"Your Majesty would have a perfect right to strike off his head," said Peridan. "Such an assault as he made puts him on the level of assassins."

"It is very true," said Edmund. "But even a traitor may mend. I have known one that did." And he looked very thoughtful.

The day came when Rabadash, the eldest son of the Tisroc (who had no hope of living forever – not with Rabadash around), came to present himself before the Kings and Queens and expect a favor in return for his generous condescension. The man made Edmund sick. Lucy, good Lucy, who never thought ill of anyone even if they had a knife to her throat, hated the very sight of him. Peter was, regrettably, away at one of the garrisons preparing to fight giants, or he would have felt the same revulsion. But apparently there was something in the man's perfume or looks or manners or boot buckles that made Susan grace him with her smile and accept his offer of courtship.

Peter still being gone to fight the giants, it fell to Edmund to go with Susan to visit her would-be suitor. The man still disgusted him – there was altogether too much charm in that man to be real – but for his sister's sake he would try to hide his dislike.

In Calormen, even Susan could not help but see the man for who he was. But by the time she realized it, they were effectively trapped and Edmund knew that only Mr. Tumnus' plan could save them.

Oh, Aslan, Aslan, Aslan, come and help us now, he had whispered that morning; by nightfall they were on their way home.

He could not help but remember his own treachery when the Stag came to tell them that Rabadash and his 200 horse were attacking Anvard. All of it came flooding back before he could stop himself.

He had not started out to betray his brother and his sister to an enemy like the one Dad was fighting overseas. He didn't mean to start himself on that path. It was in his nature to be rebellious and resentful, but he never thought he would enjoy the journey to pure evilness. But it happened anyway, and he was powerless to stop it - like watching one of the news reels and knowing that the convoy ships had already blown up before the reel began.

His siblings understood, but no one else did. Everyone else comforted him with meaningless words like, "You couldn't help it. She was too strong for you." Or they said something like, "You didn't know what you were doing. You didn't mean for anything bad to happen."

His siblings understood. They knew that he had indeed meant for something bad to happen to them – slavery, torture, endless suffering. They knew that he had wanted to do it. They knew that he could have sought help, but that he had enjoyed the fleeting feeling of power. They forgave him anyway. They loved him anyway.

Aslan understood. He spoke to him gently but firmly, holding nothing back and sparing no feelings. But Aslan forgave him anyway, loved him anyway. That knowledge helped him through that dreadful day – the day that the Witch stood before heaven and earth and proclaimed him her rightful property.

Property.

Such an ugly word, such an ugly concept. But his siblings had forgiven him, and they upheld him through all that horrid day.

The Just. So much in such a little word.

You have been justified. You have been made just. You are to dispense that justice to others. Justice, but tempered with the mercy that I have given you.

"I give you King Edmund, the Just."

He had tried to live up to his name, and, by the grace of Aslan, he had succeeded. He was known far and wide as a grave and quiet man, great in council and judgment.

Blood. Blood everywhere. Here and there, a horse was lying, its neck outstretched, teeth bared, eyes wide. The battle was almost over; here and there there were some individual duels, but the battle itself was won.

In the split second while Rabadash was successfully jumping from the block, shouting some nonsense about a bolt of Tash falling from above, Edmund had the fleeting thought that it would do the fool good to be laughed at occasionally. Before he had even finished the thought, the hook in the castle wall caught the silly man by his hauberk and strung him up, looking for all the world like a scaly fish on display at the fishmongers.

It was something he lay awake at night and pondered: would he really have killed Rabadash, when his enemy was hanging helpless from the castle wall, if Lune had not stopped him? He had answered, "Gladly," to Rabadash's arrogant challenge; would he have stepped over and done it, truly? He had been shown grace himself; was it right to deny anyone, even one so foolish and proud as Rabadash, the right to a fair and just treatment?

He tried to force my sister, Edmund thought, but the uneasy feeling remained.

During dinner, Edmund gave all the appearance of liveliness and vivacity. He was interested in the little prince – the way the child ate reminded him strongly of the early days of his reign – but could not stop thinking all the same.

When Rabadash had been brought forth, spitting curses and hurling insults, all of Edmund's determinations to be kind and generous to the man were severely tested.

"Your Majesty would have a perfect right to strike off his head," said Peridan. "Such an assault as he made puts him on the level of assassins."

"It is very true," said Edmund. "But even a traitor may mend. I have known one that did." And he looked very thoughtful.

In a way, Edmund thought, the punishment that Aslan had meted out was exactly right for Rabadash – just as the talk he had had with Edmund as a child had been exactly right for him. But Edmund could not stop grinning, all the same, at the thought of Rabadash's upcoming transformation from donkey to man. For a moment he seriously considered returning to Tashbaan, just to see it.

The End