Bran Mak Morn: The Last King

by Robert E. Howard

  They were clad in well-woven kilts and leathern sandals. Each wore a light shirt of chain mail and a vizorless helmet, but this was all of their defensive armor. Celts, Gaelic or Brythonic, were prone to judge a man� valor by the amount of armor he wore. The Britons who faced Caesar deemed the Romans cowards because they cased themselves in metal, and many centuries later the Irish clans thought the same of the mail-clad Norman knights of Strongbow.

  Cormac� warriors were horsemen. They neither knew nor esteemed the use of the bow. They bore the inevitable round, metal-braced buckler, dirks, long straight swords and light single-handed axes. Their tethered horses grazed not far away �big-boned animals, not so ponderous as those raised by the Britons, but swifter.

  Bran� eyes lighted as the two strode through the camp. �hese men are keen-beaked birds of war! See how they whet their axes and jest of the morrow! Would that the raiders in yon camp were as staunch as your men, Cormac! Then would I greet the legions with a laugh when they come up from the south tomorrow.� They were entering the circle of the Northmen fires. Three hundred men sat about gambling, whetting their weapons and drinking deep of the heather ale furnished them by their Pictish allies. These gazed upon Bran and Cormac with no great friendliness. It was striking to note the difference between them and the Picts and Celts �the difference in their cold eyes, their strong moody faces, their very bearing. Here was ferocity, and savagery, but not of the wild, upbursting fury of the Celt. Here was fierceness backed by grim determination and stolid stubbornness. The charge of the British clans was terrible, overwhelming. But they had no patience; let them be balked of immediate victory and they were likely to lose heart and scatter or fall to bickering among themselves. There was the patience of the cold blue North in these seafarers �a lasting determination that would keep them steadfast to the bitter end, once their face was set toward a definite goal.

  As to personal stature, they were giants; massive yet rangy. That they did not share the ideas of the Celts regarding armor was shown by the fact that they were clad in heavy scale mail shirts that reached below mid-thigh, heavy horned helmets and hardened hide leggings, reinforced, as were their shoes, with plates of iron. Their shields were huge oval affairs of hard wood, hide and brass. As to weapons, they had long iron-headed spears, heavy iron axes, and daggers. Some had long wide-bladed swords.

  Cormac scarcely felt at ease with the cold magnetic eyes of these flaxen-haired men fixed upon him. He and they were hereditary foes, even though they did chance to be fighting on the same side at present �but were they?

  A man came forward, a tall gaunt warrior on whose scarred, wolfish face the flickering firelight reflected deep shadows. With his wolfskin mantle flung carelessly about his wide shoulders, and the great horns on his helmet adding to his height, he stood there in the swaying shadows, like some half-human thing, a brooding shape of the dark barbarism that was soon to engulf the world.

  �ell, Wulfhere,�said the Pictish king, �ou have drunk the mead of council and have spoken about the fires �what is your decision?� The Northman� eyes flashed in the gloom. �ive us a king of our own race to follow if you wish us to fight for you.� Bran flung out his hands. �sk me to drag down the stars to gem your helmets! Will not your comrades follow you?� �ot against the legions,�answered Wulfhere sullenly. � king led us on the viking path �a king must lead us against the Romans. And Rognar is dead.� � am a king,�said Bran. �ill you fight for me if I stand at the tip of your fight wedge?� � king of our own race,�said Wulfhere doggedly. �e are all picked men of the North. We fight for none but a king, and a king must lead us �against the legions.� Cormac sensed a subtle threat in this repeated phrase.

  �ere is a prince of Erin,�said Bran. �ill you fight for the Westerner?� �e fight under no Celt, West or East,�growled the viking, and a low rumble of approval rose from the onlookers. �t is enough to fight by their side.� The hot Gaelic blood rose in Cormac� brain and he pushed past Bran, his hand on his sword. �ow mean you that, pirate?� Before Wulfhere could reply Bran interposed: �ave done! Will you fools throw away the battle before it is fought, by your madness? What of your oath, Wulfhere?� �e swore it under Rognar; when he died from a Roman arrow we were absolved of it. We will follow only a king �against the legions.� �ut your comrades will follow you �against the heather people!�snapped Bran.

  �ye,�the Northman� eyes met his brazenly. �end us a king or we join the Romans tomorrow.� Bran snarled. In his rage he dominated the scene, dwarfing the huge men who towered over him.

  �raitors! Liars! I hold your lives in my hand! Aye, draw your swords if you will �Cormac, keep your blade in its sheath. These wolves will not bite a king! Wulfhere �I spared your lives when I could have taken them.

  �ou came to raid the countries of the South, sweeping down from the northern sea in your galleys. You ravaged the coasts and the smoke of burning villages hung like a cloud over the shores of Caledon. I trapped you all when you were pillaging and burning �with the blood of my people on your hands. I burned your long ships and ambushed you when you followed. With thrice your number of bowmen who burned for your lives hidden in the heathered hills about you, I spared you when we could have shot you down like trapped wolves. Because I spared you, you swore to come and fight for me.� �nd shall we die because the Picts fight Rome?�rumbled a bearded raider.

  �our lives are forfeit to me; you came to ravage the South. I did not promise to send you all back to your homes in the North unharmed and loaded with loot. Your vow was to fight one battle against Rome under my standard. Then I will aid your survivors to build ships and you may go where you will, with a goodly share of the plunder we take from the legions. Rognar had kept his oath. But Rognar died in a skirmish with Roman scouts and now you, Wulfhere the Dissension-breeder, you stir up your comrades to dishonor themselves by that which a Northman hates �the breaking of the sworn word.� �e break no oath,�snarled the viking, and the king sensed the basic Germanic stubbornness, far harder to combat than the fickleness of the fiery Celts. �ive us a king, neither Pict, Gael nor Briton, and we will die for you. If not �then we will fight tomorrow for the greatest of all kings �the emperor of Rome!� For a moment Cormac thought that the Pictish king, in his black rage, would draw and strike the Northman dead. The concentrated fury that blazed in Bran� dark eyes caused Wulfhere to recoil and drop a hand to his belt.

  �ool!�said Mak Morn in a low voice that vibrated with passion. � could sweep you from the earth before the Romans are near enough to hear your death howls. Choose �fight for me on the morrow �or die tonight under a black cloud of arrows, a red storm of swords, a dark wave of chariots!� At the mention of the chariots, the only arm of war that had ever broken the Norse shield-wall, Wulfhere changed expression, but he held his ground.

  �ar be it,�he said doggedly. �r a king to lead us!� The Northmen responded with a short deep roar and a clash of swords on shields. Bran, eyes blazing, was about to speak again when a white shape glided silently into the ring of firelight.

  �oft words, soft words,�said old Gonar tranquilly. �ing, say no more. Wulfhere, you and your fellows will fight for us if you have a king to lead you?� �e have sworn.� �hen be at ease,�quoth the wizard; �or ere battle joins on the morrow I will send you such a king as no man on earth has followed for a hundred thousand years! A king neither Pict, Gael nor Briton, but one to whom the emperor of Rome is as but a village headman!� While they stood undecided, Gonar took the arms of Cormac and Bran. �ome. And you, Northmen, remember your vow, and my promise which I have never broken. Sleep now, nor think to steal away in the darkness to the Roman camp, for if you escaped our shafts you would not escape either my curse or the suspicions of the legionaries.� So the three walked away and Cormac, looking back, saw Wulfhere standing by the fire, fingering his golden beard, with a look of puzzled anger on his lean evil face.

  The three walked silently
through the waving heather under the far-away stars while the weird night wind whispered ghostly secrets about them.

  �ges ago,�said the wizard suddenly, �n the days when the world was young, great lands rose where now the ocean roars. On these lands thronged mighty nations and kingdoms. Greatest of all these was Valusia �Land of Enchantment. Rome is as a village compared to the splendor of the cities of Valusia. And the greatest king was Kull, who came from the land of Atlantis to wrest the crown of Valusia from a degenerate dynasty. The Picts who dwelt in the isles which now form the mountain peaks of a strange land upon the Western Ocean, were allies of Valusia, and the greatest of all the Pictish war-chiefs was Brule the Spear-slayer, first of the line men call Mak Morn.

  �ull gave to Brule the jewel which you now wear in your iron crown, oh king, after a strange battle in a dim land, and down the long ages it has come to us, ever a sign of the Mak Morn, a symbol of former greatness. When at last the sea rose and swallowed Valusia, Atlantis and Lemuria, only the Picts survived and they were scattered and few. Yet they began again the slow climb upward, and though many of the arts of civilization were lost in the great flood, yet they progressed. The art of metal-working was lost, so they excelled in the working of flint. And they ruled all the new lands flung up by the sea and now called Europe, until down from the north came younger tribes who had scarce risen from the ape when Valusia reigned in her glory, and who, dwelling in the icy lands about the Pole, knew naught of the lost splendor of the Seven Empires and little of the flood that had swept away half a world.

  �nd still they have come �Aryans, Celts, Germans, swarming down from the great cradle of their race which lies near the Pole. So again was the growth of the Pictish nation checked and the race hurled into savagery. Erased from the earth, on the fringe of the world with our backs to the wall we fight. Here in Caledon is the last stand of a once mighty race. And we change. Our people have mixed with the savages of an elder age which we drove into the North when we came into the Isles, and now, save for their chieftains, such as thou, Bran, a Pict is strange and abhorrent to look upon.� �rue, true,�said the king impatiently, �ut what has that to do � � �ull, king of Valusia,�said the wizard imperturbably, �as a barbarian in his age as thou art in thine, though he ruled a mighty empire by the weight of his sword. Gonar, friend of Brule, your first ancestor, has been dead a hundred thousand years as we reckon time. Yet I talked with him a scant hour agone.� �ou talked with his ghost �� �r he with mine? Did I go back a hundred thousand years, or did he come forward? If he came to me out of the past, it is not I who talked with a dead man, but he who talked with a man unborn. Past, present and future are one to a wise man. I talked to Gonar while he was alive; likewise was I alive. In a timeless, spaceless land we met and he told me many things.� The land was growing light with the birth of dawn. The heather waved and bent in long rows before the dawn wind as bowing in worship of the rising sun.

  �he jewel in your crown is a magnet that draws down the eons,�said Gonar. �he sun is rising �and who comes out of the sunrise?� Cormac and the king started. The sun was just lifting a red orb above the eastern hills. And full in the glow, etched boldly against the golden rim, a man suddenly appeared. They had not seen him come. Against the golden birth of day he loomed colossal; a gigantic god from the dawn of creation. Now as he strode toward them the waking hosts saw him and sent up a sudden shout of wonder.

  �ho �or what is it?�exclaimed Bran.

  �et us go to meet him, Bran,�answered the wizard. �e is the king Gonar has sent to save the people of Brule.� II

  � have reached these lands but newly

  From an ultimate dim Thule;

  From a wild weird clime that lieth sublime

  Out of Space �out of Time.� Poe

  The army fell silent as Bran, Cormac and Gonar went toward the stranger who approached in long swinging strides. As they neared him the illusion of monstrous size vanished, but they saw he was a man of great stature. At first Cormac thought him to be a Northman but a second glance told him that nowhere before had he seen such a man. He was built much like the vikings, at once massive and lithe �tigerish. But his features were not as theirs, and his square-cut, lion-like mane of hair was as black as Bran� own. Under heavy brows glittered eyes gray as steel and cold as ice. His bronzed face, strong and inscrutable, was clean-shaven, and the broad forehead betokened a high intelligence, just as the firm jaw and thin lips showed will-power and courage. But more than all, the bearing of him, the unconscious lion-like stateliness, marked him as a natural king, a ruler of men.

  Sandals of curious make were on his feet and he wore a pliant coat of strangely meshed mail which came almost to his knees. A broad belt with a great golden buckle encircled his waist, supporting a long straight sword in a heavy leather scabbard. His hair was confined by a wide, heavy golden band about his head.

  Such was the man who paused before the silent group. He seemed slightly puzzled, slightly amused. Recognition flickered in his eyes. He spoke in a strange archaic Pictish which Cormac scarcely understood. His voice was deep and resonant.

  �a, Brule, Gonar did not tell me I would dream of you!� For the first time in his life Cormac saw the Pictish king completely thrown off his balance. He gaped, speechless. The stranger continued:

  �nd wearing the gem I gave you, in a circlet on your head! Last night you wore it in a ring on your finger.� �ast night?�gasped Bran.

  �ast night or a hundred thousand years ago �all one!�murmured Gonar in evident enjoyment of the situation.

  � am not Brule,�said Bran. �re you mad to thus speak of a man dead a hundred thousand years? He was first of my line.� The stranger laughed unexpectedly. �ell, now I know I am dreaming! This will be a tale to tell Brule when I waken on the morrow! That I went into the future and saw men claiming descent from the Spear-slayer who is, as yet, not even married. No, you are not Brule, I see now, though you have his eyes and his bearing. But he is taller and broader in the shoulders. Yet you have his jewel �oh, well �anything can happen in a dream, so I will not quarrel with you. For a time I thought I had been transported to some other land in my sleep, and was in reality awake in a strange country, for this is the clearest dream I ever dreamed. Who are you?� � am Bran Mak Morn, king of the Caledonian Picts. And this ancient is Gonar, a wizard, of the line of Gonar. And this warrior is Cormac na Connacht, a prince of the isle of Erin.� The stranger slowly shook his lion-like head. �hese words sound strangely to me, save Gonar �and that one is not Gonar, though he too is old. What land is this?� �aledon, or Alba, as the Gaels call it.� �nd who are those squat ape-like warriors who watch us yonder, all agape?� �hey are the Picts who own my rule.� �ow strangely distorted folk are in dreams!�muttered the stranger. �nd who are those shock-headed men about the chariots?� �hey are Britons �Cymry from south of the Wall.� �hat Wall?� �he Wall built by Rome to keep the people of the heather out of Britain.� �ritain?�the tone was curious. � never heard of that land �and what is Rome?� �hat!�cried Bran. �ou never heard of Rome, the empire that rules the world?� �o empire rules the world,�answered the other haughtily. �he mightiest kingdom on earth is that wherein I reign.� �nd who are you?� �ull of Atlantis, king of Valusia!� Cormac felt a coldness trickle down his spine. The cold gray eyes were unswerving �but this was incredible �monstrous �unnatural.

  �alusia!�cried Bran. �hy, man, the sea waves have rolled above the spires of Valusia for untold centuries!� Kull laughed outright. �hat a mad nightmare this is! When Gonar put on me the spell of deep sleep last night �or this night! �in the secret room of the inner palace, he told me I would dream strange things, but this is more fantastic than I reckoned. And the strangest thing is, I know I am dreaming!� Gonar interposed as Bran would have spoken. �uestion not the acts of the gods,�muttered the wizard. �ou are king because in the past you have seen and seized opportuni
ties. The gods or the first Gonar have sent you this man. Let me deal with him.� Bran nodded, and while the silent army gaped in speechless wonder, just within ear-shot, Gonar spoke: �h great king, you dream, but is not all life a dream? How reckon you but that your former life is but a dream from which you have just awakened? Now we dream-folk have our wars and our peace, and just now a great host comes up from the south to destroy the people of Brule. Will you aid us?� Kull grinned with pure zest. �ye! I have fought battles in dreams ere now, have slain and been slain and was amazed when I woke from my visions. And at times, as now, dreaming I have known I dreamed. See, I pinch myself and feel it, but I know I dream for I have felt the pain of fierce wounds, in dreams. Yes, people of my dream, I will fight for you against the other dream-folk. Where are they?� �nd that you enjoy the dream more,�said the wizard subtly, �orget that it is a dream and pretend that by the magic of the first Gonar, and the quality of the jewel you gave Brule, that now gleams on the crown of the Morni, you have in truth been transported forward into another, wilder age where the people of Brule fight for their life against a stronger foe.� For a moment the man who called himself king of Valusia seemed startled; a strange look of doubt, almost of fear, clouded his eyes. Then he laughed.