Jason Weiser (0:00)

This week on Myths and Legends, we're telling the stories of Renard the fox. You'll see how larping might just save your life and how if your dinner begs to be eaten, that might be a little suspicious. The creature this week is a seven headed Cyclops with destructive hobbies. This is Myths and Legends episode 409 nasty, brutish and short. 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. We're back in the stories of Renard and friends. Well, that's not strictly accurate. Renard doesn't really have friends. He's an anthropomorphic talking fox who lives in the beast kingdom. But other anthropomorphic talking animals, like Renard's greatest enemy, Isengrim the wolf, a wolf priest who is a wolf in priest's clothing. It's exactly what it sounds like. The Renard stories are oftentimes brutal parodies of other medieval texts. And while they were originally written in old French, the tales come from the Netherlands, France and Germany. We're not in any of those places today. Or maybe we're vaguely in all those places, but because we are in the Kingdom of the lion and he is not doing well. Rufanus, the king, who was a lion but not well. Yes, a Lion King, but not the Lion King, due to international trademark law, was sick. It was summer, there was no respite. His bed was in a deep shaded valley. But no one could figure out the cause of his illness. These were the Middle Ages and the cause of any illnesses were kind of a shot in the dark. But a lion's illness, well, someone had to have something. So the lion's heralds called forth the leaders of the beasts. Befritis of the goats, Grimoire, the chief of the boars, Riardas from the deer, Bruno of the bears. Joseph, the leader of the sheep, Isengrim of the wolves, Gutero leader of the hares, and the last and 100% least according to the other assembled nobles, Reynard governor and the glory of his race. The lion's herald read. Renard. The fox smiled. They all got to choose their own titles. He didn't know why the others didn't add. A little razzmatazz too. Renard bowed here in the flesh. Not for long. Isengrim the monk, who was also a very dangerous wolf, growled. You'll be attending the king in spirit soon. Isengrim salivated Because I. I'm going to eat your flesh, killing you and turning you into a spirit. Because you'll be dead. No, we all got it the first time, Bernard said. Eisengrum should have more faith in his own writing. Isengrim growled that he wasn't looking for notes, he was looking for the fox's skin and his flesh and his bones and his we really don't need to keep doing this, Renard, the fox said, closing his eyes and opening his arms. Well, let's get this over with. The wolf's hair stood on end. Oh, this was too perfect. He licked his non existent wolf lips and loped over to Reynard just in time to get absolutely laid out by Bruno the Bear. The King has decreed safe passage for all under penalty of death, the bear grumbled. Enjoy. Reynard laughed at the nobles who were lumbering toward the king. He turned and headed back to his burrow. What? You're not going? The bear asked. Are you serious right now? This is a serious question. I have my own to look after. The king will have you all and he won't even miss me, Renard said. A poor man like him was either unknown or despised at court, and those with wealth think they deserve to have him as a slave, that it's reward enough for the poor man to serve and remain despised. Let the wealthy obey the summons. What more reward for him was there in the king's service than simply staying alive? The rest of the animals shifted uncomfortably at this class conscious subtext that was quickly morphing into text. Bernard smiled and his sharp teeth flashed, but he lived to serve the king. Still, a servant doesn't jump to work without being commanded. When the king called him personally, he would come. He didn't think the king would care all that much, though. Renard was on no one's side, and no one was on his side. With that, Renard went back home. The king was in bad shape. He had a fever now. We know a bit more about medicine now, but it must have been harrowing to live in a time where you could get a fever and either it's something that will run its course in a few days, or you're dead. And they had no idea which it was. Isengrum didn't know, but that didn't stop him from diagnosing. He pushed the other animals aside and bowed before his king, taking his lion wrist into his own paw and feeling yes, yes, the lion had a pulse. That was a good thing. You need that. This fever wasn't much to worry about, though the lion looked up, cocking an eyebrow. What? Really? Oh, yeah. No, you're fine. You're going to be great. You just need some meat. You see, Ice and Grimm hadn't liked the way the goat snickered when the bear laid him out on the way to the meeting. And since the rightful focus of his anger, either Renard or Bruno, were out of reach at the moment, Renard by his cunning and Bruno by his strength. He had two get the goat and sheep killed, or face up to his own shortcomings, powerlessness and emotional immaturity. He, of course, chose the former. You need goat meat. Isengram smiled back just long enough to see the goat beginning to shake and his legs seize up. And before you go on about, oh, that'll break the king's peace, one, I'm a priest, you're absolved, don't worry about it. And two, which is more useful? The life of one sheep or goat, or the life of a king, a lion? That question basically answers itself. Isengram then went on to espouse the virtues of a system of government solely based off exploitation and might. Being right, he had been thinking about this and probably been on some pretty sketchy YouTube channels. Basically, his political philosophy boiled down to the king being the one to enforce the laws, and thus he he should not be bound by them. If he was bound by them, he was no better than the common peasant. He ruled. Isengram's words, not mine. And as God stands above his own creation and rules it, the ability to make and enforce the laws puts you above them. And the ruler's strength gave him the right to do whatever he wants. You see, if you haven't guessed, the stories of Renard are many things. And among those things, with a critique of human social and political systems being among those things, the king is literally a lion who not only rules, but needs to strategically consume his subjects. Predators have power, and even the priest Isengrim is a wolf, advocating for at best some sort of enlightened despot and at worst, naked authoritarianism. Isengram's problem. Well, one of Isengram's problems when it came to the king, at least, was that he was born boring. If you've ever been cornered by someone talking about politics or like cryptocurrency or something at a party, you know how the king felt. The annoyance was doubled by his illness, and the goat and the sheep saw their opening. Isengrim looked over and saw the pair next to him on their faces, hooves outstretched. He shook his head. What were they doing? They looked up. It was really bold of him to be so close to the king. It was almost like. No, no, he wouldn't dare. The lion got warm fuzzies by seeing these two animals bowing down to him. He loved it when things bowed down to him. He also loved hearing how great he was. My king, you are so great. Isengrim did not mean it. The goat pleaded as the sheep bleated. He wasn't trying to seem as great as you like. He could take your place. Icingrim straightened. What? No. They're twisting his words. The goat looked up. The wolf said, the king's power came from his strength. And here the wolf was standing over the king, who was stricken with fever. The king will be the first one to fall. If they listened to the wolf, they wouldn't put up with this egregious threat to their king or this flouting of his justice and decrees. They mean to enforce the king's justice. The wolf laughed, looking over at them. Oh, and how would they do that? Wait, weren't there two of you? There was two of them. Joseph. The sheep had moved to Isengram's other side, and as the goat screamed out justice. They began kicking him back and forth between them. Now, when making a play for the throne, you either have to be charismatic and offer the people something, or you have to be so powerful they can't ignore you. Isengrim. The wolf was neither of those things. The leader of the boars, and Bruno, the leader of the bears, laughed even though Isengram was speaking in support of their own interests, of, you know, consuming whatever they wanted. They just really, deeply hated the guy. But Eisengrim occupied the gray area where he was strong enough that it would be more annoying to confront and get rid of him than it was to just ignore him and make fun of him behind his back. Still, they didn't hate watching him bounce back and forth between the violent hooves of the sheep and the goat. The boar nudged the bear and gestured with a snout. The king was loving this. The lion sat up, brightened by, I mean, like, take your pick, the obsequiousness of the goat and the sheep. Someone fanatically and violently fulfilling his command. Or just that it was Isengram getting kicked around. Remember, no one likes that guy. Bruno could see which way the wind was blowing, though, and decided to help his own position a bit. When he went and grabbed Isengrim by the scruff and said it was time to go, the wolf acquiesced. Because when a bear has his paws to your throat. What else are you going to do? And took a seat at the back of the meeting behind the skunks. The king thanked the goat and the sheep for so fervently enforcing his will. And the sheep said he was grateful for the king's approval of their actions. We only exist to serve you. The sheep smiled. The goat said, what's this we talk? Remember when I said this story was a maybe overly cynical, maybe deeply realistic take on human political and social systems, depending on your own level of cynicism? Well, yeah. There was one seat next to the king. And alliances existed only so far as they helped you. Perfidious. The goat wasn't so much anti animal eating as he was anti perfidious eating. With Isengram shamed and no longer throwing his own future into question, it was time to throw the sheep's future into question to increase his own position. The world can be a hard place, immeasurably so. If at every business meeting there was the implicit possibility of you being murdered and consumed by everyone surrounding you. The sheep hadn't made it so far in being alive by addressing questions like this directly, though he said, yes, you know what? The goat was right. And the king was still sick. And Isengram was right because he had all that priest medical training. So the king needed meat. You know who's super smart and always seemed to know the answer to stuff? Renard. Hey, Renard. Who should be eating here? Joseph. The sheep, of course, knew that Renard was essentially playing hooky, mainly objecting based on his very specific complaints on power and class. And also because these meetings were boring and there was always like a 20% chance that someone would try to eat him. That percentage was a lot higher as the king discovered what the rest of the crowd already knew. Renard wasn't there. We'll see how Renard deals with tattletales, but that will be right after this. So you've heard the stories. Monsters battled, quests conquered, kingdoms saved. But what happens after, after the legend ends, you know, they go to sleep. And if they're smart, they do it on a ghostbed. You have to read between the lines, but it's happening. It's there. The folks at Ghostbed are true sleep experts. It's a family owned company with over 20 years of experience and more than 60,000 five star reviews. Each mattress is made in the USA with premium materials and is built to last. And their newest mattress lineup has something for every type of sleeper. You can choose from. Three mattresses. The Comfort the Signature or the Luxe with all foam and hybrid options. Plus they all include Ghostbed's exclusive Pro core support layer, which gives you extra support where your body needs it most, right at your midsection. 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You smell great all day and best of all, it only costs eight bucks. Be your own icon. Shower with Harry's. Try Harry's Body Wash today for just $8 at harry's.com legends. That's harry's.com legends for a sniff of this incredible body was hey, Renard. Gutero, the leader of the hares, came to visit Renard, who was gorging himself on, quote, a heap of meat at his house. The rabbit grimaced. Any context or explanation for that? No. Cool, the hare said. The king was looking for him and he was mad. Renard looked up from his meat heap. Oh, that was fantastic, Gutero. The hair blinged. It was. Renard nodded. Oh yeah. Anyone who wasn't worth hating wasn't worth loving. And frankly, the hatred and anger of the mighty was of more use to the cunning than their favor was to the fool. Besides, neither lasts long, okay? So are you coming or. The hare was getting tired of whatever this was. No. Tell him you couldn't find me, renard said. He would be there, though. Whatever. It's your funeral. Probably. Literally, the hare said, and left. Back at the meeting, the king laid back down when he heard. Bernard was nowhere to be found. Already overexerting himself, he could barely manage to sit upright. The animals looked at each other. No one wanted this. The lion might not be the best ruler, but he was better than chaos. If he died without an heir, the predators would fight each other to see who got to rule. Most of them would die, and the prey animals would no longer have the protection of the lion's piece. Almost all of them would die. Is it possible that something better could emerge in time? Maybe the keywords there, though, were in time. And maybe there would be years of chaos and violence until that happened. Or didn't. So that's why everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief when Renard the Fox finally arrived. Imagine the most elaborate medieval healer larping that you can think of. Then double it. Renard stumbled in under so many herbs, powders, potions, and tinctures that he could barely walk. My lord and King, I apologize for my delay. I have traveled the world to be here with you, and I only now just returned. Renard bowed. No, he didn't. We all just saw him outside, like a few hours ago, and he didn't look all dirty and well traveled. Isengram called out from the front of the crowd. He had been slowly working his way forward to the lowest spot of the animals in charge. No one was going to back him up on this. They all watched him get beaten and shamed. And if Renard had a plan, and Renard always had a plan, it was better than waiting around for the lion to die. Renard stumbled in and held up his shoes. Six shoes, all worn through. He said he had a dream about this several months ago, that the king was going to die. The crowd gasped, looking his own mortality directly in the eye. The king trembled a bit, but Renard turned to face the crowd. I knew I couldn't just let that happen. So, prodded by this premonition, he went on a journey. A journey to save the King. It took him through three lands. Hungary. He raised up one pair of shoes and began speaking Hungarian. As far as anyone in attendance knew, the next pair of soless shoes were described in something that sounded almost, but not completely unlike Greek and then Latin, which Isengrim actually knew enough of to know that Renard didn't. But once again, no one listened to him. Now, though, Renard took a bowl from his pack and filled it with herbs and various aromatic liquids. He said that it was funny his teacher in all of this was actually Isengrims. A wolf. In Rome, Isengrim was taught this very method. Curious then, that he should have forgotten it, or. No, no, he would never withhold it from the king. Ah, Renard said. There. He pushed the bowl of herbs to the king. Well, that was almost everything he needed to save the king from his fever. The king, holding the bowl in his paws, said, what? Almost. What was the last thing? Bernard shook his head. No, sorry. It was impossible to obtain. The lion grew serious. He was a king. Nothing was impossible for him to obtain. What was it? The one who has it wouldn't want to give it. Not even to save his king. While the miser values his possessions, you'll not make him do the decent thing under any circumstances. He sighed. These herbs are nothing without the final piece of the remedy. They must be taken. And then the patient must sweat under the skin of a wolf that's three and a half years old. With this, Isengrim backed up, but found the crowd. He had just moved through a wall. Uncle Renard turned to look at the wolf. Are you leaving on a pilgrimage? You don't need to. The king called the bear and bore to him, whispering in their ears. Bruno nodded. The king commands you to bring a three and a half year old wolf from your clan here that it may be skinned that he could live. Bruno said. Isengram smiled. You know what? Absolutely. He would leave and go find them right at this moment by leaving. Renard put his hand on Isengrim's shoulder. Oh, the miser. The mean man. He would rather lose what he has than sell it for a price. He'll endure losses just to hold on to what cash he has. Oh, misers hate misers. For sure. Ice and Grimm tried to get away, but Reynard was holding onto him. Oh. Oh, Isengrim. Oh, no. Why are you like this? I tried. Renard turned to face the king. I tried to give him time to do the right thing, but he'd rather save his own skin than give it up. I would rather save the king. Renard sighed. I'm sorry, brother, he said as he put his paw on Isengram's shoulder and took a deep breath. Isengram, the wolf is three and a half. The crowd gasped. Isengrim reeled. No. What? He was like 40. Look at all these gray hairs. Renard didn't point out that Isengram was a gray wolf and he had always been gray. No. Instead, the story went into a long legal rambling about Isengrim's age, where Renard called the goat and the sheep. You know those people who are just beating Isengrim to ask if they remembered Wink. That conversation, Wink. Where they talked about Isengrim's upcoming 4th birthday. Wink, wink. He's even saying Wink. Isengrim pleaded. Oh, I'm sorry. It's a tic I have when I'm concerned because I love my king so much. Renard said, and the crowd awed. Meanwhile, the king was reduced to eating herbs and, like, random vegetables, basically trash, because Isengrim refused him the skin. You gave him those? That's your remedy? Isengrim barked. Renard sighed. Look, it was easy. The king would give it back to him when he was done. Isengrim could keep the skin on his arms, and he could keep his claws. No, no, no, no. Joseph. The sheep bleated. He saw Reynard's game here. His con Renard's eyes widened. He hadn't expected to be called out, least of all by Joseph. It was a terrible thing that Renard was asking. That was only half the fur on Isengram's body. That wouldn't be enough to save the king. Reynard was jealous of the honor Isengrim was getting, and so he was sabotaging it. You're welcome, Isengrim. Joseph nodded solemnly. Please stop talking, Isengrum said, and I'll spare you the rest of it. Bruno had the honors. Using one of his razor claws and easily holding the shrieking wolf down, he sliced Isengram in several places and pulled. In a few minutes, Isengrim was naked. But, like, without his skin. Naked. Probably the most naked. Now, I don't really have enemies, but if I did, I'd like to think I'd probably stop there. At skinning them alive for no reason whatsoever. Remember how I said that no one really liked Isengrim, though? Well, they decided to press things even farther. The closest I've ever gotten to skinning an animal is playing red Dead Redemption 2. So I can kind of see where this next part is coming from. He's purple. Joseph cried and pointed. And yeah, beneath his fur and skin, Isengrim's muscles and stuff were purple. Ish. Bruno the bear wrapped the king in, frankly, the very gross and likely slimy wolf skin. And the rest of the crowd reeled. Who did this wolf think he was wearing a purple cloak? Now, if you didn't know and I, I didn't until I binged the History of Rome by Mike Duncan about 12 years ago. Purple was the color of the Roman emperors and thus royalty, and Isengrim. The wolf dared to wear it. This is literally my exposed muscles and organs. What is happening? Isengrim wept. The animals were incensed. To wear a secret purple cloak inwardly and then deny the king the cloak needed to save his life. Terrible. Just terrible. Isengrim knew when to fold him, though, and he shrunk to his knees, dropping his snout to the ground. He said he was sorry. It was his arrogance and pride, Bernard said, that the wolf had earned his forgiveness. Didn't the king think? The king, sweating out his fever, nodded. He did not care. Yes, forgiveness. Whatever. The wolf rose and the king commanded, wait. Isengrim froze. Oh, no. What now? Thank Renard. The king pointed. Renard had recommended mercy, and the wolf should thank him. That Renard was the one to recommend skinning the wolf was lost on no one except the king, and Isengrim growled. Still, the longer Isengrim remained, the more he risked. Thank you, Isengram muttered. Renard smiled. Back anytime. With that, the ceremony was over. Corvagaras. The horse stopped dead in the marsh. Whoa, whoa, whoa, the stork said, holding up his wings. What is it? A predator. The horse froze. Glancing around, the stork breathed, no. Oh, my gosh. He should be so lucky. No, it was his talons. The horse had no idea the stork could have killed him. With your. With your talons? The horse bit at some of the reeds poking up and chewed. Yeah, that's why we're out here, right? Because, like me, you're worried about your feet causing earthquakes, and so you're keeping them in the marsh because it's soft and absorbs the shock. The stork nodded. Um, no. No one is worried about that. Are you worried about that he was out here for food because the predators generally wouldn't disadvantage themselves to wait out in the muck so he could eat in peace. Not me, bro, the stork said. No, he wasn't worried about himself. He was worried about everyone else. He just he didn't want to kill again. What are you even talking about, Corvagaras? The horse asked what was going on here. Horses have it the worst. Storks are always landing on them and crushing them. The stork said it was because they look strong, but they folded like a baguette, slowly and brutally with a lot of cracking. The horse grimaced, but he shook his head. He had never heard of a horse being killed by a stork. Pointing, the stork said, exactly. No one had ever lived to tell about made sense in a way that was perfectly reasonable if you didn't think at all about the logic behind it. And the horse didn't really think at all about the logic behind it. He only knew that he was down in the water with the most dangerous animal he had ever known. If you don't believe me, I can show you, the stork said. But Corvagaras wasn't waiting around for that. He, according to the text, panic, farted and then rushed from the water just like the stork who was annoyed that the horse was in his fishing spot and who didn't want to get accidentally trampled by the horse during his own hunt, had been hoping for the horse went from one hunt to the other. Only he didn't realize this was a hunt. Frankly, neither did Isengrim the wolf, until he turned the corner and saw Corvagaras right there. Um, where's your skin? The horse looked the wolf up and down, less afraid than very confused. Iceengrim said, oh, that was quite a story. You see, he just came from the king's meaning for all the important. The horse wasn't invited, was he? Well, anyway, the king was sick. He needed a sweating cure for his fever, and the wolf knew that the only medical intervention that would save him was his own skin, so he gave it willingly. Now the wolf paced left and right, getting closer to the horse and backing him up to the water. I need a different skin. And everyone at court said you were the one. They said that you loved your king and all who helped him. I don't need it for long. Just until mine grows back. The horse Corvagaras snorted and looked to the ground. That while he did love his king, and he was grateful for Isengrim giving the king his own skin so willingly? Isengrim nodded. Yes, it certainly was willingly. He could tell that Corvagaras was so eager to give this gift that Isengrim's lengthy speech was irritating to him. So he would sweeten the deal. He would also help Corvagaras lose some weight. In the process, he would help the horse lose just the fat. It would make him faster. He wouldn't take the flesh and bone, of course, and only a few bites would help Isengrim. Besides, the horse could eat grass and turn that into flesh. That was a good deal. The king himself decreed a royal thank you to whomever gave his coat to the wolf. The horse looked at the wolf and said, how dare you. Isengrim chuckled nervously. What? He was not expecting this kind of pushback from a prey animal. How dare you ask this of me? The horse snorted, this time in an annoyance. Did Isengrim really think that a friend needed to ask? Isengram cocked his head. So Corvagaras would do it. Corvagaras laughed. Of course, when the king needed Isengrim's coat, Isengrim didn't need to be dragged like a prisoner to give it up. He gave it up willingly. Corvagaras would follow his example. Corvagaras looked over his shoulder to the stork in the pond. Thing was that guy over there. He means business. Isengrim squinted. Him? Oh yeah. So we should go to the forest, lest he see you taking off my skin and eating me and thinking that something bad was going down. I literally don't know where he sits on the alignment chart. If he'd kill you and eat me, or kill you and save me because he thinks something bad is happening, best to do it in private, in the woods, bisongrimm said. Yes, that was indeed wise. In the woods, where no one could see or hear, they started off toward the woods. Your hair's looking a little scruffy. Want me to give you a haircut? Corvagaras asked as the wolf trailed behind him into the forest. Isengrim ran his hand through his hair, his tonsure. The shaved bare spot at the top of his head had regrown. Then he thought about it. How did the horse give haircuts? Oh, I have razor blades on my feet. I do it for all the monks in the area. Why do you think they're always giving us horses hay? Basengrim shook his head. None of this made sense. Wouldn't footraisers be dulled by the road or paths or anything? Oh, for sure But I have my own strop so it's all good. The wolf had a bag and stuff, but the horse was completely naked. Where was his strop? And yeah, Renard's stories oscillate wildly between cynical political allegory and bathroom humor, all while remaining in the orbit of extreme violence. So think about a leather strop and then think about the one part of a male horse that's similar in length and shape to a strop. Yeah. Oh, so that's what that is. Isengrum nodded. Still, he couldn't believe that Corvagaras had razor blades on his feet. Oh, for sure. Here, take a look. Corvagaras gestured back over his shoulder when Isengram was directly behind him, waiting for that look at Korvagaras back hoof. Well, he gave him that look at the hoof, a very fast one, but it was thorough and up close. Isengrum caught the horse hoof in the face and flew back like five feet, hitting the tree. The horse felt different. Oh. He shook his foot. Darn it. His shoe had come off and implanted itself right in Isengram's forehead. Corvagaras laughed. Well, he actually did give the wolf a ring in his head. Nice. The stork called out from the water. The horse, spooked by the super strong stork, bolted into the woods. We'll see how Renard deals with Isengrim when the wolf pays him a visit at home, but that will once again be right after this. Okay, so our son is literally doing an outschool class right now. I know that sounds convenient because I'm doing an outschool ad, but he does them on Tuesday evenings and I'm very far behind on the podcast so it is happening right now. Downstairs talked about it before of course, but it's a writing class and it has helped him so much this year. The class gave him the structure and the confidence to write full fledged essays before he goes to middle school. And the cool thing is that he actually likes it. He looks forward to it. This evening he remembered the time his class started and reminded Carissa and me. Outschool, if you didn't know, is an online learning platform that offers interactive small group classes that are fun and social. They're video classes that can be taken anytime we've done them while traveling. They also have one on one tutoring and clubs. It's awesome. And best of all they have real life vetted humans teaching the classes. And really every outschool instructor has been fantastic. If you want to try Outschool. You can now get up to $20 off your child's first class or tutoring session for a limited time. This exclusive discount is only available when you go to Outschool.com legends and use code legend legends at checkout. That's Outschool.com legends and use Code Legends for up to $20 off your child's first class or tutoring session on Outschool. Outschool. Take charge of their future. This show is sponsored by BetterHelp. If I was like trying to walk around with a broken leg, that's a bit extreme, but let's go with it. That doesn't just affect me and it affects my family, my co workers who also happen to be my family, friends, random people. You'd be like, you should go get some help for that. I think it's the same with mental health. Whatever you're going through, that doesn't just affect you, even though you might think it does. Even if you're not snapping at strangers or something, you might not be your full flourishing self. This Mental Health Awareness Month, let's encourage everyone to take care of their well being and break the stigma. The world is better when people are healthy and happy Therapy has been immeasurably helpful for me in my life. I've talked about it before and if you're thinking about therapy, consider BetterHelp. They have over a decade of experience matching people with the right therapist. You're not limited by the people or specialties in your area. In fact, they have a diverse network of over 30,000 licensed therapists and you can easily switch at no extra cost. It's also fully online so it fits around your schedule and it's affordable, easy and convenient. We're all better with help. Visit betterhelp.commyths to get 10% off your first month. That's betterhelp H-E-L-P.commyths hey, hi, Renard said, standing over Isengrim. Um, me and my family, we're. We're trying to sleep, you know, with the winter coming up. Think maybe you can suffer somewhere else? Or at least more quietly. Renard's wife walked up to him and whispered in his ear as he stood over the form of the weeping, shivering Isengrim in the forest. No, no, you're right. He nodded and looked down to Isengra. We actually think the silent, anguished cries of your tormented soul might be worse for the kids, you know, if they know you're out here. Probably good to find somewhere else to be. You teeth chattering so loudly that Renard initially thought it was someone chopping wood. Isengram looked up. You. You did this to me. He growled. Even with the patchy fur just starting to grow, he was still a wolf many times the size of Renard. Renard said he thought he heard the kids, and his wife went back to the burrow. When she was gone, he met the wolf's eyes. I survive. It's what I do. I'm a survivor. You bring me into a situation and it goes wrong for you, that's on you. I'm not on your side. I'm not on the king's side. I'm on my side. Renard's claw pointed to his chest. Isengram glanced at his burrow. Yeah, sure. Them too, I guess. Renard said he told Isengram that the wolf knew better than to tattle on him and bring him to court. Isengram said that that wasn't him. That was Joseph the sheep. Then your beef isn't with me. It's with Joseph. Or rather your mutton. Renard smiled. Joseph had a family of 12, and they lived in a field. I mean, I'm not saying they're begging to be eaten, but a field? Seriously? Renard sighed. Look, he was sorry about how things went down. The wolf had his size and teeth and claws. Renard had his cunning. That's it. If Isengram wanted, he would show the wolf the field where Joseph and his little sheeplets lived. Truce. Reynard held out a paw. He was met with the wolf's skin paw. Ugh. He was looking forward to Isengrum's fur growing back. This was off putting. As the pair walked off in the moonlight, Isengrim looked down at Reynard. You know what you said about the size and teeth and the claws? I could kill you right now. Isengrim's mouth began dripping with saliva. Murnard looked up and met his eyes once again. I skinned you alive in 10 minutes with my words. Isengrim nodded. Just. That was just a fun hypothetical. Of course, the eating Renard thing, fun little thought experiment had no bearing on actual reality. Haha. Yeah, that's what he thought. Um, maybe don't be you, Bernard said to the hairless wolf as they approached the sheepfold. What do you mean don't be me? I'm delightful. The wolf snarled. Just like be nice. Be lead with some flattery and some peace. You're a priest, right? Say priestly stuff. Peace be upon you, brethren. Isengrim stood and stretched his arms out. Joseph's 12 children huddled behind him, but he remained planted in the center of the sheepfold. Oh, it was the wolf Isengrim. What did he want? I want what's owed to me for your insolence. Isengrim growled quickly, throwing away all that peace stuff. I will take everything you have, everything you are, as payment, and your 12 children as interest. The saliva began to drip once again from his mouth. Promise. Joseph stepped forward. Icing, Grimm said he didn't care how much Joseph begged for his. Wait. What did Joseph say? Yeah, you're gonna eat me, right? Joseph shrugged. Great. What did he think Joseph wanted? To be eaten by some, like, rando peasant? He was there when Isengram's father ate his father. It was only fitting that Isengrim ate him. That actually tracks, Renard chimed in. Could you maybe leave one of his kids alive so your children can hunt his for the next generation? Oh, could you? Joseph bleated. Uh, sure, I guess. Nice and grim froed his wolf brow. I peed on Iceengrim's kids. Renard chimed in again, just reminding everyone of the canon. I peed on his kids. Cool. See what I mean, though? Joseph said. With you eating me, it just felt right. Otherwise, I have to deal with little weirdos like Renard. Anyway, where do you want to do this? If we wait long enough for morning for the shepherd to return, you're going to have problems. And if we go into the woods, your family might decide they want to bite. In fact, Joseph began to pace. That's a problem. I want you to eat me, not some unnamed wolf who isn't a descendant from a wolf who ate my dad. Then he did a short hop. Wait. Did Isengram think he could eat Joseph in one go? That way he didn't have to fight any wolves or. He took a distasteful look. Foxes for the scraps of him. Renard shot him a nasty look right back. Isengrum said he usually liked to enjoy his food, but think of the mouthful. Me, I'll go straight from your mouth to your entrails. All at once. Joseph was getting weirdly excited about this. Um, sure, I guess. But how? Isengram started opening his mouth as wide as he could, trying to gauge if the sheep would even fit. Joseph gestured over to the shed that the shepherd used sometimes. Here there were some holes by the door frame, and Isengrim stuck his lower paws in when he got there, per Joseph's instructions. It was still weird that Joseph was so into being consumed. Look, I'm an old sheep. I've had 12 children. At a certain age, you accept your own mortality and you're more concerned with legacy. This just makes sense. Okay, now brace your back against that pillar so I can jump down your throat. The story assures us that this logic checks out, that it was possible for the sheep to actually be eaten all in one go if he ran and jumped feet first. He, however, did not. So male sheep do naturally have horns. If you think a sheep charging at someone's face as fast as he can sounds like it might be painful. You've thought about this more than Isengrim did. You flinched. Joseph yelled after hitting Isengrim's head against the pillar and tearing his horns through the wolf's soft palate. The wolf, shrieking, collapsed. Get him up. I want to be eaten. Joseph cried. Renard obliged, dazed and, you know, probably concussed. Iceengrim stood with Renard's helpcoercion. You used to eat six sheep as an appetizer, and now you're falling down at the taste of one. Joseph yelled. He ran and tried again after this. Isengrim, bloody and broken, was crawling away after just a taste. Look how far you've fallen. Joseph yelled out after him. Pitiful. Hey, tell all your wolf friends how good mutton tastes. I'll be happy to give them a little taste, too. Joseph cried out after the wolf, who crawled toward the forest as fast as he could while the sun rose behind him. You look hungry. Renard smiled out of absolutely nowhere. I'm a lion. I'm always hungry, the Lion King said. Renard pointed. Well, then, he was in luck. Renard had dinner for him. Well, Renard didn't. He was actually just a messenger for Isengrim. The wolf. The king had healed, and Isengrim's fur had regrown completely. The wolf. He was no longer sufficiently cowed and was starting to get a little bit more menacing. Renard had resolved to fix that. He told the king that the wolf wanted to express his thanks to the king for allowing him to help. So he wanted to have the king over for dinner. Hey. So, bad news. Renard whispered to Isengrim. Inside the wolf's den. Isengrim shrieked and his kids cowered and the wolf asked him how he got in here, but Renard didn't answer. The king was outside. He wanted to dine with Isengrim. What? Why? Isengrim blurted out. He wants to honor you. I don't know. Look, I can help. There's a cow nearby, Renard said. Moments later, they walked out the front door. Your Grace, Isengrim smiled at the lion. He was so glad the lion stopped by for dinner. So honored, Renard actually had what they would be eating that evening. Right, Renard? Right this way. The fox smiled. They spotted the heifer in the field. Now, I'm not sure exactly what rules we're operating under, but the king's peace did not seem to apply to cows. Maybe there's something to read into there. Regardless, the cow was ordered to yield her flesh, and she obliged. She wasn't given much of a choice, or any. She was asked with teeth and claws and obeyed when the lion's weight forced her to the ground and the teeth tore into her throat. I'll divide the meat for us, Isengrim said. When the cow stopped moving, the king wiped his bloody mouth. Oh, sure, they wouldn't just tear at this corpse like animals. Go ahead. So the wolf set to it. Front, middle, back, 1, 2, 3, in order of importance. The king, obviously first, and then him. Isengrim. Then a distant, distant third. So far away. Renard one front, two middle, third, back. It was only when he saw Reynard snickering and Rufanus the king looming that he thought something might be wrong. This is how you divide the spoils. You jump in front of me and take what you want. You leave me the head and Renard the rear, and you take the best for yourself. Isengrim looked. Oh, no. Yeah, the king was right. He wasn't trying to offend. Then I hope you're not offended by my compensation. The lion roared and tore Isengrim's skin from his body for the second time in nearly a year. Isengrim shrieked and collapsed, gripping his sticky purple of the whatever part of the body that is. As the lion put his cloak on, he actually kind of missed it. A giant wolf cloak was like a whole game of Thrones Vibe. Renard said he would love to be so honored as to have the king wear his skin twice. As for him, he wanted to give his part of the heifer to the king. At this, the Lion King grew serious. Alongside Isengrim's tears, he growled that he was no common thief to take what wasn't his. No, they would still divide the corpse. But Renard could do it. Renard said. Sure, but he loved his friend the wolf. It wouldn't do it unless the wolf was pardoned for offending the king. The king inspected his luscious new wolf cloak, flicking a flea off. You know what? Sure. So Renard made three piles that were all equal. The first was the king's fat and delicious. The second was to take to the queen, who just gave birth and needed her strength, and the third to the young cubs who could grow strong teeth by chewing on the bones. What about him? The king pointed to Isengrim, now rocking back and forth in the fetal position. I don't think he's hungry. As for me, Renar produced a hoof. He was little. That was all he needed. The king thanked Renard for his magnanimity and left with the food. Several minutes after he left, Isengram sat up and flew to Reynard, hugging him. Thank you, thank you, Isengrim wept. You got me pardoned. You got ahead of yourself, reynard said. Where there is abundance, it is good to be content with sufficiency. If you have been wise, you would have left unharmed and on good terms with the king. Isengrim's foe was his own greed. Greed and discretion can't coexist. You bit when you should have licked. Power takes no notice when people lick, but when they bite, power bites back. Isengrim said. Yes, Reynard was so wise. He was so lucky to have a friend like the fox. Yes you are, Isengrim. Yes you are. Renard patted him on the back and then grimaced when his hand came away sticky. That's where we'll leave things with Renard. I think we have one more Renard story left and it does wrap things up, but that will be for a later date. Next week we're back in Japanese folklore and we're in the provinces telling five interconnecting stories of love, loss and surprising cliff mushrooms real quickly. If you want to get ad free and bonus episodes, check out mythpodcast.com membership or find us on Apple Podcasts. And if you'd like to connect with the community, I did some work on the Discord server to make it easier to connect and talk about the show. We have a fun little community growing over there and you can find us by going to Myths link Discord, or by following the link in the show notes. The creatures this week are the devs from Armenia and I'm not talking about Armenian software developers unless the seven eyed seven headed humanoid giants from Armenian folklore decided to do a hard pivot late in life to a different career and took up coding. No judgment. I know people where that's really worked out so good for them. There is a lot of overlap between cultures when it comes to this creature, so please forgive me if I unintentionally equate the Armenian dev with the Georgian dev or the Iranian dev The Armenian ones, though, enjoy the simple pleasures of harassing travelers and boulder fights. Like I said, according to one source, the they have seven heads and one eye in the center of each headquote the size of a bowl. It's like a cyclops. But can a creature be called a Cyclops if it has seven heads each with one eye? It doesn't feel right. We're obviously asking the real and important questions here on Myths and Legends. They're said to be fallen angels, so Dev seems to fit when they're not trying to give each other brain damage with their favorite games. And I mean, they do have a lot of brains to spare, so they're probably okay. They're gardeners guarding their flower gardens before you think they have a heart of gold, though. Some versions of them catch fairies in cages and keep them there, torturing them because they have to touch iron until they starve because they can't smell perfumes as part of a multi generational war between the devs and the fairies. That all sounds really specific and cool, but I couldn't find anything more about it and some places say that it's part of the Persian version. Regardless, whether they're throwing rocks or imprisoning fairies, head up the mountain and try to convince them to make that career change and like learn python or something. Then run because in some versions the dev can actually turn into a python. 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. Hey, it's Ryan Seacrest for Albertsons and Safeway this spring. 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