Rattle of Bones

Rattle of Bones
Robert E. Howard
Featuring Solomon Kane, first appeared in Weird Tales, June 1929.

"Landlord, ho!" The shout broke the lowering silence and reverberated
through the black forest with sinister echoing.
"This place hath a forbidding aspect, meseemeth."
Two men stood in front of the forest tavern. The building was low, long
and rambling, built of heavy logs. Its small windows were heavily
barred and the door was closed. Above the door its sinister sign showed
faintly--a cleft skull.
This door swung slowly open and a bearded face peered out. The owner
of the face stepped back and motioned his guests to enter--with a
grudging gesture it seemed. A candle gleamed on a table; a flame
smoldered in the fireplace.
"Your names?"
"Solomon Kane," said the taller man briefly.
"Gaston l'Armon," the other spoke curtly. "But what is that to you?"
"Strangers are few in the Black Forest," grunted the host, "bandits
many. Sit at yonder table and I will bring food."
The two men sat down, with the bearing of men who have traveled far.
One was a tall gaunt man, clad in a featherless hat and somber black

garments, which set off the dark pallor of his forbidding face. The other
was of a different type entirely, bedecked with lace and plumes,
although his finery was somewhat stained from travel. He was
handsome in a bold way, and his restless eyes shifted from side to side,
never still an instant.
The host brought wine and food to the rough-hewn table and then stood
back in the shadows, like a somber image. His features, now receding
into vagueness, now luridly etched in the firelight as it leaped and
flickered, were masked in a beard which seemed almost animal-like in
thickness. A great nose curved above this beard and two small red eyes
stared unblinkingly at his guests.
"Who are you?" suddenly asked the younger man.
"I am the host of the Cleft Skull Tavern," sullenly replied the other. His
tone seemed to challenge his questioner to ask further.
"Do you have many guests?" l'Armon pursued.
"Few come twice," the host grunted.
Kane started and glanced up straight into those small red eyes, as if he
sought for some hidden meaning in the host's words. The flaming eyes
seemed to dilate, then dropped sullenly before the Englishman's cold
stare.
"I'm for bed," said Kane abruptly, bringing his meal to a close. "I must
take up my journey by daylight."
"And I," added the Frenchman. "Host, show us to our chambers."
Black shadows wavered on the walls as the two followed their silent
host down a long, dark hall. The stocky, broad body of their guide
seemed to grow and expand in the light of the small candle which he
carried, throwing a long, grim shadow behind him.
At a certain door he halted, indicating that they were to sleep there.

They entered; the host lit a candle with the one he carried, then lurched
back the way he had come.
In the chamber the two men glanced at each other. The only furnishings
of the room were a couple of bunks, a chair or two and a heavy table.
"Let us see if there be any way to make fast the door," said Kane. "I
like not the looks of mine host."
"There are racks on door and jamb for a bar," said Gaston, "but no bar."
"We might break up the table and use its pieces for a bar," mused Kane.
"Mon Dieu," said l'Armon, "you are timorous, m'sieu."
Kane scowled. "I like not being murdered in my sleep," he answered
gruffly.
"My faith!" the Frenchman laughed. "We are chance met--until I
overtook you on the forest road an hour before sunset, we had never
seen each other."
"I have seen you somewhere before," answered Kane, "though I can not
now recall where. As for the other, I assume every man is an honest
fellow until he shows me he is a rogue; moreover, I am a light sleeper
and slumber with a pistol at hand."
The Frenchman laughed again.
"I was wondering how m'sieu could bring himself to sleep in the room
with a stranger! Ha! Ha! All right, m'sieu Englishman, let us go forth
and take a bar from one of the other rooms."
Taking the candle with them, they went into the corridor. Utter silence
reigned and the small candle twinkled redly and evilly in the thick
darkness.
"Mine host hath neither guests nor servants," muttered Solomon Kane.
"A strange tavern! What is the name, now? These German words come

not easily to me--the Cleft Skull? A bloody name, i'faith."
They tried the rooms next to theirs, but no bar rewarded their search. At
last they came to the last room at the end of the