Belgian Fairy Tales

by William Elliot Griffis

Now, when the dragon moves along over the ground, with folded wings, he never keeps his head quiet, or straight, for one moment; but [[194]]sways it from side to side, and up and down, as if to see everything and to catch the scent of any creature near, whether man or beast.

So when Rufinus looked up, he saw this monstrous head, high in the air with open jaws, working and breathing out fire, which crackled like mimic lightning flashes. His long body, half hidden, trailed along, in and out, among the rocks and trees. The wind, blowing toward them, bore the odor of burning sulphur, which, at times, nearly suffocated them. Yet they dared not cough, lest the monster should hear them. For fear the horse might snort, or stamp, or make any noise, the Belgian took out his flask of strong wine and blew some of the liquid into the animal’s nostrils; so that, while his nose was tingling, the animal could think of nothing else, so the creature was as quiet, as if made of stone.

Both men, Rufinus on horseback, and the Belgian on foot, felt their hearts beating fast, as the latter waited for the monster to get within arrow range, while Rufinus poised his spear and got ready to spur his horse forward. The Belgian trusted to speed his shaft into the monster’s eye, and blind him, while Rufinus hoped for a thrust of his weapon down into the red cavern, into which so many maidens had slipped as food.

Both brave fellows thought not only of the [[195]]glory that they should win, for killing the dragon, and delivering the land from a curse, but of the joy and gratitude which the rescued maidens would feel toward them as their deliverers. They would fight, even if they should be eaten up.

When within a hundred yards of the two men, the monster paused to look around, as if he suspected danger. Then he reared up on his hind legs and tail. At this moment the temptation, to the Belgian archer, to shoot, was great; for he was then sure of hitting the dragon in the heart or stomach; but, he kept his arrow on the string, and waited. They could hear the rattling of the golden scales, one upon the other, while the roar, that issued from the monster’s throat, by which he expected to scare away any living enemies, reminded them of thunder echoing among the high mountains.

It was the dragon’s habit, after finding there was no danger, to halt, then he would rest a while, so as to dispel suspicion, making every one think he had gone; and then, he would silently pounce upon his prey.

“Shall I shoot?” whispered the Belgian excitedly, to Rufinus.

“Yes, but be cool. Take your time and aim for the left eye, the one nearest to us,” answered the Roman. [[196]]

The Belgian drew the arrow clear up to his ear, and let fly. The dragon’s cry of pain was so horrible, as almost to freeze the blood in the men’s veins. His howls showed that the shaft had hit its mark. Then Rufinus, clapping spurs to his horse, dashed out into the path. The monster, half blinded, flapped his wings, arched his back, rose up on his hind feet and claws, and opened his terrible jaws, to dart at and swallow up the daring Roman. To the horse and rider, there seemed to yawn a deep, red cavern, down which, both might, in a moment, slide. The two men trembled for a moment, but they did not flinch.

But before a claw could touch Rufinus, he had run his long, steel-headed spear, deep down into the monster’s throat. Then he drove his rearing horse still forward, and pushed the weapon further down and clear into the monster’s heart. With a bellow, that seemed to shake and rend the hills, making echoes even in the distant mountains, the writhing mass of force and flesh fell over. The vicious brute, that, one moment before, seemed to be a combination of all brutes and able to face an army, was now a lifeless mass, dead as a door nail.