I’ve got a feeling we may have been wrong about the story of Michael and the dragon. Young men are often inclined to leap into acts of heroism, and thank goodness for that, but virgins are apt to tackle things in a different way.
Virgins know that they have a long journey from Virgin to Witch and they are going to need all the help they can get on the way.
Dragons, you see, have been getting something of a bad press. It’s pretty hard to show your kinder side when every breath is an inferno. But right now, as the year gets dark and cold, we could all do with some extra flames.
The real story goes like this.
The Virgin, we’ll call her Michaella to save confusion, was learning wisdom from the rocks when the dragon approached her. She hadn’t had much experience of dragons, so she was a bit nonplussed. But also fascinated. He was so big, so hot, so leathery. A far cry from the elegant young men she was meeting at the castle.
It took some negotiation, but in the end they decided to travel together. That story will take us through the dark days of Samhain all the way to the miracle of midwinter. Michaela learned to stay close to the dragon’s fiery body during the cold of the journey and the dragon learned to appreciate the steely strength of the Virgin within her softer being.
St George, (we'll call him that to save confusion,) having had quite a night the night before, was late rising and it took him ages to put on all the armour and polish his headdress. He did need to feel safe before he went on an adventure.
When he got to the rocks, there was a bit of a scorched earth look about the landscape, but no sign of a virgin or a dragon. So he went home.
