The sun-withered Italian priest took my elbow, whispering conspiratorially, “You are interested in the St. George. Legend.” A statement.
I nodded politely, trying to walk away. He held on, deceptively strong.
“He is buried here. The real one. Deep in the rock below the church.” He relaxed his grip, but continued, certain of my attention. “The creature — the Dragon — lived in the lake at Carthage…now Tunis, ever-hungry for sacrifice. Worshipped since the first Canaanites settled there.”
White teeth gleamed in the candlelight. “Do you want to see it? The Dragon, I mean. You see it is here, too.”
Image Credit: Raphael