Digory the Dragon Slayer

by Angela McAllister

  “But I like you because you’re different,” said the princess. “Lots of knights come to our castle, striding around, boasting of how strong and brave they are, talking about adventures and dangerous deeds. None of them would be gentle enough to rescue a cat, and we never become friends because they’re far too busy galloping around the moat to sit and talk to me.”

  “Oh, I’d like to talk to you best of all,” said Digory, “and I can’t gallop anywhere!” he added truthfully.

  “Good!” said Enid. And by the time the picnic was finished, Digory and the princess had become friends.

  Can It Be True?

  So, Digory stayed at King Widget’s castle all summer. He and Princess Enid spent happy hours building tree houses in the woods, playing duets, having picnics, and thinking thoughts together.

  Enid showed Digory where badgers lived and he showed her how to dam a stream and make a stick bridge.

  On Saturdays Digory did good deeds for the King, and on Sunday afternoons Enid pretended to be a damsel in distress, and Digory saved her.

  Then, one afternoon, King Widget sent for Digory from the throne room. There the Queen and the princess sat looking serious and solemn.

  Oh dear, thought Digory, no one is smiling. Have I done something wrong? He tried to guess what it might be. He’d done a few things that were not quite right the week before, and a couple of things that should have been done differently, and one difficult thing that he’d given up in the middle. But none of these was as serious as the King’s stern face.

  “Are you happy here, Digory?” began the Queen.

  “Oh yes,” replied Digory, “very happy, Your Highness.”

  “You have been with us a long time now, Sir Knight,” said the King, stroking his beard thoughtfully, “and we are pleased to see your friendship with the … um … um … you know … the spiky-tra-la-la …” Enid turned so that her father could see her label. “Ah, yes, Enid. That’s it, my darling. Pretty name, pretty name …”

  The Queen coughed to remind the King to get back to business. Digory had a heavy feeling in his heart.

  “Well now, the thing is, we never had a boy of our own,” the King continued, “and you’ve been like a son to us this summer. We’d miss you frightfully if you went off to do good deeds anywhere else …”

  Digory knew the next word would be “but.”

  “So,” said the King, “we would like you to stay with us and be our prince—you’d make a very good one.”

  Digory thought he must have misheard the King. He was so astonished that he couldn’t reply.

  The King bent close to whisper in his ear. “Actually, it was Enid’s idea,” he said. “Don’t disappoint her, Diggers. We all want you to stay.”

  Digory still couldn’t speak, but he nodded his head again and again until Enid pinched the end of his nose.

  “Your silly head will drop off, Prince Digory!” she laughed. “Let’s go and celebrate with some fireworks!”

  And that was that.

  Not Quite …

  Well, of course, that is never really that, you know, especially in stories—there is always something else …

  Chapter Three

  Have We Forgotten Something?

  Digory was thrilled to be able to stay with his best friend, Enid. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to become a prince, but he was certainly glad he’d no longer have to roam aimlessly around looking for damsels and dragons and shiverousness. I’ll write to my mother right away, he thought to himself, and tell her I am going to live happily ever after. Maybe she will come to visit.

  But just as Digory sharpened his quill pen, King Widget knocked on his door.

  “Sorry to disturb you, my boy,” said the King, scratching his head. “There’s a small thing I seem to have forgotten.”

  Digory hoped this thing wasn’t going to take as long to remember as the pair of slippers.

  “There is something I had to ask you …,” King Widget mumbled.

  “Was it about lutes?” guessed Digory hopefully.

  But the King had completely forgotten and couldn’t give him a clue. Digory suggested everything he could think of from A to Z, but still the King was stuck, so they sent for the Queen and Enid. Together everyone tried to jog the King’s memory.

  “Did you want to know his crown size, dear?” suggested the Queen.

  “Or maybe you wanted to play tic-tac-toe?” tried Enid.

  But the King shook his head firmly. It definitely wasn’t anything to do with crowns or games. The Chamberlain was summoned and the Jester, too. Even the Cook tried to guess what the King had forgotten. They guessed all afternoon until way past suppertime. It was much worse than the slippers.

  “Well, what sort of thing was it, dear?” sighed the Queen, who’d been taking a bath when the King called and could feel a sneeze coming on.

  “Something … something to do with … snails, I think …,” said the King at last. Then suddenly he laughed. “Of course, silly old goat! It wasn’t anything really important, sorry everyone.”

  They all sighed with relief.

  “It wasn’t snails, it was scales!” laughed the King. “I had just forgotten to tell Digory here about the dragon!”

  The Unimportant Thing

  “I’d just forgotten to say that, as he is going to become our prince, he will have to slay the dragon,” said King Widget. “It’s the usual knightly thing. No problem for a dragon slayer like yourself.”

  Digory went weak at the knees and had to sit down.

  “But … but … but …,” he stammered, like a dripping drip.

  “Aaatishoo!” interrupted the damp Queen. “What a lot of guessing over a dragon!” She shivered off to her bath.

  Digory took a deep breath.

  “Which … particular dragon might that be, Your Highness?” he asked feebly, as his voice came back.

  “There’s a dragon in a cave at the edge of our forest,” explained the King. “He’s called the Horrible Gnasher Toast’em Firebreath. Now that you are going to be our prince, you won’t mind killing the dragon, will you?

  Otherwise we will have to find another knight, which seems rather silly as we have you here.”

  “We think there’s only one dragon,” said Enid.

  “Quite right, my dear,” said the King, shaking Digory’s hand. “There’s probably only one … at least there aren’t usually more than two, don’t you think? Well, anyway, slay ’em all, that’s the best thing. Now, anyone for a glass of … you know … gives-you-the-giggles?”

  And that really was that.

  The Usual Knightly Thing

  Poor Digory the Dragon Slayer walked around the castle grounds wondering what to do. He had never felt more troubled in his life. He wished with all his heart he could just be plain Digory again—poking sticks in the stream in Batty-by-Noodle woods, not having to be brave or shiverous or fight jaw-gripping, flesh-ripping, bone-crunching, snout-snarling, bloodthirsty dragons.

  But then he thought of Enid. If he went back home now, he would always be lonely without her. And when he thought about Enid, something strange happened—Digory began to feel a tiny bit brave. So, he thought about her some more. He thought about her very hard, all morning, and by lunchtime he felt nearly stouthearted. By suppertime he was almost daring, and by bedtime he was fearless enough to decide that there was nothing else to do but slay the dragon.

  However, the next morning at breakfast, when Digory announced that he was going off to slay the dragon, nobody took much notice at all. Enid gave Digory her portrait picture and a handkerchief, and the King gave him a map of the kingdom. Then they went back to their porridge. They assumed Digory the Dragon Slayer had done this sort of thing so many times before that he’d be back in time for lunch.

  So Digory, who’d been hoping for a big fuss and a hero’s good-bye, didn’t even get a bacon sandwich.

  “It seems to me,” Digory said to Barley as he fetched her saddle, “that sometimes people make a terrible
fuss when you don’t want them to, and sometimes they don’t make a fuss when you wish they would.”

  But this sort of thought was far too difficult for Barley, who didn’t hear it anyway.

  So, with a heavy heart and an empty stomach, Digory set off to slay the Horrible Gnasher Toast’em Firebreath.

  Chapter Four

  A Little Detour

  Digory and Barley plodded out of the valley and up the hill, then down the hill and through the cornfields. Then up another hill, through a dark forest, and down the other side again.

  Digory grew cold and hungry. The clouds swelled dark and gray. They seemed to soak up all his bravery like a sponge. Digory thought of the King and Queen and Enid playing marbles in front of the fire.

  Then he thought of his mother in the smithy, laughing as the sparks flew off her anvil, while Arthur, Tom, and Ethelburg roasted chestnuts in the furnace.

  Poor Digory felt forgotten and shiverous from the top of his cold helmet down to his chilly tin boots.

  Eventually he came to a hazel wood where nuts and blackberries grew. He stopped to eat and gave Barley a mint. Then he remembered the King’s map in his pocket.

  Digory unrolled the map and studied the kingdom of King Widget. It looked like it had been drawn in a hurry, with the castle sketched in the middle and Gnasher’s cave marked by a red cross. Ten miles to the south of the dragon’s cave, Digory noticed a blue squiggle. Looking closer, he discovered it was a dolphin’s head rising out of a curly wave. It was the sea.

  Now, Digory had never seen the sea. He’d heard songs and stories about it. He had seen clams and crabs at the market. But he’d always wondered what the sea was really like.

  A small, tempting thought started to murmur in Digory’s head. You never said exactly when you were going to slay the dragon, the thought whispered. No one would notice if you took a long route and went to the sea on your way, it went on enticingly. And then you never know, the dragon might even have gone away by the time you come back …

  Suddenly, a commotion of crows croaked loudly overhead. They seemed to screech, “Jaw-gripping, flesh-ripping, bone-crunching, snout-snarling, bloodthirsty dragon!”

  That decided it.

  “We’re going to the sea,” Digory told Barley. “We might slay the dragon when we get back!”

  To The Sea

  Digory studied the King’s map and calculated that they should reach the sea by suppertime. So they rode through the wood and over the hill. Through the valley and across the humpback bridge. Then along the river and into another wood.

  As they plodded on their way, Digory, now in much better spirits, composed a song that went like this:

  Down to the briny sea we go,

  Where dolphins swim and blue whales blow,

  And shipwrecks creak on the rocks below.

  Ho heigh, fishy tails, heigh ho!

  But what about Enid, you ask? Well, this is the story of Digory, and so it is the story of what Digory did. Remember, he wasn’t a great hero at the beginning, just an ordinary sort of everyday, stream-poking fellow like you or me. Sometimes we do a good thing, sometimes a bad thing, and sometimes people mistake us for heroes and expect us to fight dragons.

  Anyway, Digory decided he would rather paddle in the sea than slay the Horrible Gnasher Toast’em Firebreath, and I wonder, what would you have done?

  Meanwhile, Barley didn’t know or care where she was going, but she knew she needed a scratch. So, spotting a useful shrub with plenty of thorns, she stopped. Digory, puzzling over the map as he rode, fell off headfirst into the bush.

  “I don’t understand,” he said to Barley, rubbing his dented helmet. “We should have reached the sea by now.”

  “Aha! Gadzooks!” cried a voice in alarm. “A talking bush! Be silent at once. Don’t put a spell on me, enchanted spirit.”

  Digory peered through the shrub and saw a young man about his own age wearing a tall, crumpled hat and a ragged black cloak.

  “Help!” said Digory. “I’m not a spirit.

  I’m stuck.”

  “How do I know that you’re not a magic spirit, hiding in a bush?” asked the ragged man suspiciously.

  Digory thought about this. In fact, he wasn’t quite sure how he got in the bush to start with.

  “Well, if I were a magic spirit, I could get myself out,” he replied. “So give me a hand.” And he stuck his gloved hand through the shrub.

  The ragged man pulled Digory out.

  “I’m a wizard myself, actually,” he announced, straightening his hat. “Burdock at your service.”

  Digory had never met a wizard before, but something about Burdock didn’t seem quite right.

  “I thought wizards were supposed to be all-powerful, not scared of talking bushes,” he said.

  “I wasn’t scared,” Burdock said with a scowl. “Anyway, I’ll prove to you that I’m a wizard. What will you give me if I tell your fortune?”

  Now, although Digory didn’t quite believe that Burdock was a wizard, he was very interested to hear his fortune. There were many things he would like to know. Would he ever find the sea? Would the dragon be gone from the kingdom of King Widget one day? Would he ever see Enid again?

  “I don’t have much,” said Digory, “but if you can tell my fortune I’ll give you anything I have.”

  Barley snorted loudly.

  “Except my horse, that is,” Digory added just in time, wondering whether Barley might be able to read his lips after all.

  Burdock swung his tattered cloak about him like great raven’s wings and shut his eyes. Then slowly he stretched out his arm and pointed a finger at Digory.

  Digory suddenly changed his mind, but it was too late.

  “I shall begin,” Burdock said in a deep slow voice. And he began:

  “Through the countryside you roam,

  Many miles away from home.

  Twice were struck by noble sword,

  Yet no wound have you endured.

  Now you hunt for dragon’s lair,

  And what fate awaits you there.”

  Digory listened in amazement. How did Burdock know King Paunch had struck Digory on both shoulders without a wound? How did he know he was far from home? How did he know about Gnasher? Only a wizard could see into the past like this, certainly.

  “But what about the future?” Digory asked.

  Wizard Burdock shut his eyes and pulled his cloak above his head. Slowly he spoke again:

  “In your name my eyes do see,

  There the magic letter G.

  So fear not what lies ahead,

  Banish all your darkest dread.

  I hear music, I hear laughter,

  You’ll live happily ever after.”

  “Is that it?” said Digory.

  “Yup,” said Burdock. “That’s usually enough for most people.”

  “No mention of the sea then?” Digory inquired.

  “Nope,” said Burdock.

  Digory looked very disappointed, so Burdock shut his eyes again and stretched out his pointing finger.

  “Ah, yes,” he continued in his fortune-telling voice. “There is something sloshy in your future—not the sea exactly, maybe a pond or a puddle … it’s very slimy, and it’s very dark …” He paused and frowned. “I’m afraid I can’t see anymore. Everything’s grown dim.”

  “A slimy, dark puddle!” Digory cried in dismay. “That’s not very exciting. Who ever heard of a knight having an adventure in a slimy, dark puddle?”

  “Well, you wanted to know,” said Burdock, sounding rather hurt. “Now, what will you give me in return for my fortune telling?” He began to rifle through Barley’s saddlebags.

  But Digory was busy pondering over the Wizard’s words.

  “We were on our way to the sea, you see,” he puzzled aloud. “If the map is right, we should be sitting in a sand dune at this very moment.”

  Burdock stopped his rummaging to take a look.

  “There’s nothing wrong with the map
,” he said, turning it upside down. “But I don’t think you know your north and south. The sea is ten miles away. We are here.” He pointed to a spot just a flea’s footstep away from Gnasher’s cave!

  Surprise, Surprise!

  Digory couldn’t believe his eyes. Had they really been traveling in circles since breakfast? How did they manage to find the only place on the map Digory didn’t want to visit?

  “Your dragon’s cave is just behind that bush,” said Burdock helpfully. “I’d like to hang around and watch. I’ve never seen anyone battle with a jaw-gripping, flesh-ripping, bone-crunching, snout-snarling, bloodthirsty dragon before. But I’ve got to feed my bats at sunset, so I must get home.”

  Digory thought this was probably turning out to be the most awful day of his life.

  “By the way,” said the Wizard, “you agreed I could have anything I wanted if I told your fortune, so I’ll just take this.” And he strapped Digory’s lute across his back.

  That was the last straw. Now it definitely was the most awful day of Digory’s life, and there was still a dragon to slay before bedtime.

  “Cheer up,” said Burdock when he saw Digory’s long face. “Remember, I see dancing, I see laughter. You’ll live happily ever after. Take this magic sword. I don’t need it much. You might find it useful.” And, leaving his battered old sword behind, Burdock the Wizard hurried off into the woods.

  Digory felt lonelier than ever when Burdock had gone. He picked up the sword. It didn’t look magical. It didn’t twitch in his hand or shoot sparks from the hilt. Still, it seemed as if fate had decided Digory was going to have to face the Horrible Gnasher Toast’em Firebreath, and he would need all the help he could get, magic or not, so he tucked the sword into his belt.

  After some thought, Digory decided the best time, in fact the only time, to visit a dragon must be while it was asleep. So he waited until dusk, and then when night fell and the moon came out shining its eerie beams into the mouth of the dragon’s cave, he waited some more …