by Terry Jones
So the merchant took the Dragon-Slayer to his house, and they hid in an apricot tree to observe the dragon.
‘Well? What d’you think of it?’ asked the merchant.
But the Dragon-Slayer said not a word.
‘Big, isn’t it?’ said the merchant.
But the Dragon-Slayer remained silent. He just sat there in the apricot tree, watching the dragon.
‘How are you going to kill it?’ inquired the merchant eagerly.
But the Dragon-Slayer didn’t reply. He climbed down out of the apricot tree, and returned to the palace. There he ordered a plate of eels and mint, and he drank a cup of wine.
When he had finished, the king looked at him anxiously and said: ‘Well? What are you going to do?’
The Dragon-Slayer wiped his mouth and said: ‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing?’ exclaimed the king. ‘Is this dragon so big you’re frightened of it?’
‘I’ve killed bigger ones,’ replied the Dragon-Slayer, rubbing his chest.
‘Is it such a fierce dragon you’re scared it’ll finish you off?’ cried the king.
‘I’ve dispatched hundreds of fiercer ones,’ yawned the Dragon-Slayer.
‘Then has it hotter breath?’ demanded the king. ‘Or sharper claws? Or bigger jaws? Or what?’
But the Dragon-Slayer merely shut his eyes and said: ‘Like me, it’s old and tired. It has come down from the mountains to die in the East. It’s merely resting on that roof-top. It’ll do no harm, and, in a week or so, it will go on its way to the place where dragons go to die.’
Then the Dragon-Slayer rolled himself up in his cloak and went to sleep by the fire.
But the king was furious.
‘This is no good!’ he whispered to the Lord High Chancellor. ‘It’s not going to make me more popular if I leave this dragon sitting on that man’s roof-top. It needs to be killed!’
‘I agree,’ replied the Lord High Chancellor. ‘There’s nothing like a little dragon-slaying to get the people onto your side.’
So the king sent for the Second Most Famous Dragon-Slayer In The Whole Of China, and said: ‘Listen! I want you to kill that dragon, and I won’t pay you unless you do!’
So the Second Most Famous Dragon-Slayer In The Whole Of China went to the merchant’s house and hid in the apricot tree to observe the dragon. Then he came back to the palace, and ordered a plate of pork and beans, drank a flask of wine, and said to the king: ‘It’s a messy business killing dragons. The fire from their nostrils burns the countryside, and their blood poisons the land so that nothing will grow for a hundred years. And when you cut them open, the smoke from their bellies covers the sky and blots out the sun.’
But the king said: ‘I want that dragon killed. Mess or no mess!’
But the Second Most Famous Dragon-Slayer In The Whole Of China replied: ‘Best to leave this one alone. It’s old and on its way to die in the East.’
Whereupon the king stamped his foot, and sent for the Third Most Famous Dragon-Slayer In The Whole Of China, and said: ‘Kill me that dragon!’
Now the Third Most Famous Dragon-Slayer In The Whole Of China also happened to be the most cunning, and he knew just why it was the king was so keen to have the dragon killed. He also knew that if he killed the dragon, he himself would become the First Dragon-Slayer In The Whole Of China instead of only the Third. So he said to the king: ‘Nothing easier, Your Majesty. I’ll kill that dragon straight away.’
Well, he went to the merchant’s house, climbed the apricot tree and looked down at the dragon. He could see it was an old one and weary of life, and he congratulated himself on his good luck. But he told the king to have it announced in the market square that the dragon was young and fierce and very dangerous, and that everyone should keep well out of the way until after the battle was over.
When they heard this, of course, the people were even more frightened, and they hurried back to their hiding places and shut their windows and bolted their doors.
Then the Dragon-Slayer shouted down from the apricot tree: ‘Wake up, Jade Dragon! For I have come to kill you!’
The Jade Dragon opened a weary eye and said: ‘Leave me alone, Dragon-Slayer. I am old and weary of life. I have come down from the Jade Dragon Snow Mountain to die in the East. Why should you kill me?’
‘Enough!’ cried the Dragon-Slayer. ‘If you do not want me to kill you, fly away and never come back.’
The Jade Dragon opened its other weary eye and looked at the Dragon-Slayer. ‘Dragon-Slayer! You know I am too weary to fly any further. I have settled here to rest. I shall do no one any harm. Let me be.’
But the Dragon-Slayer didn’t reply. He took his bow and he took two arrows, and he let one arrow fly, and it pierced the Jade Dragon in the right eye. The old creature roared in pain, and tried to raise itself up on its legs, but it was too old and weak, and it fell down again on top of the house, crushing one of the walls beneath its weight.
Then the Dragon-Slayer fired his second arrow, and it pierced the Jade Dragon in the left eye, and the old creature roared again and a sheet of fire shot out from its nostrils and set fire to the apricot tree.
But the Dragon-Slayer had leapt out of the tree and onto the back of the blinded beast, as it struggled to its feet, breathing flames through its nostrils and setting fire to the countryside all around.
It flapped its old, leathery wings, trying to fly away, but the Dragon-Slayer was hanging onto the spines on its back, and he drove his long sword deep into the dragon’s side. And the Jade Dragon howled, and its claws ripped off the roof of the merchant’s house, as it rolled over on its side and its blood gushed out onto the ground.
And everywhere the dragon’s blood touched the earth, the plants turned black and withered away.
Then the Dragon-Slayer took his long sword and cut open the old dragon’s fiery belly, and a black cloud shot up into the sky and covered the sun.
When the people looked out of their hiding places, they thought the night had fallen, the sky was so black. All around the city they could see the countryside burning, and the air stank with the smell of the dragon’s blood. But the king ordered a great banquet to be held in the palace that night, and he paid the Dragon-Slayer half the money he had in his treasury.
And when the people heard that the dragon had been killed, they cheered and clapped and praised the king because he had saved them from the dragon.
When the merchant and his wife and children returned to their house, however, they found it was just a pile of rubble, and their beautiful lawns and gardens were burnt beyond repair.
And the sun did not shine again in that land all that summer, because of the smoke from the dragon’s belly. What is worse, nothing would grow in that kingdom for a hundred years, because the land had been poisoned by the dragon’s blood.
But the odd thing is, that although the people were now poorer than they ever had been, and scarcely ever had enough to eat or saw the sun, every time the king went out they cheered him and clapped him and called him: ‘King Chong The Dragon-Slayer’, and he was, from that time on, the most popular ruler in the whole of China for as long as he reigned and long after. And the Third Most Famous Dragon-Slayer In The Whole Of China became the First, and people never tired of telling and retelling the story of his fearful fight with the Jade Dragon from the Jade Dragon Snow Mountain.
What do you think of that?
THE STAR OF THE FARMYARD
THERE WAS ONCE A DOG who could perform the most amazing tricks. It could stand on its head and bark the Dog’s Chorus whilst juggling eight balls on its hind paws and playing the violin with its front paws. That was just one of its tricks.
Another trick it could do was this: it would bite its own tail, then it would roll around the farmyard like a wheel, balancing two long poles on its paws – on top of one of which it was balancing Daisy the Cow and on the other Old Lob the Carthorse – all the while, at the same time, telling excruciatingly funny jokes that it made up on the spo
t.
One day Charlemagne, the cock, said to Stanislav, the dog: ‘Stan, you’re wasted doing your amazing tricks here in this old farmyard – you ought to go to the Big City or join the circus.’
Stan replied: ‘Maybe you’re right, Charlemagne.’
So one bright spring morning, Stanislav the Dog and Charlemagne the Cock set off down the road to seek their fortunes in the Big City.
They hadn’t gone very far before they came to a fair. There were people selling everything you could imagine. There was also a stage on which a troop of strolling players were performing.
So Charlemagne the Cock strode up to the leader of the troop and said: ‘Now, my good man, this is indeed your lucky day, for you see before you the most talented, most amazing juggler, acrobat, ventriloquist, comedian and all-round entertainer in the whole history of our – or any other – farmyard… Stanislav the Dog!’ And Stanislav, who all this time had been looking modestly down at his paws, now gave a low bow.
‘Can’t you read?’ said the leader of the troop. ‘No dogs!’ And without more ado, Charlemagne the Cock and Stanislav the Dog were thrown out.
‘Huh!’ said Charlemagne, picking himself up and shaking the road-dust out of his feathers. ‘You’re too good for a troop of strolling players anyway.’
Stanislav climbed wearily out of the ditch. He was covered in mud, and he looked at his friend very miserably.
‘I’m tired,’ he said. ‘And I want to go home to my master.’
‘Cheer up, my friend!’ replied Charlemagne the Cock. ‘We’re going to the Big City, where fine ladies and gentlemen drip with diamonds, where dukes and earls sport rubies and emeralds, and where the streets are paved with, gold. With your talents, you’ll take ‘em by storm. We’ll make our fortunes!’
So the cock and the dog set off once more down the long, dirty road that led to the Big City.
On the way they happened to pass a circus. Charlemagne the Cock strode up to the ringmaster, who was in the middle of teaching the lions to stand on their hind legs and jump through a ring.
‘Tut! tut! tut! My good man,’ said Charlemagne the Cock. ‘You needn’t bother yourself with this sort of rubbish any more! Allow me to introduce you to the most superlative acrobat and tumbler – who can not only stand on his hind paws, but can jump through fifty such rings … backwards and whilst balancing one of your lions on his nose … and do it all on the high wire … without a safety net!’
‘I only do tricks with lions,’ said the ringmaster.
‘But Stanislav the Dog has more talent in his right hind leg than your entire troop of lions!’
‘These are the best lions in the business!’ exclaimed the ringmaster. ‘And they’d eat you and your dog for supper without even blinking. In fact they need a feed right now!’ And he reached out his hand to grab Charlemagne the Cock. Stan the Dog saw what was happening, however, and nipped the ringmaster on the ankle.
‘Run, Charlemagne!’ he yelled.
And Charlemagne ran as fast as he could, while Stan the Dog leapt about – nipping people’s ankles – as the entire circus chased them down the road.
‘Help!’ squawked Charlemagne, as the circus folk got closer and closer and hands reached out to grab him by the neck.
But Stan the Dog ran under everyone’s legs and tripped them up. Then he said to Charlemagne: ‘Jump on my back! I can run four times as fast as these clowns!’
And so they escaped, with Charlemagne the Cock riding on Stan the Dog’s back.
That night they slept under a hedge. Charlemagne the Cock was extremely nervous, but Stan the Dog curled himself around his friend to protect him. Stan himself, however, was not very happy either.
‘I’m hungry,’ he murmured, ‘and I want to go home to my master.’
‘Cheer up!’ said Charlemagne. ‘Tomorrow we’ll reach the Great City, where your talents will be appreciated. Forget these country yokels. I’m telling you – fame and fortune await you and… ’
But his friend was fast asleep.
Well, the next day, they arrived in the Great City. At first they were overawed by the noise and bustle. Many a time they had to leap into the gutter to avoid a cart or a carriage, and on one occasion they both got drenched when somebody emptied a chamber-pot from a window above the street, and it went right over them.
‘Oh dear, I miss the farmyard,’ said Stan the Dog. ‘And nobody here wants to know us.’
‘Brace up!’ cried Charlemagne. ‘We’re about to make our breakthrough! We’re going straight to the top!’ And he knocked on the door of the Archbishop’s palace.
Now it so happened that the Archbishop himself was, at that very moment, in the hallway preparing to leave the palace, and so, when the servant opened the door, the Archbishop saw the cock and the dog standing there on the step.
‘Your Highness!’ said Charlemagne, bowing low to the servant. ‘Allow me to introduce to you the Most Amazing Prodigy Of All Time – Stanislav the Dog! He does tricks you or I would have thought impossible! They are, indeed, miracles of …’
‘Clear off!’ said the servant, who had been too astonished to speak for a moment. And he began to close the door.
But Charlemagne the Cock suddenly lost his temper.
‘LISTEN TO ME!’ he cried, and he flew at the servant with his spurs flying.
Well, the servant was so surprised he fell over backwards, and Charlemagne the Cock landed on his chest and screamed: ‘THIS DOG IS A GENIUS! HIS LIKE HAS NEVER BEEN SEEN OUTSIDE OUR FARMYARD! JUST GIVE HIM A CHANCE TO SHOW YOU!’
And Stan the Dog, who had nervously slunk into the hallway, started to do his trick where he bounced around on his tail, juggling precious china ornaments (which he grabbed off the sideboard as he bounced past) whilst barking a popular Farmyard Chorus that always used to go down particularly well with the pigs.
‘My china!’ screamed the Archbishop. ‘Stop him at once!’ And several of the Archbishop’s servants threw themselves at Stan the Dog. But Stan bounced out of their way brilliantly, and grabbed the Archbishop’s mitre and started to balance a rare old Ming vase on the top of it.
‘Isn’t he great?’ shouted Charlemagne the Cock.
‘Grab him!’ screamed the Archbishop, and the servants grabbed Charlemagne.
‘But look at the dog!’ squawked the cock. ‘Don’t you see how great he is? Do you know anyone else who can juggle like that?’
But just then – as luck would have it – all the butlers and chambermaids and kitchen skivvies and gardeners, who had heard all the noise, came bursting into the Archbishop’s hall. They stood there for a moment horrified, as they watched a barking dog, bouncing around on his tail, juggling the most precious pieces of the Archbishop’s prize collection of china.
‘Stop him!’ roared the Archbishop again. And without more ado everybody descended on poor Stan, and he disappeared under a mound of flailing arms and legs. As a result, of course, all the Archbishop’s best china crashed to the floor and was smashed into smithereens.
‘Now look what you’ve done!’ yelled Charlemagne.
‘Now look what we’ve done!?’ exclaimed the Archbishop. ‘Listen to me! You’re both filthy, you look as if you slept in a hedge, you stink of the chamber-pot and you dare to burst into my palace and wreck my best china! Well! You’re going to pay for it! Throw them into my darkest dungeons!’
And the Archbishop’s servants were just about to do so, when suddenly a voice spoke from above them.
‘Silence, everybody!’ said the Voice.
Everybody froze. Then the Voice continued: ‘Don’t you know who this is? Archbishop! Shame on you! This is the Voice of God!’
The Archbishop fell to his knees, and muttered a prayer, and everyone else followed suit.
‘That’s better!’ said the Voice of God. ‘Now let Stan the Dog go free. He didn’t mean no harm.’
So they let go of Stan the Dog.
‘And now,’ continued the Voice of God. ‘Let Charlemagne the Coc
k go!’
So they let go of Charlemagne the Cock.
‘Now shut your eyes and wait for me to tell you to open them again!’ said the Voice of God.
So they all shut their eyes, and Stan the Dog and Charlemagne the Cock fled out of the Archbishop’s palace as fast as their legs could carry them.
I don’t know how long the Archbishop and his servants remained kneeling there with their eyes shut, but I am certain that the Voice of God never told them to open their eyes again. For, of course, the Voice wasn’t the Voice of God at all – it was the Voice of Stan the Dog.
‘You are, as I say, a very talented dog,’ said Charlemagne as they ran down the road. ‘But I’d almost forgotten you were a ventriloquist as well!’
‘Luckily for us!’ replied Stan. ‘But look here, Charlemagne, I’ll always be talented – it’s just the way I am. Only I’d rather use those talents where they’re appreciated, instead of where they get us into trouble.’
‘Stanislav,’ said Charlemagne, ‘maybe you’re right.’
And so the two friends returned to the farmyard. And Stanislav the Dog continued to perform his astounding tricks for the entertainment of the other farm animals, and they always loved him.
And even though Charlemagne occasionally squawked a bit at night, and said that it was a waste of talent, Stan the Dog stayed where he was – happy to be the Star of the Farmyard.
THE IMPROVING MIRROR
A MAGICIAN ONCE MADE A MAGICAL MIRROR that made everything look better than it really was.
It would make an ugly man look handsome, and a plain woman beautiful.
‘I will bring happiness to a lot of people with this mirror,’ said the magician to himself. And he went to the main city, where he had his invention announced to the public. Naturally everybody was very curious to see themselves more handsome and more beautiful than they really were, and they queued up to see the magical improving mirror.