"The Green Dragon of Mordiford"
(After Leonard Da Vinci's Leda And The Swan -
In
Celebration of Da Vinci's 500th Anniversary -
2019)
(From
our "Quarterly
Magazine")
By : Deborah Susan Jones : Writer
An ancient Myth &
Legend . . . . . .
A tale that tells of
an affection so deep that it survived through dark
days and light.
In the village of
Mordiford there dwelt a young child, Maud, a lonely
girl who so wanted a pet. Her dream was realised one
day in the wood where she’d gone for her daily walk.
In a soft, mossy clearing she found a baby dragon,
which had been left on his own, motherless. She picked
it up gently, took it back home to feed it, look after
it, nurture it as her pet.... (Regardless of her
mother’s strictures).
T’would be a
remarkable, unconventional, out of the ordinary,
friend. The years passed and Maud grew into womanhood.
She’d received no education, could neither read nor
write, but was adept at executing those duties which,
women of her day, must carry out.
The dragon grew
tall, grew broad, indeed, vast and his armour-like pea
green skin deepened to emerald. He learned to fly, and
learned that when angry, he could blow grey smoke and
red orange flame from his quivering, nostrils.
However....
Much to Maud’s
dismay he developed an overkill liking for any, taste
or texture of meat. He terrorised the
countryside, killing sheep, cows and goats - any farm
animal or some other animal as a substitute. These he
consumed on the spot or tore apart and left for the
vultures or of rats. He laid waste to the countryside,
ruined the farmers.
An appeal was made
to the Garstone family: “Please help us in ridding our
lands of this monster, this thieving, murderous beast.
A member of the Garstone family accepted the offer and
pronto, retired to don a heavy suit of armour. Neatly
sidestepping a piercing, well-aimed, strike of flame,
he thrust his lance deep into the dragon’s throat. The
dragon threw its head back, screamed and.... died.
Maud threw herself to the ground screaming and beating
the hard earth with her fists.“I pray that ye olde be
cursed....”
Deborah
Susan Jones
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