Outcast of Narnia

Chapter Five: A Bitter Draught

Susan woke to a persistent drip of water onto her face. She wiped it away, only to feel it return. Her legs felt oddly stiff and uncomfortable, as if she had been sleeping on the floor. In her golden dream, she had been in a brightly lit passageway, with white walls, following her father’s voice, and she kept answering, “Yes, father. I’m here. Where are you?”

And he’d say, “Come and find me, Susan. I’m right around the corner.” She’d race to the corner, only to see a flash of gold vanishing around the next corner.

Another drop fell and she opened her eyes. She saw that she was on the floor of an underground cavern, as damp as such caverns are said to be. She could see by the light of a thin grey light that filtered down from somewhere high above.

She moved her head and stood, finding that she was still wearing her white nightdress and that she was barefoot.

“Hello!” she called out. “Is anyone there?”

There was no answer but an echo. She shuffled uncomfortably over to the wall of the cavern and began to feel her way. She was in a room about ten feet in diameter, with one wall made up of iron bars, shut with a lock. A cell, then. The floor was nearly smooth, although it was raw stone, not polished, and dipped in the middle, so that there was a puddle covering at least half the floor. She rattled the bars but no one came.

She found a spot where water was not dripping, and settled down again on the floor, pulling her knees into her chest, too cold and hungry to sleep. Hours later, she was aroused by a glow of approaching torchlight accompanied by a shuffling noise and an old woman’s voice singing tunelessly. The old woman held up the torch and looked at her carefully.

“Please,” said Susan. “Can you help me get out of here?”

“My, but you’re a pretty one,” said the old woman. “We have na had one in here for ever so long. A Daughter of Eve, I mean,” she said.

“But I didn’t do anything,” said Susan. “I just woke up here.”

“There’s many been locked up for less than that,” said the woman.”

“Will you help me?” begged Susan. “I’ve got to find my sister Lucy. She disappeared and I don’t know where she’s gone.”

“Lu-cy?” said the woman in her cracked voice. “Lu-cy. I have na heard of a Lu-cy.”

“Well, can you let me out so I can go and look for her?” begged Susan.

“Not today, my pretty,” said the woman. “’Tis better for such as ye to stay locked up. Ye doan know what’s a’roamin’ on the other side of these bars. They’re for protection as much as anythin’.”

“Well, can I at least have something to eat or drink?” said Susan. “I’m starving.”

“Oh, I’ll bring ye something,” said the woman. “Ye may not like it, but ye’ll get nothin’ else from me.”

“I think I could eat anything,” said Susan.

“We’ll see, we’ll see,” said the old woman, cackling and wheezing. She held her torch uncomfortably close to Susan’s face and took one more look before turning and shuffling back the way she had come.

* * *

Susan had no way of knowing whether it was night or day. The glow from above stayed steady, which made her think she must be deep underground, and that glow was not from the sun or moon, but from some other light. She resumed her position on the floor and was aroused again by a booming and snorting noise somewhere far off, and from another quarter, a bizarre wailing and moaning. Then she realised that her thirst had grown stronger than her hunger, and her tongue felt like paper in her mouth. Will I become desperate enough to drink from the puddle on the floor, she wondered.

Somewhere between a few hours and an entire night, she saw once more the glow of torchlight, and would have cried with relief if her tear ducts did not seem to have also dried up. The old woman set the torch in a bracket at the side of the cell and opened a small slit at the bottom of the gate. She shoved in a metal tray on which was placed a carved silver cup filled with a thin violet-grey liquid.

“What is it?” croaked Susan, between dry lips.

“Ye’ll get nowt else till ye drink it all down,” said the old woman. “Every drop.”

Susan picked up the cup put it to her lips. It smelled of bitter herbs. She sipped it and nearly spat it out. “Is it a potion?”

“Swallow,” said the old woman. “Or ye’ll not see daylight again. Iffen ye do swallow it all, I’ll let ye out, and e’en help ye find yer sister, if she hasn’t already been taken by him,” she said knowingly. Under her breath she said, “Most like she has.”

Susan choked down first one gulp, then another. The old woman’s eyes gleamed. “Ah yes. Sommat it’s the bitter drinks that do the most good.”

When Susan had finished the dregs, the woman fished an ancient set of keys from her robes and opened the stiff lock. She also pulled out a dingy looking tunic and pair of slippers, and a ragged mantle that matched her own. “Perhaps ye’re used to finer things than this,” she said, “but it’s all you’re like to get here.”

Susan was so cold that she was eager to put on the clothes, and threw them right over her nightdress. She managed to gasp out “thank you,” and as she did, she was surprised that her voice was as dry and raspy as before she had drunk the potion.

She went to pull her hair back from her face, and as she caught a glimpse of it in the torchlight, she realised that it was no longer golden but silvery white, grey and stringy as the old woman’s. Her hands in front of her face were rough and gnarled.

“What’s happened to me? What have you done?” she screamed with horror. “I’m old!”

“Not so old that ye can’t be made young again,” said the old woman. “But ye’ll not get it by screamin’. Foller me or I’ll lock ye back inside. Ye’ll thank me one day, that ye will.”

She picked up the torch and Susan followed her out. After carefully locking the door of the cell, the old woman began shuffling back up the passage. Susan followed, carrying a pain in her chest like none she had ever felt.