A Year with Aslan: Daily Reflections from The Chronicles of Narnia Page 19

  —The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

  What does it mean for Peter to win his spurs? How do you think Peter acquits himself? When in life have you had to prove yourself?

  JUNE 23

  Never Forget to Wipe Your Sword

  PETER, STILL OUT OF BREATH, turned and saw Aslan close at hand.

  “You have forgotten to clean your sword,” said Aslan.

  It was true. Peter blushed when he looked at the bright blade and saw it all smeared with the Wolf’s hair and blood. He stooped down and wiped it quite clean on the grass, and then wiped it quite dry on his coat.

  “Hand it to me and kneel, Son of Adam,” said Aslan. And when Peter had done so he struck him with the flat of the blade and said, “Rise up, Sir Peter Wolf’s-Bane. And, whatever happens, never forget to wipe your sword.”

  —The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

  Peter has just killed the Wolf that was attacking his sister, and instead of a “Job well done” or similar sentiment, these are Aslan’s first words to him. Why do you think Aslan chooses these words?

  JUNE 24

  Ordinary People

  ALL IN GOOD TIME, MY BOY,” said Uncle Andrew. “They let old Mrs. Lefay out before she died and I was one of the very few people whom she would allow to see her in her last illness. She had got to dislike ordinary, ignorant people, you understand. I do myself. But she and I were interested in the same sort of things. It was only a few days before her death that she told me to go to an old bureau in her house and open a secret drawer and bring her a little box that I would find there. The moment I picked up that box I could tell by the pricking in my fingers that I held some great secret in my hands. She gave it to me and made me promise that as soon as she was dead I would burn it, unopened, with certain ceremonies. That promise I did not keep.”

  “Well, then, it was jolly rotten of you,” said Digory.

  “Rotten?” said Uncle Andrew with a puzzled look. “Oh, I see. You mean that little boys ought to keep their promises. Very true: most right and proper, I’m sure, and I’m very glad you have been taught to do it. But of course you must understand that rules of that sort, however excellent they may be for little boys—and servants—and women—and even people in general, can’t possibly be expected to apply to profound students and great thinkers and sages. No, Digory. Men like me, who possess hidden wisdom, are freed from common rules just as we are cut off from common pleasures. Ours, my boy, is a high and lonely destiny.”

  —The Magician’s Nephew

  How does Uncle Andrew differentiate himself from the people around him? What are the dangers of thinking as he does? When have you been guilty of this attitude?

  JUNE 25

  Eustace the Dragon Tells His Story

  [LUCY ASKED THE DRAGON,] “Are you someone enchanted—someone human, I mean?”

  It nodded violently.

  And then someone said—people disputed afterward whether Lucy or Edmund said it first—“You’re not—not Eustace by any chance?”

  And Eustace nodded his terrible dragon head and thumped his tail in the sea and everyone skipped back (some of the sailors with ejaculations I will not put down in writing) to avoid the enormous and boiling tears which flowed from his eyes.

  Lucy tried hard to console him and even screwed up her courage to kiss the scaly face, and nearly everyone said “Hard luck” and several assured Eustace that they would all stand by him and many said there was sure to be some way of disenchanting him and they’d have him as right as rain in a day or two. And of course they were all very anxious to hear his story, but he couldn’t speak. More than once in the days that followed he attempted to write it for them on the sand. But this never succeeded. In the first place Eustace (never having read the right books) had no idea how to tell a story straight. And for another thing, the muscles and nerves of the dragon-claws that he had to use had never learned to write and were not built for writing anyway. As a result he never got nearly to the end before the tide came in and washed away all the writing except the bits he had already trodden on or accidentally swished out with his tail. And all that anyone had seen would be something like this—the dots are for the bits he had smudged out—

  I WNET TO SLEE . . . RGOS AGRONS I MEAN DRANGONS CAVE CAUSE ITWAS DEAD AND AINING SO HAR . . . WOKE UP AND COU . . . GET OFFF MI ARM OH BOTHER . . .

  —The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

  We read several times that Eustace had not read the right sort of books to prepare himself for his adventures in Narnia. What might the right books have been? How could they have changed things for Eustace? What have the right books been for you? How have they changed things for you?

  JUNE 26

  A Bit Sorry

  IT WAS A GOOD DEAL DARKER NOW and very silent except for the sound of the waves on the beach, which Shasta hardly noticed because he had been hearing it day and night as long as he could remember. The cottage, as he approached it, showed no light. When he listened at the front there was no noise. When he went round to the only window, he could hear, after a second or two, the familiar noise of the old fisherman’s squeaky snore. It was funny to think that if all went well he would never hear it again. Holding his breath and feeling a little bit sorry, but much less sorry than he was glad, Shasta glided away over the grass and went to the donkey’s stable, groped along to a place he knew where the key was hidden, opened the door and found the Horse’s saddle and bridle which had been locked up there for the night. He bent forward and kissed the donkey’s nose. “I’m sorry we can’t take you,” he said.

  —The Horse and His Boy

  Despite his ill treatment at the hands of the fisherman, Shasta is a little bit sorry to know he will never hear his snore again. Why do you think this is? When have you felt nostalgia for something that you did not appreciate or enjoy at the time?

  JUNE 27

  The Lion Gets Closer

  ALL THIS TIME the Lion’s song, and his stately prowl, to and fro, backward and forward, was going on. What was rather alarming was that at each turn he came a little nearer. Polly was finding the song more and more interesting because she thought she was beginning to see the connection between the music and the things that were happening. When a line of dark firs sprang up on a ridge about a hundred yards away she felt that they were connected with a series of deep, prolonged notes which the Lion had sung a second before. And when he burst into a rapid series of lighter notes she was not surprised to see primroses suddenly appearing in every direction. Thus, with an unspeakable thrill, she felt quite certain that all the things were coming (as she said) “out of the Lion’s head.” When you listened to his song you heard the things he was making up: when you looked round you, you saw them. This was so exciting that she had no time to be afraid. But Digory and the Cabby could not help feeling a bit nervous as each turn of the Lion’s walk brought him nearer. As for Uncle Andrew, his teeth were chattering, but his knees were shaking so that he could not run away.

  —The Magician’s Nephew

  For Digory and the Cabby at least, their sense of wonder at the amazing things going on around them is tempered with nervousness at the proximity of the creator Lion. Why would something so awe-inspiring make them afraid? When have you been excited and afraid at the same time?

  JUNE 28

  Edmund Meets the Queen of Narnia

  [O]N A MUCH HIGHER SEAT in the middle of the sledge sat a very different person—a great lady, taller than any woman that Edmund had ever seen. She also was covered in white fur up to her throat and held a long straight golden wand in her right hand and wore a golden crown on her head. Her face was white—not merely pale, but white like snow or paper or icing-sugar, except for her very red mouth. It was a beautiful face in other respects, but proud and cold and stern. . . .

  “And what, pray, are you?” said the Lady, looking hard at Edmund.

  “I’m—I’m—my name’s Edmund,” said Edmund rather awkwardly. He did not like the way she looked at him.
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br />   The Lady frowned. “Is that how you address a Queen?” she asked, looking sterner than ever.

  “I beg your pardon, your Majesty, I didn’t know,” said Edmund.

  “Not know the Queen of Narnia?” cried she. “Ha! You shall know us better hereafter. But I repeat—what are you?”

  “Please, your Majesty,” said Edmund, “I don’t know what you mean. I’m at school—at least I was—it’s the holidays now.”

  “But what are you?” said the Queen again. “Are you a great overgrown dwarf that has cut off its beard?”

  “No, your Majesty,” said Edmund, “I never had a beard, I’m a boy.”

  “A boy!” said she. “Do you mean you are a Son of Adam?”

  Edmund stood still, saying nothing. He was too confused by this time to understand what the question meant.

  “I see you are an idiot, whatever else you may be,” said the Queen. “Answer me, once and for all, or I shall lose my patience. Are you human?”

  “Yes, your Majesty,” said Edmund.

  “And how, pray, did you come to enter my dominions?”

  “Please, your Majesty, I came in through a wardrobe.”

  “A wardrobe? What do you mean?”

  “I—I opened a door and just found myself here, your Majesty,” said Edmund.

  “Ha!” said the Queen, speaking more to herself than to him. “A door. A door from the world of men! I have heard of such things. This may wreck all. But he is only one, and he is easily dealt with.” As she spoke these words she rose from her seat and looked Edmund full in the face, her eyes flaming; at the same moment she raised her wand. Edmund felt sure that she was going to do something dreadful but he seemed unable to move. Then, just as he gave himself up for lost, she appeared to change her mind.

  “My poor child,” she said in quite a different voice, “how cold you look! Come and sit with me here on the sledge and I will put my mantle round you and we will talk.”

  —The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

  What does this encounter tell us about the Queen? How would you have responded to her invitation?

  JUNE 29

  What Would Have Happened

  LUCY,” [ASLAN] SAID, “we must not lie here for long. You have work in hand, and much time has been lost today.”

  “Yes, wasn’t it a shame?” said Lucy. “I saw you all right. They wouldn’t believe me. They’re all so—”

  From somewhere deep inside Aslan’s body there came the faintest suggestion of a growl.

  “I’m sorry,” said Lucy, who understood some of his moods. “I didn’t mean to start slanging the others. But it wasn’t my fault anyway, was it?”

  The Lion looked straight into her eyes.

  “Oh, Aslan,” said Lucy. “You don’t mean it was? How could I—

  I couldn’t have left the others and come up to you alone, how could I? Don’t look at me like that . . . oh well, I suppose I could. Yes, and I wouldn’t have been alone, I know, not if I was with you. But what would have been the good?”

  Aslan said nothing.

  “You mean,” said Lucy rather faintly, “that it would have turned out all right—somehow? But how? Please, Aslan! Am I not to know?”

  “To know what would have happened, child?” said Aslan. “No. Nobody is ever told that.”

  “Oh dear,” said Lucy.

  “But anyone can find out what will happen,” said Aslan. “If you go back to the others now, and wake them up; and tell them you have seen me again; and that you must all get up at once and follow me—what will happen? There is only one way of finding out.”

  —Prince Caspian

  Why do we sometimes dwell on what would have happened rather than looking to what will happen? How do you find yourself not taking risks that, deep down, you know you should?

  JUNE 30

  Caspian’s Procession

  WHEN THEY REACHED the jetty at Narrowhaven, Caspian found a considerable crowd assembled to meet them. “This is what I sent word about last night,” said Bern. “They are all friends of mine and honest people.” And as soon as Caspian stepped ashore the crowd broke out into hurrahs and shouts of, “Narnia! Narnia! Long live the King.” At the same moment—and this was also due to Bern’s messengers—bells began ringing from many parts of the town. Then Caspian caused his banner to be advanced and his trumpet to be blown, and every man drew his sword and set his face into a joyful sternness, and they marched up the street so that the street shook, and their armor shone (for it was a sunny morning) so that one could hardly look at it steadily.

  At first, the only people who cheered were those who had been warned by Bern’s messenger and knew what was happening and wanted it to happen. But then all the children joined in because they liked a procession and had seen very few. And then all the schoolboys joined in because they also liked processions and felt that the more noise and disturbance there was, the less likely they would be to have any school that morning. And then all the old women put their heads out of doors and windows and began chattering and cheering because it was a king, and what is a governor compared with that? And all the young women joined in for the same reason and also because Caspian and Drinian and the rest were so handsome. And then all the young men came to see what the young women were looking at, so that by the time Caspian reached the castle gates, nearly the whole town was shouting; and where Gumpas sat in the castle, muddling and messing about with accounts and forms and rules and regulations, he heard the noise.

  —The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

  Caspian has arrived unexpectedly on this island, so most of the townspeople are not sure who is processing and for what reason. Does it matter why people join Caspian’s procession? Should it?

  JULY

  JULY 1

  Puddleglum Breaks the Enchantment

  THE PRINCE and the two children were standing with their heads hung down, their cheeks flushed, their eyes half closed; the strength all gone from them; the enchantment almost complete. But Puddleglum, desperately gathering all his strength, walked over to the fire. Then he did a very brave thing. He knew it wouldn’t hurt him quite as much as it would hurt a human; for his feet (which were bare) were webbed and hard and cold-blooded like a duck’s. But he knew it would hurt him badly enough; and so it did. With his bare foot he stamped on the fire, grinding a large part of it into ashes on the flat hearth. And three things happened at once.

  First, the sweet, heavy smell grew very much less. For though the whole fire had not been put out, a good bit of it had, and what remained smelled very largely of burnt Marsh-wiggle, which is not at all an enchanting smell. This instantly made everyone’s brain far clearer. The Prince and the children held up their heads again and opened their eyes.

  Secondly, the Witch, in a loud, terrible voice, utterly different from all the sweet tones she had been using up till now, called out, “What are you doing? Dare to touch my fire again, mud-filth, and I’ll turn the blood to fire inside your veins.”

  Thirdly, the pain itself made Puddleglum’s head for a moment perfectly clear and he knew exactly what he really thought. There is nothing like a good shock of pain for dissolving certain kinds of magic.

  “One word, Ma’am,” he said, coming back from the fire; limping, because of the pain. “One word. All you’ve been saying is quite right, I shouldn’t wonder. I’m a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won’t deny any of what you said. But there’s one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things—trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that’s a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We’re just babies making up a game, if you’re right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world
hollow. That’s why I’m going to stand by the play-world. I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it. I’m going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we’re leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that’s a small loss if the world’s as dull a place as you say.”

  —The Silver Chair

  What do you think of Puddleglum’s statement that even if Narnia and Aslan aren’t real, he’s going to be on Aslan’s side and live like a Narnian? Is there anything you believe so strongly that you would continue to live by it even if it might not be true?

  JULY 2

  But You Will Be There?

  AFTER A MEAL, which was taken in the open air on the hill-top (for the sun had got strong by now and dried the grass), they were busy for a while taking the pavilion down and packing things up. Before two o’clock they were on the march and set off in a northeasterly direction, walking at an easy pace for they had not far to go.

  During the first part of the journey Aslan explained to Peter his plan of campaign. “As soon as she has finished her business in these parts,” he said, “the Witch and her crew will almost certainly fall back to her House and prepare for a siege. You may or may not be able to cut her off and prevent her from reaching it.” He then went on to outline two plans of battle—one for fighting the Witch and her people in the wood and another for assaulting her castle. And all the time he was advising Peter how to conduct the operations, saying things like, “You must put your Centaurs in such and such a place” or “You must post scouts to see that she doesn’t do so-and-so,” till at last Peter said,