Back in the Wardrobe

Chapter 4: Slave Trade

"Who goes there?" A guard of the slave trade asked.

"Tis I, Serophinia, daughter of Duke Demortez. My father is looking for one of the strongest servants you have to work the fields," Marilyn said, already hating the attention she was getting because of the outfit she was in. Calormen women dressed, well, immodestly. She didn’t like that at all.

“Why Miss Serophinia! Come along! I haven’t seen you in a few weeks. How is you father?” The guard asked.

“He is well,” Marilyn said.

The guard nodded, pleased that the woman gave a short answer, as was customary.

“Cortez! Line up the men!,” The guard called.

“Who’s with you there Dontay?” Cortez asked as he went to line the men up.

“Duke Demortez’s daughter,” Dontay said.

“Serophinia? She hasn’t been here in a while,” Cortez said, attaching the slaves chains to the wall.

“Yes I know,” Dontay said.

‘She’s quite the looker,” Cortez said.

“She would make a great second or third wife,” Dontay said, a strange smile on his creepy face.

Marilyn wanted to help them remember she was standing right there, like say, stabbing them in the foot with her weapon. But that would blow the whole mission, so she bit her tongue.

“So Miss Demortez, which one suits your liking?” Dontay asked, as they stopped in front of the men.

Marilyn pretended to study each man carefully. Those poor men were dressed in a light cotton shirt and ripped breeches. Most were beaten and looked awful. “Him,” Marilyn said, pointing at the slave at the far end.

“Him? Miss he is the most lazy disobedient one. He had to be taught many a lesson,” Cortez said, referring to the bruises and whip marks on the chosen servant.

“Father said strong. He looks strongest,” Marilyn said, handing Dontay the money.

“If you insist. Shall I escort you home?” Dontay asked.

“I will be fine. My servants are a way down the road. They shall help me,” Marilyn said.

“Alright. Goodbye Serophinia. I shall pay your family a visit in a few day,” Dontay winked at her.

Marilyn was disgusted with this man. But she had to play her part so she giggled like a schoolgirl and smiled at him. “Goodbye.”

After making her way back to her camp, the man spoke. “Well?”

“No time for questions. We need to get to Cair Paravel, whoever you are,” Marilyn said.

“I’m,” The slave started.

“No time!,” Marilyn exclaimed. “Now, Look away! I need to change!”

The slave averted his eyes. “I’m..” He tried again.

“Not listening! Now, Aslan says no questions. We just need to get to the ruins of Cair Paravel,” Marilyn said. “Oh and throw on these. You look awful right now.” Marilyn tossed an outfit set to the slave.

He quickly changed and the pair started on their way to the ruins.

“We just have a little farther,” Reeden said. The Pevensies had been walking for two days already.

“This seemed a lot shorter by horse,” Edmund said, thinking of Philip, his favorite horse.

“Well, horses are faster than people. Now get a move on. We are near the edge of the lawns,” Susan said quickly. She wanted to get this fight started. Those who killed Caspian would perish in Tash’s country. She would make sure of that.

“This is madness,” Nathan said angrily. “I want to go to England!”

“Quiet Nathan! You complain worse than Eustace!” Edmund snapped.

“Who?” Nathan asked.

“Our cousin. And Edmund, be nice,” Lucy said the last snippily.

Before Edmund could snap back, Peter intervened, “Look!”

“That’s an Archenlandish tent!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

“Welcome your majesties. The trees informed us of your arrival,” A familiar voice said.

“Glenstorm! You survived the raid,” Lucy exclaimed.

“Barely,” the centaur said, looking at his back leg, which was dangling at a strange angle.

Lucy pulled out her cordial and dropped a small drip into the generals mouth.

“Thank you Lucy. So, Peter, you are now in charge of the army, I am to assume?”

“Yes.” Peter said, then in a whisper to the centaur, “Caspian was not found?”

The centaur shook his head sadly.

“Now come into camp. There are some Archenlandish people and a few Telmarines, but mostly us Narnians,” Reeden said.

The royals enter the camp, a new reality growing in them. They would be leading these Narnians to what they figured would be their most certain deaths.