Little Christian had scarcely time to put up his shield before Self began to throw fiery darts at him, and he feared that he would soon be killed by them. But the story of David and the giant that he had heard at the Palace Beautiful came into his mind, and he thought, David had only his shepherd’s dress, and I am wearing the good armor that the King has given me. I will trust in Him and try not to be afraid.
So he held his shield firmly on his arm and caught nearly all Self’s darts upon it, until the wicked soldier became wild with rage, and rushing suddenly at little Christian he seized him in his strong arms. Those darts that Christian had not been able to catch upon his shield had struck him and wounded him in his hands and feet. His wounds were very sore and were bleeding so much that he was beginning to feel faint. Self had seen this, and he flung the child upon the ground, thinking he would now be able to kill him. Little Christian had drawn out his sword from its sheath, but when Self threw him down, it fell from his hand, and as he lay on the path he thought he had now no chance of escaping from his cruel enemy. But just as Self was going to strike his last blow, Christian saw that the sword lay within his reach. He put out his hand and caught it up; and before Self had time to prevent him, he thrust it into the soldier’s body and gave him a terrible wound.
Now the soldiers of the Wicked Prince could not bear the pain of a wound given with one of the King’s swords, and Self cried out when Christian struck him. Then the boy’s courage came back to him, and he thrust the weapon at his enemy a second time, and after that Self fled away across the valley, and Christian was left alone.
He lay for a minute upon the path, and then he got up and looked around. All over the grass lay the sharp darts that had been thrown at him, but Self was gone. Christian could not see him anywhere.
It was the King who helped me, he thought, and his heart was full of thankfulness for his wonderful deliverance.
But the poor little soldier had been sadly wounded, and he felt so faint and ill that he was obliged to sit down upon the grass and lean his head against a great rock. He was weak and tired, and I think he must have fallen asleep, for he had a strange dream.
He thought that his mother came across the valley—his own darling mother, whom he had lost so long ago. Her face shone, as little Christian had seen the moonbeams shining on a dark night. A soft, silvery light seemed all around her. She was more beautiful than Discretion, and her eyes, as she looked at him, were full of love and pity. Little Christian stretched out his hands to her, and she came toward him and knelt down on the grass and took him in her arms. Then she tenderly dressed the wounds, and he lay quite still and wondered if she were an angel. She did not speak to him, but presently she laid him down again upon the grass, and then he felt her lips touch his forehead. “Mother! Mother!” he cried, and he opened his eyes. But she was not there. He was lying by the rock and he could see all down the long valley. He was quite alone. He sat up and looked at his wounds. They were not bleeding now, and they did not even ache.
I must have been dreaming, he thought. And yet the wounds are all healed! Perhaps it was my mother. They said she would often be near me. Oh, I think the King might have sent her to help me, when He saw I was sick and faint. Or at least He must have sent one of His Shining Ones!
Then he remembered that Discretion had given him some food, so he sat still for a little while and ate the bread and meat that she had given him.
I must make haste, he thought, for I have lost so much time. I wonder whether Self has really gone quite away, or whether he will come back to look for me again. And he said the soldiers were all around. I must be ready to meet them.
So he kept his sword in his hand and looked carefully from side to side, among the rocks and bushes, as he went along.