The Silver Chair - Lewis Clive Staples (читать полные книги онлайн бесплатно .txt) 📗
The first thing she thought was how very grubby and untidy and generally unimpressive he looked. And the second was “How wet I am!”
CHAPTER THREE.
THE SAILING OF THE KING
WHAT made Scrubb look so dingy (and Jill too, if she could only have seen herself) was the splendour of their surroundings. I had better describe them at once.
Through a cleft in those mountains which Jill had seen far inland as she approached the land, the sunset light was pouring over a level lawn. On the far side of the lawn, its weather-vanes glittering in the light, rose a many-towered and many-turreted castle; the most beautiful castle Jill had ever seen. On the near side was a quay of white marble and, moored to this, the ship: a tall ship with high forecastle and high poop, gilded and crimson, with a great flag at the mast-head, and many banners waving from the decks, and a row of shields, bright as silver, along the bulwarks. The gang-plank was laid to her, and at the foot of it, just ready to go on board, stood an old, old man. He wore a rich mantle of scarlet which opened in front to show his silver mail shirt. There was a thin circlet of gold on his head. His beard, white as wool, fell nearly to his waist. He stood straight enough, leaning one hand on the shoulder of a richly dressed lord who seemed younger than himself: but you could see he was very old and frail. He looked as if a puff of wind could blow him away, and his eyes were watery.
Immediately in front of the King—who had turned round to speak to his people before going on board the ship—there was a little chair on wheels, and, harnessed to it, a little donkey: not much bigger than a big retriever. In this chair sat a fat little dwarf. He was as richly dressed as the King, but because of his fatness and because he was sitting hunched up among cushions, the effect was quite different: it made him look like a shapeless little bundle of fur and silk and velvet. He was as old as the King, but more hale and hearty, with very keen eyes. His bare head, which was bald and extremely large, shone like a gigantic billiard ball in the sunset light.
Farther back, in a half-circle, stood what Jill at once knew to be the courtiers. They were well worth looking at for their clothes and armour alone. As far as that went, they looked more like a flower-bed than a crowd. But what really made Jill open her eyes and mouth as wide as they would go, was the people themselves. If “people” was the right word. For only about one in every five was human. The rest were things you never see in our world. Fauns, satyrs, centaurs: Jill could give a name to these, for she had seen pictures of them. Dwarfs too. And there were a lot of animals she knew as well; bears, badgers, moles, leopards, mice, and various birds. But then they were so very different from the animals which one called by the same names in England. Some of them were much bigger—the mice, for instance, stood on their hind legs and were over two feet high. But quite apart from that, they all looked different. You could see by the expression in their faces that they could talk and think just as well as you could.
“Golly!” thought Jill. “So it's true after all.” But next moment she added, “I wonder are they friendly?” For she had just noticed, on the outskirts of the crowd, one or two giants and some people whom she couldn't give a name to at all.
At that moment Aslan and the signs rushed back into her mind. She had forgotten all about them for the last half-hour.
“Scrubb!” she whispered, grabbing his arm. “Scrubb, quick! Do you see anyone you know?”
“So you've turned up again, have you?” said Scrubb disagreeably (for which he had some reason). “Well, keep quiet, can't you? I want to listen.”
“Don't be a fool,” said Jill. “There isn't a moment to lose. Don't you see some old friend here? Because you've got to go and speak to him at once.”
“What are you talking about?” said Scrubb.
“It's Aslan—the Lion—says you've got to,” said Jill despairingly. “I've seen him.”
“Oh, you have, have you? What did he say?”
“He said the very first person you saw in Narnia would be an old friend, and you'd got to speak to him at once.”
“Well, there's nobody here I've ever seen in my life before; and anyway, I don't know whether this is Narnia.”
“Thought you said you'd been here before,” said Jill.
“Well, you thought wrong then.”
“Well, I like that! You told me—”
“For heaven's sake dry up and let's hear what they're saying.”
The King was speaking to the Dwarf, but Jill couldn't hear what he said. And, as far as she could make out, the Dwarf made no answer, though he nodded and wagged his head a great deal. Then the King raised his voice and addressed the whole court: but his voice was so old and cracked that she could understand very little of his speech—especially since it was all about people and places she had never heard of. When the speech was over, the King stooped down and kissed the Dwarf on both cheeks, straightened himself, raised his right hand as if in blessing, and went, slowly and with feeble steps, up the gangway and on board the ship. The courtiers appeared to be greatly moved by his departure. Handkerchiefs were got out, sounds of sobbing were heard in every direction. The gangway was cast off, trumpets sounded from the poop, and the ship moved away from the quay. (It was being towed by a rowing-boat, but Jill didn't see that.)
“Now—” said Scrubb, but he didn't get any farther, because at that moment a large white object—Jill thought for a second that it was a kite—came gliding through the air and alighted at his feet. It was a white owl, but so big that it stood as high as a good-sized dwarf.
It blinked and peered as if it were short-sighted, and put its head a little on one side, and said in a soft, hooting kind of voice:
“Tu-whoo, tu-whoo! Who are you two?”
“My name's Scrubb, and this is Pole,” said Eustace. “Would you mind telling us where we are?”
“In the land of Narnia, at the King's castle of Cair Paravel.”
“Is that the King who's just taken ship?”
“Too true, too true,” said the Owl sadly, shaking its big head. “But who are you? There's something magic about you two. I saw you arrive: you flew. Everyone else was so busy seeing the King off that nobody knew. Except me. I happened to notice you, you flew.”
“We were sent here by Aslan,” said Eustace in a low voice.
“Tu-whoo, tu-whoo!” said the Owl, ruffling out its feathers. “This is almost too much for me, so early in the evening. I'm not quite myself till the sun's down.”
“And we've been sent to find the lost Prince,” said Jill, who had been anxiously waiting to get into the conversation.
“It's the first I've heard about it,” said Eustace. “What prince?”
“You had better come and speak to the Lord Regent at once,” it said. “That's him, over there in the donkey carriage; Trumpkin the Dwarf.” The bird turned and began leading the way, muttering to itself, “Whoo! Tu-whoo! What a to-do! I can't think clearly yet. It's too early.”
“What is the King's name?” asked Eustace.
“Caspian the Tenth,” said the Owl. And Jill wondered why Scrubb had suddenly pulled up short in his walk and turned an extraordinary colour. She thought she had never seen him look so sick about anything. But before she had time to ask any questions they had reached the dwarf, who was just gathering up the reins of his donkey and preparing to drive back to the castle. The crowd of courtiers had broken up and were going in the same direction, by ones and twos and little knots, like people coming away from watching a game or a race.
“Tu-whoo! Ahem! Lord Regent,” said the Owl, stooping down a little and holding its beak near the Dwarf's ear.
“Heh? What's that?” said the Dwarf.
