435: Medieval Knights: Fifty Shades of Graelent

Quick disclaimer, there are some, let's call them, adult situations in today's story. One of them right from the jump. As usual, we're not explicit, but if that's a concern to you or anyone else you might be listening with, please see the post on MythPodcast.com. This week, on Myths and Legends, it's the story of Sir Grayland from Bretton Folklore. We'll see that everyone has a plan for their life until they follow a magical deer into a forest and find a secret fairy bath, and that love can't be bought. If it's with a lot of money and nice horses, then apparently yes it can. The great of this time is what happens when a sick bear eats too much dirt. This is Myths and Legends, episode 435, 50 Shades of Grayland. 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 listening. Today's story is from a Bretton lay, dated to the 1300s. Bretton meaning from Brittany, a region of modern-day France that comprises the peninsula that points out in the direction of Cornwall. Brittany is one of the six Celtic nations. A list it joins with the whole of Ireland, Scotland, the Isle of Man, Wales, and Cornwall. As such, Brittany has a distinct cultural identity and language, though its language is classified as critically endangered by UNESCO. Bretton Lays are a specific type of medieval rhymed romance story, which are related, at least in spirit, to Arthurian legend. Today's story is not related to King Arthur, but you can definitely see the influences and there are stories that are very closely related. Anyway, sorry for the long intro. Today we'll jump in with the story of Sir Grayland, who is not jumping into battle. That might actually be a more comfortable situation for him, because he has just been summoned by the Queen, who has a very specific request. Come here, Sir Grayland, the Queen said, reclining on a fur rug before a fire. During a dress with a calculated dip and curve, she traced the lip of the goblet she wasn't drinking out of, as her eyes traced the form of Sir Grayland. The knight walked into the room. You can just toss your cloak anywhere, it's warm in here, maybe too warm? The Queen said, unbuttoning the top button by her neck. Where are your ladies? Sir Grayland asked, letting the fur of his cloak pool and leaving his boots next to it. Oh, they are far from here, on an errand in a nearby village, one that will take them all night long, the Queen said, and then bit her lip. Seems like kind of an inconvenience, though. Like your part, I mean, who's going to get you your stuff? Not the king, right? Grayland asked, walking closer to the fire. No, no furniture at all in this room, just a wide, flat, soft surface. Looks like he was sitting crisscross applesauce, though that always did kind of hurt his back. No, my dear knight, the war has taken the king far from here too, and maybe a fortnight until I see him again. I, well, we are alone, she said, butting her lip again, and looking him up and down, also again. That seems like a big oversight, you're the Queen and we are at war, it's a little dangerous, actually, Grayland noted, accepting the goblet from the Queen and sipping at the wine. Ooh, danger makes me feel excited, and I do feel overlooked, like I have needs that aren't being met. Seeing you on the battlefield the other day, it awakened these, well, I don't want to talk about war, I want to talk about love. Is your heart set on any maid or dame, or could you help me meet my needs? She flipped her hair back, revealing the nape of her neck. My lady, Sir Grayland laughed, I love no woman, love is a serious business, not a jest, think about it. Out of 500 people who utter the word love, only one can spell the first letter of its name, and that's not just because these are the early middle ages and literacy rates are pretty low, though probably not as low as the average person might think in, say, the 1920s, what I'm getting around to saying is that love requires more than just affection, it requires chastity of thought, word, and deed. If one lover is loyal, but the other is not, love is slain. Love means truth and loyalty along with the sweetness of the act. And because of this, I dare not meddle with so high a matter. Reclining with a smile, Grayland quickly realized he was doing crisscross applesauce and nearly fell backwards. Sir Grayland, the queen said, her sharp exhale punctuating his name, I have never felt love or loyalty to my lord, your king. Let me just cut right to it. I want to lie with you. Right now, right here on this carpet, maybe in the chair, probably multiple times. Grayland's V8 palm slap on his forehead and his chuckle bounced off the stone walls around them. Boy was his face red. He was really connecting a lot of dots here, the fire, the soft rug, the extremely specific and direct proposition that will probably require a content warning. Thank you so much, but no thanks. She mentioned a chair though, was there a chair? His back was killing him after all the killing he had to do that day in heavy armor. You don't want to? The queen said as she drew her clothing close to her and sat up. Oh, I'm not saying that. There's some obvious rapport we have and you are very attractive. But I did just mention how I value loyalty and honesty and engaging in such acts with you would actively go against my oaths to my king. The spirit of the oath if not the letter of it. For obvious reasons it didn't get so specific. Leaning back on his reddening palms, Grayland asked if they could get that chair in here. He didn't know if she ever threw out her lower back, but it was not a fun experience. I'm going to let you take your leave of me, Sir Grayland. The queen stood, creaking to his own feet. Grayland nodded, cool. There was a handshake that Sir Grayland thought was an appropriate way to end that particular type of rendezvous. And then he found the king's chamberlain at his elbow. Low murmurs from the servant about how not even a priest, however holy, would not lose heaven in the queen's eyes led Sir Grayland to his waiting horse outside. Sir Grayland's squire unwrapped. Another costly perfume. It's from her, my lord, he said. Can a man go a day without getting a gift worth thousands of 2026 US dollars from a beautiful queen who wants to have an affair with him? Sir Grayland shouted, slamming his fists down on the table. He took a deep breath. All right, all right, count to four. Okay. Grayland ordered his squire to go dump the cologne out in the moat. The squire set the bottle of cologne down. He had to ask, was his boss aware of the concept of courtly love? In the way that I love my king's court and would do anything to support and protect him? Grayland's voice grew in pitch and also uncertainty. In a way, yes, but in another much more specific way, no, the squire said. And then explained medieval romance literature, or as they called it in this time, romance literature, there was sort of a formalized concept of courtly love, where a particular knight would devote himself emotionally, spiritually, and sometimes physically to a noble woman who was married, older, and of higher social rank than him. The love made the knight better, braver, and more virtuous. If it was consummated, it was in secret, and the longing and suffering made the knight a finer man. You see, champ, the squire spun the chair around and straddled the back of it. Marriage is between nobles. They're not for love. They're for politics. So if you chose to serve your queen in this way, you're actually fulfilling a vital service to the realm, and you're not competing with her marriage, but existing alongside it. So to honor the king, I need to cuckold him, Graylent said. When you say it like that, it sounds bad, the squire scowled. That's because it is bad, Graylent rejoined. This is medieval Europe, and we're all about the Bible. And while I haven't read it, I have had it read to me, and I feel like it's pretty specific about the adultery stuff. Also even without the Bible, honoring the king by having an affair with his wife, well, that feels pretty obviously contradictory. Go pour out the cologne in the moat. I know when you keep it, it's cologne, you smell great. No one ever smells great here. Letting at a deep sigh, the squire agreed. But okay, cards on the table. I did keep one from yesterday. So can I dump that one out and keep this one? This one is like a really nice sandalwood, and the citrus-based one from yesterday, it kind of interacts with my naturally sharp aromas. Sniffing the air, Graylent said, yeah, he smelled that now. Too many intense high notes, it was like the olfactory equivalent to the shower scene from Psycho. Okay. But be sure to do it in front of her window. Graylent called to the squire after he switched out the cologne. I just want to say, this is a bad idea and will have consequences. The squire replied before leaving. Sorry. The squire mouthed to the queen with a grimace as he dumped the contents of the cologne bottle into the moat outside of her window. I don't think the opposite of love is hate. This indifference. Hate just shows that the person still has a very powerful emotional stake in your life, which is why the queen hated Sir Graylent. There was a groan from the hallway behind her. Barreling in, the king took no notice of his wife and just sat down, lost in thought. War. War never changes. Sorry, I had something in my throat. War never changes. It is so expensive. Every campaign. Half the time I can't even remember why we're fighting these guys, but we won't be if I can't free up some dinars from the budget. An idea grew in the queen's mind. If Sir Graylent wouldn't give her his love, she would have to purchase it. What if you stopped paying your knights? The queen asked. The king chuckled. I've heard the history of Rome podcast. It's well, there's this guy in the next townover who tells you the history of the Roman Empire, but you have to let him throw his empty P pods at you while he does it. He's so good that you don't even notice it after a while, but not paying the military well. That's a nice way to have whatever our version of the Praetorian Guard is knife me and elevate a new leader. Hmm, you're so wise. What about Sir Graylent? She asked. My most loyal, faithful knight. The king asked that seems like it would be sending the wrong message. You could fix your shortfall and like you said, he's so loyal and faithful that he would never revolt. The queen noted not adding that by paying his own soldiers without recompense from the crown, it would be weeks until he was destitute. Maybe he would rethink that loyalty to the king or better yet, do what he had to do to survive. The king thought about it. Yes. Yes, that would work. I could kiss you. The king said, standing frozen for a moment before breaking into a laugh, just kidding, smushing mouths together like that. It's gross. Couties, am I right? Fist bump. All right, love you. With that, the king clomped off to tell his centurial about the change in payment and the queen sat back to count the days before Sir Graylent would be groveling on the floor before her, which she didn't think she was into. But now that the thought was in her head, she didn't hate it. We'll see if actions do in fact have consequences, but that will be right after this. 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Sir Grayland looked up from sharpening his blade. We had to let him go because no money. The squire cried out. So I'm the guy now. Honestly, I'm like a dog trying to churn butter. I have no idea what I'm doing. Like the dog, I've seen this done before, but it makes no sense to me. And I'm frightened and confused. Sir Grayland rolled his eyes and stood. Okay, he would take a look. What could the squire tell him? Red numbers equals bad. The little stabby straight line next to the numbers means less than zero amounts. And there are a lot of both of those things. The squire pointed. Good boy. Grayland said, tussling the squire's hair and glancing down. I know that seems pretty disrespectful, but I'm just playing off the dog comment you made from earlier. But that is a good start. And it's really cool that you're using what you know to connect several disparate pieces to make sense of the whole. Great work. The books, though, are completely terrible. According to this, we are utterly destitute. Like today, right now, that's extremely specific and bad. It was. But the squire had a solution. No, I won't. Sir Grayland stood. Beyond it being wrong, she engineered this and I won't let her win. The next few weeks were challenging for Sir Grayland. Uninforming his men that he had no means with which to pay them, they scattered among the other night's forces here and there until all Grayland had left was a couple horses and his squire. The squire stayed with him because even with his stipend gone, he didn't want to switch advisors this close to graduation. And Sir Grayland still had a roof over his head, staying with a Burgess who had once been the friend of his father, but was now traveling to like Rome or something. He still had a horse in the stables, but Grayland would soon need to sell him in order to stay alive. So Grayland went for one last ride on his trusty horse before he, too, would fall prey to the Queen's scheming. Sir Grayland's horse trotted mindlessly into the forest to get out of the May Breton sun and he was roused from his morose by a sound. A heart, a deer, but a fancy name for a deer. This one was completely white. Grayland checked his saddlebags. He had a bow and enough arrows. Maybe this was dinner. When trying to get a good vantage point on the heart, he apparently spooked it because it bolted. Grayland followed close after. Now, a white deer leading you deep into the forest is a trope for a reason. Basically, if you're walking or riding into the woods and you spot a white deer, you follow that deer. Worst case scenario, you either get taken to or from a dreamland of magic, or you meet a family-friendly fawn in a red scarf that looks like James McAvoy. We'll never know what might have happened if Grayland kept following the white stag because unlike Narnia, this is not the family-friendly version and he was distracted by the naked women. Yeah. Letting the heart go, Grayland turned his eyes to a different type of frolicking, the women who were getting undressed for the bath in the woods. It's not a good look when your protagonist shimmies forward in the leaves to get a good look at the young women bathing. If you were hopeful that this was as bad as it gets, yeah, me too. It adds some facets to Sir Grayland because you might have been tempted to see him as sort of a lawful good paladin, the D&D class, because it seemed like Sir Grayland was advocating for respect and autonomy when he did not accept his queen's proposition. Obviously, though, it seems more like his moral compasses respect for Grayland's autonomy. When that coercion was being forced on him, it was an injustice. When he could force it on someone else, well, that's just his right. Spying the woman he perceived to be the most beautiful, he rose, stepped from the bushes, and picked up her dress and mantle. The two other ones shrieked and, covering themselves, went to their own clothes and ran off. Their leader, the one that remained in the water, floated unimpressed. Grayland, put my raiment down, she said. It will profit you nothing to carry it away and leave me naked, or at the very least return my dress. You can sell my mantle and it will bring you a little money. Focusing on the wrong things here, Grayland was offended that she would imply he was some merchant's son, a huckster to sell mantles at a booth. He would actually be in a much better spot financially if he was. He is revealing himself to us, though, because he takes more offense that she would imply that he's a lower class than shame that he's holding a woman's clothes hostage. Saying that he was guarding her clothes, he beckoned her to come from the pool just to talk. He just wanted to talk. She responded that she would not trust herself to his hand because he might seize upon her. He took a lot of offense at this, you know, for someone trying to coerce someone else to walk to them naked. And he didn't just want to talk, but the story makes this seem more complicated than it appears initially. After she emerged from the water, he did give her clothes back, but she stayed. To talk. The story, as it's written, clumsily cuts away. In the conversation that takes place between the characters, the lady reveals to us that hours had passed, and it was now well into the afternoon. What were they doing for all that time after she, quote, knew him worthy of her love and kissed him softly? Guess we'll never know. She revealed two things. One, she actually set the whole scene up with the stag and the bathing, so she wanted him to do all that. So that was apparently okay. Quick sidebar, this is some pretty convenient retconning, and just because she manipulated him into being there, she didn't make him be, you know, a bad version of himself. She just knew he would, which is… better? Anyway, onto the second thing that she revealed. She loved him, and knew that Graylint loved her. And they could keep this whole thing going, but no one must ever know. There are a lot of life lessons packed into the scene. Don't force people to be naked in front of you. Also, if someone says you're their friend slash lover, but don't ever tell anyone about the relationship or they'll disappear forever, that's also not good. That person is using you, but they're also ashamed of you. And she did seem to be. She laughed at him initially because, even as a knight, he was over-bold to seek to ally himself with someone of her lineage. We have to amend Graylint's moral code again, because apparently we can cross out the respect part. At least the self-respect part. Because he was very down for being her secret boyfriend. Mainly because he really liked her, and all those hours they just spent doing who knows what. But also for the cash. For his silence, she would fill his purse with dinners, and clothe him in silk. I'm not gonna both sides this, because I still think the coercion part was worse, even if it was part of this fairy woman's master plan to get him. It's also pretty degrading to treat someone like she's treating Sir Graylint. But like I said, Graylint seems to be okay with it. Though when I worked in research, we couldn't highlight the money for compensation for research participants because that in itself could be a form of coercion. And this woman did wait until Graylint was financially destitute to send the White Heart. After more secret kissing, Graylint mounted his horse and rode from the forest. It was at the forest's edge that he met someone unexpected. Who is he? The squire pointed when he returned to the house of the Burgess to find someone sitting in his spot on the floor. I am a varlotte. I have entered my lord's service. The man turned with a smile. He went back to staring at the wall. I met him in the woods. He has entered my service, Sir Graylint said. He's way too old to be a page, the squire looked the man over. Then he's my new steward, Sir Graylint said. He manages the money. What money? We were out of money. I just spent the morning trying to catch rabbits so we don't have to eat our boots, the squire said. The new guy took a look at the books and it turns out we have a lot more money. And it turns out we have a lot more money than we thought, so yeah. Sir Graylint took a big bite of his greasy turkey leg, which he was surprised to find he was holding. If the squire wanted to make himself useful, he could go try to get all those old knights back. If he couldn't, he should just go around looking for knights who were having a hard time. Knights like you know who were impoverished. Knights but just barely. You know like a knight that sleeps and hedges. A hedged nut the squire was about to ask but Sir Graylint cut him off. Nope, cannot say that. Not a thing except in a very specific fictional universe and there is a registered trademark for that term. So, knight who sleeps and hedges, that's the minimum safe distance for that. So that's what the squire did. After having told everyone earlier in the week that they were out of money, he now had to tell everyone that there was an accounting error, but a good accounting error, and they actually had a ton of money. Very rarely does it ever go in that direction. He went to the pubs and inns, the fields and the hedges. He invited all of them back to the house where they joined Sir Graylint's service, got goodly gifts, and were richly apparel. And he comforted them with instruments of music in all manner of mirth, as the story says. I guess we're hitting the pause button on the war too, because for the next year, Graylint just chilled out. His secret fairy girlfriend would arrive when she wanted to. She was invisible to everyone but him, and they, quote, would play together all day, and she would lay softly at his side by night. Graylint would ride to tournaments and earn esteem, and all the while the varlant would keep his purse full and earn the ire of the squire by just sitting there and staring at the wall all day. What was even up with that guy? This went on until the feast of Pentecost. How hot is my wife, am I right? Everyone, everyone, come look at how hot my wife is. The king said to the crowd of knights and other nobles. The feast was over and the men had eaten and drunk, quote, the whole day, and wore merry. So the king called his queen to him, told her to put off her royal robes, and stand forth for all of his buds to see. Now Abirah, this seems like it would be degrading for the queen. And it was. It's an element in some stories from Europe at this time, where the king would put his wife on display and listen to his men praise her. It's also in the Bible in the Book of Esther, where a queen was removed for not putting herself on display like this. Like a lot of stories, we're not privy to how the queen felt. Come on, let's hear how everyone agrees my wife is better looking than any other woman Anyone here knows or has known or has existed throughout history or time or will ever exist. Don't worry boys, your wives will never know, it's just us and the officials scribe to take down everyone's answers. The king said and took another drink. So one by one, the nobles degraded themselves by offering higher and more descriptive praise of the queen. Shameful, Sir Graylent said to himself, then stepped back and reinserted himself in line behind the guys who had already gone. Why did you say shameful? One of his fellow knights spun. I didn't, Graylent shook his head. Yeah, you did. The knight looked him up and down. Hey, wait, you weren't standing there before. That was the Baron who said all the weird stuff about the queen's elbows. Elbow guys, cheeks and forehead nearly caught on fire with how quickly they warmed. Shut up, I'll give you money, Sir Graylent hissed. I'm a medieval noble, I'm already rich. And if I need to explain this to my wife and mistress, then you do too. King, the knight wind, shooting up his hand before pointing at Graylent. King, he didn't go. Sir Graylent's trying to get out of objectifying your wife. The king looked closely Graylent. That's a name I've not heard in a long time. A long time. Wait, no, that's, it's only been like 14 months. Still, Sir Graylent, what do you say? Beneath the sky, is there a lovelier queen than mine? Sire, Sir Graylent stepped forward. Hark into my words, in all the world, no man of your lineage does so shameful a deed as this. You make your wife show upon a stage. You force your lords to praise her. Looking to the ground, the king seemed to feel small, dirty. The barons and the other nobles. Having someone put words to this degradation. They stood taller like it gave them strength. They should all be as strong and as brave as Sir Graylent, willing to speak the truth to power and righteously call out shameful things like this. Then Graylent continued. You order them to lie, Graylent said. The men looked at each other. Wait, what? You make them say the sun does not shine upon her pier. One man will tell the truth to your face and say that very easily can be found a more attractive woman than her. Sir Graylent declared. This quick turn allowed the king to press that shame back down and bottle it up. And weary the knights and barons that Sir Graylent wasn't standing up to the king for righteousness but because he knew of a more attractive woman. Glaring down at Sir Graylent, the king said if he preferred another dame, a daintier dame, then name the woman. Oh, I know a daintier dame. She's quote, 30 times more gracious than the queen. Graylent called. Even with the wider range of numerancy in the room, from stewards who handled their barons accounts to knights that slept in hedges, everyone knew that 30 times was a lot. It was also complete nonsense because how do you quantify graciousness enough to multiply it? But those were fighting words. The king stood frozen, maybe trying to do the maths, maybe not expecting this level of pushback. He didn't seem to know what to do. But the queen did. Sir Graylent was it? She smirked. You know what? Bring her here. Have her stand side by side with me. Should she prove more beautiful, Sir Graylent should go in peace. If not, let justice be done. The barons and knights were really tired of this whole thing. But the king, when presented with an option, any path forward said yes. That sounds amazing. Guards, guards. The handful of guys that waited around the edges of the room for the king to yell, guards, guards, and then point at someone, rushed in and tackled Sir Graylent. After they had him in irons, and they were leading him from the room just hoping the king would yell, guards, guards again. The king called out that Sir Graylent would go to prison. And Graylent would not issue forth from that prison until the knight had brought before him her whose beauty he praised so much. Calling out his response in anger, Sir Graylent turned. You don't see how that makes zero sense. I can't leave the prison until I go bring you the woman I praised. How am I supposed to bring you the woman I praised if I can't leave the prison? Hearing the anger in Graylent's voice and recoiling back on the throne as the man turned, the king pointed, guards, guards, he's resisting. And the guards dogpiled Graylent. We'll catch up with Graylent one year later, but that will, once again, be right after this. This episode is sponsored by BetterHelp. When the characters in our stories go on journeys, they're often not on the journey alone. The people with them, whether it's a nephew helping them to take on the Hydra or a helpful squire, might not be there at every turn, but they're there when the hero needs them. Makes you think about how life is a journey. It's not all easy. Some days feel really overwhelming. But having someone with you can make all the difference. I mean, if even Hercules didn't have to do it all on his own, I think we're okay asking for help too. May is Mental Health Awareness Month, and I've talked about how much of a good thing therapy has been in my life. If you're considering therapy, take a look at BetterHelp. They have qualified therapists, their therapists work according to a strict code of conduct, and they're fully licensed in the US, and BetterHelp does all the matching for you, so you can benefit from their over a decade of experience matching people with the right therapists. And people really love them. 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This bank holiday weekend, save up to £300, book in store over the phone or online at Virgin Atlantic holidays. Select routes for teas and seas visit virginatlantic.com at all protected. I think there may have been a mistake in your sentencing. The King said to Graylint one year later. Probably like a circuit court judge or something. Turns out you can't bring the woman here if you can't leave jail. Who could have seen that coming? You've been imprisoned unfairly for a year. These things happen, but the arc of justice is a long arc and it bends towards justice. I'm pretty sure that's how it goes. The guards guards guys watch the room to make sure everyone nodded thoughtfully at their King's aphoristic wisdom adjacent quote. You may have a year to get this beautiful woman to appear before us. If she doesn't and you try to leave we will hunt you down and the barons will render a verdict for your crime of saying someone was hotter than my wife but refusing to present evidence of said hotness in a court of law. The King waved his hand. Graylint was dismissed. Graylint disheveled and rank after wearing the same clothes for a year. Watched everyone step away from him as he walked home. His squire was all that was left in the house and after a brief hug the man seemed to immediately regret. The squire asked what happened was he free? For a year and then I will die. Graylint stared off into nowhere. You could leave or better yet you could bring your lady. The squire asked. You know the fairy lady that you play with all day? I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of any such lady in my life. Graylint looked on the squire with terror. Okay well don't worry you didn't tell me. It was easy enough to figure out. The door to your room is very thin and while I apparently can't hear her I could hear you. Also that steward was weird and it was obvious he was handing out fairy money. It turned to bark after you were arrested so everyone left. The squire asked when they would be heading out to find the fairy woman. Oh never Graylint said. Clapsing into a chair. I'm just going to sit here and feel sad for myself until I die after the king's men come for me. Over the next year Graylint would say that he did seek his lady but the squire only heard the wailing of his master each night through the sobs. Calling out for her. The squire had helped his boss weather a lot of emotional turbulence and recognized that sometimes people just need some time to mourn and process things before getting it together. That is not what this was. Where'd she get the money for a storyteller subscription? The squire walked in to see Graylint on the couch. I sold your horse I got snacks too if you want them. The knight said. Are you still there? The storyteller asked. Yes I'm here. Graylint said resume. The squire watched the storyteller as he handed his boss the mail. Wait pause Graylint said. Looking over the mail price update coming soon why not just tell me here and if it's an increase just call it that. I mean when do you ever lower your prices? The storyteller began reading an unrelated story. Don't auto read snippets from other stories and why do you make it so hard to get back to the story we were working on? You have to go find her. The squire stepped in between Graylint and the TV. The trouvère. The medieval French poet musician and yes I am proud of that. How do you know I won't go find her? It's only been like three weeks. Graylint said and popped a chunk of boar jerky in his mouth. It's been eleven months. The squire said. Okay whatever I'll get on it. He waved the squire away and told the TV to resume. I we don't feel good about this my king. The baron said to the king as the king sat in judgment over Sir Graylint. It had been two years and Sir Graylint was an honorable knight to have him executed for not presenting someone as hot as the queen when he said he knew someone as hot as the queen was. Well was that the type of land they wanted to live in? He has slandered the queen and has been disloyal. The king pounded his fist on the throne. How does a dishonest man such as him deal honestly with his lord because as the proverb tells hope not for friendship from the man who beats your dog. The barons looked to one another with a sour glance. Even the queen standing next to the king and over all of them seemed a little put off by the king's choice of words. The king nodded. Yes he saw the discomfort on their faces and that could only be from Sir Graylint's meanness. That description worked on multiple levels because Graylint knelt, bound before them all. Listless he stared at the ground, his greasy hair hanging over his face. His only baths in the past year came from when his squire managed to surprise him with a bucket of water. Do what you're going to do. She's not coming. Sir Graylint sighed. The king opened his mouth to give an order but a voice piped in from the back of the room. Breathless a page scrambled in. There was an urgent message for the king. Two young women damsels. They rode pal-freeze and desired an audience with his majesty. Give me ten minutes I just need to execute this guy for say my wife isn't hot or not as hot honestly it was a long time ago and I'm not completely sure anymore. The king said as he waved off the page but two voices seemed to sing out in unison from the back of the room. Saying their lady demanded a meeting with the king. Pulled to either side of the room the barons and knights in attendance parted for two women in shimmering white mantles who seemed to glide over the stones. Sensing that this was not going to go her way the queen slipped from the back of the room while the king nodded, gulped and said yep sure now now. The tall white pal-freeze hooves clicked on the floor and the room turned to look upon the rider. Sir Graylint still stooped dared himself to look to hope and it was her. Wearing a mantle worth the price of the castle she rode through she swept back the hood and the room was awestruck. Tear fell down Sir Graylint's cheek. She came for him. She acknowledged him. She loved him. Now it does take a bit of a sketchy turn. What with the men of the room being moved to comment on her beauty that no spot or blemish was visible on her body praising her face in person I mean it is the point of the rescue but it still feels weird. This mounting she walked up to the king and said she pleaded with him for Sir Graylint's life. He was hasty and foolish of tongue when he provoked the king to anger but he told the truth. She now invited the king to look upon her face and judge rightly. In an inversion of earlier events the whole room cried out in unison uncoerced that the lady was clearly superior to the queen and the king himself couldn't deny it. Bowing her head the lady turned mounted her palphry and walked from the hall. Looking back to the empty dais the king turned to Graylint and ordered the man unbound. It was true. He was acquitted of his charge of saying the queen wasn't the most attractive woman ever in the history of the world or who would ever exist. Graylint was free to go. The irons clattered to the ground. Graylint didn't thank the king but took off in a sprint after the palphry and his lady. He could already see her trotting through town. There was no way he was going to catch up. I saw them. I got him ready. Go! He heard from his right and turned to see his squire standing next to the big white horse, Graylint's horse. Putting one foot in the stirrup Graylint paused and then stepped down. Guards! Guards! Graylint yelled and in a moment one of the guards was over and looking for who to tackle. Sir Graylint, his newly reinstated lord, waved him over and pulled the sword from the side. Neil, Graylint told his squire, and dubbed the man a knight right there in front of the castle and all the barons and knights who rushed out to get a last look at Sir Graylint's lady witnessed the nighting. The squire, the knight, now rose, thanking Sir Graylint as the knight mounted his horse. The people on the street dove out of the way of Graylint's galloping horse as he pursued his lady. It had been days. Days of rioting and yet, no matter how fast he rode or how hard he pushed his horse, Graylint's lady remained the same distance in front of them. Finally, they came to a forest dark and deep and after a turn in the road, Graylint found her there. She and her ladies on their horses before a rushing river. You cannot follow anymore, the lady said. This is goodbye. She turned and rode her horse into the water. Sir Graylint stopped. Oh, I, yep, I suffered for two years for your love and never gave away our secret and I've been following you for days, but you're right. This is it. I'm just going to stop here because you said, like, four words. Push this horse toward the river. Graylint was big. His horse was bigger and the river larger and more violent than both. Soon, horse and rider struggled to keep their heads above water. Fighting to survive. Graylint didn't notice until the horse's hooves touched the shore he just left that his lady had taken his bridle and led him back. This river is the boundary between our worlds. The lady said, you cannot follow. I won't help you again. And if you try to cross, you will die. I love you, Sir Graylint replied. He could see the pain in her eyes, maybe because she loved him too, maybe because she knew that nothing would keep him from her. Not shame, not imprisonment, not even the threat of death. Seeing her on the far edge after a quick crossing, Graylint spurred his horse onward and they both splashed into the river. The current pulled Graylint from his horse halfway across. And as he bobbed, swiping at the water in vain, and managed precious moments above the surface, he saw his lady looking down on him in pity. Graylint fought against the water for as long as he could, until the darkness closed in on him. It took him months, but the night, Sir Graylint's former squire found the river. Once he discerned the path, it was hard not to find the spot of the attempted crossing. His master's horse stood on the near bank, its cries of anguish piercing the forest for miles. The river was wide and crossing looked impossible, but the night knew that if Graylint was on the side and his lady on the other, nothing would stop him from trying. The horse was mourning. Dismounting, the night went to the river's edge and tried to calm the beast, all while looking on the far bank. Then he spotted something, something that made him smile. His shoulders relaxed and he nodded to himself. The night found his way back to his horse. Leaving Graylint's horse on the bank of the river, the night rode off. On the far bank, almost out of view, Graylint's heavy wool cloak hung from a branch over boots with his spurs still attached. With his lady's help, her diving in after him and rescuing him, Graylint had made it to the other side and would live out his life in her land, the land of the fairy people. It's said that the horse couldn't be moved from that spot and stayed there in mourning for years until it died. Seem more from future trauma. Kind of mean for Graylint, or at least his lady to never go back for it if you ask me, but they didn't. Full disclosure, I added the bit about the squire becoming a knight. Even though it usually happened before a battle, a knight could knight a squire outside of a major ceremony. The squire is mentioned on and off throughout the story and I wanted a satisfying arc for him after sticking with Graylint for so long. I do think that this story ends on a nice note, with Graylint and the lady's love being reciprocal and out in the open, at least in her land. Granted, Graylint was like, love me or I'll die, so that's not great. But I don't think that's the takeaway. I want to believe that both of them knew that she would save him, but she had to be pushed to realize that in herself. And she was, in the original work, with her lady saying the equivalent of, seriously, you're gonna let him drown? That being said, there's a fine line between grand acts of devotion and threatening self-harm if someone doesn't capitulate to your demands. So as usual, this story firmly rests in the gray area of what a healthy relationship should look like. I do think it's interesting how, throughout the story, Graylint's values don't survive, even the briefest contact with his own feelings. He rejects the queen in courtly romance in the beginning, with his lofty speech, but essentially does that exact thing with a fairy noblewoman. Also, for all of his lofty talk about love being this beating of two hearts in harmony and two people winning the same things governed by truth and loyalty, his relationship with a fairy woman is anything but. It has to remain a complete secret, and when he doesn't even break the agreement, she abandons him for like two years. He's not being deceptive with the speech in the beginning, he actually believes that. But like all of us, he has to reconcile who he thinks he is and the person he actually turns out to be. Last time on the podcast, we're in Korean folklore with too many stories. Seriously, it's like five stories, but we'll learn what to do if someone swaps your horse with a bad one, how to nonchalantly tell your neighbor you've been creeping up and looking in their windows, how honey and worms can help sell people on your new alphabet. As you no doubt know, Myths and Legends has a book coming out. Well, it's a three book series actually, but the first is coming out in December, and it's available for pre-order now. It's a comprehensive telling of the King Arthur legend that makes it accessible and interesting while also staying true to almost a thousand years of writing and tradition. It's really cool seeing the early reactions of people who are like, wait, that is in the King Arthur legends? I had no idea. Anyway, if you're interested, and you did just listen to a whole episode about a night, so I think you might be interested, pre-ordering is a massive help. And there's a link in the show notes. Thank you so much. The creature this time is the Vitekush of the Monsi people in modern day Russia. We've had a number of water creatures on the show lately. It's just sort of worked out like that. And while the Vitekush is a water creature, it didn't start out that way. As we all know, bears and elk do not die normal deaths in the wild. I've never seen a dead bear in the wild. So that's enough for me to believe or at least acknowledge the possibility that it could maybe start eating dirt. That feels like the action of a sick and dying bear to be sure. But it will eat way more dirt than you'd think it would be capable of eating until water flows in the hole it creates from a nearby river or lake. And then the bear or elk will sink into the water and never be seen again in bear or elk form. Instead, they'll reemerge as something worse. Gorge down dirt and in the water, they'll grow long and tall. Emerging as a wooly creature that even hunched over stands at twice the height of a normal human and it has dead pale eyes on an expressionless face. The appearance of the Vitekush is said to be an omen of impending death. Impending, it seems, because they reach from the water and pull horses and riders into their lake. Every living thing is in danger from it and even birds fly around the lakes where the Vitekush lives. How do you know where a Vitekush lives? Well, all the deaths from people and animals being pulled into the water by a giant wooly monster are probably a good indication. Also, there are whirlpools. Lake food delivery apps have shown. People are pretty content to let their food come to them. Even if it is somewhat unreliable and slow. And the Vitekush is the same way. When it's feeling lazy, it'll just wait for whatever to get pulled into its whirlpool and drag down to the bottom of the lake. And that is how we get it. There is a very detailed description of how to kill this thing and one of the sources I found. And it goes as follows. You get a boat with a roof. You pack it with a mixture of gunpowder, salt, and pitch. And you put a smoldering stump in the back of it. But the Vitekush is smart. Or at least has eyes. It's not going to fall for an empty boat full of gunpowder with a slow burning stump wick. No. You have to put a scarecrow in it. Then it'll think it's just a normal person taking their collection of salt, pitch, gunpowder, and hot stumps out for a nice boat ride as we all do all the time. Then you shove that boat into the water. Hope your stump wick isn't even slightly too early or too late. And play the waiting game. When you score a perfect hit with the boat exploding after it enters the water, but not so long that the stump wick is snuffed out, then you can continue waiting around. But this time to listen to the cryptic groaning as it dies. Just be careful, both with the gunpowder beforehand, but also that you're not in that water when the boat goes off. Because with an explosion of that size, you'd have to be hundreds of meters away to avoid the possibly lethal internal damage from the shockwave underwater. It'd probably be a good thing to let everyone know the lake is closed that day, because you need to hunt monsters with exploding boats. I'm sure they'll understand. 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 Colmes. There's a list of even more of the music we used in the show notes. Thank you so much for listening, and we'll see you next time. Here at Lowe's. During Memorial Day at Lowe's, shop household must-haves for less. Save $80 on the Charbroil Performance Series 4 Burner Grill to chef up something special. Plus, get up to 45% off select major appliances to keep things fresh. 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