Dr Hermes Reviews - ROBERT E HOWARD
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KULL

"The Shadow Kingdom"

(July 14, 2004)

From the August 1929 issue of WEIRD TALES, this is an early story from Robert E. Howard that is just amazingly intense, packed with creative details and written with the enthusiasm of a young man just aching to tell his tales. "The Shadow Kingdom" is for most of its length essentially a horror story, with a feeling of genuine paranoia and hidden menace all around; then, instead of having the protagonist swoon or go mad from what he has seen (as he might well do in a H.P. Lovecraft or Frank Belknap Long version of this premise), Howard's hero whips out his sword and goes to town. The effect is really satisfying, getting the reader all anxious and uncertain and then settling things in a blast of pure carnage.

"The Shadow Kingdom" was part of a dozen stories Howard pounded out about King Kull, a barbarian from Atlantis who usurped the throne of the decadent nation of Valusia. WEIRD TALES only purchased two of these yarns (Kull did make a guest shot in the Bran Mak Morn tale, "Kings of the Night"), so the young author from Texas reworked a Kull story to feature a more earthy, less philosophical barbarian in a similar situation. This was the first appearance of Conan the Cimmerian, who immediately took over Howard's typewriter and refused to let him write any more stories of Kull, Solomon Kane, Bran Mak Morn or Francis X. Gordon (too bad).

The story is obsessed with masks and deception. Even before Kull learns about the creatures infiltrating his kingdom, he sits brooding on his throne and reflects "Strange to him were the intrigues of court and palace, army and people. All was like a masquerade, where men and women hid their real thoughts with a smooth mask." He has no idea how true this is. An ambassador from the savage nation of Pictdom reveals the dire truth by leading the new King on a stealthy midnight stroll through his own palace, to find that the eighteen elite guards protecting him lie seemingly dead in a hidden chamber and eighteen identical imposters have taken their place. This is just the beginning of the nightmare.

It turns out that all the kingdoms of that age were trapped in a secret war with the ultimate conspiracy. Forget about the Illuminati, or the Si-Fan or THRUSH... those guys were only humans with human greed and ambitions. What we are dealing with here are the Serpent Men, murderous creatures who can disguise themselves with a mask of illusion to resemble exactly any human. Plotting and scheming, pitting nations against each other, the snake men are so evil and influential that it is taboo to even mention them. ("No man trusts his fellow and the true statesmen dare not speak to each other what is in the minds of all.")

These creatures are the only survivors of all the assorted grotesque monsters which were wiped out by humans long before history began, and which are only vaguely remembered in myths and legends. This was a theme Howard returned to often, most effectively in his story "Wings In the Night" where Solomon Kane tackles a nest of Harpies deep inside Africa.

And yet, you would think knowledge of these Serpent People would get out quickly, because they revert to their true forms when killed. ("... the features mingled and merged in a seemingly impossible manner. Then, like a fading mask of fog, the face suddenly vanished and in its stead gaped and leered a monstrous serpent's head!") Something like that happening in public would be kinda hard to overlook.

There is a way to tell a true human from one of the Serpent People, fortunately. This is to demand they speak the phrase "Ka nama kaa lajerama", a dead giveaway. Only real humans can manage those words, "for none but a real man of men may speak them, whose jaws and mouth are shaped different from any other creature. Their meaning has been forgotten, but not the words themselves." Howard may have swiped this concept from that incident in the Old Testament where the password was "Shibboleth" (or, actually, since the time of Kull was thousands of years before the Biblical era, it might have been the other way around, I suppose). It's a strangely haunting concept. Ka Nama Kaa Lajerama. Stencil those words on a T shirt or put them on a bumper sticker and see if you start being shadowed by suspicious looking characters.

Kull just about gives in to a complete paranoid seizure. For all he knows, EVERYONE in his court is one of the Snake People, spying on his every move and waiting for the right moment to assassinate him and put an imposter on the throne. In fact, at a crucial moment when he is supposed to have been killed, Kull peeks into the throne room and sees what looks exactly like him making a speech. You or I might have a stroke, but the Atlantean king is already going for his sword...

Not putting Conan down, but frankly I prefer many of Robert E. Howard's other heroes. Where the Cimmerian is concerned with bluntly satisfying his appetites and getting some loot, Kull keeps tackling existential problems. He seeks wisdom and understanding, wrestles with concepts like death, time and space, reality and illusion. Of course, he is perfectly capable of picking up an axe or sword and cutting a dozen attackers to pieces all over the room. He is a barbarian warrior, after all, but he also has curiosity. This gives his stories a little extra depth.

I have reservations about this Atlantean berserker business, though, where the warriors concentrate only on slaying and give no thought to defending themselves. If not for his Pict friend helping out and warding off some blows, Kull would be quickly killed in the big showdown. This berserker stuff might sound impressive and "Extreme!" but in practice, it would be self-defeating and mean a real short career.

This story features Brule, the Spear-Slayer, who will become Kull's Tonto. Brule is a noble savage who could easily star in his own series. It's stupefying to realize that the Picts of Kull's time are still Stone Age savages fifty thousand years later in the time of Turlogh O'Brien. Talk about hopeless cases. Brule's people are dark, handsome athletic types sort of like the typical Iroquois brave. By the time of Bran Mak Morn, they have really let themselves go to pot and are stunted apelike goons (Bran himself still remains like Brule through careful breeding). Despite the fact that most of Howard's heroes were tall blue-eyed Celtic types, he was fascinated by these grim swarthy little buggers. In a story set in modern times, he even mentions the Cult of Bran, which worships a stone statue containing the chieftain's spirit. Yep, the Picts will rise again!

"The Mirrors of Tuzun Thune"

(Nov 12, 2005)

From the September 1929 issue of WEIRD TALES, King Kull turns into Alice Liddel. Well, almost. This is a moody little existential piece where the king of Valusia wrestles with heavy philosophical problems and forgets to watch his back. Although he has his share of battles and swordfights, the image I always retain of Kull is in the pose of Rodin's statue "The Thinker", staring off into space from his uneasy throne.

"The Mirrors of Tuzun Thune" is quite a change of pace for Robert E. Howard, as only one murderous blow with a weapon is struck (and we as readers don't witness it, either.) Instead of the usual hectic slaughter, there is much discussion on the nature of reality and a supernatural menace that qualifies this as a "Weird Tale" indeed. I can't help but think this story shows a lot of the convoluted brooding Howard did late at night after a few beers, when the whole town was asleep and he was left with his thoughts.

For one thing, the story opens with one of the most evocative bits of writing Howard ever did. "There comes, even to kings, the time of great weariness. Then the gold of the throne is brass, the silk of the palace becomes drab.The gems in the diadem sparkle drearily like the ice of the white seas; the speech of men is as the empty rattle of a jester's bell, and the feel comes of things unreal; even the sun is copper in the sky, and the breath of the green ocean is no longer fresh." (Great stuff.)

You get a lot of this in the Kull stories, that detached feeling that the world and other people are not quite real. This alienation turns up in other Howard stories as well, but it was here that he stated it most vividly. I don't know if it's just a blue funk of feeling jaded such as many of us get from time to time, or a sign of a deeper disturbance. But, after all, Bob Howard often talked of killing himself long before his mother died (and he actually went through with it).

For Kull, the barbarian king of ancient Valusia, his moodiness has reached a point where his friends and advisors worry about him. Then a lovely girl of the court whispers to him to seek the wizard, Tuzun Thune for answers. As the king agrees and leaves the palace, the girl smiles a wicked little grin and there is a gleam in her slanted violet eyes; so we know something is not kosher in the court.

Tuzun Thune's palace beside the Lake of Visions features a huge room which has ceiling and walls made up entirely of numerous mirrors. The wizard of the Elder Race entertains the king with some greeting-card philosophy (when asked if he can do wonders, he wiggles his fingers and says the fact his mind can make his body move is a wonder... that sort of Hallmark slogan) and then invites the king to pick a mirror and gaze into it.

Here is where things start getting creepy. Mirrors, even today, have something unsettling about them. (Have you ever glanced at a mirror you didn't know was there and been startled by your own reflection?) Back in Kull's era of one hundred thousand years ago, no one had a hint how mirrors worked and Kull begins to wonder if they are actually windows to other worlds. He suspects he is looking at another version of himself on the other side, summoned to appear when he looks into the glass. Or is it maybe the other way around?

As the days go by, Kull spends all his time gazing somberly into the mirrors, neglecting the affairs of his kingdom, seeing strange visions of the future and glimpses of distant lands. More and more, he starts longing to pass through the surface of the mirrors and explore the strange reverse looking-glass country. And then he notices the man in the mirror is smiling at him...

This isn't the only time Kull gets hints of something beyond mundane everyday reality. In the story "Kings of the Night" he is summoned thousands of years forward to fight a battle alongside the Pictish chieftain Bran Mak Morn. Although he wakes up back in his own chamber and laughs at the wild dream he just had, the laugh is choked off as he feels the sting of his wounds and notices the damage to his armor. Maybe it was this experience that led Kull to start wondering "what is real anyway?" This is the sort of metaphysical problems that Conan would shrug off without being affected, grab a goatskin of wine and a tavern wench and forget about in a few minutes. If Conan the Cimmerian was how Bob Howard liked to see himself, I suspect King Kull was lot more like how he actually was.


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