387: Slavic Folklore: Kind of Forgot About Vengeance (part 2 of 2)

This week on Myths and Legends, we're finishing the story of Bova from Slavic folklore.

We'll see that a life goal you decided on 10 minutes ago is a great reason to leave your family to the literal wolves.

And

that if someone gives you a letter to hand deliver to the father of the prince you just killed, maybe just mail it.

The creature this week is Sand Throwing Granny, a grandma who throws sand in people's faces.

This is Myths and Legends, episode 387.

Kind of forgot about vengeance.

This is a podcast where we tell stories from mythology and folklore.

Some are incredibly popular stories you might think you know, but with surprising origins.

Others are tales that might be new to you, but are definitely worth a listen.

Last week on the show, we met Bova.

Bova had a tough childhood.

His mom was married off to a man she despised and, when Bovo was three, conspired with her childhood crush to kill the father.

Bovo was raised in the dungeon but managed to escape when he learned his mother was trying to poison him.

He ended up in King Sansibri's kingdom, where he met Drushnevna.

King Sensibri was besieged by King Markobrune for Drushnevna's hand in marriage, which he agreed to give in order to not die.

They were then both attacked and captured by the son of Sultan Sultanovich.

Just then, Bovo woke up and and rushed out to battle.

They grow up so fast, Sultan Sultanovich said of his son.

I still remember the day we handed him off to the wet nurse to not see him again for 15 years.

Now he's besieging a city to marry the princess he captured.

Cats in the cradle.

Give me some good news about about my boy.

He get that princess he had his eye on?

Um

he's dead, my sultan.

The servant didn't want to look up.

Sultan Sultanovich reeled on his throne.

What?

The last missive from Armenia was so positive.

He had the king of the land in irons and he was marching toward the city.

Yep, and then he died.

One guy, the servant held up the letter, one extremely hot guy, massacred the whole army by himself and killed Leukoper.

Sultan held up his hand.

He

he was processing the death of his son.

Why is the physical attractiveness of his murderer relevant?

The scribe said he didn't know, but it was underlined three times, and hot was spelled with two T's, so

apparently relevant, I see.

Well, if that's all, It looks like I'm riding to Armenia to avenge my boy.

Sultan Sultanovich rose, but the servant said there was actually no need.

He, Bova, the murderer of the prince, was here.

Here?

Why?

I honestly have no idea.

It makes no sense.

He just walked in holding the letter that we just read that said that he killed your son and he totally wasn't sorry about it and he would do it again and enjoy it and stuff.

It keeps going on like this.

It looks like he was robbed in the desert on the way here.

And he wasn't wrong, either about Bova being there or about him being robbed.

Bova, after defeating the armies and rescuing the kings, was summoned to King Sinsebri's bedchamber late in the night when he thought the king was actually out on a celebratory hunting trip.

Weird.

The king was super adamant about him not turning on the light, and even though the king sounded like his chamberlain, Orlop, who hated Bova and his growing influence in the kingdom, Bova took the task seriously.

He was to go initiate peace talks with Sultan Sultanovich and definitely not get Rosencranz and Guildenstern with the letter that told them to kill the bearer.

Well, the joke was on Orlop because Sultan Sultanovich didn't even need the letter.

As guards flooded out of the room behind the throne, Bova started stepping backwards.

Hi.

Uh, sorry, I don't understand the language you all are speaking.

Do you have a horse I could borrow?

I think I might have been...

He paused as the spears lowered toward his throat.

Tricked into coming here.

They all froze for about a half second before Bova broke into a run.

Sultan had a few competent advisors who, the moment Bova entered the city, started arming warriors, and when Bova left the civilian population shut up in their homes, he was surrounded by men armed to the teeth, he did the only reasonable thing.

He grabbed the nearest warrior, a full-grown human man, and used him like a flail to beat the others.

He did eventually surrender, though.

Upon realizing that Sultan Sultanovich was choosing the Zapranigan technique of throwing waves and waves of his own men at Bova until Bova shut down from exhaustion, Bova surrendered and found himself in an open pit and, after turning down an offer of marriage to the princess, and this offer was from the princess, remember, Bova is extremely attractive, Bova found himself awaiting his execution.

Now, just a bit of a logistical point.

If the person you're trying to kill has already been shown to be able to use dead guys as weapons, you send a bunch of guys to go take him to his execution, and you have trapped him in a pit, well, if you can see where this is going, you have a bit more forethought than Sultan Sultanovich.

Bova emerged over the lip of the pit, having climbed a pile of the corpses of his enemies and, just like before, ran for the port.

Unlike last time, though, there wasn't a convenient group of drunk men.

So Bova had to make his own way.

He bartered passage on his ship by graciously offering not to kill the sailors, but then had to lower his offer a little bit when, storming the docks as the men were taking off, Sultan Sultanovich demanded that they turn the ship around and be searched for the fugitive.

Bova could see that it was possible that they might need to enter into some aggressive renegotiations.

One-third of the crew members were dead by Bova's sword until the rest were finally convinced that, you know what?

They were just going to listen to this guy on board with the sword instead of the one on shore with all the swords.

So they managed to get out to the ocean and, cognizant that he couldn't reasonably stay on board a ship where he had personally killed a third of the sailors for too long without them taking revenge, Bova got off at the next stop.

The next stop just happened to be the kingdom of Marco Brune.

It had, by now, been three years since Bova saved Markobrune, and even though Bova was the one who stopped the advancing army, Markobrune had still threatened to raise the city to the ground if he didn't get Drushnevna's hand.

That old romantic.

This was after, of course, Bova had mysteriously up and left with a letter to go to Sultan Sultanovich.

A letter Markobrun had absolutely nothing to do with, and definitely didn't convince the Chamberlain to lay in bed, pretending to be King Sinsebri, sending Bova on that exact mission.

With their savior gone, Sinsebri had to go ahead with the plan he had only pretended to like, when under the threat of immediate occupation and death.

Now, though, the wedding was finally happening.

Mainly because Markobrune had waited three years for it to finally happen and threatened to go back and murder her father if she didn't consent to marry him.

Markobrun needing a refresher on the definition of consent.

There was a reason Bova didn't want to marry the daughter of Sultan Sultanovich.

Not only because he'd have to convert to a different religion, or because her father tried to kill him to the point that he had to climb up a ladder of corpses, it was, well, because he was in love.

We are absolutely supposed to read Bova getting knocked out after interactions with Drushnevna earlier last week as him loving Drushnevna, because that's what happens when you love.

You go unconscious for several days at a time at the slightest nice gesture.

Anyway, as he stood outside the city of King Markobrune, Bova had a flashback to the stables.

Three years ago, when the city was under attack by the son of Sultan Sultanovich, there were shouts from both inside and outside the wall.

Fire rained down from the sky, men hammered at the gates, the city would fall, and Antuisi was the only one who could save it.

Probably, when he awoke to sounds of Drushnevna weeping, that she would have to be married to a man who would put her city to the sword, he told her that he could save her.

He could save everyone.

She rushed him down to the stables where, of course, there was a horse that was so dangerous it wouldn't take any rider.

And, of course, when Bova approached it and began undoing its chains, it not only didn't immediately murder him, but allowed him to tack up and ride from the city.

But before he did that, Drushnevna called him close.

She said she didn't care that he was a peasant.

She loved him.

and she wanted to marry him.

If he survived, they would run away together.

They kissed, and Bova smiled.

He revealed that he wasn't a peasant.

He was Bova Korolevich, a prince in his own right, and he would be back.

As we already mentioned, he did save the city, fell for the ruse, and was imprisoned for three years, and for those three years, he never forgot Drushnevna.

Unfortunately, Drushnevna's forced betrothed never forgot him either, because no one in Marko Brune's kingdom could even utter Bova's name under pain of death.

So that presented something of a problem for Bova.

Whole kingdom being allowed to execute you on site would do that.

So he was looking for a solution to be able to get close to Drushnevna when he spotted...

Wait, that was his battle axe.

His battle axe that was stolen, along with his supplies and all of his money, when he was drugged by a stranger in the desert on the way to Sultanovich's kingdom.

Hey, Bova pointed to the man in the black cloak, whose eyes widened.

He shook his head.

No, it's not.

The brick wall cracking behind the middle-aged sorcerer, as Bova slammed him up against it, Bova demanded to know why the man had robbed him in the desert.

Was the thief working for his enemies?

Look, I don't know who you are, but you were traveling through the desert on foot.

You looked like an easy mark.

And you were.

Frankly, you don't seem savvy at all.

How about this?

I'll get us some drinks, and we can can talk this out like adults, the sorcerer said.

I am actually parched after the walk.

Wait, no, that's what you did last time, Bova said.

The thief smiled.

He had to try.

Look, Bova wanted his stuff back.

The thief didn't want to be punched into tiny pieces.

They could work something out.

And they did.

It was a better trade than the thief was expecting.

Bova got his battle axe back, obviously, and most of his money.

He also got three powders.

And which I mean, yeah, the hero trading for powders in an alley, not a great look, but these were magical.

Like, like literally magical.

The first, the black powder, when you washed with it, made you old.

So old that no one could recognize you.

The second, the white powder, reversed it, but didn't make you any younger than your starting point.

So you didn't have to worry about overshooting it and turning into a baby.

And the sorcerer made it clear that that's not where the story was going.

And the third just put people to sleep for nine days.

That's what you used on me, Bova said.

Remembering waking up after a light coma alone in the desert, bartering for the sorcerer's cloak, people make great deals when they think you might kill them, Bova decided to put the black powder to use.

I've heard a podcast interview with Kevin Bacon years ago, where he talks about how he had someone make prosthetics for him.

where people don't recognize him as Kevin Bacon, so he can walk around like a normal person sometimes and apparently it's not fun for him.

He found people to be rude and self-absorbed, and, you know, the world the rest of us live in.

And it was now the world Bova lived in, after he washed his face with the black powder, and became old Bova.

And for a kid whose every kidnapping and imprisonment has turned into an opportunity to either marry a princess or travel the world for free, it was a rude awakening.

Uh, in the name of Bova Kurolovich, please give me alms?

The old man cried out among the mass of beggars who had come to the princess's weekly gathering to get alms.

The rest of the crowd heard him and grinned, because to even speak the name of Bova in the kingdom made the person immediately an outlaw, and they could be legally murdered instantly by anyone.

I imagine this law was never abused in any way.

The beggars and the bystanders, who were about to treat themselves to some psychopathy, were quickly distracted by the princess's entire money dish tumbling to the ground, with the gold rolling in all directions, she called to the guards: Arrest that man.

We'll see what happens now that Bova has been arrested again,

but that will be read after this.

We shared black bread and fetid water in the kingdom of Tsar Sultan Sultanovich,

the old man said, gobbling up the food in the perfumed quarters of the princess.

And he died there, she said.

Oh, what?

No, no, no, he escaped with me.

We actually came here to find you?

The old man said.

Wow, it was hard to eat without teeth.

Okay, he asked for some water and took a bag of white powder from his wizard cloak.

Um, the princess said as the man took off the cloak and began bathing right in front of her.

She cared considerably less when, washed with the water and the white powder, she saw it was Bova, the man she loved.

She said she never forgot that day in the stables, when he told her how he felt, who he was.

Drushnevda had told him to not go to Sultan Sultanovich's kingdom, that it was an evil advisor in league with Marco Brune trying to get him murdered.

He nodded, yes, that was a good summary in the form of an I told you so, really getting this relationship off on the right track.

He did still want to run away with her though.

Since for her, the only other option was the man willing to burn her kingdom down and murder her people if he didn't get her hand in marriage, she happily agreed.

But she said that Marco Brune would never let her leave.

Bova held up another pouch full of powder.

He wouldn't have to.

Bova would hide and she just needed to invite him over for a drink.

Wow, I feel great.

You know you're getting old when a full night of sleep is like the best feeling ever.

You understand why people go to bed on time, right?

King Marco Brune sat up, his riffing on sleep cut short by shouting that the king was awake after sleeping for nine days.

I must have needed it, Mark Obrun said.

Obviously, the wedding had been postponed, but they could get right on that.

The rest of the room looked at their feet.

Right?

They could get on that?

Well, one of the advisors, who kind of I guess wanted to be banished forever, spoke up.

Um, you can't have the wedding without a princess.

She, well, she escaped.

With Bova.

The group winced, but Mark Obrun just stared off toward the far end of the room.

He blinked and he took a deep breath.

Polkon, he said.

No, no, no, no, not him, the advisor said.

Could they possibly offer him

any other woman who wanted to marry him?

It wouldn't spark a massive war, which was, once again, any other woman.

Polkan, take me to Polkon, Marko Markobrune said.

Not long after, Markobrune stood in the dungeon.

He had only been down there once, years ago, when they first got him.

Polkan.

It took a thousand men to capture him, and another thousand to get him to Markobrune's kingdom.

Truly, they didn't even know what they would do with a creature such as him.

But now that day had come.

You're a monster, and I need you to kill a hero, the the king said.

A pounding emanated from the rank shadows.

A life for a life.

You shall be rewarded richly, the king smiled.

My freedom, a voice boomed.

Merkerbrun said he was thinking fifteen more minutes of outside time a week, but

sure, if Polkin returned Drushnevna, his beloved, and brought back the man she ran away with, Bova, alive, then Polkin could have his freedom.

Polkin stepped forward from the shadows, and the people shuddered at the monster.

One of the guards who had traveled a bit more than the others looked at the creature.

Oh, he's a centaur.

The king turned.

No, it was Polkin, the monstrous knight that was a man down to his waist, and the rest of his body is in the form of a horse.

Oh, that's just saying centaur with more words.

You're describing a centaur, the guard noted.

No,

we are vaguely in the kingdoms of Eastern Europe and West Asia, Marco Brune said.

It's a creature with the upper body of a man and the lower body of a horse.

Which is a centaur?

It's Greek.

The guard grew uncomfortable with how heated this was getting.

One, I don't know what a Greek is, and two, whatever they are, they don't have a patent on half men, half horses.

It's conceivable that an idea could have just come about in two different places, Marko Brune groaned, and then waved his hand.

The guard was dragged off and reassigned.

To the graveyard.

Forever.

Anyway, Bova and Drushnevna, bring them here and earn your freedom, Marco Brune said, totally, definitely meaning it.

Polkin dropped the hundred-year-old oak, the one that he was just using to pummel Bova, to absolutely no avail.

The centaur dropped to his knees.

His front horse knees, I guess I need to be specific here.

Quick sidebar, I have no idea when Bova became Saitama from One Punch Man, literally able to take an oak tree to the face from a centaur like it was nothing.

I just have one question for you.

Bova strode forward.

Would you rather live or die?

The answer to that question was obvious.

And I guess so was the centaur's joining of Bova and Drushnevna on the run.

They continued fleeing from Marko Brune.

With Bova, despite his ability to now take on hundreds of thousands of warriors at once, and I am absolutely not joking about that, kind of kills all the stakes of our story, but now he had Drushnevna with them.

And in the chaos of battle, something could happen to her.

They arrived at Tsar Uril's kingdom a few weeks later, where he promised protection and apparently apparently didn't mind if the centaur slept in the house, which was good for Bova because Polkin overheard that, in the weeks since they had set off from Markobrune's kingdom, Markobrune had helpfully offered to take Uril's kids and foster them.

And he told Uril not to worry because they would be very well guarded.

There would never be a sword far from their necks.

To protect them, of course.

His wife protested that betraying Bova and the Centaur was a terrible idea.

He said, quote, that women are long on hair and short on wit.

And then he immediately proved himself wrong when the centaur barged through the door and shook him by the head until he stopped moving.

And yes, that's in the story.

Long story slightly shorter.

Polkin shored up the city, defended it, and he and Bova rescued the kids and set them on their father's throne, securing allies and hurting Marco Brune.

Down to just a few hundred thousand warriors, Marco Brun went home.

He would listen to his advisors and marry a woman who actually wanted to marry him and not one he had to sacrifice literal generations of his people for.

And so the trio, Bova, Drushnevna, and Polkin, stopped.

They found a nice oasis tucked away and they stayed there.

Kings and battles and all the traveling were taking their toll on Drushnevna.

who was pregnant with she and Bova's first child.

They made some tents, hunted for food, traded with nearby cities, and for a couple of years there was peace.

They had two children, Licharda and Simbolta.

Soon they thought that it might be safe to go home to Sensibri's kingdom so that the old king could meet his grandchildren.

Riding for Sensibri's kingdom, they found themselves walking alongside just a massive host.

Hey traveler, where are you all going?

one of the soldiers called out, just making conversation.

Oh, just Sinsebri's kingdom.

Taking my wife home, Bova pointed.

The soldier winced.

Oh, maybe

he wants to wait on that.

Like, forever.

We're just going to completely wreck that place.

Full-on ancient medieval world sacking.

It's going to get nuts.

What?

Why?

It turns out that he not only knew that late King Guidon's son survived, but he harbored the kid, the soldier said.

King Dadon was going to raise the city to the ground.

Oh, your news is a little out of date on that one.

I heard Bova went to Sultan Sultanovich's kingdom.

Bova pointed east.

Oh, yeah, we're going to go there next, the soldier said.

Just a whole vacation of killing and stealing and other stuff.

Markerbrun's kingdom was after that.

You know what?

I think I'll take your advice.

We'll head back to our oasis.

Thanks, Bova said.

The soldier nodded, happy to help.

You know, they could even delay their trip to Sinsebri's kingdom if they wanted to get in on the looting.

Bova smiled.

He would, okay, he'd consider it.

Thanks.

So you guys are going to stay here, and I'm going to go finally kill my father's murderer.

Bova grinned after Drushnevna and the kids were back in the tent.

Okay, this is I'm sorry, what?

Polkin asked.

Yeah, my father's murderer, Bova said.

It's my whole ark.

No, it's it's not, Polkin replied.

He had been living with Bova and Drushnevna in a tent neighborhood by an oasis for four years.

You know how soundproof tents are?

He had never heard of this.

This was not Bova's ark?

Was that what he called it?

Bova groaned.

Look, he didn't expect Polkin to understand, but the death of his wonderful, wonderful father by the hands of his evil mother and her lover, it aided him.

How long?

How long has this been eating at you?

Polkin asked.

For 20 minutes, since I remembered about him, but the pain is still real, Bova said.

I'm doing this, and you're staying here.

Why do I have to stay here, Polkin?

The centaur snorted and stomped.

Bova could use him.

But Bova pointed to Drushnevna and the two children.

He couldn't bear it if anything happened to them.

No, Polkin needed to stay here and guard against lions or brigands.

Why would you say that?

Polkin asked.

The lion part.

They haven't fought a lion the entire time together, nor had Bova on his own.

This was completely out of the blue.

So?

Bova asked.

So it feels like foreshadowing, Polkin said.

It feels like a clumsy setup for us to be attacked by lions.

I'm part horse and part human, both of which are terrified of lions, Polkin said.

Bova put his hand on his friend's shoulder.

He didn't tell Polkin this enough, but Polkin had been a great friend to him.

Polkin was like a brother, and now, as Bova went to go fulfill the final task of his long and adventuresome life, the last thing, before they all went and retired in peace and happiness, never to be put in danger again, Bova just needed Polkin to do this one thing, look after the most important people in his life.

Oh my gosh, I'm gonna die, Polkin began trotting trotting back and forth.

Bova never talked like that.

Thematically, too, Bova could learn a terrible lesson about not letting go of the past, giving up his real family that loves him to avenge the terrible father he never knew.

How much have we survived?

You're not going to die.

We're going to relax and be friends, and I'll set you up with a nice...

Do you date horses or people?

There's so much I don't know about you, friend.

Oh well, we have all the time in the world, Bova said.

And to Polkin's protests, Bova rode off to war alone.

While he was gone, Polkin paced by the pool, while Drushnevna rested with the kids in the heat of the day.

Bova hadn't told her he left.

He didn't want to worry her.

Your spouse fighting an entire army by themselves can tend to do that.

It's okay, Polkin.

You can do this.

You're just being superstitious.

Just because he said all those nice things and that you're almost done and you're one day away from retirement doesn't mean that things are going to go bad now.

You're good.

You're so The first pair of lion eyes emerging from the desert stopped his words.

And the second pair killed his hope.

Vulcan quavered, but he knew what he must do.

Inside that tent, his friend and her children slept.

If the lions got past him, Bova would never forgive him, and he would never be able to forgive himself.

He picked up his halberd, pointed it at the closest lion, and galloped to meet him.

Hey, so I killed all those guys, Bova rode, returning.

Turned out King Datum wasn't with them, and he'd have to get him next time, but they were all safe now.

Bova's horse slowed as he saw the carnage.

A lion was dead.

Well, actually, two lions were dead.

Polkin was dead.

The tent drew Shnevna and the boys.

He rushed over, but it flapped in the wind.

His family was gone.

They had been eaten.

They had all been eaten by lions because he wasn't willing to listen to his friend, because he went after his enemy to try to avenge the family he never knew, all at the cost of the family he had.

He fell down, weeping in the sand.

In the days that followed, after he buried Polkin and burned the rest of the camp, he never once noticed that Drushnevna's horse was gone.

She had gotten away, just like they planned.

We'll see what Drushnevda's plan was, but that will be, but that will, once again, be read after this.

Bova?

Polkin?

Drushnevna had emerged from the tent an hour or so after Polkin had leveled his halberd.

She gasped when she saw the blood.

Her children were rising behind her, but she told them to stay inside.

She walked toward the scene.

There were three bodies in a pile, Polkins and two lions.

Drushnevna rushed to her friend, but he was already gone.

He had been the second to go, evidently.

The first, a lion, had been pierced through with his weapon.

The second one got it just as bad, but was stronger, strong enough to kill, to kill both Polkin and Bova.

Bova was gone.

For a man who could take on an army to be surprised and eaten by a lion,

kind of strange credulity.

Yet here it was, perfectly proven because her husband wasn't there.

The lion succumbed to his injuries after it killed Polkin, leaving Polkin's hoarse human entrails spilling out onto the sand, already beginning to gather flies.

There was no time, no time to bury them, no time to mourn, no time to say goodbye.

They had a plan for this.

Drushnevda had been sought by so many powerful princes and kings in her time, and if found, she would be taken and the boys would be killed.

She blindfolded the children and ran for her horse, its saddle bags perpetually packed.

She got her bearings and rode east.

Drushnevna traveled for days, wrapped in a cloak with her face hidden.

They rode by night, finding caves when they could and scavenging whatever food possible from nearby towns.

No one saw them, though.

That was the plan.

When, finally, weeks later, and with two exhausted children, they approached the city of Sultan Sultanovich, They found a well outside of town.

Drushnevna pulled out the pouch, the one with the black powder.

In a time and world where people could be lost to anything, wars, animals, small infected cuts, it wasn't noteworthy for a grandmother to amble into town with her grandsons in tow, to find work at a friend her late son-in-law had made when he was a captive once in this place.

being wooed by a princess.

Drushnevna and the boy settled into a small home on the outskirts of town, where they, finally, after a life filled with war and chaos, had peace.

Simbalda, in tears, held Bova close.

Simbalda, if you remember, was the servant, the fostered son of a king who, yes, tutored Bova when he was three years old, but more importantly, kind of set this whole thing in motion when he kidnapped Bova and put it into Dadon's head that Bova might, someday, come after him for the death of King Guidon.

Still, everyone's later actions kind of suggested that what eventually happened was inevitable, so we won't blame Cymbalda too much.

At this time, Simbalda was the king and had a full life and story of his own, and it didn't make sense for him to march against Dadon and the city of Anton himself.

Plus he had paid for his actions long ago for about twenty-five years straight, what with the state of constant war between the kingdoms.

So he sent his son Turvis to ride with his own forces and accompany Bova, and they were apparently completely unnecessary.

I did it.

He's dead, Bova said.

Stunned, armor and helmet slick with the crimson of his usurper's stepfather's blood.

Bova had cried out in excitement, cutting through the enemy host as he rode for Dadon, who quickly realized how poorly he had miscalculated.

That thought, along with a lot of his blood and some bits of his brain, left his head when Bova brought down the sword on Dadon's helm, slicing into it.

Dadon dropped from his horse, and his warriors managed to rally enough to drag him inside the walls.

It was over.

King Dadon was dead.

Huh,

Bova said, looking down at his rations in the tent, as he and his warriors prepared their final push to break the defenses of the city of Anton.

What?

Turvis asked.

Bovis said it w well, it was nothing, just

he defeated his greatest enemy, the man who murdered his father and set him on this path and life and well

just

that was it?

Tervis didn't understand.

He just got everything he ever wanted, according to him and his stated desires.

And yet, I feel empty?

Is that a thing?

Maybe?

Maybe my intense focus on this goal to the point that I wasn't even content with my wife and children, maybe that was detrimental?

Perhaps that would never bring me fulfillment?

Maybe the true lesson was that I needed to deal with the past and move on, but instead I've sacrificed everything, and I'm even more broken than I was before, because at least then I could point to the source of my pain and discontentment and the reason to press on, but now I don't even have that and I need to find a reason now to live apart from my hate?

Bova sat back and Turvis said, I mean all that sounds like it was probably the cause, yeah.

A soldier came in and bowed to his leaders.

News from Anton was that King Dadon wasn't dead.

He had a horrible head injury and was desperately in need of a healer, but he wasn't dead.

Bova breathed, okay, well, okay, good.

All that stuff, all that discontentment stuff, was because he must have known that Dadon wasn't dead.

All that stuff was invalid, all those feelings.

Now, to finally go kill Dadon and get that contentment and fulfillment, he told Turvis to call off the army and waved for a servant to bring over that basin of water.

Dadon swirled in a haze of half-remembered dreams.

His fever is spiking, one doctor said.

I don't know if he'll make it.

More leeches?

Another shrugged, holding the bucket.

Ew, I can see his brain.

A wandering mystic healer, Dadon heard as he was swimming closer to the surface of the waking world, and then his eyes opened.

Queen Militrisa was by his side.

An old man hunched before them both, saying that he could heal the king, but he must do it alone.

The queen, Milatrisa, said that she was desperate.

She would do anything.

She kissed her husband for what she didn't know would be the last time, and left the room.

His head throbbing, the old man helped the king to sit up.

It hurt to move.

It hurt to think, but he understood the old man's words perfectly.

You sit on a stolen throne.

You sleep in a bed that isn't yours with a woman whose husband you murdered and whose son you banished.

The old man creaked, as he brought out a small goblet of water and dropped some white powder inside.

His lips parched, Dadon tried to ask this man, who was he, but his question was answered, when the old man splashed some water on his face and revealed Bova.

It had been ten years since the boy left, and over twenty since he killed Bova's father, but he would never forget.

Dadon had thought about that boy ceaselessly over the decades, thought about what he did.

He couldn't tell the boy he was sorry, sorry for imprisoning him out of fear born from love, sorry for banishing him.

Bova would never know how long Dadon lived with regret for what he did, how he wished he could take it back or change the path that they were on, but every time he thought about it, he told himself that they had already gone too far, when really he was too scared.

Dadam would say he died the day Guidon did, because he never stopped living with regret.

Now

he was finally in the hands of the child, the man that he had wronged.

Now

he would have rest.

I'm sorry, he struggled to say, as the dagger's blade found his throat.

My queen, the old man, hobbled in, holding a platter with a white cloth over it.

Queen Milatrisis shot up.

Was he okay?

Was he healed?

His wounds no longer trouble him.

You just need to take a bit more time, but soon you may go join him.

Bova held out a platter.

Until then, he had wanted her to have this.

It was prepared just for her.

He set the platter down and Milatrisis smiled.

Dadon, that was so sweet of him, thinking of her while he was healing.

Tugging the cloth away, she screamed at the sight of the severed head of her husband.

Bovis soaked in his mother's sobs until he heard a knock at the door.

He opened it.

Was it done?

Turvis, the son of Cymbalda, nodded.

Yes, the palace was secure.

It had been been weeks since Dadon's head injury, and, in that time, the city had seen an influx of elderly men ambling in from the roads.

It wasn't much, one here, three there, but it added up.

To the point that, when Bova was in with the usurper, they washed themselves with the white powder Bova had supplied to each before they left, overwhelmed the palace guards from the inside, and took the building room by room.

As they spoke, the gates were opening.

Turvis handed Bova his own basin, and Bova washed more completely this time.

You are just like your father, Milatrica sneered, as she realized who was the architect of her husband's murder.

I think there's plenty of both of you and me, Bova laughed.

Milatrice said she had never been a great mother or a good one.

She was a child given to a brute, and she only wanted to forget Guidon ever existed.

She was sorry that Bova, by nature of his birth, had been caught in the middle.

That had been unfair for him.

She should have listened to Dadon and killed him sooner.

That was on her.

Bova sighed.

He hadn't expected pleading, and he hadn't gotten it.

Well, I'm going to show you how much better and more gracious I am than you.

I'm going to let you go.

Bova smiled, and he gestured to the door.

Really?

Turvis said, as they nailed the barrel lid shut over the screaming queen.

He and his men stood on the cliffs overlooking the sea.

What?

I'm letting her go just

in a barrel.

She can roll whichever direction she wants.

On this hill with a very sharp incline, Bova said.

It's just...

It's a little cruel, isn't it?

Turvis winced.

She's a monster.

She killed my father.

And this is how you're better.

Apple doesn't fall far, does it?

Turvis said.

Bova bobbed his head toward the sea, and the soldier gave the barrel a shove.

As it bounced and rolled down the hill and the screams grew quieter, Bova said, you know, they just finished talking about that.

When Bova ascended the throne, his father's throne, he claimed legitimacy as Guidon's son, something the people and nobles definitely cared about, just like they did the last time, when the guy with zero legitimacy sat on the throne and they showed their outrage by doing nothing for 20 plus years.

On his father's throne, he pushed all those feelings of discontentment and malaise very far down.

He still had to get married and have more heirs.

And who else would he marry but the daughter of Sultan Sultanovich?

Why?

Turvis Turvis asked.

Didn't her father try to murder him, like multiple times?

Well, what better way to stick it to an old enemy than to marry his daughter?

Plus what?

It's like the two-minute warning here.

We're not going to have a whole other king and princess and named character and all that.

No, this is just easier.

Send an army as a show of force.

Okay, really?

Turvis asked, wide-eyed.

Seriously, that was exactly what his dad did.

This is what all the kings have done, and they've all either died or wish they had.

Except that Miliharia, the daughter of Sultan Sultanovich, was into him.

Remember, he was very good looking.

And the conversion rule was Sultan's, and that went out the window in order to not die, so happy ending.

Happy ending for all, but the strange people that followed behind Miliharia Sultanovna's caravan.

They began crying when they saw Bova, the really handsome young man who walked ahead of of a hunched older woman.

Really handsome, like he was looking in a mirror.

Symbalda and Lecharda?

Bova shook.

The boy smiled.

Tears rimmed the eyes of the elderly woman behind them.

Bova abandoned his conversation with Milheria and ran to them.

They had decided to follow along when they heard the princess was marrying Bova, them being shocked that he was alive after they thought he was eaten by lions.

He said he was sorry, he just ran away to kill an entire army after re-remembering his childhood quest for vengeance.

It was okay, though.

He nailed his mom in a barrel and threw her into the sea.

Drushnevna smiled, oh, okay.

She washed and once again looked like herself.

Bova decided that he wouldn't marry Miliharia Sultanovna, instead sending Tervis to Tsar Sultan in his stead.

Probably to Tervis' death, but who knows?

They took back Sinsebri's kingdom from its own usurper, and Bova set his sons on the throne there, and he and Drushnevna stayed in his father's kingdom, and after a life spent wandering and fighting, Bova and Drushnevna found peace.

Until one day, they looked at each other with a laugh, realizing that they no longer needed the black powder to look old.

Because they had lived a long,

happy,

definitely contented, no need to pick at that scab, Bova.

Seriously, don't think about how you've accomplished everything that gave your life meaning and now there's nothing left.

Just don't do it.

Just be happy.

And he was.

Probably.

The end.

That was a long one.

It felt like it could have ended without the lion bit and the separation.

That felt tacked on.

But then you'd still have Polkin with them, which also felt kind of tacked on, especially when Marco Broom just kind of gave up and went home.

Regardless, it was a fun one.

I enjoyed how human and flawed most of the characters were, even if Bova's inexplicable invulnerability kind of drained the story of any real danger in the second half.

Next week, it's Finnish folklore.

A story of King Mighty Miko, who's neither king, mighty, nor me- Well, okay, he actually is Miko, but he's not king or mighty.

But we'll see that that doesn't really matter.

All that you need is a best friend who's as crafty as a fox.

And also actually a fox.

The creature this time is Tsunake Baba from Japanese folklore.

We went to South Korea and Japan earlier this year.

It was a wonderful trip.

It forever ruined Cincinnati Korean food and ramen for me, but that's another story.

We didn't realize until about a month before we left that it was sakura season.

So, literally the whole world descends on Japan to see the cherry blossoms in bloom.

We saw two whole cherry blossoms because, like yours truly, they were all late bloomers this year.

I posted a picture of me and pretty much everyone in Kyoto, taking a picture of the single tree in bloom on the website.

The locals in both South Korea and Japan were wonderful.

Some of our fellow tourists,

not the most wonderful.

All that to say, say, I get why Tsunoke Baba, the sand-throwing granny, might want to throw sand in the faces of travelers heading to forest temples.

Does she know something?

Is she protecting the temples in the forests?

Is she evil?

Well, probably not, to the evil part at least.

Yes, if the sand hits you in the eye and you don't get it out of there, it can scratch, but as far as I can tell, The little old lady with a bag of sand isn't evil.

She's just kind of mischievous.

Yes, I know it would be annoying to be hit in the eyes with sand.

I feel like that goes without saying.

That being said, in some recent depictions, like a comic I haven't read or an anime I haven't seen, she's a crusader for justice and only hits you with sand if you deserve it.

So

maybe look at why that creature is trying to hit you with sand and what you could be doing to add to that situation.

And I mean, really, if you think about it, As far as retribution goes for creatures of the week, being hit in the face with a little bit of sand isn't so bad.

That being said, in discussions of this enigmatic woman, in some places it's said that she's really just a tanooki in disguise who likes to pelt people in the face with sand.

So, deserving or no?

For some reason I am way more tolerant of Justice Granny correcting me than I am of Tom Nook messing with me.

That's it for this time.

Myths and Legends is by Jason and Carissa Wiser.

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.