A dragon, attracted to the evil in the air, made its lair beneath a hill in the town of Brent Pelham. But since everything had already been burned and stolen by the Conqueror, it turned its greedy eyes on the village itself, setting everything ablaze. The villagers, desperate, hid in the stone church and wrote a letter to their lord, Piers Shonks, who was away fighting in William's wars.
Piers, a skeptic, returned with his Saxon servant, Alfred, and was shocked to see the devastation. They discovered a giant reptilian footprint, a clear sign that this was no ordinary fire. Piers, a renowned hunter and warrior, promised his people he would slay the beast. He rode towards the dragon's lair with his hounds and his servant.
A great ball of fire shot from the cave, and Piers was ready. But his horse, terrified, threw him from the saddle. Piers drew his sword and hurled it directly at the beast. The sword caught the sunlight as it spun through the air and struck the beast square in the chest. It roared and writhed in pain, but this only seemed to make it angrier, and a third ball of fire came soaring towards the knight.
Piers rolled and ducked behind a boulder, his armour and weapons gone, his village and its people in danger. All seemed lost, but then he heard it. "Beastie, come and get me over here!" Alfred, his servant, was waving his own discarded lance, trying to lure the dragon. The monster turned its ire upon the servant.
Piers seized his chance, running onto the dragon's tail and climbing its back. Alfred threw his spear true, and Piers, catching the weapon, plunged it down the beast’s throat. The monster roared one last time and tumbled to the ground, dead.
The townsfolk cheered, but their joy was short-lived as another figure emerged from the cave. This was no dragon, but a being with a cloak that shimmered like flame, a figure with cloven hooves and two horns. "Curse you, knight!" the figure sneered, his bony finger jabbing at Piers. "You have slain my favourite pet, but now in me your match you have met. In ten years next, my dear, dear Piers, your death shall flood Pelham in tears. Your soul will be mine, of this I have no doubt, whether you were buried in a church or out." And with that, the devil disappeared in a gout of fire.
Piers, undeterred, stayed in Pelham and worked with the townsfolk to rebuild what was lost. The work was hard, but each year, the town became stronger. As the village grew, however, Piers grew weaker. As the tenth year approached, Piers was dying, and the devil returned to claim his soul.
Piers asked for one last boon: to string his favourite hunting bow and shoot one final arrow. The devil, intrigued, agreed, and Piers drew his bow back and loosed. The arrow flew true and struck the north wall of St. Mary's Church. The knight then smiled to himself, for the curious thing about that is, if he is buried in the wall of the church, he is neither in it nor out of it. The devil had been beaten at his own game.
"Curse you, Pierce Shonks!" the devil bellowed. "You have me beat, you tricked me fair, and no more shall we meet." And with that, the devil once more disappeared in a fireball, down to hell. And with a final, victorious laugh, Piers Shonks fell dead. To this day, if you go to the north wall of St. Mary's Church, you can see the effigy of the bravest knight in Hertfordshire, who saved his town from the fires of a dragon and spared his own soul from the fires of hell.
The Dragon in the British Psyche
Dragons are more than just mythical beasts; they are a deep-seated part of our culture, an ultimate test for heroes and a reflection of our fears.
Throughout British folklore, we find different types of dragons, each with its own characteristics. The most common are the dragons—four-legged winged beasts—and the wyverns, which are smaller, two-legged, and more agile. There are also drakes, who walk on long legs, and wyrms, the wingless, crawling creatures like the one in the Lambton story. In some tales, dragons are even linked to water, like the Nucca, or even closer to birds, such as the dreaded cockatrice, a creature said to be hatched by a toad from a hen's egg. Its deadly gaze could turn a person to stone, and it could only be defeated by seeing its own reflection.
The stories of dragon slayers are just as varied as the dragons themselves. But one common thread is that these heroes are rarely commoners. They are nobles, knights, or kings, such as St. George or Piers Shonks. This is not accidental. The dragon represents an evil that is both primal and majestic, and folklore often demands that this type of evil be defeated by an exemplary, high-born good.
Dragons also serve as a powerful allegory for human flaws. They are often defined by their greed and their obsession with hoarding gold. This theme is captured perfectly in the tale of Fafnir, a dwarf who was so corrupted by his own malice and greed that he literally transformed into a dragon.
Ultimately, dragons represent the conquering of adversity. They are the final boss, the end-baddie. Their function in these stories is to tax the skill and, above all, the courage of the hero. Armies cannot defeat them; only a brave individual can. As writer G.K. Chesterton once said, "We do not tell fairy tales so that our children will think dragons existed. They already know dragons exist. We tell them fairy tales so they know dragons can be killed."