Chapter Six: Missteps and Millstones

I am firmly of the belief that every little brother should have a little brother of his own, if only for a day - an hour - just to know what it's like. Let them enjoy the arch looks and smugness we elder brothers endure when romance goes awry. Let them feel the burn of being a larger target. Mind you I love my brother dearly, but there are brief instances when I wish our birth order was reversed and I had the luxury of watching from below.

This morning stands out as a prime example.

Tover, the Elephant who taught statecraft to Edmund and me, had been reluctantly dragged off to the Scoti Fells over by Beruna by his wife in order for her to visit with her family. A month of in-laws was enough to try even Tover's legendary tact, and I had never before seen our teacher quite so glum or sigh so often as the week before his departure. His martyrdom in the name of married bliss meant that Edmund and I had an extra two hours to ourselves on Second Day and Third Day. Since almost every hour of every day is accounted for in the life of a king, we set about wasting this time with enthusiasm and good will but indifferent success. After three years of royal routine, we discovered (to our surprise, disappointment, and wry amusement) that we weren't very good at it anymore. Usually we sent for a snack and ended up playing chess or exploring the Cair's library. So even when we were at rest, we were working after a fashion, and even with extra time we still managed every time to be late to the midday meal before we held court.

This day, however, I had hoped to use those hours to take Lady Anelata to the Eastern Garden and show her all its exotic plants. I had gotten word that the first of the blue flags were abloom, and I thought to make up for whatever might have upset her so the day we had encountered Xati. I was rather let down, then, when my page Marin returned with Anelata's polite regrets.

"Thank you, Marin," I said automatically, trying my best to hide how out of sorts I felt. I couldn't help but wonder if being a king had spoiled me. Was I really so used to being agreed with all the time that this small refusal should upset me? I should be used to being put in my place considering my sisters, and how Oreius and Celer beat me flat at least once a sennight, and every Black Dwarf in Narnia looked at me with unbridled contempt, and Dame Utha pounced with all the ferocity of a tigress before I could make a mistake in chess, and Edmund had been very, very Edmund ever since the party from Archenland had arrived. Echoing Tover, I sighed.

"I would have thought the lady would be dragging you off by the hand to have you to herself," Edmund commented dryly as Marin departed. He had a grand assortment of rags piled on the table before him as he cleaned and oiled his dagger. I recognized it as the blade Xati and Kanell had presented to him when he married them. He was almost as possessive of it as I was of the dagger he had made me.

"Have I misstepped?" I wondered.

Edmund looked up from his industry. "Kings do not misstep, Peter. It's the musicians and other dancers who err."

I thought of the Centaurs dancing in the great hall of the Cair for the second anniversary of Beruna. I had never seen such precision before or since. "In Anvard, perhaps," I muttered, matching his wry tone.

"Mayhap the lady fears another encounter with pending motherhood. 'Tis spring, after all, and Lion preserve us but life dares to go on in all its messy and shameless glory."

"You don't approve of Anelata," I stated, snagging a rag before sitting at the foot of the bed. For something to do I pulled out my dagger and followed his example. "Why? She's as kind as she is sweet."

"The same can be said of Master Boont, Pa'ala Mivven, and Captain Xati by their admirers, yet they're as prickly an array of dames as one could hope to find. I'm indifferent to the lady outside of the impact she has upon you."

"Me?"

"Do I have another brother, brother?" he inquired. I glowered, but it had no effect on his superior little smirk. "Mooning ill becomes you. Remember what Tover said before he was marched off to his doom at Scoti?"

"Pray remind me, Just King."

"He said that when you get married, you don't just marry your betrothed, but her whole herd, and she yours."

I considered this snippet of wisdom. "So it's Anelata's herd you disapprove of."

"Small as it is, yes. As much for Peter Pevensie as for Narnia. You're welcome for the Codex Consors again, by the way. From what I've seen and heard, the duchess would hardly be content being relegated to the role of mother-in-law. Anyone that can disapprove of the likes of Ambergriet or look down upon Sir Peridan and his kin is of questionable character in my estimate. Sons of Adam though we may be, we are ourselves Talking Animals after all, though some of our ilk sees fit to hold themselves superior and would not agree, even with a king."

"La," I sighed, rather defeated. Edmund returned to his polishing. I thought for a while and tried to understand, looking at the situation from a number of different angles as I'd been taught, but the only conclusion I drew was the fact that my knowledge was incomplete.

"Where are you going?" he wondered when I abruptly stood.

"Seeking clarity," I confessed in little better than a mumble. I suspected I would have a fine headache before long.

He smiled softly, more sympathetic for me than for my present dilemma. "You found the Garden in the West, Pete. Clarity should be simple."

I returned the Blue River steel blade to its sheath. "Lion grant truth to your words, Ed."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I had gone seeking Sir Peridan and found his wife instead. I did not know Lady Saera as well as Peridan or their boys, Jaer and Jaerin, but I did know that she was nobly born and as gracious as she was intelligent and kind. Something about my expression must have sparked her sympathy, because she invited me to take tea with her on the patio of the family's apartment. Peridan, she explained, was scouting the lands around Cair Paravel to find a suitable location to build a manor house for his small family. He was accompanied by several Dwarf builders and a few dozens of soldiers in wont of some exercise, and at Saera's insistence he had taken both sons along to tire them out. They were not expected back until the evening meal.

We were served by one of her maids, and I found it a new experience to be waited upon by a human. Such a thing had never happened to me before in Narnia. For the first time I considered the maid, a pleasant, dark-haired woman named Camilla. She and several other servants had accompanied Peridan's family from Archenland and had chosen to stay on even though there were many Narnians who would have willingly served Peridan and his family in their stead, or indeed Camilla herself. Humans being such novel, curious creatures in this land, Camilla and the other servants from Archenland could easily have left their roles and established their own holdings. That they were content to serve said much about them and the family they attended.

"Thank you, Camilla," said Saera. "I'll pour."

"My lady," she replied with a little curtsey. She drew a deep breath, girding herself. "I'll be about the young sirs' chamber, then." And with a steely glint in her eye she strode off to do battle with whatever havoc Jaer and (more likely) Jaerin had wrought upon their room.

"My husband will be sorry to have missed your visit, King Peter," said Saera, pouring me a saucer of tea in true Narnian fashion. It was not unusual to have tea served in any sort or size container from-thimble-sized cups used by the Mice to tankards and mazers used by Centaurs and other large beasts. I couldn't help but smile at the memory of the last time I'd taken tea in a bowl. Some strikingly beautiful Mergansers had invited Lucy and me to tea, and the warm drink had been too tempting for a days-old ducking to resist. I had been busy chatting, and setting the saucer down between one sip and the next, I found myself with a delightfully fuzzy and contented duckling floating in my tea, to Lucy's joy, my amusement, and her mother's everlasting mortification. It was said taking tea in a saucer as opposed to a teacup gave the drinker a greater appreciation for the brew since more attention and two hands (or paws) are required to drink hot liquid from a bowl, a lesson I took to heart from that day onward.

Saera passed me a covered pot of honey, saying, "Peridan is very eager to establish a residence of our own. He feels, as I do, it will give our family greater permanence here in Narnia. He even speaks of farming and a vineyard."

"More wine in Narnia will always be welcome," I said with authority, thinking of the revels the Fauns and Satyrs seemed to hold for any or no reason. "And King Frank was a farmer to the end of his days. Legend has it he did all his best thinking while walking behind a plow, and a secretary followed him as he did chores. There's a window in the great hall that shows him working the fields, though I seriously doubt Queen Helen allowed him to wear court dress and a crown while reaping grain."

Saera smiled merrily at the notion, and it struck me that she was at an age to my mother, though far less worried and worn. She even sounded like my mother when she leaned forward and quietly said, "You seem troubled, King Peter. My guess is it's in part to your visitors. I know you came seeking my husband, but perhaps I might help in his stead."

"I would appreciate your guidance," I confessed. "And discretion."

"Anything I can give is yours," promised the lady.

Now that I had could speak, I wasn't sure where to start. I hesitated, not wanting to complain or speak ill of a guest and a lady. Saera spared me.

"I have known Duchess Aneles since we were both little girls in Anvard's court, though she's three years younger than I. We were never truly friends, nor yet quite rivals for anything that mattered to me. Her family was wealthier than mine, to be sure, though not as old or noble. She felt a sting from that, for her father was very keen to prove their birth and breeding, and the need to prove such a thing instantly disproves it. Aneles always seemed to set great store in the value of things so that she could think better of herself. She looked down upon me and I remember she commented when I wore the same riding frock thrice in a month-long visit to Duke Parr's estate. I annoyed her by sending thanks for taking such a keen interest in my wardrobe."

Her sensibility pleased me. Small wonder she and Susan got along so well. "I understand that in Archenland, women don't have the status as in Narnia."

"Oh, they have status, King Peter, but their voices are disregarded. Most noble fathers value their daughters not as people, but as potential alliances through marriage, and rarely see them as their own persons, or get to know them as such. Aneles married very young, well before I did, and at her father's order, whereas I married very much against my father's wishes."

I remembered now that Peridan had no title, not even 'sir,' when he had arrived in Narnia. That could only mean that he was of low birth. Small wonder the duchess had not invited Peridan and his family to her tea party. I had never given the situation of rank a thought before, knowing Peridan's true worth as a courtier and swordmaster and friend.

"What of your father, Lady?"

Saera seemed almost to glow, as if lit by some inner fire, and I sensed this was a story she never tired of telling. "My poor father. I'm his eldest child, and the one most like him, so he couldn't bring himself to be completely furious when a plain and poor army captain caught my eye instead of Lord Mann's son. He forbade me to fall in love with anyone so lowly as a son of Dan, but it was too late. I had inherited not only my father's eyes and chin, but also his stubbornness. As the daughter of an old and noble house I had many suitors, but none of them could compare to the one man who dared not ask for my hand. My husband's is an older and nobler house, though poor, a cadet branch of King Frank's fourth great-grandson, Lord Helvein. As my brother stated, they're long on pride, short on titles."

"Lucky them. At times I think titles weigh more than millstones."

"So I discovered once I cast mine off. Oh, I was the scandal of the season when I declined Lord Joellin's proposal! Wealth and rank were mine for the taking, and I chose love instead. My mother wept and my sisters all sighed and my brother toasted my good choice. Lion bless my poor father. He wanted to be angry, but he knew Peridan and knew his worth and even though I spoiled his plans for an alliance, he truly wanted me to be happy. And so I am, King Peter - the happiest, most fortunate of women. Do you want to know why?"

"Please."

"Because I am content. My children are healthy. My lord husband is strong and brave. Our wants are met and we are secure in our new home. I ask nothing more."

I thought of what Edmund had said when he quoted Tover, and I mentally contrasted Saera with Aneles. Would the duchess ever stop asking for more?

"Since she became a widow seven years ago, Aneles has stood out in society. It's very difficult for a woman of such high rank to remain unwed and still maintain her lands and authority. She is intelligent, clever, and ambitious, and has refused numerous suitors. To marry, she would relinquish her authority, and I doubt she would consent to do so on any terms but her own. She views me and mine as common folk now, not worth her time, and I have no doubt it rankles her sensitivities that my family should be so close to yours, and held in such high esteem."

"But we owe your family so much."

"There's more to it. You see, when we were young, Aneles had eyes only for Lord Joellin, who had eyes only for me. When I announced that I would wed only Peridan, Joellin was in no way bitter, but was one of the few who supported my choice. He charged Peridan with my happiness, always."

"He sounds a very noble man."

"He is. What's more, King Peter, Aneles and Dean only ever produced a daughter. In Archenland, sons alone can inherit property. So all of Chlanda-on-Wye will go to whomever Anelata marries, and the title of duke and duchess will pass on, leaving Aneles a dowager. I doubt such a fate rests well with her, and that she will find a means to keep all she has gained, if not a means to gain more."

I remembered the tea party and Aneles' bold look. Was Saera trying to put me on my guard? What would Edmund say to this snippet of information?

"Anelata joined me for a walk earlier this week so that she could meet Ricanus," I explained, seeing my opening. "It was all very pleasant until we met Captain Xati. Xati was in no way impolite, but Anelata reacted very strongly and was out of sorts for the rest of the walk. Something upset her deeply. I thought to make amends by taking her to the Eastern Garden today, but she declined. I don't know if somehow I insulted her or alarmed her."

"I can almost promise you, King Peter, that meeting the captain was the first time Lady Anelata ever met a woman so plainly with child, and so unashamed as to be seen. In Archenland, especially amongst the nobility, a well-bred lady hides her condition for as long as she's able, and then goes into confinement. The older women know, but don't speak of it, and the younger children are sheltered from such knowledge."

I thought of the three Crowned Crane eggs who were to be my godchildren, and the happy birth of the Fox kits, and even the anticipation of being an older brother again when Edmund and especially Lucy had been born. The excitement was unlike any other sort of waiting that I knew, and I would not have traded that sort of anticipation for anything.

It seemed to me a very sad thing that any aspect of Aslan's creation should be hidden for any reason. "Are they hiding from life?" I abruptly wondered, then realized I had spoken aloud.

Lady Saera looked thoughtful, and then she nodded. "Sometimes, King Peter, I think that yes, they are."