Zub Tales

Continuing my Conan reread for Cimmerian September, the second published Conan story is The Scarlet Citadel, which arrived in the January 1933 issue of Weird Tales magazine.

As with The Phoenix on the Sword, Robert E. Howard uses additional fictional text at the opening of each chapter to make the story feel even more far-reaching and impactful, like we’re glimpsing events from a grand history instead of just a singular tale. In this case, the story opens with a ballad about the epic conflict to come.

They trapped the Lion on Shamu’s plain;
They weighted his limbs with an iron chain;
They cried aloud in the trumpet-blast,
They cried, ‘The Lion is caged at last.’
Woe to the cities of river and plain
If ever the Lion stalks again!
—Old Ballad

King Conan is introduced in the midst of a losing battle this time, but the way he defies his attackers makes him a towering presence despite his imminent defeat.

Before the savage blue eyes blazing murderously from beneath the crested, dented helmet, the boldest shrank. Conan’s dark scarred face was darker yet with passion; his black armor was hacked to tatters and splashed with blood; his great sword red to the crosspiece. In this stress all the veneer of civilization had faded; it was a barbarian who faced his conquerors.

It’s important to note that in the best Conan stories, the Cimmerian is tough as nails and a legendary fighter, but is still human and can be taken down. Pop culture has built up the icon of the “unstoppable barbarian”, but the source material says otherwise.

There’s some impressive lyrical writing in this story and it really feels like Howard has a head of steam on this one.

For example, during a key scene Conan utters one of my favorite threats-

“Free my hands and I’ll varnish this floor with your brains!”

And the description of the giant snake Satha’s arrival is particularly inspired-

An icy hand stroked his spine. It was the unmistakable sound of pliant scales slithering softly over stone. Cold sweat beaded his skin, as beyond the ring of dim light he saw a vague and colossal form, awful even in its indistinctness. It reared upright, swaying slightly, and yellow eyes burned icily on him from the shadows. Slowly a huge, hideous, wedge-shaped head took form before his dilated eyes, and from the darkness oozed, in flowing scaly coils, the ultimate horror of reptilian development.

It was a snake that dwarfed all Conan’s previous ideas of snakes. Eighty feet it stretched from its pointed tail to its triangular head, which was bigger than that of a horse. In the dim light its scales glistened coldly, white as hoar-frost. Surely this reptile was one born and grown in darkness, yet its eyes were full of evil and sure sight.

It’s also a moment made all the more famous by legendary illustrator Frank Frazetta in his Conan the Usurper cover painting.

When Conan gets revenge on one of his captors, the description of violence paints its own picture.

With a terrible curse Conan struck as a cobra strikes; the great blade hissed between the bars and Shukeli’s laughter broke in a death-scream. The fat eunuch bent at the middle, as if bowing to his killer, and crumpled like tallow, his pudgy hands clutching vainly at his spilling entrails.

In 15,600 words spread over five chapters, we move from betrayal on the battlefield, to a tense show trial, imprisonment in a horrific dungeon, unlikely escape thanks to strange supernatural forces, a sprawling account of the chaos that grips the kingdom in Conan’s absence, and then the king’s blood-soaked return and routing evil, with an amusing finish as vengeance is served in an unexpected way.

Like almost all of the original Conan prose stories, The Scarlet Citadel clips along at an impressive rate, with only chapter 4 feeling a bit unfocused as it breathlessly blitzes through a timeline of anarchy across Aquilonia.

If you haven’t read the original Conan prose stories, I recommend the Del Rey 3-book set, which has each story unedited and essays that add context around their publication.