The Shadow Kingdom

The Shadow Kingdom
Robert E. Howard
First Published in Weird Tales, August 1929

1. A King Comes Riding
The blare of the trumpets grew louder, like a deep golden tide surge,
like the soft booming of the evening tides against the silver beaches of
Valusia. The throng shouted, women flung roses from the roofs as the
rhythmic chiming of silver hosts came clearer and the first of the
mighty array swung into view in the broad white street that curved
round the golden-spired Tower of Splendor.
First came the trumpeters, slim youths, clad in scarlet, riding with a
flourish of long, slender golden trumpets; next the bowmen, tall men
from the mountains; and behind these the heavily armed footmen, their
broad shields clashing in unison, their long spears swaying in perfect
rhythm to their stride. Behind them came the mightiest soldiery in all
the world, the Red Slayers, horsemen, splendidly mounted, armed in
red from helmet to spur. Proudly they sat their steeds, looking neither
to right nor to left, but aware of the shouting for all that. Like bronze
statues they were, and there was never a waver in the forest of spears
that reared above them.
Behind those proud and terrible ranks came the motley files of the
mercenaries, fierce, wild-looking warriors, men of Mu and of Kaa-u
and of the hills of the east and the isles of the west. They bore spears
and heavy swords, and a compact group that marched somewhat apart
were the bowmen of Lemuria. Then came the light foot of the nation,
and more trumpeters brought up the rear.
A brave sight, and a sight which aroused a fierce thrill in the soul of

Kull, king of Valasia. Not on the Topaz Throne at the front of the regal
Tower of Splendor sat Kull, but in the saddle, mounted on a great
stallion, a true warrior king. His mighty arm swung up in reply to the
salutes as the hosts passed. His fierce eyes passed the gorgeous
trumpeters with a casual glance, rested longer on the following soldiery;
they blazed with a ferocious light as the Red Slayers halted in front of
him with a clang of arms and a rearing of steeds, and tendered him the
crown salute. They narrowed slightly as the mercenaries strode by.
They saluted no one, the mercenaries. They walked with shoulders
flung back, eyeing Kull boldly and straightly, albeit with a certain
appreciation; fierce eyes, unblinking; savage eyes, staring from beneath
shaggy manes and heavy brows.
And Kull gave back a like stare. He granted much to brave men, and
there were no braver in all the world, not even among the wild
tribesmen who now disowned him. But Kull was too much the savage
to have any great love for these. There were too many feuds. Many
were age-old enemies of Kull's nation, and though the name of Kull
was now a word accursed among the mountains and valleys of his
people, and though Kull had put them from his mind, yet the old hates,
the ancient passions still lingered. For Kull was no Valusian but an
Atlantean.
The armies swung out of sight around the gemblazing shoulders of the
Tower of Splendor and Kull reined his stallion about and started toward
the palace at an easy gait, discussing the review with the commanders
that rode with him, using not many words, but saying much.
"The army is like a sword," said Kull, "and must not be allowed to
rust." So down the street they rode, and Kull gave no heed to any of the
whispers that reached his hearing from the throngs that still swarmed
the streets.
"That is Kull, see! Valka! But what a king! And what a man! Look at
his arms! His shoulders!"
And an undertone of more sinister whispering:

"Kull! Ha, accursed usurper from the pagan isles." "Aye, shame to
Valusia that a barbarian sits on the Throne of Kings."
Little did Kull heed. Heavy-handed had he seized the decaying throne
of ancient Valusia and with a heavier hand did he hold it, a man against
a nation.
After the council chamber, the social palace where Kull replied to the
formal and laudatory phrases of the lords and ladies, with carefully
hidden grim amusement at such frivolities; then the lords and ladies
took their formal departure and Kull leaned back upon the ermine
throne and contemplated matters of state until an attendant requested
permission from the great king to speak, and announced an emissary
from the Pictish embassy.
Kull brought his mind back from the dim mazes of Valusian statecraft
where it had been wandering, and gazed upon the Pict with little favor.
The man gave back the gaze of the king without flinching. He was a
lean-hipped, massive-chested warrior of