Episode 173 – Holding Out for a Hero – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 173 Show Notes

Source: Latvian Mythology

This week on MYTH, it’s time for another exciting chapter from the chronicles of Lacplesis the Bearslayer. You’ll learn that you should never trust a Crusader, that lords are easy to bribe, and that sometimes evil gets the last laugh. Then, in Gods and Monsters, a young man will be gifted magical music by a ghost. 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 173, “Holding Out for a Hero”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
When we last left our hero (back in Episode 157), a council of the gods had been called at the castle of Perkons, god of thunder. The fire and blood of the Crusades of the 13th Century are headed straight for the doomed heart of the Baltics, sure to crush the steadfast and worthy people who lived there and worshiped the gods of the council. The water nymph Staburadze, who lives in a crystal palace beneath the mighty Daugava river, comes forward at the end to tell the story of a handsome young man that she had saved from some witches. She’d like to keep him, but Perkons tells her that he is fated to be a hero so she can only keep him long enough to get him healthy. We then flashed back to the young man’s origin story, where he rips a bear in half to save his father, only to learn that the old lord is actually his adopted father. He had been given care of the boy as an infant by the gods themselves (after having been abandoned by his unknown real parents and fed on she-bear breast milk as an infant).
Back in the present-ish, Bear-Slayer is heading for the magical hero school run by his dad’s old buddy Burtnieks but stops off at the home of Aizkrauklis and his wicked daughter Spindala. Lacplesis is stunned by her incredible beauty but a bit put off when he discovers that she’s a literal demon-worshiping witch. He manages to hitch a ride down into the Devil pit as she goes to meet the aforementioned Devil. The whole gang is busy corrupting famed holy-man Kangars into abandoning the gods and pushing the false religion of Christianity instead. Lacplesis is caught and dumped in the whirlpool, thus bringing us back to where the whole story actually began. Now healthy, Lacplesis sets out for hero school again, but not before meeting the beautiful Laimdota who studies under Staburadze and both give the young hero talismans. He encounters another heroic young man named Koknesis and they promptly become bestest friends as both enroll in Burtnieks’ hero school.
The now-villainous Kangars provokes the neighboring Estonians into going to war with the Latvians, prompting Lacplesis and Koknesis to ride out to do battle with their great champion, the giant Kalapuisis. Bearslayer fights the giant to a draw, and the two become sword buddies and fight together against the real foe, the invading Germans crusaders led by the priest Dietrich.
Lacplesis and Laimdota get engaged, hooray. While wedding preparations are happening, Bearslayer stumbles across a second castle hidden beneath the lake. His fiance informs him that a curse has been laid upon it that can only be broken by a hero spending the night there and fighting the monsters haunting it. Naturally, our hero does exactly that, defeating the demons and his old foe Spindala, raising the sunken castle and giving us a history lesson including the foundation and destruction of the fortress, the creation of the cosmos, and the rebellion of the Devil against the gods until being driven into hell by Perkons.
This took us up to the festival of All Soul’s Eve, a traditional Latvian celebration where the souls of the dead return to eat food left out by their living relatives. Everyone parties well into the night before all going to bed after midnight. In the morning, they discover that Laimdota and Koknesis have vanished. Bearslayer vows to find them himself and immediately sets out in pursuit.
Naturally, we’re not going to follow Lacplesis as he sets out on the trail. Instead, we’re shifting over to Turaida, a brick Gothic castle in the Vidzeme region of Latvia. Inside said castle, three men were talking: Kangars, the former holy man who had been corrupted by the witch Spindala and the literal Devil, Dietrich, a German priest and leader of the invading Crusaders, and Kaupa, a local lord that we haven’t met before. The first two and definitely villainous men were in the process of convincing the formerly loyal Kaupa to betray his gods and his people for the glory of Rome. Dietrich spoke evocatively of the glory of the German people, their heroes, culture, knighthood and, most importantly, their Christian faith. His voice rang with conviction as he extolled the virtue of the Catholic church and its mission to spread itself to every corner of the earth.
Their request for Kaupa was simple but insidious: allow the German merchants, who had come across the sea with Dietrich and his knights, to build a small town at the mouth of the river in Kaupa’s lands. They would naturally provide a trade corridor between their homeland and the Latvians with Kaupa as one of the main beneficiaries. All that foreign gold would flow through his lands and naturally, some of it would stick in his coffers along the way. To sweeten the pot, Dietrich produced a letter from the Pope himself sent personally to the great and honorable Kaupa. Amongst many flowery greetings and overblown flattery, the Holy Father requested Kaupa visit him in Rome to be properly feasted and honored as befitting such a great man who was doing such a great thing for the Catholic church. The Latvian lord was willing to be convinced. Rome sounded incredible, and who wouldn’t want to be hosted for a banquet in his honor by one of the most powerful people in the world?
Kaupa agreed to allow the German city to be built and resolved to set out for the Eternal City the very next day with Dietrich as his guide. Kangars, who knows good and well that all of this is a ploy for the Germans to get a foothold in the country, smiles on cruelly. From there, the invading knights will conquer Latvia and overthrow their gods in the name of their own Christian god. And, having been corrupted by the Devil as we saw previously, he’s totally cool with this plan.
Thus it was that, shortly after All Souls’ Eve, a German ship swayed gently on the waves as it made ready to head out to sea with Dietrich and Kaupa aboard. The crowd that had gathered to watch them go cheered a merry farewell to their departing lord and his new friend. From the tallest deck of the towering ship, Kaupa addressed his people. “My countrymen, these fine visitors have told me wonders of their homeland and of the vast wealth that flowers there. I go now to strengthen our bonds of friendship and trade, which shall prove prosperous for all of us. They are going to build a castle at the mouth of this great river, a place for this wealth to flow from their lands into ours and for our goods to return back to their lands. You will all thrive and see greater riches than you ever dreamed, thanks to these trustworthy Christians! As my final words to you all as I depart, live in friendship with these kind strangers and make them feel at home here in our home.” The people cheered these words, crying out ‘long live Kaupa and long live the strangers!’
From beyond the crowd, Kangars watched this all unfold impassively with Spindala at his side. They both knew good and well just what sort of friendship these invading crusaders intended, but both had turned against their own people and joined with the enemy. You know who was still a righteous and true son of Latvia though? Our old friend Lacplesis, who arrived on the scene just as Kaupa finished his speech. With impeccable cinematic timing, Bearslayer kneed his weary horse through the crowd, which parted for him as he called out “Bearslayer, who brought the giant Kalapuisis low in single combat, has arrived!” He had tracked his missing fiance and best friend all the way here and had spotted the two villains in the crowd.
Leaping off his horse, Lacplesis strode toward the false holy man, one hand on his sword in a white-knuckle grip. “Traitor! What have you done with Laimdota? I know that you and that vile witch beside you are behind her disappearance. Speak! Tell me where she is or your bones will shatter beneath my blade.” He doesn’t mention Koknesis, which is a little rude. I get being more worried about your missing fiance than your epic hero brother in arms, but it would be polite to worry about him at least a little.
Before Kangars could answer, Spindala let out a cruel laugh, one hand raised towards the ship as it vanished below the horizon. “No need for threats, you dim-witted ass. Your beloved Laimdota is there, headed for distant Germany as their ‘guest’. You’re too late, Lacplesis!” Roaring his rage, he took a violent step towards the pair, baring an inch of steel as he did so. “You dare to kidnap my beloved fiance? The people will not stand for such wickedness, especially not when they hear the full scope of your vile deeds! I know about your evil magic, witch. I know how you have corrupted Kangars to evil and how the two of you plan to use your powers to betray Latvia to the Germans!”
The assembled crowd began to grumble at the hero’s words. His valiant deeds were well-known, so his accusations carried weight. Kangars might have had his will broken to the cause of evil, but his cunning was very much intact. He stepped up in front of Spindala, who was too busy gloating to do any damage control, and affected a wounded but forgiving posture. “Young hero, if your words were true, then I would wish for the wrath of the great god Perkons to blast forth from the heavens and smite me down. I do not blame you for your harsh words though, for I understand well the impulsiveness of youth. I have kidnapped no one, young hero, though I understand why you would prefer to believe that than the truth.
“Kaupa wished to visit the Germans in their homeland and then journey on to their holy city of Rome. He will be able to testify first hand to the great friendship that they offer our people as allies, not enemies. Koknesis had heard that our great lord wished to make this journey and was looking for several strapping young warriors to accompany him as an honor guard. He said that he wished to get the glory for once instead of being forced to take whatever scraps you left behind for him. Koknesis boarded that ship of his own free will, a volunteer.
“And Laimdota, I’m afraid she was never really yours, my son. She too has boarded that ship with her one true love, Koknesis. Yes, you heard me right, hero. I know that she always praised your deeds and spoke the right words, but that was only because of the friendship between your fathers. Her heart always belonged to your friend, but she was too tender and too kind to break your heart like that. The two of them thought that a clean break would be easier for you all, and so they took the opportunity to disappear from the castle together on All Souls’ Eve and sail away together to distant shores. I am truly sorry to have to be the one to break the news to you, my son, but if it’s any consolation, know that your beloved has finally found true happiness. Try to find it in your heart to forgive her, to forgive them both, and to wish blessings upon their union.”
Bearslayer stood rooted in place, utterly shocked by what he was hearing. If Perkons himself had come down from the heavens to do the cha-cha, it couldn’t have amazed the young hero any more. Pale and shaky, he glanced at the sword he had raised to strike Kangars’ head from his shoulders. He no longer had the strength for that blow, so he lowered it to his side and sheathed it once more. This betrayal from his beloved and his best friend cut deeper than any blade ever could. Jealousy flayed his soul even as despair consumed his heart. Could they really have lied to him all this time? Could they have been sneaking around behind his back, meeting in the moonlight for secret trysts? It seemed inconceivable, but he couldn’t stop doubt from creeping in.
His shoulders slumped dejectedly. Lacplesis realized that, regardless of whether the false holy man’s words were true or not, there was little that could be solved with mighty thews at this point. The ship had literally sailed on any potential rescue. Without Laimdota and Koknesis to testify to their kidnapping, it was his word against theirs since he had no hard proof of anything, only suspicions. “I don’t believe a word that falls from your forked tongue, you liar, but it seems that there is little I can do about it now. I will stay my wrath until word comes back from Germany, but if I ever find out that you’ve lied to me, there will be hell to pay.”
Swinging back up onto his horse, Bearslayer rode back the way he had come, leaving the two villains behind to bask in their triumph. Spindala in particular revelled in his misery. She had vowed to ruin his life for his rejection of her back in Episode 67, and now, at last, she had succeeded. She cackled with devilish glee at her unparalleled success in destroying her rival’s very soul with her plotting. Her cruel delight echoed in his ears long after he had left that port behind.
Deeply depressed, Lacplesis wandered the lonely road back to Lielvarde and his foster father Lielvardis. The old man was initially overjoyed to see his son’s unmistakable form coming over the hills towards the castle, but his joy turned sour at the obvious sorrow weighing heavily on the young man’s shoulders. Ushering the returning hero inside, Lielvardis sat Lacplesis down and asked what had happened. It was a long and twisting tale, though the young hero did not know all of the pieces that you and I have been privy to so far. When it finally wound to its unhappy conclusion, the old man comforted his son as best he could. “Do not despair, Lacplesis. Do not lose hope. Fate moves in mysterious ways and I trust in your judgment. Despite appearances, I think that maybe fair Laimdota’s love for you is undimmed and unchanged. If these cruel charges prove true, then you have been saved from a worse fate. And if not, then I know that you will have your chance to make those behind those lies pay.”
Heartened by his father’s practical advice, Bearslayer sent a messenger to Burtniek’s castle with all he had learned about Laimdota’s fate. He couldn’t bring himself to go there himself, not yet. He needed to spend some time at home, licking his wounds. His despair had eased slightly, but he was still overcome with grief at losing his beloved and his best friend in one fell swoop, regardless of how it had occurred. He spent many a sorrowful day walking along the banks of the Daugava river, watching the white-capped waves crash against the cliffs, raging at the cruel turns of fate.
Gripped by depression, Lacplesis longed to roll with those waves down to the sea, to wander wild and free, to do battle with the icy blasts of the North Wind. Perhaps he would make his way out to where the North Wind’s daughter dwelt beneath the aurora borealis. He could live there, unburdened by his cares and responsibilities. At the very least, the chill would cool his fevered brow. Obviously that was all an impossible dream, but the wanderlust it stirred was very real. He couldn’t bear to be a guest in Lielvarde any longer and so, without telling anyone where he was going, Bearslayer set out for lands unknown. It was a balm to his soul to be unseen and unknown for a time, but the world would surely miss his absence.
Time passed and after a long but uneventful journey, the German ship reached shore and the procession made its way to Rome. It was here, in St. Peter’s Basilica, that the Pope had declared the lands of the Baltics to be Holy land and called for knights to set out on Crusade to recover it from the heathens living there. A group of mercenaries answered the call. They cared less about holy duties and more about plundering goods and stealing castles to call their own. These warriors were absolved in advance of any sins they might commit on this Holy Crusade and set out to conquer. Dietrich had set out with them and now returned with Kaupa in tow. They were given the Papal Father’s blessings and permitted to kiss his slippered feet, supposedly a great honor.
As a sign of the promised favor that had brought him all the way here, Kaupa was permitted to meet with the Pope directly to discuss the future of the Baltics. The old man asked the Latvian lord if his people were prepared to accept the truth of Christendom and to rejoin the Church’s fold both on earth and in the eternal paradise after death. Kaupa was dazzled by the incredible displays of wealth and power (and having been to Vatican City myself, I can totally understand the feeling). With a deep bow, Kaupa vowed to persuade his people to accept the Catholic yoke and bend the knee before the Pope.
As he did so, the Pope placed a glittering knight’s crown adorned with seven stars upon his head. The newest convert to the Catholic faith was also showered with fine gifts and was raised up as a favored son of the church before the assembled knights and bishops. He was now one of the mighty knights of Rome, charged with returning to his homeland and convert it to the church’s truth, by flame and by sword if necessary. And as we know from the very real history of the Crusades, it was pretty much always deemed necessary. The youths that had come along with their lord were sent to the Roman monasteries to learn the ways of the church and swear the vows of holy monks. The story specifically calls out one man by the name of Henry, who is almost certainly meant to be Henry of Latvia, a priest who would later write the history of the evangelization of Estonia and Latvia during the Northern Crusades. You know, the ones that are just about to kick off.
More time passes, and spring comes to Latvia again, and the gods clothed the world in a blanket of green grass and a riot of flowers. The invading strangers gave no shits about the old gods or their creations though. They were focused on their own goals – taking a life of ease for themselves at the bloody end of a sword. The knights longed to spend their days drinking and jousting as they boasted of glory won while the conquered people toiled in the lands that had once been theirs to support their new masters.
On the banks of the mighty Daugava river, many such men toiled away to build the new fortified city, complete with its Catholic church safe within the newly towering walls. This city was soon named Riga, which is now the capital of Latvia, and it was ruled from the church’s pulpit by Bishop Albert. From his new stronghold, this prideful man of the cloth sent out his army of priests to preach the word of their god and convince the locals to convert over. Of course, the heavily armed and armored knights sent as backup to loom menacingly did a lot to convince people that resistance was futile. They taught of how Jesus had called on people to love their neighbors and take care of the poor while also plundering everything that wasn’t nailed down and murdering anyone who looked at them sideways.
The bloody march of the hypocritical strangers cast a deathly pall over the banks of the Daugava. It was becoming abundantly clear that their earlier promises of alliance and friendship had been lies. They had come as conquerors and fear was growing that they would take everything in their path with no one able to stop their advance. With Riga built and fortified, more foreign ships came, each bearing more Germans to spread out into Latvian lands and claim them as the strangers’ own. The name of that city became a curse among the locals, who despised their lord Kaupa for selling them into chains so easily. They cried out against the desecration of their land by the poison spreading from Riga in what has been recorded as poetry.
To quote “Oh, Riga, much have you poured out our brothers’ blood! Oh, Riga, much have, too, caused bitter tears to flood! Oh, Riga, much you spurned, laid waste the fields of grain! Oh, Riga, much you burned – scarce homes and barns remain! Oh, Riga, you have seized, like wolves, our humble food! Oh, Riga, you have pleased to swill the beer we brewed! Oh, Riga, you have torn our plundered things away! Oh, Riga, you have sworn with freedom we will pay! Oh, Riga, can you find, yet things that we hold dear? Oh Riga, what behind, is left for looting here?”
The people are crying out for someone to come and save them from these invaders, to break the chains that bind them, but so far none is forthcoming. Koknesis is away in Germany and Lacplesis is wandering the wilderness, alone and bereft. And what of Laimdota? Could Kangars have been telling the truth about her faithlessness? Had she and Koknesis fled together in the night as young lovers? These answers will have to wait until next time, which means it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story. This week’s magical macguffins are the wonderful pipes.
This tale comes from Blue and Green Wonders and Other Latvian Tales, collected by Edward Huggins in 1971. Once upon a time, there lived a little orphan boy. He walked alone to the graveyard each day to weep over the grave of his parents who had died only a week apart, leaving him with no one to take care of him. He wept so often and so bitterly, in fact, that one day the boy’s mother rose out of her grave to try and comfort him. Her grand ghostly idea was a set of reed pipes. To be fair, a ghost is probably pretty limited on gift options. Given the incredibly supernatural way that they’re coming into existence, it should come as no surprise that these pipes are, in fact, magical. “Hush, my little one. Don’t cry. We may be gone, but we have not forgotten you and we do not love you any less. Take these magic pipes and make use of their wonders. The first pipe will dry your tears. The second will bring you merry laughter. The third will lead you into light-hearted dancing.”
The little boy, whose heart had been wrung dry with grief, gratefully took up the pipes and immediately blew the first one. The music it made was so lovely and so sweet that his tears stopped flowing the very instant it reached his ears, like dew evaporating in the spring sunshine. Already feeling better, he blew on the second pipe. This tune was every bit as lovely as the first, but merry instead of sweet, lilting and trilling in a way that almost sounded like musical laughter. It filled his heart with glee and he couldn’t help but throw his head back and join with his own belly laughs. It was the first joy he had felt since his parents had died and it lifted a massive weight off his shoulders. Feeling quite happy now, he blew on the third pipe, which produced an enchanting melody with a driving beat. His feet couldn’t help but shuffle in time with it and soon he was leaping and dancing around the graveyard to the pipe’s lilting tune.
Birds and other small critters came out of the trees and bushes to dance with him. The magic of the pipes called even to the very rocks and trees, and they swayed and thumped in time with the dancing song. This whole thing is giving Orpheus from back in Episode 68, but hopefully this one will end happier. The little boy was certainly happy enough for the moment and, from then on, he was never lonely or sad for long. Any time melancholy tugged at his heart for too long, he pulled out his pipe and played his cares away, his magical song drawing all those around him to join in the merriment.
One day, he led his cows out to the pasture, which was the last thing that needed doing on his farm for the moment. Unfortunately, said cows had eaten too much hay in the barn before lying down to sleep and had no interest in moving anywhere. “Well that’s a problem. I need them to go out to pasture and eat today before I drive them home or they’ll just be hungry tonight.” He thought about how to solve this dilemma for like half a second before reaching for the tool he used to solve many of his problems – his magical pipes. Breathing deep, he blew a merry melody on the third pipe that sounded like the jingle jangling of cowbells. It roused the sleepy cows and led them to hop and prance in time to the song, following the young man along the road towards the pasture.
As it so happened, the king was very coincidentally riding along that very stretch of road at that very moment. It’s so unlikely and coincidental, in fact, that I have to wonder if some quirk of the magic has twisted fate just a bit. Regardless, the king stopped to watch this incredibly unusual but undeniably joyful group as they danced together. “What the actual fuck? What kind of cows dance? They’ve got some smooth mooooves.” I don’t even feel bad about that pun.
The king kneed his horse closer so that he could get a better look. As he did so, the music caught the horse in its spell. To everyone’s surprise, it reared up on its back hooves and danced on two legs, whinnying merrily all the while. Even more surprisingly, the wheezened old king found his aching legs stomping in time to the beat. With a whoop of joy, he hopped up onto the saddle and danced a jig right there on his prancing pony’s back. It was a merry scene but one that, even with the assistance of magic, the old man surely wouldn’t be able to keep up for long before something gave out. Thus the young man let his music wind down to a finish so that everyone could stop dancing.
The king huffed and puffed a bit, but he was still smiling from ear to ear. “My boy, wherever did you get such incredible pipes?” Bowing to the monarch, the young man told him the entire story we’ve just heard. He’d experienced the power of the third pipe firsthand, so the king asked the young man to play the first one. The song was soft and sweet, echoing a time long gone by when the king was young and strong and he could do anything he set his mind to. “Truly wondrous, lad. Can you do the second one as well?” The young man obliged. And for the first time in a long time, the king laughed loud and long the way he used to long ago with the farm folk, knights, and squires. Before the years and cares had piled up upon his shoulders.
Seeing the king’s happiness, the young man put his lips to the third pipe to blow another dancing tune, but the old man held up a hand. “No no, that’s enough, thank you. I don’t think my old bones could handle much more of your lively dancing. But I like your style, kid. Come with me to my castle. I have a proposition for you.” And so the young man followed the king into the capital where the castle stood (no word on what happened to the dancing cows). There, they had a conversation that they absolutely could have had on the road without the need of a set change, but whatever.
The king brought the young man into his audience chamber and gazed soulfully out the window (maybe the king just needed his soulful staring window). “Two weeks ago, a neighboring King stole my daughter away. I gathered my forces and rode out to rescue her a week ago, but we were defeated and routed. Turns out that our neighbors have a much, much larger army. I guess people don’t usually antagonize a neighboring kingdom whose ass they can’t kick, but it was still awful to be so helpless. I could do nothing to save my daughter, but I think that maybe you can. Your magic pipes may prove more useful than every sword and soldier in my barracks. Will you journey to that terrible place and use your pipes to make that wicked king dance his feet bloody until he agrees to return my kidnapped daughter?” The young man wasn’t entirely sure how confident he felt in a solo rescue mission, but he was a kind-hearted soul and he couldn’t stand the thought of the princess being stolen away like that. “I’ll try,” he promised.
The kingdom provided provisions and the young man set out almost immediately. It took him three days to make the journey to the neighboring kingdom’s capital. This king apparently also had a favorite window to look out as he brooded and he was doing so now. To really drive home the point that this is an evil man, the story tells us that the king is short and ugly, like a gnome. He had a long, tangled beard that was trying and failing to cover a massive protruding belly. This isn’t the stoutness of a powerlifter, he is soft and flabby and nearly bursting out of his britches at the seams. As we all know, fat, short, and/or ugly people are all villains while conventionally attractive people are always heroes who can be trusted implicitly.
Anyways, obvious bias and bigotry aside, this actually was a very bad man, what with the kidnapping and all. He was very clearly guilty of this crime as said princess was sitting at another window, this one high in a tower, weeping pitiably. The young man hated to see her so miserable, so he pulled out his pipes and blew the first one. The tune was sweet and gentle, which caused the sour old king to pucker his mouth in distaste, but it quieted the princess’ sobs. When her tears were dry, he blew the second pipe. The cruel king immediately began to cackle, squealing and roaring with glee as his belly shook like a bowl full of rancid jelly. He laughed until it hurt, until his joints ached and his lungs burned with the effort of it.
The princess was still far too anxious and depressed to feel like laughing, tears or no, but laugh she did all the same. She felt confused and ashamed at this, not understanding why she was laughing when she was sure she’d never see home again, so she covered her mouth and fled to the castle garden. The young man winced at this unexpected collateral damage, but it was probably for the best. She was now out of earshot for the finale. He blew on the third pipe, drawing forth a driving martial tune. The king immediately leapt to his feet and began hopping and prancing about. He clapped and stomped, tripping often over his tangled beard but unable to stop and do anything about the situation.
His feet kept dancing, but the king was exhausted and terrified. He screamed in fear, begging for his torment to stop. The young man paused his playing. “I can make it stop, cruel king, but only if you free the princess you have kidnapped.” The king snarled, though his ragged wheezing ruined the effect somewhat. “I will [puff puff] never ever [puff puff] do that!” The boy shrugged. “Then I hope you’re ready to dance, asshole.” And he blew with more vigour than ever. The horrified king found himself dancing wildly about his castle, sliding down banisters and spinning on his bald head. It was agony and he was sure that he would soon dance himself to death. He begged and begged and begged for the boy to stop, for the guards to seize him, for anything to end this, but the magic was too powerful. The boy kept playing and the king kept dancing.
This continued on for what felt like forever but was probably only a few minutes. The king’s feet, unused to walking, were raw and bloody. His pulse pounded in his temples and his chest ached in a decidedly concerning way. He was, by this point, bouncing and grinding on his ass in a most undignified way and he could finally take no more. “Alright, fuck you! I’ll do it! I promise! Take the princess and get out of my castle!” The young man hurried to comply, explaining quickly who he was and why he had come before leading her back towards home.
No sooner were they out of sight (and more importantly, out of earshot) than the king ordered his army to assemble and give chase. Foot soldiers marched out of the castle gate in orderly rows with the exhausted king riding behind them. It hurt like hell, but his pride hurt more. He wanted to kill that magical little fucker himself and take those pipes as his own. The soldiers, who hadn’t just spent three days on the road before playing a magical concerto, were quicker than the young man and the princess and they began to catch up. It was clear that the army, their swords and axes and spears glinting with cruel promise in the sun, would catch them long before they reached safety. The princess began to tremble with fear. She didn’t want to think about what terrible things the evil king had in store for them once that happened.
The young man noticed her trembling and smiled encouragingly. “Don’t worry, your highness. I’ve got this under control. Let them come, and you will see them dance.” And he again blew on the third pipe. The army stopped in midstride as the music took hold. You would think that the king would have at least tried to prepare them for this, having just experienced the power of this magical compulsion first-hand (maybe stopping their ears with wax like old Odysseus), but no. In his arrogance and fury, he just charged into the same damned trap a second time. The soldiers began to shake their asses, tossing their weapons aside to join hands and dance together. It was wild and chaotic like the music from the pipes, and the men in their heavy armor struggled to keep up with the demands of the beat. One man missed a step and stumbled, and the rest of the soldiers went down like dominoes, collapsed into an exhausted but still grooving heap.
As for the king, he was once more subject to the magical music. Like the kindly king, he too climbed up onto his saddle and danced on his prancing horse. This cruel king was in far worse shape though, and he soon fell off and landed with a sickening crunch in the dust. Before he could do more than groan in agony, the exhausted horse sat down on the king’s head. His last sight was sweaty horse ass before his head was crushed under the weight of the beast. The princess too had been caught up in the dancing and had taken the young man in her arms, still playing as they twirled beautifully together. And that was enough for the army. Without their cruel king to order them on, they lost all interest in this pursuit, allowing the young man and the princess to escape unscathed.
Three more days saw the two of them once more to the princess’ home where her father was waiting. He whooped with joy as he saw the pair of them returning, rushing out to sweep his daughter into a great hug. He kissed her, weeping with joy, and danced around and around with the young man. No magical pipes were necessary this time. In thanks for his heroic deeds, the king adopted the young man as his heir, betrothing him to his daughter (who doesn’t appear to have been consulted in the matter but could probably do a lot worse). And they lived happily ever after. Not sure about the neighboring kingdom. With their wicked monarch dead, maybe it descended into vicious civil war? Whatever, not important.
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.
Next time, we’re journeying to Korea to meet a grumpy bullfrog who doesn’t seem to understand fishing rights. You’ll discover that money can buy happiness but not morals, that it pays to make deals with wildlife, and that father doesn’t always know best. Then, in Gods and Monsters, Father Mole will decide that his daughter should only marry the greatest thing in the universe. Surely that can only go well. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.