384: Turkish folklore: The Silent Princess

This week on Myths and Legends, we're in Turkish folklore, and we'll see how not showering, collecting birds, and throwing balls at strangers in the street can help you meet the love of your life.

If the love of your life doesn't kill you first, the creature this time is an eel, an eel who loves life so much it will try to kill everyone.

This is Myths and Legends, episode 384: The Silent Princess.

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.

Today is a fairy tale from Turkey.

Set in the early modern period, it comes to us by way of the Hungarian Turkologist Ignás Kunos in the early 20th century.

We'll jump in with a Turkish prince engaging in his favorite pastime, pelting strangers on the the street with balls.

Oh my gosh, okay.

Look at this, look at this.

Look at this poor old woman getting water from a well.

The prince laughed.

Hey!

Hey, old woman!

Everyone knows water comes from pitchers brought by servants.

He turned to his tutor, the person who had the challenging job of making sure the prince didn't throw balls at strangers.

He was mostly unsuccessful.

Could the tutor believe this woman?

Drinking water from the ground?

That was like eating food grown in dirt.

Ew.

Then he smiled.

Oh yeah.

I'm gonna do it.

I'm gonna get her.

Don't, the tutor warned.

Indignation burned in the prince's eyes.

The tutor asked why the prince was even getting angry.

The prince knew that all the tutor was legally allowed to do was say don't.

One time he couldn't actually stop the prince from throwing the

shattering of the woman's water pitcher, the water flowing all down her, and the cries from the street stopped the tutor's words as the golden ball bounced on the stones.

I am now required to go tell your father about this, the tutor groaned, turning to leave.

Why?

He's not going to care.

The prince called back before descending the staircase to go get his ball.

I don't care, the Padi Shah confirmed moments later.

Boys will be boys.

I mean, throwing his ball in the street, the little scamp.

He's twenty-four, the tutor cried.

What are you trying to prove here?

That you're bad at your job?

The Sultan rose and drove a finger into the tutor's chest.

The tutor shouldn't come to him, except to tell him that his son wasn't throwing balls at strangers.

Why would I come to tell you that?

Unless you're saying that I shouldn't come to you at all, oh, you're saying that I shouldn't come to you at all.

The tutor understood what was being communicated both implicitly and explicitly.

Which meant the next day when the woman was getting water with one of her other clay water pitchers and the prince raised his ball, the tutor, sitting on the windowsill, head in his hands, could only say, don't.

Stop.

The prince didn't, and this time to swearing, the water pitcher shattered, and the prince laughed.

The third day, too, as the woman was dipping it, the prince aimed his ball, and just like the last two, the water pitcher shattered, this time falling into the well.

The prince pointed, grinning.

That would teach her to try to exist and not die of thirst.

This time, though, the elderly woman turned not with a grimace, but a smile.

The prince was annoyed.

He didn't like it when they smiled.

She walked toward him.

Well,

she would say only one thing and then leave.

May you fall in love with the silent princess.

The tutor joined the prince in laughter.

Prince said, what was that about?

The tutor said, oh, it was just that she was trying to curse the prince, like being all ominous and taking revenge.

It it was nothing.

The prince laughed.

Yeah, no, it was ridiculous.

Loving the silent princess.

He didn't even know who or what the silent princess was.

How could he love her?

Then he paused for a few moments.

And he clutched his hands to his chest, but he did.

He did love her.

No,

you don't, the tutor said.

That was impossible.

I'm cursed.

Cursed to love.

The prince swooned, and then realized that swooning would mean hitting the floor from about five and a half feet up, so he just laid down.

He had been cursed by the old woman at the well, cursed!

My son is dying.

The Potashal gripped the jacket of the tutor.

Respectfully, Your Grace, he's not.

He's weak, sure, but that's only because he hasn't eaten anything for a few days.

The physicians in the Hojas, the academics, couldn't figure out his malady.

It was so serious.

The Sultan wrung his hands.

They couldn't figure it out because there was no malady, the advisor sighed.

He was guessing where this next part of the conversation was going, but hoping that it wouldn't go there.

Okay,

I'll level with you, the tutor said.

He thinks he's cursed, is what he barely managed to get out before.

My son is cursed.

The Sultan shoved the tutor to the side and rushed into the boy's room.

Cursed, cursed to love?

No, the Sultan wept, gripping his son's hand.

Father, father, I love her, the prince said.

The silent princess, he loved the silent princess and he must marry her.

That you shall not live long unless the mystery of your disease is cured, and you are freed from the affliction of your affection.

The Sultan shook his head.

His affliction is not affection.

It's not even affliction.

It's throwing balls at strangers in the market, the tutor called out.

They talked about this.

But they hadn't listened to anything he said up until this point.

Why should they start now?

And they didn't.

No, the Sultan decreed that the prince needs must go on a quest to find the silent princess and marry her, or maybe just go on a few dates to see if they were compatible and if there was mutual affection and attraction.

And Lala, your tutor, shall accompany you on your journey.

The Sultan clasped the tutor on the shoulder.

The tutor said

he was good.

He was kind of out of his element already, trying to play babysitter to a 20-something prince, but questing...

He was pushing 40.

He had a family.

I won't hear of it, the Sultan said.

You get to go.

And by won't hear of it, I mean for every word you utter in protest, I'm taking a finger.

Nope.

You'd love to go?

I'll take your head nod as approval.

Great.

You'll leave in the morning.

What are you doing?

The words echoed down the valley to the river.

where the tutor was trying to have a moment to himself to bathe.

He dipped into the water.

He thought that was obvious.

No, no bathing.

What is this?

We're taking no care in our appearance.

We are as wild men, the prince and the story said.

Why?

The tutor rose from the water, reaching for his cloak.

Because people won't know I'm a prince and you're my tutor.

That's why.

It's like you've never traveled before.

Honestly, I'm embarrassed for you.

The prince's eyes widened all judgy-like.

Okay, you've literally never traveled before because you thought water only came from servants.

You can still travel incognito and brush your teeth, the tutor shouted back.

Not on my trip, the prince said.

And he was right, they didn't.

For six months, they didn't bathe, change their clothes, or brush their teeth.

They did look the part of wild men, which is a curious choice when you're trying to woo a princess on the other side of the trip.

Their new appearance did help them endear themselves to the common person, who regularly gave them information without the expectation of payment.

Definitely not so they could get the two stinky wild men away from them.

Which was how, half a year from when they left, they found themselves on Glitter Mountain.

The prince turned around and rubbed a finger on one of the rocks.

This was fantastic.

Everything shimmered and sparkled.

It was like a unicorn vomited.

The tutor swept back his matted, greasy hair.

Oh, wow, yes, this truly makes all the skin infections and not seeing his family for half a year worth

I know, right.

You're welcome, the prince smiled, but then jumped when a voice shouted at them from the summit.

You are on the mountain of the silent princess, the voice boomed.

The prince slapped his tutor on the shoulder.

See, see?

The glitter on this mountain was caused by her presence, the old man shouted.

And even this was through a sevenfold veil.

Wow, amazing, so is she around here?

Can I see her?

The prince scanned the horizon.

You can see her, if you want to die, the old man declared.

Many, many people came seeking the hand of the silent princess, and none of them have yet returned.

They threw golden balls at peasants getting water too, the prince nodded.

It really was an irresistible pastime.

The old man didn't have the time, context, or patience to unpack that.

No,

it was that they failed to elicit a word from the princess.

That was the gimmick.

If someone sought the hand of the silent princess and they couldn't get her to talk, then they would be killed.

For some reason, the prince was not deterred by this, nor was he deterred by six months of more walking.

Six months, come on, the tutor said, then recoiled at the smell of his own breath.

The old man pointed, yep, six months of walking in that direction, and they would reach her Sarai.

Okay, can we like not, please?

The tutor asked the prince.

The prince laughed.

Of course

not.

Yeah, you thought I was agreeing to your reasonable request with a clever mislead, but then bam, hit you with the rejection.

For real, though, let's get on the road.

We'll see what happens when the prince and tutor arrive at the Blood Red Mountain, but that will be right after this.

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Do you think that the Blood Red Mountain has anything to do with the silent princess?

The prince asked his tutor, who, tongue-grazing his own fuzzy teeth after a year of no brushing, said, hmm, I wonder.

Well, if you're unsure and you're the tutor, we should probably go ask around.

The prince pointed to a village nestled in the valley below.

A coffee house, wow, the prince said.

The tutor looked up, really?

For real, it said coffee house.

Yep, right there, the prince pointed to the text.

of the coffee house's sign.

After the first several people recoiled from the stench of the pair, they were finally able to get their coffee and take a seat.

This being maybe the one instance where coffee breath was preferable to someone's actual breath, and it didn't combine to make a super-powered, smelly hybrid, the pair struck up a conversation with someone nearby who learned that, wow, these guys came from far away?

It must be their custom or something that they looked and smelled so horrible.

The tutor tried to say that it really wasn't, but the prince just said yes.

They were very cool.

A few things happened after after that.

One, everyone in town came to say hi to the cool travelers.

That's in the text.

I also like to imagine, what with filth now being in style, the people started rolling in the streets and chewing on onions to get that cool, musky stench going.

Yeah, the red mountain, the stranger in the coffee shop said.

That was the silent princess.

Slapping the tutor on the shoulder again, the prince nodded at the man.

Yeah?

And where was she?

Did she live in town?

Oh, she doesn't live around here.

Please, we couldn't handle it.

The man laughed.

No, the mountain was just red from the color of her lips, which were also red.

She lived a three-month walk away, but be warned, many men had sacrificed their lives on her account.

Is it a sacrifice, though?

The tutor mused.

I mean, if I see a pile of gold on that other mountain and everyone is like, don't try to jump that valley or you'll die.

And I'm like, I'm going to jump that valley.

And I I die.

Would you say I sacrificed my life for that gold?

It's more like I just tried and failed.

The tutor sighed.

They were going to walk for three more months, weren't they?

Only three months this time.

Let's look on the bright side.

The prince stood, his chair scraping the floor.

He thanked the local, who was more than happy to help out the cool pair for their freestyle advice, and the prince and his tutor continued on.

That is

way too metal.

That's awesome, the prince said, looking at the castle made entirely out of human skulls.

These are the heads of those who have perished in the attempt to make the princess speak.

Either we attain our object, or our skulls will be used for a similar purpose, the prince muttered, before spurring his horse onward toward the village.

The tutor nodded and then shouted after the prince, um, our skulls?

What did he mean our skulls?

Oh, my brother, my son, the cries went up from the village as the prince and tutor rode in.

We are seeking, the prince called out, and the elderly man standing in the doorway of a local inn said he knew.

They came to try to get the silent princess to talk.

Yeah, how did you how did I know?

We're in a remote mountain village in the shadow of a castle made out of human skulls.

Why does anyone come here?

The man said.

The Patishaw's messengers, putting out the word about the silent princess, must be busy.

He's building that new addition and he probably needs the building materials.

Slow going.

Supply chain of misguided princes is not what it used to be.

Anyway, they could stay here at the inn, and he would send word to the Padasha.

No one could approach the castle without his

think.

The innkeeper smiled, and went to resume wiping down the bar.

The messenger making his way up to the castle took most of the day.

So while the prince and the tutor waited on the princess's return messenger, they decided to settle in, get a couple rooms, a few drinks, and that bird.

I have to have that bird.

The prince pointed to a caged nightingale.

The tutor put down his drink and looked at the prince.

That bird, a common nightingale, I fancy it.

The tutor sighed.

Look, he wasn't trying to tell the prince what was obviously going on, but it was clear the prince was anxious about his trial with the princess coming up, and he was avoiding this feeling by buying a bird.

Remember what I said when you told me not to throw the golden ball?

The prince held out his hand for the money bag.

The thing that got you in all this to begin with?

I don't care what you say.

I'm doing it anyway.

The prince felt the money bag come to a rest in his palm.

There you go.

That's a good tutor.

The Prince looked at the small common bird that, for some reason, didn't solve all of his problems and solve his anxiety.

He picked up the cage to go chuck it off a cliff or something, when the bird asked Why so gloomy, my prince?

What troubles you?

The prince froze.

How could the nightingale talk?

Don't worry about it, it's not important, the nightingale said.

Are are you God?

Are you God speaking to me through this bird?

the prince gasped.

You said that, not me.

I said it wasn't important.

Don't worry about it, the bird replied.

The prince bowed and laid out the whole situation.

Oh, easy, the bird said.

You talk to a lamp.

The prince was confused.

Pointing a wing, the bird tweeted exactly.

It was confusing.

Here, he'd tell the prince exactly what to do.

Holding his wing up, the prince leaned in close and the bird whispered a tweet, tweet, tweet.

Tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet.

The prince nodded, oh, yeah.

You have,

let's say, an hour, the Padasha said, as he directed the young man inside.

Wouldn't matter, she wouldn't speak.

He looked forward to killing the prince shortly.

A few days after the prince arrived, the messenger from the king descended, saying that it was time the prince could try to make the silent princess speak.

The prince and the tutor were encouraged to leave all their wealth in the chest in their room, because why should the king get even more cash?

I mean, so it would be secure upon their safe return.

And the prince and his tutor followed the servant up the mountain to the castle made completely out of skulls.

And it wasn't just the walls or the showy parts, it was 100% skulls.

So walls, hallways, bathrooms, showers, it was as horrifyingly gruesome as it was extremely poorly made.

The water didn't flow where it should, most of the walls and floors weren't level, and it needed constant repair because human bones only get more brittle over time.

Still, it looked ominous, and the king vowed to stop building with skulls when the princess stopped coming, and well, that hadn't happened yet.

So yeah, we'll be waiting outside the room, for we knew it inevitably fail, to take you to the room with the drain for your execution.

Alright, good luck in there, champ,

the Sultan said.

The servants opened the door to the princess's room, and she sat on a couch at the far end.

face covered by seven veils.

Hold up, what what is that?

The servant pointed to the cage under a small sheet.

Do we allow props?

The other servant looked to the Sultan's direction.

He had already disappeared down the hallway.

Ugh He said no one had tried a prop yet, but he didn't see why not.

It's not like a prop was magically going to make the Princess speak.

Okay, sure, whatever.

Go ahead, they waved, more interested in getting this done than arguing about the rules with the dead man.

The prince entered the darkened room and set the cage down beneath the lampstand by the door.

He turned to the princess.

So

how are you?

Nothing.

Nice weather you have here up in the mountains.

Probably good that it doesn't rain much.

I can't imagine your skull shingles up there are too watertight.

He gestured to the ceiling and chuckled.

They sat in awkward silence, the princess shifting every now and then, and the prince trying to bring up anything that might get her to speak, but

nothing.

You're You're not giving me a lot to go on, so pardon me, but I'm just gonna have a conversation with the lampstand here, he said, turning.

Hi, mister Lampstand.

The prince held out his hand and pantomimed a handshake.

How are you?

The princess had likely seen improv comedy, and from her reaction, she wasn't a fan.

She sat up straight, though, when the lampstand responded, Doing quite well, thanks for asking.

It's been many years since anyone spoke to me.

Would you like to hear a story?

The nightingale, doing its best lampstand impression, replied.

Oh, of course.

The prince laughed, looking at the princess, and the story began.

Three princes went to the Shah to seek his daughter's hand.

Something you would know nothing about.

The lampstand did the verbal equivalent of an exaggerated wink.

Oh, lampstand, so topical.

Please keep the story moving, though.

A time limit wasn't established to get the princess to talk.

The prince chuckled nervously.

So the lampstand continued.

Three princes, one princess, and a shah with a request.

Whoever excels the others in enterprise shall have his daughter.

It was vague enough that he could choose whomever he wanted, and the princes couldn't argue.

They left that afternoon.

Coming to a crossroad, they resolved to go their separate directions so as to not interfere with one another.

The world was big and wondrous enough that whichever way they went, they would find something fantastic.

They left their rings under a rock so they would know the status of the others upon their return, with princes collecting their own rings when they passed back this way.

So, one learned to go a six-months' journey in an hour, one learned how to make himself invisible, and the third learned how to bring the dead to life again.

And the ring thing turned out to be not all that important because they arrived back at the spring at the same time.

The prince

cleared his throat.

Yeah, the nightingale could see he wanted to say something.

Well, lampstand, it's just that why focus so much on the rings if they weren't important at all?

And then just hand wave, people being able to turn invisible and raise people from the dead.

The lampstand paused.

Okay, well, one,

I'm not looking for notes.

You don't think that maybe it's an ironic subversion?

The lampstand explained.

Oh, that's fairly clever if that was the case, the prince mused.

It is the case, the lampstand replied.

It wasn't, but in the fairy tale retelling game, we have to work with what we have.

Full disclosure, I have been back for a little while, the guy who could turn invisible said.

So long that he well, he had been back.

To check on the princess.

In her bedroom.

The two others grew enraged, but the invisible man said it wasn't like that.

Well, it was intended to be like that, but ultimately it couldn't be because she hasn't left her bed for days.

She's very ill.

She would likely be dead by the time they could return.

He explained the situation, and the man who could restore the dead to life gasped.

In his travels, he learned how to make medicine to treat that very condition.

But he needed all the right ingredients, and they were, easily, a month's journey away.

Just point me in the right direction, the man who could make a six-month journey in an hour said, and the physician prince did.

The princess was saved when the speedster dropped the medicine off at her bedside and returned to the others, and they all walked into the city with a fantastic story to tell.

But he, the lampstand, had one question for the prince.

Who deserved the princess's hand in marriage?

Well, obviously it was the physician.

He prepared the medicine, the prince answered honestly.

I think it was the prince who alerted them to the condition.

The lampstand took the probably least defensible position as to who deserved her hand.

Someone had to.

And they went back and forth, completely ignoring the princess who shuffled anxiously on the couch.

He knew the right ingredients, where to find them, and the dosage to save her life.

The prince was getting legitimately angry that the lampstand wasn't agreeing with him.

The invisible guy also did something to save the princess, the lampstand replied.

The prince retorted retorted that that wasn't an argument, and he was getting frustrated the lampstand couldn't see that.

Stop it, you fools, they heard from the far end of the room and turned to see the princess rise.

It was obviously the man who could travel a journey of six months in an hour.

Without action, all the knowledge in the world was a

her hands went to her veil and the prince grinned.

Got her.

We'll see that the sultan who executed so many young men he built a castle out of their skulls is, well, maybe not a man of his word, but that will, once again, be read after this.

Not all group chats are the same, just like not all atoms are the same.

Adam Brody, for example, uses WhatsApp to plan his grandma's birthday using video calls, polls to choose a gift, and HD photos to document a family moment to remember, all in one group chat.

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Nope, the Paddish Shaw shook his head before ordering the skull door closed so he and the prince could speak in private.

Which skull door?

The servant asked.

They were all skull doors.

It was a castle made of skulls.

Yes, I know, the Shaw said.

Close every door.

The Shaw paced on his crunchy floor.

This was an obvious ruse, a trick.

His daughter had been deceived into responding.

She wasn't coerced.

I did it.

She responded, Your Majesty.

Or should I say, dad?

The prince smiled.

No.

No, you shouldn't.

Okay, here's the deal.

Three times.

The Shah held up his fingers.

Get her to talk three times and he could marry her.

He would even count today's deception toward the total.

That wasn't the deal.

I am altering the deal.

Pray I don't alter it further.

The Sultan turned to leave, but then realized he was in his own throne room.

The prince needed to get out.

Yeah, so the Sultana, the princess, is angry about being tricked.

Are you sure you want to marry her?

The Nightingale said.

It feels like maybe it's not a good fit to marry someone who not only doesn't want to get married, but actively hates you specifically.

The prince sat back on his bed in the inn, where it seemed like his gold had been hastily piled back in his chest when they told him they were cleaning his room upon his return.

The prince told the nightingale sorry, a curse was a curse, and he had to see this through.

What was the plan for round two?

The plan was pretty similar.

The prince brought in the covered cage and, seeing the lampstand smashed by the door, set it upon a stand by the wall.

Again, he tried to talk to the princess and as always, she kept stonewalling him.

So he turned for a conversation with the stand by the wall.

With great pleasure, the stand called out.

I'm glad the sultana, the princess, didn't speak, or else you wouldn't speak to me.

Would you like to hear a story?

I heard quite a few from the lamp stand before its untimely death.

The prince looked to the princess with an accusatory headshake, but then nodded.

Yeah, absolutely.

Okay, so a woman had three lovers: Balji, the honeymaker's son, Jaji, the talomaker's son, and Tirji, the tanner's son.

They each visited her at separate times, so none of them knew about the other.

One day, when she was combing her hair, she noticed a gray strand, and so she decided she should probably settle down.

Anyway, she devised a plan for the men to determine who was worthy, and then scheduled some visits.

First, it was Jaji, the talomaker's son.

He came in all kissy kissy, but she was crying.

He asked,

What was wrong?

She said, Her father, her father was

dead.

He sat back.

Oh, that feels like a big deal.

He's dead and haunting me.

Jaji said, That sounds like an even bigger deal.

How could he help?

Was this a figurative haunting, like she had regrets or something, or a literal haunting?

The woman wiped her eyes.

No.

Literal.

He was roaming the house groaning and complaining about phantom pains.

If Jaji wanted to help, he could put on a sheet and go lie in the grave she dug out back.

The talomaker's son asked, How would that help?

The woman shook her head.

She could see he didn't love her.

All she asked for him was to lie for three hours in an open grave and then they could get to the other stuff they were planning to do today.

Okay, I'll do it.

Where's the sheet?

Your father is dead?

Balji, the honeymaker's son, said when he arrived nearly three hours later.

He was gonna be real.

It was difficult to start off their tryst with such an intense downer, but he would push through.

For her.

He leaned in for a kiss, but she stopped him, meeting him instead with a stone.

Her father's ghost was tormenting her, rising from his grave in the backyard.

He needed to bludgeon it to death with a rock.

Done.

Balji took the rock and made for the backyard.

She thought that that was pretty easy.

And then the third man stepped in mere minutes later.

She told Tirji that her father was dead and she wanted him to be at rest, but a sorcerer kept disturbing the grave.

The sorcerer was actually out in the backyard right now.

Dispatch him, bring her the corpse in the grave, and they get to doing, you know, what they were going to do.

He said, okay, sure, anything for her.

She then looked out the back window to watch who would win the makeshift hunger games that she had set up to see who would get to marry her.

And who deserved her hand?

The stand by the wall said.

The living one?

The one who was left at the end?

The prince asked.

It seemed like a pretty clear winner there.

Oh, they stopped fighting when they recognized one another and laughed.

But who deserved her?

Jaji, Balji, or Taiji?

The bird asked.

Well, first, why did you name them?

You could have just as easily done the tallow maker's son, the honeymaker's son, and the tanner's son, even when the vocations don't really add anything to the story.

Also, why did you introduce them in one order, but then have them arrive in another?

It's just confusing for the listener, the prince said.

Yeah.

The lampstand said you were like this and that you were going to workshop it.

Um, I gave them names because it adds some realism and, I don't know, texture.

It anchors it historically and culturally, the bird said.

But the men get names and family histories and the character who's a woman gets nothing?

The prince asked.

Well, that's just the Middle Ages, the bird laughed.

Fair enough, the prince said, but his vote was for Bulgy.

He was willing to fight a ghost.

It was definitely the last guy, the bird said.

He was willing to fight a sorcerer.

You both are forgetting the first man who laid in an open grave for three hours for the woman he loved, the princess said.

Then shook her head.

She did it again.

The boss said no birdcage allowed inside the door.

The guards stopped the prince before he entered the princess's quarters for the third time the following day.

Oh, see, I thought he said, No, comma, bird cage is allowed in this room.

The prince smacked his forehead with a palm.

This was clearly an eats, shoots, and leaves sort of mistake.

He would just climb back down the mountain and drop the bird cage back off at the inn.

He'd be right back in four to six hours.

No, that will take forever.

I have plans tonight.

Here, leave it outside the door.

We won't tell anyone, the guard said.

And the prince smiled.

smiled.

Interesting decorating choices.

The prince pointed to the smashed and shattered lampstand and wall stand.

The princess didn't reply.

Well, whatever.

If she didn't want to talk, he would just speak with her door.

Hi, door.

Hey, Prince, the Dora said.

To move things along, while the guards were away getting snacks or something, he was just going to jump right into the story.

Works for me, the prince smiled back at the princess.

A carpenter, tailor, and a softa were traveling together, the door started.

And the prince stopped him, and a softa is a Muslim student of sacred law and theology.

Sorry, the bird said.

Anyway, they arrived at a town where they opened a business together.

What sort of business does a carpenter, tailor, and a student stop,

the door said.

Just stop.

It is a story.

It's a fun story where weird things happen.

We don't have to pick apart every little bit and laugh about it.

I was just trying to have fun and point out the inconsistency.

Yeah, oh, the inconsistencies?

Surprise!

A story that's been passed down orally for hundreds of years and then translated by a guy in the 1800s halfway around the world who might not even know the culture he's writing about has inconsistencies.

You're so smart and funny for noticing and pointing out every single one of them, but can we just enjoy a story, please?

For once, the Doris said, definitely not getting meta and referencing the early days of this podcast.

Okay, just...

Okay, sorry.

Please, continue.

The prince, suitably chastened, swallowed hard.

Anyway,

one night the carpenter got up with a wild idea and a beautiful image stuck in his head, the image of a young woman.

So, putting on some coffee, he went to work carving that woman out of a wooden block.

He worked like a madman until, a few hours later, a wooden statue that looked lifelike stood in the workshop.

All at once, exhaustion hit him and he went to bed.

But not ten minutes later, the tailor woke up and, seeing a beautiful young woman, decided that the statue needed some clothes.

He made her a dress and also fell back asleep.

Finally, the Softa woke up and, seeing the clothed wooden woman, and maybe being a little sleep-battled, prayed to Allah to grant the statue life before he, too, fell back asleep.

All three men awoke to the young woman sitting there, surrounded by wood chips, in the dress the tailor had for her, maybe contemplating her own existence because she just popped to life in the shop of a carpenter, tailor, and a student.

Now, who did the woman belong to?

The prince wanted to say no one because she was her own person, but he also got yelled at a lot for harping on that sort of stuff.

He decided to do it anyway, and after the door's obvious frustration with his inability to see that it was a different time, and the prince saying that it wasn't an inability to see that it was a different time, but rather his desire to not perpetuate older, often harmful values, they moved on.

The door said the carpenter deserved her because he carved her, and the prince said the tailor deserved her because it was the prince's turn to take the obviously wrong answer.

The princess said she couldn't believe it.

It was obviously the student.

She owed her life to him because of his prayer.

She stopped and saw the prince smiling.

And she sighed.

Okay, yes, she would marry him.

This whole plan was an attempt to find someone who didn't bore her.

She didn't necessarily agree with the tricky aspects of the storytelling, but boring, the prince was not.

Yes, she would marry him.

She, frankly, didn't have a choice.

The Padasha was out of ideas for how to execute this kid without it looking like he was just executing someone without cause.

So they would be married.

They all traveled home.

The princess, apparently still veiled seven times over, so she didn't turn everything glitter, and the tutor kind of happy to be sidelined by the bird.

Why can the bird talk?

Is it like a cursed prince or something?

Or like a dead wizard we inadvertently rescued at some point?

The tutor was confused.

It doesn't matter why I can talk.

it's not important, the bird said.

It doesn't matter, tutor, it's not important, the prince reiterated, and made the tutor get down from his horse and walk the horse all the way back as punishment, which, as you'll remember, is something like 15 months.

Returning, the prince and the formerly silent princess were married.

And after the wedding, the prince had one loose end to tie up.

He found the elderly woman, the one he hit with the golden ball, and invited her to join his household as a nanny to the future children of him and the silent princess.

She was the only one willing to stand up to him and help him grow, and his life was all the richer for her being in it.

The tutor raised his finger to open his mouth, about to say that he had been doing that the entire time, but the prince barked at him to not ruin this special moment.

Not everything was about him.

Only when spoken to, tutor, only when spoken to.

Not to go all prince telling the story and pointing out the inconsistencies, but if the silent princess, through nine veils, turned one mountain to glitter and the other blood red, wouldn't that make the prince's kingdom perpetually shiny red and glittery?

Please notice how funny and clever I am for pointing that out.

Next week, we're back in the world of Aesop's Fables, thanks to many a request on the Discord server for another one of those.

And I had way too much fun writing it.

It'll be a good week.

If you'd like to support the show for less than the price of pizza socks in a pizza box, they're pizza-themed socks that arrive in a pizza box, no surprise there, you can get extra episodes and ad-free versions of the show that are also themed and sometimes a little awkward.

Check out mythpodcast.com slash membership or find us on Apple Podcasts for more info on the membership.

The creature this week is the Abaya from Melanesian folklore.

Some creatures look out for their family.

Some creatures look out for their species.

Some creatures are just good creatures.

Anyone that enters their domain is under their protection no matter what.

And they will protect that animal by any means necessary.

Yes, they are so good that they will absolutely drown an entire village full of people to show how much they value life and want to protect it.

You see, one day, a man went to a lake and started fishing and it was amazing.

The lake was absolutely teeming and he could barely get them out fast enough.

They were practically jumping into his net.

He couldn't actually carry all of them back and had to toss some back in the lake.

And when he returned to his village, he shared them all around.

People could not believe the bounty.

Well, one could.

One elderly woman who didn't know anything beyond the fact that all of this seemed way too good to be true.

All those fish just jumping out, there were so many of them that were oblivious to hunters because something was protecting them.

She appreciated her neighbor wanting to share fish, but thanks but no thanks.

Well, since we're humans and we can't have nice things, the next day the entire village went out to just fish that lake completely empty, pull every last fish from the water, because even though there were way more fish than any human or even village could possibly eat before they rotted, they might miss out a little bit if their neighbors picked the lake clean.

So they were going to get every last fish so that all the others didn't get every last fish before them or, you know, sustainably fish the lake to ensure everyone had enough forever.

And they nearly did.

In fact, they got all but one of the water creatures, and the one they didn't get seemed really big and monstrous and kind of evil looking.

It was a massive eel where one woman managed to get a segment up out of the bottom of the lake, but no more.

Letting it drop, she and everybody else went home.

Well, that eel was the Abaya, and they just woke it up.

In addition to being able to pull human fissures into the lake, when it can manage to pull itself from bed, the abaya can also conjure storms and floods.

And that's what it did.

That night, rain poured, the ground refused to drink, and the people of the village, well, they all drowned.

All but the elderly woman who refused the fish gift.

The flood miraculously missed her house.

All because she didn't eat the cursed fish, and then go get all the other fish, and then wake up the giant evil eel, and then, knowing all that, eat all the other fish.

I would say all that seems fairly obvious, and it does.

Don't eat cursed fish.

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.

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