The Black Knight E-Book

Richard Blakemore

• Herausgeber: Cora Buhlert
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

The Lords of Angilbert have been a thorn in the side of the Kings of Azakoria for decades, refusing to pay taxes or to accept the authority of the throne.

King Kurval of Azakoria inherited the conflict with the Black Knight of Angilbert from his predecessor. Determined to bring the Black Knight to heel once and for all, Kurval besieges Castle Angilbert. But when he finally comes face to face with the mysterious Black Knight, he's in for a shock.

The law demands that the Black Knight be executed for treason. However, Kurval does not want to sentence the Black Knight to death, especially once he learns that the Lords of Angilbert have a very good reason to hate the Kings of Azakoria.

But is it even possible to find a peaceful solution or can the feud with the Black Knight of Angilbert end only in bloodshed and death?

The new sword and sorcery adventure by two-time Hugo finalist Cora Buhlert and her occasional alter ego, 1930s pulp writer Richard Blakemore. This is a novella of 33400 words or approx. 112 print pages in the Kurval series but may be read as a standalone. Includes an introduction and afterword.

Warning: This is a dark story, which contains scenes of a violent and sexual nature.

Leseprobe

The Black Knight

by Richard Blakemore

Bremen, Germany

Copyright © 2021 by Cora Buhlert

All rights reserved.

Cover image by © Tithi Luadthong via Dreamstime

Cover design by Cora Buhlert

Pegasus Pulp Publications

Mittelstraße 12

28816 Stuhr

Germany

www.pegasus-pulp.com

Introduction

by Cora Buhlert

Nowadays, pulp fiction writer Richard Blakemore (1900 — 1994) is best remembered for creating the Silencer, a masked vigilante in the style of the Shadow or the Spider, during the hero pulp boom of the 1930s.

Furthermore, Richard Blakemore is also remembered, because he may or may not have been the real life Silencer, who stalked the streets of Depression era New York City, fighting crime, protecting the innocent and punishing the guilty just like his pulp counterpart.

The mystery surrounding the Silencer has long overshadowed Richard Blakemore’s other works. For like most pulp writers, Blakemore was extremely prolific and wrote dozens of stories in a variety of genres for Jakob Levonsky’s pulp publishing empire. Blakemore’s work spans the full range of the pulps, from crime stories via westerns, war and adventure stories via romance to science fiction and fantasy. Indeed, the sheer amount of stories Richard Blakemore wrote during the 1930s refutes the theory that he was the Silencer, for when would he have found the time?

Of the many non-Silencer stories Richard Blakemore wrote, the most interesting are his forays into the genre now known as sword and sorcery.

Richard Blakemore was an acknowledged fan of Weird Tales and particularly admired the works of Robert E. Howard, Clark Ashton Smith and C.L. Moore. And so, when Jakob Levonsky started up his own Weird Tales competitor called Tales of the Bizarre, Blakemore immediately jumped at the chance to write for the magazine and created Thurvok, a warrior hero in the mould of Conan, Kull and Bran Mak Morn.

Thurvok first appeared in the story “The Valley of the Man Vultures” in the first issue of Tales of the Bizarre in 1936 and quickly became a regular feature of the magazine. Pegasus Pulp Publishing has recently brought the adventures of Thurvok and his companions back into print.

However, the Thurvok series is not the only contribution that Richard Blakemore made to the budding sword and sorcery genre. For in the July 1937 issue of Tales of the Bizarre, Richard Blakemore introduced a new character called Kurval in the novelette “King’s Justice”.

Kurval is a somewhat older and wiser character than Thurvok and his friends. He is described as a barbarian from beyond the sea who has seized the throne of the kingdom of Azakoria after slaying the previous king.

Whereas the Thurvok stories are characterised by banter, adventures, swordplay and battles with monsters, the Kurval tales are more serious and mostly deal with Kurval’s struggles to be a good and just king, even as he finds himself faced with subjects who don’t respect him as well as with would-be plotters and assassins.

When asked why he chose to create a new sword and sorcery hero in Kurval and didn’t just go the Conan route and make Thurvok into a king, Richard Blakemore answered, “I had an idea for a story — the story that eventually became ‘King’s Justice’ — that simply didn’t fit into the framework of the Thurvok series. For Thurvok is quite happy being a wandering sellsword, thank you very much, and Meldom, much as I like him, should not be placed in any position of authority. And so I created a new character. Initially, I intended for Kurval to appear only in that one story. But I liked him and so I continued to use him for stories which didn’t fit Thurvok and friends.”

The first four Kurval stories were all novelettes, but “The Black Knight” is a novella and the longest Kurval story to date. It is also a pivotal story for the series as a whole. Not only does the reader finally learn about Kurval’s parentage and upbringing, but “The Black Knight” also introduces Lady Adeliz, a character who will go on to play an important role in the series.

In general, the Kurval stories are darker and more serious than the rather light-hearted Thurvok stories. “The Black Knight” is even darker than the rest of the series, for key to the mystery Kurval has to deal with is a truly horrific crime committed by one of his predecessors. The themes of justice and mercy, which run through the entire Kurval series are also once again addressed in this story.

“The Black Knight” is also notable for the fact that it contains a sex scene that is remarkably frank by the standards of the pulp era. And indeed, this scene was cut for the original publication in the December 1937 of Tales of the Bizarre and has been restored from the original manuscript for this edition. It is telling that a scene of sexual violence, described in flashback, did make it into the original publication.

Richard Blakemore was an acknowledged admirer of C.L. Moore and “The Black Knight” is influenced by her Jirel of Joiry stories, as Blakemore himself openly admitted.

Pegasus Pulp Publishing is proud to present to you the adventures of Kurval, King of Azakoria, for the first time in print since 1930s. So buckle up and prepare to accompany Kurval as he is faces…

…the Black Knight.

The Black Knight

by Richard Blakemore

“King Kurval the Just had many enemies in Azakoria, but he had just as many allies, men and women who would have laid down their life for him without a heartbeat of hesitation. Of the many allies and supporters of King Kurval, none was more important than the stately figure in black armour that stood beside the throne and fought by Kurval’s side in countless battles, a figure known as the Black Knight of Angilbert…”

From the Chronicles of Azakoria by Ragur, Count Falgune

I. The Siege

The castle of Angilbert clung to the side of the mountains of Harlovec on the eastern border of the Kingdom of Azakoria, a stark black silhouette against the flaming dawn sky.

There were countless legends about those mountains, tales of fearsome beasts and daring outlaws who had made their home on these hostile peaks. And there were just as many tales and legends about Castle Angilbert itself and its Lords. Depending on which legend you chose to believe, the Lords of Angilbert were either heroic liberators and protectors of the downtrodden or cruel tyrants who engaged in unspeakable rites in the dungeons that reached deep into the black rock. The truth, as always, was likely somewhere in the middle.

From the saddle of his stallion Shadowmane, Kurval, King of Azakoria, gazed up at the castle, wondering what was going on behind those forbidding walls.

“They say that Castle Angilbert is impregnable, Sire,” Izgomir, Kurval’s vizier and chief councillor said with as much awe in his voice as Kurval had ever heard, “Never in a thousand hundred years have its walls been breached, though not for lack of trying.”

“We don’t need to breach those walls,” Kurval said. He was in full armour — silver chased with gold — though he was not wearing his helmet. “We just need to besiege the castle and make sure nothing and no one gets out or in. Sooner or later, they will give up.”

“The Black Knight of Angilbert never gives up,” Izgomir said darkly, “More than twenty years ago, King Brogan thought he had the Lord of Angilbert brought to heel, when he captured the Lord’s only daughter and her escorts. The attendants were punished and the girl held for ransom until the Lord of Angilbert bowed his knee to the throne. Which he did. But that was only a brief respite, for as soon as the girl was reunited with her father, the Black Knight of Angilbert started up his reign of terror again.”

Privately, Kurval sympathised with the rebellious Lord. He certainly wouldn’t have been kindly inclined towards anybody who kidnapped a child of his.

“Black Knight or not, the Lord of Angilbert and his people still have to eat,” Kurval pointed out, wondering not for the first time just why Izgomir was so impressed by this recalcitrant Lord. “It’s the end of the winter, so their stores will be largely depleted. So either this Black Knight surrenders or he shall starve along with his men.”

“No one knows if the Lords of Angilbert are even fully human,” Izgomir continued, “There are rumours that deep inside the mountain, there is a portal to the underworld itself, where demons and creatures from the pit dwell. There even are stories…” Izgomir shuddered theatrically, “…that those of Angilbert are mating with demons down there.”

“I don’t care if the Lords of Angilbert mate with the Great Old Ones themselves…” Kurval countered, “…as long as they accept the authority of the crown.”

This was obviously not the response Izgomir had expected. With sniffy disdain he said, “They’re not fully of noble blood, at any rate.”

“Well, I’m not of noble blood at all, so we should get along just fine,” Kurval remarked.

Izgomir wisely said nothing more.

The Lords of Angilbert had been a thorn in the side of the Kings of Azakoria for centuries now. They valued their independence, refused to pay taxes, supply troops and bow to the throne.

Kurval had inherited the quarrel with Adelard, the current Lord of Angilbert, from his predecessor Orkol. Apparently, Adelard had been sending back the heads of tax collectors and soldiers sent to bring him down to Orkol for at least three years now.

Not that Kurval didn’t sympathise. Orkol had bled the people dry via ever higher taxes to finance his lavish lifestyle. That was part of the reason why no one in Azakoria much mourned the late King Orkol, after Kurval slew him and took the throne for himself. Though the people of Azakoria didn’t particularly like Kurval either. After all, he was a foreigner, a barbarian from across the sea. Though he did try to do better by the people who were now his than Orkol had ever done.

Kurval couldn’t have cared less about the quarrel between Orkol and Adelard of Angilbert. After all, Orkol was dead and Adelard likely in the right. However, the last tax collector sent to Castle Angilbert — with a message that Orkol was dead and Kurval was willing to let bygones be bygones — had returned with an arrow in his thigh. And that Kurval could not ignore.

After all, that tax collector was one of Kurval’s people and had been wounded in the service of his King. True, the man had survived his injury with no worse aftereffects than a persistent limp, but Adelard could not be allowed to get away with wounding one of Kurval’s men. And so Kurval had done what Orkol should have done long ago. He took two regiments — the elite Blood Guard and the somewhat less elite Silver Sentinels — to besiege Castle Angilbert and finally bring the Black Knight to heel.

II. In the Shadow of the Gallows

Behind Kurval, the hollow clangs of a hammer echoed through the rising dawn. Some of his men were building a gallows, a gallows large and sturdy enough to hang Adelard and several of his followers. That had been Izgomir’s idea. Erect a gallows and show Adelard exactly what fate awaited him, if he did not bend his knee to the throne.

Kurval had inherited Izgomir from the late King Orkol along with the throne and the kingdom. As a result, Izgomir had been dealing with the trouble caused by the Black Knight of Angilbert for much longer than Kurval himself had. It was only too understandable that he’d want Adelard brought to justice. Though privately, Kurval suspected that Izgomir simply enjoyed executing people.

Kurval cast a glance at Ragur, Count Falgune, who rode by his other side. At every bang of the hammer, the young man flinched. Again, his reaction was only too understandable, considering that Ragur Falgune had been sentenced to die on a gallows just like this one, after his father had been caught plotting against the King. Kurval had paroled Ragur, once he realised that the boy knew nothing of his father’s intrigues. Nonetheless, the memories conjured up by the hammering and the sight of the gallows had to be painful.

“So how fares Nelaira?” he asked the boy to distract him from the sinister thuds.

“She is fine, Sire, and sends her regards.”

Ragur beamed, as always when he talked of his wife of less than a year. Kurval had paroled her as well, though unlike Ragur, Nelaira had actually tried to kill him.

“In the beginning, she was often sick in mornings, but now that the babe is growing, she is feeling much better. Just before I left, she told me that she could feel the babe moving inside her.”

“That’s excellent news,” Kurval replied. He meant it, too. Ragur and Nelaira had been through so much pain and sorrow and they were theoretically still under a sentence of death, too, though Kurval had no intention of hanging either of them. Still, they deserved some happiness. And a child promised happiness.

“Nonetheless, sir, I…” Ragur lowered his eyes. He was clad in the plain armour of a common soldier and around his neck he still wore the noose by which he would have been hanged to remind him of the punishment that awaited him, should he ever become disloyal.

“…I am worried,” Ragur confessed.

Kurval patted the shoulder of the young Count in encouragement.

“There is no need. Women have been having babies for thousands of years. They are strong, stronger than us menfolk will ever be. And as the Countess Falgune, Nelaira will have the best physicians, healers and midwives in the realm to attend her, when the time comes.”

“It’s not that. I know that Nelaira is strong and that she and our babe will be healthy. But…”

A blush raced over the young Count’s pale face.

“…I worry that I will not be a good father to our child.”

Kurval turned to Ragur, genuinely surprised. “Whyever would you think that?”

Ragur lowered his eyes. “My own father… he was not a good man…”

Kurval had known that much. In his brief acquaintance with the elder Count Falgune, the man had been nothing but trouble, a plotter, a traitor and a coward.

“…and he was not a good father either.”

That bit was news to Kurval, though not exactly unexpected, given his impression of the late Count. The man barely seemed to remember he even had children. He certainly never pleaded for their lives and was for more interested in saving his own neck.

“I don’t know what he wanted out of a son. But whatever it was, I wasn’t it…”

There was a pause and Kurval thought that Ragur was finished, but then the boy continued, haltingly.

“For my father, I was never strong enough, tough enough, not enough of a warrior. So he hired weapons masters to train me and my brothers. And whenever I failed, my father had my trainers or my older brothers beat me, to make me stronger, he said. Sometimes, he also beat me himself, but mostly he couldn’t be bothered and just let others do it…”

Kurval’s hand tightened on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice trembling with barely suppressed anger. May the elder Count burn in the fires of the underworld for abusing his sons and condemning them to the gallows.

“I guess this training was successful in the end, because I eventually started to fight back. Not enough to satisfy my father, because I’d never be as skilled a swordsman as my brother Adric and I’d never be as strong a fighter as my brother Fardulf, but enough that he left me alone and just ignored me. He barely even talked to me anymore, so that I honestly had no idea he was plotting treason until your men came to arrest me. I’m sorry, Sire. Maybe I could have done something, if I had known…”

“It’s all right. I know that none of this is your fault. You’ve grown into a fine warrior and better man and I know you’ll be a wonderful father to your child. If your own father couldn’t see that, then it was his loss, not yours.”

Ragur turned to him, his expression still troubled. “I know I should mourn my father and my brothers, that I should at least miss them, even though I know they brought their fate upon themselves. But… well, mostly I’m just relieved they’re gone.”

Kurval said nothing, just patted the boy on the shoulder. How much pain and disaster had the elder Count Falgune wreaked by blindly pursuing his ambition to take the throne?

“However, I worry that I will turn out like my own father…” Ragur continued after a pause, “…that I will hurt my child, even though I don’t want to. After all, I doubt that my father set out to destroy our family and get us all killed, even if that’s where his path led in the end.”

Kurval was certain that the late Count Falgune had never much thought about anyone or anything at all or he would have known that his plot would never succeed.

Nonetheless, Ragur needed reassurance, so Kurval said, “You’re not like your father and you will never be like him. I would not let you ride by my side, if it were otherwise.”

That seemed to satisfy the young Count, for he flashed Kurval a shy smile. However, there was clearly something that was still on his mind.

“Sire, I know I never asked, but my father and my brothers… did they face their death bravely? And did they suffer much?”

“They died bravely…” Kurval said, though it was a lie, at least as far as the elder Count Falgune was concerned. For the Count had trembled and quivered and begged for mercy right up to the end, like the worthless coward that he was. But Ragur did not need to know that.

As for the two older sons, Kurval found that he could not remember them. There had been so many conspirators hanged that day, thirty-five altogether. And what did it say about him that he could not even remember the names and faces of those he’d condemned to death?

“…and they did not suffer.”

That at least was the truth. None of the conspirators had suffered much. Kurval had ordered the hangman to make sure of that.