Today I conclude this "mini-series" on the pivotal works of Robert E. Howard, one of the most influential authors in Appendix N, shaping the Dungeons & Dragons experience.
I have already covered Conan in Part 1, and his horror stories in Part 2. Today I am going to talk two of his other characters, King Kull of Atlantis and Solomon Kane.
Kull of Atlantis: Silence Where a Witch (or even Women) Might Be
Kull’s stories are dreamlike, almost mythic, often more about philosophy than plot. Women of any kind are scarce, and witches are entirely absent. When sorcery intrudes, it comes from male figures: Thulsa Doom, the snake-men, necromancers, shadowy priests.
Is Kull even interested in women? Howard never shows him with lovers, nor does he pit him against the temptations or sorceries of an enchantress. Kull broods on law, on identity, on the shifting unreality of his throne, but not on witches, or even women for that matter. Their absence says much: the philosopher-king is concerned with metaphysical threats, not the seductions or mysteries that witches (and sorcerers) often embody in Howard’s other tales.
Kull's most significant interaction with a woman comes from one of his earliest tales. A girl in his village is being burned at the stake for taking a lover from the wrong tribe. Kull, not seeing the justice in this, uses his own flint dagger to give her a merciful, quick death. For which he is hunted.
Speaking of flint daggers. Kull is supposed to be taking place around 100,000 BCE. So really pre-history, but it feels more like 100 BCE in terms of "technology." Granted it is "lost age" the same sort you see working in Wasted Lands: The Dreaming Age. Credit where it is due, Howard does do a great job of making it feel like Kull predates Conan by centuries.
If Kull, and Conan, are covered well by Wasted Lands and other Fantasy RPGs, then Kane is dipping right into horror.
Solomon Kane: A Puritan Without Witches
If Kull’s Atlantean dreamtime excludes witches entirely, Solomon Kane’s early modern setting seems tailor-made for them. The 16th and 17th centuries were rife with witch trials and burnings, and Kane is a zealous Puritan avenger. You’d expect him to clash with witches by the dozen. But he never does.
Instead, Kane’s foes are vampires, demons, revenants, and African sorcerers. Women in his stories are usually victims or innocents caught in evil’s path, never witches themselves. Was this deliberate on Howard’s part? Perhaps he didn’t want women as Kane’s outright antagonists, preferring instead to cast him against inhuman horrors or exotic magics.
One exception worth noting is Nakari from The Moon of Skulls. She is cruel, manipulative, and queenly, with many of the trappings of a witch, save for actual sorcery. She does have a coven of sorts, her "Starmaidens" and she knows some Atlantean rituals. She rules through charisma and cruelty, not spells. And despite her names she is neither demon nor vampire. Kane’s crusade against her feels witch-hunter-like, yet Howard stops short of giving her magic. Again, we see the absence: Kane fights monsters, not witches.
Kane is adventure fiction, but it dips into horror and horror themes more often than not.
Kull, Conan, and Kane make up an interesting trinity of Howard protagonists. All are cut from the same cloth and each could be a reincarnation of the previous.
Accidental Feminism?
Now, I do want to say upfront that Howard considered himself a feminist. He had some very progressive views for his time, but also some fairly typical ones. People are complicated.
If Conan’s world has some witches and Kane’s and Kull’s are completely barren of them, what does that say about Howard? His female characters are sometimes villains (Salome, Tascela, Nakari), but they are also commanding presences, equal to or greater than the men who face them. When Howard leaves witches out, women almost vanish. But that absence makes it striking when he does put women at the forefront, because when he does, they are unforgettable.
Think of Bêlit, the Queen of the Black Coast, who is as fierce and ambitious as Conan himself. Or Valeria of the Red Brotherhood, a woman who makes her own choices and follows her own path. Red Sonya of Rogatino and Dark Agnes de Chastillon are not sorceresses at all, but warrior women who seize the agency the world denies them. These characters aren’t “witches” in the pulpy sense, but they are Howard’s women: strong, willful, larger than life, and often overshadowing the men around them. Red Sonya appears in one tale, yet "Red Sonja" has hundreds, including comics, novels, and a new movie out. Bêlit & Valeria have also appeared in plenty of comics together, often sans Conan, to prove they are interesting enough characters in their own right. Even if I am getting a bit of a Betty & Veronica vibe from them sometimes. Though Red Sonja has teamed up with Betty & Veronica in the past.
That duality shows up outside the stories too. In a famous letter to Harold Preece, Howard rattled off a litany of great women, from Sappho and Aspasia to Joan of Arc, Emma Goldman, and Edna St. Vincent Millay, defending their genius, passion, and rightful place in history. “Women have always been the inspiration for men,” he wrote, “and… there have been countless women whose names have never been blazoned across the stars, but who have inspired men on to glory.”
Howard’s pulp tales are not feminist manifestos, but they carry a paradox I’d call his “accidental feminism.” In his fiction, women may be cast as temptresses, pirates, or witches, but they are never weak. And in his private words, he saw women as philosophers, poets, and warriors equal to any man. It may be accidental, but it left us with heroines and enchantresses who still burn as brightly on the page today as they did nearly a century ago.
Conclusion
There are more Robert E. Howard tales. Lots more, and many that could be fundamental to what the D&D experience was going to become. But here is where I part ways with the author. I found his sword & sorcery tales to be captivating, his horror stories fascinating, and his heroes equally as wonderful in their own imperfect ways. There is a reason why we all know of Conan and Kane, and to a lesser degree, Kull. Even his forgotten "step-daughter," Red Sonja.
When it comes to witches, Howard doesn't give me enough, though what he does give is wonderful. Salome and Tascela are fantastic characters who I would have loved to see more of, or more to the point, more like them. Too bad that they died in their respective tales; they would have made great antagonists for Bêlit, Red Sonja, and Valeria.
