429: Slavic folklore: The Devilkin Made Me Do It

Quick disclaimer, one character puts another in a controlling, abusive situation. The story moves on from there, but it is present. Please see the post on MythPodcast.com for more info. This week, on Myths and Legends, we're in Slavic folklore. We'll see that if that creepy, controlling guy just wants to give you so much stuff for free, you might want to take a second look at that contract. And that if a stranger in a bar offers to solve all of your problems, and that stranger looks like a literal devil, it might actually be a great deal. The Creature this week is just making things difficult for people who want to cosplay as giants with spiky clubs and chains with actual human heads on them. This is Myths and Legends, episode 429, The Devilkin Made Me Do It. This is a podcast where we tell stories from mythology and folklore. Some are incredibly popular tales you might think you know, but with surprising origins. Others are stories that might be new to you, but are definitely worth a listen. This episode is something of a Slavic fairy tale. Set in Eastern Europe, it's not super concerned with place or history, but before we dive in, just a short note on some of the wording. The originals use prince in place of a ruling monarch, where the prince is the ruler and not the son of the ruler. I just went along with that. So, anywhere I say prince, it means basically king or czar. And real quickly, there's a character named Dardavan in there. But I introduced him as Dardavan, and going back over the episode, I guess I just flipped a coin every time I said the name because apparently I say both throughout. I noticed this way too late to fix it, and it would sound weird to add that many changes in post, so sorry if it's annoying. Though most people probably wouldn't have noticed it had I not mentioned it at the top of the episode. Anyway, Prince Mistaphor needs a pair of new shoes, and he's going to control a peasant boy's entire life just to get them. Gorya heard it was an honor to be chosen by the prince Gorya showed skill young with his fingers, with his mind he wanted to build bridges palaces the prince, though named Mistafor, needed a personal shoemaker, and the boy was a quick study. It was so long ago that he barely remembered his parents' faces, when he was offered a better life in the palace. There he joined a class of other boys who were skilled and smart, and though there was intense competition, and he learned to guard his boots he crafted lest a fellow students all find them, right before the master came through, he ascended. Goria, the boy, resolved to make the most of this honor, the one that he had been given to learn from the best shoemaker in the kingdom. But before long, he was the best shoemaker in the kingdom. Scowls from the other boys and the misty eyes of his master watched him the day the prince himself arrived and announced that Goria had won the position. Goria saw his personal workshop. It was twice the size of his masters, and his masters had been crammed with servants and students. This one had the greatest tools in the kingdom, bolts of soft leather and silks, all his. The Seneschal told him he had a fortnight. The prince would like a pair of shoes, and if Goria, the shoemaker, was wise, he would make more than one. Goria made twenty dozen pairs. Two hundred and forty pairs of shoes. There were so many shoes that the Seneschal had to designate a ballroom for the prince's choosing. The prince, Mistifor, was an enigma as he strode the aisles, his walking stick tapping the floor. His countenance soured any time Gorya tried to tell him the significance of this or that pair. How one exemplified the conventions, while the next defied them and elevated the craft. Gorya apologized, he should assume his prince already knew all that. He was, after all, the prince. A long sigh emanated from Prince Misty for when he found the end of the last row, and he nodded at the door. The guard outside closed it. I asked you to make shoes. How difficult is that for a shoemaker? These are not shoes. What are these? The prince asked. Gory had chuckled. They were shoes, though they were 240 pairs of shoes, 480 in all, three hours of sleep a night for two weeks, ringed his eyes underneath a greasy, scraggly mop of hair. The prince's walking stick stopped clicking on the stone floor. I save you. I bring you out of your disgusting little hovel with those stinking creatures you call parents. I give you a chance and a life and what do you do with that? You call me a liar. The prince's voice grew into a yell. Goria did not understand. These were perfect shoes. Sure, some of them might be a bit much, but there were plenty that were perfectly acceptable. The heavy end of the prince's walking stick cracked on Goria's cheekbone as the shoemaker fell to the floor. You call me a liar, and now I'm worthy of just your acceptable shoes? The prince smear Goria's blood on his chin as he raised the young man up to look him in the eye. The prince was merciful. Goria would have another chance, another and another, until he got it right. But his insolence and failure would have consequences. Gorya heard it was an honor to be beaten by the prince. At least, that's what the physician said as he set Gorya's arm. The last time, the last time. You know, when he gave the young man a wooden rod to bite down on. If the physician said anything the first three times he set a bone, Gorya hadn't heard it over his own screams. The prince, it seemed, was careful to avoid Goria's hands, fair and merciful as he was. When Goria walked from the infirmary, ten weeks later, with only a slight limp, he found the seneschal waiting. There was a disappointment, a shame in the man's eyes. Words that couldn't be spoken before didn't need to be spoken now. Both men understood the world in which they lived. Opening the door to the workshop, the Seneschal said he hoped Gorya had learned from his previous lesson. The prince desired a pair of shoes. Gorya did better, the prince communicated in both word and deed. Losing consciousness quickly this time, Gorya only had a few fractures, and he could leave the infirmary to get some good air to speed his recovery. Goria found the seneschal and asked for some payment for his services so he could go to the public house. And the seneschal only chuckled at payment. He received his payment. He had been educated by the best in the kingdom. He'd been fed and clothed. The job was the payment. Living in the house of the king was the payment. Feeling the cold, panic creep up his neck, Goria found his coat. There was no way out. Without money, he couldn't get much farther than a day from the city before the prince sent his men to recover his investment. Finding a single copper in his pocket, from his days at the master shoemaker's house, Goria could at least go for that drink at the pub. The infirmary's bitter wine hadn't done much for his tolerance, so he was only two ales in before his inhibition and his control slipped. Sobbing and sprawled face down on the table, Gorya said, I wish the devil would free me from this master of mine. Ringing out in front of him. Though Gorya hadn't seen or heard anyone approach, a voice asked, Why are you in such a passion, my good lad? Looking up, Gorya saw the well-dressed man in front of him. Fearing for a moment that this man, who was as out of place in a public house as Gorya himself was in the palace, was a spy or a chaperone. But Thiel got the better of him. Gorya said his master beat him. He was cruel. These gashes on his face were nothing compared to what he just endured ten weeks ago. The stranger took a seat and asked why anyone would beat Gorya. Gorya got to talking. He had no idea, but he knew there was no escape. I know your master, the stranger sighed. Gorya must be freed from his cruelty. And as recompense, Gorya would be married to Mistyfor's daughter, the princess. Gorya laughed and, wait, he didn't mention that his master was Mistyfor. And how would the stranger manage that anyway? Well, I'm a devilkin, the devil said. You called me and on your summons I came. I will serve you. Gorya blinked. He either needed to stop drinking because this was all ridiculous, or he needed to keep drinking because he was in the company of a devil. Come here, I'll prove it, the devil said, and took Gorya out into the daylight. Wait, how was it morning already? Lay down on the ground facing the sun, and then rise and take two steps backward, the devil king commanded. Gorya saw no harm in heeding this request. His boss was already the devil. what harm was it listening to an actual devil? He laid down, got up, took two steps backwards, and then did not recognize his feet. Or rather, his shoes and his pants. His coat? He was dressed like a prince. This is impossible, Goria marveled. Not if you're an actual devil, which I am, I've been very clear about that from the start, the devilkin said. Squinting, the devilkin marveled. He looked even more like Prince Dardavan, the princess's betrothed, than the devilkin had initially thought. Well, this would be easy. They'll know it's me, Gorya began to panic. The devilkin laughed. Oh, that was funny. No, no, they wouldn't. Not for several reasons, actually. One, no one even saw him before. Gorya, the shoemaker, he might be somebody where he comes from, but to the palace, he was nobody. He was invisible. Two, the minds of the rich and royal wouldn't let them even entertain the idea that a prince could actually be the shoemaker. Everything that made them special, which is nothing because they're not inherently special, would evaporate if they admitted to themselves that a shoemaker in a nice coat with a palace could just as easily be them. Palace? Gorya asked. And the devilkin clapped. That's right. Take three steps back. Gorya did, blinked, and a white marble palace was in front of him. As Gorya walked in the palace, his palace, musicians seated on either side of the hall began playing instruments, and he found the table laid out with costly food and drink. And the devilkin invited him to eat his fill. As he did, the devilkin asked, Why not just kill him? Gorya stopped eating. Who? Mistifor? He sighed. It had crossed his mind. If the devil king could fulfill this wish, he could easily fulfill another. But Gorya didn want the prince to die He didn want that weight And as terrible as he was the kingdom was at peace If he died all that could go away and people worse off than Gorya would suffer No, he just wanted freedom. Hmm, the devilkin said, and then made the nature of their agreement clear. He would do this for Gorya, but someday, he would ask something of Gorya, and Gorya must not refuse. Gorya, maybe wondering if it was a good idea to make a deal with an actual devil, thought about the alternative. He agreed. Just then, the devilkin turned as if he was listening to something on the wind. All right, he's gone. Who's gone? Gorya asked through a mouthful. You, the devilkin smiled. Prince Dardavan's ship had just sailed, on business in another city. It was time for Goria to get married. A disembodied voice told Goria to freeze. Goria stood in a familiar place, ready to jump out of his skin, knowing that at any moment he would be recognized and, best case scenario, beaten to within an inch of his life and then forced back to work. You're thinking like a kind-hearted peasant, the voice said. With empathy, you are rich and powerful now. Goria might take his horse to the stables and make small talk with the grooms. Prince Dardavan stands in the courtyard, coughs, stamps his foot, and berates the first servant who comes to help him. We talked about this. I am so sorry, my lord. The groom rushed to grab the horse's bridle. Oh, you, Goria pointed and growled. You, your shirt is tucked into your underwear and you have food in your teeth. Prince Dardavan growled and walked away. Okay, when it comes to berating, that was, yes, pointing out bad things, but it really was just helpful information. You need to get better at this, the voice said. If one of your household servants introduces himself as Pertushkin, that's me. And when the time comes, beat me and don't hold back. These people love asserting the illusion of their innate superiority through random violence. The prince, Mistaphor, Goria's boss, strode out. The captain of his guard thundered next to him. I don't care how you do it, just find him. Don't touch his eyes or hands, but do whatever else you want. He doesn't need his legs to make shoes. The prince grumbled before turning to Goria, a.k.a. Dardavan. With a smile. It was always so wonderful to see his future son-in-law, but he thought the man was half a world away on business. What was he doing back so soon? Goria froze. Here he was, looking his boss square in the eye, not cowering from the floor, but as an equal. In Mistyfore, the prince had no idea who he was. The devilkin hadn't changed his face at all to look like Dardavan. It was simply that Mistyfor wanted to believe the lie, and he did. And seeing this face, one that stood slightly below his own, not stone and severe, but obsequious, well, it filled Gorya with confidence. As the prince announced his arrival, it appeared to be the case for everyone else in the household, but they all believed he was Dardavon even though it was usually the case that whatever the prince declared to be reality was in fact reality even when pesky details like reality contradicted facts would not have you beaten and your family turned out of its house the prince however would the princess Dogada was a bit cold to him wary and watchful but with the type of man Dardavon was Gorya could hardly blame her. Remember, seat one, a voice said in his ear. Gorya shamelessly took the first seat, forcing Mistyfor, the prince, to take the second, and laughing that he was glad to honor his future son-in-law. The princess, though, rose, and asked if her father would come speak to her in a different room, away from Dardavan. Mistyfor chuckled that that was very rude. This man was her future husband. and she could say anything in front of him. Not responding to that statement, Dogada left the room. The prince apologized and rushed after her. We'll see what the princess knows, but that will be right after this. February is sneaky. It's short, sure, but so are the days. Yeah, it no longer gets dark at 5.30. It's 5.45 now. I still hate that if I remember I forgot something I needed for dinner, it's a cold, dark trip to the supermarket and dinner is delayed. And everyone, mainly me, is grumpy. That's why Home Chef is amazing. Fresh food delivered right to your door. Everything you need for a warm, comforting, easy meal. The recipes are super simple to follow. Even I can do it. And people really love it. Home Chef is rated number one by users of other meal kits for quality, convenience, value, taste, and recipe ease. And because you don't know what type of day you're going to have or dinner you're going to need, they have so many options. From Gordon Ramsay's restaurant quality recipes, their Home Chef culinary collection, classic meal kits, to express options, and a dedicated family menu. Plus, it's affordable. Home Chef customers save an average of $86 per month on groceries. For a limited time, Home Chef is offering my listeners 50% off and free shipping on your first box, plus free dessert for life. Go to HomeChef.com slash legends. That's HomeChef.com slash legends for 50% off your first box and free dessert for life. HomeChef.com slash legends. Must be an active subscriber to receive free dessert. The new year is here. that, I mean, if that's a surprise to you, then you should probably go get a calendar. It's almost March. I was wondering if you could buy calendars on Wayfair, and I looked it up, and it turns out, yes. They have every conceivable calendar that I could dream up, no matter your taste. I also asked Carissa, and it turns out that that's where we got our Hall calendar. Who knew? Not me, apparently. I was super excited when Wayfair wanted to work with us because we've been using them for years. We might have something from Wayfair in every room, and there's, of course, the guest room that I mentioned last time. Bed, tables, chair, done. It's no longer hanging over my head and I can move on to other areas. I think next up for us is the outside hardscape and fire pit area because we have one of those now and I want to think about warmer times. And I will say, unlike seemingly everywhere else, it seems very easy to shop on Wayfair and stick to a budget. Like for instance, I'm looking at the Abhipsa Acacia 5 person patio conversation sets with cushions. And the entire thing is, no joke, almost half the price of just the loveseat at another furniture place. I also sorted price high to low and found that you can go incredibly fancy on Wayfair if you want. Basically, they have everything your home needs in every taste for this season and when it comes to outdoor furniture, the season you're looking forward to. I cannot wait for it to stop snowing. Get organized, refreshed, and back on track this new year for way less. Head to Wayfair.com right now to shop all things home. That's W-A-Y-F-A-I-R.com. Wayfair. Every style, every home. That is not Dardavon, Dogata said. That is Goria, the shoemaker all your men are out looking for. Mr. Four said that that was ridiculous. Yes, it is ridiculous that you're letting your shoemaker sit at your table in the seat of honor and marry your daughter. Dogada crossed her arms. Mr. Four popped his head out the doorframe and squinted. He didn't see it. In the political fallout alone, if she was wrong, I'm not wrong, but I have a test, she said. Brown bread and white bread. Bring out both. If that Dardavan cuts the brown bread first, he is not Dardavan, who would only eat white bread. Mistyfor said, sure, okay. That was a very low possibility for embarrassment. He would order and observe. When the hot, steaming loaves were placed in front of Dardavan, he took his knife and cut a piece of brown bread. Mistyfor's eyes went to his daughter, who smiled and then looked to her father, urgently tilting her head with a look that said either, say something or just execute this guy. Prince Mistifor took a deep breath. My dear and honored son-in-law, Prince Dardavan, how is it that you cut so much brown bread and no white? He asked. It was awkward, yes, but it was a valid question. Dardavan seemed to freeze, eyes looking down and then the slightest, Briefest nod turned into a bigger one. Ah, yes, Dardavon laughed. Brown bread. Peasant food? You already know, don't you? Since you served it? Do I? Mistyfore felt equal parts rage and embarrassment for having treated Dardavon so kindly. Well, you served brown bread at the royal table, so of course you know my father's custom. Um, I had hoped to be quiet about it, but I suppose I can speak on it. Dardovan called for Pertushkin, his servant, who appeared with the bag. My father, as you know, was a particular man. He wasn't overly generous, but he did have his traditions. One of which was giving the first cut of brown bread to the beggars, Dardovan said. Placing the bread on the plate and handing it to Pertushkin. One piece of bread, what would that do? Princess Dugada laughed. Not much, my love. Not until he salted it, Dardavan nodded. The wrinkly little servant opened the bag and salted the bread with gold coins, pouring and piling them until the thick slice was completely covered. Pratushkin waved for some servants to go take the plate, and he would see to notifying the beggars of their future prince's generosity. It wasn't hard to collect them, and soon the table was summoned to the outer wall, where they watched a group of beggars pass around the plate, each taking a piece of gold, round and round, until the plate was empty. And then they tossed the bread to a stray dog. Too soft-hearted for my tastes, but the people sang his praises. Dardavon laughed. Of course, though, Prince Mistifor knew all this. Of course, the prince smiled. He just wanted the others to see for themselves. Okay, that was an obvious pivot, the princess, Dogada, said, when her father pulled her aside on the way back to the table. Not another word, Mr. Ford demanded, and they made their way back behind the group in awkward silence. Well, my future son-in-law, it has been a wonderful evening. May I show you to your room? Mr. Forrest. Gorya smiled. Certainly. Gorya felt a tinge of despair when they passed the hall of his workroom, but shook it off. As he was directed up to a marvelous wing he hadn't even been allowed to lay eyes on. A servant opened the door and Gorya's smile faded. No. No, no, no. The prince looked in and it was everything as he commanded. The room warm and comfortable had a bed and chairs next to a crackling fire but Gorya only pinched the bridge of his nose before calling yelling for Pertushkin The little servant scrambled and stood up straight but also somehow stooped to avoid eye contact. Yes, this is my room, Gorya pointed. Pertushkin began to tremble. Oh, oh no. Yeah, oh no. Gorya looked back to the little man. Where is my 300 pooed bed? I am so sorry, master. Petushkin dropped to the stones. You will be, Gorya replied, and wait for Petushkin to give the order, and then return. I did actually know that you slept on a bed that weighed, what, 3,500 pounds, and the prince said while Petushkin was gone, but you bring that with you? I don't. My servants do. I'm sure you too sleep in a bed that's weighed down by one and a half metric tons of gold and jewels, Gorya said, no other way to sleep. So I bring it with me. They are bringing it up, Pratushkin, a.k.a. the Devilkin, said when he returned. We never told them which room you'd be in, Mistyfor said. Please, Prince, you must have people who know what they should do yet fail to do it. I will be merciful, though. He will have another chance, Gorya said. Put his gloves on. and began by backhanding the devilkin across the face. Goria hated it, but the devilkin assured him that he did not feel pain the same way as humans and that this exterior was little different than a human getting a tear in their coat. It might not function as well, but it didn't hurt. By the time Goria finished and the same servants that carried in the 3,000-pound bed walked off and Petrushkin wiped the blood from his quickly swelling eye, Gorya thanked the prince. Pertushkin will stay with me should I need anything for the night, Gorya told the king, who offered to have his men bring a cot for the servant, but Gorya shook his head. No, since he has deprived me of my bed for a moment, I will deprive him of his for the night. He will sleep on the stones. Gorya paused for a moment, then broached the topic he said he had been thinking about all night. I know that we have the wedding planned for the following week, but I would like to move it up. to tomorrow. The prince's eyes almost fell out of his head. Well, no one was more excited than him to have Dardavon and the family, but tomorrow, there was so much that still had to be done and the guests were en route. Dardavon's own mother wouldn't even be there yet. Seeing the dampening expression on Goria's face, he waved his hands. Tomorrow, it was impossible, but it could be moved up. They would talk about it in the morning. Goria smiled. thanked his future father-in-law, and closed the door. As soon as it clicked shut, he breathed. Oh my gosh. Does someone know? Someone knows. Someone knows, the devilkin said. This was going to be a longer night than he thought, but it was okay. Gorya did well and could really think on his feet. The trap someone was laying for you only served to help you. It's not lost, the devilkin said. So what's next? What do we do? Remember? One more, the devilkin said, taking the basin of water and cleaning the human wounds on his human face. The orb, that's right, Gorya said. There was a knock at the door. Gorya waved for Petrushkin to go and answer it, and it was the princess, there with a dozen candles. She was holding the matches herself. She brought him all of his tapers that he liked for his room. Cordia grinned, rising up and telling his love that she knew him well, or he thought she did. The magic orb he had provided all the light he needed. Quote, it was more dazzling than a meteor in the sky. She blinked right, and this orb, he had it? Petrushkin, who had slipped out of the room only for a moment, but not to go to the ante room, but to Dardavan's bedside, on the ship, returned with a magical glowing orb Dardavan had, but the story won't address at all. Sybar, how much would it absolutely blow their minds to see one of those nightlights that just projects the scene on the ceiling? Anyway, he said goodnight to his betrothed, and smiled, and said he was looking forward to being her husband. As the door closed on Dogata, she stopped forcing a smile. Then she gasped when, turning, she found herself looking directly into her father's face. Stop doing this. You know about the magical orb we aren't going to address. You love Dardavon and his casual disregard for human life. Besides, the Alliance will help us. It will save us. And he is troublingly good at beating people. Like, I know I do it, but he elevates the form by nearly destroying it in his servants. Anyway, go to bed, Mistafor commanded. And he wouldn't hear anything else about Dardavon. and Goria. We'll see the princess make her final play at revealing the imposter, but that will be right after this. This episode is sponsored by BetterHelp. It's February, the month of, of course, heart-shaped boxes and flowers. It can be easy to think everyone has it all together in their love lives, because, well, we only live in our own heads looking out. But the truth is that we're all at different spots in our interpersonal journeys, and therapy can help you find your way. I've been in a relationship for going on 20 years now, and Carissa has definitely stuck by me and supported me and loved me through tough times. But for me, understanding my feelings and working through stuff and being the best version of myself is one of the best things I can do for our marriage. Anyway, we're all still figuring things out, and wherever you are in your journey, single, dating, married, that's exactly where you should be. It does help, though, to have some, well, help figuring things out. And that's where a licensed therapist can make all the difference. BetterHelp therapists work according to a strict code of conduct and are fully licensed in the U.S. And BetterHelp does the work to match you with a therapist. They've been doing this for over a decade now, so they usually get things right the first time. But if you need to change, no problem. You can switch at any time. And people love them. They have a rating of 4.9 stars out of 5, over 1.7 million reviews. So yeah, sign up and get 10% off at BetterHelp.com slash myths. That's BetterHelp.com slash myths. Ogata did not love Dardavan. She didn't love any of the suitors that had come for her. Dardavan was vain and stupid. He could be controlled. Sure, she would have to have some children, but with his travels and deep, abiding disinterest in anything that wasn't himself, her life would essentially be her own. This man, though, she didn't know this man. While she knew of him, he was a climber, one of the kids her father plucked from the worst parts of the city and trapped to work for him. But he not only made it out, but in a week's time would be her husband? Then he was only one knife in the dark, or a trip through the kitchen, and poisoned beef away from having power over all of them. This would not do. But what will you do? Her ladies-in-waiting asked. Mainly because they were paid to care intensely about whatever Princess Dogada wanted. The key is the orb. Princess Dogada paced through him. It has a backstory we're not going to address, but it is one of a kind. The bed, the clothes, they could all be fake. He can't fake this. If we can get it, we can prove he is not who he says he is. We? The ladies-in-waiting said. The orb, much like one of those nightlights for toddlers, had a sleep timer, where it would shut off and, around midnight, the room was completely dark. With only the soft breathing of Goria and his 3,000-pound bed, Princess Dogada was out in the hall listening, and commanded one of her ladies to go in there and get that orb. The lady, with the same inclination toward defiance as both the Seneschal and Goria, before his chance meeting with the devilkin, did as her mistress commanded. and it was only a few seconds later that the princess heard the gasp and the accusations. Oh shoot, we've been made, she whispered to the other ladies, and they took off back toward her room. Is it not a shame for you, pretty girl, to rob your future lord and master? You must leave me now a pledge for your conduct. he said, and then took my slipper and headdress. The lady described how Dardavan's servant had found her the moment she walked in the room, demanded those items, and then let her leave. First, don't call him that, he's not Dardavan, Dogada said, and second, she was disappointed by the woman's failure. The next one would have better luck. The ladies looked at each other, wondering about the words, next one, and each hoping it wasn't them. It wasn't them, for all but one of them. She, too, tried to sneak in the room around 1am and she, too, was caught by the little servant, who demanded her slipper, headdress, and jacket. Togada, who really should have realized she was following a very particular pattern, instead just came to the conclusion that all these young women failed because they weren't her. She was the princess and therefore better, if she wasn't a completely superior person in every way, why else would she be the princess? It almost made too much sense. No, if she wanted something done right, she would have to do it herself. Is it not a shame for your grace to contrive such wickedness? The servant hissed in the darkness. It is not becoming the daughter of so renowned a father to be plotting such tricks. Therefore, I must beg of you, fair lady, to leave me a pledge. Knowing how this went, and that she had no other option at this point if she, an unmarried princess was found in the room of a man, even her betrothed, it would be scandalous, even dangerous. She gave up her headdress, slippers, and dress, slipping back to her room without another word. I have a riddle for you, Prince Mistifor said to his future son-in-law the following day. At lunch. The devilkin had told Goria the prince would ask a riddle. But he didn't tell him he would have to wait all day for the setup. The talk of moving up the wedding had yielded nothing, with Mistifor continually pushing it back. So it had been something of an awkward few hours. Actually, I have one for you first, Goria said. Mistifor's eyebrows arched. Okay, great. The bad thing about being the most enthusiastic person when it came to riddles was that you were always asking everyone else riddles. Yes, please, he would love to do a riddle for once. Okay, here it is. I went to walk in your green meadows and caught three goats and stripped from each of them three skins, Coria said, and sipped his lunch wine. Mistyfor thought about it. That made no sense. Goats didn't have three skins. Okay, I'm getting the impression Mistyfor didn't actually like riddles. That he just liked knowing something other people didn't, and being the authority when it came to questions on that matter, because he pretty much gave up after, goats don't have three coats each. The most literal, most obviously incorrect interpretation of what Gorya said Are you sure you want to know Gorya asked Mr Four begged him for the answer And so Gorya summoned his servant Petushkin and asked him to bring the skins from the three goats Moments later three servants brought three chests in the courtyard where the prince and Gorya stood. Here are the goat skins, Gorya said and stepped back. Mistavor vaguely recognized what was in the first two chests. Women's dresses and stuff hardly seemed like even a metaphor for go- He froze. When he opened the third chest, recognizing it instantly. Where did you get this? He looked up with rage and terror. It was left in my room last night, Goria said. In light of that answer to the riddle, Goria would like to revisit the topic of moving up the marriage date. Do you still think he's Goria, the shoemaker? The prince asked of his daughter. She said, of course. So why was your dress left in his room? The prince watched her face. And it told him everything. She was obviously cagey. First denying and then saying something about his magic orb, which her dad really did not need to know. Well, whoever you think he is, you're marrying him. Today, the prince declared. The princess couldn't believe it. This was ridiculous. He was such an obvious fraud, and now he was extorting a marriage before the real Dardavon returned? The prince laughed. The real Dardavon? This is the real Dardavon. And if she truly felt he was a fraud, she shouldn't have gone and done what she did and forced their hand. So Goria, a.k.a. Dardavan, and the princess were married. The real Dardavan returned later in the week, for his wedding. He did so on foot, and alone, in clothes he purchased from a merchant on the way, because someone had run off with all of his servants, outfits, horse, and bed, somehow? And you think we're gonna fall for that, Goria? The prince laughed. Goria had been gone for a week, he should have stayed away. the audacity of the man to think he could come back and try a gambit like this. After the guards subdued Dardavan, they took him to his workshop, where, for months, he put up a spirited resistance to the prince's will, refusing to make any shoes at all, claiming that he doesn't know how to do that, what does all of this even mean, please someone help him, classic excuse. Eventually, Mistafor just got tired and sent him off to war, where he died, which is the actual ending in the story. But back in the timeline of our story, the next week, Gorya was walking through the gardens, alone, when a form appeared in front of him. It was the stranger from the inn. You have a debt to me, the devilkin said. Gorya nodded. He knew. Everything he had experienced over the past few days, that was more than he could have hoped for. He had been born a peasant, but he would die a prince. That's nice, but not before you fulfill your side of the agreement. The stranger cocked an eyebrow. That is my side, right? Gorya asked, I get to be a prince, but you get my soul? You drag me to hell? Why would I want your soul? The devilkin asked. That's what the fiddle contests are for now. I want to go home. To hell? Hell? Goria asked. What is with you and hell? No, the pond. Obviously, the devilkin said. Goria took a deep breath. Oh, okay, the pond. Wait, how was that obvious? The devilkin, it seems, used to live in a pond at the heart of the royal gardens. One day, without realizing it, a maiden washing linens dropped a ring into the pond. It must have had some holy, otherworldly power because it drove him from his home. Was it like Solomon's ring that binds demons? Goria asked as they circled the pond. The devilkin said he wished he'd get close enough to see, but it literally pained him, so he had no idea. He needed a member of the royal family who could drain that pond and pull out the ring so he could finally go home. It couldn't have been any of them, he gestured to the palace. Though they all have their vices and temptations, it had to be someone he knew he could trust to fulfill the other side of the bargain. It had to be Goria. Wait, so I just have to drain a pond and then I get to keep everything? Goria asked. No, no, like, eternity in hell? Well, first take out the ring and fill the pond back up. And the hell thing was, that was Goria's thing. That wasn't the devilkin's purview, but essentially, yeah. So that's what Goria did. He had the pond drained, took out the ring from the muck himself, and had it stored away in case he ever needed to ward off any devilkins. After that, he had it refilled. Then, one beautiful morning, Petushkin dragged a boat out, so he could row for Dardavan and Dogata. Please take a seat, Master Goria. Your Highness, Pertushkin gestured to the boat. It's a joke we have, Gorya said to his wife after he glared at Pertushkin, where he calls me by the guy you all thought was me, but who's actually down in the workshop and not making shoes, really kind of tarnishing his own legacy. Master Gorya, she knows, Pertushkin interrupted. Gorya turned to his wife, the princess. She nodded, yeah, almost immediately. But you still married me? Chose me? Gorya sat back, stunned. Nope, I tried to have you killed multiple times. Dardavon was a known quantity. You weren't. Still aren't, but you're better, she said. That was as close to an I love you Gorya was going to get anytime soon. So he shut up and took the win. Petushkin rode the pair out into the middle of the pond, remarking numerous times how he couldn't swim. And he was so excited for that trip he was planning later and all those future events on his calendar that he wouldn't go into but definitely existed. When they were finally settled, Petushkin looked down and slapped his forehead with a palm. Cushions! He forgot to set out the cushions, couldn't have their royal backsides on bare wood. Here, picking up the cushions, he stood. Turning with them in his hands, he began to wobble. Degada looked to Gorya and then Petrushkin, um that was all completely unnecessary movement he was rocking the boat himself she said as Gorya covered his mouth in mock panic and Petrushkin continued to treat the boat like a stairmaster he could sit down at any moment Petrushkin, no! Gorya reached forward and Petrushkin wobbled and then threw himself overboard Curse you, Pertushkin, for being so unsafe in the water when you previously stated you could not swim. Curse you! Gorya leaned over the boat and shook his fist. Looks like the servant Pertushkin has drowned. The princess sat back and crossed her arms. Gorya, still looking over the edge of the boat, said, The devil take him. I want him no longer. And then winked. It might have been his imagination, but it was as if the depths of the pond itself winked back. I saw that wink that you did, by the way, Princess Dugada said. We're not going to talk about whatever it was that just happened? I don't know what you mean. My servant drowned. It was sad. Coria picked up the oars. Hmm, yeah. He sure did, honey, she said. And they erode towards shore. And that's the end of our tale. We're told Gorya lived happily under the guise of Dardavon. I do like how this story plays with some tropes. The devilkin here is really just looking for a good man who will honor his agreement and help the devil king get home, and he doesn't actually harm Goria at all. It's also kind of funny to me that the princess knows it's him immediately, and it's so obvious to her, yet even with the continual reminder that, hey, this is the guy everyone is looking for and an obvious fraud, the prince still doesn't see it, and the princess plays, essentially, a Cassandra-type role. Next week, we're back in Finnish folklore, with the story of why you shouldn't pick up hitchhikers who are actual demons. Real quickly, if you'd like to support the show, we still have a membership thing on the site and Apple Podcasts. For way, way less than the price of a Lay's oven-baked potato chip shaped like the U.S. state of Ohio, you can get ad-free and bonus episodes that are objectively better than a $225 B-tier chip shaped like a C-tier state. Check out mythpodcast.com slash membership or find us on Apple Podcasts for more info on the membership. The creature this time is Jack and Irons, from Yorkshire, in the United Kingdom. If you see a giant walking the road with a spiky club, your first thought might be, hey, I don't want to mess with that guy. And you would be right, that should be your first thought. It also might be your last thought, and I know this might sound like I'm hating on people whose idea of fun is going on the North Yorkshire moors with a spiky club and waving it around, but if that is your idea of a good time, you know, everyone has their own things they like to do for fun and far be it from me to judge you, but you should be aware of the cultural context if you weren't already. It's complicated. If you go out and do so with the heads of your victims dangling from chains wrapped around your body, well, you've kind of crossed a line from someone who just enjoys swinging a spiky club around in the dark to kind of an actual monster, because that's what Jack and Irons wears, and at that point it kind of feels like you're making a very specific choice. I'll be real, I owned a sword once, and it was fun to swing around. I've never been like, hey, what if I then take this sword and then run up to people at night and enthusiastically show it to them, also while wearing a half dozen human heads? Well, the first part of that is questionable and ill-advised. It's definitely the second half that's the problem, because the heads invite the question of, are those real heads? Why do you possess human heads? How are they affixed onto the chain? Is it through the ears situation or a strong hair braid looped onto the chain? Also, probably the most pressing question, what about that open spot there? Am I next? All intense and overcommitted cosplayers aside, when it comes to Jack and Irons, yes, you will be next. You definitely want to run if you see a very large man with a spiky club wearing human heads out on the road at night, who might be a personification of the danger of the crossroads out in the middle of nowhere. But you also probably want to run from anyone excitedly showing you their spiked club and human head collection. That's a pretty solid rule just for life in general. That's it for this time. Myths and Legends is by Jason and Carissa Weiser. Our theme song is by Broke for Free, and the Creature of the Week music is by Steve Combs. There are links to even more of the music we used in the show notes. Thank you so much for listening, and we'll see you next time.