Wraparound Cover

 I am considering this graphic for the wraparound cover of my next book. I hope to have it out in the next few weeks.

Solomon Kane Story Excerpt

 Here is a short excerpt from a Solomon Kane story that appears in my latest book, 3 Blades Against Darkness.

Moon Over the Black Forest

The snow made the walk difficult, but Kane trudged forward relentlessly, his long, steady strides eating up the miles. There was no path through the thick primeval forests of pine and spruce, but Kane had an uncanny sense of direction. Soon, the castle came into view. It was perched high up on top of a hill. It was a splendid stone structure consisting of buildings surrounding a tall tower that appeared older than the other buildings. Even from a distance, the castle appeared to give off a dark malevolence. Solomon Kane had felt such a malevolence before.

Soon, Kane began to see fresh tracks of a wolf in the snow, but they were like no wolf tracks he had ever seen. Most animals left four-footed tracks, but these were two-footed tracks as if the wolf walked upright like a man.

It was nearly dark by the time Kane reached the castle door. With his stick, he wrapped on the large oak door spanning three times the width of a man and twice as high. A tall, bald man with a prominent nose and a perpetual grimace finally opened the door. He held aloft a candle tree and regarded Kane with disdain.

“I wish to see Graf Strasser,” Kane said.

The bald man’s face appeared even more disgusted. He spoke in an angry tone and referred to the Englishman as landstreicher. The bald man moved to close the door on Kane, but the Puritan stepped forward and held the door open. The bald man began to berate Kane in German. Kane knew enough German to be insulted. Just then, Kane heard another man’s voice.

“Gustav! Gustav! Was ist los?”

The bald man stepped aside subserviently, and Kane pushed open the door to see that another man had approached. He was a middle-aged man, quite handsome and richly dressed. He held a candlestick and regarded Kane curiously.

“Ja, was willst du?” he asked the stranger at his door.

“I wish to see Graf Strasser,” Kane said.

“I am Graf Strasser,” the man said with haughtiness and curiosity. He exuded regal sophistication and superiority.

“I am Solomon Kane, and I was hoping you might take pity on a traveler who has not eaten nor rested all day.”

“Landstreicher!” Gustav said again in an even angrier tone. “Geh jetzt! Leave now!”

“Nonsense, Gustav,” Graff Strasser said to the man calmly. “This man is not a tramp. He is an Englishman.” Then, addressing Kane, he said smiling, “Come in, sir, come in. Come in out of the cold and warm yourself.”

Kane entered the great hall. It had a high ceiling illuminated solely by the candle tree held by Gustav and Graff Strasser’s candlestick. A table stood by the door.

“Feel free to take off your hat and cloak and set them on the table,” Strasser said, and when Kane had done so, Strasser added. “You can leave your weapons there as well. You will not need them.”

Kane placed his pistol, dirk, and sword belt on the table.

“Now, Herr Kane, if you would join me, dinner will be served shortly,” Strasser said graciously. He turned to his servant and said, “Gustav, please set another place for dinner. Herr Kane and I will wait in the library. Please, lead the way.”

Gustav gave the Englishman another disdainful look and led the two men to the library. Once there, Strasser had Gustav leave the candle tree, and he gave his servant the candlestick to use.

“Gustav, please bring some wine for my guest and me,” Strasser said. “It will help take the chill out of his bones and warm his blood.”

Gustav gave a bow and left the room.

“You do not object to drinking wine, I hope,” Strasser said. “I take it from your garments that you are a Puritan.”

“Puritans do not object to drinking. Only drinking to excess.”

“Excellent.”

Kane looked around the room. There were many shelves laden with books. Kane had seldom seen such a handsome collection. Fine furniture was scattered in the library. There was a wooden cabinet and chest with wonderful, intricate carvings. There was a set of armchairs with square legs, and one armchair upholstered with velvet. In the middle of the room was a table decorated with carvings and inlay. They all displayed excellent craftsmanship.

“Tell me, Herr Kane, from where in England do you hail?” Graf Strasser asked in a friendly tone.

“Devon.”

The man nodded and repeated the name. “I have visited England. I have been to London. It is a great city.”

Gustav came in and served the wine. Kane and his host drank. The Puritan mentioned its exceptional quality.

“Thank you,” Strasser said. “My family has been here for hundreds of years. This castle goes back centuries.”

“I saw a tower that stands above everything else. It looks quite formidable.”

The German smiled. “That tower was built first. It was constructed by one of my illustrious ancestors. It was called the Wolfssturm Tower, built in the thirteenth century, about the time of disputed succession. Over the years, this castle was built around the tower. It is now Wolfssturm Castle.”

“Is there some significance to that name?” Kane asked. “Were there wolves in the area?”

“At one time, the Black Forest was teeming with wolves, mein Freund.”

“But no longer?”

“Over the years, my family has hunted them almost to extinction.”

“There must be plenty of folklore about wolves in the forest,” Kane said.

Strasser regarded the Englishman closely, then nodded.

“I can tell you a wolf story,” Strasser said.

“Is it a folktale?”

“It is a true tale, let me assure you,” the German said. “Once, while out hunting in the woods, my grandfather killed a wolf with a crossbow. The creature was extraordinary.”

“How so?”

“Because it took three bolts to kill the beast, and when it was dead, people came from all around just to see it, for no one had ever seen such a wolf. It measured seven feet long from the tip of its snout to the end of its tail.”

That is extraordinary, Kane mused.

“As a matter of fact… here, let me show you something,” Graf Strasser said. Putting down his drink and picking up the candle tree, he led Kane over to the far wall of the room. There on the wall was a display of weapons. Some were very old. There was a battle axe, a broadsword, and a mace. There were knives, daggers, and rapiers. In the center of the display was an old crossbow.

“That is the very weapon my grandfather used to kill the wolf,” Strasser said, beaming with pride.

“A formidable weapon,” said Kane. “A handsome display.”

Just then, Gustav entered the room and announced dinner.

They entered the dining room, which was in keeping with the opulence of the castle. There was a long cherry wood dining table and matching chairs. Fine China, silver goblets, and silverware were set for three. Two silver candelabras lit the room. Nearby, a fire was ablaze in a fireplace with an ornately carved mantel. From another door, a woman entered the room.  

Solomon Kane stopped and stood as if struck. He could help but stare at her. He did not believe he had ever seen a woman of such loveliness. She was young, perhaps two and twenty, at least a dozen years younger than Stasser. She had golden hair and light blue eyes. Her gown was lovely and accentuated a fine figure. She wore a silver cross hung on a silver chain around her neck. She was the epitome of beauty and elegance and moved with grace, but something about her facial expression raised his concern. Was it a sadness he saw written across her lovely features? Surely, those lips, so red and full, were meant to smile, but she held her mouth tight as if she did not feel worthy to smile. Perhaps she was troubled about something, Kane thought, but no woman this young and so lovely should be so heavily burdened by worry.

All of Stephen Gaspar's books are available on Amazon!

Kull Story Excerpt

 Here is a short excerpt from a Kull of Atlantis story that appears in my latest book, 3 Blades Against Darkness.

Daggers At My Back

Kull sat upon the throne of Valusia, his strong chin resting upon his mighty fist. His grey eyes stared off, focusing on nothing in his line of sight. He was deep in thought as he considered the possible futures that loomed over the nation. He felt pressure to make the right decisions as his subjects’ lives depended on what he did next.

It did not seem long since Kull took the crown from Borna. He had killed Borna to gain the throne, but did that mean he had the wisdom and strength to rule? Borna was a cruel king. Someone had to end his tyrannical reign, and if not Kull, then who? But it was Kull who ended Borna’s cruelty. The people cheered, but not for long. Kull brought peace to Valusia, but peace has a way of making men restless, and they begin to think thoughts. Thoughts turn into plots. Plots turn into action.

Kamelia saw Valusia’s peaceful existence as the right time to stir up war. They believed peace would make men complacent and wish to avoid war, so they made a pact with neighboring Verulia, and now they are beating the war drums. Their objective: to cut out great swaths of Valusia’s southern border for themselves, thereby increasing their lands while Valusia gets whittled away. If that were to happen, it would not be long before Farsun and Zarfhaanah decided they also wanted a piece. Before long, Valusia would be a shadow of its former self, losing its power and greatness. Kull was not about to let that happen.

Kull looked about the throne room. There were councilors, advisors, and diplomats. There were generals, barons, and tacticians. There were Royal guards and servant girls. Which of them were spies and traitors? Kull wondered. Which of them is loyal to Valusia and him?

Chief Councilor Tu entered the throne room and approached Kull. Tu was a mature, portly man with thinning hair. He had a very common face and did not look like a man who held such a lofty position. He bowed before the king.

“Has our envoy returned yet from Verulia, good councilor?” Kull asked.

“There has been no word of the envoy, Your Majesty.”

Kull shook his head. “He should have returned by now.”

“A three-man delegation under the flag of truce arrived from Kamelia,” Your Majesty.

“A Kamelian delegation has come, but not our envoy. The envoy was sent to learn the Kamelians' intention and convey our desire for peace.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Send in the Kamelian delegation,” ordered the king.

“They have returned to Kamelia, Your Majesty, as they were ordered to do.”

Kull shook his head, confused. “Why did they come? Did they deliver a message from King Val?”

“No message, Your Majesty, but they did deliver a gift from King Val.”

“Let us see it.”

Tu turned toward the door and motioned to two men. One was holding a chest and the other a small table. They approached the throne. One man put down the table and the other set the chest upon it. The chest was made of bronze and was handsomely decorated with intricate carvings.

King Kull looked at the chest. He motioned for Tu to open it.

The councilor approached the box, undid a clasp, and opened the lid. Kull heard a slight gasp from Tu.

“What is it, councilor?” Kull asked.

“It is the head of your envoy, Your Majesty.”

Kull stood and stepped toward the chest, then looked inside. He motioned to Tu to have it removed. The two men removed the chest and table.

“Call for a council meeting immediately,” Kull instructed Tu.

The council room was close to the throne room. There were seventeen councilors and the king. By this time, all the councilors knew the fate of the envoy sent to Kamelia.

“I am here to get a unanimous vote for war against Kamelia,” Kull said. Murmurs broke out from most of the councillors, except for those who foresaw the king’s view.  

“Are we certain that is the best course of action?” a senior councillor, Kaanuub of Blaal asked. “I have my hand on the pulse of the nation, Your Majesty, and I know the people are against war.”

“They would not fight to save the nation, their home?” Kull asked with incredulity.

“We do not know if that is the case,” Kaanuub said. “I recommend to you and this council that we must never abandon the road to peace.”

The majority of the council was swayed by Kaanuub, and the king’s proposal was defeated. The council suggested that another envoy be sent to Kamelia.

Kull was openly frustrated with the resistance he met, but before he stalked out of the room, he addressed the council.

“I don’t know where you will find a volunteer to act as an envoy to Kamelia, but I suggest that if you cannot find such a person, that one of you who voted against me, volunteer to take up the mission yourself!”

Later, in his private chamber, King Kull spoke with Tu, who was one of the few councillors who sided with the king.

“What happened in the council chamber, Tu?” Kull raged. “How did that happen?”

“My apologies, my Lord. I must take some of the blame. I should have spoken with the councillors individually first.”

“This is not good, my friend,” Kull said, not wishing to take all his frustration out on Tu. “I need a unanimous council before I can declare war.”   

“It was Kaanuub, my Lord. I do not know what he is up to. What will you do now, my Lord?”

“Weeks ago, I ordered our arms maker to go into full production,” Kull said. “Recruitment has been stepped up. In a week or two, we will be prepared to march. ”

Tu looked amazed and offended. “You never said a word about this to me. Did you not trust me?”

Kull approached the man and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I am telling you now, my friend. You are the only one in the palace who knows. I have sent Brule, the Spearslayer, to scout out ahead and try to infiltrate the enemy's camp and learn what he may.”

“I was wondering why I had not seen the Pict in the palace for the last few weeks,” Tu said.

“We must find a way around the council,” Kull said.

“Not so much around the council, Lord King,” Tu said slyly. “We must find a way around Kaanuub of Blaal.”

“Why is Kaanuub opposing me?”

“It is difficult to say, my king.”

Days later, another council meeting was called.

Kaanuub requested the position to speak first. He gave a long oration on peace and the historical relationship between Valusia and Kamelia.

“His Majesty will be pleased to know that another envoy has been chosen for a peace mission to Kamelia,” Kaanuub said.

“That may not be necessary, councilor,” said Kull.

“And why is that, Your Majesty?”

“I plan on appealing to the council, then we will take another vote on my plan to march on Kamelia.”

“I do not see how Your Majesty can expect a different outcome from the last vote, but you are, of course, free to exercise that right,” Kaanuub of Blaal said condescendingly.

Kull turned to the men at the council table. “Who here supports me in waging war on Kamelia? Raise your hand.”

Every councilor but Kaanuub raised their hand.

Kaanuub looked about the room, astonished, then smiled knowingly.

“It would appear I am outvoted,” Kaanuub said.

“It would appear so,” Kull said. Turning to the council, he said, “Gentlemen, thank you for this mandate. We will prepare for war immediately.”

Council members left the chamber, leaving the king, Tu, and Kaanuub. The King and Kaanuub exchanged a long, unspoken look.

Finally, Kaanuub asked Kull, “How did you get them to come around to your way of thinking?” The king said nothing. Kaanuub turned to Tu, and said, “Or was all this your doing?”

Kaanuub walked away haughtily, realizing he had been outmaneuvered by a pair he believed inferior to his intellect and guile. 

3 Blades Against Darkness also comes in a non-graphic edition entitled Three Blades Against Darkness.

Look for them and all of Stephen Gaspar's books on Amazon!

Conan Story Excerpt

 Here is a short excerpt from a Conan the Barbarian story that appears in my latest book, 3 Blades Against Darkness.

The Scroll of Anoch

THE dour-looking landlord kept a grim watch over his tavern. Here, in this particular section of the City of Thieves, could be found the most wretched collection of thieves and cutthroats in all of Zamora, and maybe even the world. What caused the landlord the most distress, the reason he always appeared on edge, was that he never knew when a fight might break out. Even though he had a strict rule that prohibited weapons, these types of patrons did not need steel to kill one another or to break his heavy wooden tables and chairs. More than once, a customer had been beaten to death with a broken table leg. That is why he kept a close eye on everyone in the place and was ready to stop a fight before it began. Under the bar, he kept his peacekeeper just in case of trouble. The peacekeeper was a long-handle, heavy wooden mallet.

The ones that concerned him tonight were three loud men at a table in the middle of the place. They were an unlikely trio. One was a handsome, well-bred Corinthian who took pride in his appearance; another was a tall, dark Kothian with a hawk nose and ringleted beard, and the third was a tough-looking Nemedian.

The three came in and took over a table from two other patrons. They were boisterous and overbearing and did not shy away from intimidating and mocking anyone in the place.

As much as the landlord was concerned about these three, he was more concerned about a young barbarian who had come in and sat by himself in a dark corner of the tavern. The barbarian had ordered nothing, though he gazed about the room like a hungry wolf.

“Here’s to the end of Yara!” the Nemedian said, holding up his leather drinking jack.

His two companions joined in the toast, banging their jacks together and spilling their drinks onto the table.

“Good riddance to that black priest,” said the Kothian.

“I hear he was a wizard,” said the handsome Corinthian.     

“Wizard or priest, he was evil and good riddance, I say,” said the Nemedian.

“What became of his tower?” said the bearded Kothian.

“It vanished overnight,” the Corinthian said, gesturing with his hands.

“That was strange,” the Nemedian said, soberly.

“They say Yara had a fabulous fortune of jewels in that tower,” said the Kothian, his eyes gleaming greedily.

“Not to mention the Heart of the Elephant,” added the Corinthian.

“What do you think happened to all that wealth?” asked the Kothian.

The Corinthian made his hand gesture again. “Disappeared.”

“The rumor is that Taurus the Prince of Thieves was there that night,” the Kothian said. “He was a countryman of yours, wasn’t he?”

The Nemedian nodded slowly. “I did not know him, but I knew of him. Only the Prince of Thieves would dare such a feat. Now, he has disappeared as well.”

“I have heard it mentioned that a northern barbarian was arrested by the authorities for being involved in the tower, somehow,” said the Corinthian.

“Bah!” said the Nemedian with derision, and spat out a few profanities. “Probably some brainless lout from the north lying through his teeth to make himself more important than he is! Hang the braggart! He was trying to get by on Tauras’s reputation. No barbarian could ever hold a candle to Taurus or any Nemedian. I wish that barbarian were here now. I’d prove him a liar and a coward!”

As if by some sorcery, a young barbarian stood silently beside their table. All three were taken by surprise. It was as if there was no one there, then suddenly the younger man was standing amidst them. He was lean-waisted and broad-shouldered. His muscled body was bronzed by the sun. He was naked save for a breechcloth belted at his waist and his high-strapped sandals.

“I can tell you what happened to Yara and his tower,” the man said. He spoke in a low voice. His blue eyes regarded the men at the table carefully as if looking for weaknesses.

“And who the hell are you?” the Nemedian asked.

“My name is Conan and I am from Cimmeria.”

“Are you the man who was arrested by the authorities?” the Corinthian asked.

Conan nodded.

“All right, Cimmerian,” the Kothian said, stroking his beard. “Tell us what happened.”

“I would not object to you buying me a drink first,” Conan said.

The table burst into laughter.

“When I was arrested, they took everything I had, even my sword,” Conan explained. “I have not eaten nor had a decent drink of any kind, not even clean water.”

The Nemedian stood up smiling. “Certainly. I’ll get you a drink, Cimmerian. Here, you can have mine!” The man threw the contents of his drinking-jack into Conan’s face.

The three men laughed again. In a flash, Conan gave the Kothian a strong backhand blow that knocked the man out of his chair. Conan lunged at the Nemedian, and the two locked together in combat. Blows were exchanged, and the Corinthian grabbed Conan from behind. The Kothian was now on his feet and joined in the fray.

The Cimmerian was unusually strong, but was not strong enough to take on these three. Soon, the Kothian and the Corinthian held Conan’s arms, and the Nemedian was pummelling him with terrific blows.  

Just then, the large landlord stood behind the Nemedian. The landlord brought his wooden peacekeeper down on the head of the Nemedian, who crumpled to the floor.

“Three against one is hardly fair,” the landlord said. “Turn him loose.”

When the two men released Conan, he instantly turned on them, but the landlord used his persuader on the young Cimmerian. Conan dropped to the floor.

“Now you two, pick up your friend and get out,” the landlord said, brandishing his peacekeeper.

They picked up the Nemedian and carried him out.

The landlord looked at the Cimmerian. He bent down, grabbed the unconscious youth by the foot, and dragged him out of the tavern and left him in the street. The landlord’s attention was caught by a man across the street who appeared to be watching the landlord. He was a large, bald man who did not move or say a word. The landlord moved to go back into his tavern. He stopped at the door and looked again at the bald man. Was the bald man watching him, or was he watching the Cimmerian?

3 Blades Against Darkness also comes in a non-graphic edition entitled Three Blades Against Darkness.

Look for them and all of Stephen Gaspar's books on Amazon!

Conan Quotes

 I decided to post some quotes from my latest book, 3 Blades Against Darkness, a collection of action-packed fantasy tales featuring Conan, Solomon Kane, and King Kull as they battle supernatural threats, face ancient wizards, and embark on dangerous quests.

Here are some quotes from everyone's favourite Cimmerian. 

Conan

"The only time a Cimmerian is at peace is when he's at war."

\

"Conan, what do you know of the Gods?"     
"That there are too many of them."

"So, when it comes to greed and breaking the law, there isn't much of a difference between a barbarian and a civilized man, but the civilized man needs a barbarian to get the job done."

"...I do not repay kindness with treachery."

"What is the first thing you will buy? A woman?"
Conan shrugged. "Sword first, a woman second."

"Come and die, you hellhounds!"

"I don't know how I will die, or where. I don't think about it. I don't see any point to it."

"Keep that helmet on your head."
"And you keep your sword sharp."

"What do you want of me?" Conan demanded
"I think you know."
Conan nodded. "Revenge." It was an act and motivation he fully understood.

He had faced wizards before, and he knew enough not to underestimate them.

In a flash, the Cimmerian gave the Kothian a backhand blow that knocked the man out of his chair.

(Regarding the gods)
"I don't interfere in their business, and I trust they don't interfere in mine."

"The only time a barbarian is at peace is when he's at war."
"Is that an old Cimmerian expression?"
"No. I heard a crooked senator from Aquinlonia say that once." 

Here are a few quotes from my Kull stories.

Kull

"On your knees, you traitorous dogs!"

"Sometimes, I find this crown... heavy," the king said with tired sadness.
"That is because the entire nation rests upon it," said Brule.

Kull turned to his men. "If any of you are willing to give their lives for Valusia, if any of you would choose a brave death over a life of ignominy, or believe that fighting beside your king is the height of nobility and honor - then follow me!"

Finally, here are a few quotes from my Solomon Kane stories.

Solomon Kane

If evil wanted a confrontation, it would always find Solomon Kane ready.

 

Solomon Kane was not a vain man, but he would not tolerate anyone challenging his bravery.

 

"At your convenience, sir!" Kane said, stolidly throwing down the glove.

 

"I am sure these men are not so dishonorable as to lay a snare for me, wounded as I am."

 

"The Good Lord gave us each two legs. We walk."

 

So much evil, Kane thought. The world seemed full of evil.

 

Solomon Kane stood looking like the angel of death, all in black, his weapons drawn and his eyes almost ablaze.

All of Stephen Gaspar's Books Are Available on Amazon!

Robert E. Howard's Wanderlust Heroes

 It is interesting that Robert E. Howard, who spent most of his life in Cross Plains, Texas, and who indeed seldom left the state, would write about characters who left their home to find fantastic adventures in foreign lands.

Kirby O’Donnell would end up in Afghanistan, as did Francis X. Gordon after he travelled the world. Sailor Steve Costigan roamed the Asiatic Seas, and Cormac Fitzgeoffrey fought in the Crusades.

Conan of Cimmeria left his native land at a young age, and for all we know, never returned. Kull acted in defiance of tribal law and was exiled from Atlantis, never to return. Solomon Kane had few tales in his native England, but most of his adventures took place in Africa. Kane sometimes referred to himself as a landless wanderer. Whereas Conan or Kull never went home again, Kane's homecoming was commemorated in a poem.

Of these three popular Howard characters, Conan stands out for several reasons; he travelled the most, experiencing the many lands and cultures. Wherever Conan was, he often adopted native dress, language, and weapons, sometimes forsaking his broadsword for a tulwar, scimitar, or cutlass. In some stories, he spoke disdainfully of civilized culture, sometimes criticizing it next to his own. It is perplexing that if Conan felt that way about civilized culture, he did not return to Cimmeria. He must have realized that other cultures possessed more loot and that it was easier to pillage them. 

With Solomon Kane, the Puritan was always dressed in black and was never without his rapier; he was known to use a brace of pistols if they were handy. His only ‘native’ weapon was the Staff of Solomon, given to him by the ancient African shaman, N’longa. Kane only used the staff in Africa. Wherever Kane went, he was always himself, for his life was rooted in God.

As king of Valusia, Kull often struggled to adapt to their ways and laws, even though he had lived there for years. In a famous scene in By This Axe I Rule, Kull smashes a stone tablet of ancient Valusian laws and declares that as king, he will set the laws. This echoes back to the harsh tribal law that Kull opposed on Atlantis. He believed burning a woman at the stake because of whom she married was harsh and unjust. This idea of justice was something Kull carried with him regardless of where he lived.

Both Kirby O’Donnell and Francis X. Gordon could blend into Eastern cultures. O’Donnell often used the disguise of a Kurdish merchant. These two remind me a bit of Lawrence of Arabia. 

It takes a special kind of man to leave his homeland and journey to some far-off place. Definitely, many of Howard’s characters had wanderlust. They were risk-takers and explorers, the kind of men who needed new experiences and had the desire to learn just what they were made of, something like an existential quest. These were not the type of men to do 9-to-5 jobs and valued family life. These men would live a life alone. I wonder if that type of person would ever truly feel at home anywhere. But that is the price for adventure.

I think down deep, Robert E. Howard would have loved to travel to other countries and seek adventure, but something held him back. Many of us who are tied to our families and our 9-to-5 jobs will forever be grateful for that.

Stephen Gaspar's books are available on Amazon!

Robert E. Howard, Kipling, and the Picts

                                                                                                                                                               

Robert E. Howard wrote a good deal about the Picts. He mentioned them in his tales of Conan, Kull, and, naturally, Bran Mak Morn. The Picts are also mentioned in several short stories where they do not play a large role. He may have been enamoured with them for personal reasons, believing he was connected by blood. Howard’s interest in Picts may also have been spurred on by the poem A Pict Song by Rudyard Kipling. Kipling was a favorite of Howard and probably influenced the El Borak stories. It looks like A Pict Song also influenced Howard’s The Song of a Mad Minstrel, particularly the first two stanzas.

A Pict Song

By Rudyard Kipling

Rome never looks where she treads.   

   Always her heavy hooves fall   

On our stomachs, our hearts or our heads;   

   And Rome never heeds when we bawl.   

Her sentries pass on—that is all,

   And we gather behind them in hordes,   

And plot to reconquer the Wall,

   With only our tongues for our swords.

We are the Little Folk—we!

   Too little to love or to hate.   

Leave us alone and you’ll see

   How we can drag down the State!

We are the worm in the wood!

   We are the rot at the root!   

We are the taint in the blood!

   We are the thorn in the foot!

Mistletoe killing an oak—

   Rats gnawing cables in two—

Moths making holes in a cloak—

   How they must love what they do!   

Yes—and we Little Folk too,

   We are busy as they—

Working our works out of view—

   Watch, and you’ll see it some day!

No indeed! We are not strong,

   But we know Peoples that are.   

Yes, and we’ll guide them along

   To smash and destroy you in War!

We shall be slaves just the same?

   Yes, we have always been slaves,

But you—you will die of the shame,

   And then we shall dance on your graves!

       We are the Little Folk, we, etc.

Rudyard Kipling

The Song of the Mad Minstrel

I am the thorn in the foot, I am the blur in the sight;
I am the worm at the root, I am the thief in the night.
I am the rat in the wall, the leper that leers at the gate;
I am the ghost in the hall, herald of horror and hate.

I am the rust on the corn, I am the smut on the wheat,
Laughing man's labor to scorn, weaving a web for his feet.
I am canker and mildew and blight, danger and death and decay;
The rot of the rain by night, the blast of the sun by day.

I warp and wither with drouth, I work in the swamp's foul yeast;
I bring the black plague from the south and the leprosy in from the east.
I rend from the hemlock boughs wine steeped in the petals of dooms;
Where the fat black serpents drowse I gather the Upas blooms.

I have plumbed the northern ice for a spell like Frozen lead;
In lost grey fields of rice, I have learned from Mongol dead.
Where a bleak black mountainstands I have looted grisly caves;
I have digged in the desert sands to plunder terrible graves.

Never the sun goes forth, never the moon glows red,
But out of the south or the north, I come with the slavering dead.
I come with hideous spells, black chants and ghastly tunes;
I have looted the hideen hells amd plundered the lost black moons.

There was never a king or priest to cheer me by word or look,
There was never a man or beast in the blood-black ways I took.
There were crimson gulfs unplumbed, there were black wings over a sea,
There were pits where mad things drummed, and foaming blasphemy.

There were vast ungodly tombs where slimy monsters dreamed;
There were clouds like blood-drenched plumes where unborn demons screamed.
There were ages dead to Time, and lands lost out of Space;
There were adders in the slime, and a dim unholy Face.

Oh, the heart in my breast turned stone, and the brain froze in my skull--
But I won through, I alone, and poured my chalice full
Of horrors and dooms and spells, black buds and bitter roots--
From the hells beneath the hells, I bring you my deathly fruits.

Poem by Robert E. Howard

Robert E. Howard

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