Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The next day, Nathaniel set off on a quest to slay the dragon. His armor made him feel like he was wearing a very small prison, and he was riding a very old and ornery horse that did not make the ride any more comfortable, with its habit of stumbling on every alternate step. He rode west, came to a fork in the road, and seriously considered taking the wrong path to go and find a new life. At seventeen, he was more than old enough to make his own way in the world. But he knew he couldn’t neglect his duty. Like it or not, he was the King’s oldest son. He was expected to do great things. With that in mind, he rode down the path to Nottingham.

Nottingham turned out to be the most depressed little place Nathaniel had ever seen. All of the inhabitants were going about their daily chores, but they all looked very sad, like someone they knew had died. Nathaniel decided to find out why. He rode up to a large woman who was doing her washing. She was a strong commoner-woman, not like the dainty ladies at the palace. She attacked her washboard with the strength of a bull. In a way, she reminded him of Maya. He smiled.

“Hello,” said Nathaniel brightly. “How are you this fine day?” The woman stared at him.

Nathaniel tried again. “My name’s Nathaniel,” he said. “What’s yours?”

The woman laughed heartily. “You’re the King’s son, aren’t you?”

“Um…yes…”

“You aren’t very kingly, are you? You’re a skinny little thing. You could use some common cooking. My youngest daughter’s bigger than you,” said the woman, still chuckling.

Nathaniel decided to change the subject. “Why does everybody look so depressed?”

The woman’s expression darkened. She beckoned him closer. “We are sad, Prince Nathaniel, because today is Lottery Day. It’s the day when one of our young maidens is sacrificed to the evil dragon.”

Nathaniel was horrified. “Why?”

“Because if we don’t the dragon will eat all of our sheep,” said the washerwoman. Understanding came to her eyes. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Nathaniel, sitting up straighter.

“All right, little Prince Nathaniel. Go and slay our dragon. And try not to get killed.”

Nathaniel grinned. Someone, at least, wanted him to succeed. He rode away from the woman and up a hill. Something told him that was where the dragon was.

He was right. At the top of the hill was a cave. And in the cave was a dragon. The Dragon was the biggest creature Nathaniel had ever seen. It barely fit in its cave. It was a mixture of all different colors-blue and green and red and orange and several others Nathaniel had never seen before. It skin was scaly. It had a long neck, and from that neck protruded a huge head covered in the same bright scales as the rest of its body. It yawned, and in its mouth Nathaniel could see huge fangs. Its black eyes were as big as Nathaniel’s fist, and the eyes looked-how could that be possible?-sad. Then Nathaniel realized that the dragon was missing its wings. The poor beast couldn’t fly. He didn’t want to kill it.

It was then that he saw the maiden. She was sitting with her knees clasped to her chest. Her red hair obscured her face. She was wearing a white dress with no shoes. Nathaniel couldn’t believe that her own neighbors would allow her to be eaten by a monster, a monster that Nathaniel knew he couldn’t bring himself to kill. He hoped for the girl’s sake that his brother Soren could. He looked at the scene one last time, and then rode away, feeling that perhaps riding off to find a new life would have been a better plan after all.

When he came back to the palace, his brother and sister were sitting on opposite sides of a chessboard in one of the sitting rooms. Maya was looking out the window. She seemed bored.

“Come on, Maya, it’s your move!” said Soren impatiently. Maya looked intensely at the board. She seemed to be concentrating. Soren looked away, thinking it was going to be a long wait--and Maya made her move. She managed to use one of her bishops to capture his queen and checkmate the King at the same time.

Maya tapped her brother on the shoulder. “Wake up, Soren. I’ve made my move.”

Soren looked at the board. “Well done, Maya,” he said. “You’ve learned well.”

“Learned? I taught myself.”

“No, you didn’t, I taught you!”

“Did not.” Nathaniel entered the room hastily, before the bickering turned into an argument. “I went to Nottingham,” he said. “I talked to a woman doing her washing. She said that the dragon was about to eat one of their maidens.”

“Did you get it?” said Soren. He tried to disguise it, but both Nathaniel and Maya could see the eagerness in his eyes.

“No,” said Nathaniel wearily. “It’s a sad creature, really. It doesn’t have any wings.”

Soren didn’t even hear him. His mind was filled with heroic images-Soren slaying the dragon, Soren bringing back the skin of the dragon, Soren impressing the village girls with his armor…He shook the last image out of his mind and stood up. “I’m off,” he said in what he hoped to be a manly, commanding tone. Then he strode out of the room.

“Want to play chess?” Maya asked Nathaniel. “I’ve gotten pretty good…”

“No, thanks,” said Nathaniel. “See, that’s what happens when you get too good. No one wants to play with you anymore.”

Maya scowled and left in search of an unwitting victim, leaving Nathaniel alone with his thoughts.

When Soren arrived in the village of Nottingham, he didn’t notice the depressed expressions on the faces of the townspeople. His head was too filled with visions of glory. His armor was freshly polished, his horse was newly shod, and he had brought his most impressive sword. He definitely looked the part of the brave and daring rescuer, if he did say so himself.

Soren spotted a peasant woman outside of her house, washing clothes. He remembered Nathaniel talking about the woman who told him about the dragon, and rode closer to her.

“Hail and well met, woman,” he said mightily.

The woman looked impressed. “Well now. You’re a sight to be seen. Wearing your daddy’s armor, are you? You must be the King’s other son. You’re quite a bit manlier than the other one, I’ll give you that, but it’ll be a bit before you grow into that sword of yours.”

Soren drew his sword. It was a beautiful weapon. The hilt was studded with the amethysts Bellicia was famous for. The blade sparkled in the sunlight.

“This was my father’s sword,” he said. “It’s the one he used to fight all of his famous battles.”

“And this was my mother’s washboard,” said the woman. “It’s the one she used to wash all of her famous clothes.”

“You’re still washing clothes, then?” said Soren. “My brother told me about you. You must have a lot of clothes to wash.”

“I don’t just wash clothes, lad,” said the woman. “I wash sheets, blankets, handkerchiefs, everything. I do all the washing for the whole village. That’s my job- village washerwoman.”

“And how much are you paid?” said Soren, who was interested in how the various towns of Bellicia operated. After all, if he succeeded in his quest, he’d be King someday!

“I’m not paid,” said the woman. “We do things differently here in Nottingham.

Everyone has a job-there are people who hunt the food, people who prepare the food, people who make the clothes, people who wash the clothes, everything. We don’t use money, because everyone helps each other out. Everyone has all they need.”

Soren was fascinated. He would definitely tell his father about this. The whole Kingdom could take advice from this little village.

The village did, however, have one rather large flaw-the fact that it was being terrorized by a maiden-eating dragon. Something would have to be done about that, of course. He asked the woman, “Where is the dragon that is causing all these problems?”

“Up that hill,” said the woman, pointing. “In a cave. You’ll see it. It’s hard to miss.”

Soren saluted to the woman and rode off, sword pointed forward. Several villagers stared at him as they passed, but Soren didn’t notice. His horse galloped up the hill. Soren tensed. This was exciting. He was going to prove once and for all that he would make a good King.

When he reached the mouth of the cave, he saw the dragon. It was huge and ugly, full of colors and scales and spikes. It opened its mouth, showing gigantic teeth. Soren dismounted his horse, ran forward and jabbed his sword into the dragon’s side. The sword bounced off. Soren cursed under his breath. Those scales were tough. He thrust at it again, this time hard enough to alert the creature. It turned its great head and looked at him with something approximating surprise.

Soren jabbed the sword into the top of its long neck. The neck had less scales than the rest of its body. The dragon let out a strangely human bellow of pain and turned its snout toward Soren, who could see it was about to incinerate him with its fiery breath. He quickly ran around to the other side and was about to stab it in the eye when the dragon hit him from behind with the back of its tail.

The blow from the dragon’s tail caused Soren more pain than he had ever felt in his life. He fell to the ground and lay there in absolute terror. There, on the floor of the dragon’s cave, he realized something. It was all well and good to train to fight soldiers and knights. It was great to learn tactics and history. But nothing he had ever learned in his cozy life at the palace had prepared him for fighting an actual, live dragon. He remembered that he wasn’t a great hero yet. He was thirteen years old, and he had rode into this with absolutely no thought to the consequences.

And now he was going to die. He knew that. The dragon’s head was looming over him, coming ever closer. Any moment now and it was going to open its jaws and grab him. And then-impossibly, wonderfully, the dragon paused. It looked at him with reluctance in his eyes. Was that possible? Did beasts have morals?

Soren grabbed his sword and ran out of the dragon’s way. He knew the fight was over. There was no way he could beat the thing. But there was no one left to save the maiden.