He saw gathered there the entire royal family and household, including thralls; the guest king, who had delayed his departure in order to witness the ritual ceremony; a number of citizens, whose abrupt discontinuance of conversation, and interested examination of Peregrine as he approached, gave him reason to believe they had been talking about him; and three archers, three slingers, and three spearmen: these last nine constituting the Army of the Realm (cavalry had been stricktly forbidden by Wilfred the Conqueror).
“Ah, Peregrine the son of Paladrine the Sovereign of Sapodilla in Lower Europe,” the King of the Alves announced, slightly pompously. And at once said, in his usual gruffly affable manner, “Come on over, Perry, and leave me hexplain to yer the nature of this hoccasion. See,” he gestured, “that there is Thuh Treasure. Likewise, the Treasury.”
“What, that single sack?” is the sentence which Perry had in mind to say, but, tactfully, did not.
King Alf continued, portentously, “Now, this is the third day hafter the full moon of the month of Hecatombaeon haccording to thuh hold Religion,” he coughed delicately into his fist, “meantersay we’re hall good Harians ere, and so naturally we’ve tried to git this fixed hup proper and right haccording to the New Faith, that is,” another cough, “the True Faith. And ave wrote the bishops. Fergit ow many times we’ve wrote the bishops. First hoff, they hanswers, ‘If any presbyter shall presume to ordain another presbyter, let him be anathema.’ Well, well, seems like sound enough doctrine and no skin hoff my, berumph! Caff caff. But what’s it got to do wif dragons? Second time what they replied, ‘Satan is the father of lies and the old dragon from the beginning; therefore let no presbyter presume to ordain another presbyter, and if he do presume, let him be anathema.’” He cast an eye up and around the sky, for all the world like an augur about to take the auspices, then dropped his glance earthwise, and went on. “Next time we put the question, what’s it as the bishops said, why they said, ‘The waters of life may flow even through the jaws of a dead dog, but if any presbyter presume to ordain another presbyter’”
The gathering murmured, “-let him be anathema.’”
King Alf then went on, briskly, to inform his younger guest that from time immemorial, on or about the hour midway between dawn and high noon on the third day after the full moon of the month of Hecatombaeon, a dragon was wont to descend upon the Land of the Alves for the purpose and with the intention of carrying off the treasure. “Dragon?” asked Perry, uneasily, “Then why is the treasure out in the open? And for that matter, why are we all out in the open?” The gathering chuckled.
“Why, bless yer, my boy,” the king said, grinning broadly, “doesnt believe them old tales about dragons a-living on the flesh of young virgin females, does yer? Which you be’n’t in any event, leastways I know you be’n’t no female, a horhorhor! No no, see, all them dragons in this zone and climate o’ the world is pie-skiverous, see? Mayhap and peradventure there be camivoreal dragons in the realms of the Boreal Pole; then agin, mayhap not. No skin hoff my Owever. Yus. Well, once a year we aves this ceremonial rightchual. The dragon, which e ‘s named Smarasderagd (meaning, Lover of Hemeraulds, in th’ original Greek), the dragon comes and tries to carry orf the treasure. One story says, originally twas a golden fleece. Nowadays, has we no longer lives in thuh world of mye-thology, the treasure is the Treasury. All the taxes as as been collected under the terms of my vasselage and doomwit to the High King, and which I am bound to transmit to im - minus seven percent to cover handling expenses - dog licenses, plowhorse fee, ox-forge usage, chimbley tax, jus primus noctae commutations in fee simple, and all the rest of it; here he comes now, see im skim, thuh hold bugger!”
The crowd cheered, craned their necks, as did Peregrine; sure enough, there was a speck in the sky which rapidly increased in size. Peregrine asked, somewhat perplexed, “And does the dragon Smarasderagd transmit the treasury to the High King, or”
King Alf roared, “What! Fancy such a notion! No no, lad. Old Smarry, e makes feint to nobble the brass, yer see, and we drives im orf, dontcher see. I as to do it hin order to maintain my fief, for, ‘Watch and ward agayn Dragons and Gryphons,’ it be written in small print on the bottom of the paytent. And Old Smarry, e as to do it hin order to maintain is rights to hall the trash fish as gits caught in the nets, weirs, seines, wheels, traps and trots hereabouts.As for gryphons, I don’t believe in them things an nor I shan’t, neither, hunless the bishops resolve as I must, hin Council Hassembled. Ere e come!”
The spearmen began a rhythmical clashing of their shields.
“Ho serpentine and squamous gurt dragon Smarasderagd,” the Alf-king began to chant, “be pleased to spare our treasure…”
With a sibilant sound and a strong smell of what Peregrine assumed was trash fish, the dragon spread his wings into a silent glide and replied, “I shan’t, I shan’t, so there and so there and so there …”
“Ho serpentine and squamous gurt dragon Smarasderagd ullo, Smarry, ow’s yer micturating membranes? - be pleased to spare …”
“I shan’t, I shan’t, I shan’t - hello, Earwig, mustn’t grumble, mustn’t grumble - so there and so there and so there … ” Clash, clash, clash! went the spearmen. Peregrine observed that their spears had dummy heads. “Then we’ll drive yer away with many wounds and assailments what’s the news, Smarry, is there any news? - assailments and torments … “
Swish, swishl, swish, swishl, Smarasderagd flapped his wings and circled low. “That’s for me to know and you to find out My hide is impervious to your weapons, insquamous issue of Deucalion” He dug his talons into the sack of treasure, and, on the instant, the spearmen hurled their spears and the slingers whirled their slings and the archers let loose their arrows. And seeing the arrows - which, being made of reeds, and unfletched - bounce harmlessly off Smarasderagd’s tough integuments and observing the sling stones to be mere pea gravel, fit for affrighting pigeons, to say nothing of the mock-spears rattling as they ricocheted, Peregrine realized that the resistance was indeed a mere ritually ceremonial one. The dragon in sooth seemed to enjoy it very much, issuing steamy hisses much like giggles as he dug his talons into the sack of treasure and lifted it a space off the ground, while his bright glazey eyes flickered around from face to face and his huge wings beat the air.
Grinning, King Alf said, “Ere, ave a care now the way yer’ve got that sack eld, Smarry, or ye’ll spill it. Don’t want us to be a-picken of the Royal Hairlooms, ter say nuffink of the tax drachmae, up from this ere muck, do yer?”
“Perish the thought, Earwig,” said Smarasderagd, shifting its grip, and flying higher. The king’s grin slipped a trifle. “Don’t play the perishing fool, then,” he said. “Settle it back down, smartly and gently.”
“I shan’t, I shan’t, I shan’t!”
“What, ave yer gotten dotty in yer old age? Set it back down at once directly, doe yer ear?”
“Screw you, screw you, screw you!” And the dragon climbed a bit higher, whilst the king and his subjects looked at each other and at the dragon with a mixture of vexation and perplexity. “I’m not putting it down, I’m taking it with me, a-shish-shish-shish,” Smarasderagd snickered steamily.
“But that’s again the rules!” wailed the king.
“It is against the rules, isn’t it?” the dragon agreed, brightly. “At least, it was. But. You know. I’ve reviewed the entire matter very carefully, and what does it all add up to? To this? you get the treasure and I get the trash fish. So - as you see, Earwig I’ve changed the rules!” He flew a bit higher. “You keep the trash fish! I’ll keep the treasure!”