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For it was in this pool that the Hermit looked when he wanted to know what was going on in the world outside the green walls of his hermitage. There, as in a mirror, he could see, at certain times, what was going on in the streets of cities far farther south than Tashbaan, or what ships were putting into Redhaven in the remote Seven Isles, or what robbers or wild beasts stirred in the great Western forests between Lantern Waste and Telmar. And all this day he had hardly left his pool, even to eat or drink, for he knew that great events were on foot in Archenland. Aravis and the Horses gazed into it too. They could see it was a magic pool: instead of reflecting the tree and the sky it revealed cloudy and coloured shapes moving, always moving, in its depths. But they could see nothing clearly. The Hermit could and from time to time he told them what he saw. A little while before Shasta rode into his first battle, the Hermit had begun speaking like this:
"I see one-two-three eagles wheeling in the gap by Stormness Head. One is the oldest of all the eagles. He would not be out unless battle was at hand. I see him wheel to and fro, peering down sometimes at Anvard and sometimes to the east, behind Stormness. Ah-I see now what Rabadash and his men have been so busy at all day.They have felled and lopped a great tree and they are now coming out of the woods carrying it as a ram. They have learned something from the failure of last night s assult. He would have been wiser if he had set his men to making ladders: but it takes too long and he is impatient. Fool that he is ! He ought to have ridden back to Tashbaan as soon as the first attack failed, for his whole plan depended on speed and surprise. Now they are bringing their ram into position. King Lune s men are shooting hard from the walls. Five Calormenes have fallen: but not many will. They have their shields above their heads. Rabadash is giving his orders now. With him are his most trusted lords, fierce Tarkaans from the eastern provinces. I can see their faces. There is Corradin of Castle Tormunt, and Azrooh, and Chlamash, and Ilgamuth of the twisted lip, and a tall Tarkaan with a crimson beard—"
"By the Mane,my old master Anradin !"said Bree. "S-s-sh"said Aravis.
"Now the ram has started.If I could hear as well as see, what a noise that would make ! Stroke after stroke: and no gate can stand it for ever.But wait ! Something up by Stormness has scared the birds.They re coming out in masses.And wait again--- I can't see yet---ah !Now I can.The whole ridge, up on the east,is black with horsemen. If only the wind would catch that standard and spread it out.They re over the ridge now,whoever they are.Aha !I ve seen the banner now. Narnia,Narnia ! It s the red lion.They re in full career down the hill now. I can see King Edmund. There s a woman behind among the archers.Oh !—"
"What is it ?"asked Hwin breathlessly.
"All his Cats are dashing out from the left of the line."
"Cats ?"said Aravis. "Great cats, leopards and such," said the Hermit impatiently."I see, I see. The Cats are coming round in a circle to get at the horses of the dismounted men. A good stroke. The Calormene horses are mad with terror already. Now the Cats are in among them. But Rabadash has reformed his line and has a hundred men in the saddle. They re riding to meet the Narnians. There s only a hundred yards between the two lines now. Only fifty. I can see King Edmund, I can see the Lord Peridan. There are two mere children in the Narnian line. What can the King be about to let them into battle ? Only ten yards-the lines have met. The Giants on the Narnian right are doing wonders-but one s down-shot through the eye, I suppose. The centre s all in a muddle. I can see more on the left. There are the two boys again. Lion alive ! one is Prince Corm. The other, like him as two peas. It s your little Shasta. Corm is fighting like a man. He s killed a Calormene. I can see a bit of the centre now. Rabadash and Edmund almost met then, but the press has separated them—"
"What about Shasta ?"said Aravis.
"Oh the fool !"groaned the Hermit.,Poor, brave little fool. He knows nothing about this work. He s making no use at all of his shield.His whole side s exposed.He hasn t the faintest idea what to do with his sword. Oh, he s remembered it now. He s waving it wildly about- nearly cut his own pony s head off, and he will in a moment if he s not careful. It s been knocked out of his hand now. It s mere murder sending a child into the battle;he can't live five minutes. Duck you fool-oh, he s down."
