Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia, all characters, places, and related terms belong to C.S. Lewis.

Author's Note: Digory is 16, Polly 15.

Is the Play the Thing?

The silence in the sanctuary seemed almost sacred after the bustling about that had occurred during practice, which had ended a short while ago. Nearly everyone had swiftly left; it was another late evening. Some of the women who were part of the church sewing bee had taken all the costumes downstairs and would put the finishing touches on them in the morning. And the scenery for the pantomime – small houses and tall palace pillars from biblical times – had been put up earlier. In three days the young people would present the story of Queen Esther to the congregation.

Slowly, wearily, Polly Plummer opened her eyes and stared thoughtfully at the set from the front pew, her head tilting to one side. Her gaze then wandered around the empty sanctuary before coming to rest on the crown of paper and gold paint lying on her lap. Her fingers danced over each point, and she swallowed nervously.

She was supposed to just be one of handmaidens, not suddenly step in to fill the role of Esther when her friend Libby Heywood suddenly fell ill.

Polly bit her bottom lip, continuing to play with the crown. She had enjoyed being a handmaiden –silent, part of the background. But now to have to play the girl who had been made queen and petitioned for the lives of her people, the Jews… Hundreds of butterflies erupted in the girl's stomach. Why had Miss Summerson chosen her to take Libby's place? Why not Charlotte Gibson? Polly had had trouble remembering all her lines at practice. And she was uncertain just how she was supposed to act the part. How was Esther to view King Xerxes? Was she scared of him? Awed, perhaps? The scenes between the two had been very awkward – at least for Polly. It had not helped—

"I am sorry for taking so long. Miss Summerson first caught me, and then Billy."

Her train of thought broken, Polly looked up at Digory Kirke. In London visiting her family for some weeks, he had been persuaded to take part in the pantomime. She would now play Esther to his Xerxes. The color mounted a little in her cheeks, and she ducked her head.

"It is all right," she assured (as always after every practice) putting the crown on the pew and standing. Suddenly she felt drained, very tired from the nerves and uncertainty that had been hanging over her all of rehearsal. She briefly rubbed her eyes. Hopefully, Mother would have some tea and scones waiting when she and Digory arrived home. And then to crawl into bed…

"Polly?"

Shaking her head, the girl met her friend's questioning gaze. "I'm sorry. It has been a long evening. What did you say?"

Frowning slightly, the boy shook his head and wordlessly led the way out of the sanctuary, through the foyer, and outside.

Surrounded by the cool twilight air, Polly breathed in deeply, and she began to relax, listening to her shoes against the cobblestones. Squinting, she was able to make out stars scattered across the sky.

"You did a jolly well job," Digory broke the long silence first.

She glanced over at him in surprise. "Truly? I did not…" Digory looked at her. "I messed up on some of my lines."

He waved away her concern. "It was not terrible. You have not had a long time to memorize them." He thought for a moment. "Though one thing you could try to do is not look down at ground whenever you and I have a scene," he added.

"I-I-I confess I am not sure what to do."

"What do you mean?"

"How am I to act during those scenes? Is Esther comfortable in the king's presence? Or uneasy? Is she to know him well or only a little?" the questions tumbled over each other.

"How do you wish her to see him?" Digory probed.

Polly felt her cheeks heat up. Purposely ignoring the question, she continued on, "And what does he think of her?"

"He is pleased with her. The Bible says of all the other girls he was most taken with her," he said, starting to feel like a professor re-teaching a lesson.

"I know that. But it is so confusing knowing how to act besides being afraid," Polly sighed.

Digory was quiet for a while as they walked. "Perhaps she would know if she had the courage to look at her king," he at last spoke in a low voice.

Why could she not stop blushing tonight? Polly clasped her hands tightly together. "It is not easy," she replied, her tone quiet.

"Why?"

"I do not know! I do not know how to pretend to be a beautiful, brave queen. Or how to feel towards you, I mean King Xerxes. What he—"

She forgot what else she meant to say when suddenly Digory grasped one of her hands and stopped himself and Polly under a gas lamp.

"Stop, Polly, stop." Annoyance was in his voice and face. "Act as you wish, how you think Esther might have in the situation. We can never know just how she really felt being Xerxes' queen."

He steadily held her gaze. He went on, "She was pretty, brave, faithful. She may have been kind, gentle, and supportive. Esther might have given comfort and encouragement to the king when he was weary or disheartened. Remember he was the ruler of a vast empire, suffered a great and embarrassing loss to the Greeks, and struggled to preserve his throne. I think Xerxes cared very much for his queen."

Digory eyes were flashing, and Polly's wide with wonder. The two gazed at one another for a long, silent, still moment.

"Come on; your parents may be starting to wonder about us." And the boy resumed walking.

Polly struggled to match his brisk pace. Furrowing her forehead, she digested what he had said. How had he come to think the marriage between King Xerxes and Queen Esther had been happy? Nothing in the Bible provided any hint of how they felt towards each other. Why then…

In the process of looking towards her feet, she discovered her hand had not yet been released by Digory.

She looked forward once more, and butterflies were born anew. Biting her lip, she still could not keep the smile from forming. Perhaps he had not been talking only about Esther and Xerxes…

THE END