The Dragon of Wantley: His Tale

by Owen Wister

  CHAPTER IV

  Tells all about him

  In those days of shifting fortunes, of turbulence and rapine, ofknights-errant and minstrels seeking for adventure and love, and ofsolitary pilgrims and bodies of pious men wandering over Europe toproclaim that the duty of all was to arise and quell the pagandefilers of the Holy Shrine, good men and bad men, undoubted saintsand unmistakable sinners, drifted forward and back through everycountry, came by night and by day to every household, and lived theirlives in that unbounded and perilous freedom that put them at onemoment upon the top limit of their ambition or their delight, andplunged them into violent and bloody death almost ere the moment wasgone. It was a time when "fatten at thy neighbour's expense" was theone commandment observed by many who outwardly maintained a profoundrespect for the original ten; and any man whose wit taught him howthis commandment could be obeyed with the greatest profit and theleast danger was in high standing among his fellows.

  Hence it was that Francis Almoign, Knight of the Voracious Stomach,cumbered with no domestic ties worthy of mention, a tall slim fellowwho knew the appropriate hour to slit a throat or to wheedle a maid,came to be Grand Marshal of the Guild of Go-as-you-Please.

  This secret band, under its Grand Marshal, roved over Europe andthrived mightily. Each member was as stout hearted a villain as youcould see. Sometimes their doings came to light, and they were forcedto hasten across the borders of an outraged territory into newpastures. Yet they fared well in the main, for they could fight anddrink and sing; and many a fair one smiled upon them, in spite oftheir perfectly outrageous morals.

  So, one day, they came into the neighbourhood of Oyster-le-Main, wheremuch confusion reigned among the good monks. Sir Godfrey Disseisinover at Wantley had let Richard Lion Heart depart for the Holy Warswithout him. "Like father like son," the people muttered in theirdiscontent. "Sure, the Church will gravely punish this secondoffence." To all these whisperings of rumour the Grand Marshal of theGuild paid fast attention; for he was a man who laid his plans deeply,and much in advance of the event. He saw the country was fat and theneighbours foolish. He took note of the handsome tithes that came into Oyster-le-Main for the support of the monks. He saw all thesethings, and set himself to thinking.

  Upon a stormy afternoon, when the light was nearly gone out of thesky, a band of venerable pilgrims stood at the great gates of theMonastery. Their garments were tattered, their shoes were in saddisrepair. They had walked (they said) all the way from Jerusalem.Might they find shelter for the night? The tale they told, and themere sight of their trembling old beards, would have melted hearts farharder than those which beat in the breasts of the monks ofOyster-le-Main. But above all, these pilgrims brought with them asconvincing proofs of their journey a collection of relics andtalismans (such as are to be met with only in Eastern countries) ofgreat wonder and virtue. With singular generosity, which theyexplained had been taught them by the Arabs, they presented many ofthese treasures to the delighted inmates of the Monastery, whohastened to their respective cells,--this one reverently cherishing atuft of hair from the tail of one of Daniel's lions; another handlingwith deep fervour a strip of the coat of many colours once worn by theexcellent Joseph. But the most extraordinary relic among them all wasthe skin of a huge lizard beast, the like of which none in England hadever seen. This, the Pilgrims told their hosts, was no less a thingthan a crocodile from the Nile, the renowned river of Moses. It hadbeen pressed upon them, as they were departing from the City ofDamascus, by a friend, a blameless chiropodist, whose name was OmarKhayyam. He it was who eked out a pious groat by tending the feet ofall outward and inward bound pilgrims. Seated at the entrance of hishumble booth, with the foot of some holy man in his lap, he wouldspeak words of kindness and wisdom as he reduced the inflammation. Oneof his quaintest sayings was, "If the Pope has bid thee wear hair nextthy bare skin, my son, why, clap a wig over thy shaven scalp." So themonks in proper pity and kindness, when they had shut the great gatesas night came down, made their pilgrim guests welcome to bide atOyster-le-Main as long as they pleased. The solemn bell for retiringrolled forth in the darkness with a single deep clang, and the soundwent far and wide over the neighbouring district. Those peasants whowere still awake in their scattered cottages, crossed themselves asthey thought, "The holy men at Oyster-le-Main are just now going totheir rest."

  And thus the world outside grew still, and the thick walls of theMonastery loomed up against the stars.

  Deep in the midnight, many a choking cry rang fearfully through thestony halls, but came not to the outer air; and the waning moon shonefaintly down upon the enclosure of the garden, where worked a band ofsilent grave-diggers, clad in black armour, and with blood-red hands.The good country folk, who came at early morning with their presentsof poultry and milk, little guessed what sheep's clothing the graycowls and gowns of Oyster-le-Main had become in a single night, norwhat impious lips those were which now muttered blessings over theirbent heads.

  The following night, hideous sounds were heard in the fields, andthose who dared to open their shutters to see what the matter was,beheld a huge lizard beast, with fiery breath and accompanied byrattling thunder, raging over the soil, which he hardly seemed totouch!

  In this manner did the dreaded Dragon of Wantley make his appearance,and in this manner did Sir Francis Almoign, Knight of the VoraciousStomach, stand in the shoes of that Father Anselm whom he had put socomfortably out of the way under the flower-beds in the Monasterygarden,--and never a soul in the world except his companions in orgyto know the difference. He even came to be welcome at Sir Godfrey'stable; for after the Dragon's appearance, the Baron grew civil to allmembers of the Church. By day this versatile sinner, the GrandMarshal, would walk in the sight of the world with staid step, clothedin gray, his hood concealing his fierce, unchurchly eyes; by night,inside the crocodile skin, he visited what places he chose, unhinderedby the terrified dwellers, and after him came his followers of theGuild to steal the plunder and bear it back inside the walls ofOyster-le-Main. Never in all their adventures had these superbmiscreants been in better plight; but now the trouble had begun, asyou are going to hear. We return to Hubert and the company.

  "Hubert and all of you," said Father Anselm, or rather Sir Francis,the Grand Marshal, as we know him to be, "they say that whom the godsdesire to destroy, him do they first make drunk with wine."

  "The application! the application!" they shouted in hoarse andmirthful chorus, for they were certainly near that state favourable todestruction by the gods. One black fellow with a sliding gait ran intothe closet and brought a sheet of thin iron, and a strange torch-liketube, which he lighted at the fire and blew into from the other end. Aplume of spitting flame immediately shot far into the air.

  Hubert Looketh out of ye Window]

  "Before thy sermon proceeds, old Dragon," he said, puffing unsteadybut solemn breaths between his words, "wrap up in lightning andthunder that we may be--may be--lieve what you say." Then he shook theiron till it gave forth a frightful shattering sound. The GrandMarshal said not a word. With three long steps he stood towering infront of the man and dealt him a side blow under the ear with hissteel fist. He fell instantly, folding together like somethingboneless, and lay along the floor for a moment quite still, exceptthat some piece in his armour made a light rattling as though therewere muscles that quivered beneath it. Then he raised himself slowlyto a bench where his brothers sat waiting, soberly enough. Only youngHubert grinned aside to his neighbour, who, perceiving it, kept hiseyes fixed as far from that youth as possible.

  "Thy turn next, if art not careful, Hubert," said Sir Francis veryquietly, as he seated himself.

  "Wonder of saints!" Hubert thought secretly, not moving at all, "howcould he have seen that?"

  "'Tis no small piece of good fortune," continued the Grand Marshal,"that some one among us can put aside his slavish appetites, and keepa clear eye on the watch against misadventure. Here is my news. That
hotch-pot of lies we set going among the people has fallen foul ofus. The daughter of Sir Godfrey has heard our legend, and last weektold her sire that to-night she would follow it out to the letter, andmeet the Dragon of Wantley alone in single combat."

  "Has she never loved any man?" asked one.

  "She fulfils every condition."

  "Who told her?"

  "That most consummate of fools, the Mistletoe," said the GrandMarshal.

  "What did Sir Godfrey do upon that?" inquired Hubert.

  "He locked up his girl and chained the Governess to a rock, where shehas remained in deadly terror ever since, but kept fat for me todevour her. Me!" and Sir Francis permitted himself to smile, thoughnot very broadly.

  "How if Sir Dragon had found the maid chained instead of the ancientwidow?" Hubert said, venturing to tread a little nearer to familiarityon the strength of the amusement which played across the GrandMaster's face.

  "Ah, Hubert boy," he replied, "I see it is not in the Spring only,but in Autumn and Summer and Winter as well, that thy fancy turns tothoughts of love. Did the calendar year but contain a fifth season, inthat also wouldst thou be making honey-dew faces at somebody."

  But young Hubert only grinned, and closed his flashing eyes a little,in satisfaction at the character which had been given him.

  "Time presses," Sir Francis said. "By noon we shall receive animportant visit. There has been a great sensation at Wantley. Thecountry folk are aroused; the farmers have discovered that the secretof our legend has been revealed to Miss Elaine. Not one of the clownswould have dared reveal it himself, but all rejoice in the bottom oftheir hearts that she knows it, and chooses to risk battle with theDragon. Their honest Saxon minds perceive the thrift of such anarrangement. Therefore there is general anxiety and disturbance toknow if Sir Godfrey will permit the conflict. The loss of hisMalvoisie tried him sorely,--but he remains a father."

  "That's kind in him," said Hubert.

  Sir Francis turned a cold eye on Hubert. "As befits a clean-bloodedman," he proceeded, "I have risen at the dawn and left you wine-potsin your thick sleep. From the wood's edge over by Wantley I've watchedthe Baron come eagerly to an upper window in his white night-shift.And when he looks out on Mistletoe and sees she is not devoured, hebursts into a rage that can be plainly seen from a distance. These sixmornings I laughed so loud at this spectacle, that I almost feareddiscovery. Next, the Baron visits his daughter, only to find her fooduntasted and herself silent. I fear she is less of a fool than therest. But now his paternal heart smites him, and he has let her out.Also the Governess is free."

  "Such a girl as that would not flinch from meeting our Dragon," saidHubert; "aye, or from seeking him."

  "She must never meet the Dragon," Sir Francis declared. "What could Ido shut up in the crocodile, and she with a sword, of course?"

  They were gloomily silent.

  "I could not devour her properly as a dragon should. Nor could I carryher away," pursued Sir Francis.

  Here Hubert, who had gone to the window, returned hastily, exclaiming,"They are coming!"

  "Who are coming?" asked several.

  "The Baron, his daughter, the Governess, and all Wantley at theirbacks, to ask our pious advice," said the Grand Marshal. "Quick, intoyour gowns, one and all! Be monks outside, though you stay menunderneath." For a while the hall was filled with jostling grayfigures entangled in the thick folds of the gowns, into which thearms, legs, and heads had been thrust regardless of direction; thearmour clashed invisible underneath as the hot and choked members ofthe Guild plunged about like wild animals sewed into sacks, in theirstruggles to reappear in decent monastic attire. The winged crocodilewas kicked into the closet, after it were hurled the thunder machineand the lightning torch, and after them clattered the cups and thesilver rundlet. Barely had Hubert turned the key, when knocking at thefar-off gate was heard.

  "Go down quickly, Hubert," said the Grand Marshal, "and lead them allhere."

  Presently the procession of laity, gravely escorted by Hubert, beganto file into the now barren-looking room, while the monks stood withhands folded, and sang loudly what sounded to the uninstructed ears ofeach listener like a Latin hymn.