The Faded Portrait of a Bygone Era

The Arrest of Mister Tumnus

The next day, Lucy refused to speak to the others, especially Edmund. No matter what comforts Peter and Susan put forth, she didn't budge. Rather, she focused on reading her book. Even when Susan practically forced them all outside to enjoy the beautiful weather, Lucy wouldn't play with them. She let them all have their game, but she sat under a nearby tree to read. If she couldn't go to Narnia, she might as well lose herself in a land that really was imaginary, rather than be forced to act like everything was okay with her siblings. No, she intended to thoroughly ignore them. They simply didn't understand. Maggie would understand, though, and Mister Tumnus would empathize. Once Susan and Peter finally allowed them all back into the house, she knew exactly where she'd be headed.

The sudden sound of shattering glass jolted her from her book.

"Oh no," Susan said.

"Quick, we've got to see what got hit," Peter said. He took off for the mansion in a sprint, and the others followed.

Now this, Lucy thought, was far too interesting to pass up. She set her book aside and rushed after them.

After only a little bit of searching, the four of them found the foyer the ball had crashed into. An antique-looking suit of armour lay on the ground, some of its pieces dented and scattered, and the ball sat in the midst of broken glass shards.

"Well done, Ed," Peter said.

"You bowled it!" he snapped back defensively.

Just then, a shrill voice echoed from elsewhere in the house, "What on earth is going on?"

"The Macready!" Susan gasped.

Peter waved them all towards the door. "Come on!"

The four of them took off running, desperate to escape that horrid woman's wrath. They rounded a corner, but Edmund, who had taken the lead at some point, froze in his tracks as footsteps echoed from beyond.

"No no," he said quickly, "Back, back, back!"

They all turned around and headed back the other way. How did it seem that the Macready's footsteps were always coming from the direction they were headed? After all, it was a big house, and she wasn't that fast. But there was no time to dwell on such things. Wherever she wasn't, that was where the four siblings ran. Closer and closer, the steps came, ever cornering them, like a pincer, forcing them in a specific direction. Peter tried a door, but it was locked. He moved to the next one, but Edmund beat him there. Spare Oom, Lucy noted.

They shut the door behind them, but the footsteps clacked on. Edmund rushed up to the wardrobe, flinging the door open. It was their last and only option.

"Come on!"

Susan gave the wardrobe an incredulous look. "Oh, you've got to be joking..."

But the sound of the approaching Macready gave no room for argument. Peter quickly guided the girls into the wardrobe, making certain he was last. He closed the door as far as he could, but not all the way, for he knew it was foolish to close oneself inside a wardrobe. Just before the door to the room opened, he darted back, trying to stay as far away from the door as possible, but there wasn't much room for all four of the siblings in the tiny space.

"Get back!"

"My toe!"

"I'm not on your toe!"

"Move back!"

"Will you stop shoving?"

And just like that, the two eldest Pevensies tripped and fell backwards, not into the wood of the wardrobe wall, but rather, into a powdery layer of snow.