Farmer Giles of Ham

`Good people, and gallant warrior,' he panted, as Farmer Giles rode up, while the villagers gathered round (at a reasonable distance) with hayforks, poles, and pokers in their hands. `Good people, don't kill me! I am very rich. I will pay for all the damage I have done. I will pay for the funerals of all the people I have killed, especially the parson of Oakley; he shall have a noble cenotaph – though he was rather lean. I will give you each a really good present, if you will only let me go home and fetch it.'

`How much?' said the farmer.

`Well,' said the dragon, calculating quickly. He noticed that the crowd was rather large. `Thirteen and eightpence each?'

'Nonsense!' said Giles.

'Rubbish!' said the people.

`Rot!' said the dog.

`Two golden guineas each, and children half price,' said the dragon.

`What about dogs?' said Garm. `Go on!' said the farmer `We're listening.'

`Ten pounds and a purse of silver for every soul, and gold collars for the dogs?' said Chrysophylax anxiously.

`Kill him!' shouted the people, getting impatient.

`A bag of gold for everybody, and diamonds for the ladies?' said Chrysophylax hurriedly.

`Now you talking, but not good enough,' said Farmer Giles.

`You've left dogs out again,' said Garm.

`What size of bags ?' said the men.

`How many diamonds?' said their wives.

`Dear me! dear me!' said the dragon. `I shall be ruined.'

`You deserve it,' said Giles.

`You can choose between being ruined and being killed where you lie.' He brandished Tailbiter, and the dragon cowered. `Make up your mind!' the people cried, getting bolder and drawing nearer.

Chrysophylax blinked; but deep down inside him he laughed: a silent quiver which they did not observe. Their bargaining had begun to amuse him. Evidently they expected to get something out of it. They knew very little of the ways of the wide and wicked world; indeed, there was no one now living in all the realm who had had any actual experience in dealing with dragons and their tricks. Chrysophylax was getting his breath back, and his wits as well. He licked his lips.

`Name your own price!' he said.

Then they all began to talk at once. Chrysophylax listened with interest. Only one voice disturbed him: that of the blacksmith.

`No good'll come of it, mark my words,' said he: `A worm won't return, say what you like. But no good will come of it, either way.'

`You can stand out of the bargain; if that's your mind,' they said to him, and went on haggling, taking little further notice of the dragon.

Chrysophylax raised his head; but if he thought of springing on them, or of slipping off during the argument he was disappointed. Farmer Giles was standing by, chewing a straw and considering; but Tailbiter was in his hand, and his eye was on the dragon.

`You lie where you be!' said he, `or you'll get what you deserve, gold or no gold.'

The dragon lay flat. At last the parson was made spokesman and he stepped up beside Giles. `Vile Worm!' he said. `You must bring back to this spot all your ill-gotten wealth; and after recompensing those whom you have injured we will share it fairly among ourselves. Then, if you make a solemn vow never to disturb our land again, nor to stir up any other monster to trouble us, we will let you depart with both your head and your tail to your own home. And now you shall take such strong oaths to return (with your ransom) as even the conscience of a worm must hold binding.' .

Chrysophylax accepted, after a plausible show of hesitation. He even shed hot tears, lamenting his ruin, till there were steaming puddles in the road; but no one was moved by them. He swore many oaths, solemn and astonishing, that he would return with all his wealth on the feast of St Hilarius and St Felix. That gave him eight days, and far too short a time for the journey, as even those ignorant of geography might well have reflected. Nonetheless, they let him go, and escorted him as far as the bridge.

`To our next meeting!' he said, as he passed over the river. `I am sure we shall all look forward to it.'

`We shall indeed,' they said. They were, of course, very foolish. For though the oaths he had taken should have burdened his conscience with sorrow and a great fear of disaster, he had, alas! no conscience at all. And if this regrettable lack in one of imperial lineage was beyond the comprehension of the simple, at the least the parson with his booklearning might have guessed it. Maybe he did. He was a grammarian, and could doubtless see further into the future than others.

The blacksmith shook his head as he went back to his smithy. `Ominous names,' he said. `Hilarius and Felix! I don't like the sound of them.'

The King, of course, quickly heard the news. It ran through the realm like fire and lost nothing in the telling. The King was deeply moved, for various reasons, not the least being financial; and he made up his mind to ride at once in person to Ham, where such strange things seemed to happen.