"There is a forgotten, nay almost forbidden word, which means more to me than any other. That word is England." – Winston Churchill

Date: April 23rd, 2017

Occasion: Saint George's Day

Country: England

Hint: Read the first letter of each paragraph downwards.

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VII | The Rose of a Dead Knight

Smears of white clouds brushed the blue backdrop of Silene, a town of lush nature. But with the blessings of nature also came curses, and this one prevailed in the form of a dragon. Each of its breaths expelled a cloud of plague, silencing heartbeats everywhere. To appease the beast, the folks of Silene lead two sheep to the countryside each morning, where the dragon tore apart their flesh. Once the sheep became scarce, however, they were forced to exploit another source of dragon food. A sacrifice cruel beyond words. They fed the dragon the youth. Their own children.

A terrified audience watched as a tall man reached into his hat. His fingers grasped a piece of paper, pulled it out, unfurled it. Everyone knew what was on that paper. A name. The name of a child. It could be anyone's child. No one was safe. On the left of the man stood a young boy, clutching his mother's hand, knuckles white. Tear tracks streaked their faces. He was the first chosen for today. The second was moments away from being announced. The tall man raised his head, his curtain of hair falling away. For the first time, the public saw his skeleton cheeks, which were drained of color, and once he read out the name, they discovered why.

It was the King's daughter. No one could have foretold such an incident, that the child of the most powerful man in the land would be sacrificed by the cruel lottery organized by his own subjects. It was rare for a nation to see much of their royal superiors, but Silene was an exception. Each morning, the latter visited a string of houses, delivering loaves of bread and chirping a friendly hello to passers-by. She spent lots of time in the paddocks, stroking the sheep, every one of which flocked around her, bleating for her attention. But at this moment, no one could meet her eyes.

"No!" the King cried as the princess picked her way towards the boy who was first chosen. Anguish flashed across his weary face, where wrinkles were beginning to develop. He rose from his seat beside the tall man, his proud features reduced to panic. The King's outburst silenced the whispers of his people, whose eyes were laced with guilt. "Not her," he said, terror cracking his voice. Even his daughter faltered in her step, her sky blue dress billowing in the sharp winds of dawn. "I will offer you anything in exchange for her life. Half my kingdom, with my gold and silver. Take it all."

The adults considered it, for they were eager to familiarize themselves with the taste of riches. But once they caught sight of their children, who had seen so little of the world, some shook their heads, while others wrapped an arm around their children. Seeing his argument was lost, the King sobbed, rushing to his daughter and enveloping her in one last embrace. She met his teary eyes with a mask of bravery, lips feathering his cheek with a final kiss. Once the King finally released his daughter, she was whisked away to prepare for the sacrifice.

Getting ready for the event was torturous, the princess thought. Layers upon layers of white silk were forced upon her, the gown trailing limply behind. Once the princess was zipped up, she was ushered towards the lake where the dragon lived. The area was undisturbed, grass swaying in the breeze, the lake smooth as glass. It was hard to imagine that a ferocious dragon had snapped up a young boy here an hour ago. The princess inhaled the crisp air and waited for the beast to attack, sweat beading her palms, though her jaw was set in resilience. If she were to die, she would be killed with honor. She would die with her chin raised.

Earlier that day, however, a knight by the name of Saint George had set out on a horseback ride. He needed some fresh air after a week cooped up in the nook of a castle, drawing out battle plans. Blurs of mountains and forests flew past his vision, but a figure on the edge of a crystal blue lake caught his eye. Saint George tugged on his reins and the horse he rode obediently slowed to a trot. He came to a stop beside the princess. "What are you doing here, fair maiden?" he called out, hopping off his steed and striding confidently towards her. "Enjoying the view? This lake does seem magical, but I personally stopped to greet the beauty standing before it."

Opportunities to meet knights were scarce in Silene, so his appearance took the princess by surprise. Her eyes widened and she tried to shoo him away. "Leave this place while you can," she warned him. "I don't want you to be a victim of the dragon. The death of a knight would only wreak further havoc on my town." But Saint George stopped listening after he heard about the dragon, pestering the princess about it until she reluctantly told him the tale of her sacrifice. He was aghast to hear that a beauty such as she would die soon, and vowed to slay the beast. No matter how many times the princess ordered him to leave, Saint George refused to heed her commands.

Rumbles began to bubble the lake water while the two were bickering. The scaly snout of the dragon poked out above the surface, its beady eyes fixed on its next meal. The princess, who was facing the lake, shouted in alarm. Saint George whirled around as the dragon emerged, water droplets splashing everywhere as its powerful wings cut the air. It snarled at them, smoke streaming from its nostrils. The knight hoisted himself on his horse, making a sign of the cross with his fingers, before snatching up his lance and charging the dragon. His blow struck home and sent the dragon whimpering as its side bled crimson, jets of fire streaming out of its snout. Saint George tugged at the reins, slowing his horse down to a stop.

"Girdle! Pass me the girdle!" the knight shouted at the princess, whose initial shock quickly dissipated into adrenalin. She grabbed the girdle lying a few feet away from her and tossed it to Saint George, who caught it deftly. He jogged over to the wounded dragon and put the girdle around its neck. The beast let out a piteous moan, but was too weakened to attack him. "Come," the knight beckoned the princess over, whose wedding gown was soaked with lake water, but she was otherwise unharmed. Saint George pointed to the girdle. "The dragon will follow you wherever you lead it. I would slay it here, but I have a proposal in mind for your townspeople in exchange for my services. Shall we take it back to Silene?"

Every rational part of her mind warned her against it, but the princess stepped towards the beast, reaching for the girdle. As her fingers wrapped around the strap, the dragon wobbled to its clawed feet. She gave the rope a tug and the beast inched forwards. The princess glanced back at Saint George, who jerked his head towards the town. The two began making the journey back. Once they reached Silene, the townspeople stirred, peeking out of their windows. and were astonished to see their princess safe. Crowds spilled onto the street to embrace her, but reared back at the sight of the dragon. Though mortally wounded, its enormity alone was enough to send the bravest men quaking in their boots.

"One injured dragon, at your disposal!" Saint George announced to the terrified crowd. A plump woman pushed her children behind her while a reedy man let out a whimper. "Fear not, I will slay it for you, but for a price." The crowd hushed at his words. "I am Saint George, the knight who took down this beast. However, my feat was only accomplished with the aid of God." At the name, several eyebrows shot up. No one in Silene was a Christian, but the knight was not discouraged by this. He spread his arms and stated his proposal boldly. "Thus, as compensation for slaying this dragon, I ask you all to convert to Christianity."

Shock rippled throughout the townspeople. The air soon turned thick with protests. The princess raised an eyebrow at Saint George, who winked back at her and gave the girdle a tug. The dragon responded by blowing a column of flames upwards, triggering alarmed shouts from the crowd as they scrambled to distance themselves from the beast. The people soon relented and were baptized Catholics. The King readily agreed to the ordeal too, for he was grateful to see his daughter again.

Delighted at the success of his proposal, Saint George heeded his own word and drove a spear into the dragon, putting the creature out of its misery. The body was transported out of the city on four enormous carts, a sight the townspeople cheered at. From then on, Silene was a peaceful land. To honor his devotion to Christianity and repay the debt of the knight, the King built churches to the Blessed Virgin Mary and Saint George where the dragon died. The altar he built became the source of a magical spring, and the water which flowed from it could cure any disease.

A mark of bloodshed was inevitable, especially with a creature so large. Dragon blood stained the soil of the town and pooled at the center, where the creature had been slain. Though the blood trails soaked into the earth, the pool invigorated the growth of a luscious bush. The roses which grew from it were the richest red anyone had ever seen. Saint George plucked a rose and offered it to the princess with a flourish. Though taken aback, she accepted it with a chuckle. The rose lived on for months thereafter, blooming beautifully in a glass vase. It served as a reminder of the folk tale that many Silene townspeople would tell their children, passing the name of Saint George from generation to generation.

Years and years of prosperity graced Silene from then on. The town saw empires rise and fall, emperors come and go. Even when Saint George was long dead, his legacy lived on. His tale was whispered to children before they drifted to sleep, his figure carved into stone, pieced into mosaics. When the knight was laid to rest, the town wept as one. A single rose bloomed upon his grave, as nature itself commemorated his chivalrous act. The legend of Saint George lived on through the ages, spreading far and wide, and the knight was proclaimed a hero by many a nation.

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This chapter spoke of the legend of a Roman soldier, Saint George. He is the patron saint of England due to his devotion to Christianity for which he was beheaded. He was killed because paganism was the state religion of the Roman Empire at the time, and defying the state religion under the public eye meant betraying the Empire, which resulted in death. Although Saint George was a real soldier during Roman times, the legend of him slaying the dragon is fictional.