Part 3: Gemma and the Dragon
My gain though, I suspect, really. Beauty is finally an intangible in this world, certainly the beauty of a mysterious maiden. Perhaps 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.
. . .
The Knight climbed steadily, only glancing up from time to time to check the position of the sun. Odd, he thought; it almost looks as if the sun has stopped in the western sky with not a cloud to hinder its heat. He paused and considered. That’s not possible unless there’s a miracle above and beyond. Well, he thought, I have a quest to complete! Miracle or not!
As the Knight turned his gaze to the steep path ahead, he saw a shimmering white form apparently some ways before him. What now? he wondered. It looks like a horse; but not a horse, he thought slightly confused. Perhaps the sun has addled my mind under this metal helm. He climbed hesitantly toward the new creature.
As the Knight drew closer, he found himself facing a very serious unicorn that was looking severely back at him. Goodness, his mind seemed to recoil. I thought unicorns were a myth. No one has seen one in my lifetime that I have heard of, but after the lion and serpent, and the varlet and maiden, who can really judge the truth of what one sees on this mountain?
Approaching, he called out: “Friend or foe? Are you here to help or hinder?” The unicorn shook its head and snorted, blowing out frothy air. Its silvery white horn seemed like a challenge as it shone in the intense sunlight. As before a word floated in the air above the strange beast and spiraled into his brain: Chastity! Sir Dinadin, he heard as though a mighty cataract had fallen upon him. He sank to his knees before the thunderous sound.
When he looked up again, the unicorn was gone, navigating the steep descent of the mountainside with practiced ease, then nothing but a white streak in the gentle wind. Chastity? I have been chaste, thought the Knight, unless a few lascivious thoughts count against me. But I am done with the brown-skinned maiden, surely, God willing! The thought no sooner entered his mind than she appeared before him again, fetching as always, her brown body shining above and below the short shift she wore. She was smiling again, her shoulders and too shapely legs gleaming in the sunlight.
“Well, Sir Dinadin, you do not get rid of me that easily, for I am always nearby. One kiss this time and I shall leave you alone for the nonce! And you have never asked for my name though I know yours quite well! I am called Adhara, after the star. I have come for your kiss, Sir Dinadin! That I may treasure it always as you ride off to your doom!”
“No,” replied the Knight. He looked into her dark eyes and spoke again. “I have seen the unicorn on the mountain. Your power over my mind is lost. Take yourself back to poor Lackamore and tempt me no more.”
The Knight looked in astonishment as the beautiful Adhara began to change before him into a shrunken, wrinkled old woman. “No,” she screamed once, fighting the transformation, and then vanished from his sight forever.
The Knight fell to his knees and made the sign of the cross over his heart. He arose and the way before him was steep but clear. Adhara, he thought, not so young and beautiful after all! Chastity is a formidable virtue. No wonder the monks at the Abbey value it so. Who would have thought?
The form of the brown-skinned maiden was gone from his mind as he resumed his ascent. He could see farther up on the side of the mountain the dragon’s dark lair beckoning. Again he began to climb toward it while the sun held its place in the western sky.
As he neared the entrance a dark shadow passed over the ground beside him. He looked up and saw an enormous eagle with a giant wingspan gliding above him. Its shadow passed over him again, and like a still small voice in his mind, he heard, “One thing you lack, Sir Dinadin. Wisdom! That is the final virtue with which you must arm yourself! Now go and face your enemy.”
Sir Dinadin did not raise his head, but climbed the final path to the Dragon’s Cave, where he found the Dragon waiting. To his great surprise the massive beast was lying near the front of his cave. It raised its head as the Knight approached, but it did not get to its feet. The Dragon was a blackish green and covered with scales. Small coils of smoke curled up from its cavernous nostrils as it stared at him. Then the voice of the Dragon was heard in the land.
“You have climbed well, Sir Knight, Sir Dinadin! Most do not make it this high. As you can see should you choose to look, my cave contains the bones of those who dared.” The Dragon moved his left clawed foot slightly and a human skull tumbled toward the Knight. “You cannot kill me, Knight, for I am eternal, so keep your sword in your sheath and your shield strapped to your back. My name is Baal, Beelzebub, Belial, Lucifer, Ashtoroth, immortal Satan, Lord of the Flies that will eat what is left of your flesh once you are well roasted!”
“It seems you boast too much, beast of fire,” said Sir Dinadin, unstrapping the diamond-covered shield from his back, removing its leather cover and drawing his sword. “And your claim is false! No beast is immortal, no matter how long-lived.”
The Dragon seemed to chuckle, then opened its mouth and shot a stream of fire at the knight. The fire hit the glowing shield, keeping it from Dinadin. The heat was intense.
“So,” said the Dragon, “You have an effective defense! In the long haul it will do you no good. You will grow weary and your body and arms will fail. My fires will consume you! Perhaps we should play chess!”
“What? Play chess? I did not climb all this way for a game, especially against one who is a liar and a cheat! Besides, you said the flies will feast on my flesh. Are you feeling threatened?”
“Your puny sword and shield cannot threaten the likes of me.”
“You may have seen that my shield repelled your terrible fire, but it has another virtue as well. You are not the only one here with the power of fire, monstrous as you are and smoking like a furnace! Watch!”
Dinadin held the shield above his head pointed toward the stalled sun in the west whose rays hit the shield with supernatural power. He quickly brought the shield down before the Dragon’s huge head. The Dragon rose quickly to his feet and stretched to his full height, dwarfing the Knight.
“Even so, Little One, you will die here, crying for mercy and receiving none from me! Consider yourself dead as of now.” The Dragon’s fierce flames again hit Sir Dinadin’s shield, only this time the shield did not scatter them but took them and returned them tenfold to the Dragon, who screamed and unfurled his gigantic leathery wings. It sprang into the air and over the Knight. Dinadin followed the flight of the Dragon, keeping his shield ever between them, as the Dragon circled the sky above the Knight.
Sir Dinadin’s shield now faced the sun, absorbing more of the sun’s powerful fire and light. With his mind he released the energy of the sun-powered shield, directing its blast at the Dragon. Again the fire hit the Dragon, scorching its wings, shriveling them and sending the Dragon tumbling like a fiery meteor toward the bottom of the mountain. The ground of the Devil’s Mountain appeared to open to receive the beast just as it. As Sir Dinadin looked to where the Dragon had seemed to fall; all he saw was a large crater, still smoking, as if hit by a cosmic source.
The Knight looked into the cave, but did not see the small version of the many-named beast hiding back in the darkness. He looked in at the bones of those who had gone before him, offered a prayer for them, then sheathed his still shining sword, then covered and strapped the powerful shield once more onto his back.
The Knight turned slowly away from the charnel cave and started the long walk down the mountain to his horse, the village, and his own sweet love. They that wait upon the Lord, he thought, shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint. Still, he felt exhausted from the ascent and battle well won, in spite of the odds. The image of Gemma filled his mind and he picked up the pace, singing Te Adoro to the sky as he and the sun descended together.
[Thus concludes this narrative of Gemma and the Dragon. The narrator fervently hopes there was at least some small treasure worth finding herein, especially if you have struggled up the mountain with Sir Dinadin, the good, the strong and the wise Christian knight.]
Alleluia
Image: St. George fighting his dragon under the sign of the Red Cross, as in Spenser, and rescuing the maiden, who is neither brown-skinned nor black-haired—alas!
Second image: the final brown-skinned maiden with wolf before her demise?
