Godfrey and the Dragon

It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. Their breath clouded the air, the ground crackled as they walked towards the cave. Sir Jonah crouched low, and motioned for the others to do as well. No telling what lay in wait for them. No telling at all.

“Father, do you have the torch ready?” Sir Jonah hissed back at the priest.

The priest fumbled in his sack, first pulling out the counting device that Pope Sylvester commanded him to take along to give to the Bishop of Samiarland. The priest cursed under his breath, and then said a short prayer, placed it back into the bag, and then produced the torch, along with a flint.

“Forgive me, Sir Jonah, but I have it here now,” he handed to the knight, “shouldn’t we first go see the Bishop before undertaking this task?”

The knight glowered at him. “Why? The pope tasked me with success, not to cozy up to the bishop. If it had been my choice, I would just let the dragon have this god-forsaken land. Good Christian men have no need to be in such a place. Godfrey, find some additional suitable branches. We are going to need more.”

Godfrey nodded, and tramped back down the hill through the blinding snow. He wore more fur than armor, and it still wasn’t enough to keep the viscous cold out. More torches would help.

The land was heavily forested, and what little light was around reflected off the snow. He found the horses easy enough, tired to several trees and Breber tending a growing fire as he maintained the camp. “Ho, good Godfrey? I thought you would have entered the beast’s lair by now?”

“No. The lordship wants heat and light before going in. I am to fetch suitable wood for additional torches.”

“Fear not, goodman, for I have several that would suffice,” Breber handed him a bundle of thick sticks, “You ever been so cold in your life?”

Godfrey had not. Dalmatia never got this cold. He had never seen the outside of it until Sir Jonah came, offering silver for good men to come with him. He said he was on a pilgrimage to Rome, going to offer his sword to the Pope. A worthy cause indeed, so Godfrey said yes. He found out later that Sir Jonah had fled from Hungary, having opposed and been defeated by Stephen who by this time was likely King.

“No Breber, I have not. Thank you for the wood.”

“Praise God so that it may keep you warm.”

Godfrey nodded, and walked back carrying the bundle. Even in the heavy snow, his tracks were still visible, so he didn’t worry about getting lost.

***

When they reached Rome, Godfrey felt lost. The ancient streets, the buildings larger than anything he had ever seen before and the ghosts of the past all spun his mind. The city seemed empty, with many districts still rubble from the last sack of the city. He didn’t feel the presence of Jesus or God, until the summons came.

Sir Jonah was called to Saint Peter’s Basilica, to meet the Pope. Godfrey made sure to wash himself in the Tiber that morning, and shaved himself clean. They were ushered into a small room shortly after they arrived, and the Vicar of Christ was there, a venerable man seated in a simple chair, flanked by a tonsured priest in a gray robe.

“My brothers, many thanks for coming to see me,” Sylvester held out his hand, to which Sir Jonah knelt and kissed his ring, and then stood, “I’m not a man of pleasantries, so shall I tell you why I have sent for you?”

“Of course, your Eminence. I am your humble servant,” Sir Jonah’s voice cracked ever so slightly.

Sylvester removed a letter from his robe, “I received this from a Bishop Haakonan. Can you read Sir Jonah?”

Jonah shook his head. Godfrey was certain that the only people in this room who could were Sylvester and the priest.

“I’ll tell you what it contains then. A fell beast, a dragon, has claimed his lands and brought winter of such ferocity that the Bishop fears for the Christians under his care.”

“Where is this Bishopric my lord?” Sir Jonah shifted on his feet.

“Near the mouth of a river at the farthest northern reaches of the Baltic. I wasn’t even aware that servants of God had reached those distant lands, but this letter proves they have. I am tasking you with driving this creature away, Sir Jonah, or dispatching it.”

Godfrey could hear Sir Jonah’s body stiffen under his mail. “Your holiness, I fear I don’t have the silver for such an expedition.”

Sylvester leaned forward in his chair. “Mother Church will aid you. And any good Christians you meet along the way shall assist you. I would like to see this matter resolved by Christmas, if possible. I think honoring our Lord Jesus with the defeat of this devilish dragon would be a suitable penance for any sins you have or might commit, Sir Jonah. Such a victory over the devil would be quite the gift for a thousand years of our Lord.”

Godfrey understood, as well as Sir Jonah. He accepted, and was handed a pouch of coin. The Pope also gave them Father Conon, the priest who attended the gathering. Sir Jonah hired several more men, and within a week, they set off.

A dozen men left Rome, spirits high. They reached the Baltic four months later, down to eight. The Pope was correct, good Christians did assist them, often with just a little encouragement from Conon. What he didn’t say was that there were more pagans than Christians in these lands. Blood was split on several occasions, and Conon held several burials.

Two more died on the waters of the sea. Viking raiders attacked, and nearly ended the quest, but they escaped with their loss. There was a small fishing village at the mouth of the river, and the boat would stay there while they dealt with the dragon. Sir Jonah asked the villages where the Bishop’s residence lay, the only thing they could understand was the villagers pointing up the river.

Only a few leagues from the coast, a brutal bitter gale out of the north assaulted them, and white flakes began to pummel them after that. Three hard days, and then they saw a small hut sheltering under a giant tree.

The shivering old man inside spoke a bit of Latin. He stated there was no way to reach the Bishop, the storm was too bad. When Sir Jonah asked about the dragon, he clammed up, and it took cajoling from Father Conon to get anything further out of him.

The man stated that the dragon’s cave was only a day from him, but no one returned from there. We took advantage of the man’s hearth, and left in the morning.

***

Father Conon huddled under a tree and looked up at Godfrey as he approached. “My good man, the rest have gone inside. The men refused to wait in this hellish weather when shelter lies right there.”

“Father, why didn’t you go in yourself?”

“My son, I’m no warrior. I’m just here to spread the word of Jesus and the Pope’s gift as far as I can. I wanted to make sure you returned. Go there now, so sense staying out in this. I’ll head back to camp.”

Godfrey watched Conon disappear into the white. He didn’t understand why Conon was here, but appreciated him nevertheless. The priest often became useful in dealing with people, and he couldn’t see why in dealing with a demonic creature he wouldn’t be.

He reached the cave entrance, its walls slick in gleaming ice. Godfrey could have sworn that it was colder in the cave than outside it. His boots crunched ice crystals as he walked. Darkness held him up before he could go deeper, but he hadn’t found the rest of the party. Where were they?

Godfrey reached into his belt pouch, and removed his flint. If he was going to search this place, he needed light. He wrapped the top of one of them in a rag, and lit it. He held it high, and advanced into the cave.

Instead of narrowing, the cave widened. Soon the torchlight couldn’t reach the ceiling, and Godfrey looked up spotting fingers of rock and ice jutting down to be illuminated out of the darkness. He nearly tripped over something that jammed his foot, and then he looked down. A body.

He knelt beside it. The man lay face down, and he was cold to the touch. Godfrey turned him over. He wasn’t one of his party. The body had a pendant of an anvil around his neck, his face covered in a golden beard. A Dane. Still no sign of Sir Jonah. Godfrey moved on.

He walked around a frozen boulder, and then saw a statue of ice, the size of a man in the middle of the floor. The light danced off of it, but even so, Godfrey could see a that inside was a warrior. He gasped, and dropped the torch. The sound echoed off the far walls of the cavern.

When they died down, a low rumble emerged from the dark, shaking Godfrey’s mail with its growing intensity, before becoming words that Godfrey could understand. “Who goes there, trespassing in my domain?”

Warm flowed down Godfrey’s pants, and he dropped to the ground. The voice spoke again.

“Who goes there? Tell me, before I kill you. Don’t be a coward.”

Godfrey’s blood would boil at the accusation, but he was too busy crawling behind the boulder to consider it. The ground trembled as the voice came closer.

“I know you are there. I can see your pitiful light. Come into it. I will grant you safe passage.”

A small sack flew out of the darkness, landing near Godfrey. He waited for a few moments, and then retrieved it. It contained a small salt block, and some frozen bread. He licked the salt, and chopped off a small piece of the bread, so he could warm it in his mouth before eating it. When we finished consuming it, he stood up.

“I accept dragon. Now show yourself.”

The enormous creature’s head came out of the inky blackness, and some of its body. Its skull was the size of a house, its fangs the length of greatswords. It had pale white scales covering its entire body, and two muscular scaled legs jutted out from its torso. Godfrey could hear its wings flapping gently behind it. And curiously, its paws were covered in woven mittens, with a curved claw poking out of one of them.

“You aren’t like the others.”

Others? “What has happened to Sir Jonah?”

“The one who came before you? He sleeps. As do the others who came with him.”

“I wish to see to them. Show me, dragon.”

The dragon reared up. “Don’t think you can command me, creature. I am in a curious mood, so I will forgive such impertinence this once. Don’t test me again.”

Godfrey knelt. “Thank you milord. I am ignorant in dealing with creatures like yourself. I am no priest.”

The dragon tilted his head, “Priest? What is this?”

Godfrey rose, “A man who speaks the word of God. A learned and holy man. We have such a man in our camp.”

The dragon snorted. “Come. See your companions.”

The dragon motioned with his head the way, and Godfrey followed. He whispered the Pater Noster to himself for protection, and clenched his bowels to squeeze out the fear.

At the back of the cavern, the rest of his party lay on the ice. Godfrey could see that breath still came from them, but they would not be roused. “What spell has been cast on them?”

The dragon lowered his massive head to look closely at Godfrey. “They interrupted my meal, so I made them slumber. Unlike the first group, they were content to try to force me out by words. The others just screamed Valhalla and tried to cut me.”

“You killed the Danes?”

“Is that what they are? I haven’t been in these lands for long, so I don’t know what you call yourself here. Are you Danes as well?”

Godfrey shook his head. “No, we are Christian men, sent by the Pope in Rome to aid the Christians against this unholy winter that grips these lands. We are charged with driving you away or killing you.”

The dragon made a noise that Godfrey took as a laugh. “Really? What did I do to this Pope? I have never been to a place called Rome.”

Godfrey thought for a moment, trying to find the right words. Perhaps this creature could be reasoned with, as Sir Jonah was still alive. “This storm hurts the Christians who live here. They asked the Pope to send us. Why do you do this? Has Satan commanded you?”

The dragon bared its sharp teeth. “Have I not told you? No one commands me. Has this Satan said that he does? Tell me where to find him. I shall kill him for lying about me.”

Godfrey smiled. “If you do not serve the Prince of Darkness, perhaps you count the Lord Jesus as an ally? Perhaps you didn’t know what suffering you are causing. Grace me with your name, mighty dragon, so that I can tell you about him.”

The dragon tilted his head again, “Your simple mouth couldn’t say it properly, but your kind have called me Frostfang.”

Godfrey sat down on a frozen block of stone. “Mighty Frostfang, the birth of Christ nears, perhaps it has come while we traveled here. He came to save us from our sins, and give us eternal life.”

“I have not heard of Christ. How can a child do this? Men are a weak race, their children even more so.”

“He is the Son of Man, and the Son of God,” Godfrey looked directly at the dragon’s white eyes, in defiance of his bladder, “and he suffered on the cross, died, and rose from the dead on the third day, fulfilling the scriptures.”

Frostfang scratched his horned chin. “How does a man with axe and shield know such things? I have found man to be an ignorant race.”

“I have spent months on the road with our priest, who has educated me and the others to the deeper mysteries.”

“I should speak with this priest. If you speak truth, perhaps I can have this eternal life as well.”

“Forgive me, Frostfang, but I thought the stories said that dragons live forever?”

Frostfang snorted, a blast of frozen air freezing Godfrey’s face. “It only seems that way to you. We can and do die. Bring this priest to me. I will hear his words.”

Godfrey stood and bowed, “May I ask a boon for this?”

Frostfang scraped his exposed claw against the wall of the cavern, “You are brave indeed. What do you want?”

Godfrey breathed deeply, blinked slowly, and looked back into the dragon’s eyes. “After hearing Father Conon’s words, you provide relief to the good people of these lands.”

“I will do so now. You are most interesting, man.”

“My name is Godfrey.”

“Godfrey, fetch the priest. Your companions will rest, and be returned to you at the conclusion of our dealings.”

Godfrey exited as quickly as he could. The storm has subsided outside, the temperature warming a little, and the wind dying down. Father Conon agreed to meet with little opposition. Godfrey assumed that the possibility of converting a dragon to Christ was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up.

Sir Jonah took a little more convincing. He threatened to kill the dragon, but when Father Conon interceded and took a blow meant for Frostfang, the dragon grew fond of the priest. He banished Jonah outside of the cave. Conon forgave him after being bandaged, and explained that Frostfang was potentially going to follow Christ. Sir Jonah offered to fetch the Bishop for a baptism.

The bishop arrived with ten men, who all nearly fled when the dragon emerged from another entrance of the cave. He immersed himself in the freezing waters of the river, and the Bishop and Father Conon said prayers over him. Frostfang for his part appeared pleased.

The party departed for home soon after. Father Conon promised to return, and would bear a gift of a copy of the Vulgate for Frostfang for his use. Frostfang promised to look after the small group of Christians here, and to keep the worst of winter away from them.

“Godfrey,” Father Conon sat on the bench next to him, “how did you manage to converse with him? Such a powerful creature, you had to know that your life could be forfeit at any time.”

“I did manage, Father, thanks to you,” Godfrey leaned back, “I trusted in Christ, to guide me. I knew what to say because of you. And now, a Christmas miracle in these distant lands came to be. That's the only real explanation I have. Jesus walked with me.”

Conon nodded. “Of course my son. A miracle that could have only been foreseen by God. Praise him.”

Godfrey wouldn’t have believed it himself. He smiled. Hopefully he would survive the journey home. He didn’t want this tale to die.