Episode 89 – A Hero’s Journey – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 89 Show Notes

Source: Latvian Mythology

This week on MYTH, we’re headed back to Latvia to catch up with our bear-slaying hero. You’ll learn that they just don’t make boats like they used to, that it helps if a goddess thinks you’re cute, and that it’s easy for jocks to become best friends. Then, in Gods and Monsters, it’s an adorable critter that might make you rich or burn everything you own. 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 89, “A Hero’s Journey”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
When we last left our hero (back in Episode 67), a council of the gods had been called at the castle of Perkons, god of thunder, by Liktena Tevs, the Father of Fate. 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. One by one, each pledged to help the mortals fight however they can. 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, destined for glory, 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), and raised Lacplesis the Bear-Slayer as his own.
Lacplesis rode for Burtniek’s Castle, an ancient school of wisdom. It was a long way off, so he went first to the home of Lord Aizkraukle and his beautiful daughter Spindala. It didn’t take long for Lacplesis to realize that Spindala was a witch, involved in some truly heinous shit. He rode in her magical flying log to the Devil’s Pit and listened in as the Devil himself corrupted the holy man Kangars into helping to break the faith of the Latvian people in Perkons and the gods. As he was riding back, still tucked inside the log, his trickery was discovered and he was dumped, log and all, into the great Staburags whirlpool from which no mere mortal could hope to escape.
As it so happened, the great whirlpool was the home of the goddess/water nymph Staburadze (who opened this story by interrupting the council of the gods). As we saw back in Episode 59, Perkons had made it very clear that she couldn’t keep this handsome mortal she’d found drowning in her river – he was too important. She wasn’t thrilled about it, but she would obey. Staburadze was used to melancholy. Unlike most of the gods, she dwelt in the mortal world amongst the people of the Baltics, whom she loved and protected as well as she could.
She was an important nature spirit, one who defended the people from cruel, uncaring nature. On icy mornings, she would melt the frost from the farmer’s crops to keep them from dying. On cloudy nights, she would warn wandering sailors away from the hungry maw of the unceasing whirlpool. On blistering days, she would lead travelers and shepherds sweating under the noonday sun to bubbling springs for a refreshing drink. She loved her people and they loved her, but she dwelt alone from her own kind in their midst, burdened with the knowledge that they would one day forget her.
Of all her tasks, her favorite was collecting virtuous young women to join her in her palace hall. These women, known as Staburadz’s maidens, dwelt with her beneath the waves, learning her secrets. I suspect she would have gotten on well with Artemis. It was there in that secret place that Lacplesis awoke. Consciousness returned slowly and he gazed in quiet wonder at the gentle beauty surrounding him. The bed seemed to almost rock beneath him, its delicate softness rolling on the swells of the tides as the light of the sun far above refracted through the crystal walls. The room was richly appointed, glittering with gold and silver, and it made the Bearslayer wonder where he was and how he had gotten here. The last thing he remembered was…riding in that witch’s log and being discovered! Even as the stunning beauty of Spindala filled his memory, a different stunning damsel walked into the room.
His first instinct was naturally suspicion. As he had just learned the hard way, beauty was not necessarily an indication of good intent. Still, as he gazed upon her, she seemed more ethereal, like a moonbeam dancing in the twilight, somehow both more and less real than Spindala’s lovely face and foul spirit had been. Her eyes met his and they seemed as gentle as the first faint light of dawn, deep blue against the deeper black of night. As her gaze held his, he saw deeper to the whirling depths of her secret power, a reflection of the whirlpool that was her home.
The folds of her rustling clothes fell in an endless expanse of sky blue, swirling with the long, unbound locks of her hair that hung to her knees in loose curls. He pivoted to the edge of the bed, knees still a little shaky, to greet the woman he was now certain was a goddess. “I can only assume that I have you to thank for rescuing me from that wooden tomb. When they dropped me in the whirlpool, I thought I was dead for sure. Thank you, my lady.” He tried to stand in deference to her divinity, but she held him down with one gentle but firm hand. “Rest, warrior. You very nearly were dead when I found you, and your strength has not yet returned. What kind of host would I be if I allowed you to injure yourself falling out of your sick bed?”
Lacplesis smiled ruefully but allowed himself to be kept in the bed, aware that she was right. “Who are you, goddess? Where am I?” She smiled back at the great mortal hero, still early in his noble quest. “I am Staburadze, and you are in my Crystal Palace beneath the great whirlpool Staburags where you were cast to die.” For the first time, Lacplesis truly allowed himself to relax. His soul told him that she was telling him true and he knew the goddess was as close to the mortals as any of the gods could be, born of humankind as she was. She brought him milk and bread dripping with sweet honey to help him regain his strength, then left him to recuperate.
Time passed in an almost dreamlike state, the days blending together in that supernatural place. He wasn’t really sure how long he had been there but, one day, he found that his clothes fit him properly again, no longer hanging off his haggard frame. As he was finishing up dressing in his armor, Staburadze came in to see him, accompanied by one of her chosen maidens who had helped tend the fallen hero’s wounds. She asked him if he was finally feeling himself again, and he bowed his head in thanks, answering that he did indeed feel better. “I have never known any place like your palace, my lady. Would it be possible for me to stay here? With you?” His ardent gaze clearly included the maiden as well as the goddess.
A look of deep longing filled her eyes; this was the thing she had wanted most, had petitioned Perkons and the other gods for, and now here it was. For a moment, just one moment, she considered assenting to his request, but she knew that the Bearslayer’s fate lay elsewhere than her Crystal Palace. “My warrior, may haps we will meet again some day and you can stay here for as long as you like. Eternity would not seem so long with good company, but that dream will have to wait. Destiny calls you, my warrior, and the gods have set you a hero’s quest. Something is coming, Lacplesis, and you are called to stand up to it and protect your people.”
This call rekindled something deep inside him, a fervent wish for glory. Like good ol’ Achilles from the Iliad, Lacplesis burned with youthful courage and a desire for immortality in song and story, no matter what the cost. “Thank you for your message, my lady. Your gentle hands have gifted me with renewed strength and your beautiful face, the fairest that ever was, will light my way in even the darkest places. Grant me your blessing, my lady, that it may guide my arm and bolster my strength in the battles to come.” The goddess’ smile was radiant though tinged with sadness and regret. “I give you both gladly, my warrior. You face a hard destiny, beset by many cunning foes lurking in the shadows and scheming secret plots. Go forth, my warrior, and strike down foul Spindala and corrupted Kangars!” She handed him a little mirror. “Take this with you, a sign of me to have and to hold. When you come face to face with foul evils and find yourself in dread danger, hold it up to them. Let them tremble under the terrifying visage of Perkons himself! Keep it with you and guard it carefully, my warrior.”
Lacplesis bowed, graciously accepting this powerful gift from the goddess. He smiled at the maiden as well, whose name he had not yet learned though he had fallen more than a little in love with her over all the time she had spent caring for him. She smiled back shyly, and it was clear that she felt the same way. “My lady, I would have a token from you as well, if I may be so bold. Some keepsake to remember you by.” The woman blushed and slowly loosened a ribbon decorated with an oak leaf pattern from her hair, threading it into the cap he wore on his head. “I have no mighty gifts like the goddess I fear, but I gladly offer you my small remembrance. Take it with you and may it keep you safe. Good luck, hero.”
The Bearslayer found himself at a loss for words and so bowed to her deeply as he accepted this treasured ribbon. Staburadze let the young admirers have their moment, and then cleared her throat to bring them both back to the present. “The time has come, my warrior. Journey forth and seek your destiny. I will show you the path along the cliffs through the hidden gate of the Crystal Palace. Fear not, young warrior – I feel certain that you and my maiden Laimdota will one day meet again. Perhaps there is more power in that small ribbon than in any magical artifact I might give you.” He followed the two women to the palace gates, then turned to look into Laimdota’s eyes one last time. For a moment, he could have sworn he saw unshed tears glistening in her lovely eyes. Before he could be sure, he felt himself collapse as his form stiffened and turned to stone once more.
Up on the surface world, the dawn’s first light was already touching the earth. The clear arch of the sky glowed over the banks of the Daugava river promising fair weather for the coming day. High above, one solitary cloud rode the winds. Higher and higher it climbed. At its leading edge, a horse galloped carrying an old man on its back, a whip held in one hand. He let the prancing gray have its head, dashing towards the cliffs towering above Staburag. As he neared, he cracked his whip overhead. Lightning arced from where it cracked, and deafening thunder roared through the air, shaking the rocky cliffs hard enough to cause boulders to tumble and crash into the seething waters below. Amidst it all, the stony form of a man shivered and cracked, stone flaking away to reveal Lacplesis whole and alive in the mortal world once more. Unseen high above, Perkons (because of course it was Perkons) rode away to leave the hero to his work.
The Bearslayer shook his head, trying to dislodge the fog in his brain. He found his memories of the last…however long it had been fading, slipping through his grasp like a half-remembered dream. Even so, Lacplesis knew in his heart that it had all been real. He might not remember exactly what had transpired, but he knew that something portentous had occurred. One thing he was sure of, despite everything, was that the snares of a wicked woman might be deadly, but the strength of a good woman was a power to be treasured. I mean, the same could be said of humans in general, but Lacplesis’ mind was very much focused on the duality of Spindala and Laimdota. To himself, he swore to be wary of the former and to fight to be worthy of the latter.
Dusting off the last flecks of the stone that had encased him along with any lingering doubts, he began his slow climb along the banks of the Perse, a tributary of the mighty Daugava. As he traveled, he soon spied a crowd climbing into a boat on the river. It was clear that they were trying to cross the swiftly racing waters and, to Lacplesis’ trained eye, it was just as clear that none of them had the strength of arm to pull the oar. If they pushed off shore, they would all surely be swept away and dashed against the rocks to drown. Having just moments ago vowed to become a valorous hero doing mighty deeds, he hurried towards the boat. If they had room for one more, he would row the damned thing all by himself.
The people were glad to have the assistance of this clearly strapping young lad with his mighty thews. They welcomed him aboard and handed him the oar. Once everyone was settled, they pushed off and the Bearslayer dipped the oar into the raging river with a mighty stroke. Perhaps too mighty, as it turned out. Something snapped in his hands and he found himself holding only half an oar. It had broken off under the strain, leaving them now adrift, tossed without direction or control down the seething waters. The people screamed, certain that death was at hand.
With a frustrated snort, Lacplesis tossed the useless length of broken wood away and began to row with his bare hands. This is not a recommended technique as with any mere mortal, it’s pretty much useless. Fortunately, Lacplesis was no mere mortal and so he was able to force the boat across the roaring waves with pure grit and determination, landing his passengers safely ashore on the other side of the Daugava. Wide eyed, the people cheered Lacplesis’ heroism and quick thinking as well as his incredible feat of strength.
One young man in particular was struck by the power of the Bearslayer. “That was something else, friend. It’s good to meet you – I am called Koknesis, which means ‘mighty youth’. The locals named me that after they saw me hauling massive logs from the forest on my shoulder all by myself. I’ve been helping the locals to build a fortress here where the Perse flows into the Daugava. Many dangers lurk in those woods, and many foes threaten the people here. I don’t think I’ve seen you around these parts. Tell me about yourself, brave stranger!”
Lacplesis made a friendly bow to his new buddy and introduced himself in turn. He explained that he was headed to Aizkraukle in order to train in the arts of the hero. Koknesis had heard tell of the great school of Burtnieks and thought that perhaps he too ought to go and learn how to be a true warrior so that he could come back here and defend his people. Lacplesis thought this a fine idea, happy to have a companion on the long ride to the school. Thus was it decided and thus did Lacplesis and Koknesis become friends and allies.
The dynamic duo’s first destination was of course Aizkrauklis’ castle, since his daughter was, you know, an evil witch who tried to have him killed. When Spindala looked out of her window the next day and saw Lacplesis walking towards the main entrance instead of, you know, being dead, she freaked out a little. She went to her father and, pretending not to feel well, asked that she be allowed to rest in her chambers while the lord received their approaching guests alone. For his part, Lacplesis was perfectly happy to not have to deal with that evil witch on this trip. He just wanted to go to his room, get his stuff that was still waiting for him since he had nearly been killed in the night, and get the fuck out of Dodge.
Old Aizkrauklis was the only one who didn’t know what had happened. He quite liked the strapping young hero and was excited to meet the hero’s new almost as strapping friend. He was disappointed to hear that Lacplesis and Koknesis had no desire to stay the night but were ready to set out and continue on their merry way, but he was a good host and so he had horses saddles and waiting for the pair in the courtyard. The old lord waved sadly as the two young men rode away.
From her high room, cruel Spindala also watched them go with a lot less sadless. No, the lord’s lovely daughter was furious at the Bearslayer’s escape from what should have been certain death. He had violated her coven’s unholy rites and lived to tell the tale. Worse, his survival could bode ill for her place in that wicked group of literal Devil-worshippers. Hateful eyes watched the two men ride away and spite filled her heart. To their retreating backs, Spindala vowed that her revenge would follow him east.
The two men had no idea that vengeance was being sworn against them and so rode off in peace. With the help of Koknesis, a local who actually knew the paths and trails, they were able to reach Burtniek’s castle before sundown. The lord of the castle, old Burtniek himself, came down to see the two young men riding into his courtyard, asking just who the fuck they thought they were, coming here without warning or invitation. Lacplesis stepped forward, introducing himself and his companion and, more importantly, sharing his father’s words about being boyhood friends with Burtniek. That did the trick. As always, it’s not about how good you are, it’s about who you know. Lacplesis and Koknesis were officially pupils at the school of heroing!
Thus, Lacplesis has finally managed to achieve his first goal on his hero quest with quite a bit more difficulty than initially seemed likely. He had a pretty significant diversion on his quest to (checks notes) go to school, but he’s at least made it, 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 pet monster is the pukis.
In a lot of European folklore, witches and sorcerers come as a packaged deal with their animal familiar. In popular imaginations, these familiars are usually black cats, but Latvian magic-wielders took it to a whole nother level. Many were said to use toads and snakes to go out and suck all of the milk from the udders of local cows. They would then hop and slither back to the witch or sorcerer and vomit the milk back up on command, which is pretty gross. Others knocked it up a notch with their own personal dragon, the pukis. Also known as a puk or puky, your typical pukis is a small four-footed dragon that is bound to a particular house or individual. If you’re a fan of Discworld, imagine a slightly less explosive swamp dragon who’s also a house spirit like the domovoi of Episode 18A.
For those who don’t know the reference, imagine a medium-sized, grumpy cat with an easily offended ego and a penchant for thievery. In some tales, they could even speak. The pukis loved nothing more than sneaking into other people’s homes and stealing grain or riches. If you treated your house dragon well, the pukis would bring these ill-gotten gains back to you. If you didn’t, they would punish you. Some of these two-foot long dragons had wings, and some didn’t, but nearly all of them were said to have a fiery tail stretching out behind them. One theory is that meteorites blazing through the night sky are the origin of the pukis tale (along with some healthy jealousy of a neighbor who seems to be doing just a bit too well for themselves).
So what exactly is involved in the care and feeding of your own personal pukis? To gain the trust of your dragon, you first had to get them their own room and make sure that no one but yourself was allowed to enter, which makes for great conversation with house guests. You can’t go in there because my pet dragon lives in that room and he doesn’t like strangers. It’s for your own protection and definitely not because I don’t actually have a pukis. Second, you had to make sure and give them the first bite of every meal you had. Third and perhaps most important, you had to make your pukis feel loved and revered. If they felt you weren’t treating them like the magical beings they literally were, they might just burn your house down to a pile of ash and cinder. So yeah, it’s basically a large, grumpy, flying, fire-wielding cat that can yell at you with actual words. So why do I still desperately want one?
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, Odin is going to do some sneaky Odin shit. You’ll discover that younger brothers are assholes, that strangers can’t be trusted, and that flames are not your friend. Then, in Gods and Monsters, the gods are going to trade people like some terrible game of Red Rover. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.