Episode 59 – Bear Slayer – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 59 Show Notes

Source: Latvian Mythology

This week on MYTH, we’re going to meet the best Latvian folk hero you’ve never heard of. You’ll learn that matching chariot to god is super easy, that even gods aren’t all powerful, and that you can find the weirdest stuff in wood. Then, in Gods and Monsters, you’ll see what happens when you mix Hades with Satan. 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 59, “Bear Slayer”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
I was recently asked if I had ever heard of the Latvian Hercules. I had not, so naturally, I was intrigued. I was then given a brief introduction to this incredibly fascinating character from Latvian folklore, and immediately decided that he was not nearly as well-known outside of Latvia as he should be and that he was going to appear on this show as soon as possible. I am almost certainly going to butcher these names even worse than I usually do, as I speak zero Latvian, but I’m going to soldier on and do my best with apologies up front. So come along with me as I go fuck this shit up.
Lacplesis, whose name literally translates to ‘bear-slayer’ or ‘bear-ripper’, is a legendary hero from Latvian folklore. His story was written down in an epic poem in the late 19th Century by Andrejs Pumpurs, and it soon became a national epic, with streets, shops, and beers bearing his name to this day. The full story is long, in true epic poem style, but the adventures are fairly episodic (though with a definite through-line narrative), so we’re just going to cover the first and part of the second Canto of the poem this time. Don’t worry, we’ll be heading back to Latvia in the near future to follow the epic journeys of Lacplesis.
Our story begins at the turn of the 13th Century in Latvia, right at the beginning of the Northern Crusades wherein Catholic Crusaders invaded pagan Baltic areas to try and bring Christianity to the region at the point of a bloody sword. The invading Germanic knights, under the command of Bishop Albert, were cutting a huge swath of destruction through the countryside, and the future of the Latvian people was in doubt. Even the gods themselves were afraid for their people, and in response, Liktena Tevs, the Father of Destiny, had called for a council of the gods to discuss their own fate and the fate of the mortals under their protection.
The gods gather together in the heavenly palace of Perkons, God of Thunder. One by one, the gods arrive through the Rainbow Gate in chariots that reflect their natures. Patrimps, God of Plenty and the Harvest, is first, his steed the golden hue of fresh honey pulling a chariot woven from ripe wheat. Next is Pakols, God of Death, in a chariot of human bones drawn by steeds of inky black. After him is Antrimps, God of the Sea, in a chariot of ocean reeds and iridescent shells drawn by scaled horses in all the blues and greens the ocean can provide. Next was Liga, Goddess of Music and Song. She pulled up into the courtyard in a chariot covered in flowers like a parade float drawn by horses whose hooves clop together in musical time. After her comes Puskatis, God of Trees, and his chariot and horse can pretty much just be a chariot and a horse since those are both already under his purview.
In rapid succession arrive Austra, Goddess of the Morning, Laima, Karta, and Dekla, the trinity of fate goddesses similar to the Norse Norns or the Greek Morai. Laima makes the final decisions on personal fate, and is associated with luck, mothers, and childbirth. Dekla rules over children, and Karta holds sway over adults. The three are sometimes all referred to as the three Laimas as they, much like Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos of the Greeks, are both three goddesses and one goddess, three aspects of the same fate. Tikla, Goddess of Virtue, arrived in a chariot arrayed with blooming roses, followed by the Daughters of the Sun, likely the goddesses of the visible planets in the night sky, as well as the earth itself.
Last of all arrived Destiny’s Father, old and grizzled but strong and eternal, like an elderly knight (in my mind, I picture Auron from Final Fantasy X, but that’s just me). He seated himself on the Diamond Throne and the gods arrayed themselves around him. Minor gods and supernatural entities that the story doesn’t bother to name or describe stand outside the ring of gods, there to listen but not to participate. This was a matter for the powerful alone.
He waited for everyone to settle in and quiet down, then the Father of Destiny stood to address the crowd and issue a warning. “Centuries ago, a light was born to walk the earth. He was a good and mighty spirit, and he taught the world about goodness and virtue. He was cast down and killed, but even the hordes of Hell itself couldn’t stop him. The whole world now knows the name of this Jesus Christ, but they have twisted his message to hateful, unholy ends. Now, strangers invade our land beneath his symbol to force our people to abandon us and join them or die. We are not powerless though, my ancient brethren. We must stand.”
The gods murmured amongst themselves at this proclamation, and Perkons stood to address the assembled ancient gods. “Mighty and immortal we might be, but even gods must yield to Destiny. Even so, I vow here and now that I will hold the Latvian people in my hand and shelter them with my strength. These murderous knights swarm upon our shores to burn and pillage and conquer, and to enslave our people. I will send them clean air and needed rain to feed their bellies and their souls. I will light the night with flashing light and embolden their hearts with the crash of my voice. Will you join me in defending out people, my fellow gods? Will you vow to stand with me?”
Patrimps stood in response. “The Baltic is a fruitful and fertile land, and I will ensure it stays that way! I will give our people golden wheat to ripen in their fields and to fall beneath their sickles at harvest, but the ploughs of invaders will break upon stones and their crops wither and die.” Atrimps stood next. “The Baltic sea will boil and rage, and the wind will drive their ship against the rocks to splinter and break. They will find no refuge on the waters!” Pakols added his voice, swearing that the souls of the brave Latvians who died in the defense of their homeland would rise to heaven, while the vile invaders would be dragged into the depths of hell. “Beneath the Northern Lights, their craven hearts will tremble with fear!”
Soon, all the gods had stood one after the other and sworn Perkons’ oath to aid the brave Latvians in the defense of their homeland in whatever way they could. Last of all stood Liga. “I know that I am one of the least of this assembly of powerful deities. My power is subtle, but no less powerful for that. The Latvian raise their voices in my songs around the fires at night, and our names ring in the air each time. No matter what, these brave people will not be forgotten and neither will we. I will lend the people our strength and cheer their hearts with music.”
Their vows all made, the council had no more business and called it a day and prepared to head for their various abodes. Last of all rose Staburadze, a water nymph, speaking to the dispersing crowd. “Before you leave, I have news. I came straight here from a raging cyclone on the open sea that I was riding. From the heart of the maelstrom, I spied two witches riding gnarled oaken branches across the Daugava River. I watched as they cast one twisted staff into a pool, then rode off together on the remaining one for their dread, dreary homes. Curious, I hurried over to the whirlpool where they had thrown their secret power and retrieved it from the raging waters.
“You’ll never guess what happened next! This wooden staff was no staff at all, but an ensorceled young man! I pulled the unconscious man from the heart of the wood and took him to the safety of my crystal palace beneath the river and laid him on a bed of shells to rest. I stayed with him until I was sure he was stable, and then raced here to tell all of you. He is safe in the whirlpool of Staburags, from which no human can emerge without turning immediately into lifeless stone. I wanted to get your advice, Perkons. I’d like to keep him with me, safe and alive.”
Tikla arched a stern eyebrow. “Really. You just want to keep him safe. Are you perhaps tired of your immortal life, and anxious to lay aside your divinity to spend a few brief years with this sexy mortal man?” Staburadze blushed at Tikla’s cutting (but not entirely inaccurate) reading of the situation, but she shook her head stubbornly. “That’s not it at all, Tikla. Don’t be ridiculous. This young man is no ordinary mortal. He’s not just some hot piece of ass, he’s a hero. Or he will be one day. In his soul burns a spark that has the potential to rage against the darkness. I just want to keep him alive long enough for that spark to grow into the promised fire. He can’t be a beacon in the coming night if he dies.” She probably muttered something less polite under her breath, but she was not nearly powerful enough to mouth off to a major goddess without a damn good reason (and some catty insults were definitely not a good enough reason).
Tikla opened her mouth with clear intent to ramp up the snark, but Laima, who holds fate in her hands, interrupted. “Intriguing. A hero you say? The future holds no secrets from me, and I think I’ll just take a little peek and see what is to be.” Before she could act on this impulse, however, Perkons leapt to his feet, the hall quaking with the rolling thunder of his rage. “Be silent, all of you! This man is under my protection! His fate is to remain a secret to the world until I decide it’s time, Laima, not you. And Staburadze, I am grateful to you for rescuing this man from the scheme of those foul witches, but you are right about his heroic soul. He is to be my champion, not your fuck boy. He’s the son of the lord of Lielvarde, and his name is Lacplesis, the bear slayer. The world would have been a darker place without your quick thinking Staburadze. Now I need you to hurry back to your crystal palace and keep him safe. Under no circumstances are you to allow him to be turned to stone by the dread whirlpool. And you, Laima – you too will help care for this young man. Give him the benefit of your wisdom so that, when the time comes, he will know the right paths to take for the sake of humanity, and for the sake of the gods. Everything depends on him fulfilling the plans I have for him and becoming the hero he is meant to be.” And with that, the council of gods well and truly broke up.
So who is this young Lacplesis and why was he imprisoned in a log and thrown into an inescapable whirlpool by scheming witches? Well, to answer that, we have to go back in time a little. On the banks of the River Daugava stood the famous halls of Lielvarde, though nothing today remains of this place but a waterfall that roars over the cliffs and into the river below. It was spring, and a particularly nice one at that. The weather was so mild and pleasant that even the usually-arduous work of being a peasant in the 13th Century seemed almost fun. Almost. Even the local lord was taking advantage of the season to go on a little walk through the fields with his 18 year old son and heir, who presumably had a name before he got his much more famous one, but whatever it was is lost to history.
Father and son wandered idly through the fields and headed into the forest well off the beaten path. After they had been walking for a while, the older lord grew tired and decided to sit and rest for a bit underneath a large, shady tree at the edge of a beautiful meadow. He leaned back and closed his eyes to enjoy the tranquility. Which he did right up until it was shattered by the deep bass roar of a massive bear. His eyes snapped open and stared at his own approaching death. Bears move incredibly fast when they want to, and the old man knew he was never going to be able to stand and run in time. He had only a few more breaths left to live.
With incredible quickness, his son dashed in front of the bear and seized its powerful, slavering jaws with his bare hands (pun intended). Muscles rippled in the young man’s powerful frame and, demonstrating his incredible strength, the young man tore the bear’s apart, splintering bones, ripping flesh, and killing the bear. The old lord stared at his son, drenched in gore from the bear that had almost taken his life. “Son, that…that was incredible. It’s clear to me now that you are the hero of prophecy, chosen by the gods to be their champion.
“You’re probably wondering about that. I don’t blame you. Let me tell you the story, my son. 18 years ago, on this very day, a little boat sailed ashore. Out stepped an old, wise man, bearded and gray, with an infant in his arms. Even as old as he clearly was, his steps were light and youthful. He brought the baby boy to my manor and told me that the Father of Destiny had decreed that I was to raise him as my own son and train him in everything he would need to know.
“This old sage revealed himself to be Vaidelots, servant of the gods, and told me that the boy had been found deep within the trackless wilds of the forest. He had been abandoned there by unknown parents and nursed by a she-bear, which was the only reason he was alive to be found at all. Vaidelots told me that the young babe, which you’ve probably guessed is you, would grow up to be the champion of the gods, destined to strike fear into the hearts of evil men.
“He warned me that, somewhere in the west, a horde of terrible monsters were arrayed against the god of thunder, with cross-shaped horns, ready to descend upon our homes and lay waste to our people. The gods will fight, but they will lose, and our people will pay the price. Our heroes will rise and fight, and they will fall. Vaidelots had lived far beyond the years of mortal men in the sacred grove of the Romove Oak in Nadruvia (in the northern part of the Baltic) and had brought glad tidings and grave messages to chiefs and to commoners, but he said that this was the darkest message he had ever carried. He told me not to mourn for this loss for it wouldn’t last forever. He couldn’t see how long our people would groan beneath the heavy yoke of the invader, but he knew that one day, our people would again be free.
“Vaidelots said nothing more, but hastened to his boat, leaving you asleep in my arms. I stared after him for a long time, pondering what was to come, as the boat disappeared with the last light of the dying sun. And now the day he spoke of has come. You have proved yourself a hero and earned a new name – Lacplesis the bear slayer! You have done your first mighty deed; now go, my son, and fulfill your destiny.”
Bear-Slayer will in fact set out from his village and march into destiny, but we’ll have to wait for another episode to see what happens, because 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 god is Velnias, Lord of Darkness.
Velnias’ name comes from the same root word as vele, meaning a spirit of the departed. From the pieces of stories that survive from the pre-Christian era, it’s likely that he was originally an underworld god set up as part of a triad with Perkons (symbolizing the celestial forces) and Patrimps (symbolizing the aquatic forces). As part of the Crusades that forcibly brought Christianity to the region, Velnias became corrupted and mixed with the Christian Satan, turning him into a decidedly evil monster and so shows up mostly as an antagonist to Perkons.
This phantom of the dead was usually portrayed as a one-eyed, prophetic trickster capable of raising whirlwinds. He also led a version of the Wild Hunt as the black rider, raising an army of the dead to ride across the night sky. Some scholars believe that, before Christianization, he may have had a lot in common with the Norse All-Father Odin (another one-eyed prophetic deity who often wandered the land causing problems). After he became a devil, he morphed into a ruler of Hell who mostly appeared in the forms of animals dangerous to humans (such as wolves and bears, though also as goats and rabbits at times). There are stories of him appearing at weddings to dance with a hanged woman, as well as the more typical stories of him appearing to claim the souls of the dead. There are also plenty of stories assiciating Velnias with music, with stories of him making deals with musicians – in exchange for skill, they are bound to the devil and are often turned into instruments themselves to play incredibly beautifully for the rest of eternity. So if a wolf offers to teach you to play the violin, think hard before you accept his offer.
That’s it for this episode of Myths Your Teacher Hated. Keep up with new episodes on our Facebook page, on iTunes, on Stitcher, on TuneIn, and on Spotify, or you can follow us on Twitter as @HardcoreMyth and on Instagram as Myths Your Teacher Hated Pod. 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, whom you can find on fiverr.com.
Next time, we’re headed back to the Emerald Isle for some Saint Patrick’s Day fun. You’ll see that pretty boys can be cool, that fish is tricky to cook, and that you can find wisdom in some strange places. Then, in Gods and Monsters, you’ll learn that Mr. Ed is an asshole. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.