Through The Stable Door
进入马棚的门
Jill ought to have been back at the white rock already but she had quite forgotten that part of her orders in the excitement of watching the fight. Now she remembered. She turned at once and ran to it， and arrived there barely a second before the others. It thus happened that all of them， for a moment， had their backs to the enemy. They all wheeled round the moment they had reached it. A terrible sight met their eyes.
A Calormene was running towards the Stable door carr ying something that kicked and struggled. As he came between them and the fire they could see clearly both the shape of the man and the shape of what he carried. It was Eustace.
Tirian and the Unicorn rushed out to rescue him. But the Calormene was now far nearer to the door then they. Before they had covered half the distance he had flung Eustace in and shut the door on him. Half a dozen more Calormenes had run up behind him. They formed a line on the open space before the Stable. There was no getting at it now.
Even then Jill remembered to keep her face turned aside， well away from her bow. “Even if I can‘t stop blubbing， I won’t get my string wet，” she said.
“‘Ware arrows，” said Poggin suddenly.
Everyone ducked and pulled his helmet well over his nose. The Dogs crouched behind. But though a few arrows came their way it soon became clear that they were not being shot at. Griffle and his Dwarfs were at their archery again. This time they were coolly shooting at the Calormenes.
“Keep it up， boys！” came Griffle’s voice. “All together. Carefully. We don‘t want Darkies any more than we want Monkeys-or Lions-or Kings. The Dwarfs are for the Dwarfs.”
Whatever else you may say about Dwarfs， no one can say they aren’t brave. They could easily have got away to some safe place. They preferred to stay and kill as many of both sides as they could， except when both sides were kind enough to save them trouble by killing one another. They wanted Narnia for their own.
What perhaps they had not taken into account was that the Calormenes were mail-clad and the Horses had had no protection. Also the Calormenes had a leader. Rishda Tarkaan‘s voice cried out：
“Thirty of you keep watch on those fools by the white rock. The rest， after me， that we may teach these Sons of Earth a lesson.”
Tirian and his friends， still panting from their fight and thankful for a few minutes’ rest， stood and looked on while the Tarkaan led his men against the Dwarfs. It was a strange scene by now. The fire had sunk lower： the light it gave was now less and of a darker red. As far as one could see， the whole place of assembly was now empty except for the Dwarf and the Calormenes. In that light one couldn‘t make out much of what was happening. It sounded as if the Dwarfs were putting up a good fight. Tirian could hear Griffle using dreadful language， and every now and then the Tarkaan calling， “Take all you can alive！ Take them alive！”
Whatever that fight may have been like， it did not last long. The noise of it died away. Then Jill saw the Tarkaan coming back to the stable： eleven men followed him， dragging eleven bound Dwarfs. （Whether the others had all been killed， or whether some of them had got away， was never known.）
“Throw them into the shrine of Tash，” said Rishda Tarkaan.
And when the eleven Dwarfs， one after the other， had been flung or kicked into that dark doorway and the door had been shut again， he bowed low to the Stable and said：
“These also are for thy burnt offering， Lord Tash.”
And all the Calormenes banged the flats of their swords on their shields and shouted， “Tash！ Tash！ The great god Tash！ Inexorable Tash！” （There was no nonsense about “Tashlan” now.）
The little party by the white rock watched these doings and whispered to one another. They had found a trickle of water coming down the rock and all had drunk eagerly-Jill and Poggin and the King in their hands， while the four-footed ones lapped from the little pool which it had made at the foot of the stone. Such was their thirst that it seemed the most delicious drink they had ever had in their lives， and while they were drinking they were perfectly happy and could not think of anything else.
“I feel in my bones，” said Poggin， “that we shall all， one by one， pass through that dark door before morning. I can think of a hundred deaths I would rather have died.”
“It is indeed a grim door，” said Tirian. “It is more like a mouth.” “Oh， can’t we do anything to stop it？” said Jill in a shaken voice. “Nay， fair friend，” said Jewel， nosing her gently. “It may be for us the
door to Aslan‘s country and we shall sup at his table tonight.”
Rishda Tarkaan turned his back on the stable and walked slowly to a place in front of the white rock.
“Hearken，” he said. “If the Boar and the Dogs and the Unicorn will come over to me and put themselves in my mercy， their lives shall be spared. The Boar shall go to a cage in the Tisroc’s garden， the Dogs to the Tisroc‘s kennels， and the Unicorn， when I have sawn his horn off， shall draw a cart. But the Eagle， the children， and he who was the King shall be offered to Tash this night.”
The only answer was growls.
“Get on， warriors，” said the Tarkaan. “Kill the beasts， but take the two-legged ones alive.”
And then the last battle of the last King of Narnia began.
What made it hopeless， even apart from the numbers of the enemy， was the spears. The Calormenes who had been with the Ape almost from the beginning had had no spears： that was because they had come into Narnia by ones and twos， pretending to be peaceful merchants， and of course they had carried no spears for a spear is not a thing you can hide. The new ones must have come in later， after the Ape was already strong and they could march openly. The spears made all the difference. With a long spear you can kill a boar before you are in reach of his tusks and a unicorn before you are in reach of his horn； if you are very quick and keep your head. And now the levelled spears were closing in on Tirian and his last friends. Next minute they were all fighting for their lives.