Chapter Eight

ERHAPS, STEVEN THOUGHT, HE SHOULD have paid the tinker for his story with one of his own and set off at a more brisk pace to put steps behind him; but the tinker was such good company and Steven had so many questions that it was difficult to part. Steven spent the entire walk the next day asking for more details. While others he had met confessed to have heard of a dragon, the tinker was the first who actually knew a story about one and may have even seen the impossible pot at some point in his life.

“What color was the dragon in your story,” Steven asked.

“Well, mostly green,” answered the tinker. “Didn’t I mention green? Although she was encrusted with jewels from lying on her hoard. You knew dragons had a hoard, didn’t you? They collect treasure all their lives. The man who masters a dragon is a wealthy man indeed.”

“Did this dragon change to a damsel only at night, or could it happen at any time of day?” Steven continued to probe.

“The dragon was more inclined to human form when in human company and kept her dragon form as her natural state. Armand loved the lady and feared the dragon. So, naturally the creature stayed a lady most of the time they were together,” the tinker answered.

“What happened after the seven years?” Steven asked next. “Did Armand Hamar stay with the dragonlady or go back to being a tinker?”

“Now that is a puzzle to most people,” said the tinker. “Some have said they see him wandering the roads to this day. Others that it is a seven year with and seven year without kind of romance and he goes back to her after he has wandered seven years away. But the stories all seem to agree that his time with the dragon gave Armand an exceptionally long lifespan. Some say he even turned to a dragon himself.”

“Do you mean you could become a dragon?” Steven asked, astonished. This thought had never crossed his mind. Perhaps his dragon had once been someone else. Perhaps even the missionary who had come to his village eons ago.

The tinker simply nodded and said, “Some say.”

Before Steven realized it, the bulk of the day had passed and there ahead of them lay a sizeable mountain village. Banners streamed in the afternoon sun from the town’s main street, for as they drew nearer, Steven could see that this was no one-road town, but that more buildings than he had ever seen leaned into each other along twisting cartpaths through the town. Steven was in awe.

“I’ve never seen so many people. This must be what is meant by a city,” he told the tinker, keeping close to the cart.

“Not so large as a real city,” the tinker said. “But this is the main trading center for many days journey around. I’ll set up shop in the market and do a sharp business tonight and tomorrow. I’m afraid I’ll have to wait to hear your story until tomorrow night.”

At this Steven chafed a bit, but a deal was a deal, and just because he could not tell his story around the fire tonight, he still owed the story to the tinker and was bound to pay him. It was only fair. He helped the tinker open his cart for the customers who already had lined up with broken pots, furniture, and even a dog with three legs and a wheel. Steven soon found that the tinker had made the extraordinary contraption for the dog who got around almost as well as a normal dog as a result.

Steven also found that some of the buildings were shops where goods were bought and sold. Having never seen or used coins before, Steven was at a loss for how he could trade for food or supplies. The tinker came to Steven’s rescue, buying each of them a meat pie from a vendor and a tankard of ale from another. Steven was reluctant to be any further in the tinker’s debt, but the tinker seemed to think that Steven was performing a useful service by keeping people in an orderly line as they brought their things to be mended, or sought to buy a new pot or have a talk with the tinker about mending a roof.

The two worked well into the evening around the tinker’s fire and Steven proved himself worthy by mending a cane chair himself. He discovered that many of the tasks the tinker performed for others in town were things that people in his village had to do for themselves. When they were too tired to go on, the slept with the donkey, leaning up against the cart.

They were awake before dawn, now working side-by-side. Steven went off to mend a thatched roof for the tinker and returned with coins that the tinker said were his for his labor. Steven was remarkably proud of the coins and placed them in the same pouch with his precious herbs where they jingled merrily when he walked. Late the second day, as they were cleaning up the remains of the work they had to do, a man dressed in fine clothes came up to the tinker.

“The master asks you and your assistant to join him at the manor for the evening meal,” said the man.

“Ah,” said the tinker. “And what might the master want with a poor tinker?” This was said with a slight lilt and Steven caught a devilish wink from the tinker.

“Naught but your company, and perhaps a story,” said the man. There will be clean straw for your bed and a hot meal in return.

“Tell the master that his humble servant will attend him after the sun has set,” answered the tinker. The man was satisfied and went off with his message. The tinker turned to Steven and said, “It seems the story you are to tell me must be shared with others tonight. I do hope it is a good one!”

Dinner at the manor was the most elaborate meal Steven had ever witnessed. There was as much food as at any village feast, and in addition to the master, a number of other townspeople had been invited. The tinker introduced Steven George the Dragonslayer to the master and Steven was seated at the table next to the tinker.

“That is a spectacular hat you are wearing,” said the master to Steven. “I dare say we have never seen anything like it in this part of the mountains.” Several young women who had heard the comment hid their faces, but Steven could hear their laughter.

“It is a badge of honor to wear this hat,” said Steven. “Many there are who would have it, but it is the only one of its kind in the known world.” Steven spoke as though he knew all the known world rather than just the two hundred sixty-eight thousand seventy-four steps he had journeyed from his home.

“Perhaps,” said the tinker, “if it pleases the master, you will take my place to pay for our meal and beds with the story of that remarkable hat.”

“Yes, yes,” said the master. “If it is as unique as you say, it will be a story well worth the meal.”

“This story has been passed down for generations along with the hat,” Steven improvised as he stood to address the assembled dinner guests.

The Humble Haberdasher

NCE UPON A TIME, many steps ago, there lived a humble haberdasher named Kasimar Cu Caciula, known to all his customers as Kaz-In-A-Hat. The place where he lived was very hot in the summer, so people came to Kaz from far away to get the light summer hats that he made from straw to shield them from the sun. The place where he lived was also very cold in the winter, so people came to Kaz from far away to get the warm winter hats with earflaps that he made from Sheep’s skin to warm them in the cold. Kaz made beautiful hats and hats that were not so beautiful, but all his hats were warm in the winter and cool in the summer.

One day as Kaz sat at his haberdasher bench molding a particularly fine sheepskin hat, he spied a rat creeping along the wall looking for scraps his family might have dropped. Kaz threw a wooden hatblock at the rat. The rat neatly sidestepped the block and continued calmly to investigate a site it seemed particularly interested in.

Kaz threw a rabbit pelt at the rat, but the rat again neatly stepped aside and continued foraging. Looking for another projectile, Kaz pulled the not-yet-finished hat from the table and flung it at the rat. Because of its unique shape, the hat floated gently through the air and settled cozily over the surprised rat.

Now the rat was alarmed. It scurried left and right bumping into table leg and chair. But since it could not see outside the hat, it could not tell that its doom approached on the feet of Kaz-In-A-Hat. Kaz followed the hat around the room with the rat’s tail protruding from one edge. As the rat ran into a blank wall and was for a moment dazed, Kaz snatched it up by the tail, removed it from the shop and drowned it in a pail of water.

Satisfied that his home and shop were once again safe from infestation, Kaz recovered the hat and proceeded to finish it. As he worked, he absent-mindedly hummed a little ditty to himself that he made up as he went along.

“With this hat

I killed a rat.

Through the air it lightly flew

If there’d been another, I’d killed two.

And if another had come to see,

With this hat, I’d killed three.

You ask if I could handle four,

I say to you, bring more, bring more!”

Kaz was incredibly pleased with himself, both for having been clever enough to catch the rat and for the ditty he had made up celebrating the fact. But little did Kaz know that his youngest child had wandered by as he sang his song. The child, always in awe of his father and his splendid hats, continued to his playmates and—as children are prone to do—proceeded at once to brag about his father’s accomplishments.

“My Papa,” said the little one, “has made a magic hat that catches rats.” The child’s playmates were suitably awed. They went to their homes and told their parents about the magic hat that could hunt by itself.

The parents spoke to other parents and soon the whole city was abuzz with the news that Kaz-In-A-Hat had made a hat that could feed them all during the winter. A soldier overheard two peasants talking about the miraculous hat that could protect a village from bandits. He went to the king to tell the king of a hatmaker who had made a weapon that could defeat all their enemies.

The king was deaf to the stories the soldier told for his only daughter had been recently kidnapped and was being held by a fearsome dragon high in the mountains. He could not send an army to rescue her because the paths were so narrow in the mountains that they could be ambushed and destroyed. His magicians had professed ignorance of dragon magic. He could only think that he must offer a great reward to get a hero to go rescue his daughter.

Then what the soldier had said sank in. Perhaps he had a hero in his kingdom.

“Go to this hat-maker,” said the king. “Summon him to my presence and let us see if his magic is a match for the dragon.”

When Kaz went to his shop the next morning, he found the doorway crowded with people who wanted him to make one of his magical hats for them. They crowded into the small shop and Kaz was overwhelmed with the number of requests that were made. At last, a soldier shouldered his way through the door and demanded that everyone leave; the king had need of Kaz-In-A-Hat. Kaz was told to bring his magical hat with him and appear before the king.

Kaz snatched up the hat he had dubbed Ratcatcher and followed the soldier to the castle. He thought perhaps the king had an infestation of rats and had heard that Kaz could catch them. But when he knelt before the king and heard the actual command, he quailed.

How was he to defeat a dragon and rescue the princess. And why? He certainly didn’t need a princess to marry as he was happily married with a family. He didn’t need a king’s ransom because he had a business and many customers. And he certainly didn’t need the squadron of soldiers sent to accompany him up the mountain to the place where the path narrowed and there was no way to go but forward. Here the army halted and Kaz was sent on his way alone.

The way twisted and turned and Kaz was certain he was lost except there had been no branching in the path and no place he could step off it. At long last he began to see signs of a mighty beast. The tops and then the trunks of some of the trees were scorched. Other trees had simply been broken off like a matchstick. The foul breath of the dragon permeated everything that was around Kaz and at last he had pity on the princess who must be suffering with the awful smell.

Then Kaz saw the dragon. It was a fearful beast with a spiked tail and three horns growing from its head. Its wings were feathered in leather and his skin was encrusted with jewels. Razor-sharp claws protruded from its limbs and Kaz was certain that he had met his death. Clutched beneath one wing like a new prized treasure was the princess who shook beneath the dragon’s paw, tears pouring from her eyes.

“Save me!” cried the princess. This had the effect of alerting the dragon to Kasimar’s presence. The dragon swiveled its head in his direction and began at once to take the breath that would roast the haberdasher where he stood.

Kaz had only the weapon of his hat and reacted instantly with the same accurate throw he had used on the ill-fated rat. His hat sailed through the air distracting the dragon for a moment. In that instant, the hat settled on the dragon’s nose.

The dragon belched forth fire, but it was a vain attempt, for the hat held and the fire was forced back into the dragon’s lungs. The dragon’s fire was quenched and as it struggled to dislodge the hat from its face, Kaz rushed forward, drew his sewing shears, and thrust them into the dragon’s heart. The dragon faltered, looked at Kaz out of one mournful eye and fell dead at his feet. Kaz immediately used his trusty scissors to snip a whole in the wing that the princess was able to crawl out of. She took one look at the fallen dragon and at Kaz and ran crying from the clearing down the mountain path in the direction from which Kaz had come.

For his part, Kaz attempted to retrieve his smoking hat from the dragon’s face. When it was dislodged, the inside had been charred. Dragon feathers clung to the fur outside the hat. Kaz proceeded to pluck more of the dragon’s feathers and decorate his amazing hat, then cut a strip of the leathery hide to wrap around the brim. He took a talisman from the dragon’s gem encrusted belly and fastened the skin in place. Then using his scissors, as sharp as a razor, he cut a finger-bone from the dragon’s claws and fastened it to the side of the hat.

Kaz made his own way down off the mountain and when he returned to the castle he discovered that the army had escorted the princess home. The captain who had blocked Kasimar’s retreat had been praised for delivering the princess and she had already agreed to marry him. Her father gave them a king’s ransom as a dowry. No one seemed even to recognize Kaz, and so he simply left and went home.

Kaz continued his simple life and lived to a great age, but never again was he called upon to make a magic hat or to rescue a captured princess. But Ratcatcher the amazing hat was passed down through the ages with the story of the haberdasher who slew a dragon and sits on this head before you now.

Chapter 7
Chapter 9