Home pageThere's a fairy tale -- really the most basic fairy tale, you'll find lots of variants of it -- which goes like this: a dragon descends on a kingdom, and starts to lay it waste. The dragon can only be appeased by feeding it on young women. Specifically, on virgins. Finally, there's only one suitable young woman left: the King's beautiful, nubile, virgin (of course) daughter. Or else she volunteers to go first to save all the others. Anyway, just as she's been staked out for dragon bait, along comes a hero, kills the dragon, rescues the princess, and they all live happily ever after (that's code for he gets to bed her).
And you ask yourself why? What fears, what longings, what implicit assumptions are expressed by this tale? Why, for example, does the dragon care whether its victims have fucked? Why is the poor sodding victim always naked? Why is it assumed that after all the trauma she'll happily roll over and open her legs for a plonker in a tin suit?
I'm not going to answer those questions. Instead, I'm going to put a new twist in the tale. It goes like this:
Once upon a time there was a kingdom in which the men liked their women to be good: by which they meant, chiefly, docile, chaste, obedient and hard-working. So that when their daughters were unruly, or flirty, or headstrong, or lazy, they would threaten that if they did not behave the Daemon would get them. And, eventually, after some time, as will happen if you too frequently invoke a Daemon, the Daemon came.
Now the nature of the Daemon was this. It was made something like a lizard, in that its skin was scaly, and its muzzle was rounded, and its tongue was flickery forked, and its tail was as thick as its body and a good deal longer. It was made something like a man, in that it walked on its hind legs and could grasp with its hands. It was made something like a bat, in that it had webbed leathery wings to fly with. And it was made something like none of these things, in that it was as large as a horse; in that its scales were of iron; in that the heat of it was such that it glowed redly in the dark, and such water as touched exploded off in an eruption of steam.
But there was one thing about it of which there was no doubt at all. It was male. Its phallus was as long and as thick as a woman's forearm, and glowed like molten bronze even in the daylight. It came to the great city of the kingdom, and said (for it could speak as men do, in a voice like brushes on a great cymbal):
"Bring me a woman!"
Now the guards ran to the Chamberlain, and the Chamberlain ran to the King, and the King called forth his council, and many words were spoken. And the Daemon, getting impatient, burned down the gatehouse.
"We must act with expedition!" cried the chamberlain. "Let us take the most dissolute and reprobate woman in the corrective institutions, and present her to the monster!"
So they took the wickedest woman in the prisons, a woman who had actually answered her husband back after he had merely requested a coffee when she had nothing to do but change the baby's nappy and feed the two year-old and bandage the three year-old's gashed leg and find the four year-old's best shirt and weed the millet field -- anyway, they took the wickedest woman in the prisons and told her to go to the Daemon. And do you know, she wouldn't go? So the guards had to drag her, which was very frightening for them because Daemons are quite dangerous. And then she wouldn't stay, so one of the guards had to go all the way back to the prison for chains and shackles.
When they had chained her to a rock, and they had all gone back into the safety of the castle, the Daemon came and looked at her. After it had sniffed around a bit, it let out a great roar.
"This woman is worn and hagged and tired. Bring me a beautiful young woman!"
Now the guards ran to the Chamberlain, and the Chamberlain ran to the King, and the King called forth his council, and many words were spoken. And the Daemon, getting impatient, burned down the courthouse.
"We must act quickly!" cried the King. "The sergeant of the guards has more daughters than any man could want, and the eldest is very beautiful"
So the Chamberlain ran to the Captain, and the Captain ran to the Sergeant. And the Sergeant, when he heard that he would be well compensated, ran to fetch his eldest daughter: for indeed, he had more daughters than any man could want. But do you know, even though her father told her, she wouldn't go either? So she had to be dragged down and bound as well, and really it was most tiresome.
And then, well, you know, it turned out that the Daemon didn't want to eat her after all. It turned out that it wanted her for something quite different. When it was finished she was just as dead, of course, but when they had cleaned her up and dressed her in a fresh white shift and piled flowers all round her to hide the smell of roasted meat she looked quite respectable for the funeral.
After that, things settled down quickly to normal, and fathers threatened their daughters with even more relish than before, because, well, you know, really everyone had seen. Mind you, no-one could think of anything remiss that the Sergeant's daughter had ever done, but there must have been something. Mustn't there?
Things settled down to normal, that is, until the next week, when the Daemon flew in again.
"Bring me another woman", it cried. "Bring me a maiden. And this time, undress her first!"
Now the guards ran to the Chamberlain, and the Chamberlain ran to the King, and the King called forth his council, and many words were spoken. And the Daemon, getting impatient, burned down the counting house.
"We must act quickly!" cried the Minister of the Interior. "The sergeant of the guards still has more daughters than any man could want, and the next eldest is also beautiful."
So the Chamberlain ran to the Captain, and the Captain ran to the Sergeant. But the Sergeant, even when he heard that he would be well compensated, refused to fetch his next daughter. One from his household was enough: it was someone else's turn. So the Captain turned to the Corporal, and asked him to fetch his daughter, but he refused too, saying he had only one, and anyway she was much too young for such things.
Then the Captain went back to the Chamberlain, and the Chamberlain went back to the King, and the King recalled his council, and many more words were spoken. And the consequences of the Daemon's impatience were fearful to behold. Eventually they agreed to send the Minister of the Interior's youngest, which peeved him rather, because, do you know, he was actually rather fond of her! However, this time it was arranged that there should be no women on the city walls to watch, so that was all right.
And so it went on. First it was arranged that people who offered their daughters would get remission on their taxes, and that went quite well for a year or two. But after a while the supply of surplus daughters of the right sort of age began to dry up, and anyway the Daemon got more picky about how good looking they had to be.
So then it was arranged that the young women had to be picked by a lottery, which is fair enough in its way, but people started to object. And in any case there were fewer and fewer young women for the young men to marry, so they started to complain, and the Minister of the Interior was forced to tell the Chamberlain, and the Chamberlain was forced to tell the King, that civil unrest was reaching dangerous proportions. So the King called forth his Council, and many words were spoken.
Now it happened that the King had no sons, but only daughters (they were excluded from the lottery, of course -- an extension of royal prerogative). He had no brothers either, and no cousins that anyone could trace. That meant, of course, whoever married the eldest daughter would in due course inherit the Kingdom -- which, if it weren't for the Daemon, would be a tidy little business. So the outcome was that the King spoke to the Chancellor, and the Chancellor spoke to the Minister of the Exterior, and the Minister of the Exterior spoke to the Keeper of the Royal Printing Press, and the Keeper caused it to be promulgated that whoever could slay the Daemon could marry the King's eldest daughter. As an afterthought, he added that (unusually for an heiress) she was actually rather a honey, in case anyone thought it was relevant.
So, well, you know, they came from far and near. Knights. Princes. Heroes. Even a passing Saint by the name of George! But it turned out that the Daemon, as well as being impervious to any known weapon, was rather a fierce fighter. And so they all went home again, mostly in boxes. And the damsels of the Kingdom were serially and progressively ravished, and so they went home in boxes too; although in their cases it usually wasn't such a journey.
At about the time that things were getting really desperate, a Magus rode into the city. The Magus rode upon a skewbald mare, carried a staff of unicorn ivory, and wore a huge hooded cloak of cameleopard skin (with the spots on the outside). Under the hood was an iron mask engraved with arcane sigils.
When the Captain saw the Magus ride in through the ruins of the gate, he ran up and spoke, saying
"Oh great Magus, have you come to save us from the Daemon?"
"No." The voice that came from behind the mask was dry and whispering. "Why?"
At this, the Chancellor, who had also come running, explained that if it should occur that the Magus should, by fortune or happenstance, actually be the instrument of the demise or destruction of the monstrous visitation, namely and to whit the Daemon, then, subject of course to certain tests and verifications, the Magus would be granted the privilege of entering into a lawful concubinage with King's eldest daughter, and would in consequence become heir apparent to the Kingdom.
"Oh." The voice that came from behind the mask was dry and whispering. "Is she fair?"
At this the Council, who had also come running, tittered amongst themselves.
"Such naiveté!"
"As if it mattered, with the Kingdom as dowry?"
"After all, a King can always fill his harem with -- well, whoever he chooses."
But the King sent for his daughter to come forth. And when she had come, the Magus looked at her; and, having looked long, spoke to her.
"If I slay the Daemon, will you come with me", the voice from behind the mask was dry and whispering, "of your own free will?"
And the council tittered amongst themselves.
"Such naiveté!"
"As if it mattered, if her father gives her away?"
"Imagine letting a woman choose who she will marry!"
But the King's daughter nodded, and curtsied, and said she would go, of her own free will.
"And the bargain is, if I slay the Daemon", the voice from behind the mask was dry and whispering, "I win your daughter and your kingdom?"
The Chancellor tutted and hedged, and talked about primogeniture and divine right, and the passage of time, and
"Yes", the voice from behind the mask was dry and whispering, "or no?" And the King said yes, and spat on his hand, and the Magus shook it. Now the Magus called for a workshop, with a furnace, and charcoal, and iron, and leather, and a handcart, and a tailor's dummy, and a big man trap, and the hair of the Daemon's last victim. Then the Magus made sigils of great potency on the door of the workshop, and bade no-one enter. For three days strange sounds and smokes and smells issued from the workshop. And on the fourth day, it was quiet. Then the Daemon flew down with a mighty clashing of wings, crying
"Bring me another woman!"
The door of the workshop opened, and the Magus came out, pushing the handcart. On the handcart was a beautiful young woman, naked and bound, who cried and struggled in the customary way. The Magus pushed the handcart through what was left of the city gates, and up to the place where the victim was customarily left, and there he left her for the Daemon.
When the Daemon -- well, when it -- did it, there was the most tremendous clang, and it was the Daemon that screamed. It leapt in the air, and capered round the field, and screamed so loudly that several people were deafened, and the cathedral bells fell down. Then with a dreadful roar, the Daemon fell dead, and there was silence.
The Magus walked over to the still smouldering remains of the tailor's dummy, and kicked it so that it fell open. There within the dummy was revealed the man trap, with its jaws sharpened like razors. And there within the trap was revealed the Daemon's severed phallus, as big as a woman's forearm and glowing like molten bronze.
The Magus turned to the King, who had come running up.
"The deed", the voice from behind the mask was dry and whispering, "is done?"
The Chancellor, who had come running up, muttered and havered, and spoke of post mortems, and proof of identity, and death certificates, and
"Yes", the voice from behind the mask was dry and whispering, "or no?"
And the King said yes, and spat on his hand, and the Magus shook it. Then the Magus pulled off her hood, and took off her mask.
"So", the voice without the mask was warm and laughing, "your daughter, and your kingdom".
Then the Chancellor spluttered and protested, and talked about the primal importance of a male incumbent, and the doctrinal centrality of masculine authority, and the symbolic significance of the King as father to the people and
"The bargain", the voice without the mask was firm and steady, "was struck."
The Council, who had come running up, tittered amongst themselves.
"Such naiveté"
"As if a bargain counted for anything, when a King makes it?"
"Matters of State so often require modifications after the event."
"The bargain", the voice without the mask was low and ominous, "can be broken?"
The king, who had been looking at the Magus (and do you know, she was not at all bad looking), nodded apologetically, and explained that circumstances altered cases, and that seeing she was a woman she could not, of course, marry his daughter, but, fortunately, she could instead marry him; and that he would be most pleased to make her the chief of all the wives in his harem. And then, of course, in due time, her son (if she had one) would inherit the Kingdom, and everyone would be satisfied.
Then the Magus spat on the ground, and pointed with her unicorn ivory staff at the body of the Daemon, and spoke one word.
"The deed", the voice without the mask was strong and final, "can be undone."
And the Daemon clambered to its feet.
Then the Chancellor said that perhaps there had been a misunderstanding, and that of course new legal principals could always be established, and
The Magus put on her mask.
Then the Council genuflected as one man.
"Such authority!"
"One so admires the stylish application of force majeur"
"And of course, one always wishes to support the winning side"
The Magus pulled up her hood.
Then the King said "I abdicate", and took off his crown, and knelt down, and laid it at her feet.
The Magus mounted her horse.
Then the King's daughter came up to her and took her hand.
"Sister, remember our sisters here."
The Magus turned to the King's daughter.
"Do you hold to the bargain?"
The King's daughter nodded, and smiled prettily, and said that she did.
Then the Magus turned to the King.
"Do you hold to the bargain?"
And the King grovelled and abased himself and said that he did.
Then the Magus turned to the Chancellor.
"Do you hold to the bargain?"
The chancellor explained that it was not normally within his remit either to adhere or, indeed, not to adhere, to treaties, protocols, arrangements, and other instruments of a promissory nature, his capacity being in essence purely advisory; nevertheless, insofar as it was within his capacity so to do, he would tend to regard the arrangement under discussion as effective and binding, as it were, de jure bellum.
Then the Magus turned to the Council.
"Do you hold to the bargain?"
"Such authority!"
"A man's word is his bond!"
"I've always said that the King's word of honour was binding on all upstanding citizens."
Then the Magus pointed her staff at the Daemon again, and said another word; and the Daemon burned away, until all that was left were ashes. Then the Magus lifted the King's daughter onto her horse, and they all processed back to the city, where most people lived happily ever after, although when the men got fractious about their new workload the women would occasionally have to make jokes about man traps. The Council complained amongst themselves, because they were sent to do actual work; the Magus would take advice from anyone she liked -- even women. More scandalous yet, when she wanted a message given to the Corporal, or the Keeper of the Royal Printing Press, or even the Second Royal Under-Scullion, she would go and speak to them herself!
"Such vulgarity!"
"These par-venus never can learn proper distance."
"Well, you know, women -- they're so unreasonable. It's probably her time of the month"
But things in the city went on quite prosperously, and the gatehouse was rebuilt, and the counting house, and the courthouse. It was noticed that the Magus and the King's daughter got up very late in the mornings, and smiled a lot; and the Council, while hoeing the sorghum fields, gossiped amongst themselves.
"Such perversion!"
"What a dreadful example to our daughters!"
"But what I don't understand is, what do they actually do?"
But I believe that the Magus and the King's daughter didn't find any problems with that. Because, well, after all, really, a damsel needs a hero like a... well, like a fish needs a bicycle?
Simon Brooke, 1994
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