CHAPTER TEN
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THE HERMIT OF THE SOUTHERN MARCH AFTER they had ridden for several hours down the valley, it widened out and they could see what was ahead of them. The river which they had been following here joined a broader river, wide and turbulent, which flowed from their left to their right, towards the east. Beyond this new river a delightful try rose gently in low hills, ridge beye, to the Northern Mountains themselves. To the right there were rocky pinnacles, one or two of them with snow ging to the ledges. To the left, pine-clad slopes, frowning cliffs, narrow ges, and blue peaks stretched away as far as the eye could reach. He could no longer make out Mount Pire. Straight ahead the mountain range sank to a wooded saddle which of course must be the pass from Arland into Narnia."Broo-hoo-hoo, the North, the green North!" neighed Bree: aainly the lower hills looked greener and fresher than anything that Aravis and Shasta, with their southern-bred eyes, had ever imagined. Spirits rose as they clattered down to the waters-meet of the two rivers.
The eastern-flowing river, which from the higher mountains at the western end of the range, was far too swift and too broken with rapids for them to think of swimming it; but after some casting about, up and down the bank, they found a place shallow enough to wade. The roar and clatter of water, the great swirl against the horses fetlocks, the cool, stirring air and the darting dragon-flies, filled Shasta with a straement.
"Friends, we are in Arland!" said Bree proudly as he splashed and ed his way out on the Northern bank. "I think that river weve just crossed is called the Winding Arrow.”
"I hope were in time," murmured Hwin.
Then they began going up, slowly and zigzagging a good deal, for the hills were steep. It was all open park-like try with no roads or houses in sight. Scattered trees, hiough to be a forest, were everywhere. Shasta, who had lived all his life in an almost tree-less grassland, had never seen so many or so many kinds. If you had been there you would probably have known (he didnt) that he was seeing oaks, beeches, silver birches, rowans, and sweet chestnuts. Rabbits scurried away in every dire as they advanced, and presently they saw a whole <tt>.t>herd of fallow deer making off among the trees.
"Isnt it simply glorious!" said Aravis.
At the first ridge Shasta turned in the saddle and looked back. There was no sign of Tashbaan; t<bdo>9９lｉｂ?</bdo>he desert, unbroken except by the narrow green crack which they had travelled down, spread to the horizon.
"Hullo!" he said suddenly. "Whats that!”
"Whats what?" said Bree, turning round. Hwin and Aravis did the same.
"That," said Shasta, pointing. "It looks like smoke. Is it a fire?”
"Sand-storm, I should say," said Bree.
"Not much wind to raise it," said Aravis.
"Oh!" exclaimed Hwin. "Look! There are things flashing in it. Look! Theyre helmets - and armour. And its moving: moving this way.”
"By Tash!" said Aravis. "Its the army. Its Rabadash.”
"Oh course it is," said Hwin. "Just what I was afraid of. Quick! We must get to Anvard before it." And without another word she whisked round and began galloping North. Bree tossed his head and did the same.
"e on, Bree, e on," yelled Aravis over her shoulder.
The race was very gruelling for the Horses. As they topped each ridge they found another valley and another ridge beyond it; and though they khey were going in more or less the right dire, no one knew how far it was to Anvard. From the top of the sed ridge Shasta looked back again. Instead of a dust-cloud well out in the desert he now saw a black, moving mass, rather like ants, on the far bank of the Winding Arrow. They were doubtless looking for a ford.
"Theyre on the river!" he yelled wildly.
"Quick! Quick!" shouted Aravis. "We might as well not have e at all if we dont reavard in time. Gallop, Bree, gallop. Remember youre a war-horse.”
It was all Shasta could do to prevent himself from shouting out similar instrus; but he thought, "The poor chaps doing all he already," and held his tongue. Aainly both Horses were doing, if not all they could, all they thought they could; which is not quite the same thing. Bree had caught up with Hwin and they thundered side by side over the turf. It didnt look as if Hwin could possibly keep it up much longer.
At that moment everyones feelings were pletely altered by a sound from behind. It was not the sound they had been expeg to hear - the noise of hoofs and jingling armour, mixed, perhaps, with etle-cries. Yet Shasta k at o was the same snarling roar he had heard that moonlit night when they first met Aravis and Hwin. Bree k too. His eyes gleamed red and his ears lay flat ba his skull. And Bree now discovered that he had not really been going as fast - not quite as fast - as he could. Shasta felt the ge at onow they were really going all out. In a few seds they were well ahead of Hwin.
"Its not fair," thought Shasta. "I did think wed be safe from lions here!”
He looked over his shoulder. Everything was only too clear. A huge tawny creature, its body low to the ground, like a cat streaking across the lawn to a tree when a strange dog has got into the garden, was behind them. And it was nearer every sed and half sed.
He looked fain and saw something which he did not take in, or even think about. Their way was barred by a smooth green wall about te high. In the middle of that wall there was a gate, open. In the middle of the gateway stood a tall man dressed, down to his bare feet, in a robe coloured like autumn leaves, leaning on a straight staff.
His beard fell almost to his knees.
Shasta saw all this in a gland looked back again. The lion had almost got Hwin now.
It was making snaps at her hind legs, and there was no hope now in her foamflecked, wide-eyed face.
"Stop," bellowed Shasta in Brees ear. "Must go back. Must help!”
Bree always said afterwards that he never heard, or never uood this; and as he was in general a very truthful horse we must accept his word.
Shasta slipped his feet out of the stirrups, slid both his legs over the left side, hesitated for one hideous huh of a sed, and jumped. It hurt horribly and nearly winded him; but before he knew how it hurt him he was staggering back to help Aravis. He had never done anything like this in his life before and hardly knew why he was doing it now.
One of the most terrible noises in the world, a horses scream, broke from Hwins lips.
Aravis was stooping low over Hwins ned seemed to be trying to draw her sword.
And now all three - Aravis, Hwin, and the lion were almost on top of Shasta. Before they reached him the lion rose on its hind legs, larger than you would have believed a lion could be, and jabbed at Aravis with its right paw. Shasta could see all the terrible claws extended. Aravis screamed and reeled in the saddle. The lion was tearing her shoulders.
Shasta, half mad with horror, mao lurch towards the brute. He had no on, not even a stick or a stone. He shouted out, idiotically, at the lion as one would at a dog. "Go home! Go home!" For a fra of a sed he was staring right into its wideopened,
raging mouth. Then, to his utter astonishment, the lion, still on its hind legs, checked itself suddenly, turned head over heels, picked itself up, and rushed away.
Shasta did not for a moment suppose it had gone food. He turned and raced for the gate in the green wall whiow for the first time, he remembered seeing. Hwin, stumbling and nearly fainting, was just entering the gate: Aravis still kept her seat but her back was covered with blood.
"e in, my daughter, e in," the robed and bearded man was saying, and then "e in, my son" as Shasta panted up to him. He heard the gate closed behind him; and the bearded stranger was already helping Aravis off her horse.
They were in a wide and perfectly circular enclosure, protected by a high wall of green turf. A pool of perfectly still water, so full that the water was almost exactly level with the ground, lay before him. At one end of the pool, pletely overshadowing it with its brahere grew the hugest and most beautiful tree that Sh<samp>..</samp>asta had ever seen. Beyond the pool was a little low house of stone roofed with deep and a thatch. There was a sound of bleating and over at the far side of the enclosure there were some goats. The level ground was pletely covered with the fi grass.
"Are - are - are you," panted Shasta. "Are you King Lune of Arland?”
The old man shook his head. "No," he replied in a quiet voice, "I am the Hermit of the Southern March. And now, my son, waste no time oions, but obey. This damsel is wounded. Your horses are spent. Rabadash is at this moment finding a ford over the Winding Arrow. If you run now, without a moments rest, you will still be in time to warn King Lune.”
Shastas heart fai these words for he felt he had nth left. And he writhed i what seemed the cruelty and unfairness of the demand. He had not yet learhat if you do one good deed your reward usually is to be set to do another and harder aer one. But all he said out loud was: "Where is the King?”
The Hermit turned and pointed with his staff. "Look," he said. "There is anate, right opposite to the one you entered by. Open it and ght ahead: always straight ahead, over level or steep, over smooth h, over dry or wet. I know by my art that you will find King Luraight ahead. But run, run: always run.”
Shasta nodded his head, ran to the northern gate and disappeared beyond it. Then the Hermit took Aravis, whom he had all this time been supp with his left arm, and half led, half carried her into the house. After a long time he came out again.
"Now, cousins," he said to the Horses. "It is your turn.”
Without waiting for an answer - and ihey were too exhausted to speak - he took the bridles and saddles off both of them. Then he rubbed them both down, so well that a groom in a Kings stable could not have do better.
"There, cousins," he said, "dismiss it all from your minds and be forted. Here is water and there is grass. You shall have a hot mash when I have milked my other cousins, the goats.”
"Sir," said Hwin, finding her voice at last, "will the Tarkheena live? Has the lion killed her?”
"I who knoresent things by my art," replied the Hermit with a smile, "have yet little knowledge of things future. Therefore I do not know whether any man or woman or beast in the whole world will be alive when the suonight. But be of good hope.
The damsel is likely to live as long as any of her age.”
When Aravis came to herself she found that she was lying on her fa a low bed of extraordinary softness in a cool, bare room with walls of undressed stone. She couldnt uand why she had been laid on her face; but wheried to turn ahe hot, burning pains all over her back, she remembered, and realized why. She couldnt uand what delightfully springy stuff the bed was made of, because it was made of heather (which is the best bedding) aher was a thing she had never seen or heard of.
The door opened and the Hermit entered, carrying a large wooden bowl in his hand. After carefully setting this down, he came to the bedside, and asked: "How do you find yourself, my daughter?”
"My back is very sore, father," said Aravis, "but there is nothing else wrong with me.”
He k beside her, laid his hand on her forehead, a her pulse.
"There is no fever," he said. "You will do well. Ihere is no reason why you should not get up tomorrow. But now, drink this.”
He fetched the wooden bowl and held it to her lips. Aravis couldnt help making a face wheasted it, foats milk is rather a shock when you are not used to it. But she was very thirsty and mao drink it all a better when she had finished.
"Now, my daughter, you may sleep when you wish," said the Hermit. "For your wounds are washed and dressed and though they smart they are no more serious than if they had bees of a whip. It must have been a very strange lion; for instead-of catg you out of the saddle aing his teeth into you, he has only drawn his claws across your back. Ten scratches: sore, but not deep or dangerous.”
"I say!" said Aravis. "I have had luck.”
"Daughter," said the Hermit, "I have now lived a hundred and nine winters in this world and have never yet met any such thing as Luck. Them is something about all this that I do not uand: but if ever we o know it, you may be sure that we shall.”
"And what about Rabadash and his two hundred horse?" asked Aravis.
"They will not pass this way, I think," said the Hermit. "They must have found a ford by now well to the east of us. From there they will try to ride straight to Anvard.”
"Poor Shasta!" said Aravis. "Has he far to go? Will he get there first?”
"There is good hope of it," said the old man.
Aravis lay down again (on her side this time) and said, "Have I been asleep for a long time? It seems to be getting dark.”
The Hermit was looking out of the only window, which faorth. "This is not the darkness of night," he said presently. "The clouds are falling down from Stormness Head.
Our foul weather always es from there in these parts. There will be thick fog tonight.”
day, except for her sore back, Aravis felt so well that after breakfast (which e and cream) the Hermit said she could get up. And of course she at once went out to speak to the Horses. The weather had ged and the whole of that green enclosure was filled, like a great green cup, with sunlight. It was a very peaceful place, lonely and quiet.
Hwin at orotted across to Aravis and gave her a horse-kiss.
"But wheres Bree?" said Aravis when each had asked after the others health and sleep.
"Over there," said Hwin, pointing with her o the far side of the circle. "And I wish youd e and talk to him. Theres something wrong, I t get a word out of him.”
They strolled across and found Bree lying with his face towards the wall, and though he must have heard them ing, he urned his head or spoke a word.
"Good m, Bree," said Aravis. "How are you this m?”
Bree muttered something that no one could hear.
"The Hermit says that Shasta probably got to King Lune in time," tinued Aravis, "so it looks as if all our troubles are over. Narnia, at last, Bree!”
"I shall never see Narnia," said Bree in a low voice.
"Arent you well, Bree dear?" said Aravis.
Bree turned round at last, his face mournful as only a horses be.
"I shall go back to en," he said.
"What?" said Aravis. "Back to slavery!”
"Yes," said Bree. "Slavery is all Im fit for. How I ever show my face among the free Horses of Narnia? - I who left a mare and a girl and a boy to be eaten by lions while I galloped all I could to save my owched skin!”
"We all ran as hard as we could," said Hwin.
"Shasta didnt!" snorted Bree. "At least he ran in the right dire: ran back. And that is what shames me most of all. I, who called myself a war-horse and boasted of a hundred fights, to be beaten by a little human boy - a child, a mere foal, who had never held a sword nor had any good nurture or example in his life!”
"I know," said Aravis. "I felt just the same. Shasta was marvellous. Im just as bad as you, Bree. Ive been snubbing him and looking down on him ever sinet us and now he turns out to be the best of us all. But I think it would be better to stay and say were sorry than to go back to en.”
"Its all very well for you," said Bree. "You havent disgraced yourself. But Ive lost everything.”
"My good Horse," said the Hermit, who had approached them unnoticed because his bare feet made so little noise on that sweet, dewy grass. "My good Horse, youve lost nothing but your self-ceit. No, no, cousin. Dont put back your ears and shake your ma me. If you are really so humbled as you sounded a minute ago, you must learn to listen to sense. Youre not quite the great Horse you had e to think, from living among poor dumb horses. Of course you were braver and cleverer than them. You could hardly help being that. It doesnt follow that youll be anyone very special in Narnia. But as long as you know youre nobody special, youll be a very det sort of Horse, on the whole, and taking ohing with another. And now, if you and my other four<s></s>-footed cousin will e round to the kit door well see about the other half of that mash.”
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