Back to: Harry Potter » The Lion, the Snake, and the Safe Room
Also available as: Epub | lit | mobi | pdf | txt
The Lion, the Snake, and the Safe Room
Chapter 6: Legend
By Anne B. Walsh
The royalty of Narnia gathered for breakfast in the dining hall, which faced east to the sea and the morning light. Fauns and dryads in royal livery carried platters and bowls of food to and from the table, but the kings and queens served themselves and handed the dishes down the table just as any parents would. Harry imitated them, taking a helping of anything that looked good and passing it on to Hermione, sitting beside him.
She looks like she’s had a good morning already. Meghan too. The smaller girl, across from Harry, was cheerfully pulling apart a pastry, tasting different pieces of it before taking a bite. And Malfoy—Draco—
He looks like someone tripped him, and he’s not sure if he’s going to fall yet. The image shouldn’t have amused Harry as much as it did, but he couldn’t help it. As long as he could remember, and these memories were quite clear, the blond boy had been supremely self-confident except in moments when something was actively happening that he couldn’t deal with.
A slightly fuzzy memory slipped to the top of Harry’s mind, of a time when there’d been a large animal, something he himself had been able to handle correctly. Draco had tried and failed, and got hurt as a result.
He panicked while he was bleeding, but a couple of hours later, he was his usual self again. Playing it for sympathy, trying to make it all my fault.
Is there something happening that’s still going on? That would explain why he still looks that way...
Queen Caelin coughed, breaking the silence. “I spoke to Garnet just before breakfast,” she said to the table generally. “She mentioned that she had spoken to Harry about some of our legends which deal with folk like our four young heirs. Folk who use a different magic than ours, a magic focused through small wands.”
“I admit to curiosity,” said Queen Ilana, leaning forward. “What do the wands look like? How are they used?”
Harry dug in his pocket and pulled out his wand, Hermione and Meghan not far behind him. Even Draco produced his without much of a sulky look.
“They’re made from all different sorts of wood,” Harry said, handing his up the table. “Mine is holly. Hermione’s is...”
“Vine wood,” Hermione supplied. “Meghan’s looks like ebony.”
“It is,” said Meghan, beaming. “Draco, what’s yours?”
“Hazel,” Draco said shortly. “With dragon heartstring.”
“Dragon what?” Queen Caelin nearly dropped the wand, which she happened to be holding.
“The wands have magical objects as cores,” Hermione explained rapidly. “Some part of a magical creature, usually. Unicorn tail hair, phoenix feather, and dragon heartstring are the most common, but I’ve heard of veela hair, even thestral hair...”
“Is there any reason for a certain wood to be paired with a certain type of object?” asked King Ardan, running a finger down the length of Harry’s wand.
“We don’t know,” Meghan said frankly. “We don’t make wands. There are shops where you can buy them, and you don’t get to pick out the wand. It picks you.”
“Ahhh.” Ardan balanced Harry’s wand in his hand, then wrapped his hand around the grip. “May I?” he asked Harry.
“Sure.” Harry nodded, somehow flattered that the High King had known exactly whose wand he was holding.
Ardan turned away from the table and waved the wand in a careful loop. Golden sparks shot from its tip, most of them dying out in midair, though one or two hit the carpet and blinked hopefully for an instant before disappearing. The queens breathed wonder, and King Gilles laughed. “Trust you to have the knack of a new type of magic before the rest of us are fully aware it’s here, Ardan!”
“I suppose I do have an advantage,” Ardan acknowledged, turning back to the table with a smile. “But it goes with the story of our ancient times. If you wish to hear it.”
“Very much,” said Hermione firmly. Harry and Meghan and Draco all nodded.
“Very well.” Ilana stood. “The morning room, perhaps? It is as well placed as this, and more comfortable. The story can be long if it is fully told.”
“That sounds good.” Harry accepted his wand back from Caelin and stood, tucking it into his pocket again without looking. Caelin’s eyes followed his movement, and she nodded and gave him a faint smile.
I guess I did something right... wonder what.
On a whim, he crooked his arm and offered it to Hermione, who laughed and rested her hand on it. Draco gave him a sour look, but stuck out his elbow in Meghan’s general direction. Meghan sniffed and placed the very tips of her fingers on the older boy’s arm, as though she didn’t care to get too close.
Of course, who would?
The four heirs followed the kings and queens down a short corridor into a smaller, cozier room where Kargin and Garnet were sitting, playing chess. They stood and bowed as the royals entered the room, and Kargin set the chessboard aside on a small table built to its exact size, but as the kings and queens found seats, so did the two dwarves. They obviously meant to stay for the tale.
King Gilles sat forward in his armchair and cleared his throat. “You know, I assume, of High King Peter and his brother and sisters,” he said in a conversational tone. “Of how they came to our land, and with the help of Aslan defeated the White Witch and broke her winter. You know that they came here, to Cair Paravel, and took the four thrones, and reigned long and well. But the tale of how the four thrones came to be in Cair Paravel is a different one altogether, and far less well-known, which is a great shame. Will you hear it now?”
“We will,” Kargin and Garnet said softly.
“We will,” Harry echoed them, Hermione and Meghan joining him. Draco nodded his head, but politely.
“Then I will tell it.” Gilles lifted his head and gazed into the distance for a moment, and when he looked back at them, his eyes were remote. “Hear now the tale of Gaubert and Regulo, and of Leticia and Beatrix. Kings and Queens of Narnia they became, and the salvation of our land, and it was in their honor that four thrones stood in the hall of Cair Paravel when the little queen, Lucy, first stepped from her world into ours.
“This is their tale.”
Long and long ago, when still there ruled in Narnia the line of King Frank and Queen Helen, who were given dominion by Aslan on the first day of all things, a black time came to fair Narnia. The Trees were restless, and claimed they were not given the respect they were due. The snake-people of the northern mountains schemed and plotted war. And due to an illness in her youth, the Queen was barren. Healers and doctors alike tried to help her, but both she and the King were growing older, so that soon even if she were healed there would be no chance for an heir of their bodies.
Such was the way of things in Narnia on one bright morning when, in plain view of many, at the edge of the Forest near Cair Paravel, the miracle occurred. A flash of light brighter than the sun, and a sound as of a thunderclap though no clouds were in the sky, and when both had passed, there stood four young people, with small sticks in their hands and astonishment in their eyes.
Two of these young people were men and two women, and none were more than twenty years of age, and all looked upon the centaurs and the dryads and the Talking Beasts with wonder but no surprise. And when they had been brought to the King and Queen, they did them respectful duty and gave their names.
The elder of the men, his hair the color of the sand on the shore and his eyes bright as the sun, named himself Gaubert. His junior, whose hair was the dark brown of good earth and whose face was a closed book, was called Regulo. The taller of the ladies, she with straight shining auburn tresses and the bearing of a queen herself, gave the name Leticia. The shorter, with curls of brown and a smile as merry as the morning, laughed and said that she was Beatrix.
“Why has Aslan sent you to us?” the King queried them.
But at this, they all looked puzzled, for it seemed that none of them knew the name of Aslan. By further questions, it was established that they had been attacked by a great enemy of theirs, one who had likely hoped to slay them all at once. Indeed, they had half-thought that they had been slain, but had quickly realized that they had instead been transported far from their home.
“But it will likely have the same result, if we stay away too long,” said Gaubert, speaking for the others. “We have a great undertaking in the works, and we four are the impetus behind it. It will collapse if we are absent for a long period. Can you help us return to our home?”
“I believe that we can,” said the King after a moment to consider, “but there will be a price to pay.”
“There is always a price to pay,” said Regulo, speaking for the first time. “Tell us what it is, and we will see if we can make a deal.”
The King explained the three great troubles attending the land—the possible revolt of the Trees, the imminent invasion of the snake-folk, and the illness of the Queen. “Any man, or any group, who could solve these problems would have our royal gratitude,” he said, “and the pledge of Narnia to devote all its resources to solving their problems in turn.”
“I have been called very fair in decision,” said Beatrix. “I would endeavor to find the trouble with those of your subjects who are unhappy.”
“I am shrewd in bargaining,” said Regulo. “I can accompany my friend and help her to negotiate.”
“I have studied some healing,” said Leticia. “Perhaps I can help you, Your Majesty.” She bowed low to the Queen, who smiled and bowed back.
Gaubert sighed. “I know not what I can do, unless your trouble with the northern tribes comes to open war,” he said. “For my best use is on a battlefield, or in a fight.”
“Peace, child,” the Queen said, smiling. “There will be time enough for battles.”
And so it was that Beatrix and Regulo left Cair Paravel that very day, bearing packs and walking on their own two feet, bound first for the Forests and then for the northern mountains, to see if they could together negotiate peace and safety for Narnia. Their friends embraced them before they left, and wished them a safe journey, and Gaubert in particular watched them out of sight.
Leticia, for her part, was examining the Queen, and what she found made her sigh. “Your Majesty, the damage is beyond my skill to heal fully,” she said, sadly stroking the small stick she carried, which she had called a wand. “In my land, I might be able to help you somewhat, but not with this—I would create a potion, a medicine, with flowers and herbs that I know, and it would give you a chance at bearing children, but no more. Have you anything which grows here that might do the same?”
“Fireflowers,” the Queen said. “The fireflowers which grow in the valleys of the sun. Their juice cures all ailments and heals all wounds. But...”
“But me no buts,” said Gaubert, who had waited just outside the room and now entered. “If fireflowers shall cure you, Your Majesty, then fireflowers you shall have. If my dear friend will accompany me on a journey to the sun?”
He smiled at Leticia, who rapped him lightly on the head with her wand and laughed. “Rogue! You know I would rather die than be left out of such a fine adventure!”
And so it was that Gaubert and Leticia left Cair Paravel only a few days later, sailing on one of the King’s finest ships, bound for the Eastern edge of the world, to leap onto the sun as it came up in the morning and there pluck the fireflowers which would cure the Queen.
Gilles paused for a sip of the tea he had brought with him from the breakfast room. “It is here that the tale breaks into fragments,” he said. “Two parts, in the main, though one of those parts has a hidden side that is not known. Which would you like to hear first?”
“Tell the one with the hidden part,” Meghan said immediately. “I love mysteries.”
“I think I want to know about the mystery too,” said Hermione. “Harry?”
Harry shrugged. “Either’s fine with me.”
“Draco?” Gilles peered past Harry and the girls. “Which do you prefer?”
“I want to hear the mystery. Please.” The last word came out a bit explosively, and Harry would have bet money on it being an eleventh-hour addition, but at least it was there.
He glanced to one side and bit his tongue—Kargin and Garnet were doing an identical jaw-dropped bug-eyed stare at Draco, until they both shook their heads and settled back into their cross-legged positions to listen again.
I really shouldn’t think that’s funny.
Except that it is...
Harry put away philosophy and morals and listened as Gilles began again.
Beatrix and Regulo walked for days, until they were deep in the Forests where the folk of the Trees are many. The Trees in those days were not as friendly to humans as they are now, for some of the humans—and indeed some of the beasts, and the other creatures around—had treated them badly, stealing wood and setting fires where they were not wanted. And so it may not have been pure chance that Beatrix caught her foot on a root rising from the ground and fell, laming herself badly.
Regulo caught his friend as she fell, but the damage was done. Beatrix would not be able to travel fast nor far for many days, perhaps weeks. They made a camp, carefully shielding their small fire with stone, and considered what they should do next.
“There is only one way,” said Beatrix finally. “You must leave me here and journey on without me.”
“Leave you?” Regulo shook his head. “We have no way of knowing how the Tree-folk will treat you without me here to help and protect you. You could be kidnapped, treated as a hostage. I will not leave you to such a fate.”
Beatrix laughed. “You think all people are as suspicious and twisty-minded as you,” she chided, shaking a finger at her friend. “Some people respond better to trust, dear friend. I think these Trees may be of that kind. If I remain here, alone and injured, it is a clear sign that I am trusting in them not to harm me—indeed, to help me, for I will not be able to go far to gather firewood or food.”
“And thus you may freeze or starve before I can return,” Regulo countered. “Would you have me condemn you to such a fate?”
“The King told us that only a few years agone, the Trees were the friends of humans,” Beatrix said patiently. “I cannot think they have all become haters of our kind so soon. And if we are to have any chance of gaining the help of Narnia in our return home, we cannot lose any time in accomplishing our goals. You must go on and treat with the snake-people, and I must stay here with the Trees.”
Regulo began to argue again, but Beatrix crossed her arms and shook her head. “If you continue to be obstinate,” she said, “I shall have to hex you, and you will not enjoy that.”
“Well, if that is my only option...” Regulo leapt to his feet and pretended to pack his gear in tearing haste, while Beatrix laughed aloud. Then he crossed to her and embraced her tightly. “Be careful of yourself, dear friend,” he said softly. “I shall miss you.”
“And I you.” Beatrix returned the embrace, then kissed Regulo on the cheek. “Now be off with you, before I decide to hex you in any case.”
Regulo chuckled, but he was on the road again within the hour, leaving Beatrix with a bit more than half of their provisions and almost all their camping gear. She watched and waved until he followed the road around a bend and was lost to her sight, and then returned to her small camp to make it more comfortable.
I would tell you more of Regulo’s travels and his meetings with the snake-folk, but it is his part of the tale which is called hidden, for even many years later, he would never speak of it beyond simple generalities. Yes, he found the hidden caverns, and yes, he spoke with the witch-Queens of the snake-people, and yes, he brought them to see that attacking Narnia would benefit them nothing. Many have speculated that he used very personal methods of treating with these strange and magical tribes, and certainly there are two points which make that seem quite likely...
But that is for later in the story. The tale as we know it concerns Beatrix.
As it happened, she had been right to trust the Trees. Regulo had barely vanished down the road before some of the younger dryads sought her camp, their eyes wide as they saw a human for the first time. Beatrix smiled at them, and drew them to sit with her by the embers of her fire, and showed them how she tended it carefully and kept it well leashed. Before long, the dryads were breaking bits from their leafy hair to throw into the flames, and whispering and giggling with Beatrix as young women will do wherever they are, and so the first bond grew between them.
Hamadryad healers tended to Beatrix’s injuries, and the Trees brought her fruit to eat, and some of the Talking Beasts of the forest hunted or gathered for her in exchange for the tales she could tell of the strange world from which she had come. A Badger named Singlestripe, in particular, sat for hours at a time listening to her stories, and they grew greatly attached, until one was scarcely to be seen without the other. And then one day Singlestripe brought Beatrix, her leg almost fully healed, to his den, and outside it there sat a man.
He was tall and slender, as were the dryads, and his hair and limbs had some of the look of theirs, but Beatrix had by now seen enough of the tree-folk to know that she looked upon a crossbreed, a child of both their blood and her own. She smiled at him, and held out her hand, and he smiled back with some shyness and took it, and they knew in that moment that they would be great friends. The name that he gave her, as befitting a man of the wood, was Sylvanus, and it was he who began to teach her the ways of the forest and its magics.
“My mother’s folk do not think of what they do as magic,” he told her one day as they sat together in one of the great oaks. “It is simply part of what and who they are. But my father’s people are astounded by what they can do, and have begun to envy them. That is part of the root of the bad blood between human and dryad.”
“How can it be healed?” Beatrix asked.
“If a human could learn the magics of the tree-people.” Sylvanus spoke with no hesitancy whatsoever, as if this had long been within his mind. “If a human, with no dryad blood whatsoever, could prove that at least some of what the dryad folk do can be learned. That it is not all innate, and therefore forever out of the reach of those who dream.”
“And you want me to be that human,” said Beatrix, nodding her head. “It is no bad plan. I will do it.”
“Of course, I understand—” Sylvanus stopped. “You will what?”
“I will do it, silly boy.” Beatrix laughed aloud at the astonishment on her friend’s face. “Did you think I would refuse? A chance to learn astounding magic, such as no one else in the world knows, magic which could help and heal so much and so many? Of course I will do it!”
And so began the lessoning of Beatrix. It was not difficult lessoning, but it took nearly a year, while the leaves turned red and gold and fell from the trees, while the snow covered the forest and melted, while new leaves sprouted and the trees bloomed. A year of watching, it was in the main, a year of learning the ways of the forest and all its plants, and of the meadows and the fields as well, and of bringing herself into greater harmony with their song.
At last, though, one day in the early summer, Beatrix laid her hand upon a patch of grass and willed it to grow longer, and the green blades rose thick around her fingers. And she pointed at the dead branch of a tree and told the living wood to throw it off, and it cracked from its place and fell at her feet. And she pressed both hands against the bole of a cherry tree and asked it if it would give her fruit, and only a few moments later, a bough dipped in front of her face, filled with cherries as ripe and round as she had ever seen. She plucked one and laughed and threw it to Sylvanus, and plucked another for herself, and they ate and were happy.
“Are there some for us?” called a voice, and Beatrix leapt to her feet with a glad cry, for the voice was the voice of Regulo, and it was indeed her old friend who stood before her, looking at her handiwork with wondering eyes.
“So I am not the only one with a new gift,” he said, accepting the cherry she held out to him.
“What do you mean?” Beatrix asked.
Regulo drew a deep breath and spoke, but the language was none Beatrix had ever heard before. It was filled with hisses and deep breathy sighs, and at her feet a tiny green head lifted attentively.
“The language of the serpent-folk,” Sylvanus breathed from beside the tree. “You have learned to speak it.”
“I have.” Regulo bowed courteously, though his eyes wondered who this strange man might be. “More than that, I have become rather eloquent in it, if I do say so myself.”
“Why not let me say it for you?” said a female voice, and a woman stepped forward to stand beside Regulo. She had the palest skin Beatrix had ever imagined, and eyes as green as the scales of the little snake in the grass as their feet, and hair as black as the inside of a cave, but her red lips smiled and her hand closed around Regulo’s.
“He charmed my mother, the Queen of our people, and won my heart from within my breast,” the woman went on. “We are wed after the fashion of my folk, and I will go with my Regulo wherever he may go, even into the other world from whence he tells me he comes. My name is Therese, and I greet you.” And she bowed.
“I am Sylvanus,” said the owner of that name, returning the bow, “and I am merely another friend of Beatrix’s, not a husband nor likely to be, though I care dearly for her. I am pleased to meet you, Therese, and you, Regulo. Beatrix speaks of you often.”
“And I of her, trust me.” Regulo seated himself on the ground, Therese beside him. “And of our other friends, Gaubert and Leticia. Have you had any news of them?”
“No!” Beatrix clapped her hands to her mouth. “Dear heavens, it has been a year, and I have barely thought of them...”
“You have been busy,” said Therese. “Do not blame yourself. But tomorrow, perhaps, we shall all journey to Cair Paravel and see what we can learn there.”
“I will gladly come if you will have me,” Sylvanus told Beatrix.
“There is no one I would rather journey with,” she answered.
“What of me?” Regulo pouted.
“I would not rather journey with you, foolish boy,” Beatrix teased. “I would journey with both of you, and with your lady as well, so cease your silly prattling!”
And they all laughed and were so agreed.
Hermione frowned as Gilles paused once more. “There’s something about this story,” she said slowly. “It’s as if I’ve heard it before... or parts of it, anyway.”
“The powers,” Draco said, almost too quiet to be heard. “There are stories about people back home, important people, who had powers like that. It’s hidden.”
“Hidden?” Ilana asked, then shook her head. “I am sorry, I forgot. You agreed to let many of your memories lie shut away for the time being, so that you could live in our Narnia without endless longing for your home.”
“Yes, we did.” Harry closed his eyes. “But I don’t think I’ve ever heard about anyone with powers like the ones in the story.”
“You didn’t grow up magical,” said Meghan. “Draco and I did. And you don’t read as much as Hermione does, so you wouldn’t have heard about them that way.”
“That makes sense.” Harry let the story settle into the back of his mind, then looked up at Gilles. “Is the next part about Gaubert and Leticia?”
“Oh, yes, and their journey to the sun, and the strange places and people they found along the way. Shall I go on?”
“Yes, please,” said six voices at once.
Gilles smiled and returned to the story.
Author Notes:
But we shall not, at least not yet...
Don’t get greedy now. There’s lots more where this came from, and now that I’ve actually kicked myself back into gear, maybe I can actually let it come out. Just keep reminding me, I have to put one word after the other... that’s all there is to it, really, one word after the other... my track record’s not so great, I know, but I can dream, can’t I?
How about this. If twenty or more people can tell me who and what are actually depicted in Gilles’ story, I promise to write the next chapter before the end of 2007!