The Golden Dragon of the Boringue

In one part of Belgium, they had bored into the earth so often, and so

deep, to get the coal, that this region is called the Boringue. The

city of Mons is the center of the coal mining region, and here they

still celebrate the victory of a brave knight over a mighty dragon.

This dragon was quite an unusual monster, for his skin was all of

shining gold, with scales, like plate armor. He was as big as a

battering ram, and his strength was like that of a catapult, which

could hurl big stones into a city of the enemy’s camp. More wonderful

yet, this dragon of the Boringue had a flashing jewel in his forehead,

that was worth all the diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, in the whole

world. It shone like a lamp, in the darkest nights, and guided his path

for him, as he moved down from the hills to devour maidens.

This monster was a conglomeration of all things terrible. He had every

one of the powers, which any and all beasts, birds, fishes, or reptiles

possessed; whether on the earth, in the air, or under the waters. He

had a roar like a lion, the wings of an eagle, the claws of a condor,

and the power to glide like a snake or crawl like an alligator. He

could fly like a falcon, burrow like a rat, swim like a shark, crush

with his coils like an anaconda, and had a keen scent, like a hound. He

had eyes like a tiger, teeth like a wolf, and tusks sharper than a

boar’s, the nose horns of a rhinoceros, the antlers of a stag, the

tossing horns of a bull, the double moustaches of a catfish, and the

shell of a tortoise. He could breathe fire out of his nostrils and burn

up the grass. With a nail in his tail, he could scratch a furrow like a

plow. When he thrashed around, in anger, he could deliver a blow like a

battering ram. At the tips of his wings were hooks, as hard as steel.

In short, he was like an encyclopædia of everything that was strong,

vicious and dreadful. It seemed as if all the might and force of the

old creatures, that had lived and died in the ancient forests, before

the ocean rolled in, and before the ages of coal, had risen to

resurrection in him to make a monster combining all the powers of every

living creature.

The worst of the matter was that the Romans, coming into the land, soon

found that none of their daughters would be left alive, if that monster

kept roaring and rambling about. In addition to this terror, no one

could sleep at night for the noises that he made. His howling,

bellowing, hissing, barking, and rumbling were kept up till sunrise.

Yet when he was quiet, it was still more dangerous, for then he was

lurking for his prey. No parents could trust their lovely daughters

outdoors, by night or day. For any girl, who was plump or pretty, was

sure to be gulped down alive, or carried off to the dragon’s lair in

the hills. The fact that no other bill of fare, except one that had a

live girl as part of his feast, would satisfy the monster, caused

constant anxiety to parents.

For this dragon, while always hungry, was very particular in his diet.

He would never make a dinner on a man, or a boy, a horse, or a pig,

unless he had fasted a long while and was nearly starving. He thought

they tasted “too salty.” He was always on the lookout for young and

tender maidens, or those well-favored or fat, who might be out picking

flowers, or strolling along the road. These, he would seize and then

run away swiftly, to his lair. He could easily outstrip any man on

foot, even the fleetest runner. If men mounted on horseback to pursue

him, he would spread his wide wings, give a flap or two and then rise

up into the air, almost darkening the sun, and casting an awful shadow

on the earth. It always smelled like burning brimstone, where the

dragon had been. Disappearing among the hills, he would enjoy a feast

at his leisure. Soon, the cavern, in which he slept, was covered with

maidens’ bones; and, not far away, was a pit, into which he threw what

was left of the few men and boys, or pigs and ponies, he had eaten up.

While the dragon was coming down from the hills, to make his evening

meal of a pretty girl, or to swish her off to his cave, he was careful

to sniff the air on every side, lest some brave men in hiding should

rush out at him, and put his eye out with an arrow, or push a spear

down his throat, or throw fire or poison into his mouth. The dragon

could easily swallow up a man, but he feared missiles shot or slung at

him, whether arrows, sling stones or catapult balls. There were certain

parts of his body, such as his eyes, or throat, or the soft places

under his front and hind legs, and in the joints between the scales,

where a barbed arrow or a sword blow, or spear thrust might penetrate.

The Roman general promised that any man, who would capture or slay this

frightful monster, that combined a whole menagerie in himself, should

marry his daughter. In addition, he should be owner of all the gold of

the scales, which any one could, with hammer and chisel, wrench off

from this dragon. But the forehead-jewel, after adorning the bride’s

coronet, at her wedding, must be handed over to the Roman Emperor, for

a crown possession.

Now there was a brave soldier named Rufinus, who was in love with one

of the Roman general’s daughters, and had expected to marry her, when

May and the flowers should come. He had gone to the great city of Rome,

in Italy, to buy a gold ring for his sweetheart, besides jewels and

pretty woven stuff for new clothes.

But alas, in the week before he returned, the dragon had seized and

carried her off to his lair, to eat her up, on the very day she was to

be a bride.

There was mourning in the father’s home. The mother wept all day and

the old general was constantly asking, “Who will fight the dragon and

rescue my daughter?”

When Rufinus was on his way back home, he was met by a man, a native

Belgian, famous for his skill as an archer. He, too, was in grief,

because his only daughter had been grabbed by the dragon, when out

walking with the general’s daughter, and he knew not whether she were

yet alive. This man offered to go with Rufinus and help to slay the

dragon, hoping that neither of the maidens had yet entered the

monster’s maw. Every night, this poor father’s dreams were of skulls

and bones.

Without waiting to see any one, not even the general, Rufinus sharpened

his sword and spear. He prepared to go out at once, on his swiftest

horse to fight the monster. He took with him the Belgian archer, who

knew all the paths and hiding places. Then they waited, until the wind

was favorable, so that the dragon would not get their scent, and go off

in another direction. Then they got to windward of the monster, and hid

behind rocks, in a thicket, not far from the roadside.

Toward evening, as the twilight deepened into dusk, Rufinus looked up

toward the hilltops. He saw two round spots, like globes of fire, with

something also, which was glistening and sending out rays from the

centre of his forehead. These were the eyes of the dragon, with the

flashing jewel in between. Soon he saw the beams of the rising moon,

reflected from the golden scales; as the terrible creature moved slowly

down the mountain side. His monstrous nose was bigger than a buffalo’s.

He was sniffing the air, to the right and to the left, to catch sight,

either of a man in hiding, or a maid walking. His long, thick

moustaches, like whip cords, thrashed about at everything within reach.

Now, when the dragon moves along over the ground, with folded wings, he

never keeps his head quiet, or straight, for one moment; but sways it

from side to side, and up and down, as if to see everything and to

catch the scent of any creature near, whether man or beast.

So when Rufinus looked up, he saw this monstrous head, high in the air

with open jaws, working and breathing out fire, which crackled like

mimic lightning flashes. His long body, half hidden, trailed along, in

and out, among the rocks and trees. The wind, blowing toward them, bore

the odor of burning sulphur, which, at times, nearly suffocated them.

Yet they dared not cough, lest the monster should hear them. For fear

the horse might snort, or stamp, or make any noise, the Belgian took

out his flask of strong wine and blew some of the liquid into the

animal’s nostrils; so that, while his nose was tingling, the animal

could think of nothing else, so the creature was as quiet, as if made

of stone.

Both men, Rufinus on horseback, and the Belgian on foot, felt their

hearts beating fast, as the latter waited for the monster to get within

arrow range, while Rufinus poised his spear and got ready to spur his

horse forward. The Belgian trusted to speed his shaft into the

monster’s eye, and blind him, while Rufinus hoped for a thrust of his

weapon down into the red cavern, into which so many maidens had slipped

as food.

Both brave fellows thought not only of the glory that they should win,

for killing the dragon, and delivering the land from a curse, but of

the joy and gratitude which the rescued maidens would feel toward them

as their deliverers. They would fight, even if they should be eaten up.

When within a hundred yards of the two men, the monster paused to look

around, as if he suspected danger. Then he reared up on his hind legs

and tail. At this moment the temptation, to the Belgian archer, to

shoot, was great; for he was then sure of hitting the dragon in the

heart or stomach; but, he kept his arrow on the string, and waited.

They could hear the rattling of the golden scales, one upon the other,

while the roar, that issued from the monster’s throat, by which he

expected to scare away any living enemies, reminded them of thunder

echoing among the high mountains.

It was the dragon’s habit, after finding there was no danger, to halt,

then he would rest a while, so as to dispel suspicion, making every one

think he had gone; and then, he would silently pounce upon his prey.

“Shall I shoot?” whispered the Belgian excitedly, to Rufinus.

“Yes, but be cool. Take your time and aim for the left eye, the one

nearest to us,” answered the Roman.

The Belgian drew the arrow clear up to his ear, and let fly. The

dragon’s cry of pain was so horrible, as almost to freeze the blood in

the men’s veins. His howls showed that the shaft had hit its mark. Then

Rufinus, clapping spurs to his horse, dashed out into the path. The

monster, half blinded, flapped his wings, arched his back, rose up on

his hind feet and claws, and opened his terrible jaws, to dart at and

swallow up the daring Roman. To the horse and rider, there seemed to

yawn a deep, red cavern, down which, both might, in a moment, slide.

The two men trembled for a moment, but they did not flinch.

But before a claw could touch Rufinus, he had run his long,

steel-headed spear, deep down into the monster’s throat. Then he drove

his rearing horse still forward, and pushed the weapon further down and

clear into the monster’s heart. With a bellow, that seemed to shake and

rend the hills, making echoes even in the distant mountains, the

writhing mass of force and flesh fell over. The vicious brute, that,

one moment before, seemed to be a combination of all brutes and able to

face an army, was now a lifeless mass, dead as a door nail.

Rufinus, drawing his dirk, began digging out of the dragon’s forehead,

the flaming jewel. Washing it off in the brook, he reveled in its

splendor, and wished it could be for his bride. The Belgian hacked off

four or five of the golden scales, to show to the Roman general, as

specimens, and to prove his prowess, put them in his pocket.

The two men now gave their attention to rescuing their loved ones.

Neither the father, nor the lover, was, by any means, sure of finding

the objects of their quest, the daughter and the betrothed, alive; but,

after climbing up the path, a shout of recognition in the distance was

heard. It was from both the maidens, who lifted up their voices

together. For an hour or more, they were both laughing and crying. In

the cavern lair, they found four other girls, that were to make meals

for the dragon. He usually kept a supply on hand.

The wedding, of Rufinus and his promised bride, took place the

following week; and the Belgian’s daughter, her former companion in

fear and misery, was one of the bridesmaids.

All this time, the mechanics and goldsmiths, under command of an

inspector, were busy in wrenching off the golden scales, to make a

dowry for the bride of Rufinus. One of the most skilful craftsmen set

the dragon jewel in a coronet. This shone like a radiant star, on the

forehead of the lovely bride. She looked very sweet, as she walked to

church, while all the maidens in the town scattered flowers before her

path. The four girls, that had been rescued from the monster’s lair,

led the van.

And ever after that, the people of Mons have celebrated the festival of

the victory of Rufinus over the golden dragon of the Boringue. But in

their Walloon speech, the name of the dragon means a snail, and the

name of the hero is Gilles de Chin. Every year the people have their

fun, and no wars or troubles can change their customs.