Chapter 9- In the Witch's House

And now, of course, you want to know what happened to Edmund. He had eaten dinner but he hadn’t really enjoyed it because the whole time he was thinking about Turkish Delight- and nothing spoils the taste of good ordinary food as much as the memory of bad magic food. He had heard the conversation and hadn’t enjoyed it much either because he kept thinking that the others were not paying attention to him and trying to give him the cold shoulder. They weren’t, but he imagined it. Then he listened until Mr. Beaver had told them about Aslan and he heard the arrangement to meet Aslan at the Stone Table. Then he started working his way under the curtain that hung over the door. Just as Mr. Beaver was telling them that the White Witch wasn’t really human at all, but half Jinn and half giantess, Edmund got out into the snow and cautiously closed the door behind him.

You musn’t think, even now, that Edmund was quite so bad that he wanted his brother and sisters to be turned into stone. He did want Turkish Delight and to be a prince (and later a king) and to pay Peter for calling him a beast. He didn’t want the Witch to be very nice to them, certainly not to put them on the same level as himself. But he believed, or pretended to believe, that she wouldn’t do anything very bad to them. “Because,” he said to himself, “all these people who say nasty things about her are her enemies and probably half of it isn’t true. She was really nice to me, anyway, much nicer than they are. I bet she is the rightful Queen really. Anyway, she’ll be better than that awful Aslan!” At least, that was the excuse he made in his own mind for what he was doing. It wasn’t a very good excuse, however, because deep down inside he really knew that the White Witch was bad and cruel.

The first thing he realized when he got out into the snow was that he had forgotten his coat. And of course there was no chance of going back to get it now. The next thing he realized was that the daylight was almost gone, because it had been almost three o’clock when they had started dinner and the winter days were short. He hadn’t planned on this, but he pulled up his collar and tried to make the best of it.

It was pretty bad by the time he reached the far end of the dam. It was getting darker every minute, and what with that and the snowflakes blowing all around him he could hardly see three feet in front of him. And then too there was no road. He kept falling into deep drifts of snow, slipping on frozen puddles, and tripping over fallen tree trunks, and hitting his shins against rocks, until he was wet and cold and bruised all over. The silence and loneliness were dreadful. In fact, I really think he might have given up the whole plan and gone back and owned up and made friends with the others if he hadn’t said to himself, “When I’m king of Narnia, the first thing I shall do will be to make some decent roads.” And of course that set him off thinking about all the things he would do as king and that cheered him up a good deal.

He would never have found his way if the weather hadn’t finally changed. The snow stopped and the wind started blowing so that it became freezing cold. Then the moon came out. The valley he had to go through next was much steeper and rockier than the one he had just left. There were so many rocks and bushes that he never could have managed it in the dark. Even so, he got wet through, because he had to climb under branches and every time he did lots of snow came sliding off onto his back. And every time that happened he thought more and more how he hated Peter – as if all this had been Peter’s fault.

But at last he came to a part that was more level and there, on the other side of the river, he saw what must be the White Witch’s house. The house was really a small castle. It seemed to be made only of towers; little towers with long pointed spires on them, as sharp as needles. They shone in the moonlight and their long shadows looked strange on the snow. Edmund began to be afraid of the house.

But it was too late to think of turning back now. He crossed the river on the ice and walked up to the house. All was silent. Even his own feet made no sound on the deep snow. He had to walk around to the other side of the house to find the door. It was a huge arch, but the great iron gates stood open.

Edmund walked up to the arch and looked into the courtyard, and there he saw something that nearly made his heart stop beating. Just inside the gate, with the moonlight shining on it, stood an enormous lion, crouched as if ready to jump. Edmund stood in the doorway, afraid to go on and afraid to go back. He stood there so long that his teeth would have been chattering with cold if they hadn’t already been chattering with fear. I don’t know how long it really lasted, but it seemed to Edmund to last for hours.

Then at last he began to wonder why the lion was standing so still – for it hadn’t moved an inch since he first set eyes on it. And now at last Edmund remembered what the others had said about the White Witch turning people into stone. Perhaps this was only a stone lion. As soon as he had thought of that he noticed that the lion’s back and the top of its head were covered with snow. Of course it must be a statue! No living animal would let itself get covered in snow. Then very slowly, with his heart beating as if it would burst, Edmund walked up to the lion. Even now he hardly dared to touch it, but at last he put out his hand very quickly and did. It was cold stone. He had been frightened of a statue!

The relief Edmund felt was so great that in spite of the cold he suddenly got warm all over, and there came into his head what seemed a perfectly lovely thought. “Probably,” he thought, “this is the great lion Aslan they were all talking about. She’s caught him already and turned him into stone. So that’s the end of all their plans with him!”

He stood there gloating over the stone lion, and presently he did something very silly and childish. He took a pencil out of his pocket and drew a mustache on the lion’s upper lip and a pair of spectacles on his eyes. Then he said “Hah! Silly old Aslan! How do you like being a stone! You thought you were pretty great, didn’t you?” But in spite of the marks on it, the face of the great stone beast still looked so terrible, and sad, and noble that Edmund didn’t really enjoy jeering at it. He turned away and began to cross the courtyard.

As he got to the middle of it he saw that there were dozens of statues all around – standing here and there like pieces on a chessboard There were stone satyrs and stone wolves, and foxes and cats. There were lovely stone shapes that looked like women but who were really the spirits of trees. There was the great shape of a centaur and a winged horse and a long creature Edmund thought must be a dragon. They all looked so strange standing there, so perfectly life-like and so perfectly still in the cold moonlight, that it was eerie work crossing the courtyard. In the very middle stood a huge shape like a man, but as tall as a tree, with a great club in its right hand. Even though he knew it was only a stone giant, Edmund did not like going past it.

He saw that there was a dim light on the other side of the courtyard. He went up to it and there were stairs leading up to an open door. Edmund went up them. Across the threshold lay a huge wolf.

“It’s all right, it’s all right.” he kept saying to himself, “It’s only a stone wolf. It can’t hurt me,” and he began to step over it. Instantly the animal rose, opened a great, red mouth and said in a growling voice:

“Who’s there? Who’s there? Stand still, stranger, and tell me who you are.”

“My name is Edmund” he said, shaking so that he could hardly speak, “and I’m the Son of Adam that Her Majesty met in the wood the other day and I’ve come to bring her the news that my brother and sisters are in Narnia. She - she wanted to see them.”

“I will tell Her Majesty. Meanwhile, stand still on the threshold if you value your life.” Then it vanished into the house.

Edmund stood and waited, his fingers aching with the cold and his heart pounding in his chest, and soon the grey wolf, Maugrim, the Captain of the Witch’s Secret Police, came back and said “Come in, come in, fortunate favorite of the Queen.”

He found himself in a long, gloomy hall, full of statues like the courtyard had been. The one nearest the door was a little faun with a very sad look on its face, and Edmund couldn’t help wondering if this was Lucy’s friend. The only light came from a single lamp, and close to this sat the White Witch.

“I’ve come, your Majesty” said Edmund, running forward excitedly.

“How dare you come alone!” said the Witch in a terrible voice. “Did I not tell you to bring the others with you?”

“Please, your Majesty, I’ve done the best I can. I’ve brought them quite close. They’re in the little house on top of the dam just up the river – with Mr. and Mrs. Beaver.”

A slow cruel smile came over the Witch’s face.

“Is that all your news?” she asked.

“No, your Majesty,” said Edmund, and told her all that he had heard before leaving the Beavers’ house that night.

“What! Aslan!” Said the Queen, “Is this true? If I find that you have lied to me -”

“Please, I’m only repeating what they said,” said Edmund, but the Queen was no longer paying attention to him. She clapped her hands and the same dwarf Edmund had seen with her before appeared.

“Make ready our sledge,” ordered the Witch, “and use the harness without bells.”