The Warden went up to these two， and said， as if it were a password： “Many sink down to the Underworld.”
“And few return to the sunlit lands，” they answered， as if it were the countersign. Then all three put their heads together and talked. At last one of the two gnomes-in-waiting said， “I tell you the Queen’s grace is gone from hence on her great affair. We had best keep these topdwellers in strait prison till her homecoming. Few return to the sunlit lands.”
At that moment the conversation was interrupted by what seemed to Jill the most delightful noise in the world. It came from above， from the top of the staircase； and it was a clear， ringing， perfectly human voice， the voice of a young man.
“What coil are you keeping down there， Mullugutherum？” it shouted. “Overworlders， ha！ Bring them up to me， and that presently.”
“Please it your Highness to remember，” began Mullugutherum， but the voice cut him short.
“It pleases my Highness principally to be obeyed， old mutterer. Bring them up，” it called.
Mullugutherum shook his head， motioned to the travellers to follow and began going up the staircase. At every step the light increased. There were rich tapestries hanging on the walls. The lamplight shone golden through thin curtains at the staircase-head.
The Earthmen parted the curtains and stood aside. The three passedin. They were in a beautiful room， richly tapestried， with a bright fire on a clean hearth， and red wine and cut glass sparkling on the table. A young man with fair hair rose to greet them. He was handsome and looked both bold and kind， though there was something about his face that didn‘t seem quite right. He was dressed in black and altogether looked a little bit like Hamlet.
“Welcome， Overworlders，” he cried. “But stay a moment！ I cry you mercy！ I have seen you two fair children， and this， your strange governor， before. Was it not you three that met me by the bridge on the borders of Ettinsmoor when I rode there by my Lady’s side？”
“Oh . . . you were the black knight who never spoke？” exclaimed Jill.
“And was that lady the Queen of Underland？” asked Puddleglum， in no very friendly voice. And Scrubb， who was thinking the same， burst out， “Because if it was， I think she was jolly mean to send us off to a castle of giants who intended to eat us. What harm had we ever done her， I should like to know？”
“How？” said the Black Knight with a frown. “If you were not so young a warrior， Boy， you and I must have fought to the death on this quarrel. I can hear no words against my Lady‘s honour. But of this you may be assured， that whatever she said to you， she said of a good intent. You do not know her. She is a nosegay of all virtues， as truth， mercy， constancy， gentleness， courage， and the rest. I say what I know. Her kindness to me alone， who can in no way reward her， would make an admirable history. But you shall know and love her hereafter. Meanwhile， what is your errand in the Deep Lands？”
And before Puddleglum could stop her， Jill blurted out， “Please we are trying to find Prince Rilian of Narnia.” And then she realized what a frightful risk she had taken； these people might be enemies. But the Knight showed no interest.
“Rilian？ Narnia？” he said carelessly. “Narnia？ What land is that？ I have never heard the name. It must be a thousand leagues from those parts of the Overworld that I know. But it was a strange fantasy that brought you seeking this-how do you call him？ -Billian？ Trillian？ in my Lady’s realm. Indeed， to my certain knowledge， there is no such man here.” He laughed very loudly at this， and Jill thought to herself， “I wonder is that what‘s wrong with his face？ Is he a bit silly？”
“We had been told to look for a message on the stones of the City Ruinous，” said Scrubb. “And we saw the words UNDER ME.”
The Knight laughed even more heartily than before. “You were the more deceived，” he said. “Those words meant nothing to your purpose. Had you but asked my Lady， she could have given you better counsel. For those words are all that is left of a longer script， which in ancient times， as she well remembers， expressed this verse：
Though under Earth and throneless now I be， Yet， while I lived， all Earth was under me.
From which it is plain that some great king of the ancient giants， who lies buried there， caused this boast to be cut in the stone over his sepulchre； though the breaking up of some stones， and the carrying away of others for new buildings， and the filling up of the cuts with rubble， has left only two words that can still be read. Is it not the merriest jest in the world that you should have thought they were written to you？”
This was like cold water down the back to Scrubb and Jill； for it seemed to them very likely that the words had nothing to do with their quest at all， and that they had been taken in by a mere accident.
“Don’t you mind him，” said Puddleglum. “There are no accidents. Our guide is Aslan； and he was there when the giant King caused the letters to be cut， and he knew already all things that would come of them； including this.”
“This guide of yours must be a long liver， friend，” said the Knight with another of his laughs.
Jill began to find them a little irritating.
“And it seems to me， Sir，” answered Puddleglum， “that this Lady of yours must be a long liver too， if she remembers the verse as it was when they first cut it.”
