Conan's Philosophical Defeat & the Downfall of the King - America & Texas' Tolkien - The Hour of the Dragon the Lord of the Rings of the USA

This is a great chapter

The Problem of Motivation

Before we get to the third chapter in Robert E. Howard’s greatest masterpiece, the Hour of the Dragon let us first tackle the end of the second chapter, which has a magnificent ending to it.

"Lord king, Mitra grant that I do not dishonor the harness I wear this day!"
"Bring me Tarascus's head and I'll make you a baron!" In the stress of his anguish Conan's veneer of civilization had fallen from him. His eyes flamed, he ground his teeth in fury and blood-lust, as barbaric as any tribesmen in the Cimmerian hills.”

The idea of barbarism being the natural state of the character of Conan is something that Howard made clear in a number of the great short-stories all about his chief character. That said, never has it been clearer than here. It is in this scene that we see what the Cimmerian truly is, and who he is.

Others such as Kubilai Khan, or Emperor Zeno might come to rule civilized nations and become utterly assimilated by them, yet Conan is different. He cannot become aught else than what he is. He will always be a Barbarian from the northern country of Cimmeria. But it is more than that, there’s an element to him that could never truly become part of the host nation he has become the ruler of. This is a total contrast in some ways to Kull the King of Valusia (the predecessor of Conan).

It is also noteworthy that Conan promises that should the other man bring him the head of Tarascus that he’ll make him a Baron. This is a barbaric and heinous offer in a lot of ways.

It could perhaps even be seen as Conan failing on a moral level. The reason this is the case is that at the end of the novel Conan promises to spare Tarascus.

This is the interesting philosophical question we must ask; what is Conan fighting for? I know this might seem like a more Japanese styled query, but it has to be asked. Because much of life falls into will as Ra’s Al Ghul wisely commented in the Batman Begins movie.

Because of this the problem with Conan is that he’s fighting for a crown, and a people who are not his own. His people love him, but they need him to go all out, to be wholly dedicated to them and to also have something to energize him. The interesting thing is that the King may lack the motivating factor to lead them to victory.

The factor in question is that all men have something personal that might motivate them such as a dog, a parent, a child or a lover/spouse. These are all things that we strive towards and are motivated/encouraged by. Conan lacks all of these things, and so his motivation is somewhat half-hearted and weak in nature.

If a man’s motivation is weak, his accomplishments will be small and his victories non-existent. It is for this reason that the Cimmerian loses as much as because of the attack upon him in the dark by Xaltotun.

The important thing to remember when writing is that a character can be wholly dedicated to his cause, without having a scene where he has a conscious moment of realization of sorts as overt as what anime might do. In this case Conan’s devotion is shaken and victory over his previous foes has defeated him, so that he’s philosophically on weaker footing than his foes.

Tarascus and Xaltotun and the rest of them must win. Defeat is not an option, so that in a way they lured him into a trap akin to that of Caesar and Pompeius at Pharsalus.

The Cimmerian needs Zenobia, and the likes of Albiona and his friends. They remind him that he claimed the crown of Aquilonia not simply for himself, because the crown lay in the mire but for those around him, for the Kingdom itself. Aquilonia needed him, and he answered the call but what then?

What use is a crown if there’s no heir to pass it down to?

This is why Augustus is greater than Caesar. Augustus took over Rome and fought like a demon to conquer his foes because he had Agrippa, Maecenas and Livia. You see? He had friends, a wife, a family to defend. He had priorities. While what did Caesar fight for? Rome? A Crown? Himself?

The Duel of the Fates

“THE AQUILONIAN HOST was drawn up, long serried lines of pikemen and horsemen in gleaming steel, when a giant figure in black armor emerged from the royal pavilion, and as he swung up into the saddle of the black stallion held by four squires, a roar that shook the mountains went up from the host. They shook their blades and thundered forth their acclaim of their warrior king- knights in gold-chased armor, pikemen in mail coats and basinets, archers in their leather jerkins, with their longbows in their left hand.
The host on the opposite side of the valley was in motion, trotting down the long gentle slope toward the river; their steel shone through the mists of morning that swirled about their horses' feet.
The Aquilonian host moved leisurely to meet them. The measured tramp of the armored horses made the ground tremble. Banners flung out long silken folds in the morning wind; lances swayed like a bristling forest, dipped and sank, their pennons fluttering about them.
Ten men-at-arms, grim, taciturn veterans who could hold their tongues, guarded the royal pavilion. One squire stood in the tent, peering out through a slit in the doorway. But for the handful in the secret, no one else in the vast host knew that it was not Conan who rode on the great stallion at the head of the army.
The Aquilonian host had assumed the customary formation: the strongest part was the center, composed entirely of heavily armed knights; the wings were made up of smaller bodies of horsemen, mounted men-at-arms, mostly, supported by pikemen and archers. The latter were Bossonians from the western marches, strongly built men of medium stature, in leathern jackets and iron head-pieces.
The Nemedian army came on in similar formation and the two hosts moved toward the river, the wings, in advance of the centers. In the center of the Aquilonian host the great lion banner streamed its billowing black folds over the steel-clad figure on the black stallion.
But on his dais in the royal pavilion Conan groaned in anguish of spirit, and cursed with strange heathen oaths.”

This is the passage in which Howard presents what’s been happening to the Aquilonians and Nemedians.

There’s one problem with it; it is very obviously a trap. The Nemedians are moving in such a way that Conan would never have allowed himself to be drawn into following after. The reason is very simple if psychological; Conan is someone who doesn’t follow the lead of others but instead likes to lead himself.

He is pro-active rather than being reactive. Because of this he has a tendency to prefer to dictate the direction of clashes and of his life. To do so allows him the ability to control the flow of things and to exert his will upon each and every event in his life. Conan’s hope is thus to carve a path for himself in which he is neither reactionary, nor follower but instead dictator or rather composer of his own life’s course.

This has made him one of the most effective warriors and generals around (contrary to the ‘canon’ that one might find in the terrible Conan the Liberator novel), and it is why he is also an incredibly lonely man at this point. Conan has neither true companions nor somewhere where he might truly rest his head.

But this has already been discussed.

"The hosts move together," quoth the squire, watching from the door. "Hear the trumpets peal! Ha! The rising sun strikes fire from lance-heads and helmets until I am dazzled. It turns the river crimson-- aye, it will be truly crimson before this day is done!
"The foe have reached the river. Now arrows fly between the hosts like stinging clouds that hide the sun. Ha! Well loosed, bowman! The Bossonians have the better of it! Hark to them shout!"
Faintly in the ears of the king, above the din of trumpets and clanging steel, came the deep fierce shout of the Bossonians as they drew and loosed in perfect unison.
"Their archers seek to hold ours in play while their knights ride into the river," said the squire. "The banks are not steep; they slope to the water's edge. The knights come on, they crash through the willows. By Mitra, the clothyard shafts find every crevice of their harness! Horses and men go down, struggling and thrashing in the water. It is not deep, nor is the current swift, but men are drowning there, dragged under by their armor, and trampled by the frantic horses. Now the knights of Aquilonia advance. They ride into the water and engage the knights of Nemedia. The water swirls about their horses' bellies and the clang of sword against sword is deafening."
"Crom!" burst in agony from Conan's lip. Life was coursing sluggishly back into his veins, but still he could not lift his mighty frame from the dais.
"The wings close in," said the squire. "Pikemen and swordsmen fight hand to hand in the stream, and behind them the bowmen ply their shafts.
"By Mitra, the Nemedian arbalesters are sorely harried, and the Bossonians arch their arrows to drop amid the rear ranks. Their center gains not a foot, and their wings are pushed back up from the stream again."
"Crom, Ymir, and Mitra!" raged Conan. "Gods and devils, could I but reach the fighting, if but to die at the first blow!"

Obviously a trap, and Conan can sense it. This is the reason for which he’s speaking of wanting to die at the first blow. The reason being that he knows what’s to come and knows that Aquilonia doesn’t have a chance as it has fallen into a terrible trap.

It is for this reason that he wishes for death.

In a lot of ways, Conan is reflective of another era. This much is obvious to anyone who reads, but he’s really more like the Samurai of old, the ancient Vikings and the Knights of the Medieval-period. Better death than disgrace and shame, is his way of thinking. This is how it should be in some ways for such a hero. This is what it takes to defeat a Dark Lord.

And this is ultimately what many modern Fantasy characters lack; the nerve to prefer to cast away their lives than to be defeated. The thing about Conan is that he feels like a ‘Great Man of History’ and that he’s nothing like say Harry Potter, or Percy Jackson or whoever is popular right now. He’s a figure who stands tall in a pre-historical era akin to Tolkien’s Middle-Earth, or the age of myth such as that of Biblical times, something of a barbarous David of sorts with more muscles and a very different attitude.

In a lot of ways I think I’d like to see a King Arthur adaptation that borrows from Conan and that follows the idea that he’s a barbarian, rather than a civilized fellow. Someone who believes in strength and might all while embodying on an instinctive level chivalry.

Now if you’re curious as to who is describing what is happening to Conan it would be the King’s squire.

"Their wings are in confusion!" he cried. "Their knights reel back from the sword-play. But what is this? Your banner is in motion-the center sweeps into the stream! By Mitra, Valannus is leading the host across the river!"
"Fool!" groaned Conan. "It may be a trick. He should hold his position; by dawn Prospero will be here with the Poitanian levies."
"The knights ride into a hail of arrows!" cried the squire. "But they do not falter! They sweep on-they have crossed! They charge up the slope! Pallantides has hurled the wings across the river to their support! It is all he can do. The lion banner dips and staggers above the melee.
"The knights of Nemedia make a stand. They are broken! They fall back! Their left wing is in full flight, and our pikemen cut them down as they run! I see Valannus, riding and smiting like a madman. He is carried beyond himself by the fighting-lust. Men no longer look to Pallantides. They follow Valannus, deeming him Conan, as he rides with closed vizor.
"But look! There is method in his madness! He swings wide of the Nemedian front, with five thousand knights, the pick of the army. The main host of the Nemedians is in confusion-and look! Their flank is protected by the cliffs, but there is a defile left unguarded! It is like a great cleft in the wall that opens again behind the Nemedian lines. By Mitra, Valannus sees and seizes the opportunity! He has driven their wing before him, and he leads his knights toward that defile. They swing wide of the main battle; they cut through a line of spearmen, they charge into the defile!"
"An ambush!" cried Conan, striving to struggle upright.
"No!" shouted the squire exultantly. "The whole Nemedian host is in full sight! They have forgotten the defile! They never expected to be pushed back that far. Oh, fool, fool, Tarascus, to make such a blunder! Ah, I see lances and pennons pouring from the farther mouth of the defile, beyond the Nemedian lines. They will smite those ranks from the rear and crumple them. Mitra, what is this?"

Here we have Conan realizing what it is that has happened even as the battle seems to turn well, with the enemy effecting a simple stratagem that anyone could see through.

The trouble here is that what it shows is that you can dress a man up as Conan, you can even imitate him as best you want, you’ll never be him. The same applies to all the ‘Conan lite’ characters out there so that I’m given to wondering; did Howard predict on some level what was to come?

There were already within his lifetime several pretender characters, many of which weren’t so bad, and yet there was to be more than followed. The thing was that the character was to be imitated, chopped up and imitated again and yet none of the successor characters or pastiche stories ever managed to quite equal Howard’s original hero or style or his depiction of him.

It is very interesting that on some level even if Robert didn’t foresee what was to come, something in him sensed what was to come.

And what’s more is that it is now that he switches from what was later to be termed ‘Sword & Sorcery’ as a mode to ‘Epic Fantasy.’

What Howard shows next is the sort of difference between an ordinary boy and a Great Man. The Squire gives himself over to panic as the armies of Aquilonia fall into the trap, are destroyed and Aquilonia is slain.

"The cliffs reel!" shrieked the squire. "Ah, gods, what is this? The river foams out of its channel, and the peaks are crumbling! The ground shakes and horses and riders in armor are overthrown! The cliffs! The cliffs are falling!"
With his words there came a grinding rumble and a thunderous concussion, and the ground trembled. Over the roar of the battle sounded screams of mad terror.
"The cliffs have crumbled!" cried the livid squire. "They have thundered down into the defile and crushed every living creature in it! I saw the lion banner wave an instant amid the dust and falling stones, and then it vanished! Ha, the Nemedians shout with triumph! Well may they shout, for the fall of the cliffs has wiped out five thousand of our bravest knights-hark!"
To Conan's ears came a vast torrent of sound, rising and rising in frenzy: "The king is dead! The king is dead! Flee! Flee! The king is dead!"
"Liars!" panted Conan. "Dogs! Knaves! Cowards! Oh, Crom, if I could but stand-but crawl to the river with my sword in my teeth! How, boy, do they flee?"
"Aye!" sobbed the squire. "They spur for the river; they are broken, hurled on like spume before a storm. I see Pallantides striving to stem the torrent-he is down, and the horses trample him! They rush into the river, knights, bowmen, pikemen, all mixed and mingled in one mad torrent of destruction. The Nemedians are on their heels, cutting them down like corn."
"But they will make a stand on this side of the river!" cried the king. With an effort that brought the sweat dripping from his temples, he heaved himself up on his elbows.
"Nay!" cried the squire. "They cannot! They are broken! Routed! Oh gods, that I should live to see this day!"

The choice to have it all delivered to we readers in dialogue form is a fascinating difference from how most authors might do it. It is a choice that could only be done by an author of that era for some reason or so it seems (hopefully it’ll come back). And yet it has shades of the Tain where we learn chunks of the story and details behind the story in dialogue form. So that Howard is celebrating his Irish heritage in a manner of speaking if in literary form.

“Then he remembered his duty and shouted to the men-at-arms who stood stolidly watching the flight of their comrades. "Get a horse, swiftly, and help me lift the king upon it. We dare not bide here."
But before they could do his bidding, the first drift of the storm was upon them. Knights and spearmen and archers fled among the tents, stumbling over ropes and baggage, and mingled with them were Nemedian riders, who smote right and left at all alien figures. Tentropes were cut, fire sprang up in a hundred places, and the
plundering had already begun. The grim guardsmen about Conan's tent died where they stood, smiting and thrusting, and over their mangled corpses beat the hoofs of the conquerors.”

But none of those details matter in comparison to this simple Truth; Conan is defeated, Aquilonia conquered and the whole of the world seems to lie open to Xaltotun and the enslaved Nemedia…

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Also Crown of Blood has a new edition, with maps, character bios and more!