So the Knight went back to Cælia’s abode not a little comforted and encouraged.
CHAPTER X
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.”