A Witch Shall Be Born — Themes and Context
Edition facts
This digital edition of A Witch Shall Be Born — Themes and Context is described by source-level measurements including 19,973 words, 1 hr 27 min estimated reading time, and 2 detected text sections.
The text analysis averages about 16.6 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.
Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Fantasy fiction, American,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.
Calculated from edition completeness, EPUB availability, text structure and catalogue metadata. Not a user rating.
How this score is calculated
- Description quality20 pts
- Title & short description10 pts
- Source metadata20 pts
- Text length15 pts
- Chapters / structure15 pts
- EPUB file integrity20 pts
Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.
Read the Text
They were not driven so deeply into the wood as the others had been.
He rose stiffly and stood upright on his swollen, lacerated feet, swaying drunkenly, the icy sweat dripping from his face and body. Cramps assailed him and he clamped his jaws against the desire to retch.
Olgerd, watching him impersonally, motioned him toward the stolen horse. Conan stumbled toward it, and every step was a stabbing, throbbing hell that flecked his lips with bloody foam. One misshapen, groping hand fell clumsily on the saddle-bow, a bloody foot somehow found the stirrup. Setting his teeth, he swung up, and he almost fainted in midair; but he came down in the saddle--and as he did so, Olgerd struck the horse sharply with his whip. The startled beast reared, and the man in the saddle swayed and slumped like a sack of sand, almost unseated. Conan had wrapped a rein about each hand, holding it in place with a clamping thumb. Drunkenly he exerted the strength of his knotted biceps, wrenching the horse down; it screamed, its jaw almost dislocated.
One of the Shemites lifted a water-flask questioningly.
Olgerd shook his head.
'Let him wait until we get to camp. It's only ten miles. If he's fit to live in the desert he'll live that long without a drink.'
The group rode like swift ghosts toward the river; among them Conan swayed like a drunken man in the saddle, bloodshot eyes glazed, foam drying on his blackened lips.
3 A Letter to Nemedia
The savant Astreas, traveling in the East in his never-tiring search for knowledge, wrote a letter to his friend and fellow-philosopher Alcemides, in his native Nemedia, which constitutes the entire knowledge of the Western nations concerning the events of that period in the East, always a hazy, half-mythical region in the minds of the Western folk.
Astreas wrote, in part: 'You can scarcely conceive, my dear old friend, of the conditions now existing in this tiny kingdom since Queen Taramis admitted Constantius and his mercenaries, an event which I briefly described in my last, hurried letter. Seven months have passed since then, during which time it seems as though the devil himself had been loosed in this unfortunate realm. Taramis seems to have gone quite mad; whereas formerly she was famed for her virtue, justice and tranquillity, she is now notorious for qualities precisely opposite to those just enumerated. Her private life is a scandal--or perhaps "private" is not the correct term, since the queen makes no attempt to conceal the debauchery of her court. She constantly indulges in the most infamous revelries, in which the unfortunate ladies of the court are forced to join, young married women as well as virgins.
'She herself has not bothered to marry her paramour, Constantius, who sits on the throne beside her and reigns as her royal consort, and his officers follow his example, and do not hesitate to debauch any woman they desire, regardless of her rank or station. The wretched kingdom groans under exorbitant taxation, the farms are stripped to the bone, and the merchants go in rags which are all that is left them by the tax-gatherers. Nay, they are lucky if they escape with a whole skin.
'I sense your incredulity, good Alcemides; you will fear that I exaggerate conditions in Khauran. Such conditions would be unthinkable in any of the Western countries, admittedly. But you must realize the vast difference that exists between West and East, especially this part of the East. In the first place, Khauran is a kingdom of no great size, one of the many principalities which at one time formed the eastern part of the empire of Koth, and which later regained the independence which was theirs at a still earlier age. This part of the world is made up of these tiny realms, diminutive in comparison with the great kingdoms of the West, or the great sultanates of the farther East, but important in their control of the caravan routes, and in the wealth concentrated in them.
The opening chapter, 'The Blood-Red Crescent,' establishes a doppelgänger plot: queen Taramis awakens to find a disembodied head that speaks with her own face, claiming to be her twin sister. The apparition's voice is described as 'honeyed venom,' and the candles flare up 'like flaming serpents'—a sensory detail that signals supernatural intervention. The catalog subjects list 'Fantasy fiction, American' and 'Conan (Fictitious character) -- Fiction,' but the excerpts devote more space to the twin sisters' confrontation and the political intrigue of Khauran than to Conan himself. He does not appear until the fourth chapter, 'Wolves of the Desert,' where he is already a lieutenant to the raider Olgerd Vladislav, bearing scars from a crucifixion mentioned in passing.
Twin Identities and the Usurper's Voice
The story hinges on a physical double: Taramis and Salome are identical in 'every contour of feature and limb,' yet Salome's face reflects 'the opposite of every characteristic the countenance of the queen denoted.' The text emphasizes this contrast through dialogue—Salome's speech is 'sweet, poisonously mocking,' while Taramis is bewildered and fearful. The usurper's cruelty is suggested by her plan to 'cut off her head in the public square,' but the excerpts do not reveal whether this is carried out. The mute beggar who overhears this plot recognizes the queen lives, hinting at a resistance thread that the incomplete text leaves unresolved.
Desert Politics and the Mercenary's Rise
Chapter 4 shifts to a tented camp where Olgerd Vladislav, a former Zaporoskan hetman turned desert chief, debates strategy with Conan. Olgerd's attire is described in lavish detail—'white silk,' 'pearls,' 'green silk turban'—contrasting with Conan's 'black mesh-mail' and 'worn leather scabbard.' Their exchange reveals a pragmatic alliance: Olgerd boasts of his leadership, while Conan counters that he has 'earned everything' with 'blood and sweat.' The dialogue touches on recruitment, raiding, and ambitions of empire, grounding the fantasy in the logistics of desert warfare. The catalog's 'Conan' subject is accurate, but the excerpts show him as a lieutenant, not the primary protagonist of the opening chapters.
Recurring Motifs: Scars, Mirrors, and Severed Heads
Several details recur across the excerpts. Scars mark Conan's palms and body, linking to his crucifixion; the beggar's hands are 'brown, sinewy' and 'quivering strongly,' suggesting hidden strength. Severed heads appear twice: the apparition's head in a disk of light, and a literal severed head held by the beggar. Mirror imagery pervades the twin scene—Taramis feels she is looking into a 'mirror which subtly altered her reflection.' These motifs reinforce themes of identity and violence, but the excerpts do not explain the beggar's role or the head's significance. The catalog's 'Fantasy fiction, American' label fits, but the story's structure—shifting from palace horror to desert adventure—is more varied than the subject headings suggest.
Readers should note that the excerpts cover only the first four chapters and the Project Gutenberg boilerplate; the full story may resolve the twin plot and Conan's rise. The catalog subjects emphasize Conan, but the opening chapters focus on Taramis and Salome, making the queen's fate a central question. Pay attention to how Howard uses sensory details—light, voice, texture—to distinguish the sisters, and how the desert setting contrasts with the palace's claustrophobic magic.
That Conan story left me thinking about how a twin can wear your face and still be a stranger, and how betrayal sometimes feels like losing your own name. It reminded me of something quieter but just as sharp in Mrs. Maxon Protests — Inside the Classic, where identity gets twisted in a more domestic, aching way. That ache lingers, believe me.
There are no reviews for this eBook.
Take a moment to reflect on this book
Create a short personal record of your experience with this book.