Red Sonja is the
best-known Howard creation that Howard didn’t actually create. The
character “Red” Sonya of Rogatino appears in the historical
adventure story “Shadow of the Vulture”, but she is a far cry
from the chainmail-bikini-clad pop culture figure who stole her name.
Sonya’s not the only example of a warrior woman from Howard’s
work, though. We also have the pirate woman Valeria from “Red
Nails”, and the better-known Belit from “Queen of the Black
Coast”. Both of these women served as romantic interests for Conan
himself. But there’s another red-headed hell-raiser in the Howard
canon who doesn’t get as much play as she should: Dark Agnes of
Chastillon.
Created during a
period when Howard was working hard to break out of just writing for
Weird Tales and into the so-called Adventure Pulps, which meant a
wider market and better pay, Agnes is unusual among his heroes. For
one, he wrote her in first person, which he did not do that often,
and for another, she is probably the most fully-realized female
character he ever created. Inhabiting her POV forced him to consider
her much more completely than he usually did for his work, and it
shows what he could have become if he’d had more time.
The two completed
Dark Agnes tales are a ride. Definitely meant to be in the tradition
of The Three Musketeers and other, similar works of swashbuckling
high adventure, Howard managed instead a kind of hybrid style. He
was not able to keep his trademark bloody violence damped down to
Dumas levels, and so rather than classic French Romantic swordplay
with clashing blades and bon mots, he produced savage, head-cleaving,
limb-lopping action that is probably a much more realistic depiction
of the violence of the day.
The historiocity is
a bit of a mess. This is meant to be set in the 16th
century sometime, but Agnes is depicted as wearing mail armor – a
style that had then been out of use for centuries – and her
swordplay seems much more medieval in style, with no mention of
schools of dueling, parrying daggers, or other things common in the
era. Also, pistols are used quite often, but with no mention of the
fussy, match-burning mechanics of the contemporary weapons. It’s
best to just look on these as a kind of historical fantasy.
But he got the feel
just right. Not of the period, but of the stories set in the period.
There is enough intrigue, treachery, backstabbing, mistaken
identity, overheard conversations, ambushes, and chases to fuel an
entire novel in just these two tales. Howard was an addict of fast,
tightly-plotted action, and nobody else has ever done it quite as
well.
Tellingly, Agnes is
not a princess or a nobleman’s daughter or a lost heiress, but the
peasant daughter of a drunk, abusive ex-soldier. Her tale begins
with her father announcing she is to be married off, and when she
objects he knocks her out and when she wakes up she’s all dressed
and about to be hitched to some standard fat, ugly dude. Her older
sister gives her a dagger and tells her to kill herself rather than
be forced into marriage, but Agnes isn’t having any of that shit.
When they drag her to the altar she pulls out the blade, shanks the
groom in the heart, and then simply runs off into the forest. There
she meets affable rogue/possible love interest Etienne Villiers and
her adventures get rolling.
Sadly, they never
had as much of a chance as they could have. Howard only completed
two Agnes stories, leaving a third, “Mistress of Death”
unfinished. The third tale began to include some fantasy elements,
so it is possible that he was writing it more for the Weird Tales
market. Neither of the completed stories saw print until 1975,
almost 40 years after Howard’s death. Originally published in The
Nemedian Chronicles fanzine, they were all collected in the Sword
Woman anthology by Zebra in 1977, later reprinted by Berkley and
Ace. The book has been out of print for a long time, but used copies
can be found.
Like so much of
Howard’s work, the Dark Agnes stories are frustrating because they
are so good, and they moan with the lost potential of what he left
unfinished. Here he showed that yes, he could write a well-rounded
female character, and do it better than his imitators so many decades
later. The stories have the sense of a much larger tale left
unfinished, and maybe this is part of the reason why Howard’s work
has been so ripe for pastiche and posthumous collaboration – seeing
the shadow of the story that never existed, you want to help tell it,
you want to finish it, because he never got the chance.
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