Pulp Fantasy Library: The Blade of the Slayer

An aspect of the Golden Age of the Pulps I find especially congenial is the freedom with which its authors borrowed from and included homages to the works of their comrades. H.P. Lovecraft famously encouraged his fellow Weird Tales fictioneers to take whatever they wished from his tales and make use of them as they saw fit; he, in turn, did the same. It was all in good fun and speaks to the easy collegiality of those bygone days (something that, perhaps unsurprisingly, reminds me of the early days of the Old School Renaissance as well). 

I was reminded of this when I recently re-read "The Blade of the Slayer," the fourth of Richard L. Tierney's Cthulhu Mythos-tinged historical fantasies featuring Samaritan gladiator-turned-Gnostic-magician Simon of Gitta. The tale originally appeared in the first issue of Pulse Pounding Adventure Stories (December 1986), a fanzine produced by Cryptic Publications that featured artwork by Stephen Fabian. The 'zine was very short-lived, with only two issues, the second of which (released in December 1987) also included another Simon of Gitta yarn.

"The Blade of the Slayer" takes place in January, A.D. 32, which is relatively early in the career of Simon, as he travels through Parthia on the run from the agents of Rome. The story's action picks up quickly, with Simon evading a band of cutthroats in the desert. While attempting to hide, he encounters an old man, "tall and white-bearded, clad in a dark greenish robe inscribed with the symbols of the Persian Magi." 

"Ho, stranger." The voice of the old man was nearly as thin as the cold wind. "Why do you come here to the site of the First City?"

"The–what?" Simon rose from his fighting crouch and approached the old man cautiously. "What are you talking about–?"

"And you have not heard that the spirit of the First Slayer, who founded it, still lingers about this ridgetop, waiting for unwary strayers?"

Simon glanced about at the numerous worn boulders, at the dry grasses blowing under the chill wind. "Aye, I've heard such tales. But, surely, no city ever stood here–"

"The legend is true. No outsider is safe in this place. You must go."

Simon is more concerned with his immediate safety and so is not put off by the warnings of the Magus. He beseeches the old man to hide for a short time, assuring him he has no interest in anything else. The old man relents, leading him into "a small room carved from the living rock and meagerly furnished with a cot, a wooden table, and two stools." He offers Simon some food, but again warns him about the spirit of the First Slayer, which the old man claims will overwhelm the Samaritan without magical protection. Simon scoffs and boasts that he, too, "[has] been trained in magical arts by Parthia's very own Magi."

"Aye, I know you now," said the oldster, his manner becoming a bit less suspicious. "You are Simon of Gitta, a pupil of the Archimage Daramos. I saw you several months ago, when I and several other priests of my order visited Daramos in Persepolis. Daramos mentioned to us that you were his most accomplished adept."

Simon, too, relaxed a bit more. "Thank you. But your memory is better than mine. I recall your visit, but not your name–"

"I am K'shasthra, priest of the Order of the High Guardians. At least one adept of our Order is always stationed here to guard the secret that–that for now must be kept from mankind. We have kept guard thusly for nearly two years. So much I may reveal to you, who have already been initiated into many secrets of the Magi. Perhaps I shall tell you more–but only with the understanding that the outer world must never know, until the Order has decided that the time is right."

In time, K'shasthra recognizes Simon as a powerful ally and agrees to reveal the secret his Order hides from the rest of mankind. The cave in which the old man dwells is part of a series of underground chambers that were dug beneath the First City, reduced to dust after thousands of years. Despite its name, the First City was actually "a walled fortress, founded by the First Slayer in fear of many who, fired by his example, sought to pursue and slay him."

"But the Slayer was under the curse of the great world-creator Achamoth," K'shasthra went on, "–the Demiurge who has fashioned the First Men to serve him. For his rebellion a Mark was set upon the Slayer; all who saw it shunned him in fear, and he was cursed to leave his city to his followers and wander forever over the face of the earth, hating and slaying, spreading new hatred and death."

"You mean," gasped Simon, "–this was–the city of Enoch …?" 

The strength of the Simon of Gitta stories is the way that Tierney deftly blends the history, myths, and religions of the ancient world – including those of the Bible, as in this case – with all manner of occult and Lovecraftian nuttery to present compelling, almost Howardian tales of blood and thunder. Likewise, Tierney regularly engages in the same kinds of borrowings, homages, and in-jokes as his Weird Tales forebears. In this particular case, he does more than simply have Simon's saga intersect with that of the Biblical first murderer. He brings him into contact with another pulp fantasy character inspired by those same stories. The result is every bit as fun as those of Lovecraft, Howard, or Smith, hence my fondness for "The Blade of the Slayer."

The saga of Simon of Gitta has long been out of print. Fortunately, Pickman's Press has collected them all into a single volume very recently and I highly recommend them to anyone interested in this unusual series of sword-and-sandal stories. 

The Pulp Fantasy Library: The Scroll of Thoth

Richard L. Tierney has long associations with the writings and ideas of H.P. Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard, having penned scholarly articles about these authors as well as fiction derived from their works. Unsurprisingly, Tierney's own fiction is suffused with the sensibilities of both. One such story is "The Scroll of Thoth," first published in the pages of Swords Against Darkness #2 in 1977. It's another installment in Tierney's saga of Simon of Gitta, better known to history as Simon Magus, the sorcerer who challenges St. Peter in Acts of the Apostles. 

In Tierney's telling, Simon is a Samaritan ex-gladiator turned magician who travels across the 1st century Roman Empire, fighting the entities of the Cthulhu Mythos. Of course, Tierney's revisionism isn't limited to Simon himself. His portrayal of the Cthulhu Mythos is tinged with Gnosticism: the Demiurge is none other than the blind idiot god, Azathoth, for example. Whether one likes this approach or not, there's no question that it's a bold one. More than that, it's a terrific set-up for a Howardian tale of historical fantasy.

"The Scroll of Thoth" takes place at the start of A.D. 41, during the reign of the emperor Gaius Caligula. As it opens, the emperor is overseeing the torture and execution of a prisoner. Upon the prisoner's death, Gaius orders his Egyptian physician to read an invocation from the Book of Thoth intended to restore the deceased man to life once more. The ritual seems to work at first, but the risen corpse quickly collapses into a heap and does not stir again. It's worth noting that, in an aside, Tierney notes that the Book of Thoth was written in "the forgotten language of dark, sorcery-riddled Stygia, the fabled land which had flourished before even nighted Egypt – a revelation that the Thoth of its title is not the Egyptian deity but rather Conan's old adversary, Thoth-Amon (a revelation similar to one found in a previous story of Simon of Gitta, "The Ring of Set.")

Soon after, we learn the reason for Caligula's actions. He boasts to the commander of his Praetorian guardsmen, Cassius Chaerea:

"… never forget, though you are a commander of men, that I am a commander of gods and demons! What you have seen this day is but the birth of my power over all things. Long have I labored to achieve what you have just seen – the conquest of death! Long have a I garnered the occult wisdom of antique Khem and Mesopotamia, and many are the experiments I have performed in this very chamber – and now, at last, as you have seen with your own eyes, I have banished Death himself, if only for a moment, from the lifeless clay. Soon I shall learn to banish him utterly – and then I shall live forever!" He surveyed the room with burning exultant eyes, as though expecting a challenge. No one spoke.

"Forever!" he shouted. "Do you hear me? I'll live forever!"

I have two comments here. First, take a moment to relish the pulpy goodness of the passage above. If ever there was a historical character worthy of being portrayed as a power-mad pulp fantasy villain, it's Gaius Caesar Augustus Germanicus. What makes the above passage so enjoyable is the way it plays with the popular understanding of the third Roman emperor and his claims to divinity. I find it delightfully over the top. Second, for the historically minded, the name of Cassius Chaerea should be well known and a tip-off as to where the narrative of "The Scroll of Thoth" might go. 

We soon learn that the Egyptian physician whom Caligula has employed is named Menophar and that the slave he brought with him to attend the emperor is none other than Simon of Gitta in disguise. Together, they discuss the mad emperor's plan to acquire eternal life "and in the end rule all gods as well as all men." This he hopes to do by gaining the favor of both the Deep Ones, "who live for aeons, perhaps forever," and the Pain Lords (the Great Old Ones).

Simon shuddered slightly. He had long known of Gaius' madness, yet only now did he realize the full extent of it.

"You were right, Menophar: Whatever the cost, the Book of Thoth must not remain in the hands of this lunatic. It is the most dangerous of all sorcerous works, and in Gaius' hands it could make him the most dangerous of men."

"But you, Simon of Gitta, are perhaps the most adept of all magicians – and that is why you have been chosen for this task."

Simon scowled, and then took another sip of wine. "I am not a true magician," he said, "in that there is naught of true magic in anything I do. Yet you are right; I have learned enough to be an accomplished mummer – perhaps the best."

"And a fighter! Your service in the arena may stand you in better stead than ever your 'mummery', as you choose to call it. You have seen the situation here; consider what must next be done. I think you realize, Simon of Gitta, that the fate of all men may rest on the success or failure of this venture."

"The Scroll of Thoth" is quite short – fifteen pages – and to the point, but it's got some terrific ideas and memorable scenes. It's fun, fast-moving historical fantasy filled with Lovecraftian-tinged Gnosticism and sword-and-sorcery action worthy of Robert E. Howard. I cannot speak more highly of this story, especially if you're a fan of Roman history and legend.  

Pulp Fantasy Library: The Ring of Set

Written in 1960 but not published until 1977 (in the anthology Swords Against Darkness), "The Ring of Set" is Richard L. Tierney's first tale of Simon of Gitta, the Samaritan gladiator-turned-sorcerer who lived during the 1st century A.D. Simon of Gitta is a fictionalized version of the Biblical personage Simon Magus, who appears as Saint Peter's antagonist in the Acts of the Apostles and after whom the sin of simony (the buying and selling of Church offices) is named. Tierney, however, portrays Simon is a largely positive light, turning him into a magical adept doing battle against the Cthulhu Mythos as reinterpreted through the lens of Gnosticism, with Yog-Sothoth standing in for the Demiurge.

Tierney is a fascinating writer. He has a long association with the writings of both Robert E. Howard and H.P. Lovecraft, an association that comes through quite clearly in "The Ring of Set." Much of Tierney's fictional output was devoted to several novels (in collaboration with David C. Smith) about Roy Thomas's Red Sonja, a character Tierney and Smith tried to portray as someone more genuinely "Howardian" than her original conception. Whether they succeeded or not remains a matter of debate. Tierney also wrote a Bran Mak Morn pastiche (again with David C. Smith), as well as editing two collections of Howard's historical yarns. He's notable too for having been one of the earliest Lovecraft commentators to suggest that August Derleth had distorted the meaning and themes of HPL's stories, a position that was controversial in the early 1970s but has since become widely accepted.

What's interesting is that, while critical of Derleth's presentation of the Mythos, Tierney nevertheless makes some use of it, albeit from a skewed perspective. Tierney's Gnostic-tinged vision accepts that the Great Old Ones are in rebellion against the Elder Gods, but Tierney portrays the Elder Gods as distant and uncaring about humanity and the myriad other creatures that have arisen in the universe they have created. In this environment, humanity can expect no celestial aid against the Great Old Ones and must instead use whatever resources are at hand to preserve itself in a cold, unfeeling universe. Given that, Simon of Gitta's sorcerous adventures make a great deal of sense. As a "true spirit," who understands the nature of reality, he seeks out spells and ancient artifacts to aid him in his quest for transcendence.

"The Ring of Set" is thus a fun sword-and-sandal tale about Simon's efforts, on behalf of his current mentor, Ka-nephru, highest priest of Ptah in Thebes, to obtain a cursed ring -- the eponymous Ring of Set -- that has been stolen and put up for auction in Rome, where its eventual buyer is none other than the emperor Tiberius. Simon attempts to warn Tiberius of the ring's danger:

"The ring is old, older than all the nations of the earth. It was owned by Thoth-Amon, a sorcerer who lived ten thousand years ago in the land which is now called Egypt. The ring was old even then, but Thoth-Amon learned of its powers and used them to call up demons to do his bidding. His enemies died with the marks of fangs and claws on their bodies, and for a time none could resist his power.

"Yet the ring was not all-powerful: Once, Thoth-Amon invoked its power to destroy a king -- but the king had an ally who a greater sorcerer than even Thoth-Amon, and the ring's power was turned aside The king lived, and later Thoth-Amon died, but the curse was still on the ring and has never been lifted. Since then several kings have tried to wear the ring, but each died a terrible death, so that at last the priests of Egypt hid the thing beneath one of their altars -- and there it lay for nearly ten thousand years, until Diomed's curiosity brought it to light once more."

Tierney is here referencing the very first Conan story, "The Phoenix on the Sword," where Thoth-Amon makes his only canonical appearance in the Hyborian Age. It's also worth noting that Howard himself used the Ring of Set outside of "The Phoenix on the Sword," placing it in the Lovecraft-inspired John Kirowan story, "The Haunter of the Ring."

Tiberius doesn't heed Simon's warning, instead arresting him and throwing him into prison. Soon, though, Tiberius' nephew and heir, Gaius, comes to Simon with a proposition:

"I do not mock you, Simon of Gitta," said Gaius, bending forward and speaking in a low, intense voice. There was a strange gleam in his deep-set eyes. "Tiberius pretends to scoff at the hidden powers of magic, but I am not such a fool. Do you know that the Emperor has fallen ill? Aye, it happened but an hour after he had left the auction-place, and though he vows it is but a passing sickness I can see death approaching in his eyes. The ring is responsible, Simon -- I know it is the ring!"

"What do you want of me, then?"

"The ring, Simon -- and the power to wear it. Old Tiberius has named me his heir, and when he dies I will be Emperor of Rome. Yet an emperor has many enemies -- his throne is never secure. With the power of this ring at my command I would never need fear their plots; my enemies would fall to the fangs of demons, and none could ever dare hope to dispute my rule!"

How Simon responds to Gaius' proposition and the events that follow make up the bulk of the story and an enjoyable one it is.

Tierney clearly has some axes to grind, both historical and religious. Indeed, some of them come across to me as somewhat puerile, the kind of thing an adolescent would do to tweak his elders' sensibilities, though little of this is evident in this story. That said, there's no denying that the mixture is Howardian swords-and-sorcery, Lovecraftian entities, Gnostic nonsense, and the ancient Roman setting is a heady one. Despite my dislike of Simon, who's arrogant and self-absorbed, Tierney has created something very compelling in "The Ring of Set" -- so compelling that I eventually read as many of his Simon of Gitta's tales as I could. Though, as I said, I didn't find Simon particularly sympathetic as a protagonist, the world he inhabits is a terrific one and great inspiration for anyone looking to find a way to blend Howard and Lovecraft or to create a dark historical fantasy (or both). Consequently, I recommend the story most highly, if you can find a copy.