.... To mark the long peace the king ordered a feast,

Invited the great and the least from his kingdom

To honour his hall and to share with their kin-folk

Meat and drink at his table, warmth at his hearth

​

***

​

All his people were joyous and all gathered together

From the mightiest ealdorman to the lowliest slave

For a share in a feast of such splendour that none who were there

Could forget the flavours, the smells and the savours.

Tapestries on the walls, fresh rushes on floors,

Roasted meats on the table,  warm loaves, pots of ale,

Cheese, honey and butter, huge logs in the fireplace.       

Music and singing, laughter and kissing -

Giggling girls who said no, sighing girls who said yes,

More ale, more singing -  

                                           And then a deafening crash

And before the high table   stood a terrible wise man.

He raised his hand, and Thor sent a thunder-bolt  

Which felled a sacred oak to smouldering embers.

​

          The king and his wife, the great lords and ladies

Sat wide eyed, unmoving,  appalled at such power

From this unknown stranger, this embodiment of god-wrath.

The wise man’s white hair tossed as though caught in a great wind

His cloak was the cloud of a storm, roiling with power

Around him was lightening, crackling and flashing.

​

The wise man releases a dragon from captivity, as punishment

for not giving the gods due respect for the peace and prosperity

the kingdom has enjoyed, The dragon burst from beneath the mere,

and she is NOT good news...

 

            Then a column of water, vast as a waterfall, burst to the sky   

and as though born from this foul black womb  the dragon

      Tobrecante,

            She Who Destroys,

                  flung herself skywards.       

                                                           

Her wing beats were war-drums,

And freed at last from the bonds that had held her

in thrall to her god-masters, screaming she rose.

​

      Where her shadow fell all froze, ice crackled and blighted

Where her breath touched was fire and destruction.

Great was the joy of this deadly avenger

As she rose ever higher to view from above

All the sleek fatness that would quench her great hunger

Born from the centuries wracked with hunger:

Hunger for flesh to eat, and gold for her roosting-place...

​

...         Her shit was like thunderbolts         

                      It soured the land so that nothing would grow

Its smell killed the birds in flight, wilted the treetops.

Her piss poisoned the waters.          

Streams filled with dead fish, cattle died at the dew ponds,       

Wells became places where folk died in agony.

Wherever death visited man, woman or animal

There feasted Tobrecante trying to sate her great hunger.

​

The king of the land, distraught by the devastation being wreaked on his beloved kingdom, meets Esme, the little heroine of this story for the first time. 

​

The day finally came  when the king gave up hope...

... And sat on a log by his door, head in hands,

Sobbing with grief for the deep dark misfortune          

                                             he had brought to his people

And wondered aloud if his death would break the spell.

​

‘You must not die, father king’ said a small voice from before him,

‘My papa said you are a father to all of us,

'And my papa has died bravely fighting your dragon,            

‘And if you die too I’m orphaned twice over.

‘If I am orphaned again I will probably die,

                                                because I am small and not very clever

‘And then my pet hare will die,           

                                               because he’s younger than I am and even less clever,

‘And you will have caused all that dreadful misfortune,            

                                                 so there, you can’t die, father king. Begging pardon.’

​

The king looked in amazement, brushed the tears from his eyes

And saw standing before him, untidy and dirty,         

A small girl-child, tightly clutching  a worried young hare.

Her long hair, so fair that it seemed almost white,

Drifted around her as though floating in water,

Finer than spider silk caught on a summer breeze,

Eyes blue as the sky, gaze grave and steady,

Voice babbling softly, a tumbling mountain stream

Jumping and splashing, endlessly moving, 

Joining each moment  with a skein of soft sound.

​

‘Who are you, little maiden?’ asked the king in astonishment,

‘And where have you come from? Why all alone?

‘Where are your kin? What is your papa’s name?’

​

The child shrieked with laughter, shouted ‘Too many questions’

Jumped up and down, which did not please the leveret,

Then stood on one leg, holding one foot behind her.

The hare sensing freedom frantically scrabbled,

But somehow his captor continued to hold him,

now dangling by his ears from one dirty hand.

This was painful, and the small creature wisely stopped struggling.

​

The curious behaviour of this very small subject

And her furry familiar entranced the king,

And for the first time since the curse was laid

That released Tobrecante to the skies of his kingdom

The king smiled. From the smile grew a bubble of laughter,

And the king laughed out loud, laughed till his sides ached

.

‘I am Esma, meaning kind defender, 

                                           and I don’t like to be laughed at.

‘This is Swift, my leveret, because he runs like the wind

‘We’ve been friends forever, since yesterday morning,

And he owes me his life price because I stole him from the game-bag.

His life price is small, because he’s only a little hare,

But he can’t pay it anyway, because hares don’t have treasure

So I suppose he’s my slave’.     The king nodded gravely ...

​

Pitting the enchanting Esme against Tobrecante the Dragon was a surprisingly emotional challenge.

​

As her creator, I couldn't shake off the thought that Tobrecante isn't evil - she is a Dragon, and therefore does dreadful Dragonny things. Plus - she's been trapped for untold centuries, and now she's free again. Of course she's going to be a massive pain.

​

Esme may be small be she's very courageous, and yes, she saves the kingdom... but at a price. 

​

I hope you have enjoyed these extracts from Stane's Song.  There's plenty more of it, as Esme, her hare, her  elderly grandfather and the King's youngest son set out to do what the greatest warriors in the land have failed to do: defeat Tobrecante.

​

Peter

​