And finally, Gawaine — who had taken to drinking at nights in the local tavern — went out after a night of revelry to meet his fiftieth dragon. The dragon shook in his boots because Gawaine’s fame had spread afar. Gawaine walked up to the beast, raised his battle-ax, and then lowered it again. The dragon, knowing Gawaine was protected by an enchantment, asked the fellow what the trouble was. And Gawaine was forced to admit he’d forgotten the magic word.
Well now, this was a fine kettle of dragons.
The dragon, of course, was most helpful. He asked Gawaine if he could possibly help the knight in remembering the all-important magic word. Gawaine could only remember that it began with an “r” but that was all. And so the dragon prepared to eat him.
He charged forward, and Gawaine remembered the magic word Rumplesnitz, but there was no time to say it, there was time only to swing his ax, and by God, off came the dragon’s head, and it went flying some hundred yards, and that was the farthest Gawaine had knocked any dragon’s head before.
Now this was all very confusing. Gawaine had not said the magic word Rumplesnitz, and yet the dragon hadn’t harmed him and he’d sure as hell knocked that head for a whaling good distance. He went back to the knights’ school and explained to the Headmaster what had happened.
The Headmaster admitted the truth. Rumplesnitz was not a magic word, it was Gawaine all along who was killing the dragons. The word just gave him confidence, that’s all, and wasn’t Gawaine glad that he finally knew the truth?
Gawaine wasn’t glad. Gawaine wasn’t glad at all. Why all those dragons he had killed could have devoured him if he hadn’t been just a little faster than they! This was not good. This was not good at all, at all.
Gawaine did not rise at dawn the next day. At noon, he was still in bed, trembling under the bedcovers. The Headmaster and the Assistant Professor of Pleasaunce dragged him out of bed and forced him into the forest where the boy met his fifty-first dragon, having killed fifty to date.
The dragon was a small one.
Gawaine never came back to the school. They found nothing left of him except the metal part of the medals he always wore into battle. The dragon had even eaten the ribbons.
Gawaine’s secret was never revealed, and he went down in the school’s history as a hero. There still hangs a shield on the dining room wall, and fifty pairs of dragons’ ears are on that shield. The legend “Gawaine le Coeur-Hardy,” and the inscription “He killed fifty dragons,” is gilt-lettered onto the shield under the dragons’ ears. The record has never been equaled.
That was the story, and Rick read it well, even though he was reading it for the first time, and reading it aloud at that. He’d tried out for a good many college shows back at Hunter, and he was excellent at sight reading and interpretation.
He was delighted with the story because he had never read it before and it was a new experience to him as well as to the boys in the class. But he was sorry in a way that it was not a war story, because it was decidedly allegory, and allegory was probably far above the heads of these kids, and allegory should be taught only from a carefully prepared lesson plan.
He had no such plan, and he had already read the story, and he faced the unusually silent class and wondered just what the hell he should do next. Allegory with second termers — some of whom couldn’t even write their own names.
“Well,” he said, “that was a pretty good story, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” the kids said, and he could tell they meant it and had really enjoyed it.
“All about a knight who kills dragons, right?” he asked.
“Sure,” the kids agreed. That’s what it was about, wasn’t it? A knight who kills dragons, except he gets killed in the end, a sad ending.
“What else was it about?” Rick asked.
Finley, a kid near the back of the room, said, “He didn’t really kill those dragons.”
“What do you mean, Finley?” Rick asked.
“He was cheatin’,” Finley said righteously. “He had a magic word.”
“What was the magic word?” Rick asked, and the class chorused, “Rumplesnitz!”
“That’s a funny word for a magic word, isn’t it?” Rick asked.
“It wasn’t no magic word,” Bello shouted.
“Wasn’t it?” Rick asked.
“The principal tole him it wasn’t no magic word,” Bello said. “That’s how come he could kill the dragon without sayin’ it. You remember that?”
“Yes, I remember it,” Rick said slowly.
“So it wasn’t no magic word.”
“Yeah, there wasn’t no magic word at all,” Spencer said. “He was just killin’ the dragons his ownself.”
“Now, I don’t understand that,” Rick said, pleased with the response, but not for a second thinking he was going to break through. “If it wasn’t a magic word, why’d the Headmaster give it to him?”
The class was silent for a few minutes, and then Shocken said, “ ’Cause Gawaine was scared. He was a coward.”
“But couldn’t he kill dragons?” Rick asked. “He did kill fifty dragons, and you just told me Rumplesnitz wasn’t a magic word at all.”
“Sure, he killed them,” Finley said. “But he was cheatin’.”
“Was he cheating? Remember now, there was no magic word.”
“So what?” Finley sneered. “He thought there was a magic word.”
“Yes,” Rick said, beginning to get a little excited now, surprised that they had garnered so much from the story, but still not realizing he was on the verge of his breakthrough. “That’s just it. Gawaine thought it was a magic word. And did that help him kill the dragons?”
“Sure,” White said.
“But how?”
“ ’Cause he thought it was magic. He figured I go out there, ain’t nothin’ goan happen to me. Tha’s how come he kill all those dragons.”
“Did Gawaine need the magic word?” Rick asked.
“Sure,” the kids said.
“Why?”
There was another silence, and Rick thought This is the end of it. The party’s over. The response dies now. Now we get the blank faces.
“He need it,” Speranza said, raising his hand.
“Why?”
“He scared of the dragons. If he don’t have the magic word, he run away. This way, he don’t know it’s not magic. He thinks it’s magic, so he feels strong. He thinks he can kill any old dragon and the dragon can’t touch him. That’s why he needs it. Otherwise, he’s a coward.”
“How do you know that?” Rick asked the class.
“Well, once he finds out the word ain’t magic,” Daley said, “he gets et up.”
“And is that why the Headmaster gave him this magic word?” Rick asked, praying the response would continue, feeling that something was happening out there, something he’d never experienced before. The kids were alive today, and he felt their life, and he responded to them the way they were responding to him, both he and the class thrashing out an allegory they had never seen before. “Is that why?” Rick asked.
“That principal, he’s a smart cat,” Davidson said. “He knows Gawaine need something.”
“What does Gawaine need?” Rick asked. “What’s the word for it?” Please, give me the word, he thought. Don’t let me hand it to you on a platter. Please, give.
“What’s the word?” he asked again.