The Buried Giant

by Kazuo Ishiguro

“She simply grows old, sir, as we all must do. But she still breathes, and so Merlin’s work lingers.” “Now a little of this comes back to me,” Axl said. “I remember Merlin’s work here and dark it was too.” “Dark, sir?” said Gawain. “Why dark? It was the only way. Even before that battle was properly won, I rode out with four good comrades to tame this same creature, in those days both mighty and angry, so Merlin could place this great spell on her breath. A dark man he may have been, but in this he did God’s will, not only Arthur’s. Without this she-dragon’s breath, would peace ever have come? Look how we live now, sir! Old foes as cousins, village by village. Master Wistan, you fall silent before this sight. I ask again. Will you not leave this poor creature to live out her life? Her breath isn’t what it was, yet holds the magic even now. Think, sir, once that breath should cease, what might be awoken across this land even after these years! Yes, we slaughtered plenty, I admit it, caring not who was strong and who weak. God may not have smiled at us, but we cleansed the land of war. Leave this place, sir, I beg you. We may pray to different gods, yet surely yours will bless this dragon as does mine.” Wistan turned away from the pit to look at the old knight. “What kind of god is it, sir, wishes wrongs to go forgotten and unpunished?”