TCN04 - Prince Caspian, Part 07 of 08

Host (Male): Last time on Prince Caspian, the return to Narnia.
Trumpkin: Stand aside, let all this work.
Caspian: The help will come. It may be even now at the door.
Miraz: I mean a power, so much greater than Aslan's that it held Narnia spellbound.
Glozelle: The white witch.
Sopespian: You can't mean her.
Miraz: Yes, I mean the witch.
Glozelle: Is this open treason, draw?
Edmund: We must go in now.
Susan: Right.
Lucy: Come on.
Edmund: He can't.
Caspian: We are not strong enough to meet Miraz in pitched battle.
Peter: I'm afraid not, high king.
Caspian: Very well then, I'll send him a challenge to single combat.
Host (Male): The most beloved children's series.
Lucy: And what wonderful adventures we shall have.
Susan: Oh, I do wish we knew the story that's behind all this.
Host (Male): Brought to glorious life.
Lucy: It's the army. It's Rabidash and he's coming this way.
Peter: Quick, we must get to Anvard before them.
Rabidash: Tomorrow, I will begin the conquest of the world.
Host (Male): And coming to an imagination near you.
Lucy: There's not much point in finding a magic ring that lets you into other worlds, if you're afraid to look at them when you've got there.
Host (Male): CS Lewis's classic Narnia series, available for you to cherish in your own home. Produced by Focus on the Family's Radio Theatre, stories like The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, The Horse and His Boy, The Magician's Nephew, Prince Caspian, and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader now can be yours. Call our toll-free number at 1-800, the letter A, Family, or visit our website at radiotheater.org. Focus on the Family Radio Theatre, set sail for adventure.
Dr. Greg Smalley: Hey, this is Dr. Greg Smalley from Focus on the Family. If you're married, you know it takes work for two lives to become one, and your wins and losses are often tied to who you are and how you work together.
Dr. Greg Smalley: The Focus on the Family Marriage Assessment provides a combined report that considers your individual strengths and areas of growth, and how unique people like you can better come together.
Dr. Greg Smalley: To get started, visit focusonthefamily.com/marriageassessment. That's focusonthefamily.com/marriageassessment.
Miraz: It's about time you two arrived.
Glozelle: We came as quickly as we could, sire.
Miraz: Indeed. There. Look at this. This pack of nursery tales our Jackanape of a nephew has sent us.
Sopespian: By your leave, sire.
Glozelle: If the young warrior, whom we have seen outside of your tent, is the King Edmund mentioned in the writing, then I would not call him a nursery tale but a very dangerous knight.
Miraz: King Edmund, bah. But touching the challenge, I suppose there is only one opinion between us? Huh?
Glozelle: I suppose so, indeed, sire.
Glozelle: You must refuse it, of course. For though I have never been called a coward, I must plainly say that to meet that young man in battle is more than my heart would serve me for.
Miraz: Do you think I am asking you if I should be afraid to meet this Peter? If there is such a man, do you think I fear him?
Glozelle: No.
Miraz: I wanted your counsel on the policy of the matter, whether we, having the advantage, should hazard it on the wager of a battle.
Glozelle: To which I can only answer your Majesty.
Miraz: What?
Glozelle: That for all reasons, the challenge should be refused. There is death in the strange knight's face. Do not touch it, sire. And what your Majesty says of the policy of the thing comes in very happily. It gives your Majesty excellent grounds for a refusal without any cause of questioning your Majesty's honor or courage.
Miraz: Great heaven, are you also bewitched today? You are as lily-livered as hairs yourselves and have the effrontery to imagine my heart after the likeness of yours.
Miraz: And if I do refuse it, as all good reasons of captaincy and marshal policy urge me to do, you will think and teach others to think, I was afraid. Is that not so?
Glozelle: No man of your Majesty's age would be called coward by any wise soldier for refusing the combat with a great warrior in the flower of his youth.
Miraz: So, I have one foot in the grave as well as a coward, huh? I'll tell you what it is, my lords. With your womanish counsels, you have done the very opposite of your intent. I had meant to refuse it. But I'll accept it. Do you hear? Accept it. I'll not be shamed because some witchcraft or treason has frozen both your bloods. Now get out! Out!
Glozelle: Yes, your Majesty. Majesty.
Sopespian: I knew he'd do it if he were properly chafed.
Glozelle: But I'll not forget he called me coward. It shall be paid for.
Peter: Go on, Trumpkin.
Trumpkin: Well, King Peter, your brother King Edmund has chosen a place for the battle with one of Miraz's captains. They're readying it now with ropes and stakes.
Peter: Good.
Trumpkin: Two Telmarines are to stand at two of the corners and one in the middle of one side as officials of the contest. Three officials for the other two corners and the other side are to be furnished by you.
Bulgy Bear: Your Majesty, please, I'm a bear. I am. It was always a right of the bears to supply one official to a contest.
Trumpkin: Oh, don't let him. He'll go to sleep and he will suck his paws in front of the enemy too.
Peter: I can't help that, because he's quite right. The bears had that privilege.
Bulgy Bear: Yes.
Peter: It is your right, and you shall be one of the officials. But you must remember not to suck your paws.
Bulgy Bear: Of course not.
Trumpkin: Why, you're doing it this minute.
Bulgy Bear: I am not.
Trumpkin: Sire.
Peter: What?
Reepicheep: Ah, Reepicheep. I have among my people the only trumpeter in your Majesty's army. I had thought perhaps we might have been sent with the challenge. Sire, my people are grieved. Perhaps if it were your pleasure that I should be an official of the contest, it would content them.
Peter: I'm afraid it would not do, Reepicheep. Some humans are afraid of mice.
Reepicheep: I had observed it, sire.
Peter: And it would be quite unfair to Miraz to have in sight anything that might abate the edge of his courage.
Reepicheep: Your Majesty is the mirror of honor.
Peter: Right. Giant Wimbleweather and the bear and the Centaur Glenstorm shall be our officials. The combat will be at two hours afternoon. Lunch at noon precisely. Dismissed.
Trumpkin: Your Majesty. I mean no disrespect, but that is to say, you can beat him.
Peter: That's what I'm fighting him to find out.
Host (Female): Chat GPT and AI can offer you ideas and attempt to give you answers, but it can't listen with compassion, pray with you, or guide you with wisdom shaped by faith. When life feels overwhelming, real human connection matters.
Host (Female): At Focus on the Family, we believe in the power of professional help and biblical wisdom. That's why we offer a free, confidential consultation with a caring Christian counselor to walk with you through life's struggles.
Host (Female): Whether you're navigating challenges in marriage, parenting, anxiety, grief, or something else, our counselors are here to help. If you're hurting, don't wait. Hope is real and healing begins with a conversation.
Host (Female): Request your free confidential consultation today. Call 1-800 A family. That's 1-800-232-6459 or visit focusonthefamily.com/gethelp. That's focusonthefamily.com/gethelp.
Host (Female): Kids change so fast, it can be hard to keep up. That's why I love Focus on the Family's Age and Stage newsletter. Each week's email is full of biblically and clinically based tips tailored to your child's age. You can sign up today at mykidsage.com.
Host (Male): Focus on the Family Radio Theatre is made possible through the generous donations of listeners like you.
Host (Male): For more information, visit radiotheater.org or contact Focus on the Family at 1-800 A family.
Host (Male): A little before 2 o'clock, Trumpkin and the Badger sat with the rest of the creatures at the wood's edge, looking across at the gleaming line of Miraz's army, which was about two arrow shots away.
Host (Male): In between, a square space of level grass had been staked for the combat.
Host (Male): At the two far corners, stood Glozelle and Sopespian with drawn swords.
Host (Male): At the near corners were Giant Wimbleweather and the Bulgy Bear, who in spite of all their warnings, was sucking his paws and looking, to tell the truth, uncommonly silly.
Host (Male): To make up for this, Glenstorm, on the right of the arena, stock still, looked much more imposing than the Telmarine Baron who faced him on the left.
Host (Male): Peter had just shaken hands with Edmund and Doctor Cornelius, and was now walking down to the combat.
Host (Male): It was like the moment before the pistol goes off at an important race, but very much worse.
Trumpkin: I do wish Aslan had turned up before it came to this.
Badger: So do I.
Trumpkin: But look behind you. The what?
Badger: Oh, Crozier and Crocarie. What are they? They're huge.
Trumpkin: Beautiful. Like gods and goddesses.
Badger: It's the Dryads and Hamadryads and Silvans. Aslan has waked them.
Trumpkin: But there are so many. They must be hundreds, maybe thousands of them.
Badger: They'll be useful if the enemy try any treachery.
Trumpkin: But it won't help the high king very much if Miraz proves handier with his sword.
Badger: Hush.
Trumpkin: King Peter and Miraz are entering the arena.
Badger: The best man win.
Trumpkin: What did they just say?
Badger: Win.
Trumpkin: Just now, they bowed to each other and said something.
Badger: I couldn't hear.
Trumpkin: Ah, there's the signal for the fight to begin.
Badger: The two swords flashed in the sunlight.
Lucy: Well done, Peter. Oh, well done.
Susan: Now follow it up. Quick.
Trumpkin: Miraz fell back a whole pace and a half.
Badger: It looked as if the fight might be won.
Trumpkin: But then he pulled himself together, began to make real use of his height and weight.
Susan: Edmund and Caspian grew white with sickening anxiety.
Lucy: Peter's taking some dreadful knocks.
Badger: Oh, hello.
Lucy: What?
Trumpkin: What's happening now?
Lucy: They're pulling apart.
Susan: A bit tired, I'd expect.
Lucy: Watch.
Lucy: Now they're beginning again.
Trumpkin: More scientifically this time, circling round and round, feeling each other's defenses.
Badger: I'm afraid this Miraz knows his stuff.
Trumpkin: Yes, yes, come on Peter.
Badger: Oh, what was that? Oh, my old eyes missed it.
Trumpkin: The high king has pricked Miraz in the armpit, just where the armhole of the chain mail let the point through.
Lucy: First blood.
Susan: It's looking ugly again now, Peter, lift up your shield.
Lucy: He must be hurt in the left arm.
Susan: Oh, you've seen more battles than I.
Trumpkin: Was there any chance now?
Susan: Precious little.
Lucy: I suppose he might just do it.
Trumpkin: Why do we let it happen at all?
Badger: Ah. Oh, good. They've agreed to arrest.
Trumpkin: Come on, doctor. You and I may be able to do something for the high king.
Lucy: Oh, right.
Lucy: Peter, Peter, are you all right?
Peter: Yes.
Susan: Is your arm wounded?
Peter: I got the full weight of his shoulder on my shield, like a load of bricks, and the rim of the shield drove into my wrist. I don't think it's broken, but it might be a sprain. If you could tie it up very tight, I think I could manage.
Susan: Right. Hold out your wrist.
Peter: Here.
Susan: What do you think of him, Peter?
Peter: Tough. I have a chance if I can keep him on the hop till his weight and short wind come against him. To tell the truth, I haven't much chance otherwise. Give my love to, to everyone at home, Ed, if he gets me.
Susan: Peter.
Peter: Here he comes. So long, old chap. Goodbye, doctor.
Trumpkin: Good luck.
Peter: And Ed, say something especially nice to Trumpkin. He's been a brick.
Susan: You can tell him yourself, later.
Peter: Right.
Trumpkin: The high king is fighting better.
Susan: He seems to be making more use of his shield.
Lucy: That's right, Peter. Keep him moving. Make Miraz work for his strikes.
Trumpkin: You coward! Yes.
Susan: Warriors stand up and fight.
Trumpkin: Oh, I do hope he won't listen to them.
Susan: Not Peter. You don't know him.
Lucy: Oh!
Trumpkin: What?
Susan: He's taken a blow to his armpit. Peter, get up, Peter, get up!
Trumpkin: Look out, Peter. He's coming at you.
Peter: I can't look.
Susan: Don't wait. It's all right. It glanced down his right shoulder. His mail didn't break.
Trumpkin: Quite Scott, he's up again.
Lucy: Go to it, Peter, go!
Badger: Oh, what happened? How did he get up?
Trumpkin: He grabbed Miraz's arm as it came down.
Badger: There's a man for your truffle hunter. Uses his enemy's arm as another. High King, the High King.
Badger: Miraz is angry.
Trumpkin: That's good.
Badger: Come on, come on.
Trumpkin: They were certainly at it hammer and tongs now. Such a flurry of blows that it seemed impossible for either not to be killed. As the excitement grew, the shouting almost died away.
Susan: The spectators were holding their breath.
Badger: It was most horrible and most magnificent.
Lucy: Then a great shout rose from the old Narnians.
Trumpkin: Miraz was down. Not struck by Peter, but face downward, having tripped.
Trumpkin: Peter stepped back, waiting for him to rise.
Badger: Oh, bother.
Susan: Needs to be as gentle a man as he is, all that.
Trumpkin: Comes of being a knight and a high king.
Badger: Right, right.
Trumpkin: Yes, but that brute will be up again in a minute. And then...
Badger: Miraz never rose. Lord Glozelle and Lord Sopespian had their own plans ready. As soon as they saw their king down, they leapt into the arena, crying,
Lucy: Treason!
Trumpkin: Treachery!
Badger: The Narnian traitor has stabbed our king in the back while he lay helpless. To arms!
Peter: To arms!
Glozelle: To arms!
Trumpkin: Peter hardly understood what was happening. He saw two big men running towards him with drawn swords. Then the third Telmarine had leaped over the ropes on his left.
Lucy: To arms, Narnia! Treachery!
Peter: To arms!
Trumpkin: If all three had set upon Peter, he never would have spoken again. But Lord Glozelle stopped to stab his own king dead where he lay.
Trumpkin: That's for your insult this morning.
Trumpkin: Peter swung to face Lord Sopespian, slashed his legs from under him, and with the back cut of the same stroke, hit him in the head.
Susan: Edmund was now at his side.
Lucy: Narnia! Narnia! The Lion!
Trumpkin: The whole Telmarine army was rushing towards them. But now the giant was stamping forward, stooping low and swinging his club. The Centaurs charged, the dwarfs let fly their arrows, full battle was joined.
Lucy: Attack!
Susan: Attack!
Trumpkin: Come back, Reepicheep. You'll only be killed. This is no place for mice.
Trumpkin: But the ridiculous little creatures were dancing in and out among the feet of both armies, jabbing with their swords. Many a Telmarine warrior that day felt his foot suddenly pierced as if by a dozen skewers, hopped on one leg, cursing the pain, and fell, as often as not. If he fell, the mice finished him off. If he did not, someone else did. But almost before the old Narnians really warmed to their work, they found the enemy giving way. Tough-looking warriors turned white, gazing in terror behind them, and then flung down their weapons, shrieking. The war, the war, the end of the war!
Trumpkin: Soon, neither their cries nor the sound of the weapons could be heard anymore, for both were drowned in the ocean-like roar of the awakened trees, as they plunged through the ranks of Peter's army and then on in pursuit of the Telmarines. In a few minutes, all Miraz's followers were running down to the Great River in the hope of crossing the bridge to the town of Beruna and there defending themselves behind ramparts and closed gates. They reached the river, but there was no bridge. It had disappeared. Then utter panic and horror fell upon them, and they all surrendered.
Susan: We saved Peter.
Lucy: What happened to the bridge?
Host (Male): To answer that question, we have to go back a few hours to earlier that morning. Lucy and Susan had had a few hours sleep, and awoke to find Aslan standing over them.
Aslan: We will make a holiday.
Lucy: A holiday!
Susan: Splendid!
Lucy: Oh, where have the trees gone? Oh, there they are, moving towards Aslan's howl.
Host (Male): Bacchus and the Maenads, his fierce madcap girls, and Silenus, the jolly old man on the donkey, were still with them. Everyone was awake. Everyone was laughing. Flutes were playing, cymbals clashing. Animals, not talking animals, but crowding in upon them from every direction.
Aslan: Children!
Lucy: Yes, Aslan!
Aslan: Come, ride on my back again today.
Lucy: Oh, lovely.
Susan: Oh, thank you so much.
Host (Male): Both girls climbed onto the warm golden back, as they had done no one knew how many years before. Then the whole party moved off with Aslan leading. They turned a little to the right, raced down a steep hill, and found the long bridge of Beruna in front of them. Before they had begun to cross it, however, up out of the water came a great wet, bearded head, larger than a man's, crowned with rushes. It looked at Aslan, and out of its mouth came,
River God: Hail, Lord! Loose my chains.
Lucy: Who on earth is that?
Susan: I think it's the River God.
Aslan: Bacchus!
Lucy: Yes, Aslan.
Aslan: Deliver him from his chains.
Lucy: Chains? That means bridge, I expect.
Host (Male): So Bacchus and his people splashed forward into the shallow water, and a minute later the most curious things began happening. Great strong trunks of ivy came curling up all the piers of the bridge, growing up as quickly as a fire grows, wrapping the stones 'round, splitting, breaking, separating them. The walls of the bridge turned into hedges filled with hawthorn for a moment, and then disappeared as the whole thing with a rush and a rumble collapsed into the swirling water. With much splashing, screaming, and laughter, the revelers waded or swam or danced across the fall.
Lucy: Hurrah! It's the ford of Beruna again now.
Host (Male): They went up the bank on the far side and into the town. They swept on across the level fields of the North bank of the river, and at every farm, animals came out to join them. Chained dogs broke their chains, horses kicked their carts to pieces and came trotting along with them, kicking up mud and whinnying. At a well in a yard they met a man who was beating a boy. The stick burst into flower in the man's hand. He tried to drop it, but it stuck to his hand. His arm became a branch, his body the trunk of a tree, his feet took root. The boy, who'd been crying a moment before, burst out laughing and joined them. Then they came upon a school.
Schoolmaster: Now, boys, it's time to... please don't hit Jeremy Clive. As I was saying, it's time to do our multiplication tables and... Now David, don't pull faces like that. Makes you look like a little pig.
Schoolmaster: Please don't... What in the world is that noise outside?
Schoolmaster: What? Will you join us?
Lucy: Me!
Schoolmaster: Oh my. Oh, please don't. I'd love to, but I mustn't. I must stick to my work. And the children would be frightened if they saw you.
Lucy: Frightened?
Susan: Who's she talking to out the window?
Lucy: We should tell the principal she talks to people out the window when she ought to be teaching us.
Susan: Let's go see who it is.
Boys: Yeah, come on.
Host (Male): The boys all came crowding to the window. But as soon as their mean little faces looked out, Bacchus gave a great cry. And all the boys began howling with fright, and trampling one another down to get out of the door and jumped out of the windows. And it was said afterwards, whether truly or not, that those particular little boys were never seen again. But that there were a lot of very fine little pigs in that part of the country, which had never been there before.
Aslan: Now, dear heart, will you join us?
Schoolmaster: My students are gone. I suppose I can now.
Host (Male): At Beaver's Dam, they recrossed the river and came east again along the Southern bank. They came to a little cottage where a child stood in the doorway, crying.
Aslan: Why are you crying, my love?
Child: Auntie's very ill. She's going to die.
Host (Male): Aslan went to go in at the door of the cottage, but it was too small for him. So when he'd got his head through, he pushed with his shoulders, Lucy and Susan fell off when he did this, and lifted the whole house up and it fell backwards and apart. And there, still in her bed, though the bed was now in the open air, lay a little old woman, who looked as if she had dwarf blood in her. She was at death's door, but when she opened her eyes and saw the bright hairy head of the lion staring into her face, she did not scream or faint.
Old Woman: Aslan. I knew it was true. I've been waiting for this all my life. Have you come to take me away?
Aslan: Yes, dearest, but not a long journey yet.
Host (Male): And as he spoke, like the flush creeping along the underside of a cloud at sunrise, the color came back into her white face, and her eyes grew bright. And she sat up.
Old Woman: Why? I don't declare I feel the better. I think I could take a little breakfast this morning.
Schoolmaster: Here you are, mother. Drink from this.
Old Woman: This isn't water from our well. But it is delicious, whatever it is. Makes a nice change, that does. I believe I will get up now.
Aslan: Ride on me.
Old Woman: May I?
Aslan: Susan, Lucy, you two queens will have to run now.
Lucy: We'd like that just as well, thank you.
Host (Male): And so at last, with leaping and dancing and singing, with music and laughter, and roaring and barking and neighing, they all came to the place where Miraz's army stood, flinging down their swords, and holding up their hands, and Peter's army, still holding their weapons and breathing hard, stood 'round them with stern and glad faces. And the first thing that happened was that the old woman slipped off Aslan's back, and ran across to Caspian.
Caspian: Nurse?
Nurse: For she was his old nurse.
Host (Male): Next time on Prince Caspian, the return to Narnia.
Aslan: Aslan, this is Caspian, sir. You shall be King of Narnia and Emperor of the Lone Island.
Guest (Male): Caspian is now proclaimed king, and we Telmarines are to give allegiance to him.
Guest (Male): Well, you can do that if you want.
Aslan: Go through the doorway, my son.
Guest (Male): Right.
Host (Male): Prince Caspian, the Return to Narnia from The Chronicles of Narnia by CS Lewis, is a production of Focus on the Family. I'm Doug Gresham. Thank you for listening.