Over the years, I have travelled with Adrienne to many countries in the Levant and the Balkans. I have been struck by the numbers of churches dedicated to St George. Many of them are guardians of bones; precious and plentiful relics of the saint. St. George is the patron saint of England an many other countries and causes. This prompted me to write a piece of short fiction from the point of view of his famous adversary, the dragon. I hope you like it.
On The Origin Of Holy Relics
With just one roar, I made my toast, seared my bacon and heated my coffee. Life’s good when I can generate that much dragon fuel in a night. Talking of knights, what is going on? Every day for the last fortnight there’s been another one of the blighters. They all look the same: horse, lance, chain mail, white tabard, red cross. Every man jack of them calls himself Saint George.
I can’t remember half of them. There was one, patron saint
On Thursday, it was another George claiming to be the patron
Then there was the one with the fancy saddle. Said he was patron saint of saddle makers. Sold off his Ischial Tuberosity — that’s bum bones for the uneducated — talk about saddle sore. Mind you, I didn’t get much of a price for them. They don’t make for a dignified relic.
And the George who said he was the patron saint of syphilis? I just incinerated him. Best to be on the safe side.
My man in