The Dragon's Prophecy

by David Noel

  “You killed a dragon?” Her mother asked in a stunned voice.

  “Yes, the Black, it was the mate of the Red that Dad killed many years ago, Brendan and I killed it together.”

  “The two of you really killed a dragon,” said Lady Evelyn, still in disbelief.

  “Yes, momma, they really did kill a dragon,” said Marcia. Portia glanced at her suspiciously but there didn’t seem to be any sarcasm or hidden put down. What was her sister up to? Marcia caught her sneaking sideways looks at her. “I owe you my life, remember? You said so yourself. The least I can do is give you a little support at a time like this.” Marcia turned back to their mother, “Two more things, first; Portia and Brendan have ‘an understanding’ now so all you need to do is give the word and they can be betrothed. Second; when can we eat?”

  The handmaiden looked at her sister in surprise. “I wanted to tell mom about our understanding.” The two girls glared at each other for a moment before Portia continued, “And how can you ask, ‘When do we eat?’ Don’t you care about Dad?” She turned back toward her mother, “Mom, have you heard anything?”

  “Not yet,” the Gray Lady responded, concern etched into every line in her face. “Let’s get inside and feed you some dinner. I want to hear your story and I definitely want to hear about your ‘understanding’.”

  It was hours later after several recountings of the tale from different perspectives with a great crowd listening and asking questions at each point before the evening began to wind down. Everyone examined the dragon teeth, dragon hide, and Brendan’s altered sword, touching each one and remarking on them all.

  “What will you call it?” Lady Evelyn asked as she ran her finger down the dark, smoky purple blade of the sword.

  “Call it?” Brendan mused. He hadn’t really thought about it, it was simply his sword, even now that it was different.

  “You must call it some great name. This sword has become a unique weapon that has been used by God to do great things. It has been used twice to help kill dragons.”

  “I know!” Interrupted Marcia, “You should call it Dragon Bane.”

  “This sword may have been involved in fighting two different dragons, but it was not the weapon that actually killed either one. Sir Gerard’s lance struck the killing blow against the Red; it just took it a little bit longer to die so he helped it along with this sword. As for the Black, Portia killed it with her bow and the war arrows, this sword really just served as a distraction.” Brendan thought for several minutes. He was not comfortable with the idea of treating the sword as if it were some magic trinket that could be waved around to defeat your enemies. He suddenly smiled.

  “I think I’ll call it Sword Breaker. I’ve never seen a sword actually cut the blade off of another sword until tonight so that is a unique ability that it has. Also, when it broke the Viking’s weapon it gave me the chance to spare the man’s life without getting myself killed. I needed that chance. I don’t think that I could have faced myself as a Centurion if I had given in to my hatred and killed them.”

  Lady Evelyn nodded her head, “That’s a good name with an excellent reason behind it. Sword Breaker it shall be. We should head to the chapel to confirm your vows and then everyone should get to bed. We’ll know in a day or two if my husband was successful in turning back the Hungarians and if he wasn’t then the first warning that we may get is a Hungarian army assaulting our gate. We need to be ready just in case.”

  Brendan suddenly felt very nervous about confirming vows in the chapel. He felt like he was being swept along by a raging river completely unable to control any of the things that were happening to him. He could jump up and say ‘no’ but what if he did? If Sir Gerard was killed what would happen to Portia and her mother and sister? Saying ‘no’ would be the selfish act of a child but saying ‘yes’ would really just mean that he was giving up and going with the flow instead of standing up for himself. Be the helpless sheep and let himself be lead along to whatever others had chosen for him or be the selfish little pig who only worried about himself? Neither option seemed to be acceptable.

  On the other hand, it occurred to him that he had followed along and allowed himself to be led into a dragon’s lair and the result then was that he had helped kill a dragon. He hadn’t felt like a sheep being led around then, he had felt like Portia’s protector helping her carry out her mission to save her sister. He realized that the difference was that he didn’t just fall into the decision; he had not passively allowed himself to be led into the dragon’s lair. The fact was that he had stepped up, made the decision to do what needed to be done. Father Cardic had called him a man. If he could face a dragon in a battle to the death he could face becoming betrothed to Portia.

  Brendan paused, that didn’t sound right, he was soooooo glad that he had only been thinking that in his head and not talking out loud. He looked at Portia, she had washed her face and changed into a simple linen dress. She was the most beautiful woman in the castle, a woman he could count on to stand by his side through anything.

  “Let’s go,” he said standing up. “It is time for our vows.” He looked at her as he held out his hand to help her up. She was under a lot of pressure to act like an adult as well. Getting married at 16 happened, especially to nobles, but that didn’t mean that it was easy or common. He wondered how she felt about getting betrothed tonight without her father being here. She was avoiding eye contact so she was clearly nervous about it too. He watched as she tensed the muscles in her neck and forced herself to look him in the eye. A crooked, self-conscious but genuine smile spread across her face. He smiled at her. She would be his wife.

  “At least this is the west and not the east,” Aurora commented as she and the other handmaidens stood up.

  “What do you mean?” Asked Portia.

  “In the Eastern Orthodox tradition, the betrothal ceremony and wedding ceremony usually take place on the same day, here in western lands the betrothal can last months or years before you finally get married.”

  Brendan nearly fell over. “So, we’re not getting married today?” He managed to gasp out.

  Portia laughed, “You dodged that arrow, Greek boy! No, we’re not getting married today.”

  Lady Evelyn spoke up, “But a betrothal is still very serious, it is legally binding and can only be broken by a divorce so do NOT enter into it lightly. In fact, it is as legally binding as marriage, which is why it will protect Portia from being forced to marry someone else, but it is not quite the same as actually being married.”

  “So, we can wait awhile and get to know each other better,” Portia said, putting her arm around Brendan’s waist.

  “Eh, eh, eh!” Interrupted Father Cardic, “None of that until you are betrothed!”

  “But we are walking to the chapel now!” She complained.

  “No arguing! Get your arm off his waist until you are betrothed.” Brendan laughed as the priest led the way out of the dining hall toward the chapel.

  The ceremony was a surprisingly simple affair to Brendan considering how complex and formal ceremonies usually were in the east. The two simply held hands and made their vows in front of witnesses and Father Cardic recorded it in the chapel records. A copy of their betrothal documents would be sent around to the other Centurion castles and recorded in the Church records of Frankfort, Paris, and Rome to make it very clear to all concerned that Portia was no longer on the market.

  There would probably have been a celebration afterward if the situation had been more normal, but as it was Brendan and Portia went back to their own beds and fell asleep.

  Chapter 45

  “Having two suitors for your daughter’s hand is trouble but having no suitors for her hand is worse.”

  The Centurion Guide to Practical Advice – Chapter 12: Proverb 5

  Portia found herself awakened the next morning by a great cry from the castle walls. Either her father was returning home or else the Hungarian army had arrived on their doorstep. She dragged herself
out of bed and pulled on a dress so that she could go see what was going on. It felt odd to be wearing a dress when she wasn’t on her way to the chapel, but she didn’t feel like putting on all of her handmaiden equipment. She looked down at her sister who was still sleeping despite all the noise. Portia considered letting her sleep but realized that her motives for doing so were more selfish than thoughtful, so she pulled her out of bed and helped her get a dress on as well.

  The two sisters stumbled out into the bailey curious about what was going on. They stopped when they saw the main gate swing open and Centurion knights come riding in. Portia scanned the men looking for her father. It was immediately apparent that there were a lot of knights and squires missing. Her fear for her father grew until finally Sir Gerard entered the gates. He was one of the very last ones to come riding in.

  Portia and Marcia ran to him as he was dismounting from his warhorse. His face was tired and grim so Portia decided not to be the silly little girl squealing for her daddy.

  “My Lord, how did the battle go?” She asked rather formally.

  He looked at her with a tired smile. “We won, we stopped Akros and his army at the river but the battle was far from being the complete victory that we were hoping for. We bloodied his nose and he was forced to withdraw, but his army is far larger than we expected and most of them survived. We lost a lot of good men; at least a third of our troops were killed or injured. Akros has left Carinthia for now, but he will be back.”

  Portia hugged her father and he returned her squeeze. Marcia waited until Portia was done and then ran forward and hugged her father as well.

  “Waiting your turn? That doesn’t seem like you Marcia,” her father said with a loving tone, “but I am very glad to see it.”

  “I’m just trying to be a better sister; I owe it to Portia to try my best.” The knight raised an eyebrow at Portia, but she simply smiled in return.

  Clovis rode up and dismounted. “My Lord,” he began, addressing Sir Gerard. “I hope that my actions at the river have given proof to my qualifications in battle.”

  Sir Gerard nodded, “You fought with great bravery and skill. I am proud to call you a Centurion.”

  “Indeed, it might even be said that our entire right flank would have collapsed if I had not stepped in and held the high ground,” Clovis continued.

  “Possibly,” Sir Gerard answered. The look on his face made it clear that he knew where this was going and did not like it. Clovis knelt in front of Sir Gerard and Portia.

  “Lord, I have shown you my courage and my skill in the face of overwhelming odds and you already know that I am a young man of intelligence and character. If you and this noble band of knights who have fought by my side think that I am worthy, I would like to ask for permission to court your daughter.”

  A great cheer rose from the knights and squires in the bailey, many of whom owed their lives to Clovis and his bravery in the battle. This was exactly what Clovis wanted, with everyone cheering that he was worthy, Sir Gerard would find it very hard to say no to his request. The Iron Knight was not so easily manipulated, and Portia could see it by the firm set of her father’s jaw. Before he could speak, and possibly cause a rift within the barracks, Portia spoke up.

  “I am afraid that would be very awkward,” she started to explain.

  “It would not be awkward at all,” Clovis countered. “Everyone knows that your parents are looking for a suitable husband for you. I have shown that I am a worthy suitor for your hand by my actions in battle. With your father’s approval I will begin courting you and you will soon see that I am worthy of your love.”

  “No, that is not what I meant; I meant that it would be awkward because I’m already betrothed.”

  The bailey was filled with a shocked silence. Clovis finally recovered as Sir Gerard began to smile.

  “Who…?” Then Clovis caught sight of Brendan as he walked up. “Of course, the squire who bravely stayed behind to protect the women and children. I should have known that you would make good use of your time while you were sitting around here staying safe.”

  “Whoever said that he sat around here staying safe?” The old priest interrupted. “You were not here and know nothing about what happened at the castle while you were gone fighting Akros. Squire Brendan and Miss Portia had to go and rescue Miss Marcia who wandered off from the castle and got captured.”

  “So, they fought a Hungarian raiding party. How many were in it, perhaps a dozen? Impressive but not as impressive as fighting an entire army,” Clovis sneered.

  “We didn’t fight the Hungarians; we fought the dragon who took Marcia from the Hungarians.” Brendan turned and looked at Sir Gerard, “It was the Black, the mate of the Red that you killed all those years ago. We have the teeth and some of its hide to show you.”

  For the second time in less than a minute the bailey was filled with a shocked silence. Father Cardic waited for that to settle in before he spoke again.

  “I think that two young people against a dragon is at least as impressive as a small army facing a large one. I also think that he has shown that he is at least as worthy as you are for Miss Portia’s hand in marriage.”

  Sir Gerard was smiling broadly, this was the best news that he had received in a long time. He smiled at his daughter.

  “I did tell you that he was a young man of unusual talents and an exceptional way of thinking. Now tell me about how the two of you killed a dragon.”

  “Now there is a story worth telling…,” she began happily as she put her arm around her father’s and led him toward the dining hall.

  Appendix A: Glossary

  Armor and Shields

  Gambeson

  A thick padded armor that was very common in the Middle ages. It was cheap and easy to make which made it the armor of choice for the common man. It was made from coarse flax which was turned into a heavy linen. The natural waxy coating of the flax was often left on it when making it into linen to make it tougher and gambeson was surprisingly durable. A thinner version of gambeson was often worn under other armors as a layer of padding and an extra layer of protection. Gambeson that was NOT going to be worn under other armor was usually thicker to provide better protection. Centurion gambeson has silk woven into it to improve its ability to stop arrows.

  Chain Mail

  Chain mail is a type of armor that is made of rings of metal that are linked together like a chain. Different versions of chainmail have been used throughout the centuries. During the setting of the book (946 A.D.) the most common version worn in Europe was a long shirt of chain mail called a hauberk. A hauberk typically covered the arms down to the middle of the forearms or the wrist and it covered the legs down to the mid-thigh or knee. It was usually split from the crotch down to the bottom of the shirt so the wearer could easily straddle a horse. It was a very flexible armor. It was usually worn with a heavy belt so that the hips could help carry some of the weight. A thin gambeson was usually worn underneath. Centurion chain mail is normally made from their durum steel. A hauberk is worn with a conical helmet and chainmail hood called a coif.

  Lamellar

  Lamellar is a type of armor made by attaching metal plates directly to each other either with leather ties or with metal rings. The plates could be attached next to each other or, more commonly, slightly overlapping like fish scales. Lamellar was widely used in eastern Europe, India, and the far east. It provided better protection than chain mail but was less flexible and hindered movement a little more. For this reason, lamellar armors were often sleeveless and if they were worn by horsemen they often stopped at the waist. In this sense, the lamellar armor worn by horse archers such as the Hungarians, was usually more of an armored vest than an armored shirt like chain mail. Hungarian helmets were typically bowl shaped with a lamellar fringe hanging down to protect the neck.

  Mail and Plate

  Plate Mail and Full Plate Armor are the armors that most people think of when they think of a knight, but these don’t appear in
Europe until the late 12th century (Plate Mail) or the late 13th century (Full Plate armor). The intermediate step in between chain mail and plate mail was an armor type known as Mail and Plate. It is made by attaching individual metal plates to a chainmail shirt. It is an attempt to provide the greater protection of lamellar with the greater flexibility and mobility of chain mail. The Centurions are leaders in this particular armor innovation. Their Mail and Plate armors are made using their altum steel and are nearly impenetrable to any of the weapons of the day. Because of the difficulty in working with altum steel and its high expense, only elite Centurion knights and shieldmaidens have it and it is often passed down from father to son and mother to daughter.

  Round shield

  The most common kind of shield in history, used from ancient Greece into the middle ages by many different peoples around the world including the Germanic tribes, and the Norsemen (Vikings). The Hungarians sometimes used round shields but they are not as effective from horseback so many horse archers chose not to use a shield at all. Round shields were usually constructed of wood with a metal boss in the middle, sometimes they were covered with hides. Metal shields were rare because of their weight. Round shields were usually held with a single hand grip underneath the boss so using them for long periods in battle was very tiring. A common tactic for infantry was to form a shield wall where the shields overlapped each other down a line of men to form a wall, spears were then extended out of the wall above and below the “joints” in the wall.