OF THE SLAYING OF THE DRAGON
The time was now come when the Red-Cross Knight must perform the task
which he had taken in hand. He departed therefore from the House of
Rest; nor had he journeyed far when the Lady Una said to him: “See now
the brazen tower in which my father and mother are imprisoned for fear
of the dragon, and lo! there is the watchman on the wall waiting for
good tidings.” Scarcely had she spoken when they heard a dreadful sound
of roaring, and, looking, they saw the dragon lying on the sunny side of
a hill, and he was like a hill himself, so great he was. Nor did he fail
to note the glitter of arms, for he was a watchful beast, and made all
haste to meet his enemy.
Then said the Knight to Una: “The hour is come; stand aside on yonder
hill where you may watch the battle and be safe yourself.”
Meanwhile the dragon came on, half flying and half on foot, such haste
did he make. Never was seen upon the earth so terrible a beast. He
looked like to a mountain as he came, so much of the earth did he cover,
so high did he rear himself in air, so broad a shadow did he cast. He
was covered all over with scales as of brass or iron, fitting so close
together that neither edge of sword nor point of spear could pierce
them. On either side he spread out two great wings like to the sails of
some tall ship. Behind was a great tail, wound in a hundred folds and
covering full three furlongs. Huge knots it had, each like to a shield,
and at the end were two great stings, armed each with deadliest poison.
But more cruel even than the stings were his claws, so mighty were they
and so sharp to rend asunder all that they should touch; and yet more
cruel than his claws was his monstrous head, with rows of teeth, strong
as iron, set in either jaw, while out of his throat came forth a smoking
breath with sulphurous stench. Deep set in his head were his two great
eyes, large as shields and burning with wrath as with fire, like to two
broad beacons set upon a hill to give warning of the foe’s approach to
all the shires around.
Such was the dragon to behold, and as he came on he might be seen to
rear his neck as in pride, while his scales bristled with anger—a
dreadful sight, which made even the Knight’s bold heart grow cold for a
space with fear. But not the less boldly did he address himself to the
fight. Laying his spear in rest he charged with all his might. Full on
the monster’s carcase struck the spear, but could not pierce those
scales, so stout and closely set they were. Only so shrewd was the blow
that the dragon felt the shock within: never had such been dealt to him
before, though he had met many a gallant knight in combat. So he spread
wide his wings, and, lifting himself in air, circled round till,
swooping down, he seized Knight and steed with his claws and lifted them
from the earth. For a whole bow-shot’s length he carried them, but then
was constrained to loose them, so fierce the struggle which they made.
So you may see a hawk, when he has pounced upon some bird that is too
heavy for his flight, carry his prey awhile, but is then constrained to
drop him from his claws. Again did the Knight, so restored to the earth,
charge his foe. Again did the spear glance aside, though there was the
force as of three men in the blow. Yet was not the thrust all in vain.
So fierce was the shock that the dragon was constrained to raise his
wing, and there, where the flesh was bare of shelter, the spear point
made a grisly wound. The beast caught the spear shaft with his claws and
brake it short, but the head stuck fast, while the blood poured out
amain. Then, in his rage, he vomited forth great flames of fire, and,
bending round his tail, caught the Knight’s horse by the legs, and he,
fiercely struggling to free himself, threw his rider to the ground. Ill
content with this fall, for it seemed as a dishonour to him, he snatched
his sword—of his spear he had been bereft—and smote the dragon on his
crest. The crest did not yield to the blow, so stoutly was it cased
about, but the creature felt the shock through all his mighty frame. Yet
again the Knight smote him, and once more the sword glanced aside as if
from a rock of adamant, yet was not the labour spent in vain, for now
the beast, seeking to avoid his enemy, would have raised himself in air,
but that the wounded wing could not perform its office. Then, in his
fury, he brayed aloud, and vomited forth from his throat so fierce a
flame that it scorched the face of the Knight, and set his beard on
fire, and seared his flesh through his armour. Grievous was the pain,
and scarcely to be borne, not less than that which Hercules of old
endured when the fiery robe steeped in the Centaur’s blood wrapped him
round.[1] He stood astonished and helpless. And when the dragon saw how
he fared he dealt him a great blow with his tail, and so brought him
headlong to the ground. Then, indeed, it had gone ill with him, but for
the happy chance that behind him there was a spring which sent forth a
stream of water, silvery bright and of great virtue for the healing of
all wounds and sicknesses. Men in the old time, before the dragon had
wasted the land, called it the Well of Life, and though it was now for
the most part forgotten, yet had it not lost its healing powers. It
could restore him that was wasted with sickness, ay, and raise the dead.
There was no spring on earth that could be matched with it. But of this
the dragon was unaware—how should he know of such things?—only when he
saw his adversary fall headlong into the water he clapped his wings for
joy. This the Lady Una saw from the hill whereon she sat watching the
fight. Sorely did it dismay her. Nevertheless she did not wholly lose
her hope, but prayed all night to God that it might yet be well with the
Knight.
When the next morning dawned in the sky she looked, and lo! her champion
stood all refreshed and ready for the fray. Nor did the dragon draw back
from the encounter. Straightway the Knight, lifting high his sword,
dealt a great blow at the monster’s crest, and this time, whether the
sacred spring had given a keener edge to the steel or had put new
strength into the arm which wielded it, it did that which never steel
had done before, for it made a great yawning wound. Then the dragon,
wrought to fury by the pain, lifted his tail high over his head, and
brought down upon his adversary the deadly double sting which lay in the
end. Through the shield it made its way, and fixed itself in his
shoulder. Grievous was the smart, but the Knight, thinking only of
victory and honour, did not flinch beneath it, but, gathering all his
strength, shore off the furthest joints of the tail, so that not the
half of it was left. But not yet was the battle won. For now the dragon
laid his two mighty claws upon the Knight, seizing his foot with one and
his shield with the other. Sorely was he now beset, for though with a
blow of his sword he rid himself of the one claw, the other held him
fast. At the same time there burst forth from the monsters mouth such
blasts of fire, such clouds of smoke, that he was constrained to retire
a little backward, and so, retiring, he slipped in the mire and fell.
Yet the matter turned to his good, for the same Spring of Life refreshed
and healed him as before, nor did the dragon dare to come near, for he
could not have aught to do with a thing so pure and holy. And so the
second day came to its ending.
This night also did the Lady Una pray for her Knight throughout the
hours of darkness, and the morning found her watching as before. But
with the third day came a speedy end to that fierce encounter. The
dragon, full of rage to be so baulked of his prey, ran at the Knight
with mouth wide open as if to swallow him alive. And he was not slow to
seize the occasion, for his foe had laid bare before him its most vital
part. Right into the monster’s mouth he drove his sword with all the
strength that was in him. Nor had he need to strike again, for the
monster fell as falls some cliff which the waves of the sea for many
years have worn away. High and strong it seems to stand, but it falls
far and wide in sudden ruin.
There is no need to tell in many words how the king and queen of that
land came forth from their prison with great gladness, and how the
people of the land rejoiced to be rid of so foul a tyranny, and how the
Lady Una seemed to be fairer than ever when she came forth in her robe
of state, and how the Knight and she were duly betrothed. “Fain would I
stay,” said the Knight, “but I am under promise to Queen Gloriana to
serve her for six years against the infidel.” “So be it,” said the king
of the land, “go, keep your promise as becomes a noble knight, and know
that when you shall return you shall have my daughter to wife and my
kingdom also, for this I have ever purposed in my heart, that he who
should deliver it from the foul tyranny should have it for his own, for
none could be more fit.”