They reached a spacious court, open to the sky, and surrounded by arcades resting on marble pillars; the panelled ceilings were carved and inlaid in gold and colours; the pavement was rich mosaic. The unaccustomed eyes of the rude knights opened wide with wonder at the taste and refinement that met them at every step;– here they saw marble fountains, birds of many notes and wondrous plumage, strangers to the western world; there, in a further hall, more exquisite even than the first, “a variety of animals such as the ingenious hand of the painter might depict, or the license of the poet invent, or the mind of the sleeper conjure up in the visions of the night,– such, indeed, as the regions of the East and the South bring forth, but the West sees never, and scarcely hears of.” At last, after many turns and windings, they reached the throne room, where the multitude of the pages and their sumptuous dress proclaimed the splendour of their lord. Thrice did the vezir, ungirding his sword, prostrate himself to the ground, as though in humble supplication to his god; then, with a sudden rapid sweep, the heavy curtains broidered with gold and pearls were drawn aside, and on a golden throne, robed in more than regal state, the Caliph sat revealed. Upon comparison, it is easy to see what elements of each Howard drew on when writing Gates of Empire, pairing the imagery of Lane-Poole (and Guillaume de Tyr) with the brevity of Lamb and giving the whole a stamp of ownership that forever marks it as the work of Robert E. Howard. And for the record, the excerpt from Gates of Empire is the most dynamic of the three. It illustrates not only Howard’s instinctive ability to strike a proper balance between color and movement, but his mastery of the subject matter as well.

While I’ve singled out Gates of Empire for mention, as it is my own personal favorite, the same argument for its historicity can easily apply to the other tales in this collection. Despite what Howard may have believed about his lack of education or poor grasp of Oriental history, the fact remains that he was as meticulous and exacting as a trained historian when it came to winnowing details from his source material – and as flexible as only a master of the writing craft can be about fudging those selfsame details if, in the end, it made for a better story.