Glozelle‘s face grew ugly. “Not forgetting，” said he， “that it was we who first put him on the throne. And in all the years that he has enjoyed it， what fruits have come our way？ What gratitude has he shown us？”
“Say no more，” answered Sopespian. “But look-here comes one to fetch us to the King’s tent.”
When they reached Miraz‘s tent they saw Edmund and his two companions seated outside it and being entertained with cakes and wine， having already delivered the challenge， and withdrawn while the King was considering it. When they saw them thus at close quarters the two Telmarine lords thought all three of them very alarming.
Inside， they found Miraz， unarmed and finishing his breakfast. His face was flushed and there was a scowl on his brow.
“There！” he growled， flinging the parchment across the table to them. “See what a pack of nursery tales our jackanapes of a nephew has sent us.”
“By your leave， Sire，” said Glozelle. “If the young warrior whom we have just seen outside is the King Edmund mentioned in the writing， then I would not call him a nursery tale but a very dangerous knight.”
“King Edmund， pah！” said Miraz. “Does your Lordship believe those old wives’ fables about Peter and Edmund and the rest？”
“I believe my eyes， your Majesty，” said Glozelle.
“Well， this is to no purpose，” said Miraz， “but as touching the challenge， I suppose there is only one opinion between us？”
“I suppose so， indeed， Sire，” said Glozelle. “And what is that？” asked the King.
“Most infallibly to refuse it，” said Glozelle. “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. And if （as is likely） his brother， the High King， is more dangerous than he-why， on your life， my Lord King， have nothing to do with him.”
“Plague on you！” cried Miraz. “It was not that sort of council I wanted. 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？ I wanted your counsel of the policy of the matter； whether we， having the advantage， should hazard it on a wager of battle.”
“To which I can only answer， your Majesty，” said Glozelle， “that for all reasons the challenge should be refused. There is death in the strange knight‘s face.”
“There you are again！” said Miraz， now thoroughly angry. “Are you trying， to make it appear that I am as great a coward as your Lordship？”
“Your Majesty may say your pleasure，” said Glozelle sulkily.
“You talk like an old woman， Glozelle，” said the King. “What say you， my Lord Sopespian？”
“Do not touch it， Sire，” was the reply. “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 for questioning your Majesty’s honour or courage.”
“Great Heaven！” exclaimed Miraz， jumping to his feet. “Are you also bewitched today？ Do you think I am looking for grounds to refuse it？ You might as well call me coward to my face.”
The conversation was going exactly as the two lords wished， so they said nothing.
“I see what it is，” said Miraz， after staring at them as if his eyes would start out of his head， “you are as lily-livered as hares yourselves and have the effrontery to imagine my heart after the likeness of yours！ Grounds for a refusal， indeed！ Excuses for not fighting！ Are you soldiers？ Are you Telmarines？ Are you men？ And if I dog refuse it （as ail good reasons of captaincy and martial policy urge me to do） you will think， and teach others tan think， I was afraid. Is it not so？”
“No man of your Majesty‘s age，” said Glozelle， “would be called coward by any wise soldier for refusing the combat with a great warrior in the flower of his youth.”
“So I’m to be a dotard with one foot in the grave， as well as a dastard，” roared Miraz. “I‘ll tell you what it is， my Lords. With your womanish counsels （ever shying from the true point， which is one of policy） 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.”
“We beseech your Majesty-” said Glozelle， but Miraz had flung out of the tent and they could hear him bawling out his acceptance to Edmund.
The two lords looked at one another and chuckled quietly.
“I knew he’d do it if he were properly chafed，” said Glozelle. “But I‘ll not forget he called me coward. It shall be paid for.”
There was a great stirring at Aslan’s How when the news came back and was communicated to the various creatures. Edmund， with one of Miraz‘s captains， had already marked out the place for the combat， andropes and stakes had been put round it. Two Telmarines were to stand at two of the corners， and one in the middle of one side， as marshals of the lists. Three marshals for the other two corners and the other side were to be furnished by the High King. Peter was just explaining to Caspian that he could not be one， because his right to the throne was what they were fighting about， when suddenly a thick， sleepy voice said， “Your Majesty， please.” Peter turned and there stood the eldest of the Bulgy Bears. “If you please， your Majesty，” he said， “I’m a bear， I am.”
“To be sure， so you are， and a good bear too， I don‘t doubt，” said Peter. “Yes，” said the Bear. “But it was always a right of the， bears tosupply one marshal of the lists.”
“Don’t let him，” whispered Trumpkin to Peter. “He‘s a good creature， but he’ll shame us all. He‘ll go to sleep and he will suck his paws. In front of the enemy too.”
“I can’t help that，” said Peter. “Because he‘s quite right. The Bears had that privilege. I can’t imagine how it has been remembered all these years， when so many other things have been forgotten.”
“Please， your Majesty，” said the Bear.
“It is your right，” said Peter. “And you shall be one of the marshals. But you must remember not to suck your paws.”
“Of course not，” said the Bear in a very shocked voice. “Why， you‘re doing it this minute！” bellowed Trumpkin.
The Bear whipped his paw out of his mouth and pretended he hadn’t heard.
“Sire！” came a shrill voice from near the ground.
“Ah-Reepicheep！” said Peter after looking up and down and round as people usually did when addressed by the Mouse.
