`A nice land,' he would say, `pretty flat, soft to the feet, and plenty to eat for the taking: cows, you know, and sheep all over the place, easy to spot, if you look careflly.'
`But what about the people ?' said they.
`I never saw any,' said he. `There was not a knight to be seen or heard, my dear fellows. Nothing worse than a few stinging flies by the river.'
`Why don't you go back and stay there?' said they.
`Oh well, there's no place like home, they say,' said he. `But maybe I shall go back one day when I have a mind. And anyway I went there once, which is more than most folk can say. Now about that copper pot.'
`And these rich lands,' they would hurriedly ask, `these delectable regions full of undefended cattle, which way do they lie? And how far off?'
`Oh,' he would answer, `away east or sou'east. But it's a long journey.' And then he would give such an exaggerated account of the distance that he had walked, and the woods, hills, and plains that he had crossed, that none of the other less long-legged giants ever set out. Still, the talk got about.
Then the warm summer was followed by a hard winter. It was bitter cold in the mountains and food was scarce.
The talk got louder. Lowland sheep and lone from the deep pastures were much discussed. The dragons pricked up their ears. They were hungry, and these rumours were attractive. `So knights are mythical!' said the younger and less experienced dragons. `We always thought so.'
`At least they may be getting rare,' thought the older and wiser worms; `far and few and no longer to be feared.'
There was one dragon who was deeply moved. Chrysophylax Dives was his name, for he was of ancient and imperial lineage, and very rich. He was cunning, inquisitive, greedy, well-armoured, but not over bold. But at any rate he was not in the least afraid of flies or insects of any sort or size; and he was mortally hungry.
So one winter's day, about a week before Christmas, Chrysophylax spread his wings and took off. He landed quietly in the middle of the night plump in the heart of the midland realm of Augustus Bonifacius rex et basileus. He did a deal of damage in a short while, smashing and burning, and devouring sheep, cattle, and horses.
This was in a part of the land a long way from Ham, but Garm got the fright of his life. He had gone off on a long expedition, and taking advantage of his master's favour he had ventured to spend a night or two away from home. He was following an engaging scent along the eaves of a wood, when he turned a corner and came suddenly upon a new and alarming smell; he ran indeed slap into the tail of Chrysophylax Dives, who had just landed. Never did a dog turn his own tail round and bolt home swifter than Garm. The dragon, hearing his yelp, turned and snorted; but Garm was already far out of range. He ran all the rest of the night, and arrived home about breakfast-time.
'Help! help! help!' he cried outside the back door.
Giles heard, and did not like the sound of it. It reminded him that unexpected things may happen, when all seems to be going well.
`Wife, let that dratted dog in,' said he, `and take a stick to him!'
Garm came bundling into the kitchen with his eyes starting and his tongue hanging out. `Help!' he cried.
`Now what have you been a-doing this time?' said Giles, throwing a sausage at him.
`Nothing,' panted Garm, too flustered to give heed to the sausage.
`Well, stop doing it, or I'll skin you,' said the farmer.
`I've done no wrong. I didn't mean no harm,' said the dog. `But I came on a dragon accidental-like, and it frightened me.'
The farmer choked in his beer. `Dragon?' said he. `Drat you for a good-for-nothing nosey-Parker! What d'you want to go and find a dragon for, at this time of the year, and me with my hands full? Where was it?'
'Oh! North over the hills and far away, `beyond the Standing Stones and all,' said the dog.
`Oh, away there!' said Giles, mighty relieved. `They're queer folk in those parts, I've heard tell, and aught might happen in their land. Let them get on with it! Don't come worriting me with such tales. Get out!'
Garm got out, and spread the news all over the village. He did not forget to mention that his master was not scared in the least. `Quite cool he was, and went on with his breakfast.'
People chatted about it pleasantly at their doors. `How like old times!' they said. `Just as Christmas is coming, too. So seasonable. How pleased the King will be! He will be able to have Real Tail this Christmas.'
But more news came in next day. The dragon, it appeared, was exceptionally large and ferocious. He was doing terrible damage.
`What about the King's knights?' people began to say.
Others had already asked the same question. Indeed, messengers were now reaching the King from the villages most afflicted by Chrysophylax, and they said to him as loudly and as often as they dared: `Lord, what of your knights?'
But the knights did nothing; their knowledge of the dragon was still quite unofficial. So the King brought the matter to their notice, fully and formally, asking for necessary action at their early convenience. He was greatly displeased when he found that their convenience would not be early at all, and was indeed daily postponed.
Yet the excuses of the knights were undoubtedly sound. First of all, the Royal Cook had already made the Dragon's Tail for that Christmas, being a man who believed in getting things done in good time. It would not do at all to offend him by bringing in a real tail at the last minute. He was a very valuable servant.
`Never mind the Tail! Cut his head off and put an end to him!' cried the messengers from the villages most nearly affected.
But Christmas had arrived, and most unfortunately a grand tournament had been arranged for St John's Day: knights of many realms had been invited and were coming to compete for a valuable prize. It was obviously unreasonable to spoil the chances of the Midland Knights by sending their best men off on a dragon-hunt before the tournament was over.
After that came the New Year Holiday.
But each night the dragon had moved; and each move had brought him nearer to Ham. On the night of New Year's Day people could see a blaze in the distance. The dragon had settled in a wood about ten miles away, and it was burning merrily. He was a hot dragon when he felt in the mood.
After that people began to look at Farmer Giles and whisper behind his back. It made him very uncomfortable; but he pretended not to notice it. The next day the dragon came several miles nearer. Then Farmer Giles himself began to talk loudly of the scandal of the King's knights. `I should like to know what they do to earn their keep,' said he.
`So should we!' said everyone in Ham.
But the miller added: `Some men still get knighthood by sheer merit, I am told. After all, our good Aegidius here is already a knight in a manner of speaking. Did not the King send him a red letter and a sword?'
`There's more to knighthood than a sword,' said Giles. `There's dubbing and all that, or so I understand. Anyway I've my own business to attend to.'
`Oh! but the King would do the dubbing, I don't doubt, if he were asked,' said the miller. `Let us ask him, before it is too late!'
'Nay!' said Giles. `Dubbing is not for my sort. I am a farmer and proud of it: a plain honest man and honest men fare ill at court, they say. It is more in your line, Master Miller.'
The parson smiled: not at the farmer's retort, for Giles and the miller were always giving one another as good as they got, being bosom enemies, as the saying was in Ham. The parson had suddenly been struck with a notion that pleased him, but he said no more at that time. The miller was not so pleased, and he scowled.
`Plain certainly, and honest perhaps,' said he. `But do you have to go to court and be a knight before you kill a dragon? Courage is all that is needed, as only yesterday I heard Master Aegidius declare. Surely he has as much courage as any knight?'
All the folk standing by shouted: `Of course not!' and `Yes indeed! Three cheers for the Hero of Ham!'
Then Farmer Giles went home feeling very uncomfortable. He was finding that a local reputation may require keeping up, and that may prove awkward. He kicked the dog, and hid the sword in a cupboard in the kitchen. Up till then it had hung over the fireplace.
The next day the dragon moved to the neighbouring village of Quercetum (Oakley in the vulgar tongue). He ate not only sheep and cows and one or two persons of tender age, but he ate the parson too. Rather rashly the parson had sought to dissuade him from his evil ways. Then there was a terrible commotion. All the people of Ham came up the hill headed by their own parson; and they waited on Farmer Giles.
`We look to you,' they said; and they remained standing round and looking, until the farmer's face was redder than his beard.
`When are you going to start?' they asked.
`Well, I can't start today, and that's a fact,' said he. `I've a lot on hand with my cowman sick and all. I'll see about it.'