The Conan Chronology

by J. R. Karlsson

  'Therefore, Ramwas, you must become an agent of mine.' He lifted a hand against the man's alarm. 'Fear not. You will not have to deal with magic - much. It is only that, in this time of crisis, I require men who are competent to meet emergencies as they arise. I have none such in Luxur whom I think is advisable to make privy to this affair. But I may well need one - the more so when the Taian revolt is perhaps linked to Conan's destiny that we must abort. You have been there often, you know the city and people, you have authority. A word from me to the Grand General will get you posted to Luxur on a 'special mission'. You will organise a corps of men to keep watch on every suspicious place there.'

  'But - but my lord,' stammered Ramwas, 'it is hundreds of miles upriver. Killing horses along the way, I could hardly arrive before that pirate ship reaches our coasts. And then, the fastest carrier pigeons could never roost aboard the sacred wingboat. Of it you may not have heard; but it will bear you thither in a night and a day and a night. With you will go a homunculus that can relay your words to me, and mine to you, across the leagues between at the speed of thought.'

  Ramwas, who had hunted lions and men, could not repress a shudder.

  Tothapis saw and told him soothingly: 'You will have time to set your own concerns here in order if you are diligent. You will also have time to prepare yourself in Luxur. First, of course, you and I must speak further, more than once. And ... never forget, Ramwas, the hour of trouble is the hour of the bold. They come to power, and the ages afterward revere their names. Would you not like that, Ramwas?'

  Nehekba curled serpentine in her chair and smiled to herself.

  III

  The Woman Avenger

  'For me,' Bêlit said, 'happiness died when a black sail hove above the sea-rim.'

  She stood beside Conan on the upper deck, at the prow, next to the figurehead. Its gilt flashed brilliant under a cloudless heaven. Sunlight glittered off waves where they rushed blue, green, white-maned. A stiff and bracing breeze filled the sail and sent Tigress northward at a pace that had foam hissing around her cutwater. The galley plunged like a living beast; cordage sang; land had dropped from sight, but gulls yet trailed her, purity and grace on the wind. Below, crewmen laughed and jested in their native tongue as they went about their duties.

  Yet the soul of Bêlit was afar, in a terrible place. She stared from the storm-wrack of her unbound hair, out across leagues and years. When Conan laid an arm around her, she did not flow to him as erstwhile. Her monotone went on:

  'Belike I should start at the beginning, however much pain is in memory raised from its grave. My father was Hoiakim, a man of Dan-marcah on the northern coast of Shem, near the Argossean border. The city is not large, but she is tributary to none. The forests of her hinterland give timber for many ships that fare widely in trade; foreigners make lively her taverns and crooked streets; serenity dwells in the temples of her gods.

  'Hoiakim wed Shaaphi and brought her south. A treaty had lately been concluded with the Suba tribe on the Black Coast, for a trading post among them. It was a rare opportunity for a young man. The Suba were fishers, farmers, and hunters in the jungle. They also dealt with peoples inland. Thus they had abundant goods - hides, gems, gold dust, hardwoods, curious animals and birds. In return they wanted iron tools and weapons, fabrics,

  spices, medicines, and the like. My father became the factor.

  'Soon he was mighty among them. Not only was he strong of arm, tireless in the chase, a peerless archer, but he was wise and just. The natives came to him for counsel about most things and for judging of their disputes. In bad times - hurricane, flood, murrain, drought, war - he took over leadership in all but name. The chief did not resent this, for he, like the rest, thought that great magic lived in Bangulu. So they called my father, Bangulu, the High One. Nor did the witch doctor mind that my mother Shaaphi went among the folk as an angel, healing, midwifing, consoling, teaching women and children arts - gardening, weaving, preserving, cleanliness, music - that bettered their lives.

  'There Jehanan was born and, two years later, I. There we grew up, friends of the Suba, rangers of woods and streams and sea, learning their wild skills and alien lore. At the same time, we did not become savages. Our parents saw to our education as proper Shemites. They had many scrolls and instruments for us as well as themselves. We accompanied them on their visits home. Besides, ships came to bring new trade goods and carry back what we had gathered. Foreign vessels, bartering or exploring, would put in too, for exchange of information and for merriment. No, we were not isolated. Life was good to us.

  'The bud of my happiness broke into flower when -' Bêlit gripped the rail hard -'when I wedded.

  'That was on the last voyage I made back to Dan-marcah. Jehanan was in no haste to marry; native girls were ever eager to please him. But I - I was a maiden still, and ardent. For my parents' part, they wished grandchildren, and a helper, since the post and its business had grown. In the city they engaged a marriage broker, who presently found a suitable youth. Neither pair of elders needed much persuasion for Aliel and me; we tumbled into love.

  'My bridegroom returned with us. He proved an able assistant, and was soon well liked by the tribe. My happiness bore fruit next year, when a son was born unto us, our own little Kedron.

  'Three months later, the black sail hove above the sea-rim.'

  At first there was joy ashore. Visitors were always welcome. Warriors did hasten to take up spear, bow, knobkerrie, shield, and form a line on the beach. A few times the sight of them had caused a vessel to sheer off, revealing her as a pirate or a slaver.

  Bêlit left Kedron in his cradle and hurried outside to join Aliel. The sight before her, around her, was magnificent. At her back, beyond cultivated fields, the jungle rose intensely green under a blue dazzle of sky. A stream flowed thence, bright through the millet and yams, past rail-fenced paddocks where cattle grazed, to the sea. Beside it, on the edge of the beach, the kraal stood. Grass roofs, weathered golden, showed above palisades which honeysuckle made verdant, snowy, perfumed, bee-murmurous. The trading post lay by itself half a mile off, a long building of rammed earth, whitewashed and thatched, amidst a riot of oleander colours The beach was quartz sand, blinding bright. The brook emptied into a cove which gave safe approach and anchorage. Elsewhere, surf creamed and thundered in the van of sapphire waters. Afresh west wind bore heat away. A flight of parrots went by, noisy rainbows.

  The warriors of Suba were poised tall along the shore. Naked save for grass skirts, plumed headdresses, bangles, beads, their sepia bodies gleamed as if oiled. From the stockade poured lithe women, fleet children, grave elders, the chief in a leopard skin. Chatter and laughter blew across to Bêlit. A drum throbbed in gladness.

  Hoiakim and Shaaphi were already outside. The older man stroked his grey-shot beard and rumbled, 'What do you make of yonder craft, Aliel?'

  His son-in-law squinted into glare. The ship was now hull up and nearing. She was big, her sides high and round, the few oar ports clearly meant for no more than close-in manoeuvrings. From strakes to sail, she was unrelieved sable; but a scarlet pennon fluttered at the masthead. Large objects of some kind were mounted at bow and stern. Light winked off metal as numerous men moved about her decks.

  'Stygian, from the lines and paint,' Aliel decided. 'I wager they have others along, though; Stygians are no great seafarers. What

  venture might they be on, this far from home?'

  Unease touched Bêlit. She had heard too many ugly tales about Stygia. Aliel sensed it, squeezed her hand, smiled at her. She gave him back the gesture, cheered and grateful.

  'Perhaps they seek knowledge,' Shaaphi suggested in her gentle fashion. 'They are said to be a nation of philosophers.'

  Hoiakim patted her shoulder affectionately and forebore to dispute.

  As the ship drew in, Bêlit saw that Alieil's guess had been right. The majority of the crew were swarthy Stygians, but she identified Shemites among them, and men more fair who were probably Argos
seans. But why were they armed and armoured - edged steel, helmets, breast-plates, shields? Surely everybody knew by now that the kraal of the Suba and her father's trading post offered treachery to no guest. The warriors on the strand felt the same doubt and closed ranks. Other people edged back toward the stockade.

  A leadsman called warning. Anchor cables and sail rattled downward. The ship lay at rest in the cove, broadside to.

  A trumpet sounded aboard. Men sprang to the objects on deck. They were great jars of glazed clay, on iron grills above trays where charcoal fires glowed to heat them. Their mouths were tightly fitted into long, flexible tubes of leather. Stygians pointed these shoreward and, careful to stay upwind, drew out the stoppers that closed them.

  From either one billowed forth a murky cloud. Men caught at their throats, staggered, dropped their weapons, slumped to the sand. A faint whiff reached Bêlit and whirled her into a dizziness that passed when the breeze shifted.

  'Ishtar aid us,' Hoiakim cried. 'They must be slavers, with some drug borne on the air to break our defence!' He drew his short-sword 'Aliel, get the women and the child to safety.' He ran from his kindred. 'To me, men of the Suba!' he roared. 'To me, and do battle!'

  The jars emptied, the cloud rapidly dispersed. A gangplank splashed from the bulwark. Down it swarmed the invaders, waded ashore, sprang into formation, and charged. No resistance was left

  on the strand, only men who lay unconscious or weakly stirring, unable to rise. The Stygians and their allies moved toward the kraal.

  Through nightmare, Bêlit saw her father dash about, bellow his war cry, seek to rally whatever fighters had escaped the narcotic. She even heard him yell at the chief, 'Ungedu, get the people back inside, close the gate, for Adonis' sake!'

  Jehanan burst into sight. He had been fishing up-stream, and sped the whole way hither afoot. 'No!' Bêlit shouted to the brother she adored. 'Get away!' He did not hear, he plunged to join Hoiakim.

  The remaining hale men of the Suba began to do likewise.

  Bêlit saw an Argossean bowman stand forth from the ranks of his comrades. With ghastly deliberation, he nocked an arrow, drew string, took aim. Did she catch the twang? She did see the arrow smite, and Hoiakim fall. Briefly, he tugged at the shaft in his breast; then he was still.

  Jehanan howled. Maddened, he dashed straight at the Stygians. They surrounded him. Bêlit saw pike butts lift and crash down.

  Dismayed, most Negro fighting men gave way before the onslaught of a disciplined squadron. It reached the stockade ere the gate could be shut. Leaving a few men to hold that position, trapping those within, the marauders .spread out in pursuit of the majority who were outside and fleeing.

  'Father,' Bêlit sobbed. 'Jehanan.'

  Aliel shook her. 'We must escape,' her husband said between locked teeth. 'That was the last charge he laid on me.'

  A far part of her remembered that they, the Shemites, ought to be immune by treaty to slavers. But what use were treaties? If they were caught, who would make complaint? 'Kedron,' she gasped.

  Shaaphi came from the house, grandchild in arms. Her own tears laved the infant, but she said levelly, 'Yes, let us be off to the jungle and hide, before we are noticed. Many will take the same way. We can join them here ... afterward.'

  In the bosom of Bêlit, love for these three was like soft rain falling into a white-hot cauldron - of hate for the slayers of her father, the captors of her brother, the destroyers of every

  happiness. She darted back inside, snatched a spear off the wall, and came back to the rest.

  They struck off across the fields. A haroo snapped Bêlit's glance rearward. The heart froze in her. Four raiders had seen her and were in chase.

  Shaaphi stopped. Bêlit did also, as if helpless, while Aliel raged at them to be on. Shaaphi raised her grey head. 'I cannot outrun them, at my age,' she said, 'nor should Hoiakim stand alone before Ishtar.' She gave the wailing infant to Bêlit, who took him numbly. 'Go,' she said. From her girdle she unsheathed her knife. 'Fare always well, my darlings.' The blade flashed. Blood spouted, unbelievably red. She knelt down among the grain-stalks and sang her death prayer in a voice that soon died out.

  'I will do that for you, beloved, if I must,' Aliel vowed to his wife. 'Now come!'

  They fled onward. Young, hardy, they could have distanced their mail-burdened pursuers. But no mortal goes faster than a lead ball from a sling. Abruptly there came a shattering sound, and Aliel went down. The back of his skull was no more. The kindly grain rustled to and fro to hide that sight from Bêlit.

  She held Kedron in her left arm. Her right hand gripped the spear. She ran.

  Anguish exploded in her left thigh. A second ball had struck. She stumbled, recovered, tried to go on, and knew she was lamed. With great care, she dropped her weapon, uncovered a milk-heavy breast, brought her son close and gave him that gift for a moment. Then she laid him on the ground, took the spear again, and gave him freedom.

  Thereafter she waited at bay.

  'I killed one of them, and wounded two more,' Bêlit told Conan. 'A mistake. I should have done as my mother did. They overcame me.'

  He held her to him.

  'No need of relating what happened next,' she went on in a while. She had not wept. 'They did leave me alone on the voyage

  kick to Stygia, and let me heal in flesh if not spirit. After all, I was now valuable merchandise. So were Jehanan and such of our friends as they had caught, but I was kept apart and saw little of them. I heard that no few took sick and died in the foul hold where they were chained.'

  Her voice was dry. 'It turned out that this was a one-time venture. A Stygian aristocrat and enterpriser named Ramwas had warned enough about the Suba and our post that he decided a raid would be worthwhile, for plunder as well as slaves. It would acquire special equipment, though, to break our defence'

  Conan frowned. No matter pity for Bêlit, his barbarian practicality had come to the fore. 'Why is that mist of sleep not seen in war?' he asked.

  'It is too costly, in too short a supply,' she answered. 'Certain swamp-dwellers in Zembabwei brew it from a poisonous fruit found nowhere else. The agents of Ramwas could only collect enough for this single task, at a price to make it worthwhile, because it chanced they had wormed out a shameful secret from the chiefs past and threatened to spread it abroad. At that, the preparation of such an amount took months.'

  'How do you know this?'

  'Ramwas told me once, when he was in his cups and boastful,' she sighed. 'He put most of the captives on the auction block, but Jehanan and me he kept for himself. Jehanan was to be a plantation labourer We hugged each other, in a single heartbeat, before we were parted. I - Ramwas had me brought to his harem.

  'First - he did not want inconveniences - he gave me into the hands of a witch, who cast a spell that made me barren. What was done left no mark on my skin, but - Oh, Conan, the pain of that day I can put behind me, but never the pain that I cannot bear your child!'

  Muscles bunched in the Cimmerian's jaws. He wanted to smash something. Instead, he held Bêlit very gently to him, though he shivered.

  She laughed a little, as a she-wolf might yelp. 'He got small joy of me,' she said. 'I almost raked his eyeballs out. He barely escaped, yammering. Since whips leave scars, he - well, he had the juice of

  purple lotus forced between my lips, which paralyses the body for hours. But not often.'

  'And in hope, I think,' Conan whispered. 'You are so lovely.'

  Bêlit shrugged. 'Perhaps. Be that as it may, I began to see that I did wrong to yearn for death. What revenge can the poor dead take? No, I must use my wits, so that Hoiakim, Shaaphi, Aliel, and Kedron may have many slaves to attend them.'

  A flaw of wind made the ship lurch and the sail crack.

  'Ramwas had business in Khemi,' Bêlit said. 'I never pretended aught but hatred for him. I could not bring myself to anything else. I could, though, I could be mild enough about it that he brought me along. For Khemi is a seaport -'


  The new moon sank in a greenish west, the glimmer of the old in her arms. Silence brimmed the street beneath ogive windows through which coolness entered. Their grill-work filled with violet and the even star

  In a chamber of red velvet, Bêlit left the couch where she had been waiting. Nearby stood a glass vase full of lilies. She ripped the blossoms out and cast them on the floor. A blow against the tabletop shattered the bowl of the vase. Jagged neck in her fist, she glided to the door.

  Her other fist smote the panel, again and again. 'Open!' she moaned. 'Open, let me out, send for a physician, I perish!'

  The bolt clicked, the barrier swung wide. Lamplight in the corridor beyond revealed, gigantic, the guardian eunuch. He touched his sword, but his face was suspicions as he asked, 'What do you want, woman?'

  Bêlit grinned wide. 'This,' she said, and drove the broken glass past his jowls, into his throat.

  She twisted her weapon. He reeled back but could not scream, only gurgle, because she kept after him, thrusting and twisting. He sank to his knees, to his belly. His blood spurted across walls and floor.

  'Would you had been Ramwas,' she said when he lay slack. But time was scant. She plucked his Ambulant scimitar from its scabbard and padded off to the stairwell. Lamps flickered in

  brackets along it; shadows moved monstrous. Bêlit hurried downward.

  At the bottom, where a door gave on the world, a second sentinel was posted. He was an entire man, burly, blue-cheeked, in helmet, cuirass, leather kilt, and graves A pike stood in his grasp, a blade was sheathed at his hip. 'Hold!' he exclaimed. The walls of the antechamber flung that word back in echoes.

  Bêlit kept the scimitar behind her. She gave him the smile she used to give Aliel. 'Hold?' she murmured. 'Why, yes, in greatest pleasure, if you wish to be held, soldier. A girl grows weary of the harem.'