that shone as armor
shines after it has been polished, and it had a very great and
remarkable tail. Then there came a cloud out of the east. The grimmest
beast man ever saw rode upon this cloud; it was a wild boar, roaring
and growling so hideously that it was terrifying to hear it. The
dragon flew down the wind like a falcon and struck at this boar; but
it defended itself with its grisly tusks, and wounded the dragon
in the breast so severely that its blood, pouring into the sea in
torrents, made all the waves red. Then the dragon turned and flew
away, and having mounted up to a great height, again swooped down
upon the boar and fastened its claws in the beast's back. The boar
struggled, and raged, and writhed, but all in vain. It was at the
mercy of its foe, and so merciless was the dragon that it never
loosened its grip till it had torn the boar limb from limb and bone
from bone, and scattered it piecemeal upon the surface of the sea.

Then King Arthur awoke, and, starting up in great dismay, sent for a
wise man that was on board the ship and bade him interpret the dream.

"Sir," the wise man said, "the dragon which you saw in your dream
surely betokens your own self, its golden wings signifying the
countries you have won with your sword, and its marvelous tail the
knights of the Round Table. As for the boar that was slain, that may
betoken either a tyrant that torments his people, or some hideous
and abominable giant with whom you are about to fight. And the dream
foreshadows victory for you. Therefore, though it was very dreadful,
you should take comfort from it and be of a good heart."

Before long the sailors sighted land, and the army disembarked at a
port in Flanders, where many great lords were awaiting the arrival
of King Arthur, as had been ordained. And to him, soon after he had
arrived, there came a husbandman bringing grievous news. A monstrous
giant had for years infested the country on the borders of Little
Britain, and had slain many people and devoured such numbers of
children that there were none left for him to prey upon. And being in
search of victims, and coming upon the Duchess of Little Britain as
she rode with her knights, he had laid hands upon her and carried
her off to his den in a mountain. Five hundred men that followed the
duchess could not rescue her, but they heard such heartrending cries
and shrieks that they had little doubt she had been put to death.

"Now," said the husbandman,