Episode 80B – Crime and Punishment – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 80B Show Notes

Source: Celtic Mythology

This week on MYTH, it’s the epic conclusion to the tale of Rhiannon. You’ll learn that you should never take other people’s cups, that hanging is an appropriate punishment for a mouse, and that England is a terrible place to live. Then, in Gods and Monsters, you’ll discover why you should never sleep outside. 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 80B, “Crime and Punishment”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
Last time, we dove into the fairy tale romance of the mortal prince Pwyll and the fae lady Rhiannon. It was a very up and down (mostly down) relationship involving intrigue, double-crosses, and gruesome faked baby deaths. Pwyll had accidentally stolen from a fairy lord from the mysterious Otherworld and, in punishment, had been forced to trade places with the fairy king for a year. His wild success at this test had gotten the attention of Rhiannon, who had engineered a meet-cute with the handsome mortal. Rhiannon had been sort-of engaged to a fae lord named Gwawl, and he had not taken their break-up well (especially since Rhiannon had never been that into him in the first place). He had tricked Pwyll into giving up his right to Rhiannon’s hand in marriage, but Rhiannon had helped her mortal lover trick Gwawl in return. Unfortunately, his men had taken the trick way, way too far and had nearly beaten the fae lord to death before Pwyll stepped in. Rhiannon and Pwyll were eventually married and had a child, but the baby disappeared in the middle of the night, and the serving women who had fallen asleep on the job staged a murder and blamed the baby’s death on the queen. With no better explanation, her husband had banished his wife to the city gate for a humiliating few years before the vanished boy had reappeared not far away after a mysterious monster was driven off. He was raised by the couple who found him until it became clear that he was the missing prince, who was renamed Pryderi. The boy, who grew way faster than a normal mortal, had been returned to his parents, proving Rhiannon’s innocence and restoring her place in court. Rhiannon and Pwyll were reunited with their son in his proper place, and they had many good years together, but the damage to Rhiannon had already been done.
In time, Pwyll grew old and died, but Rhiannon remained a beautiful woman in the prime of her life (what with being a fairy and all). You know that scene from the Lord of the Rings: Return of the King where Arwen stands over Aragorn’s tomb and weeps? Yeah, that’s very much an echo of Rhiannon standing over the grave of Pwyll. She sat there beside his grave and reflected on their life together. Even though he had decided to trust the mortal serving women instead of his own wife, and even though he had been cruel and gullible with Gwawl, she had loved him. He had been a mix of good and bad, but then, what else could you expect from a mortal? Her father had tried to warn her. And now, here she was without him in a land that still didn’t feel like home. If it weren’t for her son Pryderi, she would pack up and head back to Otherworld, but she couldn’t abandon her only son who was anchored to this mortal place by his human blood.
Pryderi had grown to manhood, so he took over his father’s kingdom and ruled wisely and well with his mother as one of his chief advisors and magistrates. It was an effective arrangement for a time, but eventually Pryderi married a mortal woman – Kigva, daughter of Gwynn the Splendid, son of Gloyw Wide Hair, son of Casnar. He loved his mother and she was a valuable voice of wisdom, but he thought it might be best if his mother had a life of her own to leave for, freeing up the place in his court for his new wife to take her rightful spot. The best way to make this happen without doing his mommy dirty was to find her a new husband. It was going to be tough to find someone good enough for the wise, beautiful, and capable Rhiannon.
He eventually settled on Manawyddan, one of the sons of Llyr (a god of the sea, healing, and magic) and brother to Bran the Blessed (a legendary king whose story we’ll eventually get to). He was someone of great respect and renown, and he also had his roots in Otherworld like Rhiannon herself. Manawyddan had been robbed of his rightful title and lands by the usurper Casswallawn. Pryderi and his allies had offered to help the dethroned king regain his birthright, but Manawyddan had decided that he was tired of war and wished only to settle in peace. Pryderi went to visit Manawyddan and suggested that perhaps he should come and meet Rhiannon to judge for himself. If they hit it off, Pryderi would be happy to gift the couple some of his land to rule over. Manawyddan wasn’t sure about this whole shebang, but out of respect for Pryderi, he agreed to at least come visit and meet the fae lady.
Pryderi wasn’t sure how his mother would take the news of a possible remarriage, so he didn’t tell her about his behind the scenes matchmaking. If the two didn’t hit it off, there was nothing to tell her and it would just be a thing. A great feast was held in honor of their esteemed visitor and he was seated next to Rhiannon just as a mark of respect you understand. Rhiannon suspected nothing and found herself liking this stranger. He was wise and easy to talk to (and he wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes either). The fact that he was able to actually converse about the shining realm of Annwyn, Rhiannon’s home, was a huge mark in his favor. As the night wore on, Pryderi could see that sparks were flying between the two, so he leaned over and asked (louder than he meant to, given the noisy feast) if Manawyddan had decided to take his offer.
Rhiannon heard her son’s remark and easily put two and two together. “What offer? What did you do?” A little sheepishly, Pryderi told his mother about his conversations with the Manawyddan. She was naturally furious that her son was making deals about her life without her input and she told him so in the sharp, clipped tones that mothers everywhere have perfected, asking just why the hell she hadn’t been consulted in this. Pryderi had no good answer for this and sputtered awkwardly, but Manawyddan stepped in to smooth things over. “It was my fault, my lady. I wanted to save you the embarrassment and make our first meeting a little more comfortable. If you knew what your son was thinking, you would have been on your guard and we wouldn’t have had that wonderful conversation we just had. I assure you, our intentions were good, my lady.” Rhiannon considered this answer. She was sharp enough to know that he was a little bit full of shit, but in a good way. He was trying to spare his friend and host embarrassment, which was an honorable deception. She liked him well enough, and she had certainly enjoyed their conversation. True, he didn’t give her butterflies the way that Pwyll had, but she was experienced enough by now to know that butterflies weren’t necessarily the foundation of a lasting relationship. True, deep love could be founded on other things than racing hormones. She gave Manawyddan a sharp look. “Is that so? And what have you decided then, my lord?”
Manawyddan laughed warmly. “You are everything your son said and more, my lady. If you will have me, I would be honored to be your husband.” Rhiannon tapped her lips as she considered, drawing out the silence for an anxiety-inducingly long time just to pay them back a little, before she too smiled. Pryderi breathed a sigh of relief. He was very much his father’s son and had much of the impulsiveness that had caused them so much heartache, and he was worried that he’d ruined what he genuinely believed would be a great match. In a tone that bordered on mocking, Rhiannon agreed. “My son had a rare good idea, and I wouldn’t want to ruin it for him.” Manawyddan laughed along with her, delighting in her sense of humor. “My lady, I think we will do well together.” And so it was that Rhiannon entered into a new marriage and a new life.
The next few years were good ones all around. Rhiannon and Manawyddan remained good friends with Pryderi and Kigva, spending plenty of good time together. One night, the two couples were enjoying good food and a pleasant evening at Arberth when the conversation turned to the mounds where Pwyll had first seen Rhiannon all those years ago. The group was seized by the urge to journey back there and climb the mounds, Rhiannon from a sense of nostalgia and Pryderi from a sense of curiosity about his origins. Kigva was the only one who was apprehensive about the trek, but she went along with them anyway. An eerie aura lay over the entire place that had always made her uncomfortable.
Since it was peak summer, the sun was still hanging heavy in the sky when the group set out from the castle. They easily crested the hills and looked out over their land and distant castle. From up here, the various farms and fields looked like a sprawling but well-maintained checkerboard with the castle dominating the landscape. From out of a cloudless sky, thunder suddenly rocked the landscape, surprising the quartet. All four looked up towards the heavens, puzzled by the source of the sudden cacophony. When they looked back down towards the kingdom, it was gone, lost in a thick white mist. It crept over the world and up the hills until they too were lost in the fog. Kigva seized her husband by the hand and whispered that she wanted to go back. Hell, she hadn’t wanted to come in the first place. Pryderi made soothing noises, promising her that they would absolutely head back home as soon as the fog lifted enough to make their way safely back down.
Only it didn’t. Instead of lifting, the fog only grew denser until the entire world was lost in vague nothingness. Rhiannon sensed that something Otherworldly was at play here and warned the others to stay close together and hold hands. She found herself feeling equal parts trepidation and excitement at this unexpected turn of events. She loved her son and her new husband, but a part of her longed to go home again though an equal part feared losing what she had built here in the mortal realm of Dyved.
At long last, the mist finally cleared. To Rhiannon’s simultaneous delight and disappointment, the world that was revealed was not the shining realm of Annwyn but that of Dyved. Wait. Something wasn’t right. Their momentary relief gave way to shock as the four realized that this was not actually Dyved – it had the feel of the mortal world, but the landscape had utterly changed. Gone was the patchwork of familiar farms and the comforting bulk of the castle. As far as the eye could see lay wild, untamed forests that had long forgotten the hand of man. Where the castle should have stood lay only a ring-mound and a few scattered, charred ruins of what may once have been huts. They stood totally alone, without another civilized soul for miles and miles.
Too shocked for word, they headed as one towards the ruins, the closest thing to familiar they could see. Inwardly, they harbored the secret hope that this was just a hallucination or maybe a cruel illusion, that the world they knew would reappear once they left the magical mounds. It did not. The charred ruins stubbornly remained where the castle should have been. Everything they had owned, everyone they had ever known was gone, leaving them with nothing. Night was coming on fast, vast and dark and cruel. Fear gripped their hearts.
They cowered in the shell of the ruined building, a small fire their only scant comfort. Huddling together for warmth and safety, the four went to sleep and dreamed that everything would be back to normal in the morning. It was not. Everything was as it had been and they were no better off than they had been the night before. Days passed with them barely scratching out a meager existence by digging for roots and hunting for game with crude weapons fashioned from what they could scrounge up. They kept hoping that something would change the next morning, that the castle would be back or voices would echo through the trees, but nothing ever did. They were alone and forsaken in this empty place. At long last, they decided that waiting was never going to do them any good. If they wanted anything to change, they were going to have to go somewhere, anywhere. They set out east more or less towards what had once been civilization hoping against hope that other parts of the world had remained untouched by whatever strange enchantment had taken hold of them.
As you can probably guess, they were about to be disappointed though not entirely. They did finally come to villages and people like those they had once known, but they were not in any country they had ever heard tell of before. Gone was Dyved; they found themselves in a strange country known as Hereford, England. No one they spoke to had ever heard of them or their country or their people. They had no reputation, no status, and no money. In a word, they were fucked.
Having no other choice, the four outlanders began to build a life as strangers in a strange land, as foreign as it was possible to be. Selling what they could hunt and gather to scrape together a little money, they opted to begin a small business selling saddles. For all that he was nobility, Manawyddan had an expert hand at this skill (as with many others, as he was something of a Renaissance man) and under his guidance, their saddles were soon in high demand. None of these English had ever seen such skill and beauty and comfort as came from the shop of these foreigners. As their fame grew, so did the jealousy of the existing saddle makers. The other merchants grumbled together until their anger turned murderous and whispered threats began to circulate. Pryderi, who had always been the more impulsive one, wanted to stay and fight; Manawyddan on the other hand counseled prudence. Even if they won the fight, they would make no friends. Discretion was the better part of valor here, and so they slipped away from the village in secret.
They soon came to another town where none had heard their names and none were jealous of their skills. Figuring that maybe the local saddle makers were just a bunch of dicks, they decided to try their hand at shield making this time. Again, their skillful work soon became the envy of all and again, the other shield makers soon became murderously jealous of these foreign strangers. Again, they were warned to get the fuck out of town if they knew what was good for them. Pryderi wanted to stand and fight even more than before, but Manawyddan still counseled peace. They had started from nothing before, they could do it again (and this time, they would have an even bigger nest egg from their labor to start fresh). Pryderi made no secret of his grumbling, but he went along with the group just the same.
A third time, the four outlanders settled in a new village where none knew their names. This time, they decided to be shoe makers. Surely shoe makers couldn’t be much of a threat, right? That’s right, bullshit. A third time, they were driven out of town by their jealous competition, numerous enough this time that even Pryderi could see that fighting was a mistake. They were all dismayed by being hated by everyone yet again, and not even Manawyddan could get it up to try again. They made the slow, depressing trek back to the ruins of Dyved to live a simple life of farming, hunting, and gathering. It was a shitty life, but at least they wouldn’t be threatened by jealous locals here.
They built a small settlement with what they had managed to bring with them from their various successful endeavors in the three towns, including some hunting dogs. One day, Pryderi and Manawyddan were out hunting with said dogs in the wilderness. The pack rushed into a copse of bushes with a snarl and then came racing back with their tails between their legs, whimpering in terror. Confused and curious, the two men went to see what had the dogs acting so weird. Something exploded out of the undergrowth, nearly running them down and trampling them. A massive white boar flashed past them and went charging wildly down to the valley. The dogs, who had recovered their courage, went howling after forcing the two men to give chase.
After a short pursuit, the men were distracted from their quarry by an impossible sight – a stout stone wall looming high over the countryside where none had been the day before. Even stranger, a massive structure could be seen towering beyond the wall. It was the sort of imposing architecture that hadn’t been seen since the enchanted mist had swept across Dyved and swept it away. The boar and the dogs were less interested in strange occurrences and rushed in through the gate. Pryderi moved to give chase, but Manawyddan pulled him up short. “Seriously? You’re just going to race headlong into the clearly enchanted mystery building? Come on, friend! Use your head for once.”
Pryderi shook his friend off. “Easy for you to say: you’re not the one about to lose his irreplaceable prize hounds! No one is selling hunting dogs for miles and miles, and we’ve been run out of all of the places that are even a long journey away! I’m going in.” Without looking back, the impatient Pryderi loped inside the gates. Even though they had been just ahead of him, there was no sign of boar or dogs on the other side of the wall, nor of any other living thing for that matter. All was unnervingly still and silent.
Driven a little by his legitimate concern for his dogs and a lot for his piqued curiosity, Pryderi wandered from hall to hall, staring in wonder at the strangeness of it all. Room after room, corridor after corridor – the place was enormous and completely deserted. Eventually (he wasn’t entirely sure exactly how long he had been wandering if he were being honest with himself), Pryderi came to a large courtyard somewhere in the building’s interior. Standing in the center was a beautiful fountain carved from the purest white marble and above it hung a golden cup from a chain. It was immediately clear to Pryderi that the cup was meant to be used to drink from the fountain so, without pausing to consider the wisdom of drinking from a strange fountain in a mysterious magic castle, he strode up and seized the cup. As soon as his fingers touched the golden chalice, his entire body froze into absolute stillness. His muscles refused to obey his frantic commands, his screams of panic locked in his throat. He was trapped. Shit.
Manawyddan waited with increasing agitation for his friend to emerge from the castle. Nothing moved in the eerie stillness, and no sound could be heard echoing from the dead halls. Every fiber in his being screamed that this was a trap, this was a trap, holy shit this was obviously a goddamned trap and Pryderi had wandered right the fuck in. Part of him longed to rush in to the rescue, but Manawyddan was wise enough to realize that walking into the trap himself wouldn’t help anyone. Instead, he headed back to their small homestead with a heavy heart.
He told Rhiannon and Kigva what had happened, why Pryderi had not returned with him. Rhiannon was absolutely furious with her husband for abandoning her son to his fate without even making the slightest attempt to rescue him. Was he a coward or something? Manawyddan let her anger roll off him. He completely understood where she was coming from. “No, my wife. There is clearly strong magic there and it wasn’t going to do anybody any good for me to get myself trapped inside with Pryderi. I felt that my duty to the two of you outweighed my duty to Pryderi. He made his choice, even after I warned him of the obvious danger.”
Rhiannon sniffed in disdain. Come hell or high water, she was going after her son and no force on this earth was going to stop her. That’s not to say that Manawyddon didn’t try his damnedest to talk her out of this foolhardy quest, but she refused to be dissuaded. Her son needed her. That’s all there was to it. With Kigva and Manawyddan following after desperately trying to talk sense into her, Rhiannon rushed to the magic castle.
She found the place exactly where her husband had said it would be and it was every bit as still and silent and clearly fucking magical as he had warned. That wasn’t going to stop her – she was a fae lady from Otherworld, damn it! Like Pryderi, she wandered through the empty rooms and found no sign of life until she came to the courtyard. She saw the marble fountain with its golden cup hung from above. More importantly, she saw Pryderi, his hand outstretched and just barely touching the suspended chalice. He was frozen to absolute stillness, looking for all the world like the most realistic statue ever carved. Rhiannon sized up the situation, taking a moment to actually use her brain. Like Manawyddan had said, this was clearly a magical castle and that cup was just as clearly an artifact of the shining realms. He had blundered by trying to seize it without having made the proper preparations or invitations. She reached out to pull Pryderi’s hand away from the cup, hoping that severing contact would free him from the spell. In her haste however, her own hand grazed the cup as she reached for her son’s hand and she too was immediately frozen in place. There was a great thunderclap and a thick mist rolled out of absolutely nowhere to blanket the land. When it faded away again, the castle, Pryderi, and Rhiannon were gone, vanished into thin air. Manawyddan and Kigva held each other in dismay at the awful emptiness where their loved ones should have been.
Somewhere, Pryderi and Rhiannon found themselves standing in a strange hall surrounded by a jeering, angry crowd. They were forced towards what they soon saw was a high throne where a regal figure sat, clearly the ruler of wherever they were. The cruel prince and his cold lady beside him glared down on the intruders, ordering that they be bound in thick, heavy chains. Rhiannon was outraged by this inhospitable treatment and demanded to know just what the hell they thought they were doing. Neither she nor her son had ever seen these people before and had certainly never done anything to them to deserve such harsh treatment. High on his throne, the prince sneered at her haughty words. “You have never harmed me personally, tis true, but you have gravely wounded someone dear to me.” Rhiannon cast her mind back, but could think of no one that she and her son had offended badly enough to warrant this treatment. Pryderi was hotheaded, sure, but he was a good man.
“Enough! Yours is not to question! Take them away and let them serve as beasts of burden. Since they can’t seem to recall what they have done, let them be mere animals!” Thus, for the second time in her long life, Rhiannon endured a period of cruel suffering. She and Pryderi were forced to serve in hard, menial labor with no end in sight and no answers to their questions. She racked her brains trying to think of just who the fuck she could have hurt badly enough to deserve this, but there was no one. They mostly served in the harshest, dirtiest jobs but they did occasionally stumble across the prince’s path. Every time he saw them sagging under their burdens, filthy and exhausted, he smiled in triumph.
Rhiannon might not have had any luck at figuring out why they were being punished but that didn’t mean she wasn’t trying to find a way out. In time, she noticed a pattern – at the same late hour every night, everyone in the castle disappeared except for the prince’s wife who was now visibly pregnant. The princess, lonely in her solitude in the empty castle, began to seek out the company of Rhiannon and Pryderi. At first, she would simply walk in the courtyard where they slept out under the sky, chained for the night; then, she began to converse with Rhiannon. The fae lady cultivated a friendship and was able to begin carefully questioning her, but it soon became clear that she also had no clue why they were being punished. Pryderi tried to convince her to speak to her husband about their situation, maybe try to talk him into releasing his captives. Rhiannon could plainly see that the princess was far too timid (or maybe just afraid of her cruel husband) to ever do that.
Rhiannon asked the princess where everyone went at night and why, when they came back in the wee hours of the morning, they were always so boisterous and cheerful. The princess refused to spill this particular secret until one night when she was feeling particularly ill and lonely. It turned out that the prince and his men were transforming themselves into field mice each night and then sneaking into the mortal world to eat all of Manawyddan’s stored wheat. “That sounds like a lot of fun. I’m surprised you don’t go with them. Don’t you deserve to let off a little steam?” The princess moped. “I’d love to, but my husband will not allow me to go.” “What do you mean ‘allow’? If my husband tried to pull some bullshit like that, I’d kick him right in the balls. If there was something I wanted to do, there is no way that I’d allow some man, especially my husband, to tell me otherwise. He’s your husband, not your jailer.” The conversation was cut short after that by the return of the prince, but Rhiannon was satisfied.
Another day passed, and the two were chained up in the courtyard as usual. However, this time there was no appearance from the princess. Rhiannon smiled. She’d hoped that she’d gotten under her captor’s skin enough to push her to do something reckless. Without company, the night was still and silent and dull, but Rhiannon bided her time with rising optimism. She had to fight to suppress a smile when the prince returned and it was clear from their mutterings and visible anger that tonight had not gone as planned. Feigning sleep, Rhiannon listened to the men grumble and heard one complaining about the prince being foolish enough to let his wife come along on their expedition only to get her ass caught. Her very first time out to the mortal world, and she had ruined everything. They had been forced to leave her behind, and the prince was furious.
Pryderi saw his mother smile in the darkness and cocked one eyebrow quizzically. “I’d hoped that would happen. Having been pregnant, I know from experience just how awkward movement can be when you’re that far along. I had a feeling that the prince was trying to protect her rather than just being a controlling asshat – she was too slow to keep up with the others and got caught. Now we wait.”
Back in Dyved, Manawyddan smiled as he held up the fat mouse he had captured during the night. Those pesky bastards had been sneaking into his fields and destroying his crops every night, He’d been trying to stop them for a while now, and at last he’d managed to snag one (even if it was because this little fat mouse had been too slow to keep up with the others when they scattered). Kigva walked up to see him holding the mouse carefully but firmly. “You know what? It’s time to teach those furry assholes a lesson. I’m going to hang this mouse as an example to its companions.”
Kigva shot her father-in-law a strange look. “You can’t be serious. It’s not exactly dignified for a man of your age and stature to go through the trouble of hanging vermin.” Manawyddan shrugged. “Dignity be damned. I’m going to hang this mouse.” Not only was he going to do it, he was going to make a spectacle out of it (not that there was anyone but himself, Kigva, and the mice to see it). He went up to the mounds of Arberth and began construction on a tiny, mouse-sized gibbet. He had just gotten started with the actual construction when a youth appeared from…somewhere and asked what he was up to. Manawyddan explained his plan, and the youth replied a touch scornfully that it wouldn’t bring the man much honor to take revenge against a tiny mouse like this. Manawyddan shrugged and kept working. “Don’t care much about honor at this point. This little fuzzball and its companions have ravaged my crops until I’m all but starving.”
The youth wandered away back to wherever he had come from while Manawyddan was working, but a grown man soon took his place. There were suddenly an awful lot of strangers wandering around a place where no one had been seen for months, but Manawyddan ignored this newcomer and kept working on the gibbet. “It’s unseemly for you to be carrying on this way over some mere mouse. Tell you what, madman, I’ll offer you gold in exchange for that mouse you hold prisoner. Just to spare you the disgrace of going through with your cruel, ridiculous plan, you understand.”
Manawyddan shrugged and kept working, not even bothering to look up. “Don’t care much about disgrace at this point. This little fuzzball and its companions have ravaged my crops until I’m all but starving.” As before, the man wandered away without Manawyddan seeing him go and was soon replaced by an old man. They went through a third iteration of the conversation, with the stranger trying to talk Manawyddan out of hanging the mouse and Manawyddan refusing to be dissuaded. By this point, the gibbet was complete, and so Manawyddan took the mouse out of the bag he’d been holding it in and placed it on the gibbet with the tiny noose around its neck. “Wait, wait, I beg you. I’ll give you anything. Whatever you want if you let the mouse go!”
At last, Manawyddan looked up at his visitor. “Anything? Will you give me the release of Rhiannon and Pryderi for this small mouse?” Without hesitation, the old man replied “I would.” “Would you also remove the enchantment from the land of Dyved?” “Yes, yes! Anything you want if you release the mouse! Free the mouse, please!” “Not until you tell me who you are and who this mouse really is”. The old man’s shoulders slumped, and he knew the jig was up. As you’ve probably already guessed, the little mouse was the prince’s pregnant wife and the three apparent mortals were the prince in disguise. His name was Llywd, son of Kil Coed, and he was a close friend of Gwawl (Rhiannon’s old suitor from the previous episode that Pryderi’s father Pwyll had allowed to be mistreated). It was on his friend’s behalf that he had captured Rhiannon and Pryderi to avenge the wrongs done to the battered Gwawl (who had been bound by his promise not to seek revenge himself).
Manawyddan smiled. “I had a feeling it was something like that. You shall have your wife back, but not before you swear that all is now settled between Rhiannon and Gwawl and that no more harm shall come of this feud.” Llywd so swore and reached out to take the mouse, but Manawyddan put out a hand. “Not so fast, sir. My wife and stepson first.” Llywd gestured behind him, where Rhiannon and Pryderi could be seen walking over the hills. Manawyddan rushed over to greet his returned family. When the hugging and laughing was done, Llywd and the mouse were gone, never to be seen again. As the group headed back down from the hills, they could see that the land of Dyved was once more the fertile, vibrant place they remembered. No one they met had any idea that anything had ever been otherwise, nor had any time passed during their exile in the dreary land of England.
In both halves of this story, we see both the good and the bad that can come when you try to bridge the two worlds. The path between the mortal realm and Otherworld is usually closed to us, open only in certain places, times, and/or circumstances. Likewise, you see the crucial importance that exact wording has when dealing with the fae. The denizens of Otherworld are beings of their word, but usually in a very strict interpretation that leaves a lot of room for trickery at the margins. Pwyll was far too vague when he promised a stranger ‘anything in his power’, and it is only Rhiannon’s careful rule lawyering that averts disaster. In the flush of victory at their next meeting from pulling off her clever ruse, she doesn’t notice the gap she left in her own words, leaving room for Llywd to step in.
You see also some common themes from Celtic myths: the recurrence of the number three and the continuation of stories (and especially of feuds and punishment) down multiple generations. Their belief in reincarnation coupled with a very strong respect for honor meant that debts could not be escaped simply by dying. Punishment incurred by one individual must be paid off before things can move on, even if it’s the children or grandchildren who end up doing the actual paying. This ends up working out for them thanks to the wisdom of Manawyddan, who balances the mortal world and Otherworld. Rhiannon is clever and brave, but she also gives in to her more impulsive nature for love (first of her husband-to-be and then of her son) even knowing the risks. She is punished for her impulsiveness, but the purity of her intentions and the strength of her will allow her to endure. Manawyddan captures the mouse in the midst of a crime, so it is his right to enact punishment. He is approached three times by three figures representing three distinct ages of humanity to ask him to divert justice, but he holds fast until the prince is prepared to make the proper sacrifice to offset her debt. All debts are paid and now the story can truly end with happiness for all involved (more or less), which means 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 monster is the Alp-Luachra.
This slimy little reptilian fairy looks pretty harmless at first glance. In fact, it more or less looks like one of the newts native to the region but that’s as far as the similarity goes. According to the old tales, this little nasty has more in common with the Xenomorph from the Alien movies. While newts are brightly colored and kind of cute in their amphibious way, the Alp-Luachra, also known as the Joint-Eater among a host of other similar names, is a tiny fairy that uses its glamour to remain invisible to the naked eye. It’s skin is said to have a numbing effect, making any skin that touches it unable to feel anything at all. So just don’t touch it, right?
I mean, first of all you can’t see it to avoid it, but second, it usually infests you while you sleep. Anyone who takes a little snooze outside is at risk of becoming the prey of the Alp-Luachra (or anyone who eats newts, but that’s easier to avoid doing). While you snore, the little bastard will slither into your mouth and crawl down your throat, all the way down to your stomach. Given its numbing skin, the host of this creepy parasite never feels a thing. At least, not until the Alp-Luachra starts to make itself at home, burrowing into the stomach and causing pain in the host’s sides that only get worse as time goes on. You see, as the poor host tries to eat anything, the Alp-Luachra eats part of what comes down into the stomach (hence the moniker Joint-Eater). Some versions of the story (most notably Robert Kirk’s Secret Commonwealth of Fairies) say that the little fae creatures don’t eat the actual food but the essence of it, the thing that makes it nourishing.
The more it feeds, the bigger it grows, soon spawning little baby Alp-Luachra who join in on the feast. With more mouths to feed, less and less food is left over for the host, who begins to slowly waste away while the pain in their guts gets worse and worse. No matter how much you eat, you never eat enough and you never gain weight. A few years after the initial infestation, the host is dead and the swarm of Alp-Luachra slither out into the world to look for their next sucker.
In Douglas Hyde’s collection Beside the Fire, there was once a farmer from Connacht who had been suffering with an Alp-Luachra infestation for six months. He’d tried going to doctors but, being invisible, none had been able to help him with the fairies. At wit’s end, he gave himself up to the inevitable. Lucky for him, a beggar happened by who told him that the doctors weren’t going to be able to help with a supernatural problem. What he needed to do was go see Mac Dermott, Prince of Coolavin who just happened to also be the best supernatural doctor around. The prince told him that there was a cure, but it was a little strange: the sick man needed to eat as much salted beef as he could physically shove into his gullet and critically, he couldn’t drink a drop of anything no matter how thirsty the salt made him.
Once he had done so (physically full though no less ravenous), he was to go to the nearest stream and lay down next to it with his mouth open just above the water. As thirsty as the man was, the Alp-Luachra were even thirstier and so they all slithered out of the man’s throat and plopped into the water to drink. By the time the splashing stopped, he had counted a dozen separate fae plus the original who had to be at least seven times as big as the youngsters. Needless to say, the man never slept on the grass ever again. The only other option according to the old tales was to have a strong person hold your jaws wide open while a second sits on your stomach and dangles tantalizing food just out of reach above your mouth. There’s no telling how long this will take, but eventually the creature will start to get hungry and will crawl up to try and get the delicious morsel. Then and only then can the first person let your jaws close, freeing you of the monstrous infestation.
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, on Vurbl, 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.
Next time, we’re going to wander lost in a winter wonderland and hope we don’t die. You’ll learn that talking animals can be assholes (even if they’re right), that hypothermia hallucinations can be very generous, and that some people get better gifts than others. Then, in Gods and Monsters, we’ll meet the Icelandic pranksters who like to sneak into your house and put their mouths on everything. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.