Gemma and the Dragon, continued
Part 2
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 mightily! Dragon, you will die, or on second thought, I may too. In any case, Strength!
. . .
The Knight was almost to the large rectangular rock when a monstrous yellow, green and black serpent slithered out of a dark hole behind the rock. The colorful geometric patterns on its skin appeared to shift and rearrange themselves. The serpent moved onto the path on the mountain, raised its head and looked at the Knight with its black serpent eyes and shifting designs. The Knight put his right hand on the hilt of his sword and watched the oddly colored snake flick its red tongue in and out of its large mouth.
The serpent brought its long thick body onto the trail and coiled the body around itself with only the head sticking out of the coil. The head was now above waist height; the snake was not exactly menacing, though it was certainly a force with which the Knight had to reckon.
The Knight stopped well back from the serpent, kept his hand on the sword’s hilt but did not draw it, having learned caution and some patience from his encounter with the lion. The man and beast looked at one another.
“Well, Serpent, are we to talk or fight? Will you either tell me something, like the lion, or will you remove your large colorful self from my path before I lop off your head?” He pulled his sword up a few inches from the scabbard. The serpent continued to flick its tongue into the air as if tasting its quality. It did not appear afraid.
The word Subtlety, like Strength, floated above the serpent and into the air, coiling and uncoiling into the Knight’s mind. Subtlety, he thought, as the long thick serpent unwound itself and wove its way off the path and down the mountain, leaving the Knight more perplexed than usual. Will I need Subtlety, as I need Strength, in dealing with the dragon? he wondered. Has the serpent given me a gift? Has the lion? Curious things we Knights see on our quests. I remember good Sir Gawain’s tale of his meeting with an ax-bearing green knight which the priest, hight Ambrose, wrote down for the ages. And the entire round table of knights then went heighing off after Our Good Lord’s Chalice. Had I been there I would undoubtedly have taken my horse and rode out as well. The last I heard, it had not gone well for the lot of them. Probably too many brown-skinned maidens in their way! He chuckled, but then immediately felt guilty and wondered if his quest would also fail for some sinful flaw in his character. Always act better than you are in order to become better, he thought again, having nearly failed the last test.
The Knight decided he had rested enough; he walked past the rock and followed the path around the mountain to his right. The path had coiled somewhat like the serpent.
The gentle turn made walking and ascending easier, but he thought that was a bit ominous too. Who knows what lies ahead? Would that I had a stout fighter like Sir Lancelot with me, or that, what’s his name, that Pagan Knight, an Arab, a Saracen I think, but our Saracen, thank God! A good friend to all of King Arthur’s knights. Sagamore, perhaps? Rasheed? I can’t remember. He went after the Grail too, for he was there with the others, and they said his brown and dusty face shined like the Christians in its presence. Well, the good LORD be with me here and now, and give me strength and subtlety too if that be necessary.
After a hundred yards the path coiled back around to the western side and then wove its way upward toward the dragon’s dark lair. Would that I had thought to bring a lance, as well as my sword and shield, though carrying that too would have been burdensome. Ah well, what’s done is done, but what’s that bundle on the path up ahead? I don’t think that was there a moment ago. The Knight moved forward cautiously, kicking small gravel aside and ever climbing up.
As he approached the figure on the path, he saw it was a person like himself, perchance a wounded dragon fighter too. Another knight. The Knight kneeled and put his right hand on the knight”s exposed neck. The Knight found a weak pulse. He unclipped his canteen, removed the cork, then held up the man’s head with his left hand while putting the canteen to his lips. The fallen knight opened his mouth slightly and drank the water.
“Thank you, Sir Knight, I was well nigh dying of thirst when you stopped your ascent and gave me your water. What is your name, if I may ask my kind Samaritan?”
The Knight hesitated. “This is an evil mountain,” he said. “I have seen things that have stunned me and I think you are human and in need, but I hesitate to give you my name, though the bewitching powers here seem to know it already. Ah well, I…”
“Sir Dinadin!” said a feminine voice from behind him. “Look at you helping my fallen knight, Sir Lackamore. How good of you! I wondered what had happened to him when he failed to meet me at the flat rock. I see he is alive and prospering under your kind care.”
The fallen knight tried to sit up. The brown-skinned maiden from before pushed past Dinadin and put a vial to the fallen knight’s lips. “Drink this, my sweet. You will feel like new and your wounds will heal, for I can see that you are burned under your tunic and mail.”
The Knight tried to stop the brown maiden, but he was too late. The fallen knight, Sir Lackamore, had already swallowed. The maiden smiled up at the Knight, a mischievous sly grin. “I could have been yours, my good Sir Dinadin, if only you had come with me. As it is I shall help this fallen knight to my house in yonder dark wood down the mountain and let him stay till he fully recovers.”
The Knight gulped and thought of consequences, pleasant consequences, he thought. He took control of his thoughts and replied, “Stay with me, Sir Lackamore! I think you will be safer facing the dragon again. If you go into the dark woods with her, I fear you may never come out. It’s true she is fetching and luscious in all the right places, but she is more deadly than a nest of vipers. She would distract a knight from distraction itself, and you may very well lose your soul in the process.”
“Nonetheless,” said Lackamore, “I feel stronger now and will let her lead me to her woodland home, where I might heal of all my ills.”
“Good Lord!” started the Knight. “You are deceived, I am certain.”
“Better deceived by a present beauty than following a hidden God to almost certain death! I appreciate your help, but will take my chance with this lovely kind maiden.” The fallen knight rose slowly to his feet with the help of the brown-skinned maiden, turned his thin face to Sir Dinadin, grinned fatuously, and started back down the path, limping slightly but holding on to the maiden’s arm. As before she looked over her should at the Knight and grinned brightly. He heard “Your loss,” float towards him from below.
My gain though, I suspect, really. Beauty is finally an intangible in this world, certainly the beauty of a mysterious maiden. Perhaps she is only an expense of spirit in a waste of shame, after all, as the Poet wrote of lust in action some time ago. You may see her beauty, you may have her, but you can not possess her beauty anymore than you can have the beauty of a bright silver moon or a lovely golden sunset. He turned toward the horizon. The sun indeed has hastened to the west and I had best hurry. Even my horse will wonder where I am if I do not return sometime soon. Would I could slay the dragon quickly and leave this mountain to return to horse and village for the night. And to the lovely Gemma! God help me persevere and overcome this beast.
The Knight watched them go, then turned back to the final ascent to the dragon’s lair.
[To be continued in Part 3: Gemma and the Dragon
Image: another brown-skinned maiden! Indeed, the narrator’s world seems full of them.
Second image: contemporary brown-skinned maiden with wolf; they’re everywhere, it seems!]
