The Greater Fool

There hadn't been much use for Fort Cortez's gaol up until now.

There hadn't been much use for the fort, period. The fort had been established during the reign of Caspian II, when portions of the land were still untamed. Every so often, one of the creatures of old might slink out from the shadows and stir up some trouble. During the reign of Caspian V, as the realm had dealt with rebellion, the gaol of the fort had housed some of the agitators while they had tongues to speak with, after which their neck would find itself at the end of the executioner's axe. Four generations since then, Fort Cortez had been left to rot. Four generations of peace, to the point where the fort didn't even have a permanent gaoler.

But that was then. This was now the reign of Miraz I, long may he reign. This was a point in history where the line of Caspian had come to an end, with the king's brother and his wife meeting an untimely end, and the king's nephew leading a rebellion against his uncle with the aid of the savages that still roamed the woods and moors of this land. Making his way up into the guard room, Ferdinand reflected that it was strange that the prince had left his uncle's side after the birth of his son, for by the laws set by Caspian III, the firstborn son of the prior king had divine right to inherit the throne, even if a regent were to step in in the event of the king's death before the son came of age. Caspian X had every right to the throne, yet he'd fled at the first sight of a possible challenger.

Ferdinand didn't understand it, and rumours concerning Miraz and his nephew were words that he turned his ears away from. He was here now in a rundown fort that was being tended to by drafted men such as himself, and prisoners taken from the field. He'd spent six hours standing on duty, watching men enjoy themselves too much at the sight of their enemies in misery. He'd spent another hour on wall duty as the prisoners were led into the gaol. Now, finally, with the changing of the guard, he just had to sign his name in the guardhouse and retire for the evening. Simple.

He'd come to reflect in a few minutes time that he shouldn't have expected such simplicity. Once, his life had been simple, until men had come to his village, told him that he was expected to serve in the king's army, and if he didn't like that, tough. They'd talked of rebellion, of threats to the realm, of the duty of every man to serve as sword and shield. He'd told them no. Then the talk had become threats, directed at his wife and daughter, and he'd begun to notice just how sharp the swords of those men were. So he'd relented. He'd said goodbyes, wiped away tears, kissed those who might never see him again, and departed into the southern lands. The wild lands. Some of the men had laughed and boasted of what their ancestors had failed to finish. Ferdinand had remained silent and just hoped it would all be over soon.

Life at Fort Cortez wasn't simple. He stepped into the guard house and signed his name on the parchment on the lectern. He couldn't read, but the king's army had taught him how to write his name at least, and the people who could read would be able to ascertain that he'd served his time. In case he was lying of course, but then…he sighed, and cast his gaze over the room. Lies and truths were blurring these days. Blurring even more as he remembered the past, of "truths' imparted to him. If any of the other men in the guardhouse were bothered though, they didn't show it. Three were playing a game of cards in the corner. One of them, Sebastian, was writing on a piece of parchment that Ferdinand knew had nothing to do with assigned shifts. Beside it was a small bag.

"Ferdinand." Sebastian looked up at him. "Off for the night?"

He nodded.

"Good man." He reached into the bag and took out an apple. Ferdinand's eyes lit up and reached out to take it but-

"Give this to the horse."

Ferdinand blinked. "The horse?"

"The horse."

"Which horse? The stable's got at least ten horses in it."

"And those horses have been fed. I'm referring to the horse in the gaol."

Ferdinand frowned. "My shift is over."

"Good for you. But the horse still needs feeding." He scoffed. "Talking horses, can you believe it? I mean, I can at least get the goat people, what with their mouths being like ours, but-"

"You're on duty," Ferdinand said. "You're the gaoler. You do it."

Sebastian's eyes narrowed. "Are you disobeying me?"

"No. I'm just saying-"

"Here's how this is going to work Ferdinand," Sebastian snapped, rising to his feet, the apple still in his hands. "Either you go down and give the horse an apple, or I shove this apple down your throat and-"

"Fine," Ferdinand said, taking the apple from his former friend's hands. "I'll do your damn job."

Sebastian smirked, patting Ferdinand on the shoulder. "Good lad," he said.

Ferdinand scowled as he watched Sebastian sit down again and return to writing. They'd been friends once, but circumstance had now made them worlds apart. Sebastian had been the town gaoler. Now he was the fort's gaoler. Sebastian was a few years his senior, and most importantly of all, Sebastian could read and write. Many were the night when Ferdinand had seen him writing a letter to his wife. Sebastian had promised that he'd help Ferdinand with writing as well, but so far, that hadn't happened.

He might have been able to forgive him, if Sebastian didn't seem to enjoy his new position so damn much.

Simple, he thought to himself as he walked back out of the guardhouse. This was meant to be simple.

No help from the cunts at the table, he reflected. No help from anyone. Up on the wall, he could see men lighting torches. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Frowning, praying that this would be done before the rain hit, he reached the entrance to the goal. A bored looking soldier stood on guard.

"I'm here to feed the-"

The guard grunted, nodding at the door.

"It's open?" Ferdinand asked.

The guard grunted, and Ferdinand opened it, peering into the gloom.

"How'd you get a horse in here anyway?"

The guard grunted.

"You know, I'm not meant to be on duty right now and-"

The guard glared at him.

"Fine," Ferdinand said, raising his hands in defeat. "Fine." He walked into the gaol. Jackass.

He took that back – asses were good on the wagon train that had sent the two dozen men to the fort here. Rumours abounded as to where the majority of Miraz's army was, or if there could be said to be any majority at all. There were even rumours that he'd diverted soldiers from the border with Archenland to deal with the insurgency.

And all to fight these creatures, Ferdinand reflected as he walked through the gaol, looking inside the cells. How did it come to this? Ten generations we had to make peace, and now we're looking at a second war.

A war that the Telmarines were winning at least. He knew it, and looking at the sorry creatures, they knew it as well.

Most of them were "goat people," to borrow the term used by Sebastian. Creatures with the legs of a goat and the upper body of a man (or in a few cases, the other way round). He knew that the true term was "fawn" or "satyr," but he couldn't be sure. Whatever the case, these creatures often made up the bulk of the Old Narnians' forces, and in many ways, they were the most deadly. With their hands, they could use sword, shield, bow, and spear as aptly as any Telmarine. Even their armour was approaching the quality of that in the king's army, as rumours abounded that dwarfs were providing them with the steel that coated them, whereas at the start of the insurgency, it had been leather. But whatever the skills of "goat people," the ones in the cells now had been captured. They just sat there in silence. Some looked up at him, glaring with the fire of one who knew their enemy.

But none of them spoke. Not one of them.

Sooner I'm out of here…

There were others in the cells. A few dwarfs on one, the ones with red beards on one side of the cell, the ones with black on the other. And scattered throughout the few that remained were animals of all shapes and sizes – foxes. Badgers. Otters. A bear. It seemed absurd to Ferdinand to keep them in cells at all, but the orders were clear – the animals were intelligent. The animals could kill you. The animals would be treated as prisoners until they received orders to the contrary. Execution or interrogation, Ferdinand couldn't say. Only that one could come after the other of course.

And at the back of the gaol was the horse. No cell for this creature, just a rope around its neck tied to a pole in the ground. It was sitting down in the same silence as all the other Old Narnians. Seeing it now, Ferdinand again marvelled as to how they'd got it in here at all. He figured it might have been able to squeeze through the door, but it wouldn't have been a comfortable entry. But then, what did comfort mean to the enemies of Narnia? He approached the creature and stopped. It didn't look at him.

"Um, hello," he said.

The horse remained silent.

"I have dinner."

The horse remained silent, even as Ferdinand held out the apple. He might have seen its right eye shift to look at the thing, but in this poor light, he couldn't be sure.

"It's an apple," he said. "You may be a prisoner, but you still get to eat."

The horse didn't say anything.

"Look, I know you're a talking horse," Ferdinand said. "And I'm guessing you're not deaf. And since by the grace of fate we apparently speak the same language…" He sighed. "Look, would you just eat the damn apple?"

The horse remained silent.

"Damn you, you should be with the other dumb beasts that-"

"There's only one dumb beast in this gaol," the horse said, shifting its head upward to meet Ferdinand's gaze. "And I'm talking to it right now."

A stab of anger rushed through Ferdinand, but he managed to keep it in check. "So you do talk," he said.

"An astute observation."

"So just eat the damn apple so I can get some sleep." He held it out in an open palm – talking horse or not, he knew the rules of feeding such creatures.

The horse snorted.

"It's not poisonous," he said.

"Oh, I know. I'm just wondering why I should eat it when by drawing this out, I get to deprive you of sleep."

"You…" Ferdinand took a moment to compose himself. "You think you'll get victory through sleep deprivation?"

"No. But I think you're an idiot."

"What?"

"If you were smart," the horse said, getting to his feet. "You'd have just thrown the apple away as soon as you were out of sight, or better yet, eat it yourself. Instead you come down here and get me to eat it."

"I…that would be…"

"Not only an idiot, but a simpleton as well. And yes, man of Telmar, there is a difference."

Ferdinand just stood there. He kept standing there even as the horse plucked the apple from his hand and began to chew.

"Hmm," the horse said in-between mouthfuls. "If this is to be my last meal in this world…" He swallowed. "Well, never mind." He looked at Ferdinand. "Are you still here simpleton?"

"I'm the one who fed you when I could have looked the other way."

"So am I to thank you for your stupidity?" The horse snorted. "Spare me, and…what?"

"What?"

"What are you looking at?"

"I'm not-"

"You're staring at my mouth like you've never seen a horse talk before."

"Because I…haven't."

The horse snorted again. "Oh, I'm sure you have. If you ever visited the stables of your king's castle, you would have seen me."

"You…you were in the castle?"

The horse turned away.

"This whole time?"

"Yes, simpleton, this whole time, much to my shame." The horse glanced back at Ferdinand. "Some of us run wild in the lands that were ours since the Dawn of Time. Others, like myself, hide among the dumb beasts you brought with you from the west." He snorted again. "Not the worst of company, but one yearns for conversation with more intelligent beings."

Ferdinand opened his mouth.

"You, Son of Adam, are not intelligent. Or at least the stablemaster wasn't, who spoke and never noticed my ears prick up. Tales of a gathering in the south, of a prince come to lead us like the kings and queens of old. A simple task it was to escape the stable and pledge myself to his banner."

"And how'd that work out for you?" Ferdinand murmured.

"Well enough," the horse said. "I, who have borne many one of you brutes on my back, was happy to carry a fawn into battle before…what?"

"What?"

"You're smiling, simpleton."

"Oh, it's just…" Ferdinand was indeed smiling, and the smile became even wider. "I've just realized that you've given me quite a bit of information that I could pass on to my fellow, ahem, idiots."

"What?"

"Horses in stables. Spies. You've told me quite a bit."

There was something in the horse's eyes that Ferdinand could just about make out. Fear, he wondered?

"Tell them what you will, simpleton." He sat down on the floor again. "You aren't the first usurper to come to this land, and you won't be the last."

Ferdinand frowned. "I didn't usurp anything."

"Be that as it may, you carry the blood of those who did. And one way or another, this war will end with the blood of one of us feeding the earth."

"Or…there might be a third option," said Ferdinand slowly.

The horse looked at him then began to laugh, the sound sending chills down his spine. Not because the sound of a horse laughing sounded different from a human. Rather, because it sounded exactly like a human.

"A simpleton, an idiot, and now a fool," the horse laughed. "Well, what of it? Perhaps I was the fool in believing that a son of Adam, no matter how noble, could lead us to victory. Still, if I am to die a fool, I can do so knowing that I drew blood from the neck of Telmar." The laugher ceased, and the horse's voice returned to normal. "Well, you've fed me human, and in that, our business is concluded. Now begone, before my hooves find your backside."

Ferdinand remained quiet.

"Are you deaf as well as demented, son of Adam? I bid you, be gone. Or do you not know how to ride a horse?"

"I know how to ride a horse," Ferdinand murmured. "I just never got the privilege."

Something different flickered in the horse's eyes. "Then, however small, you have my sympathy. I may never know the joy of climbing a tree, but to not know the joy of hearing hooves upon the leaves, of galloping against the wind…" It sighed. "Perhaps in a better world we may have both known joy, but alas, those who lived and died long before either of us have made such a thing impossible."

"Maybe it still is."

"Maybe. And maybe you feeding me is a sign of kindness rather than idiocy, but alas, the foolish dreams of this horse can only extend so far. Now begone – my tongue is tired, and my hooves ache."

Ferdinand said nothing. The horse couldn't know it, but he was remembering a tune his mother had told him, before fever had taken her - a rhyme that said that a horse was a horse, unless the horse could talk. Standing here now, he wondered why such words had ever been written. For this horse of wit and tongue…how was it less a horse than that which a Telmarine might ride?

He nevertheless headed out of the gaol. Left to wonder about those words. Whether they had been written for a purpose beyond the reason of simple rhyme.

Left to wonder who, among them, was the greater fool.

A/N

So, little question - three years pass between the events of Prince Caspian and Voyage of the Dawn Treader. As to the relationship between Narnians and Telmarines, Caspian says "it couldn't be better" (hence why he's able to leave). I mean, sure - all it takes is three years to overcome centuries of distrust and oppression. I mean, can we get Caspian in our world to sort out all our own prejudices? I mean, who'd have thought it would only take three years to overcome what we've failed to do in centuries?

I jest (kind of), but anyway, drabbled this up.

Also, yes, obligatory reference to Mr. Ed.