Steven George & The Dragon
The Simple Hero
WHILE RIDING IN THE MERCHANT’S WAGON, Steven thought of a story he should tell in the evening. But his thoughts were constantly interrupted by another town coming into view or by the merchant’s desire for talkative company.
“We had another brother once,” said the merchant. “In fact, it was not until we lost him that my brother and I realized how important we all were to each other. He was a bit simple, mind you, but a good lad and I fear he took the brunt of both my brother’s and my tricks.”
“What happened to him,” Steven asked, suddenly interested.
“I wish I knew,” said the merchant. “Went off to seek his fortune. Probably drowned in the flooding of the castle in the hills. He wouldn’t have known how to get home even from there. Now there’s a story that needs telling.”
“Sometimes simple fools are the greatest teachers,” Steven replied absently. The merchant looked at him strangely.
And so, when they entered the next village and made arrangements for the night, they ate well and lazed beside the fire. The merchant announced to those wayfarers who were in the common room that his friend was about to pay a story-debt and they were all invited to listen. Steven stood beside the fire in his tall, feathered hat and stretched out his arm with the staff. The room went suddenly still.
ONCE UPON A TIME, not so long ago, and certainly not so far you couldn’t walk there from here, there lived a poor fisherman with his two sons, Samson and Simon. Now Samson was a hard worker and obeyed his father in everything he was told to do. He carted fish to market and returned with coins; he mended nets; he rowed the boat while his father fished. He even cooked meals for the three men and saw to it that his brother had clothes and food.
Simon, on the other hand was simple. In fact, he was so stupid that he could not follow the simplest instructions. His father sent him on an errand to the village and he got lost. It took Samson half the day to find him sitting near the road weeping because he didn’t know which way was home.
Finally, the fisherman said to his simple son, “Simon, I can no longer support you here. You cannot do the simplest work. Here are ten silver coins. Go seek your fortune in the world.”
Simon gladly took his father’s money and set off into the world with a light heart. When he was gone, Samson was sad, but he was a good son and helped his father until the day the old man died.
Simon set his foot to the path and wandered away from home to seek his fortune.
He no longer worried about the way to get home because he knew he would never return. He wandered freely and joyfully and his footsteps took him far away into another land. In this land strange beasts roamed and as was bound to happen one strayed across the path on which Simon was gleefully whistling as he walked.
This beast had the body of a lion, the head of a man and the wings of an eagle. Simon looked at the beast and said, “What kind of strange creature are you?”
“I am a sphinx,” said the beast, “and you shall die on this spot ere you pass by me.”
“That is rude,” said Simon. “I shall pass where I please.” With this Simon made to pass the sphinx, but it reared up on its hind legs and swatted Simon so strongly across the face that Simon fell to the ground. Simon stood and faced the sphinx again. “Both rude and cruel,” said Simon.
“I shall ask you a riddle,” said the sphinx. “If you can answer it, I will let you pass. If you fail, however, I shall kill you and eat you on the spot.”
“Very well,” said Simon. “Ask.”
“The head of kings, the tail of beasts, and when you eat, the cost of feasts. What am I?”
“Well that is silly,” said Simon. “You already told me what you are. You are a beast with the head of a man, the body of a lion, and the wings of an eagle—a sphinx. If you have another name, you haven’t been polite enough to introduce yourself.”
“The answer is not me,” the sphinx said gleefully, rising to pounce on and eat Simon.
“It certainly is,” said Simon. “You asked, ‘What am I?’ I correctly identified you. I win. If I had asked, ‘What am I?’ you would have answered a boy named Simon and I would let you pass, but I am not so stupid as to ask you what I am.”
“The question,” explained the sphinx, “was what has the head of kings, the tail of beasts and is the cost of feasts. You cannot say that it is me.”
“Do you not have the tail of a beast?” asked Simon.
“I do,” said the sphinx.
“And is your head not the head of a king, since you rule this road and all who would pass?”
“It is,” said the sphinx.
“And if I answer you correctly, will it not cost you your feast?”
“It will,” said the sphinx.
“You see, if you want to stump a clever lad like me you should not be so obvious as to ask what you are,” Simon concluded.
The sphinx paced backward and forward. It advanced on Simon and then it retreated. It muttered to itself about not being the riddle, but was bound not to kill if the answer was correct. But it could not let him pass if it wasn’t the real answer. Simon, growing tired of this impasse finally snatched up a rock and smashed the beast in the head, killing it. Simon plucked a feather from the eagle-wings of the sphinx and stuck it in his hat. Feeling proud of himself and seeing no reason to waste them, he plucked more feathers from the wings to decorate his hat. Then he put the dead beast on his shoulders and continued on his way.
He had not gone far when he saw a serpent coiled in the road. The serpent hissed at Simon and declared, “You shall not pass this way while I live, for I shall bite you with poisonous fangs and you will die and be my dinner.”
“This is a most unfriendly country,” declared Simon. “Why will you not let me pass who wishes you no harm. Slither aside and I’ll be on my way.”
“It is my nature to hunt and kill,” hissed the snake, “and I will not let you pass.”
“You said that before,” Simon said. As the snake reared back to strike, Simon hurled the body of the sphinx at it. The snake was bowled backward by the force of the impact and Simon fell upon it and cut its head off with a talon of the sphinx.
Simon was hungry and built a fire. He skinned and ate the snake meat and wrapped its skin around his feathered hat. Then he pillowed his head on the sphinx and slept the night.
In the middle of the night Simon awoke to a low moaning sound and the rattle of bones. A skeleton appeared near the fire.
“Who are you that comes moaning in the middle of the night?” Simon asked the skeleton.
“I am the bones of the outlaw Kroes,” chattered the skull. “I was hung from yon tree, but I still rise to steal and kill those who tarry here. You are surely doomed.”
“Everyone in this kingdom wants to kill poor strangers,” muttered Simon. “Come, Sir Kroes, and sit by this warm fire. It must be cold with no skin on at night. Warm your bones and tell me your story.”
The specter was so surprised by this invitation that he approached the fire and sat opposite Simon. He had never seen a man who did not run from him. He had, in fact, never been treated kindly in life or death, but Simon was too simple to be afraid of the robber any more than he had been of the sphinx or the serpent.
The skeleton began to relate his story and was frequently prompted with questions from Simon for the young man had never had such adventures and enjoyed hearing about them. The rooster was crowing afar when the skeleton jumped up from the fire and made to leave.
“Where do you go, Sir Kroes?” asked Simon.
“I must away to my grave before the sun rises,” said the skeleton. He stood to leave.
“Then shake hands with your new friend,” said Simon. “I have never heard such tales in my life and I would listen further.” The skeleton stretched out his bony hand and Simon took it in his. He held the skeleton’s hand while entreating him to return again after sundown. The skeleton agreed and attempted to pull away from Simon, but Simon kept his grip on the skeletal hand extracting promises to meet again. Before the skeleton could extract himself from Simon’s grip, the first rays of the morning sun stretched out over the land and touched the skeleton. Instantly the bones turned to dust, all except the one finger bone that Simon still gripped in his hand.
“This land is most strange,” thought Simon. Then he lodged the finger bone in his hatband, picked up the carcass of the sphinx, and continued his journey.
When he had gone a ways farther he came to a castle. The gates of the castle were closed, but it appeared to Simon that the road ran directly through it.
“Would you, too, block my way?” Simon called at the castle walls. “I have killed a sphinx, I have killed a snake, and I have turned a skeleton’s bones to dust. Open your gates and let me pass or I shall do the same to you!”
There was silence for a few moments and Simon thought he would have to shout again, but then the gates slowly creaked open the breadth of a man and the king himself stepped through.
“Is it true?” asked the king. “My kingdom has been terrorized by a sphinx on the road for lo these many years.”
“Here is that sphinx, then,” said Simon casting the carcass before the startled king.
“A great serpent has slain many people on the road to my castle,” said the king. “Is it true that you have slain it?”
“This skin that ties my hat but yesterday belonged to a serpent in the path,” said Simon. “He blocked my way, but I must seek my fortune and cannot be delayed.”
“Many years ago, a robber was hung for his crimes and his bones have haunted the road from here ever since,” said the king. “And you say he is turned to dust?”
“All is gone save this finger bone in my hat,” said Simon. “He told me stories all night, but when the morning sun touched him as he parted from me, he turned to dust and this is all that remains.”
At that the king invited Simon into the palace. He treated him royally and the princess of that castle offered herself in marriage to the brave young man. Thus, it came to pass that Simple Simon became the prince of this distant land and found his fortune. In token of his affection for his new son-in-law the king affixed the royal emblem to his hat.
This is that hat with feathers of the sphinx, skin of the serpent, and bone of the robber, with the king’s emblem emblazoned on its band.
THE CROWDED COMMONS was silent for a long moment. Then the merchant spoke.
“And you say you are that simple man?”
“Oh no,” Steven answered. “I am Steven George, the Dragonslayer. I have traveled far and when the prince heard of my quest, he gave me this hat to wear as I face the dragon.”
“I see the truth in this,” said the merchant.
The crowded chamber emptied slowly, for each person wanted to touch the fabled hat that Steven wore before he retired and slept soundly for the night.
Comments
Please feel free to send comments to the author at nathan@nathaneverett.com.
