The Orpheus Descent by Tom Harper

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Pages: 496
Year: 2013 (23 May)
Buy: Hardback, Kindle
Source: Bought copy

Review
When archaeologist Lily disappears from the excavated remains of an ancient drowned city in southern Italy, we embark on a journey that will astonish us. Refusing to believe claims of friends and family, and police, that Lily has become another of those wives or husbands who simply decides one day to vanish, her husband Jonah, a musician, begins his own investigation, insisting that the disappearance from the dig of a small gold tablet must be related and even worrying that Lily’s archaeological friends, his own friends, too, may know more than they say. Jonah sets of on a journey across Italy and Greece, following the clues, archaeological and otherwise, to find his wife. He is on a quest but he’s not the first.

The Orpheus Descent is a novel that tells two stories. In parallel to Jonah and Lily’s story is that of Plato. In the years following Socrates’ murder or assassination, Plato’s writings underwent a significant change as his philosophical view of life, love, beauty and virtue shifted. Tom Harper here gives us one possible reason for this. Plato is also on a quest. He is hunting for his friend Agathon or, more particularly, a book that Agathon was prepared to pay an enormous amount of money for but, as far as Plato can tell, he disappeared in the act of buying it. Wars between Greek and Italian cities makes this a dangerous time to travel but Plato is determined to find his friend and his book. Accompanying him through shipwreck and capture is philosopher Euphemus, a Sophist with an entirely different interpretation of goodness to Plato. Both philosophies will be tested. But as the hunt continues, following the clues left by people he encounters as well as his own gold tablet, the possibility arises that Plato is also not the first to follow this path.

The two stories entwine like fibres of gold through The Orpheus Descent. As the novel progresses the strands knit closer but for much of the time they are linked by things wonderfully described and evoked – landscape, mythology, love, religion, desire, philosophy, jealousy, virtue. The Orpheus Descent is a superb reworking of some of the most familiar and beautiful myths of ancient Greece – Orpheus’ hunt for Eurydice in the Underworld among others. The landscapes of ancient and newer Greece and Italy, as well as the mythological landscape, are brought alive by the journeys of Jonah and Plato and the parallels between their two stories are awash with similarities and echoes.

Plato tells his story in the first person as if we are either reading his words or he is recounting them to us. Jonah’s story is in the third person. Hindsight tells us that Plato would survive his journey but there is nothing of the sort when it comes to Jonah. But what Plato’s survival and transformation tells us is that whatever he discovered must be truly miraculous and marvellous.

As befitting a novel inspired by ancient myth and philosophy, The Orpheus Descent has grand themes and elaborate plotting, connecting the two stories thousands of years apart in so many ways, but, just like Greek myths, it is also very simple and timeless. A man loves his wife, he loses her and he will find her.

The Orpheus Descent fascinates and entertains in lots of different ways. It is very successful as an adventure and thriller and, in the Plato half, also works well as a historical novel. But the two stories together, both of which I enjoyed equally, with all of the clever parallels and links with myths and quests, makes the novel utterly enchanting and brain testing in the best of ways. I think a basic knowledge of Greek mythology would enrich a reader’s enjoyment but it certainly isn’t necessary. This novel is genre-defying and the richer for it. I can’t recommend it enough.

The Blood of Gods by Conn Iggulden (Emperor 5)

Publisher: HarperCollins
Pages: 432
Year: 2013 (23 May)
Buy: Hardback, Kindle
Source: Review copy

Review
The story of the aftermath of the assassination of Julius Caesar in the Theatre of Pompey in 44BC is a familiar one, possibly the most famous of all Roman tales thanks to Shakespeare and Hollywood. For Conn Iggulden, though, it represents the inevitable and natural culmination of his superb series Emperor, which has brought alive the rise to power of the god Julius and now, in The Blood of Gods, depicts his fellow Romans slipping in his blood, scrambling for position, giving way under the indomitable obsession for revenge wielded by his adopted son Octavian, the new Julius Caesar – Rome’s first emperor in everything but name. The story might be familiar but Conn Iggulden brings a context to it, to Octavian’s dramatic rise to power, as well as a poignancy thanks to all that we have learned over previous books about Caesar’s deep friendship with Brutus, the final assassin. We can’t forget Mark Antony here either. Iggulden replaces the famous speech of Shakespeare’s Antony with a piece of gutwrenching theatre performed over the corpse of his friend. The die is cast and we’re on the road to Philippi before you know it.

The familiarity of the novel’s story is offset by Conn Iggulden’s perceptive insight into the characters of Caesar’s friends and enemies. This is especially true of Octavian, renamed Julius Caesar in the days following the killing. We are first introduced to Octavian and his brave and loyal friends Maecenas and Agrippa on leave in Greece. Their behaviour, which speaks large of bravery, honour and drunkenness, immediately has to readjust itself as Octavian learns of events in Rome. He is transformed into a young man with a mission. He is a poor man and so must use all his guile to win over support. It’s not possible to doubt for a minute that he won’t achieve power and the fulfilment of his oath to avenge his adopted father. Octavian is a fine creation here who comes into his own more and more as the chapters progress, mirroring the increasing confusion of Mark Antony. Both, ingeniously, are very likeable.

Mark Antony, a consul, is a man who holds great authority and wants to do the right thing by Caesar but knows that he must use all his charisma and intelligence just to stay alive. As the forces of Rome realign and ajust, these are dangerous days. Even facing each other across the battlefield is no guarantee that you know what side you’re on. You could almost feel pity for Brutus and Cassius but in The Blood of Gods the time for sympathy for Brutus’ ideals is past. In this book, the focus is very much on the complex character of Octavian instead.

There are some fantastic set pieces in The Blood of Gods. In addition to the famous last battle, there is also a harrowing sea battle led by Agrippa. This is real heart in the mouth action and while the creation of a new fleet should seem not out of the ordinary for the builders of the Empire’s network of roads, its heroism and gall is pounding. The horrifying battle sequences complement well the political machinations of Rome just as the combat exists side by side with great oratory. The manipulation of Rome’s masses is as important as prowess on the battlefield.

It’s been over five years since the publication of the last Emperor novel, The Gods of War. Now the story ends at last, just a few months short of Iggulden’s move to Penguin for the launch of his new Wars of the Roses series. There is indeed closure here. You can feel it in the few scenes with Brutus and Cassius, in the shifting of Mark Antony as he tries to find his own place of comfort and power, and in the resolution of Octavian Caesar to proclaim his adopted father a god, his assassins all slaughtered. Above all, though, The Blood of Gods is an enormously confident and accomplished novel that achieves the near impossible task of placing you, the reader, in the very heart of this most fascinating time in Roman history as a witness to the actions of its greatest men.

Pharaoh by David Gibbins

Publisher: Headline
Pages: 384
Year: 2013
Buy: Hardback, Kindle
Source: Review copy

Review
In 1351 BC, Akhenhaten, the Sun-Pharaoh, vanishes into the desert, leaving clues to his mysterious disappearance in the sands beside the Nile. In 1884, a British soldier serving in Sudan discovers the remains of a submerged temple dedicated to a god fed by human sacrifice. The soldier’s mission, though, is to reach General Gordon in Khartoum which is under siege by the forces of the enigmatic Mahdi. What he takes from the temple may be lost. In the present day, maritime archaeologist Jack Howard undertakes a dangerous dive into the Nile waters on the hunt for not only Akhenaten but also this Victorian British soldier, Major Edward Mayne of the Royal Engineers, who carried his own secrets.

It’s been a while since the publication of a David Gibbins novel but Pharaoh is well worth the wait. The last book in his Jack Howard thriller series, The Gods of Atlantis (review here), seemed to me to have an element of closure about it, bringing to a conclusion a circle that began with the first of the novels, Atlantis. In Pharaoh, Gibbins picks up a theme he visited in The Tiger Warrior in 2009, the history of Howard’s namesake and great great grandfather who served in the British Army in the the late 19th century. Gibbins here expands this to create an utterly absorbing historical adventure set in the Sudan in the 1880s. The original Howard is not a main player but he does give his descendant, our Jack Howard, a path into this fascinating period of British Imperial history. The thriller element that sat rather uncomfortably (I thought) in some of Gibbins’ earlier novels is at last allowed to have a rest, popping up here and there when needs be, but allowing itself to be replaced by what David Gibbins does best and does so well: historical adventure and archaeological mystery. When the adventure is as exciting as it is here, it is too good not to be allowed to speak for itself.

Following an introduction set in ancient Egypt, the novel is divided between modern day Egypt and Sudan and its Victorian past, when the British army was attempting to float or drag a small armada of boats through the cataracts of the Nile into the Sudan. They were in the perfectly awful position to be picked off one by one by the snipers of the Mahdi. Luckily for the British, they have with them the sharpest shooter of them all, Mayne, who, with his Native American scout Charrière, is on a mission from highest command to reach General Gordon. Mayne’s fascination for ancient Egypt has to take second place.

Almost a century and a half later, Jack Howard and his good friend and colleague Costas are on the trail of Akhenaten, along this same stretch of Nile, now mostly inundated since the construction of the Aswan Dam. They pick up the scent of Mayne and follow the story to its conclusion.

Jack and Costas, as always, are thoroughly good company. Their humour and ease together is matched only by their bravery and by their expertise. In previous novels, Jack’s lengthy (albeit very interesting) explanations of archaeological and historical details can cause the action of the stories to flounder but here that is not the case. The archaeological diving scenes are so well done, perfectly capturing the thrill, danger and claustrophobia. What takes precedent here, though, is Mayne’s story and it is so exciting and gripping, I could not stand to put the novel down. This is a period of British and Egyptian history I know next to nothing about but Gibbins here brings it to life, intensifying how almost alien this environment must have felt to the British (and American) soldiers dragging the boats through the crocodile-infested waters by bringing in glimpses and clues to the exotic ancient history that surrounded these men on their dangerous journey.

The Battle of Abu Klea is included here and I recall very few battle scenes I have read that are as intense as this one, if any. I was actually shocked by it and totally absorbed. Mayne is a fine creation but so too is General Gordon. We meet other famous men such as Kitchener but General Gordon comes alive in a way I wasn’t expecting.

Pharaoh is a superb novel. When I finished it, I remarked that I would have love to have read another 500 pages. Fortunately, the story will continue in Pyramid and I am guessing that this sequel will be much more focused on Howard and Costas (in extremis, no doubt).This seventh Jack Howard novel is most definitely the finest amongst a series of great books. Put aside your assumptions of what a thriller should be and instead immerse yourself in one of the best historical adventures you’ll read this year.

Other review
The Gods of Atlantis

Three Kings – One Throne by Michael Wills

Publisher: SilverWood Books
Pages: 264
Year: 2013
Buy: Paperback, Kindle
Source: Review copy

Review
The 11th century in England was a time of invasion, conquest, subjugation and tyranny. Kings had to rely on bribes, military might, persecution and guile to claim and hang on to the throne and the one period of relative calm – the reign of Edward the Confessor in the middle of the century – was sealed by the most infamous invasion of them all. English, Vikings, Danes and Normans all believed they had a stake in the land and, while this caused uncertainty and upheaval amongst the upper levels of society, it also brought catastrophe into the lives of the people of these islands.

In Three Kings – One Throne, Michael Wills examines these difficult years, this transition from Saxon and Viking to Norman and medieval, through the lives of two contrasting men: Torkil, the grandson of an Anglo Norse Thane on the Isle of Wight, who becomes the swordsman of Harold Godwinson, and Ivar, a Danish slave to prince Harald, whom he follows to Byzantium. It would seem, though, that all roads lead to Hastings and that is indeed where the novel takes us.

Three Kings – One Throne is a short novel but every page is filled with historical detail and knowledge. Not a line feels unconsidered and there is a strong sense as you read it that this is indeed how people of mixed classes and fortune lived, from the clothes on their backs, to the food they ate, ships they sailed and also their loyalties to clan, lord or king.

This air of authenticity that Michael Wills is so careful to create is also, for me, the difficulty with the novel as a story. As a piece of historical writing it is fascinating but as a story it felt far less successful. I’m not a fan of footnotes in a novel unless they serve a literary purpose (as with Pratchett), but here there are many of them and all they did was throw me out of the story. Such details – mostly translations – have a happier existence in a glossary where I can consult them when I choose. There are other devices which serve history far better than the characters. For instance, Torkil’s grandfather spends his deathbed days telling his daughter and grandson in every meticulous detail his life story from the beginning of the century. While what we learn is fascinating and gripping – his mother tried as a witch, raids and persecutions and so on – it suffers from the circumstances of its telling.

Matters aren’t helped, as Wills states himself, by two major characters sharing such similar names. It is difficult to avoid a confusion over the Haralds and Harolds.

Where Three Kings – One Throne succeeds is in its sincere and historically faithful (as far as I could tell) recreation of history during one of the most utterly absorbing periods of English history. Clearly, Michael Wills has much to teach us about these years and the men and women who suffered and fought through them. I would suggest, though, that he keeps more of an eye on the needs of a reader who wants to be taken away from the pages of a history textbook and thrown into the heart of such a potentially compelling human tale.

I was very pleased to be invited to be part of the Blog Tour for Three Kings – One Throne!
Yesterday’s post: Sir Read-A-Lot
Tomorrow’s post: Paula Peruses

Michael Wills’ website.

Brothers’ Fury by Giles Kristian

Publisher: Bantam Press
Pages: 400
Year: 2013 (23 May)
Buy: Hardback, Kindle
Source: Review copy

Review
The drama and violence of the English Civil War sliced families to shreds – both literally, on the battlefields and in fiercely contested streets, and psychologically, brother pitted against brother, father against son. Mothers, sisters, wives left with the shell of a home to maintain and facing very real danger themselves. This human tragedy is brought starkly into focus by Giles Kristian in his series begun with The Bleeding Land and now continuing with Brothers’ Fury. The land that bleeds is England and the brothers are Sir Edmund (Mun) and Tom Rivers. Mun fights for Prince Rupert and the crown while Tom belongs to Parliament. Neither fight for ideology, instead the elder fights for tradition and the good name of his father and the younger, Tom, for a mad and dark vengeance, inspired by Lord Denton, the barbaric aristocrat who killed his true love.

In the middle is sister Bess, a young woman and new mother of a baby that has lost its father. Bess is driven by her own goal – she will travel the torn, unsafe land to find Tom and reunite him with his brother. Supported by peasant Joe and Alexander Dane, an enigmatic and dangerous hand hired by her grandfather to protect her, Bess sets off into the heart of enemy territory. Meanwhile, both Mun and Tom have their own battles to fight and missions to accomplish, as they get caught in the politics and deception of civil war when there is almost none to trust and propaganda can play an equal part with guns and swords.

At the heart of Brothers’ Fury are Tom, Mun and Bess but they are supported by a host of vivid and colourful creations, men and women fighting their own cause and surviving as well as they can, some even profiting. The conflict within the Rivers family is mirrored in others, notably Lord Lidford and his young son Jonathan who slowly comes into his own through the pages, achieving great feats of bravery. War makes a man grow up fast. We have some of the familiar characters from The Bleeding Land, especially Mun’s loyal men. It’s a fair bet, though, that not all will survive to the next. Others are not at all what they seem, for good or for bad. Many, though, you will remember.

Giles Kristian is a master storyteller. In addition to an army of characters, he also brings places to life, most vividly here, London. Lichfield, Oxford. The research is worn lightly but effectively. As someone born and bred and living in Oxford, I know the streets well and I now see my own town very differently thanks to Brothers’ Fury. The segment of the novel set in Oxford will bring you to the edge of your seat and it was extra special for me to follow the chase through streets with old, now disused names, passing colleges or pubs that I know well. The Lichfield chapters put my heart in my mouth due to the horrific conditions endured by those on the defence and those on the attack. It’s hard to imagine (thank heavens) how utterly terrifying and dangerous it would have been to tunnel under the walls of a town while under bombardment.

The violence and drama are paired perfectly with the very human story of the two brothers and their sister. At times the events they suffer seem extreme, even touched by melodrama, but then you take a moment and realise that it is very likely that the truth would have been far stranger than fiction. That during the English Civil War behaviour took place in our streets, between neighbours, that we could not comprehend. Recently, I visited Winchcombe in Gloucestershire. The church has bullet scars on the exterior of the walls, the result of fighting through the streets. Similar scenes would have taken place across the country, no matter the size of the town.

Despite the horror of it all, and these are dark times indeed, there is hope and there is even humour. This comes through the endurance and camaraderie between men on both sides. There are also little moments of gold when Kristian makes reference to other characters from beyond these pages that, if you’re a fan of other English Civil War fiction, you’ll be delighted to pick up on. Look out, too, for references to Kristian’s other work, his superb Raven trilogy. In other words, keep your wits about you and you’ll be rewarded.

Brothers’ Fury is a highlight of 2013 for me, just as its predecessor The Bleeding Land was for 2012. I would argue that Giles Kristian has reached greater heights in Brothers’ Fury. The story is told with greater confidence and the vision is expanded, fitting little crucial adventures within a grander context. There is a lot of movement to the novel and it grips. How it grips! Brothers’ Fury is exhilarating and also personally involving, even upsetting in places. ‘This war has made killers of us all’, says Mun. In Brothers’ Fury we are not spared the consequences of this dreadful truth.

Do make sure you’ve read the excellent The Bleeding Land first.

Other reviews
The Bleeding Land
The Raven trilogy

The Scarlet Thief by Paul Fraser Collard

Publisher: Headline
Pages: 304
Year 2013 (9 May)
Buy: Hardback, Kindle
Source: Review copy

Review
In the 1850s, taking the Queen’s shilling (enlisting) was for many the only escape from poverty, the workhouse, the prisons or even the noose. The streets of London, though, no matter the amount of grime and disease, were no preparation for the slaughter fields of the Crimean War. It’s difficult to blame orderly Jack Lark when he seizes an opportunity of chance and puts on the uniform of his dead officer and takes his identity for himself. With a history he needs to escape, this could be the solution he needs. Jack Lark becomes Captain Arthur Sloames of the Royal Fusiliers.

But the rank of officer comes with an enormous price – keeping himself and his men alive in the face of Russian attack not to mention disease and the horrendous conditions of life on the frontline. Soldiers and officers might be separated by class, education and wealth but enemy bullets don’t care. Unfortunately for Clark/Soames, though, it’s not just foreign enemies he must contend with.

The Scarlet Thief is a very fast punchy read. After an introduction set in the barracks in Aldershot in England, we are launched into preparations for the Battle of the Alma in the Crimea in 1854. From then on in, there is little time to draw a breath. Lark has to consolidate his stolen position while at the same time dealing with his own self-doubt and the problem of leading men when guiding an army has become an exercise in bureaucracy, filling in forms, paying for commissions, knowing the right person, saying the right thing. As a mudlark with an unruly tongue, Jack Lark is a man who makes enemies easily although he better than anyone is able to see through the disguise of riches to asses the true nature of his brother officers. Many have the best of intentions. If only Lark didn’t have to keep looking over his shoulder.

My knowledge about the Crimean War is strictly limited to Florence Nightingale. I welcome, then, the chance to be given a peep inside an unfamiliar period. The Battle of Alma and the general conditions of fighting a war with far too few resources in the mud of the Crimea are told very well indeed. Characters come and go through the pages and I wanted to know more about most of them. These are terrible days, though. Not all will live long enough for us to get to know. But I would have welcomed the chance to have spent more time in Collard’s capable storytelling hands, being given more background about events and characters, not feeling that it was all such a rush.

The Scarlet Thief is a debut novel and it is an encouraging one. Jack Lark is an extremely interesting character and it is more than apparent that Collard knows his Crimean history very well just as he can also write very well. Unfortunately, the pace and brevity of The Scarlet Thief don’t do Collard the justice he deserves. I never like comparisons between books – for instance, thrillers hailed as the new Dan Brown or historical military fiction given the title of the ‘new Sharpe’ – I’m not a fan of either Brown or Sharpe. In this case, the similarities with Sharpe are very clear. The Scarlet Thief is catchy, exciting, violent and strongly driven by an intriguing and virulent leading male. No doubt he is also handsome but it’s difficult to tell as so little time is spent on the details. I do hope that in the next novel Collard is allowed to take his time, to develop more of his own voice and to expand on his undoubted historical knowledge and storytelling abilities. Given that chance, this could turn into a fascinating and thrilling new series.

The Ghosts of Athens by Richard Blake

Publisher: Hodder
Pages: 448
Year: 2013
Buy: Paperback, Kindle
Source: Review copy

Review
There is something fascinating about the fortune of western Europe during those years of mystery that lay between the Roman and Carolingian empires. Centuries of decline and decay, caused and aggravated by abandonment by the Roman authorities, now based in Constantinople, and attack by the northern tribes. Arguably, the one hope for those living amongst the ruins lay in the new Christian order which flourished in the West, just as it did in the East. Unfortunately, with the bishops not able to agree about even the nature of Christ, union seemed impossible and even undesirable.

It’s in this 7th-century world that we meet Aelric – senator and advisor to the emperor in Constantinople, troubleshooter and troublemaker, handy with fist and pen, with one eye open for attractive female company and the other for enlightening literary or theological texts. Having failed to keep the peace in Alexandria, Aelric is sent with Priscus, a deeply unsavoury general, to Athens. They are there to be either executed (or at least have their eyes burnt out) for having failed their master or to rule over an unhappy meeting of bishops and prelates designed to bring the western and eastern churches together. The fact that the novel is over 400 pages long indicates the latter.

The historical setting of The Ghosts of Athens is superb. The descriptions of Athens are compelling. The remains of the glory days can still be seen, admired and visited while the decayed city streets are filled with an ugly, diseased and impoverished population, as far removed as is possible to be from those famously godlike Athenians of antiquity. You can almost taste the rot. This is compounded by a description of a garden frog stew that put me off food for a week. And when a headless corpse turns up, pulled out from under an ancient tomb, and is subjected to the kind of treatment that only the despicable Priscus could summon up, I was reaching for a bucket.

There is an issue, though. This extraordinary historical colour is let down by a rambling and incoherent story that loses direction and point at every turn. Aelric has similar colour and is entertaining and shocking in equal measure. But he is not enough. The other characters came across to me as either cartoon grotesques or cardboard cutouts. Nobody seemed ‘normal’. The story could have been about the murder, it could have been about religious argument and debate, it could have been about a city on the point of violent collapse. I didn’t really know. It was a bit of all of these with Aelric’s own private agendas added in. Also, the early chapters are set at a future date in a fantastically-realised decrepit London but there was little to join it with the bulk of the novel.

The first third is excellent and pulled me in. The remaining two thirds did their best to spit me out. It is a shame because Rome’s death throes provide such a setting and Blake clearly enjoyed putting them to paper. The beginning is so much fun to read. However, a novel needs to give more to its reader, at least this reader.

The Ghosts of Athens is the fifth book in a series and it’s possible that if I had read the others I might have enjoyed it more. It’s unlikely, though, that I’ll read the next.

Traitor’s Field by Robert Wilton

Publisher: Corvus
Pages: 480
Year: 2013 (1 May)
Buy: Hardback, Kindle
Source: Review copy

Review
The British Isles were torn apart by the English Civil War but in 1649 the violence suffered by communities in pitched battles or on the streets of besieged cities and castles was compounded by an event that for many would have swept the ground from beneath their feet – the execution of the king by his subjects. It also presented Oliver Cromwell with a problem. He might have won the war but could he rule? The threads of the old ways, the old networks of government, could still be there, but deeply hidden and encoded by secrets, ready to be woken up by the right word said by the right man.

In Traitor’s Field we enter a chase or trail, a mystery meticulously plotted by Robert Wilton. We track Sir Mortimer Shay – the aged, portly, utterly ruthless last hope of the Royalist cause from the moment that he finds a letter, seemingly innocuous, on the body of a non-fighting man on the battlefield of Preston in 1648. A decisive victory for the Parliamentarians, the defeat marks the end for Charles I, but out of the devastation, literally from among the heaped bodies, Shay picks up the scent of the Royalist secret intelligence agency run by the Comptrollerate-General for Scrutiny and Security. We witness the network come alive.

Where you have Royalists, you also have Parliamentarians and in Traitor’s Field Shay’s opposing figure is John Thurloe, a young official making his name in Cromwell’s service. He is exceedingly clever. Like Shay. A cat and mouse game ensues, complete with snares and traps, false leads and false hopes. It is immensely dangerous, and not just for Shay and Thurloe, and we follow the hunt across all regions of the British Isles. I’m going to say nothing about the plot except to say that you will need to pay attention. Intrigue and adventure co-exist. Clever words, deceitful letters lie side by side with extreme bravery in the face of the enemy. Words, bullets, knife blades – all deadly.

But what makes Traitor’s Field such an engrossing and riveting novel is not just the excitement of the hunt, the intellectual pleasure of solving a clue or unravelling a thread, or even the chase through dark streets or across marshes, it is the characters that the plot encounters. As the story develops we meet the people Shay and Thurloe care for – their weaknesses – as well as other men and women willing to sacrifice their lives for future generations. ‘The things we have suffered for Charles Stuart’ is a frequent refrain. The Marquess of Montrose is just one of many characters who caused me grief. Charles I himself is such a poignant figure here. Wilton’s prose is heart wrenching and immediate. In a stream of consciousness, we follow the last thoughts of the King. Throughout the novel, Wilton gives us broken pieces from his characters’ thoughts – their worries and questions and uncertainties.

It is such a great strength of Robert Wilton’s writing – this combination of intellect and heart. Some of the novels ideas will haunt me for quite a while. Shay worries repeatedly about the world that he and Thurloe (or men like themselves) are leaving for future generations. This is especially painful because he knows he is the direct cause of young men being killed and young women being victimised. Women are relatively few here but that is also a theme. Shay’s wife, a figure I won’t forget quickly, reflects on legacy and sacrifice. We do have a young heroine – Rachel, Shay’s niece. Despite her dangerous situation she embodies hope and she makes both Shay and Thurloe reflect on whether civil war can ever be worth it. Thoughts shared by the young Charles Stuart hiding within the trees.

Don’t expect to read Traitor’s Field quickly. It comprises short segments with ‘reprints’ of documents, some using 17th-century fonts unfamiliar to modern readers. I liked how these were used a great deal and it pays to give them close attention. Characters and plotlines are only slowly unwound. There are plenty of action sequences but all the time you need to be alert for clues to the wider picture. The writing itself is stunning – questioning, disjointed, evocative, mixing tenses. The prose gives us no protection, it thrusts us into the heart of it all.

Traitor’s Field is a thoroughly rewarding and engrossing read. After I finished it, all I wanted was more. Much, much more.

I’m pleased to update the review with this author video from Robert Wilton.

The Last King of Lydia by Tim Leach

Publisher: Atlantic Books
Pages: 320
Year: 2013
Buy: Hardback, Kindle
Source: Review copy

Review
Despite his unimaginable riches, Croesus, King of Lydia, has been vanquished. In 547 BC, Croesus sits upon a throne of wood erected on top of a pyre, his white robes smeared with oil, quick to catch a flame. Watching him is Cyrus, King of the Persians, now lord of an even greater empire thanks to the military weakness of Croesus. He continues to conduct his business, knowing he has a few more minutes before his rival king will be lit up like a candle. Croesus uses these moments to reflect on an encounter with Solon, an old politician and philosopher from Athens. Having shown him his treasure rooms, endless in their variety and magnitude, Croesus asked the old man who he believed to be the happiest man alive. Croesus was shocked to discover that this man was not him. All this wealth, which Croesus believed must make him the happiest man alive, counted for nothing if he didn’t live and die well. It’s only now, waiting for the flames to catch, that Croesus begins to understand the waste.

The Last King of Lydia is Tim Leach’s first novel and this is an extraordinary fact because it is without doubt one of the finest pieces of writing I have read for a long time. Not just as historical fiction, at which it excels, but for its exquisite depiction of man’s search for contentment and happiness, a good life as well as a good death when the time for that is right. Not just for kings but also for those who serve them, their slaves as well as their wives and children. While the poorest in the fields and nameless villages have humble ambitions, to be ignored by passing armies, not to be killed or raped or enlisted or stolen from, those at the court of the king have to deal with the sacrifices of service. This might mean a slap, a grope, confinement, separation from loved ones. To be free, not just physically, is a worthy desire for contentment. For the king, his pleasures come at the cost of misery to many, not least to the blind slaves whose sole reason for existence, in a cave beneath the palace, is to count and stack the gold coins that they can never see.

But no matter how rich and powerful these kings are they are as much at the capricious whim of the gods as their own subjects are to them. They have no control over ancient oracles, they cannot compete against the warnings of dreams and omens. However much they love their wives and children, they cannot save them from the judgement of the gods.

In The Last King of Lydia, Leach has created a figure in Croesus who is timeless. While he is recognisable as the rich king of legend, here we are given a portrait of a man who thinks himself almost a god but learns in the very hardest way that he is as humble as the slave that he has taken for granted. Isocrates, his slave, and Maia, Isocrates’ wife, also learn to know this great king as a man. Status is slowly eroded. Complemented by the stories of other men, such as Cyrus the Persian conqueror, Harpagus the great general, Solon the philosopher and Gyges the son, here is a story in which figures from history are stripped bare, learning to know themselves just as we learn to know them ourselves. It is hugely poignant and at times shocking but always beautifully, lyrically written.

This is a novel of tableaux, scenes from an ancient Greek vase – the king on his pyre, the siege of a great city, the march of an immense army, the glorious towers of Babylon. This ancient world comes alive and yet still feels completely relevant to our own world. The descriptions are so vivid, the language and speech so eloquent, that the characters move in a landscape rich in colour. I know little about this period of history but now I want to learn all I can.

I cannot praise The Last King of Lydia enough, nor urge you enough to read it. I wish that there were more books by Leach that I could read right now but we must wait for the next, a sequel. Without doubt, this is a contender for my novel of the year.

Agent of Rome: The Siege by Nick Brown – and a giveaway!

Publisher: Hodder
Pages: 400
Year: 2011, Pb 2012
Buy: Paperback, Kindle
Source: Bought copy

Review
Today is the day of the publication in paperback of Nick Brown’s Agent of Rome: The Imperial Banner. I cannot praise this book enough. A heart-thumping, adrenalin-dripping, blood-thumping Roman adventure, it takes us back to the AD 270s and the aftermath of the emperor Aurelian’s defeat of the Palmyrans, led by the enigmatic and extremely glamorous Queen Zenobia. Cassius Corbulo, a young and somewhat reluctant agent or spy is given the treacherous mission of finding the stolen Persian imperial banner which is a crucial requirement of any peace settlement between these two great, battle-weary empires. It was never going to be easy and it doesn’t help that Cassius, his ex-gladiator bodyguard Indavara and his servant Simo are distracted by the Christian Problem that Rome was determined to stamp out at the time.

There was only one sensible course of action after reading Book 2 in the series and that was go back and read Book 1: The Siege.

While it is never ideal to read a series in the wrong order, it’s better than not having read it at all. The Imperial Banner presents us with a fully-rounded and fascinating individual for a hero and I was intrigued to see where he came from. In The Siege we see Cassius Corbulo’s first mission as a 19-year-old cornman or agent of Rome. Cast out from his family after an indiscretion, Cassius is sent off to ‘man up’. He arrives in the Syrian desert in 270 AD. Zenobia is still claiming victories, fought for by warriors obsessed by her beauty and charisma. Cassius is ordered to the small, pitifully neglected desert fort of Alauran and is charged with holding it until reinforcements arrive. Palmyran attack is inevitable; the fort is built around a well that the enemy must control to advance. Unfortunately, the fort is manned by the dregs of Caesar’s own legion, the Third, as well as remnants from other legions and Syrian sling shooters. Leaderless, soaked in wine, divided by racism, the fifty legionaries and Syrian auxiliaries are all that stand between the frightened and inexperienced Cassius and certain death. It wouldn’t be a quick death either.

Siege stories, if done well, are almost impossible to put down (I think of Fire in the East by Harry Sidebottom and The Wolf’s Gold by Anthony Riches) and Nick Brown has done an excellent job. But what makes The Siege such a successful novel is the fact that events are allowed to build up at a pace that takes us closer and closer to the edge of our comfy seat. There’s no point depicting the against-all-odds struggle of fifty men against overwhelming odds if we don’t care about those men. Nick Brown makes us care. But when we first meet these men it doesn’t bode well. More than one is ill, most are poorly disciplined, none have been paid. The most dangerous fighter amongst them, an ex-Praetorian of colossal dimensions, is in no fit state to stand up let alone wreak fire and brimstone on a hoard of Palmyrans.

And then there’s Cassius Corbulo, our hero. Unclear of his own status, not knowing how to deal with these men so much older than him, terrified of how he will act when faced with the gory horror of hand-to-hand combat for the first time, this is a very young man who wants to let nobody down but more than anything wants to live to see his mother again. He’ll obey orders almost blindly but incredibly his idealism, so ridiculous as it seems in the situation, inspires these men and when the siege begins you will be desperate for Cassius and his men. So many of them won’t make it. This is a Zulu situation.

The Imperial Banner is more polished as one might expect from a second novel but The Siege is a fine book. It is cleverly paced and the characters are developed very well indeed. Cassius’ new servant Simo is a fascinating individual, even more so when you know how his character develops in The Imperial Banner. Here, we are getting to know him just as Cassius is. This novel is full of individuals whose names we learn and whose fate we care about. The action when it comes is so thrilling but it is also harrowing. There is a realism about it that crosses these two thousand years.

I might have read these two books in the wrong order but I will be reading every one as they come from now on.

Giveaway!
Hodder have very kindly sent me a copy of the new paperback of The Imperial Banner. As you can see, I’ve already read and loved it. I’d therefore like it to go to a good home. If you’d like it (and you live in the UK) please email me at forwinternights@gmail.com and I’ll draw names out of a hat.

Review
Agent of Rome: The Imperial Banner