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THE SPELL BEGINS TO BREAK:
Now we must go back to Mr and Mrs Beaver and the three other children. As
soon as Mr Beaver said, "There's no time to lose," everyone began bundling
themselves into coats, except Mrs Beaver, who started picking up sacks and
laying them on the table and said: "Now, Mr Beaver, just reach down that ham.
And here's a packet of tea, and there's sugar, and some matches. And if someone
will get two or three loaves out of the crock over there in the corner."
"What are you doing, Mrs Beaver?" exclaimed Susan.
"Packing a load for each of us, dearie," said Mrs Beaver very coolly. "You
didn't think we'd set out on a journey with nothing to eat, did you?"
"But we haven't time!" said Susan, buttoning the collar of her coat. "She may be
here any minute."
"That's what I say," chimed in Mr Beaver.
"Get along with you all," said his wife. "Think it over, Mr Beaver. She can't be
here for quarter of an hour at least."
"But don't we want as big a start as we can possibly get," said Peter, "if we're
to reach the Stone Table before her?"
"You've got to remember that, Mrs Beaver," said Susan. "As soon as she has
looked in here and finds we're gone she'll be off at top speed."
"That she will," said Mrs Beaver. "But we can't get there before her whatever we
do, for she'll be on a sledge and we'll be walking."
"Then - have we no hope?" said Susan.
"Now don't you get fussing, there's a dear," said Mrs Beaver, "but just get half
a dozen clean handkerchiefs out of the drawer. 'Course we've got a hope. We
can't get there before her but we can keep under cover and go by ways she won't
expect and perhaps we'll get through."
"That's true enough, Mrs Beaver," said her husband. "But it's time we were out
of this."
"And don't you start fussing either, Mr Beaver," said his wife. "There. That's
better. There's five loads and the smallest for the smallest of us: that's you,
my dear," she added, looking at Lucy.
"Oh, do please come on," said Lucy.
"Well, I'm nearly ready now," answered Mrs Beaver at last, allowing her husband
to help her into; her snow-boots. "I suppose the sewing machine's took heavy to
bring?"
"Yes. It is," said Mr Beaver. "A great deal too heavy. And you don't think
you'll be able to use it while we're on the run, I suppose?"
"I can't abide the thought of that Witch fiddling with it," said Mrs Beaver,
"and breaking it or stealing it, as likely as not."
"Oh, please, please, please, do hurry!" said the three children. And so at last
they all got outside and Mr Beaver locked the door ("It'll delay her a bit," he
said) and they set off, all carrying their loads over their shoulders.
The snow had stopped and the moon had come out when they began their journey.
They went in single file - first Mr Beaver, then Lucy, then Peter, then Susan,
and Mrs Beaver last of all. Mr Beaver led them across the dam and on to the
right bank of the river and then along a very rough sort of path among the trees
right down by the river-bank. The sides of the valley, shining in the moonlight,
towered up far above them on either hand. "Best keep down here as much as
possible," he said. "She'll have to keep to the top, for you couldn't bring a
sledge down here."
It would have been a pretty enough scene to look at it through a window from a
comfortable armchair; and even as things were, Lucy enjoyed it at first. But as
they went on walking and walking - and walking and as the sack she was carrying
felt heavier and heavier, she began to wonder how she was going to keep up at
all. And she stopped looking at the dazzling brightness of the frozen river with
all its waterfalls of ice and at the white masses of the tree-tops and the great
glaring moon and the countless stars and could only watch the little short legs
of Mr Beaver going pad-pad-pad-pad through the snow in front of her as if they
were never going to stop. Then the moon disappeared and the snow began to fall
once more. And at last Lucy was so tired that she was almost asleep and walking
at the same time when suddenly she found that Mr Beaver had turned away from the
river-bank to the right and was leading them steeply uphill into the very
thickest bushes. And then as she came fully awake she found that Mr Beaver was
just vanishing into a little hole in the bank which had been almost hidden under
the bushes until you were quite on top of it. In fact, by the time she realized
what was happening, only his short flat tail was showing.
Lucy immediately stooped down and crawled in after him. Then she heard noises of
scrambling and puffing and panting behind her and in a moment all five of them
were inside.
"Wherever is this?" said Peter's voice, sounding tired and pale in the darkness.
(I hope you know what I mean by a voice sounding pale.)
"It's an old hiding-place for beavers in bad times," said Mr Beaver, "and a
great secret. It's not much of a place but we must get a few hours' sleep."
"If you hadn't all been in such a plaguey fuss when we were starting, I'd have
brought some pillows," said Mrs Beaver.
It wasn't nearly such a nice cave as Mr Tumnus's, Lucy thought - just a hole in
the ground but dry and earthy. It was very small so that when they all lay down
they were all a bundle of clothes together, and what with that and being warmed
up by their long walk they were really rather snug. If only the floor of the
cave had been a little smoother! Then Mrs Beaver handed round in the dark a
little flask out of which everyone drank something - it made one cough and
splutter a little and stung the throat, but it also made you feel deliciously
warm after you'd swallowed it and everyone went straight to sleep.
It seemed to Lucy only the next minute (though really it was hours and hours
later) when she woke up feeling a little cold and dreadfully stiff and thinking
how she would like a hot bath. Then she felt a set of long whiskers tickling her
cheek and saw the cold daylight coming in through the mouth of the cave. But
immediately after that she was very wide awake indeed, and so was everyone else.
In fact they were all sitting up with their mouths and eyes wide open listening
to a sound which was the very sound they'd all been thinking of (and sometimes
imagining they heard) during their walk last night. It was a sound of jingling
bells.
Mr Beaver was out of the cave like a flash the moment he heard it. Perhaps you
think, as Lucy thought for a moment, that this was a very silly thing to do? But
it was really a very sensible one. He knew he could scramble to the top of the
bank among bushes and brambles without being seen; and he wanted above all
things to see which way the Witch's sledge went. The others all sat in the cave
waiting and wondering. They waited nearly five minutes. Then they heard
something that frightened them very much. They heard voices. "Oh," thought Lucy,
"he's been seen. She's caught him!"
Great was their surprise when a little later, they heard Mr Beaver's voice
calling to them from just outside the cave.
"It's all right," he was shouting. "Come out, Mrs Beaver. Come out, Sons and
Daughters of Adam. It's all right! It isn't Her!" This was bad grammar of
course, but that is how beavers talk when they are excited; I mean, in Narnia -
in our world they usually don't talk at all.
So Mrs Beaver and the children came bundling out of the cave, all blinking in
the daylight, and with earth all over them, and looking very frowsty and
unbrushed and uncombed and with the sleep in their eyes.
"Come on!" cried Mr Beaver, who was almost dancing with delight. "Come and see!
This is a nasty knock for the Witch! It looks as if her power is already
crumbling."
"What do you mean, Mr Beaver?" panted Peter as they all scrambled up the steep
bank of the valley together.
"Didn't I tell you," answered Mr Beaver, "that she'd made it always winter and
never Christmas? Didn't I tell you? Well, just come and see!"
And then they were all at the top and did see.
It was a sledge, and it was reindeer with bells on their harness. But they were
far bigger than the Witch's reindeer, and they were not white but brown. And on
the sledge sat a person whom everyone knew the moment they set eyes on him. He
was a huge man. in a bright red robe (bright as hollyberries) with a hood that
had fur inside it and a great white beard, that fell like a foamy waterfall over
his chest.
Everyone knew him because, though you see people of his sort only in Narnia, you
see pictures of them and hear them talked about even in our world - the world on
this side of the wardrobe door. But when you really see them in Narnia it is
rather different. Some of the pictures of Father Christmas in our world make him
look only funny and jolly. But now that the children actually stood looking at
him they didn't find it quite like that. He was so big, and so glad, and so
real, that they all became quite still. They felt very glad, but also solemn.
"I've come at last," said he. "She has kept me out for a long time, but I have
got in at last. Aslan is on the move. The Witch's magic is weakening."
And Lucy felt running through her that deep shiver of gladness which you only
get if you are being solemn and still.
"And now," said Father Christmas, "for your presents. There is a new and better
sewing machine for you, Mrs Beaver. I will drop it in your house as, I pass."
"If you please, sir," said Mrs Beaver, making a curtsey. "It's locked up."
"Locks and bolts make no difference to me," said Father Christmas. "And as for
you, Mr Beaver, when you get home you will find your dam finished and mended and
all the leaks stopped and a new sluicegate fitted."
Mr Beaver was so pleased that he opened his mouth very wide and then found he
couldn't say anything at all.
"Peter, Adam's Son," said Father Christmas.
"Here, sir," said Peter.
"These are your presents," was the answer, "and they are tools not toys. The
time to use them is perhaps near at hand. Bear them well." With these words he
handed to Peter a shield and a sword. The shield was the colour of silver and
across it there ramped a red lion, as bright as a ripe strawberry at the moment
when you pick it. The hilt of the sword was of gold and it had a sheath and a
sword belt and everything it needed, and it was just the right size and weight
for Peter to use. Peter was silent and solemn as he received these gifts, for he
felt they were a very serious kind of present.
"Susan, Eve's Daughter," said Father Christmas. "These are for you," and he
handed her a bow and a quiver full of arrows and a little ivory horn. "You must
use the bow only in great need," he said, "for I do not mean you to fight in the
battle. It does not easily miss. And when you put this horn to your lips; and
blow it, then, wherever you are, I think help of some kind will come to you."
Last of all he said, "Lucy, Eve's Daughter," and Lucy came forward. He gave her
a little bottle of what looked like glass (but people said afterwards that it
was made of diamond) and a small dagger. "In this bottle," he said, "there is
cordial made of the juice of one of the fireflowers that grow in the mountains
of the sun. If you or any of your friends is hurt, a few drops of this restore
them. And the dagger is to defend yourse at great need. For you also are not to
be in battle."
"Why, sir?" said Lucy. "I think - I don't know but I think I could be brave
enough."
"That is not the point," he said. "But battles are ugly when women fight. And
now" - here he suddenly looked less grave - "here is something for the moment
for you all!" and he brought out (I suppose from the big bag at his back, but
nobody quite saw him do it) a large tray containing five cups and saucers, a
bowl of lump sugar, a jug of cream, and a great big teapot all sizzling and
piping hot. Then he cried out "Merry Christmas! Long live the true King!" and
cracked his whip, and he and the reindeer and the sledge and all were out of
sight before anyone realized that they had started.
Peter had just drawn his sword out of its sheath and was showing it to Mr
Beaver, when Mrs Beaver said:
"Now then, now then! Don't stand talking there till the tea's got cold. Just
like men. Come and help to carry the tray down and we'll have breakfast. What a
mercy I thought of bringing the bread-knife."
So down the steep bank they went and back to the cave, and Mr Beaver cut some of
the bread and ham into sandwiches and Mrs Beaver poured out the tea and everyone
enjoyed themselves. But long before they had finished enjoying themselves Mr
Beaver said, "Time to be moving on now."
