In the days when dragons were still seen in the world, there lived a huge, noble dragon who spent most of his time in a small cave right at the top of Castle Hill. He was of a peaceful disposition and gave the castle, which belonged to a rich king’s son, no trouble whatever. Instead of flying about frightening people as other dragons did, he liked better to lie quiet on the hilltop and enjoy the sweet perfumes of the sun, the moon, the flowers, and the trees, in his cool, shady home.
It happened one day that Sir Cedric, the king’s son, who was strong and handsome enough to be a king himself, rode up Castle Hill, with thumbs in the armholes of his fresh, pink waistcoat, and a fine, wrought-steel sword by his side, for many a fierce fight had he fought and many an enemy did he fearlessly face. Stopping his horse in front of the dragon’s cave, he drew a pair of golden spurs from his waistcoat, joined his two hands together, and shouted out in a voice of thunder that made the rocks tremble, “Come forth, thou abominable dragon! I will do battle with thee now till death or victory reward thine insolence.”
The wise dragon heard the knight’s boastful words, and poking his head and neck out of his cave, said gently, “Brave Sir Cedric, that I beg to ask you: what have I done that you should come to harm me, or visit me merely to agitate my nerves?”
“A-a-ah!” said Sir Cedric, “is this mock bravado? Draw your scales and be ready quicker. Argus was the hundred-eyed giant whom I killed one by one. Why not you, then? His heart, as you will be pleased to know, is in my waistcoat pocket, my lady-love’s fond admiration of my courage induced me to have it preserved.”
“Nay, nay,” said the dragon. “That is not my way. However much I might dislike you, never should I think of doing anything to you that you might think a personal injury.”
“Well, then,” resumed Sir Cedric, “at any rate give me the three gold crowns you owe me.”
“I do not owe you three gold crowns,” replied the dragon with a smile. “I owe you nothing but respect. Moreover, I would not owe a brave knight like you even so much as that if I could help it.”
Sir Cedric was a little bit ashamed.
“Pray forgive me, noble dragon,” quoth he; “if you do I will breed no more quarrels with your race. But, to speak the truth, I was sent to demand the three crowns of thee as a matter of courtesy.”
“I will pay you,” said the dragon, “the three gold crowns you gave me, not simply in respect but courtesy also, unless it will make you unhappy. And, moreover, I beg to tell you that all dragons and knights should be friends. You, for example, are a courtier against your will and mine, while I am forced against my will to be an outlaw like unto thee. Also kings should be compelled, if they wish to see peace in their day and kingdom, to pray dragons and knights to come to some understanding, else will wars go on as long as their people.”
What the dragon said seemed good and thoughtful to the knight.
“Pray pardon me,” quoth he again; “why could I not instead go on my way rejoicing without coming here to disturb you?”
“Nay, nay,” replied the dragon; “that was impossible, since you do not possess my philosophy. You will, however, become such a philosopher as I am, my friend. Me!! Bosh! Me!! Must you—must they—they!! Oh, why must somebody always have something to quarrel about?”
The heart of Sir Cedric melted, and from that moment the brave knight and the wise dragon became fast friends.
Although there lived many other dragons on the earth, none were quite so pious and Christianlike as Dante, the dragon in the story.