Episode 163 – Twilight Princess – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 163 Show Notes

Source: French Canadian Folklore

This week on MYTH, we’ll travel to modern Quebec for two stories from French Canada. You’ll discover that some royal relationships are inevitable (and that’s not necessarily a bad thing), that unhappy fairies can make their grumpiness everyone else’s problem, and that you should always know where your magic ring is. Then, in Gods and Monsters, a beautiful woman getting kidnapped by pirates doesn’t usually turn out as well as it did for Elizabeth Swan in Pirates of the Caribbean. This is the Myths Your Teacher Hated podcast, where I tell the stories of cultures from around the world in all of their original, bloody, uncensored glory. Modern tellings of these stories have become dry and dusty, but I’ll be trying to breathe new life into them. This is Episode 163, “Twilight Princess”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
This week’s source, The Golden Phoenix by Marius Barbeau was suggested by Aven on Bluesky, and it’s one I’d never heard of before (so of course I had to dive in as soon as possible). According to the author, these tales were collected first-hand from story tellers along the St. Lawrence River over the span of many years. They came originally with colonizers from France and other European countries around 300 years ago and have marinated in the local flavor for those centuries (including influences from some of the indigenous peoples and their own folklore traditions).
Once upon a time, many long years ago, there were two small kingdoms side by side in their small corner of the world. They were the best of neighbors, especially since the kings who ruled over them were both honest, diligent men who put all their effort into making the lives of their citizens as happy and prosperous as they possibly could. Even when the drums of war rang out across the land, these two kingdoms stood in peaceful solidarity and friendship. Only if one of them was directly threatened would the call to arms go out, and then each would rally to the defense of the other to drive out any would-be invaders. It was a safe, idyllic place to live.
Our story begins with a great celebration ringing through one of these two kingdoms. In the realm of King Ogla, a prince had been born, his only son and heir. The celebration spread across the entire nation and lasted a full fortnight (a fancy way of saying two weeks), including massive bonfires and spectacular fireworks displays. Nobles and courtiers from the friendly neighboring kingdom came in a great procession to see the young Prince Philidor, bearing kingly gifts and wishes of long life and great happiness for the infant prince.
Among these esteemed guests in the court of King Ogla was Svelta, a beautiful young fairy. She had arrived in radiant splendor in a flying chariot drawn by silver dragonflies. Looking down on the sleeping prince in his crib, she wished young Philidor courage, wisdom, and manly beauty. Something in his countenance troubled the young fairy however, and she pulled the queen aside for a private council. “My lady, take this ring, which I have named the Ring of Deliverance. I looked into your son’s future and I am sorry to say that I saw a dark cloud hanging over his sleeping face. Danger looms on the horizon and will one day threaten the prince. I’m afraid that I do not have the power to prevent this threat, but if Philidor wears the Ring of Deliverance, it will help keep him safe from any harm that doom might offer. Take it and keep it safe. Farewell, my lady!” And so Svelta departed in her winged chariot as she had come, leaving unease in her wake.
Svelta had come towards the end of the festivities so as to not cast a pall over them before she absolutely had to, making her one of the last guests to arrive. But not the last. She was also the only fairy invited to the party, but she was not the only one to arrive. A hideous old crone of a fairy named Aigruchonne dwelt somewhere in the wild places of the two kingdoms. No one knew exactly where and frankly, no one cared. She was a spiteful, vindictive old bitch who hated the world for no good reason and wished ill on everyone in it. She was not the kind of spirit one invited to a child’s birthday party, but she was absolutely the kind to crash the festivities anyway. That’s not to say that she enjoyed parties. Quite the contrary – like Dr. Seuss’ Grinch, she hated them with a white-hot passion; the joy of others brought her agony and misery. She hated seeing so many people having the audacity to be happy. Hearing everyone wish the infant prince a long and happy life made her grind her teeth to dust.
“Fuck all of you and especially fuck that baby! I’ll just have to see what I can do about that ‘happy life’ bullshit.” Keeping her fury carefully banked but by no means extinguished, she went away, schemes churning in her head. In a lot of stories, this ire is due to a powerful fairy not being invited when others of her kind are, and while that’s not exactly the case here I have to wonder if it still plays a part. The story makes it very clear that everyone hates this ugly fairy, and I can’t help but wonder if she was always cruel and misanthropic or if being hated for her appearance pushed her over the edge. It doesn’t justify her upcoming bad behavior, but maybe a few party invites could have spared the kingdom some magical heartache.
Not long after this, a princess was born in the other kingdom (whose king is not named for some reason). Another round of joyous celebrations broke out, this time centered on the other realm for yet another fortnight. To return the kindness of their neighbors, King Ogla sent his own procession of courtiers and nobles with kingly gifts and well wishes for the infant Princess Irena. As before, the lovely fairy Svelta was invited and arrived in her splendiferous flying chariot drawn by silver dragonflies to offer good wishes to the young royal. She looked into this child’s future as well, but apparently did not see any troubling dark cloud of doom looming there. “No matter what happens, princess, you will always walk in beauty like the dawn. Fair flowers will bloom in your footsteps and trees will bear ripe fruit beneath your gaze.” It’s no magical ring but it’s still pretty cool, I guess. Seems like you could have put that wish in a locket or something for the sake of equity, but whatever. No one asked me.
And also like before, the hideous crone Aigruchonne was very much not invited but had no problem slipping into the royal court anyway. Powerful fairy magic can open a lot of locked doors. Her withered black heart churned with spite at the promised joy and happiness being wished upon the infant princess, and she gnashed her teeth in hate. “Fuck all of you and especially fuck that baby. I’ll just have to see what I can do about that ‘happy life’ bullshit.” Keeping her fury carefully banked but by no means extinguished, she went away, schemes churning in her head. Two wondrous occasions in such short order had really pushed her hatred of everyone around her to new heights, and she was hellbent for leather in her quest for revenge.
The two kings thought that it felt like fate for a prince to be born in one kingdom almost immediately followed by a princess in the other. The two realms grew even closer in friendship than ever before and people began to wonder aloud about how cool it would be if the prince and the princess got married one day. It’s weird how much we push adult relationship dynamics on literal children, isn’t it? Anyway, the people of the two kingdoms rather liked the idea of uniting the realms under a single joint banner, ruled by the equally united Philidor and Irena.
Years passed, and it began to look more and more like these idle speculations might actually come to pass. Prince Philidor grew into the man that Svelta had promised – brave, handsome, and wise, a kind-hearted and benevolent ruler. Likewise Princess Irena grew into a spectacular beauty, possessing the grace, wit, and kind heart that Svelta had promised her in turn. The two were not forced into an arranged marriage, but I have to imagine that the entire kingdom worked to see to it that these two young people eventually fell in love, and sure enough, that’s exactly what happened (much to everyone’s delight). Their royal parents gave their enthusiastic blessing on this union and soon arrangements were being made for their lavish and spectacular wedding. There was to be a fortnight of celebrations, complete with bonfires, fireworks, drinking, and dancing in the streets.
Everything was going great until the doom that Svelta had foreseen finally arrived. On the day before the wedding, the Prince and the Princess both vanished without a trace. Search parties were organized as soon as the disappearances were noticed, scouring the length and breadth of the two kingdoms to no avail. Each group came back with increasingly disheartened expressions as it became clear that Philidor and Irena were simply gone like a puff of smoke. The prince had been out hunting in the woods near his home when he disappeared. His bow and arrows were recovered, leading to a flurry of activity there, but no other sign of him or where he had gone could be discovered. Irena had been out picking flowers in the garden behind her home. A gardener who had been working in the area told her father that he had seen the princess that very morning. A cloud had passed over the sun, darkening the world and when it was gone, so was the princess.
Shock and despair rocked the two kingdoms with the simultaneous disappearance of their mutual heirs as well as the cancellation of the party of the decade. Silence fell over the castles and cottages alike of the two kingdoms, broken only by the bereaved weeping of the populations of the two kingdoms. By now, you’ve probably already guessed who was behind this and why it seemed like the two young royals disappeared as if by magic. It’s because it was, in fact, actually magic. The cruel, vindictive fairy Aigruchonne had not forgotten her oath of destruction upon the two innocent babies, she’d simply been biding her time to cause as much sorrow and despair as possible. When word reached her of the pending nuptials as well as the celebration set to rollick across two entire kingdoms for two entire weeks, the evil fairy snapped. She had to stop Christmas from coming, but how? She may have been green with envy (much like her spiritual kin the Grinch), but the story says that her face turned a gross mottled purple in her fury at the coming joy of these two young people (who had done absolutely nothing to her).
Climbing into her own magical chariot, one as black as a moonless night and drawn by four winged cats (which is honestly pretty metal), she flew off from her wild home on a whirlwind. First, she swooped down on Prince Philidor as he was hunting, catching him by surprise (because who expects to be magically dive-bombed?). Pointing her gnarled magic staff at the young man, she hissed her curse. “Plague, murrain, pox! Prince into fox!” The unsuspecting prince vanished in a puff of oily smoke, which drifted away to reveal a sad blue fox with mournful eyes and a long, bushy tail. Cackling madly, the fae pointed a gnarled finger into the deepest, blackest depths of the forest. “Go! Go you foul beast and vanish into the tangled underbrush far from where humans dare to tread.” Prince Philidor struggled to resist this compulsion, but her magic was too strong. After a heated moment of silent struggle, the blue fox slunk away into the thicket and was lost to sight.
Driving her cat-drawn chariot (which feels like a twisted mirror version of the Norse goddess Freyja) into the sky once more, Aigruchonne headed after her second quarry. She found Princess Irena picking flowers in the garden as we’ve already established. Masking her movements in that dark cloud the gardener saw, the wicked fairy swooped down and snagged Irena in a large sheet, wrapping her up and binding her inside the chariot. In mere moments, she was aloft again and away, leaving no trail to follow the vanished princess. They returned to the deep, dark heart of the forest where not even the bravest or most reckless hunters dared to tread. Despite the isolation from any human habitation, a twisted, miserable little hut sat there all alone surrounded by a hedge of wickedly sharp thorns twelve feet high. Dumping the princess unceremoniously inside the prison, Aigruchonne leveled her magic staff a second time. “Live ever here alone, no beauty but your own!” And then she swept back into the air in her chariot, abandoning Irena to isolation.
Dejected, Irena turned to head into the miserable little cabin that the cruel fairy had abandoned her in for no reason she could see. As she did though, a strange transformation took place. The wretched hut became a snug but inviting little cottage with bright morning glories climbing the walls to add a dash of color to the drab environment. Everywhere the princess looked, more flowers erupted in a riot of botanical beauty. The withered, dead old cherry tree in the front yard returned to vibrant life, its branches growing heavy with succulent fruit. And that awful thorny hedge became a mass of sweet-smelling honeysuckle, filling the air with its delicate perfume. Svelta’s long-ago promise that fair flowers would bloom and trees would bear ripe fruit in her presence is paying off in spades. I still think it would have been cool to have put the spell in an amulet or something, just for the aesthetic, but the blessing itself is actually quite useful.
This complete metamorphosis of this dreary, hateful prison into a wilderness idyll did a lot to soothe the princess’ soul and cheer her up, but only in the short term. None of that changed the fact that she was still very much a prisoner consigned to a life sentence for no crime at all. The hedge might be more pleasant to look at and more enticing to smell, but it was still utterly impenetrable, leaving Irena no chance of escape. She could not break through, nor could she climb over. Without assistance that would almost certainly never be coming (no one ever ventured this deep into the dangerous forest), she would be trapped here in this cute little prison for the rest of her life. She was all alone out here.
Or so she thought. To her great surprise, Irena saw a small blue fox poke its head out from a small hole in the hedge beyond the blossoming cherry tree. He looked around cautiously and, seeing no danger, he squeezed the rest of his small form out from the hedge. Shaking himself vigorously, the fox trotted over to the cherry tree to nibble on some fresh cherries that had fallen from the branches. Irena was entranced by the fox’s magical beauty (having no idea who this blue fox really was of course), so she stayed as still as she could so as to not spook him. She was so thrilled to see another living creature out here with her that she was terrified of accidentally driving him away. Heart pounding with anxiety, Irena decided to try and befriend the little fox, Disney princess style. And I mean that in a very literal sense – you see, her chosen method of friendship was a song. “Blue fox beneath the wild cherry tree, please won’t you stay and visit me?”
The fox heard Irena’s song and lifted his head to peer around. She might not recognize him in his new animal form, but Philidor absolutely knew the sound of his fiance’s voice. Seeing her standing still beside the cottage, he leapt ecstatically into the air and then bounded happily over to her side. He was more than happy to let her stroke his soft fur and coo nonsense into his fuzzy ears. Once the initial excitement of their meeting was over, Philidor curled up into a ball at her feet and fell asleep with his head in her hands. He’d had a long fucking day, but being reuinited with his beloved fiance (even if she didn’t know it) was a soothing balm for his wounded soul.
Unable to believe her success at befriending a wild fox with a song (which isn’t exactly what happened, but it’s also not what happened), Irena stayed there sitting on the ground with her new fox friend until twilight. Finally, Philidor woke with a yawn and a big stretch. With a little shake, he headed again for the small gap in the hedge he had squeezed his way in from. Irena was devastated that her new friend was clearly about to leave again. Before he did though, the blue fox turned back around and stared at her with big soulful eyes, willing her to understand that he would be back. Their bond was strong enough that Irena did indeed understand. She waved goodbye to her kind blue fox as he headed out into the forest.
By now, news had reached the kind fairy Svelta about the impossible disappearance of the two young royals. She had foreseen this dark day when the two were infants though, as she had said back then, she did not have the power to prevent the disaster from happening in the first place (I guess Aigruchonne is too powerful in her own right for Svelta to stop dead). Now that things were in motion however, she could absolutely interfere with her cruel counterparts’ plans. The fairy set out at once to begin her rescue. She went first to see Philidor’s mother, the Queen, and remind her of her gift of the Ring of Deliverance so many years ago.
“Was your son wearing the ring I gave him when he was first born?” The Queen thought about it a moment. “Alas no, I don’t think he was. In all of the excitement about the wedding, we forgot all about it. He didn’t want any other jewelry to distract from the commitment of the wedding ring. It’s in a safe place though – let me go fetch it!” The Queen hurried to her sewing room and found the ring in a box of thimbles where she had put it for safe keeping. “Here it is! Now all we need to do is give it to Philidor and he’ll be saved.” The fairy shook her head slowly.
“That would be true, my lady, if only we knew where Prince Philidor was. I will have to find him first, which is no easy task.” The Queen’s face fell. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.” Giving the grieving mother a reassuring pat, Svelta climbed into her silver dragonwing drawn chariot and flew off. Her magic was of no use in finding the missing prince. She’d tried, certainly, but her magic was not nearly strong enough to directly overcome Aigruchonne’s. With a little subtlety though, Svelta thought she might be able to finesse things. She headed first to the forest where Philidor’s bow and arrows had been recovered. Perhaps she could use her mystical gifts to pick up the trail from there.
Twilight had fallen by the time the good fairy reached the empty stretch of forest where the prince had vanished. She called his name in a voice as lovely as she was, accompanied by tinkling silver bells, but as expected, she received no answer. It was too dark to make a proper search of things, so Svelta settled down to wait, making herself a bed of thistledown to sleep in. Feeling more than a little out of her depth, she lay down and went to sleep. Creatures of the forest passed by, but none disturbed her slumber.
In her isolated cottage prison, Princess Irena was up bright and early the next morning. She made a quick breakfast of fresh fruit (it wasn’t like she was exactly spoiled for options – the fairy hadn’t left much in the way of supplies) and then sat outside to wait. She hoped that her new friend, the blue fox, would return once more to grace her with his company. She didn’t have to wait long before she heard a rustling in the honeysuckle hedge and that selfsame fox poked his head out to look around. Trying not to make any sudden movements and risk spooking him, Irena tried the Disney princess trick again. “Blue fox beneath the wild cherry tree, please won’t you come and visit me?”
It worked like a charm. The fox scurried under the hedge and shook himself before trotting happily towards her. This almost certainly has less to do with any magical qualities of her singing and more to do with this being the lonely transformed prince. He lay his head down on her knee while she gently fed him sweet cherries. He would have been quite content to hang out like this all day, but his ears caught the faint sounds of something very different from the usual forest sounds. He lifted his head and cocked his ears towards the far off sound of jingling bells. Irena strained her own ears and could just make out some kind of sound though it meant nothing to her.
For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, Philidor the fox felt drawn to the sound. He paced back and forth, restless and caught between a need to investigate and a desire to stay with his beloved fiance. Finally, he gave Irena’s hand a gentle lick as if to indicate that he was sorry but he had to go, but he promised to come back as soon as he could. Then he was off in a flash of blue fur, scurrying under the hedge and vanishing.
The sound was of course Svelta, doing her best to follow Philidor’s faint trail. She called out as she went, ringing those bells laden with her magic to try and draw him to her. When she saw the small blue figure loping towards her, she laughed with joy and relief. Her keen fae eyes saw through the magical transformation to the human prince beneath. “Well hello there, your highness. I had hoped to save you from this disaster with the Ring of Deliverance I gifted to you as a baby, but I don’t think it will stay on your tiny fox paw. I guess we’ll have to come up with something terribly clever instead.”
The little fox, who understood every word, danced and wriggled at her feet with a pleading look in his eyes. He even lifted one paw up towards her to make sure she understood. “Oh, do you want the ring anyway, little fox prince? Well it is yours, so I suppose you have every right to it. Very well.” With a grateful expression, the fox took the ring delicately in his mouth and dashed off into the forest. Abandoning any pretense at being a normal fox (or as normal as a fox can be with unnatural blue fur), he didn’t wait to be invited in by Irena’s song. He wriggled through the hedge and dashed over to Irena with the ring, dropping it into her hand.
The princess laughed and cried a little when she saw what her little animal friend had brought. She didn’t recognize this simple band as anything special (it sounds like maybe Philidor’s mother never bothered to tell him how important the ring was), so she thought the little fox had found a shiny thing somewhere and brought it to her as a gift. “Blue fox beneath the wild cherry tree, pray have you come to marry me?” The fox did a twirling leap in response before prodding her hand with his nose and climbing in her lap, watching expectantly. “Well I don’t suppose I can disappoint my only friend in this dreary place. I’m going to spend the rest of my days out here in this twilight prison, so I guess it’s not like I’ll ever get to marry the man I hoped to wed.” Depression crashed over her at the thought and she nearly collapsed into hopeless tears, but she kept them at bay. She didn’t want to frighten her little fox friend who was trying so hard to be kind. Forcing a smile, she put on the Ring of Deliverance.
Kraka-boom! A tremendous explosion rocked the tranquil forest, shattering the silence. Irena was bowled over by the force of the blast. When she crawled back to a sitting position and opened her eyes, her world was lost in hazy purple mist. It slowly cleared to reveal… her very own garden, the one she had been tending when she had been taken. She was home! And, even more surprising, the little blue fox on her knee had been replaced by her very own Prince Philidor, once more in his proper shape. He looked almost as surprised as she did, and he hastily extricated himself from her lap (they were not married yet, so it wasn’t entirely proper not that she cared at the moment).
Everyone in the palace came running at the unexpected shockwave. First came the gardeners, then the footmen, stableboys, lackeys, kitchen scullions, pages, butlers, chambermaids, and finally the King and Queen themselves. Each new wave stopped to stare in stunned silence at the suddenly returned heirs who had appeared out of thin air in a literal puff of smoke. The two monarchs rushed to embrace the young couple, who they had feared lost forever. Horses and carriages were sent for, then sent out across this kingdom and the neighboring one with the incredible good news. The fastest carried the royal family themselves directly for King Ogla’s palace for royal reunion part two, electric boogaloo.
Everyone was overjoyed at this miracle and sat in rapt attention as the two young people relayed their different but similar stories of treachery at the hands of the cruel fairy. It was quickly agreed that they should go ahead with the wedding as soon as possible lest that awful crone Aigruchonne work further mischief. People raced to resume the previously aborted wedding preparations, and the happy couple was married that very night. Cheering and feasting and raucous celebration filled the streets across the kingdoms. There were even fireworks and bonfires (you’ve apparently got to have fireworks and bonfires for any kind of real celebration) lighting up the night in showers of red, gold, and green.
Unfortunately, this all alerted the very bitter and very vengeful Aigruchonne. Her coming in her ebony chariot drawn by winged cats blotted out the fiery stars bursting in the sky. Likewise, her furious presence put a damper on the joyous feasting going on below. The cruel, ugly fairy was enraged to see so many happy crowds celebrating in the streets. So much so, in fact, that her shadowy chariot was lit with liminal flames of red and purple. As her rage mounted, the flames grew brighter and hotter. As she drew close enough to see the Prince and Princess escaped from her trap and happily married, the flames roared into a blinding inferno. Kraka-boom! The evil fairy literally exploded from her sour rage, drifting to the earth below as ash, rags, and a few scraps of fur. She got what was coming to her, but I feel bad for the poor kitties. They never did anything to deserve being exploded by a magical rage monster.
With the threat eliminated by a massive self-own, everyone in both kingdoms was able to live happily and cheerfully ever after. They no longer had to worry about drawing her ire for being too loud or visible about their joy. And as the two kingdoms had hoped all those years ago, the united Philidor and Irena also united the two kingdoms into one. Forever after, the couple would spend their anniversary trekking into the forest to visit the place where the little blue fox had stumbled across the imprisoned princess. When the couple had children of their own, Irena would often put them to bed with stories about a little blue fox who loved cherries. The story always ended the same way: “Blue fox beneath the wild cherry tree, pray have you come to marry me?”
Aside from the weird pushing of literal infants into adultified relationships, this is a sweet story. Sure, Svelta does the lion’s share of rectifying the situation, but Irena’s determination to win over a fox friend and Philidor’s quick thinking when told about the ring both helped. And so, with true love returned to its rightful place atop the throne, it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about the personalities and history of one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story. This week’s legendary place is Rocher Percé.
This story comes from the Salem State University’s translations of French-Canadian folktales, led by Dr. Elizabeth Blood (which is a fucking metal name). This particular story was translated by Sage Grant. It was taken from the oral tradition in 1905 in Almanach dy Peuple and centers around a very real rock formation called rocher perce – which means pierced rock – located off the tip of the Gaspe Peninsula on the Gulf of St. Lawrence in modern Quebec.
Long ago, back in the days when the fleur-de-lise flag of France flew over the bastions of Quebec, a young French officer was born into the upper crust nobility. He was stationed at Versailles, but due to the drumbeat of war, he was called on to leave his homeland and the comforts of the royal Court. The French colonizers in what had been named New France were fighting against the fierce indigenous Iroquois, who were understandably pissed about invaders trying to steal their homes. Our young officer had no time to lose. His orders left him only a few short days to get his affairs in order before he was to board the ship that would carry him across the sea to the untamed shores of the New World to fight a deadly foe.
Duty was the strongest guiding force in his life but in this situation, it was at war with a conflicting voice – the voice of love. This noble knight, one Raymond de Nerac, was truly, deeply in love with a young noblewoman who loved him back with equal fervor. She was as beautiful as a dream and as worthy of words of tribute as she was capable of inspiring them in the young men around her. Her wondrous nature made it all the more difficult for our heroic Raymond to say goodbye, but in the end, duty won out. There were many tearful goodbyes and oaths of endless fidelity exchanged between the young couple. The one balm to this ache was the hope of a short commission overseas followed by a swift return.
The French army never quite managed to achieve that swift, crushing victory they hoped for. It turns out that the Iroquois were more clever and more dangerous than any in France had assumed (that’s what happens when you’re fighting to defend your home from an invader), and several years passed with Raymound de Nerac still fighting the fight in New France.
Worse, it turned out that it wasn’t just the endless drag of the war keeping our young lover stuck an ocean away from his lady-love. It turns out that he’d had a rival for the young woman’s affections. This rival was cruel and cowardly, so he hadn’t made a move to express his own feelings while Raymond de Nerac was in France. The lady’s love for her dashing soldier was simply too strong to tear her affections away – that is, unless he were sent away and kept away. This callous young noble had influence with the royal officers in charge of the war in New France, and he used that to make sure that Raymond stayed away, hoping that absence would lessen the bonds of love between the young lady and the absent Raymond.
Alas for him, time and distance can only extinguish that love which is weak and feeble. The love between our young couple burned hot and passionate, and the long absence only strengthened their love like a sword tempered in the flames of the forge. They stayed in touch with lengthy letters expressing their continuing adoration and so in time, it was decided that the lady love, one Blanche de Beaumont, should travel across the ocean to join her fiance in the wilds of the new world. They could finally be wed in the heart of New France.
That June, Blanche made the treacherous journey with her uncle, her gaze cast longingly into the west to where her beloved Raymond waited. Her uncle had received permission from the King to trade furs with the colonies to help establish this new noble family in this New France. Her parents and her friends shed many bitter tears at her departure away from the capital of the world out to the wilderness, but when the day came, they bid the travelers bon voyage. They watched Blanche waving her handkerchief without so much as a tremble in her hand as the ship vanished over the horizon.
Blanche’s thoughts were all on her happy reunion with her beloved, but there were many dangers on the open ocean. It wasn’t long before she encountered one of the worst: a ship appeared on the horizon, the flag flying from its mast marking it clearly as either a pirate or an English privateer (which was the same thing as far as the passengers on the French ship were concerned). The passenger ship was not well-suited for battle – it was fat and slow, built to weather the storm-tossed waves of the open ocean. The pirates caught up without effort, cannons blasting a barrage that the passenger vessel couldn’t answer. Two blasts of a cannon took out the masts of the French ship, rendering it unable to even attempt to flee. Ropes and planks were thrown across, binding the ships together as ship-to-ship fighting broke out. The French fought desperately, knowing they were fighting for their very lives. Corsairs leapt into the fray under a hail of cannonballs, musket shots, and grenades. With pistols in their hands and knives in their teeth, they swarmed onto the French ship.
The French soldiers fought the invading corsairs off three times, but each time the enemy drove deeper into the bridge and living quarters before being turned back. Once they had pulled back for the third time, the pirate captain ordered his men to pull back and seal the hatch and bridges, trapping the French defenders on open ship. They would no longer have the ability to pull back to safety or harry the pirates from defensive positions. There were only two choices now – victory or death. Their bloodlust was up now, so the pirates charged a final time. The French saw their own deaths in the pirates’ eyes and resolved to meet it with honor. Better a glorious death in service to the French flag than to be taken alive by the cruel, rapacious pirates.
Blanche de Beaumont was no soldier, but she was also no wilting flower. She moved amongst the wounded and the dying, giving what medical treatment the ship had to offer and what comfort her soul could offer when medicine failed. Her feet were soaked in the blood of friend and foe, her dress stained with the last breaths of countless French soldiers who she held as they stopped shaking, reminding them of the reward that was waiting for them beyond life. Hardest for her was watching the last breath of her beloved uncle, who had suffered a mortal wound to the chest in his defense of her and the other passengers. Her vision blurry with the tears she wept at his passing, Blanche closed the eyes of the ship’s captain whose skull had been blown apart by a musket ball, spattering his brains all over her.
Once the last of the defenders was dead, the ship was forced to surrender. Everything still on board became loot for the greedy pirates, including our dear Blanche. She was considered too beautiful to simply be put to death for the crime of being French, so the pirate captain claimed her as his own private sex slave. Blanch used every wile at her disposal to try and soften the resolve of this cold-hearted bastard of a pirate captain, but it was no use. “I care not for your shorebound life, those lost hopes and dreams. You shall be with me upon the sea, and you shall be my wife.” Blanche was horrified at this. “I cannot marry you, monsieur. I am already engaged to the love of my life, Raymond de Nerac, Knight of the Order of Saint-Louis and captain of the French regiment. I have sworn a sacred vow with him and will not marry anyone but him, not ever.”
The pirate captain laughed uproariously at this. “And where does this fancy soldier boy of yours live, my little whore?” “In New France, where honor and duty have commanded him to be. I was sailing across the ocean to be with him when your ship interrupted me.” That sent a cruel, diabolical idea percolating through the vile pirate’s brain. Since this little tart was emboldened by the imagined love of this fancy pants officer, he would sail his ship out to New France and find this Raymond. His men would capture that asshole and then, with Blanche tied up on the ship to watch, the pirate captain would torture Raymond to death. He would ruin any noble image she had of her young love and replace it with one of a broken man covered in his own blood, shit, and entrails begging for death, for Blanche’s death, anything to make the pain stop. They would break together, and then she wouldn’t care what the pirates did to her.
Blanche was kept confined to a cabin constantly under guard as they completed the passage to New France. One day, the door was unexpectedly opened and the young woman was allowed to walk the deck and breathe the open air. It was all very suspicious but anything was worth the risk of a little freedom, if only for a moment. She was stunned to see that the open ocean she had last seen was gone, replaced with a breathtaking landscape covered in lush forests and luxurious vegetation. She was led to the pirate captain, who greeted her with a sweeping, mocking bow. “New France, my lady. As you wished.” His cruel smile told her clearly that she would never be setting foot on its soil.
She had learned enough of these pirates during the weeks of her captivity, and she could well imagine the horrors that awaited her. Worse, she could now understand why the evil pirate captain had been so interested in details of her fiance. Blanche burst into tears, but determination burned in her heart. She would never allow these terrible bastards to use her to hurt her beloved Raymond. This was the only time in weeks she had been out of her cabin cell, and she took advantage of it. Kicking the knees of the pirate holding her, she broke free and hurled herself over the gunwale and into the heaving sea. Her heavy dress dragged her beneath the raging waves almost immediately, defeating all attempts by the pirates to try and fish her back out. Blanche de Beaumont was dead, but she was free.
A somber mood fell upon the crew at the woman’s death. A few of the more superstitious sailors said that this was an ill omen – the crew had lost their good fairy and with it, their good luck. A strange feeling of foreboding swept across the ship. Even the captain felt it. He was already regretting the death of the young woman, but he hid his discomfort behind an endless string of foul, blistering curses.
The day after Blanche de Beaumont’s death, the ship was suddenly struck by a powerful wind that swept up out of nowhere. It was driven across the waves towards a rock jutting up out of the sea off the coast of Perce. The crew was stupified by the sight of the jagged rock bearing down on them and even more so by the captain’s orders to approach the rock as closely as possible. All eyes were locked on the rock as it neared, towering over the ship. That’s why everyone on board saw it when, at the very top of the tallest rock, appeared the ghost of Blanche de Beaumont. Their former captive and victim was now looming over them with an expression of terrible vengeance on her cold but lovely face. Her hands raised in what was clearly a curse as she shattered the silence with an eerie wail. Every living throat joined in, screaming their terror to the skies. Phantom Blanche’s hands dropped and the curse broke over the ship. At that moment, the screams died abruptly away as the ship and all of its crew were turned to rock, joined with that of the twisted spire.
This strange rock formation still has the appearance of a ship with filled sails, forever floating heavy at the entrance of the river near Cap des Rosiers. It is known as the Phantom Vessel or the Shipwrecked Vessel. Of course, little by little, the rocky ship eroded away beneath the force of the waves. It crumbled away piece by piece, but enough remains to mark the place and still make out the basic shape of the transformed ship, and the story passed into legend. And thus was Blanche de Beaumont avenged. Alas, the legend is silent as to what happened when news of the loss of Blanche’s ship to pirates finally reached our dear Raymond de Nerac.
Honestly, we don’t even know if word ever did reach him, or if he just spent months waiting for her arrival with his anxiety growing day by day and his certainty that something terrible had happened growing along with it. What we do know is that a few months after Blanche’s sacrifice, the handsome knight de Nerac died in a battle with the Iroquois, finally reuniting the lovers in death. To this day, it is said that when the fog rolls over the sea and surrounds Rocher Perce, you can see the ghostly outline of the ship that once was and, sometimes, even see the two lovers walking arm in arm as they make sure that the cursed pirate ship is still entombed in rock.
That’s it for this episode of Myths Your Teacher Hated. Keep up with new episodes on our Facebook page, on iTunes, on TuneIn, on Vurbl, and on Spotify, or you can follow us on Instagram as MythsYourTeacherHatedPod, on Tumblr as MythsYourTeacherHated, and on Bluesky as MythsPodcast. You can also find news and episodes on our website at myths your teacher hated dot com. If you have any questions, any gods or monsters you’d want to learn about, or any ideas for future stories that you’d like to hear, feel free to drop me a line. I’m trying to pull as much material from as many different cultures as possible, but there are all sorts of stories I’ve never heard, so suggestions are appreciated. The theme music is by Tiny Cheese Puff.
I recently guested on an episode of the fantastic horror pop culture podcast Earth Station Boo to talk about vampires. We covered their mythological origins (including a number of the creatures covered here on MYTH over the years) as well as some of our favorite vampire books and movies. It’s an incredible show, which I highly recommend checking out.
Next time, we’re dipping back into the 1001 Nights to catch up to the ever-crafty Sinbad the Sailor. You’ll see that ending up in a cannibal’s home is always a bad time, that you can’t escape an anaconda by climbing a tree, and that adventure totally changes a man (or at least his appearance). Then, in Gods and Monsters, we’ll try to learn wisdom from a bird older than three universes combined. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.