Sometimes the courage of one true-hearted man makes all the difference.🧵
Every time I read the tale of St George’s showdown with the dragon, my attention is caught by a different detail. One that struck me recently was in the backstory, before George even showed up.
When the dragon’s terrors began, the men of Silene gathered to put a stop to it.
But they all fled in terror the moment the dragon appeared.
This detail not only establishes a contrast between these inferior men and St George, but it also helps to establish the impossibly high cost that a failure of courage can impose.
The dragon now faced no opposition as it "envenomed" the city at will with its horrible breath. (Another important detail.) To appease it, the townspeople gave two sheep per day. But soon that wasn’t enough and they took to offering humans.
It gets worse. Human sacrifices also proved inadequate. The dragon had a more choice appetite. It wanted to eat children. Also very telling. Evil wants the children.
So the people of Silene held lotteries to determine which unfortunate children would be next.
Lesson: the failure of men to muster the necessary courage leads to the sacrifice of their children.
But then, just as the king's daughter was offered up, St George happened upon the scene. He crossed himself, charged the dragon, and killed it. Alone he accomplished what a small army of men could not. Like I said, the courage of one real man sometimes makes all the difference.
St George's courage and martial prowess gave others a chance at life. For this reason he became the patron saint of chivalry.
It appears more and more like the dragons are coming out again and a similar test will be put to us.
St George, ora pro nobis.
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That gap in the Pyrenees is called Roland’s Breach—legend has it that Charlemagne’s most famous knight cut the rock away in the final moments of his life. 🧵
Roland was the medieval Achilles and the last survivor of Charlemagne’s rearguard at the Battle of Roncevaux Pass, where they were treacherously ambushed. As the end neared, he dreaded the seeming inevitability that his sword Durendal would fall into Saracen hands.
He could not allow such a thing to happen.
This was no ordinary sword—made in Heaven and given by an angel to Charlemagne, who then gave it to his nephew and champion. So Roland tried to break the sword by striking against the Pyrenees.
You know St George killed a dragon, but do you know what the dragon was about?
It wasn’t just a random mythological creature, much less one of those nice dragons who will carry riders on his back. It was a venom-spewing devourer of children.🧵
Long before George arrived, the men of Silene decided to do something about the fearsome beast in their country, so they assembled and marched off. But when they were face to face with the monster their hearts gave out, the Golden Legend reports. They fled.
And the cost of their cowardice would be steep. The narrative continues: "And when he came nigh the city he envenomed the people with his breath, and therefore the people of the city gave to him every day two sheep for to feed him, because he should do no harm to the people.”
One of the unsung heroes of the third Crusade was a priest who dove from the battlements of the Jaffa into the sea and swam to Richard the Lionheart’s galley with a cry for help.🧵
Richard had been in Acre making preparations to return to England to deal with the urgent business there (traitors trying to take his kingdom). The Crusade was over, he thought, a brilliant but doomed campaign which he planned to return to after taking back his own kingdom.
Then he heard about Saladin’s surprise attack against Jaffa.
He sailed back to Jaffa and arrived thinking that it was too late; Saracen banners had been raised and the city appeared to have been taken.
A pattern you recognize when reading history is that we can count on being outnumbered. The enemy is so often legion.
One of the greatest mechanisms for maximizing this numerical superiority was the janissary program of the Ottoman Turks. 🧵
This thread will get dark, but a note of hope emerges at the end (as always).
Turkish for “new soldier,” janissaries were elite infantrymen unleashed against the enemies of the Ottomans, like the Christian people of the Balkans.
What made the corps truly devastating was the origin of these soldiers: they were taken from Christian families as boys, indoctrinated in Ottoman ways, and then turned loose against their own people!
Just how dark were the Dark Ages?
Were they hopelessly backwards and barbaric—as we've been led to believe—or were they a time of surprising innovation?🧵
To clarify, I’m talking about the actual Dark Ages, from about the Fall of the Western Roman Empire to the 11th century, or so. I am not talking about the Middle Ages, which are sometimes called "dark" but which obviously weren’t dark.
Intellectuals like Voltaire, Rousseau, and Gibbon are on the record as saying that the Dark Ages are defined by barbarism and backwardness, and their claims have gladly seized upon by public school teachers and pop culture-makers.
On September 12, 1683, one of the greatest cavalry charges in history took place at Kahlenberg Hill, overlooking Vienna, where Jan III Sobieski and his winged hussars saved Christendom from disaster. 🧵
Just a few days back, the Viennese fired distress rockets into the night sky to let any friends who might be out there know that they needed help—now or never. The city had been under siege for almost two months by the Ottoman Turks.
The Turks had already blasted multiple breaches in the walls and the Austrians only barely repulsed them. They couldn't hold out much longer.