In The Witch s House
女巫的宫殿
And now of course you want to know what had happened to Edmund. He had eaten his share of the dinner， but he hadn’t really enjoyed it because he was thinking all the time about Turkish Delight-and there‘s nothing that spoils the taste of good ordinary food half so much as the memory of bad magic food. And he had heard the conversation， and hadn’t enjoyed it much either， because he kept on thinking that the others were taking no notice of him and trying to give him the cold shoulder. They weren‘t， but he imagined it. And then he had listened until Mr Beaver told them about Aslan and until he had heard the whole arrangement for meeting Aslan at the Stone Table. It was then that he began very quietly to edge himself under the curtain which hung over the door. For the mention of Aslan gave him a mysterious and horrible feeling just as it gave the others a mysterious and lovely feeling.
Just as Mr Beaver had been repeating the rhyme about Adam’s flesh and Adam‘s bone Edmund had been very quietly turning the door-handle； and just before Mr Beaver had begun telling them that the White Witch wasn’t really human at all but half a Jinn and half a giantess， Edmund had got outside into the snow and cautiously closed the door behind him.
You mustn‘t think that even now Edmund was quite so bad that he actually 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 back for calling him a beast. As for what the Witch would do with the others， he didn’t want her to be particularly nice to them- certainly not to put them on the same level as himself； but he managed to believe， or to pretend he believed， that she wouldn‘t do anythingvery 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 jolly nice to me， anyway， much nicer than they are. I expect 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， for deep down inside him he really knew that the White Witch was bad and cruel.
The first thing he realized， when he got outside and found the snow falling all round him， was that he had left his coat behind in the Beavers‘ house. 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， for it had been nearly three o’clock when they sat down to dinner and the winter days were short. He hadn‘t reckoned on this； but he had to make the best of it. So he turned up his collar and shuffled across the top of the dam （luckily it wasn’t so slippery since the snow had fallen） to the far side of the river.
It was pretty bad when he reached the far side. It was growing darker every minute and what with that and the snowflakes swirling all round him he could hardly see three feet ahead. And then too there was no road. He kept slipping into deep drifts of snow， and skidding on frozen puddles， and tripping over fallen tree-trunks， and sliding down steep banks， and barking his shins against rocks， till he was wet and cold and bruised all over. The silence and the loneliness weredreadful. 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 happened to say to himself， “When I’m King of Narnia the firstthing I shall do will be to make some decent roads.” And of course that set him off thinking about being a King and all the other things he would do and this cheered him up a good deal. He had just settled in his mind what sort of palace he would have and how many cars and all about his private cinema and where the principal railways would run and what laws he would make against beavers and dams and was putting the finishing touches to some schemes for keeping Peter in his place， when the weather changed. First the snow stopped. Then a wind sprang up and it became freezing cold. Finally， the clouds rolled away and the moon came out. It was a full moon and， shining on all that snow， it made everything almost as bright as day-only the shadowswere rather confusing.
He would never have found his way if the moon hadn‘t come out by the time he got to the other river-you remember he had seen （when they first arrived at the Beavers’） a smaller river flowing into the great one lower down. He now reached this and turned to follow it up. But the little valley down which it came was much steeper and rockier than the one he had just left and much overgrown with bushes， so that he could not have managed it at all in the dark. Even as it was， he got wet through for he had to stoop under branches， and great loads of snow came sliding off on to his back. And every time this happened he thought more and more how he hated Peter-just as if all this had been Peter‘s fault.
But at last he came to a part where it was more level and the valley opened out. And there， on the other side of the river， quite close to him， in the middle of a little plain between two hills， he saw what must be the White Witch’s House. And the moon was shining brighter than ever. The House was really a small castle. It seemed to be all towers； little towers with long pointed spires on them， sharp as needles. They looked like huge dunce‘s caps or sorcerer’s caps. And 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. There was nothingstirring； not the slightest sound anywhere. Even his own feet made no noise on the deep newly-fallen snow. He walked on and on， past corner after corner of the House， and past turret after turret to find the door. He had to go right round to the far side before he found it. It was a huge arch but the great iron gates stood wide open.