After a theological bruising in which I was outnumbered and outgunned by liberals, atheists, and liberal atheists, (see the last three posts), it sure would be helpful to have someone on my side for once.
Someone
like Solomon Kane for example. He is a fascinating character of Robert E.
Howard’s creation—Conan the Barbarian’s more devout stepbrother. Officially, Kane is a fanatical Puritan armed
with a sword and pistol, administering rough justice to natural and
supernatural villains alike. Yet in more
reflective moments he toys with such notions as reincarnation, astral
projection, and spirit possession. His
unlikely comrade-in-arms is the loquacious N’Longa, an African witchdoctor.
In Skulls in the Stars (1929), Solomon Kane
is somewhere in rural 17th century Britain, wandering towards the community
of Torkertown. It is not clear why he is
going there—Kane tends to do a lot of wandering in these tales. He has the choice of taking two roads into
town: a hazardous winding trail through swamp land or the even more treacherous
direct route through the upland moor, where several travelers have lately been
brutally murdered. Nobody lives near the
moor, except for old Ezra the Miser, whose maniac cousin Gideon disappeared
some time ago. Hmmm.
A
youngster from a nearby village warns him to avoid the moor road. When Kane asks him why, the boy describes a
terrible apparition that preys on anyone foolish enough to take this
route. Kane concludes that the
apparition is a curse laid on the countryside by the “Lords of Darkness.” “A strong man is needed to combat Satan and
his might”, Kane tells the boy. “Therefore
I go, who have defied him many a time.”
Readers
know that Kane will indeed encounter the apparition, who is not the Prince of
Darkness, but pretty close. The ensuing
struggle is the most interesting part of the story. As with his werewolf stories, Howard is
creative in laying down some unique rules about the nature of vengeful
spirits. Kane is unable to vanquish the
entity on his own, and is severely wounded in the fight. But the struggle provides an opportunity for
him to receive a communication from the spirit world that is critical in
bringing about justice.
The scene
of Kane’s struggle with the apparition is eerily like the Old Testament account
of Jacob’s wrestling with God in Genesis, (32: 24-26). Kane is most certainly not wrestling with God
but with an evil, vengeful spirit. Yet
in both accounts, the heroes are wounded by the altercation, and also come to
important insights as a result. Howard
may or may not have gotten the idea for this scene from the Genesis story, but
the parallels are interesting and resonant.
As in
most of these stories, justice must be done, and gruesomely. This is Solomon Kane’s special calling. In another reversal of Biblical imagery, the
villain is left fastened to a tree, where his death will vanquish a great
evil. Remarkably, Kane wanders away from
this event with a heart heavy with doubt and perhaps even remorse. When the villagers attempt to reassure him
that he has done the will of God and brought about good, he shakes his head and
says “I know not—I know not.” Moments
like these elevate Solomon Kane’s adventures above mere tales of vengeful fighting and
mayhem.
Skulls in the Stars was originally published in the January
1929 issue of Weird Tales, along with
H.P. Lovecraft’s The Silver Key, August
Derleth’s An Occurrence in an Antique
Shop, and some poetry by Donald Wandrei, among others.
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