Chapter One

POV: Martin

"You must understand that knighthoods are not given for the asking."

When my ship docked the sky was overcast, and by the time my horse Arod and I had disembarked, a drizzling rain had begun to fall.

"Well old boy, we've had worse."

Arod whinnied merrily and we began to weave our way through the mass of merchants, travelers, and talking beasts that were shuffling about the quay. By the time we reached the main road, the skies had begun to empty themselves on the poor mortals below. I tugged my cloak tighter about me; it wouldn't do to appear before the rulers of Narnia soaking wet.

About three-tenths of a mile from the docks the road branched off; if I continued forward, I'd go North toward Beaver's Dam and Lantern Waste. To the right was the magnificent capital of Narnia: Cair Paravel. Even in the rain the great palace seemed to shine with the hope Narnia's rulers had given back to them. Fauns and satyrs patrolled the wall, which was fifty feet high if it was a single inch. Over the great gates two flags – both a Lion Rampant, one silver on a crimson field, the other bright yellow on a sky blue field. Though there were four flagpoles, two of them were bare, for the King Peter was off to the North, fighting the giants who harried his kingdom, and the Queen Susan had not yet returned from her yearly visit to King Lune's court.

I rode into the courtyard, (the gates were never closed during the day) dismounted, and led Arod to the visitors' stables. From

there I made for the castle keep, and was greeted at the door by a bulldog who sniffed my boots curiously.

"You're not from Narnia, are you? You smell of the ocean."

I grinned and raised an eyebrow.

"Narnians never smell of the sea?"

The dog snorted, as if to say, "I wasn't born yesterday."

"Your boots smell of different soil."

I laughed at that.

"Right you are, my friend. I am from Terebinthia, and I bear a letter from Lord Maturin for their Majesties.

"Do you indeed?"

I drew the letter forth from my jerkin and showed it to him.

"That is his lordship's seal. Leave your sword on the rack by the door."

As I unbuckled my sword-belt I remarked,

"You're well informed for a guard."

He grunted at that.

"Is that because guards are ill-informed? Or are dogs merely stupid?"

I was rather taken aback at the question. Fortunately, a kind voice sounded down the passageway and out the door,

"The lad meant no harm, Robert. He was complimenting you on your thoroughness."

At this the man stopped in the doorway and smiled. He was in his late thirties or early forties, and his beard was touched ever so lightly by streaks of grey.

"Lord Peridan?"

"In the flesh."

I had met the Archenlander four years before at a great tourney in Terebinthia. He had been Sir Peridan then, and a member of King Lune's bodyguard.

"I had heard you came to Narnia. Congratulations on your title."

"The Four are most gracious to those who serve them well."

Here the bulldog interjected:

"Especially to those who save the life of Narnia's General."

I raised a querying eyebrow and Peridan waved it off.

"'Tis a long story. Come, let me take you to the throne room."

We walked on down the hallway and thence through many bustling, tapestried corridors.

"Here we are," he said as we came to an ornate door with a dryad standing by it. Peridan nodded at me.

"This man has come from Terebinthia with a message from Lord Maturin. He seeks audience with the King and Queen."

She smiled warmly and disappeared inside. Turning to me, Peridan asked,

"So what is this message of yours?"

"Nothing of importance, I-"

Here the dryad returned.

"Your name, sir? So the chamberlain may announce you properly?"

"Martin."

She nodded and re-entered the throne room.

"Nothing of any importance?" Peridan asked.

"Well, not on any great scale. I merely wished to inquire-"

The dryad returned again.

"Their Majesties will see you now."

Peridan patted my shoulder and followed us into the throne room, slipping quietly into the crowd of courtiers which was gathered on either side of the room. The dryad led me to the chamberlain -a hyena of all creatures- who said loudly,

"Martin of Terebinthia, who bears a message from Lord Maturin."

He then looked to me and flicked his eyes toward the end of the room, where four thrones sat on a high dais. Behind them was an enormous window made of stained glass. As I strode forward I glanced from the two empty thrones – the middle ones- to the throne on each end. They were made of marble, decorated with gold, and on the seats were purple cushions trimmed in gold thread. Each of the thrones bore a symbol on the top – the High King's his sword, Rhindon, the Gentle Queen's her magic horn, Queen Lucy's her healing cordial, and King Edmund's showed his sword shattering the White Witch's wand.

To my left sat the Just King. He wore a frock coat, trousers, and boots. All were black, and the frock coat was trimmed in gold. His hair was as black as the clothes he wore, his face clean-shaven, and his brown eyes seemed to pierce right through me. His voice, once he spoke, would be deep, even and calm.

To my right was the Valiant Queen. She was often called "Narnia's Song," and the title was appropriate. As I knelt before them both she smiled a smile which shone as brightly as a star, her blue eyes twinkling merrily, golden hair streaming down her shoulders. When she spoke, her tone was a welcoming, jovial one.

"You have a message for us?"

The question came from the King.

"Indeed, your majesty."

I rose and handed him the document. His eyebrows rose as he read it.

"Lord Maturin sends us his greetings, sister."

She glanced at me.

"Is that all? If so, this messenger has had a long journey for little reason."

The King continued:

"He also says that he very much regrets to lose his favourite bodyguard, and the best swordsman in Terebinthia-"

"High praise indeed," the Queen interjected.

"-and he humbly requests that we would make him a knight in our service."