The Chronicles of Narnia Complete 7-Book Collection with Bonus Book

by C. S. Lewis

  Then came the worst part, the waiting. Luckily for the children they slept for a couple of hours, but of course they woke up when the night grew cold, and what was worse, woke up very thirsty and with no chance of getting a drink. Puzzle just stood, shivering a little with nervousness, and said nothing. But Tirian, with his head against Jewel’s flank, slept as soundly as if he were in his royal bed at Cair Paravel, till the sound of a gong beating awoke him and he sat up and saw that there was firelight on the far side of the stable and knew that the hour had come.

  “Kiss me, Jewel,” he said. “For certainly this is our last night on earth. And if ever I offended against you in any matter great or small, forgive me now.”

  “Dear King,” said the Unicorn, “I could almost wish you had, so that I might forgive it. Farewell. We have known great joys together. If Aslan gave me my choice I would choose no other life than the life I have had and no other death than the one we go to.”

  Then they woke up Farsight, who was asleep with his head under his wing (it made him look as if he had no head at all), and crept forward to the stable. They left Puzzle (not without a kind word, for no one was angry with him now) just behind it, telling him not to move till someone came to fetch him, and took up their position at one end of the stable.

  The bonfire had not been lit for long and was just beginning to blaze up. It was only a few feet away from them, and the great crowd of Narnian creatures were on the other side of it, so that Tirian could not at first see them very well, though of course he saw dozens of eyes shining with the reflection of the fire, as you’ve seen a rabbit’s or cat’s eyes in the headlights of a car. And just as Tirian took his place, the gong stopped beating and from somewhere on his left three figures appeared. One was Rishda Tarkaan the Calormene Captain. The second was the Ape. He was holding on to the Tarkaan’s hand with one paw and kept whimpering and muttering, “Not so fast, don’t go so fast, I’m not at all well. Oh, my poor head! These midnight meetings are getting too much for me. Apes aren’t meant to be up at night: It’s not as if I was a rat or a bat—oh my poor head.” On the other side of the Ape, walking very soft and stately, with his tail straight up in the air, came Ginger the Cat. They were heading for the bonfire and were so close to Tirian that they would have seen him at once if they had looked in the right direction. Fortunately they did not. But Tirian heard Rishda say to Ginger in a low voice:

  “Now, Cat, to thy post. See thou play thy part well.”

  “Miaow, miaow. Count on me!” said Ginger. Then he stepped away beyond the bonfire and sat down in the front row of the assembled Beasts: in the audience, as you might say.

  For really, as it happened, the whole thing was rather like a theater. The crowd of Narnians were like the people in the seats; the little grassy place just in front of the stable, where the bonfire burned and the Ape and the Captain stood to talk to the crowd, was like the stage; the stable itself was like the scenery at the back of the stage; and Tirian and his friends were like people peering round from behind the scenery. It was a splendid position. If any of them stepped forward into the full firelight, all eyes would be fixed on him at once: on the other hand, so long as they stood still in the shadow of the end-wall of the stable, it was a hundred to one against their being noticed.

  Rishda Tarkaan dragged the Ape up close to the fire. The pair of them turned to face the crowd, and this of course meant that their backs were toward Tirian and his friends.

  “Now, Monkey,” said Rishda Tarkaan in a low voice. “Say the words that wiser heads have put into thy mouth. And hold up thy head.” As he spoke he gave the Ape a little prod or kick from behind with the point of his toe.

  “Do leave me alone,” muttered Shift. But he sat up straighter and began, in a louder voice—“Now listen, all of you. A terrible thing has happened. A wicked thing. The wickedest thing that ever was done in Narnia. And Aslan—”

  “Tashlan, fool,” whispered Rishda Tarkaan.

  “Tashlan I mean, of course,” said the Ape, “is very angry about it.”

  There was a terrible silence while the Beasts waited to hear what new trouble was in store for them. The little party by the end-wall of the stable also held their breath. What on earth was coming now?

  “Yes,” said the Ape. “At this very moment, when the Terrible One himself is among us—there in the stable just behind me—one wicked Beast has chosen to do what you’d think no one would dare to do even if He were a thousand miles away. It has dressed itself up in a lion-skin and is wandering about in these very woods pretending to be Aslan.”

  Jill wondered for a moment if the Ape had gone mad. Was he going to tell the whole truth? A roar of horror and rage went up from the Beasts. “Grrr!” came the growls. “Who is he? Where is he? Just let me get my teeth into him!”

  “It was seen last night,” screamed the Ape, “but it got away. It’s a Donkey! A common, miserable Ass! If any of you see that Ass—”

  “Grrr!” growled the Beasts. “We will, we will. He’d better keep out of our way.”

  Jill looked at the King: his mouth was open and his face was full of horror. And then she understood the devilish cunning of the enemies’ plan. By mixing a little truth with it they had made their lie far stronger. What was the good, now, of telling the Beasts that an ass had been dressed up as a lion to deceive them? The Ape would only say, “That’s just what I’ve said.” What was the good of showing them Puzzle in his lion-skin? They would only tear him in pieces. “That’s taken the wind out of our sails,” whispered Eustace. “The ground is taken from under our feet,” said Tirian. “Cursed, cursed cleverness!” said Poggin. “I’ll be sworn that this new lie is of Ginger’s making.”

  Chapter Ten

  Who Will Go Into the Stable?

  JILL FELT SOMETHING TICKLING HER EAR. IT WAS Jewel the Unicorn, whispering to her with the wide whisper of a horse’s mouth. As soon as she heard what he was saying she nodded and tiptoed back to where Puzzle was standing. Quickly and quietly she cut the last cords that bound the lion-skin to him. It wouldn’t do for him to be caught with that on, after what the Ape had said! She would like to have hidden the skin somewhere very far away, but it was too heavy. The best she could do was to kick it in among the thickest bushes. Then she made signs to Puzzle to follow her and they both joined the others.

  The Ape was speaking again.

  “And after a horrid thing like that, Aslan—Tashlan—is angrier than ever. He says he’s been a great deal too good to you, coming out every night to be looked at, see! Well, he’s not coming out any more.”

  Howls and mewings and squeals and grunts were the Animals’ answer to this, but suddenly a quite different voice broke in with a loud laugh.

  “Hark what the monkey says,” it shouted. “We know why he isn’t going to bring his precious Aslan out. I’ll tell you why: because he hasn’t got him. He never had anything except an old donkey with a lion-skin on its back. Now he’s lost that and he doesn’t know what to do.”

  Tirian could not see the faces on the other side of the fire very well but he guessed this was Griffle the Chief Dwarf. And he was quite certain of it when, a second later, all the Dwarfs’ voices joined in, singing: “Don’t know what to do! Don’t know what to do! Don’t know what to do-o-o!”

  “Silence!” thundered Rishda Tarkaan. “Silence, children of mud! Listen to me, you other Narnians, lest I give command to my warriors to fall upon you with the edge of the sword. The Lord Shift has already told you of that wicked Ass. Do you think, because of him that there is no real Tashlan in the stable! Do you? Beware, beware!”

  “No, no,” shouted most of the crowd. But the Dwarfs said, “That’s right, Darkie, you’ve got it. Come on, Monkey, show us what’s in the stable, seeing is believing.”

  When next there was a moment’s quiet the Ape said:

  “You Dwarfs think you’re very clever, don’t you? But not so fast. I never said you couldn’t see Tashlan. Anyone who likes can see him.”

  T
he whole assembly became silent. Then, after nearly a minute, the Bear began in a slow, puzzled voice:

  “I don’t quite understand all this,” it grumbled, “I thought you said—”

  “You thought!” repeated the Ape. “As if anyone could call what goes on in your head thinking. Listen, you others. Anyone can see Tashlan. But he’s not coming out. You have to go in and see him.”

  “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you,” said dozens of voices. “That’s what we wanted! We can go in and see him face to face. And now he’ll be kind and it will all be as it used to be.” And the Birds chattered, and the Dogs barked excitedly. Then suddenly, there was a great stirring and a noise of creatures rising to their feet, and in a second the whole lot of them would have been rushing forward and trying to crowd into the stable door all together. But the Ape shouted:

  “Get back! Quiet! Not so fast.”

  The Beasts stopped, many of them with one paw in the air, many with tails wagging, and all of them with heads on one side.

  “I thought you said,” began the Bear, but Shift interrupted.

  “Anyone can go in,” he said. “But, one at a time. Who’ll go first? He didn’t say he was feeling very kind. He’s been licking his lips a lot since he swallowed up the wicked King the other night. He’s been growling a good deal this morning. I wouldn’t much like to go into that stable myself tonight. But just as you please. Who’d like to go in first? Don’t blame me if he swallows you whole or blasts you into a cinder with the mere terror of his eyes. That’s your affair. Now then! Who’s first? What about one of you Dwarfs?”

  “Dilly, dilly, come and be killed!” sneered Griffle. “How do we know what you’ve got in there?”

  “Ho-ho!” cried the Ape. “So you’re beginning to think there’s something there, eh? Well, all you Beasts were making noise enough a minute ago. What’s struck you all dumb? Who’s going in first?”

  But the Beasts all stood looking at one another and began backing away from the stable. Very few tails were wagging now. The Ape waddled to and fro jeering at them. “Ho-ho-ho!” he chuckled. “I thought you were all so eager to see Tashlan face to face! Changed your mind, eh?”

  Tirian bent his head to hear something that Jill was trying to whisper in his ear. “What do you think is really inside the stable?” she said. “Who knows?” said Tirian. “Two Calormenes with drawn swords, as likely as not, one on each side of the door.” “You don’t think,” said Jill, “it might be . . . you know . . . that horrid thing we saw?” “Tash himself?” whispered Tirian. “There’s no knowing. But courage, child: we are all between the paws of the true Aslan.”

  Then a most surprising thing happened. Ginger the Cat said in a cool, clear voice, not at all as if he was excited, “I’ll go in, if you like.”

  Every creature turned and fixed its eyes on the Cat. “Mark their subtleties, Sire,” said Poggin to the King. “This cursed cat is in the plot, in the very center of it. Whatever is in the stable will not hurt him, I’ll be bound. Then Ginger will come out again and say that he has seen some wonder.”

  But Tirian had no time to answer him. The Ape was calling the Cat to come forward. “Ho-ho!” said the Ape. “So you, a pert Puss, would look upon him face to face. Come on, then! I’ll open the door for you. Don’t blame me if he scares the whiskers off your face. That’s your affair.”

  And the Cat got up and came out of its place in the crowd, walking primly and daintily, with its tail in the air, not one hair on its sleek coat out of place. It came on till it had passed the fire and was so close that Tirian, from where he stood with his shoulder against the end-wall of the stable, could look right into its face. Its big green eyes never blinked. (“Cool as a cucumber,” muttered Eustace. “It knows it has nothing to fear.”) The Ape, chuckling and making faces, shuffled across beside the Cat: put up his paw: drew the bolt and opened the door. Tirian thought he could hear the Cat purring as it walked into the dark doorway.

  “Aii-aii-aouwee!—” The most horrible caterwaul you ever heard made everyone jump. You have been wakened yourself by cats quarreling or making love on the roof in the middle of the night: you know the sound.

  This was worse. The Ape was knocked head over heels by Ginger coming back out of the stable at top speed. If you had not known he was a cat, you might have thought he was a ginger-colored streak of lightning. He shot across the open grass, back into the crowd. No one wants to meet a cat in that state. You could see animals getting out of his way to left and right. He dashed up a tree, whisked round, and hung head downward. His tail was bristled out till it was nearly as thick as his whole body: his eyes were like saucers of green fire: along his back every single hair stood on end.

  “I’d give my beard,” whispered Poggin, “to know whether that brute is only acting or whether it has really found something in there that frightened it!”

  “Peace, friend,” said Tirian, for the Captain and the Ape were also whispering and he wanted to hear what they said. He did not succeed, except that he heard the Ape once more whimpering “My head, my head,” but he got the idea that those two were almost as puzzled by the cat’s behavior as himself.

  “Now, Ginger,” said the Captain. “Enough of that noise. Tell them what thou hast seen.”

  “Aii—Aii—Aaow—Awah,” screamed the Cat.

  “Art thou not called a Talking Beast?” said the Captain. “Then hold thy devilish noise and talk.”

  What followed was rather horrible. Tirian felt quite certain (and so did the others) that the Cat was trying to say something: but nothing came out of his mouth except the ordinary, ugly cat-noises you might hear from any angry or frightened old Tom in a backyard in England. And the longer he caterwauled the less like a Talking Beast he looked. Uneasy whimperings and little sharp squeals broke out from among the other Animals.

  “Look, look!” said the voice of the Bear. “It can’t talk. It has forgotten how to talk! It has gone back to being a dumb beast. Look at its face.” Everyone saw that it was true. And then the greatest terror of all fell upon those Narnians. For every one of them had been taught—when only a chick or a puppy or a cub—how Aslan at the beginning of the world had turned the beasts of Narnia into Talking Beasts and warned them that if they weren’t good they might one day be turned back again and be like the poor witless animals one meets in other countries. “And now it is coming upon us,” they moaned.

  “Mercy! Mercy!” wailed the Beasts. “Spare us, Lord Shift, stand between us and Aslan, you must always go in and speak to him for us. We daren’t, we daren’t.”

  Ginger disappeared further up into the tree. No one ever saw him again.

  Tirian stood with his hand on his sword-hilt and his head bowed. He was dazed with the horrors of that night. Sometimes he thought it would be best to draw his sword at once and rush upon the Calormenes: then next moment he thought it would be better to wait and see what new turn affairs might take. And now a new turn came.

  “My Father,” came a clear, ringing voice from the left of the crowd. Tirian knew at once that it was one of the Calormenes speaking, for in The Tisroc’s army the common soldiers call the officers “My Master” but the officers call their senior officers “My Father.” Jill and Eustace didn’t know this but, after looking this way and that, they saw the speaker, for of course people at the sides of the crowd were easier to see than people in the middle where the glare of the fire made all beyond it look rather black. He was young and tall and slender, and even rather beautiful in the dark, haughty, Calormene way.

  “My Father,” he said to the Captain, “I also desire to go in.”

  “Peace, Emeth,” said the Captain. “Who called thee to counsel? Does it become a boy to speak?”

  “My Father,” said Emeth. “Truly I am younger than thou, yet I also am of the blood of the Tarkaans even as thou art, and I also am the servant of Tash. Therefore . . .”

  “Silence,” said Rishda Tarkaan. “Am I not thy Captain? Thou hast nothing to do with this stable
. It is for the Narnians.”

  “Nay, my Father,” answered Emeth. “Thou hast said that their Aslan and our Tash are all one. And if that is the truth, then Tash himself is in yonder. And how then sayest thou that I have nothing to do with him? For gladly would I die a thousand deaths if I might look once on the face of Tash.”

  “Thou art a fool and understandest nothing,” said Rishda Tarkaan. “These be high matters.”

  Emeth’s face grew sterner. “Is it then not true that Tash and Aslan are all one?” he asked. “Has the Ape lied to us?”

  “Of course they’re all one,” said the Ape.

  “Swear it, Ape,” said Emeth.

  “Oh dear!” whimpered Shift, “I wish you’d all stop bothering me. My head does ache. Yes, yes, I swear it.”

  “Then, my Father,” said Emeth, “I am utterly determined to go in.”

  “Fool,” began Rishda Tarkaan, but at once the Dwarfs began shouting: “Come along, Darkie. Why don’t you let him in? Why do you let Narnians in and keep your own people out? What have you got in there that you don’t want your own men to meet?”

  Tirian and his friends could only see the back of Rishda Tarkaan, so they never knew what his face looked like as he shrugged his shoulders and said, “Bear witness all that I am guiltless of this young fool’s blood. Get thee in, rash boy, and make haste.”

  Then, just as Ginger had done, Emeth came walking forward into the open strip of grass between the bonfire and the stable. His eyes were shining, his face very solemn, his hand was on his sword-hilt, and he carried his head high. Jill felt like crying when she looked at his face. And Jewel whispered in the King’s ear, “By the Lion’s Mane, I almost love this young warrior, Calormene though he be. He is worthy of a better god than Tash.”