Gemma and the Dragon
“The LORD is close to all who call him, who call on him in truth. He fulfills the desires of those who fear him; he hears their cry and he saves them. The LORD keeps watch over all who love him.” Ps 145: 18-20
The Knight swung out of the saddle of his tall roan stallion and fastened the reins to a flourishing bush at the foot of the mountain. The horse began nibbling on the green bush.
The entrance to the Dragon’s cave was high up the side of the steep Devil’s Mountain, but the Knight was determined to encounter the beast in his lair and free the village from the monthly ravaging. Clad in distinctive armor, including winged helm, breastplate, silver shoes with golden buckles, and carrying a long broadsword at his side as well as a shield studded with diamonds strapped to his back, he started up the mountain.
No sooner had he set foot on the steep rise than his foot kicked loose a small rock that rolled with a clatter behind him. The assault on his mind began at once.
A seeming page boy with dim hollow eyes, dressed in a tight scarlet long sleeve shirt with small ruffles at his wrists and tight scarlet pants that molded his thin legs, stood before him holding a golden chalice. It was filled with a sweet red wine. “Aren’t you thirsty, Sir Dinadin? Wouldn’t you like a cool drink of sweet wine from the Grail before your arduous assent?” He held out his golden chalice to the Knight.
The Knight put his right hand on the hilt of the sword strapped on his left waist. He started to draw the sword though he saw that the page who had suddenly appeared before him was unarmed except for the chalice. He withdrew his hand and discovered that his thirst was profound. “That’s not the Grail, varlet! Begone Sprite, scarlet varlet!” he roared at the seeming boy, who began to diminish in the bright light of the sun on the mountainside. “If I thirst I have blessed water in my canteen, cool holy water blessed by the village priest before I set out!” Here he slapped the canteen on the right side of his waist, fastened to his leather belt that also held the scabbard for his sword. The sound of the slap echoed around the valley behind him. The boy in scarlet moved back, though the Knight saw that the boy’s feet scarcely touched the mountain side.
The Knight unclipped the canteen from his belt, uncorked the bottle and took a mouthful of water, swallowed it, took a second swig and shot a stream of water at the figure in scarlet, hitting it full in the chest. The creature screamed and vanished in the proverbial puff of smoke. “Ha!” Shouted the Knight! “I knew thee for the evil thing thou wert! Sprite of the devil, supernatural villain! Gone and good riddance.” He reattached the canteen to his belt after taking another short drink and thought it was likely to be a long hot day. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his bare hand. He looked back to see that his horse was content.
Satisfied with his horse, the Knight turned toward the mountain he had barely started to climb. He was on a path of sorts that he saw led up through a grove of dark woods, perhaps a hundred yards ahead. His resolve about his task began to waver. Perhaps I was too hasty to agree to this quest, he thought. But the village was counting on him, and the dark haired Gemma who had given him her white scarf as a token which he could feel against his bare chest under his thin woolen shirt and fine mail armor and breast plate. Gemma, he had loved her the first moment he saw her when he rode through the village with the King’s men a year and a day ago. Christ, she was beautiful, he thought, with her shining dark eyes and long black hair, ample bosom, supple waist and narrow ankles. He would fight a hundred dragons if that’s what it took to win her love! With his resolve firmly in place once again, he began the climb to the woods and the cave of the dragon somewhere beyond.
Soon the path led the Knight up into the dark wood on the mountainside. As he entered the woods of tightly growing trees on either side of the footpath, he heard the eerie sound of a wolf howling in the distance; a much closer wolf answered. Ahead on the path in the woods the Knight saw a large grey shape apparently waiting for him. Good God, he thought, do I have to fight a wolf pack before I get anywhere near the Dragon? He crossed himself, drew his long sharp sword and continued toward the creature snarling before him. The wolf was huge, almost chest tall, though it also seemed thin and ravenous. Its bright yellow eyes watched the knight as he approached; suddenly it threw back its large head and howled, which was immediately answered by two other very close wolves from inside the woods, one on either side of the Knight.
Three of the monsters, thought the Knight. Are they real or are they seemings like the scarlet varlet? One way to find out, he said to himself and rushed the enormous wolf on the path. The wolf leaped and as it did, the Knight swung his sword, two-handed, into the wolf’s neck, almost severing its head. The wolf crashed to the ground, blood gushing from its deep fatal wound. The Knight quickly turned to find the other two wolves coming up behind him, snarling viciously. He held his bloodied sword before him and hoped they wouldn’t attack together. He waved the sword before him, daring them to advance. “Come on Fenrir!” he shouted, “come join your dead mate!”
The two wolves stopped on the path, growled loudly, and lowered their heads, showing their large fangs. The Knight, holding his sword before him, took a step towards them. They raised their heads and started to back away. The Knight glanced over his shoulder to check on the wolf he had downed. There was blood on the path but the severely wounded wolf had vanished. He quickly turned back to the two before him, but saw that they too had vanished. He lowered his sword to the ground and leaned on it for a moment. These be strange behaviors for savage beasts, he thought. Am I done with them or will they try to ambush me up ahead again? He lifted the sword and was about to tear leaves from one of the nearby trees to clean off the blood, but he saw that the sword was clean. What is going on here, he wondered, amazed? He started to return the sword to the scabbard when he saw a large tawny lion step onto the path near the edge of the woods.
“Holy Mary, Mother of God, help me!” he muttered. Three wolves and a lion. Too much! Too many! A bloody mountain menagerie! “God help me in this cursed place!” he roared. He gripped the sword tightly and charged the lion.
“The lion roars; who will not be afraid?” the Knight thought to himself, just as he heard the word “strength” floating above the place of the lion who was no longer there. Instead, he beheld a lovely brown-skinned maiden standing where the lion had been! “Strength,” he muttered to himself as he jerked to a stop. “What on Earth?”
“Come, Sir Dinadin!” She said, her long black hair falling seductively over her left shoulder; she was wearing a green transparent shift; her right shoulder was bare. Her eyes were dark and as lovely as her bare brown legs. “Come with me to my home in the woods. Come with me, my handsome Knight.” She stretched her brown hand and arm towards him.
The Knight wanted to take her hand. The flesh is weak, he thought. Surely she is a lovely gift from…! No, I must stay on the path, even if she looks like Gemma. He felt a stirring in his groin, a swelling that called for attention. He tried not to look at her brown loveliness, her long black hair and her dark eyes, to no avail. Strength, he muttered to himself again, and took a half step towards her. She touched his arm, and her touch brought desire to his body like a bolt of summer lightning! Oh my God, he thought, the flesh is weak! “Strength,” he said and stepped back from her touch.
“Oh, Sir Dinadin,” she said, “Surely you wish to follow me to my home which is in the woods and only a little off this path. I can offer you bed and board, for you seem so weary and hungry.”
“I however have a task to perform and a woman I love and serve. I will not be distracted by you, no matter the delights you offer, which I can see must be many.”
“Alas, Sir Dinadin,” she replied turning toward the faint path that angled off farther into the woods, “I shall think of you often on my bed tonight, and perhaps we shall meet again soon.” With that said she disappeared into the woods, only looking over her shoulder once to see if he would follow.
The Knight had forgotten to sheath his sword in the lust of the moment; thus he shoved it into the scabbard and quickly unhooked the canteen from his belt, pulled out the cork and took a long swallow. He tried not to think about the frisky brown-skin maiden, but her image clouded his mind. He could see her smooth the green shift down her body with both hands, breasts, waist and thighs. Sigh, he breathed out. One should always act better than one truly is, and so I have done here, I think. I wonder if she was real or just another sending? Her touch certainly felt real and what would have happened if I had followed her? He shuddered slightly and shook his head, trying to rid his mind of her image. He found instead that he still desired the brown-skinned maiden and that he could not clear his mind of her. Strength, he thought. Ora pro nobis! Holy Mary, mother of God, help me! He refastened his canteen and walked out of the woods and past the path that may have led to her home. Non nisi te, he thought. Non nisi te!
The Knight looked up and saw that the sun was well past midday. He was bothered, hot and weary, yet he pressed on. Ora pro nobis, he thought again. He saw a large rectangular rock about fifty feet ahead and decided he would sit down once he reached it. He looked behind him, past the woods and down. He had climbed a goodly distance but was alarmed that he would be exhausted once he reached the dragon’s cave and unable to lift his sword. He could no longer see his roan stallion.
Nonsense, he thought. I am strong and have some courage. I have Gemma’s token which she gave me freely even though I am a bit of a fool. She, lovely as she is, is not a brown-skinned maiden, thank the good God, and I love her chastely and properly! Dragon, you will die, or on second thought, I may too. In any case, Strength!
[To be continued, I hope; see Part 2! “Gemma and the Dragon”
Below, a brown-skinned maiden or two, the second in a woods!]
