my way down. So if we go downstream, to our right, well hit the Great River. Perhaps not so high as wed hoped, but at least well be no worse off than if youd come my way.”

"Trumpkin, youre a brick," said Peter. "Come on, then. Down this side of the gorge.”

"Look! Look! Look!" cried Lucy.

"Where? What?" said everyone.

"The Lion," said Lucy. "Aslan himself. Didnt you see?" Her face had changed completely and her eyes shone.

"Do you really mean -?" began Peter.

"Where did you think you saw him?" asked Susan.

"Dont talk like a grown-up," said Lucy, stamping her foot. "I didnt think I saw him. I saw him.”

"Where, Lu?" asked Peter.

"Right up there between those mountain ashes. No, this side of the gorge. And up, not down. Just the opposite of the way you want to go. And he wanted us to go where he was - up there.”

"How do you know that was what he wanted?" asked Edmund.

"He - I - I just know," said Lucy, "by his face.”

The others all looked at each other in puzzled silence.

"Her Majesty may well have seen a lion," put in Trumpkin. "There are lions in these woods, Ive been told. But it neednt have been a friendly and talking lion any more than the bear was a friendly and talking bear.”

"Oh, dont be so stupid," said Lucy. "Do you think I dont know Aslan when I see him?”

"Hed be a pretty elderly lion by now," said Trumpkin, "if hes one you knew when you were here before! And if it could be the same one, whats to prevent him having gone wild and witless like so many others?”

Lucy turned crimson and I think she would have flown at Trumpkin, if Peter had not laid his hand on her arm. "The D.L.F. doesnt understand. How could he? You must just take it, Trumpkin, that we do really know about Aslan; a little bit about him, I mean. And you mustnt talk about him like that again. It isnt lucky for one thing: and its all nonsense for another. The only question is whether Aslan was really there.”

"But I know he was," said Lucy, her eyes filling with tears.

"Yes, Lu, but we dont, you see," said Peter.

"Theres nothing for it but a vote," said Edmund.

"All right," replied Peter. "Youre the eldest, D.L.F. What do you vote for? Up or down?”

"Down," said the Dwarf. "I know nothing about Aslan. But I do know that if we turn left and follow the gorge up, it might lead us all day before we found a place where we could cross it. Whereas if we turn right and go down, were bound to reach the Great River in about a couple of hours. And if there are any real lions about, we want to go away from them, not towards them.”

"What do you say, Susan?”

"Dont be angry, Lu," said Susan, "but I do think we should go down. Im dead tired. Do lets get out of this wretched wood into the open as quick as we can. And none of us except you saw anything.”

"Edmund?" said Peter.

"Well, theres just this," said Edmund, speaking quickly and turning a little red. "When we first discovered Narnia a year ago - or a thousand years ago, whichever it is - it was Lucy who discovered it first and none of us would believe her. I was the worst of the lot, I know. Yet she was right after all. Wouldnt it be fair to believe her this time? I vote for going up.”

"Oh, Ed!" said Lucy and seized his hand.

"And now its your turn, Peter," said Susan, "and I do hope -”

"Oh, shut up, shut up and let a chap think," interrupted Peter. "Id much rather not have to vote. “

"Youre the High King," said Trumpkin sternly.

"Down," said Peter after a long pause. "I know Lucy may be right after all, but I cant help it. We must do one or the other.”

So they set off to their right along the edge, downstream. And Lucy came last of the party, crying bitterly.