Chapter 5

Dragon came and went as it felt like it. When it came, there was a certain tension in the community. It never attacked anyone, but dragons have a reputation. It helped (me) that the dragon would appear sometimes when visitors were checking out art for their newly refurbished castles. “Say what you like about Queeny, but she’s brought peace to the area.” I heard one particularly well-heeled visitor say. I wanted to respond by asking how long he thought he’d last if he did, indeed, say what he liked about ‘Queeny’. I was pretty sure simply calling her Queeny was close to a death sentence for someone who was showing distinctly megalomaniacal tendencies. She had had a village in Sitra province removed because it was called Esta-ton. In their local tongue that meant Eastertown. In another village the stone church was demolished because the minister refused to rename it in honour of St Esta – patron saint of whores and vagabonds. The minister was locked inside the church during the demolition.

But yes, seeing me walking down the mainstreet with a dragon at my side was likely to give me a reputation – don’t mess with Sampan. Still, it was probably not too good for trade. If someone is studying a sculpture, they don’t want to feel hot breath behind them and find a dragon has just pissed on the fine plinth.

I walked out with the dragon. No, I never gave it a name. Dragons aren’t pets.

We walked for a few days, it seems that dragons are quite happy to walk. Flying is used for hunting and killing mostly. Up into the hills, and there we met Mutt and Jeff. Oh, I don’t know what they were really called; they didn’t introduce themselves to me.

I guess they hadn’t seen the dragon. Actually, that’s probably good. If they had seen it they might have waited until I was away from it. They charged in waving swords. I drew my weapons and took up a stance, to see one of them simply flattened by the charging dragon, it began to run, took off and at barely seven feet up in the air, it hit the man and dropped at the same time. His head was ripped off. The other was surprised but, give him credit, he carried on running. I threw my tooth tipped sword. It was very carefully made, it was balanced to be throwable or wieldable. That surprised him and the razor sharp sword went straight through his leather bodkin. Dragon happily ate the soft parts of the two of them. I couldn’t blame it.

Later, I found myself challenged by a large man with a large sword and a large shield. He was an outlaw who ran away after he raped a nun. I know this because he happily boasted of how she had cried and begged him not to take away her purity. He laughed loudly and said “So I fucked her arse instead. I’m sure she was grateful. I asked her if she’d like to show her gratitude by sucking my cock.”

I was sitting at a bench away from this idiot, drinking my beer. The dragon was out of sight, because dragons generally are not welcome at hostelries where they might eat the horses. “Fucking stupid dickhead!” I said out loud. Perhaps I’d had too many beers.

“You what?!”

I felt brave, knowing that a dragon had my back, so I repeated my comment, adding “You think you are so special because you were able to overpower a girl who had given her life to God? You think you deserve respect because can rape a nun? What kind of lowlife fucker are you?” Actually, by the time I got to the end of the speech, the guy was running at me. I thought ‘now you’ll get a shock’. I stood calmly and waited, nearly too late! The dragon just watched from where it was lying. The man saw it, but it didn’t stop him; he kept coming, and the dragon just lay there.

At the last minute, I drew my sword – it was one I’d liberated from one of the previous would-be muggers. I was really lucky. The apparent calmness impressed a lot of people, and I got more reputation, as the sword came up and the man ran onto the sword. I had to tension my legs to stop myself from being pushed back. Instead all the weight of the man, and he was big, pushed himself onto the sword. He looked surprised. I pulled out my dragon knife and his head partially fell off. That was it. People thought I was brilliant. The differences between brilliance and luck and failure are often very small.

As we walked away, I said “Well, thanks for that.” But perhaps some of the logical thinking was rubbing off on me. If someone attacked me, dragon would help; if I picked a fight, that was fine, it was up to me to sort it out. I wasn’t the sort to pick too many fights, but I took even more care after that.

I left the dragon back at the same cave I’d found it near before. That might have been a mistake. It had probably been captured there in the first place, but the dragon knew the area and seemed happy to stay. Let me say, I don’t believe in magic. I had logically worked out how the queen might have got the animals to hunt for individuals. Teach them to search for smells and reward them for finding it. They become trained to think that hunt for a smell means getting a reward. Then give them something of me or The Three to smell and hunt for. It all made sense. So why did I feel I had a connection with the dragon? It wasn’t logical, but I just accepted it.

When I got back to the village, there was an air, a feeling. “We had a visit.” said Emelda. “We ran, we thought they were after us.”

“I’m sorry Sampan, they took Yew and her sisters. I’m sorry.” Ida said.

“Who did? When?”

“Guards, I counted fifteen, there may have been more. Sorry, we ran. The village did nothing. They all ran too. They came yesterday. They grabbed the three sisters and turned and left. There were young women everywhere, but they ignored the possibilities. They were very focussed. I guess that’s down to fear of my aunt.”

I wanted to be angry at the beardy-weirdies who did nothing to keep The Three safe, but I couldn’t really be. They weren’t fighters. But then neither was I, but I was already buckling on weaponry. How could I possible challenge a squad of fifteen trained fighters? What a fuckup! After the dragon, we thought they were safe. They didn’t, they had suggested that trouble would come for them, me, and the Princess. “Queen Esta doesn’t forgive. Be prepared.” But we weren’t.

I set off fast, thinking rapidly. Perhaps I could cut them down one at a time? I could wait for them to go for a shit or a piss and thwack! Yes, maybe that would work. I was travelling fast. It is odd that one man can travel faster than fifteen. Fifteen and three prisoners. There is more debate, more discussion, more organisation. So, in the evening, when I rounded a bend and found myself facing Celandine crouching and having a piss, with a guard watching, gloating, weighing up if he could get away with a fuck (I know the type), I was surprised. But not quite as surprised as him. Celandine told me, later, that she expected me the next day, that was the most likely; but she wasn’t too surprised that I had turned up. She knew it would be foolish of me to challenge so many; but knew, she said “That I was a typical man who acted without reason.” She rolled out of the way and I had my sword out, up and swung before the guard could even shout. One down, fourteen to go.

Fourteen to go, now! Another couple of guards came up, they were probably assuming that guard number one was raping Celandine and that either they’d get seconds, or they would stop him – it depended what they thought the Queen wanted really. I didn’t get to them before they called out. Fuck, so my plan was out of the window. I would soon be overwhelmed with a load of well armed men.

I heard the ‘thump!’ The guards facing me didn’t. One had a knife sticking out of his leg and was down on one knee. I had thrown it to even the immediate odds. The guards did hear the screaming behind. It made them hesitate. Which was more scary? The unknown noise behind or the queen? They chose the queen, or the one still standing did. He advanced. I still thought l was outnumbered, even one to one. I am not a warrior, did I mention that? But he reckoned without Celandine. She walked to the one on his knee and yanked out the knife and slashed his throat. Suddenly he was outnumbered by two inexperienced fighters. He reckoned the time to be frightened of the queen was now overbalanced by the new facts. He dropped his sword and ran. At least one would get back and report another failure.

I ran to the glade that the guards had made their camp in. It was mayhem. Blood and body parts were everywhere. Four guards were still standing, standing at the four points of the compass round the dragon. I went in and dispatched one before he knew I was there. I’m not a fan of the brave warrior shouting ‘Ho!’ to arrange a fair fight. The dragon swung his tail and one more was cut in half. It seems the tail was sharp at one angle and a flat spoon to sweep people away at another angle; dragons are real killing machines. The other two ran for their lives.

The dragon moved around, ripping open the bodies, live or dead, and eating their livers. Seems the liver is really tasty. I didn’t try and stop it; it had earned that right. So all the dying did their dying faster.

The story that got back to Queen Esta was that they were attacked by a great warrior (and his demon). I was promoted to chief protagonist, I don’t know why, but it made me into the main opponent to the queen. That had not been my intention. I would have been happy to be left alone, so would The Three, so would Princess Ida. It was the queen who made us into her enemies.

We left the guards where they lay. There were too many to bury. Dragon came over to me and then The Three, its snout was red with blood. It started to cough. Suddenly a massive burp erupted across the camp and reached the fire in the middle, turning into a huge blast of flame. One of the guards saw the flame from a hiding place and reported back that I had an army of dragons to support me.

The dragon didn’t hang around. We moved off a mile or so and camped. In the morning, it had gone. Had it flown away or walked? I had no idea. Something else I am not is a tracker. I swore to myself that if I ever composed some good poetry, I would write the Lay of the Good Dragon.

It took three days to make our way back. Ida saw me and ran to me and wrapped her arms around me, she said nothing. I looked at Emelda, who shrugged. I still lusted after Emelda. Couldn’t help it, she was attainable, she was attractive, I’d dreamt of her body tied up on the bed all those weeks, months, ago. I’d dreamt of her undressing, just that the ending in my dream was different to the reality. It was nice that Ida was pleased I was alive, but she was way above my station, and Emelda was below it.

“Very nice, now there is talking to be done. We will cook the last of the bear.” Yew interrupted. The Three seemed to live on soup, I did wonder how it didn’t just run out of them. I had no idea they had kept some of the bear, but our return was a special occasion.

“Sampan, I’m sorry we didn’t do anything. We are not fighters like you.” Hendrik was saying. I didn’t know I was a fighter, but apparently I was now. I hoped the dragon had returned home and was safe. I shook his hand.

“You have your uses.” Anemone said to him. “Come for tea tonight.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe that Queen Esta, my own flesh and blood, would try and remove me.”

“And I’m sorry you are so blind! It is the logical thing to do. She will not relinquish her hold on power, why would she? But that hold is weakening, she can sense it. She knows that people will try and raise an alternative, and you are the obvious choice. You don’t have that choice! People will raise banners and rebellions proclaiming you as the rightful queen whether you want it or not. You ARE the enemy, whatever you say. Even if you became a nun in a silent order in Outer Backs, people would proclaim you the queen. It’s what people do! If they want to rebel, they will need a focus point. It isn’t practical to just say ‘we don’t like what you are doing’, that would fizzle out or even if it won, it would collapse because people would have fought for different reasons. If they have a figurehead, everybody knows that that is the person who will take over. No-one can complain later that they didn’t know what they were rebelling for. Even those that want a republic or a theocracy; if they support a rebellion with you as the figurehead then they know what they’ll get.

Relax, there won’t be many fighting for a theocracy. The established religion likes Queen Esta, she is happy to burn witches and drive out multi-god believers to keep them on her side.” Anemone had thought this all through.

Then Yew joined in “But you, Princess Ida, are a woman. You need a man to lead your fight. That’s the way it is. People will follow a queen in peace, but less so in war. Who are the possible suitors?”

Ida retorted: “I don’t know! Baron Caculla has a son -”

“Sorry to interrupt, but Baron Caculla is as trustworthy as a snake – tying yourself to him by his son would be very risky. Earl Milosh, his son is nearly marriageable age.”

“Nearly! Precisely! I am nineteen, I’m not marrying an eleven year old boy. Why am I talking like this? First I’m discussing rebellion, now I’m looking at suitors.”

“As to the first, you are discussing it because you see the logic of your position. You have no choice. No, you do have a choice, fight or wait for Queen Esta to kill you. She will.

As to the second. You will need a war lord.” Yew said

“And as soon as I married, the warlord would treat me as a trophy wife, his right to the throne, nothing more. My power would be minimal.”

Hendrik and I sat and listened to the women talking for hours. Ida was understandably hesitant to rebel against her own aunt, she was nervous, it was a big risk. She didn’t want to marry someone who would take over. I had a sense that The Three had plans they were not sharing yet. Hendrik leant in to me and said “I think they can see how this whole thing is meant to work. This is the first piece.” I agreed. I was realising that, just like you can be a woman and yet still be quite intelligent, you could be a bearded lazy artist and yet understand the world around you. I was starting to tolerate more and more. We had had the last of the bear in a stew. Hendrik was a vegetarian (of course he was. ‘don’t harm the planet, man’) and carefully picked out the bear meat, he ate the rest, though, even though it was tainted.

Finally, she was persuaded that the only way to survive, and to get the country back on track, was to stand up. I noticed how people were looking at me. What had I missed?

“Yes, okay.” she said.

“What? What?” was my offering.

She came over to me “Will you lead my army?” she said taking my hand. “Since the army is you, three women and a bunch of artists, and a possible dragon; that isn’t a big thing to ask.”

“What? I ... Me? I’m not some noble, some high and mighty man to command my serfs to drop their hoes and pick up sickles. I’m...”

“You,” said Celandine “are Sampan Bear-Killer, Sampan Dragon Friend, Sampan the mighty warrior who bested fifteen guards. And yes, you are rather unknown.

Hendrik, this is where you come in. You and your artist friends are worth a thousand soldiers. Put aside your careful, anatomically correct and extremely detailed, though often mammarily enhanced pictures of young ladies; you can come back to them, there will always be a ready market for them. Now we want lots of pictures of the brave exploits of Sampan the Brave, Sampan the Kind. The man who fought impossible odds to save his friends – everybody can stand up against cruelty. The man who was kind to a dragon that could have destroyed him, and that kindness was repaid. The man who fought a bear with only a small spear and, even in victory was sorry for the death he caused. The man -” I was still working out what she had said; oh yes, I see, mammaries enhanced; big boobs.

“I get the idea.” said Hendrik. “Will people be swayed by pictures? I mean, no offence, but we weren’t there, we will be making it all up.”

“Oh yes, and Sampan the Modest will tell all how the pictures are huge exaggerations, and they will love him for that too. The thing is, he is modest, so it won’t be a pretence.

And yes, Sampan, you are no noble. So there is no problem that one lord will get more influence over another. It means we can persuade more lords to join as equals. It means we have to work harder to start with.” Celandine went round and poured a glass of mead for everyone. I’ve never liked mead, but I sensed that this was a destiny-changing toast.

“To Peace.” was all Yew pronounced, and we drank.

“To Justice.” said Anemone, and we drank.

“To Regime Change with as little death as possible, and a better life for all.” was Celandine’s more wordy toast. We drank and looked at each other. No-one had said what I was meant to do. I didn’t know; I’d never raised an army before.

“Sampan, we’ll discuss the details with you tomorrow. But first, more mead!” I didn’t realise that even getting me drunk was part of the plan. Sampan the normal guy who likes a drink.

Sampan the normal guy who likes a fuck. I woke up in bed curled round a naked woman. “They got me into bed with Ida? Oh shit! Is it okay to fuck a princess? I’m a commoner. I -” She moved and her naked buttocks rubbed my loins gently. She was enticing me to another go. I’m a normal guy who likes a fuck. My left hand grasped her tit, my right was stroking her under the covers.

“Oh? Awake? Good.” She moved my hand, shifted her legs so I could enter from behind. “This time, take your time, you animal. Give me a chance to catch up. Urrgh! Take your time! I’m a bit sore.” I could tell, from her little movements, she was stroking herself. That voice? That wasn’t Ida! That was ... who the fuck was it? I was happily entering some slim, young thing and I couldn’t remember going to bed with her. Still, she was happy to start me again, and I was happy to get it whilst my prick was still attached to my body – something that I was pretty sure could change later.

It took us more than thirty minutes; thirty minutes of me fucking someone I didn’t quite know who. Thirty minutes of being deep inside her and feeling her fingers rubbing outside what I was gently pummelling inside. It actually helped that I couldn’t place the voice, it kept distracting me so I didn’t come. I heard her gasp and still I didn’t come, I kept entering and retreating and wondering whose tits I was squeezing, whose cunt I was loving, whose arse I was stroking. Five more minutes, and she gave a little gasp again! I couldn’t wait any longer and fired inside her with a delighted sigh. Finally I turned her over to find myself kissing Emelda. I guess the mead had the inevitable effect of letting lust (in both of us) take over from sense (or love). We kissed for half an hour without speaking, with the result that she felt my cock pushing against her sore, newly opened vagina. “Again? My Lord! You are unstoppable. Get it over with, then.” I should have pulled away, she was sore, I knew that. But I didn’t. I tried to be slow, and I was tired and mostly already milked. It took me an hour! I was exhausted; so, I’m pleased to say, was Emelda.

A couple of the women artists started a different line of pictures and scultures: Sampan the Lover. Emelda was happy to confirm that her one night of passion with me was really pleasurable. This probably put some men off, but the women it brought to our side easily balanced that – a man who took time and trouble with his woman was a man to love and respect.

“Emelda, I...”

“Relax. I’ll never be your mistress, wife, partner; but maybe the occasional fuck-buddy? Who knows. Last night, you very romantically said that you wanted to fuck my cunt until it begged for mercy. Well, you managed that, but also you did me okay too. Your destiny is in a different direction.”

“Thanks, I ... in another life I’d happily take your pretty body to my bed every night.”

“Ah, awake at last? Good. You’ll have to watch your mead intake. A couple of glasses and you were ready to fuck Yew, me, AND Celandine. Here, you’ll need to replace some of the fluids you’ve lost.

Emelda, Princess Ida says, and I quote ‘When you’ve finished copulating with Sampan the fucking Marvellous, perhaps you could join her again. No hurry, get it all out of your system, you dirty little fuck-trollop’ haha! She has a way with words, your mistress. I like the term fuck-trollop.

Sampan, you have another duty. We’ll talk about it later.”

Anemone left, we sat up and drank the spring water, ate the fresh bread and cheese. Emelda saw me looking at her exposed breasts. “No! You’ve had your lot. I’ll be walking wide legged for a week! I’ll give you a good report though. Like those two you fucked before. They said you were lovely. I doubt you even asked them their names.”

“Now that last isn’t true. I did! They were Kirsten and Tamsin.”

“Good try, KRISTEN and TASMIN won’t mind. They can claim to be the first girls that the great warrior took to his bed; even if his cock didn’t ask for their names first. Of course, if we lose, that claim will have them, and me, whoring for the whole army, for free!”

Ida actually came to find us. “You two rabbits! Emelda, I need a new banner sewn. You can supervise. If I leave it to these retarded rejects ... no, that’s not fair! Yew says I need to row back on my insults. If I leave it to these artists my banner will be all golds and rising suns and gloriousness. I want it red, with my crest in the middle in gold. And underneath...” she wasn’t sure.

I suggested: “How about a pair of hands, one with rings – yours – clasping one holding a sickle? So the royalty is showing her friendship with the common labourer.”

“Broadly, a good idea, but a royal grabbing the hand of someone holding a sickle will probably lose a finger by accident.” Yew said. Emelda was trying to cover herself and more and more people seemed to think my bed alcove was a public space. I did the decent thing.