The Lions, the Witch and the Locker: Chapter Three

Links to Chapter One and Chapter Two

Edmund slipped and shivered through the snow until he eventually found the Witch’s castle. It looked quite creepy, but bolstered by thoughts of Turkish Delight (oh, his Saracens – and the Scarlets were his favourite Welsh side), he crept through the imposing main gate.

He found himself in a courtyard filled with statues. They had snow settling on them, and they all looked very sad. Near the gate, there were a couple of magnificent Lions, and then he spotted a statue that looked very like Lucy’s description of Mr Iknus. There was a collection of stone rugby balls, and what looked like a few referees. (“Those referees probably deserved it,” thought Edmund.)

Suddenly, Edmund was rooted to the spot by a chilling low growl. He turned his head to find himself staring into the eyes of Maugrim, chief of the Witch’s Very Secret Police.

“Come,” said Maugrim, “Her Majesty is expecting you.”

* * *

“What!” said the Witch, not at all friendly like the last time, “Have you come alone? I told you to bring the Daughters of Maeve and the other Son of George.”

“B – b – but,” stammered Edmund, afraid of her icy stare and stern manner, “I couldn’t get them away from the Beavers. They were all talking about the return of Paulan to Narnia.”

The Queen turned even paler, if that were possible.

“Paulan!” she muttered to herself, “No, it cannot be possible. My spells are strong.”

Before Edmund knew what had happened, she had crossed the room and spear-tackled him with one strong arm. “Tell me all,” she said, preparing to drive his head into the ground.

Edmund, quaking with fear, told her all that he knew.

The Witch released him with a thump on the floor, and clapped her hands to summon her minions.

“Harness the springboks and prepare my sledge immediately! Get my dwarf! Maugrim: take the swiftest of your wolves, go to the Lodge, and kill the children and the Beavers. If they have already gone, then proceed to the Stone Stadium.”

In the twinkling of a drop goal, the sledge pulled up, driven by a dwarf who looked suspiciously like a scrum-half. Edmund was bound, and unceremoniously dumped into the bottom of the sledge. There wasn’t even any Turkish Delight.

* * *

“Susan,” said Peter, “Where’s Edmund?”

“I – I don’t know. Now that you mention it, I haven’t noticed him for a while.”

“Ah, children,” said Mr Beaver, “I’m afraid he’s gone to see the Witch. We must be on our way quickly.”

“What?”, said Lucy, “No, surely Edmund would never betray us.”

“Daughter, I’m afraid he has the look of one who is in the Witch’s favour. How long that favour lasts is another matter.

“Did anyone notice when he left? Did he hear that Paulan is on the move?”

Nobody was quite sure.

“Then we must be off at once. Mrs Beaver, please pack us up as quickly as you can.”

Mrs Beaver – for of course it’s always the females who are prepared for anything – had already got nearly everything ready for travelling. She had a pack ready for everyone, and they were off in less time than it takes to reset a scrum.

* * *

They had a long, cold and weary journey, and stopped after some hours at a safe hiding place, where they cast themselves down on the floor, covered themselves with the blankets kindly provided by Mrs Beaver, and fell asleep immediately.

They were awakened at dawn by some faint voices, which became clearer as they drew closer.

“Ho, ho ho! Go left! It’s on!”

“I’m straighter than that throw-in.”

The children rubbed the sleep from their eyes and looked in confusion at the Beavers.

“It’s Father Jiffy and Father Nige,” beamed Mr Beaver. “The Witch’s magic has kept them from Narnia for so long, but her enchantment is fading. The voices of rugby have returned to the land.” They rushed outside to find a volley of rugby balls flying through the air, and the snow at last melting.