The Fight At Anvard
在安发德的战斗
By about eleven o’clock the whole company was once more on the march， riding westward with the mountains on their left. Corin and Shasta rode right at the rear with the Giants immediately in front of them. Lucy and Edmund and Peridan were busy with their plans for the battle and though Lucy once said， “But where is his goosecap Highness？” Edmund only replied， “Not in the front， and that‘s good news enough. Leave well alone.”
Shasta told Corin most of his adventures and explained that he had learned all his riding from a horse and didn’t really know how to use the reins. Corin instructed him in this， besides telling him all about their secret sailing from Tashbaan.
“And where is the Queen Susan？”
“At Cair Paravel，” said Corin. “She‘s not like Lucy， you know， who’s as good as a man， or at any rate as good as a boy. Queen Susan is more like an ordinary grown-up lady. She doesn‘t ride to the wars， though she is an excellent archer.”
The hillside path which they were following became narrower all the time and the drop on their right hand became steeper. At last they were going in single file along the edge of a precipice and Shasta shuddered to think that he had done the same last night withoutknowing it. “But of course，” he thought， “I was quite safe. That is why the Lion kept on my left. He was between me and the edge all the time.”
Then the path went left and south away from the cliff and there were thick woods on both sides of it and they went steeply up and up into the pass. There would have been a splendid view from the top if it were open ground but among all those trees you could see nothing- only， every now and then， some huge pinnacle of rock above the tree- tops， and an eagle or two wheeling high up in the blue air.
“They smell battle，” said Corin， pointing at the birds. “They know we’re preparing a feed for them.”
Shasta didn‘t like this at all.
When they had crossed the neck of the pass and come a good deal lower they reached more open ground and from here Shasta could see all Archenland， blue and hazy， spread out below him and even （he thought） a hint of the desert beyond it. But the sun， which had perhaps two hours or so to go before it set， was in his eyes and he couldn’t make things out distinctly.
Here the army halted and spread out in a line， and there was a great deal of rearranging. A whole detachment of very dangerous- looking Talking Beasts whom Shasta had not noticed before and who were mostly of the cat kind （leopards， panthers， and the like） went padding and growling to take up their positions on the left. The giants were ordered to the right， and before going there they all took off something they had been carrying on their backs and sat down for amoment. Then Shasta saw that what they had been carrying and were now putting on were pairs of boots： horrid， heavy， spiked boots which came up to their knees. Then they sloped their huge clubs over their shoulders and marched to their battle position. The archers， with Queen Lucy， fell to the rear and you could first see them bending their bows and then hear the twang-twang as they tested the strings. And wherever you looked you could see people tightening girths， putting
on helmets， drawing swords， and throwing cloaks to the ground. There was hardly any talking now. It was very solemn and very dreadful. “I‘min for it now-I really am in for it now，” thought Shasta. Then there came noises far ahead： the sound of many men shouting and a steady thud-thud-thud.
“Battering ram，” whispered Corin. “They’re battering the gate.”
Even Corin looked quite serious now.
“Why doesn‘t King Edmund get on？” he said. “I can’ stand this waiting about. Chilly too.”
Shasta nodded： hoping he didn‘t look as frightened as he felt.
The trumpet at last！ On the move now-now trotting-the banner streaming out in the wind. They had topped low ridge now， and below them the whole scene suddenly opened out； a little， many-towered castle with its gate towards them. No moat， unfortunately， but of course the gate shut and the portcullis down. On the walls they could see， like little white dots， the faces of the defenders. Down below， about fifty of the Calormenes， dismounted， were steadily swinging a great tree trunk against the gate. But at once the scene changed. The main bulk of Rabadash’s men had been on foot ready to assault the gate. But now he had seen the Narnians sweeping down from the ridge. There is no doubt those Calormenes are wonderfully trained. It seemed to Shasta only a second before a whole line of the enemy were on horseback again， wheeling round to meet them， swinging towards them.
And now a gallop. The ground between the two armies grew less every moment. Faster， faster. All swords out now， all shields up to the nose， all prayers said， all teeth clenched. Shasta was dreadfully frightened. But it suddenly came into his head， “If you funk this， you‘ll funk every battle all your life. Now or never.”
But when at last the two lines met he had really very littler idea of what happened. There was a frightful confusion and an appalling noise. His sword was knocked clean out of his hand pretty soon. And he’d got the reins tangled somehow. Then he found himself slipping. Then a spear came straight at him and as he ducked to avoid it he rolled right off his horse， bashed his left knuckles terribly against someone else‘s armour， and then-But it is no use trying to describe the battle from Shasta’s point of view； he understood too little of the fight in general and even of his own part in it. The best way I can tell you what really happened is to take you some miles away to where the Hermit of the Southern March sat gazing into the smooth pool beneath the spreading tree， with Bree and Hwin and Aravis beside him.
