I was deprived as a child. Deprived, that is, of the Narnia books of C.S.Lewis, (apart from a copy of The Silver Chair , for some reason) so it’s been a particular pleasure to discover them in my early thirties. I accounted for The Magician’s Nephew , Lewis’s retrospectively-written prelude, about a month ago, and polished off The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe in several evenings at bedtime, when my critical faculties had gone to sleep about half an hour before I did, so this is the first opportunity I’ve had to exercise my grey matter on Lewis’s output.

Fifth in the Narnia series to be written, The Horse and His Boy takes third place in the reading order suggested by Lewis; in fact, as becomes apparent in the later chapters of the book, the story takes place during the events of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. It begins with Shasta, the titular boy, indentured to the cruel fisherman Arsheesh, who takes the opportunity to run away presented when he encounters a talking horse, brought by a visiting stranger who attempts to persuade Arsheesh to sell Shasta to him. The horse, Bree, turns out to be an enslaved Narnian horse, and together the horse and his boy make a break for Narnia and their freedom. Thrown together with the runaway princess Aravis and her similarly loquacious mount Hwin, they endeavour to reach Narnia but on the way discover a plot to attack the neighbouring Archenland and ultimately Narnia itself.

The Horse and His Boy is a tale of flight from captivity to destiny; on the way, Shasta learns his true identity and by the end of the story has come into his inheritance; Aravis escapes a politically-arranged marriage to learn that indifference to others has consequences and that her actions have consequences. It takes place against a backdrop far more complex than that of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe; indeed, for a novel first published in the same year as The Fellowship of the Ring, it is difficult not to see a certain amount of cross-fertilisation taking place between the friends and professional colleagues Lewis and Tolkien. The Horse and His Boy takes place in a far more political context, as the pseudo-Arabian Calormenes have their own distinctly defined culture and values, but their aristocrats are not above conspiracy and ruthlessness; the Tisroc may be the undisputed sovereign, but it suits his purposes to send his son Rabadash on a mission which can be disowned if it fails, as ruling Tisrocs have an unfortunate habit of being murdered by ambitious sons. It is also hard not to think of The Two Towers during the stages where Shasta and Aravis race against time to warn Archenland of the approaching attack and the subsequent defence of the fortress of Anvard, relieved at the last minute by a marvellously rag-tag force from Narnia.

This is, however, to distract attention from the fact that The Horse and His Boy is thoroughly enjoyable in its own right. The plot is taut and exciting and the principal characters well-drawn. Particularly effective is the depiction of Calormene society; while this is drawn with broad strokes from the Arabian Nights, it works beautifully as an attempt at depicting a society which is almost completely different from Narnia and yet is credible as a near neighbour. Each incident and location on Shasta and Aravis’s journey is memorably described, and yet this is without taking into account the moral values which Lewis brings into his fictional world. Never didactic, Lewis does however force his characters to reflect on the nature of their actions, nowhere more so than in the episode where Aravis is made to reflect on the punishment visited on the maidservant she lured into her escape plot. One of the reasons why the Narnia books are such a joy is that they take place in a world of wonders and marvels, and yet it is a world where diversity and harmony will always triumph over cruelty and force of arms. Another is that they are perhaps without parallel as tales which combine adventure with morality and lovingly described fantasy with values which are continually relevant to life, whether as adults or children. It’s a wonderful tale, though, and I read it over a weekend.

Roll on Prince Caspian. And that’s an order.