In the long, chequered, and glorious history of the Knights there are many strange and semi-miraculous deeds recounted of them in the wars and adventures in which they took so prominent a part; the following, which is gravely set out by the historians of the time, may be left to the judgment of the reader. In 1324 Fulke de Villaret was succeeded in the Grand Mastership by Helion de Villeneuve, a knight of exemplary piety and a strict disciplinarian. Under his rule the Order regained those habits of severe simplicity from which they had been allowed to lapse by his predecessor. In 1329 Rhodes was greatly agitated by the fact that a crocodile or serpent—as it is indifferently described—had taken up its abode in the marshes at the foot of Mount St. Etienne, some two miles from the town. This ferocious creature devoured sheep and cattle; also several of the inhabitants had lost their lives by approaching the neighbourhood in which it dwelt. Several attacks were made upon it, but, as there were no firearms, all the missiles projected against it rebounded harmlessly from the scales with which it was covered. So dangerous had it become, that the Grand Master thought it his duty to forbid any of the knights to attempt its destruction; an order which was obeyed with a right good will. There was, however, a knight of the Language of Provence called Gozon de Dieu-Donné, who secretly determined that he would slay the serpent, and he accordingly made it his occupation to observe as closely as possible the habits of the monster. Having satisfied himself on certain points, he then returned to his chateau of Gozon in the province of Languedoc. The point which Gozon had wished to determine was in what portion of its body was the serpent vulnerable; and he had convinced himself that the belly of the creature was unprotected by scales. He accordingly modelled in wood as exact a representation of the serpent as he could accomplish, colouring it the same as the original; the belly of the model was constructed of leather. He then trained some large and ferocious hounds, at a certain signal, to dash in under the model and fix their teeth in its leathern underpart. For months did the ingenious knight persevere with the training of his dogs, himself on horseback in full armour cheering them to the assault. At last he considered them to be perfect in their parts, and, taking two servants and the hounds with him, returned to Rhodes. Avoiding everybody, he caused his arms to be carried to a small church in the neighbourhood of Mount St. Etienne by his servants. The knight went into the church, where he passed some time in prayer, recommending his soul to God in the enterprise which he was about to undertake.
He then donned his armour and mounted his horse, ordering his servants, if he were killed, to return to France but if he succeeded in killing the serpent to come at once to him, or to aid him if he were wounded. He then rode off in the direction of the marsh accompanied by his hounds. No sooner did the serpent hear the ring of bit and stirrup-iron, the trampling of the charger and the baying of the hounds, than it issued forth with wide-open slavering jaws and terrible burning eyes to slay and to devour. Gozon, recommending his soul to his Maker, put spurs to his horse and charged. But his lance shivered on the hide of the serpent as though it had struck a stone wall. His horse, mad with terror at the sight and the foul odour of the serpent, plunged so furiously as to unseat him. He fell to the ground, uttering as he did so his call to the hounds; had it not been for these faithful auxiliaries he would instantly have been slain, but they rushed in and, fastening their teeth in the belly of the serpent, caused it to writhe and twist in its anguish. Instantly Gozon was upon his feet again, and, watching his opportunity, plunged his sword into the exposed vitals of his enemy. Mortally wounded, the serpent flung itself high in the air with a convulsive effort, and falling backwards pinned the knight to the ground beneath its enormous bulk. The servants, who had been the horrified spectators of this terrific conflict, now rushed to the assistance of their master, and succeeded in freeing him from his unpleasant predicament. Gozon, they thought, was dead, but upon dashing some water in his face he opened his eyes, to behold the pleasing spectacle of his monstrous enemy lying by his side a corpse.
Naturally elated, he returned to Rhodes, where he became on the instant the popular hero; for who could say or do enough for the man who had slain the serpent. He was conducted in triumph to the palace of the Grand Master by his fellow knights, but here a remarkably unpleasant surprise was in store for him. Very austerely did Helion de Villeneuve regard the triumphant warrior, and stern and uncompromising was the voice in which he asked him how he had dared to contravene the express order of his Grand Master by going forth to combat with the serpent? Calling a Council immediately the implacable de Villeneuve, in spite of all entreaties, deprived Gozon de Dieu-Donné of the habit of a knight. “What,” said this just and severe disciplinarian, “is the death of this monster, what indeed do the deaths of the islanders matter, compared with the maintenance of the discipline of this Order of which I am the unworthy chief?”
But Helion de Villeneuve was of too wise and kindly a nature to make his decree absolute, and having thus vindicated his authority he shortly afterwards released Gozon and made him happy by his praises and more material benefits.
The Abbé de Vertot tells us that the learned Bochart argues that the Phoenicians gave to this island the name of Gefirath-Rod (from whence the name “Rhodes”), or the Isle of the Serpents, and that when the Romans were at war with the Carthaginians Attilius Regulus slew a monster in the island of Rhodes the skin of which measured one hundred feet. Thevenot, in his Travels published in 1637, states that he saw the head of Gozon’s serpent still attached to one of the gates of the town of Rhodes, and that it was as large as the head of a horse.
Upon the death of Helion de Villeneuve in 1346, a Chapter of the Order was held as usual to elect his successor. When it came to the turn of the Commander Gozon de Dieu-Donné to speak, he said:
“In entering this conclave I made a solemn vow not to propose any knight whom I did not consider to be most worthy of this exalted office, and animated by the best intentions for the glory and well-being of the Order. After considering carefully the state of the Christian world, of the wars which we are perpetually obliged to wage against the infidel, the firmness and vigour necessary for the maintenance of discipline, I declare that I find no person so capable of governing our ‘Religion’ as myself.”
He then proceeded to speak in a purely impersonal tone of the magnificent services which he had rendered, not forgetting the famous episode of the serpent, and drew their attention to the fact that the late Grand Master had constituted him, Gozon, his principal lieutenant. He ended: “You have already tried my government, you know well that which you may hope to expect. I believe that in all justice I shall receive your suffrages.”
Naturally the assemblage was stupefied at hearing a man thus recommend himself; on reflection, however, they decided that he had spoken no less than the truth, and Gozon de Dieu-Donné, “the hero of the serpent,” became twenty-sixth Grand Master of the Order. He died in 1353, when he was succeeded by Pierre de Cornillan, and upon his tomb were graven these words:
“Cy Gist le Vainqueur du Dragon.”