Ad Maiorem Dei Gloriam
+JMJ+
May Our Lady of the Most Holy Rosary grant success to this attempt at pleasing Her and Her children with a story.
Last time: After running away from home and being chased through the woods by a cat, Bill met with a knight named Phillip, who had been separated from his fellow knights to save the kingdom of Corcrist from an evil dragon. On the way, they met a strange hermit named Br. Christopher, who joined them to assist the good people in their spiritual desolation. In an overgrown forest, all three were captured by evil, self-indulgent dryads and locked in a cage where they were harrassed by one of Phillip’s own friends who had joined the dryads. They escaped just to meet a ferocious werewolf which turned out to be another of Phillip’s friends. Finally returning to the road, a group of men in dark, hooded robes stood in their way led by the last of Phillip’s comrades, Ignatius, who had sworn allegiance to the dragon. This villainous traitor made no effort to stall them, trusting his new master’s power to defeat Phillip. Approaching Corcrist, they met the Queen Esther who politely told them to go away just before the dragon appeared, and Phillip four with it. After the dragon flew away, Phillip fell unconscious and was brought into Corcrist to be healed. Having woken up, he suggests that they attack the dragon in its own lair where Esther stabs the dragon in one last desperate attack. Wounded, the beast flies away to reak vengeance on Corcrist while its defenders are away…
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The sound of the dragon’s cries echoed throughout the valley. Br. Christopher turned towards Martha with raised eyebrows.
Since the queen had left, he and Martha had been entrusted with leading the people. For several hours, the monk had preached and reassured them that God heard their cries. They were not forgotten, and He would surely answer their prayers if they had faith and trusted in Jesus’s mercy. ‘God hears the cry of the poor.’ When he was done speaking, women started gathering around the old priest begging for him to baptize their babies. It had been so long since their priest had been killed by the dragon, and everyone had felt too overwhelmed to organize a baptism. Now, a sense of urgency gripped them to waste no more time. One of the children was so big that she personally asked for her first communion too. Moved by their entreaties, Br. Christopher coordinated to say Mass in the church but knew that he needed to hear these people’s confessions first. Many of them had not been able to confess for years now, and it was most of the young people’s first. Afterwards, he baptized all of the babies. The baptisms alone took half an hour. Then, the monk turned toward the altar and celebrated Mass. He even gave the young girl her first communion along with nearly everyone else in the town. A few stragglers grabbed him as he made his way to the sacristy begging for him to hear their confession as well. Of course, he couldn’t refuse and rushed to a quiet place with them. This went on until Martha finally demanded that Br. Christopher take a rest to eat something. Practically dragged towards the dining hall by his hair, the old man admitted that he had worked himself to the point of exhaustion and needed food before he went on serving the flock. Despite this acknowledgement, Martha soon found herself tapping the ground impatiently as the old man stopped at what felt like every street corner where a new mob waited for a blessing.
Sitting in the dining hall, he smiled at her and said, “are you happy now?”
“Not until you get something in your belly,” she answered. “You look like you’ll waste away to nothing at any second.”
Just before he had taken his first bite of bread though, the dragon’s fierce roars began. Soon, flames were shooting out from the mountainsides.
Martha stared at the sight in horror. “Heavens! It must be the dear queen,” Martha moaned with tears in her eyes. “She’s dead, and all those brave men with her.”
“Take comfort, Martha,” Br. Christopher said. “Those sound like cries of pain, not triumph.”
Martha paused. “I believe you’re right, brother! Oh, but she’s dead either way, even if she did manage to kill the overgrown lizard.”
Beyond either of their wildest fears, the dragon’s ghastly wings started turning around the mountain. Instead of its usual composure and confidence, however, its flapping seemed labored and sporadic. On several occasions, it almost plummeted to the ground. In these moments, the entire town gasped together with anticipation and sighed with fright as it found its strength again to inch closer and closer.
The first to compose herself, Martha yelled, “Ring the bells! To battle stations all of you! I’m not waiting around for that pile of scales to catch us napping. All of you to positions. I want archers on the wall. Spearmen to me. The rest of you be ready with the water and stay out of sight.”
The bells tolled out almost as loud as the calls of the dragon, and the citizens moved like ants, each with his own purpose. In a few seconds, groups formed, and what remained of Corcrist’s soldiers were stationed at the ready. Before long, the whole town was totally still as it waited for this final encounter.
Jolting and uncertain, the dragon glided towards the gates. It fell to the ground clumsily and dropped like a rock sending dirt everywhere. Esther’s spear could still be seen stuck deep within its chest. At a call from Martha, the archers let fly a volley. Most of the arrows skipped off harmlessly, but a few found shallow marks. This elicited yet another shout from the dragon and a burst of flames that sent the archers diving beneath the wall.
“You incompetent wastes of space!” the dragon crowed hoarsely. “I will rip this city apart and burn the dust of what’s left. You weak, pathetic race of pigs.”
It barreled through the gates, and the strong, oaken beams shattered. The hinges of the doors hung warped. Several of the spearmen standing near the door were hit by the debris, and the rest began to cower.
“Stand strong, men!” Martha encouraged, “On my call, read-”
Before she could finish, Br. Christopher stepped forward several paces in front of the chaotic line of spears.
Shaking the wood from its horns, the dragon’s eyes fell on the bent old man.
“Oh, another priest. No wonder they were so willing to challenge me. They must be newly shriven.” It tried to chuckle, but it stopped suddenly in pain. “I thought I killed all of you already. Well, now is as good as ever.”
The dragon lumbered forward proudly. Faster than anyone could have imagined, Br. Christopher tucked and rolled beneath the dragon’s legs. Surprised, the beast faltered and tried to move, but it was too late.
In one swift motion, Br. Christopher grabbed the spear that Esther had left in the dragon’s side. He firmly pressed inwards and pulled out with all of his might. Tearing and rending on its way, the spear came. Black sludge poured out from the open wound spewing onto Br. Christopher.
“Get back! Get back!” Martha yelled at the soldiers. “Don’t let its blood touch you. It’s deadly.”
Finally, with one last effort, the dragon wailed and fell, dead. Beside it, drenched in black blood lay Br. Christopher breathing heavily.
The townspeople rushed to him with towels, wrapped him carefully, avoiding the blood, and pulled him far away from his slain foe. Several more poured the water they had prepared for fires onto him, but the old man hardly noticed and even started wheezing with an evil-sounding cough.
“Put him on a stretcher and bring him to the infirmary at once!” Martha ordered.
Once in a bed, Br. Christopher continued his labored breathing with Martha doing her best to ease the pain. She sent several boys to scour the library for anything that might help cure him, but, in her heart, she knew that it was in vain. No one had ever survived killing a dragon, let alone at such close quarters. Weighed down by her hopelessness, she moved across the room slowly and found it difficult to keep herself busy through the hours of waiting.
Like an explosion, Queen Esther and Phillip barged into the room. Close behind, Bill followed along with Jerome and Roderick holding a bound Ignatius.
“How is he?” Esther asked as she placed her regal fingers on the blessed hermit’s pale forehead.
“Not good, ma’am,” Martha answered. “He’s said nothing and grown weaker and weaker by the minute. I fear it’s the end.”
Phillip leaned over his suffering friend. “You holy fool,” he said. “Don’t you know it should be me on this bed? Mine was the task to slay the beast and yours to save the people.”
“Who is this?” Ignatius asked drearily.
“Silence, nave!” Phillip warned “Or I will see that your unworthy tongue never finds another sacrilegious syllable to spit. Before you lies Br. Christopher, a monk whose only purpose in coming with me was to serve the people of Corcrist, yet here he lies the very man who slayed your demonic master.”
“He came with you?” Ignatius persisted incredulously. “I–I don’t remember him.”
“Nor would your proud eyes deign to behold a man so humble and righteous. Yet, he would be your downfall, and you knew it not.”
“I thought the queen stabbed the dragon.”
Indeed, I did,” Esther answered, “yet it is Br. Christopher who dealt the final blow. For this, I will be forever grateful.”
Ignatius’s face turned towards the ground as all life seemed to drain out of him.
Br. Christopher’s eyes fluttered open, and he managed to whisper, “Be blessed, my children. You have done well.”
All eyes in the room flew to him. Everyone pressed in around to be closer in his last moments. Bill reached out just to grab the hem of his robe.
“May I have your blessing to do something bold,” Roderick blurted out.
The old man whispered, “I know what it is that you wish, and you may.”
Turning to Esther, Roderick said, “Your highness, years ago, I had it in my mind to marry you, and your father, the good king Athanasius, was not opposed. But at the dragon’s coming, you told me that you could never marry while the dragon yet lived. Now, it is dead, and I would ask you again if you will marry me.”
Esther stared back at him in utter shock. “But–but–there’s so much still to be done and to solve. And a man lies dying before us. Would you ask me to set all this aside to marry and become a wife?”
“Your ladyship,” Br. Christopher said with effort. “There will always be more to do and another battle to fight. But face those tasks and fight those battles together. If you wish to marry this man, wait no longer.”
“I do wish to marry you, Roderick,” Esther said with a happy sob. “I do! Let us be married as soon as we can.”
Roderick shouted with joy and wrapped her in a hug. Then, he knelt towards the dying monk and begged, “May we have your blessing on our engagement, Br. Christopher?”
“Nothing would give me more pleasure,” he answered. With his final act, Br. Christopher raised his hand over the two in blessing. Then, he lifted his eyes to heaven and said, “Nunc dimittis servum tuum, Domine.”1 His eyes closed in restful slumber, and he breathed his last.
Immediately, a gust of wind blew into the room, and Bill thought that he could smell the distinct scent of roses.
Now you dismiss your servant, Lord.