Act of Oblivion by Robert Harris

Hutchinson Heinemann | 2022 (1 September) | 480p | Review copy and bought copy | Buy the book

It is 1660 and the restoration of King Charles II leads to one of the greatest manhunts in history – the pursuit of the Regicides. All those who signed the death warrant of Charles I and took part in his execution in 1649 had a price on their head. Even those who had died peacefully in their beds were exhumed and strung up. And any foolish enough to come forward on the promise of an amnesty and forgiveness paid the ultimate price for their misplaced trust. Edward Whalley and his son-in-law William Goffe led forces under Cromwell and flourished. Now they have run almost as far as they can – to New England and the safe houses of republican Boston. But, when regicide hunter Richard Naylor picks up their scent, nowhere is safe, because nothing will stop this man who has his own personal reasons for vengeance. The past can not be forgiven.

Over the years, Robert Harris has become one of my very favourite authors. His novels are incredibly varied and he has a genius for finding mystery and thrills in the most unexpected places, even in the selection of a new pope in Conclave. What an amazing novel that is. He is also the author of my favourite historical novels, Pompeii, and those other fantastic Roman novels about Cicero. He can also turn history on its head, as we saw with The Second Sleep, or go straight to the heart of the matter in real historical events, as in Munich. Now we go back to the 17th century and the repercussions of the execution of a King. Such an act is of such magnitude that it must tear the world apart and only justice can heal the wound. Richard Naylor, the fictional character of the novel, is almost inhuman in his determination, neither good nor evil, but resolute and damaged to his core.

Act of Oblivion follows both stories, that of the hunter and that of the hunted, on both sides of the Atlantic. I found both stories equally fascinating and the detail of  London and Boston, so completely different, as well as other developing settlements in New England, completely absorbing. There is such a sense of new and old, forward and backward. But this is a Robert Harris novel and so nothing is straightforward and it’s not long before the waters are muddied.

There is something truly epic in the efforts of Whalley and Goffe to escape capture, as well as in the stoic endurance suffered by Whalley’s daughter and Goffe’s wife, in her love and the strength that it feeds. On one level, it is a thoroughly exciting adventure, with something of the Wild West about it as Whalley and Goffe hide in the most unlikely places, just a breath away from capture. There are also political discussions – the execution of the King is an act that requires justification to all, including those who did the deed. London and Boston are worlds away from one another and yet, as Harris shows, a cause can be no more noble than the men who fight for it. Adding to the intrigue are the reminiscences of Whalley and Goffe of the extraordinary man who made them, leading to their destruction – Oliver Cromwell.

While the reader can sympathise with and admire Whalley and Goffe for what they must endure, there is also cause for deep loathing. Likewise, Naylor also deserves pity and understanding. He is not a monster of his own making. I loved how caught up I became in these lives. Some of what happens here has passed into American folklore. There are some incredible moments! This is a novel every bit as exciting as you would want from a cat and mouse hunt to the death. It is also brilliantly written by an author who knows exactly where to focus, whatever the period of history, whoever the people involved. Outstanding.

Other reviews
An Officer and a Spy
Dictator
Conclave
Munich
The Second Sleep
V2 

The Swift and the Harrier by Minette Walters

Allen & Unwin | 2021 (4 November) | 512p | review copy | Buy the book

It is 1642 and England is descending into Civil War. The country is divided as are families, even minds, as tradition and religion and long-held loyalties come under attack from brave new ideas. Jayne Swift is the daughter of a gentry family in Dorset but she has long resisted attempts to marry her off and now her parents and brothers are learning to accept her as a physician with a growing reputation for her skill. When Lyme Regis is besieged by a Royalist army, led by one of the King’s nephews, Jayne’s skills are needed by both sides. Jayne’s intention of remaining neutral, being physician to both Royalist and Parliamentarian, is suspected by some and there are claims on her from both sides. One man in particular seems to walk the line between each side, the mysterious William Harrier, who first appears to Jayne as a footman but acts like no servant. This is a war like no other as the prospect of a King’s execution makes all too clear.

I love Minette Walter’s writing and characterisation whatever the genre and I love that she has turned her attention to the English Civil War, one of my favourite periods of history. The Swift family embodies the tragedy of this war, with the very real possibility that father may face son, brother may face brother, on the battlefield. The Swift and the Harrier examines the trauma of this as well as the efforts people, including landowners, made to resist the war and its pillaging, looting, violent soldiers. Effectively, this is a war of three sides. Sometimes all would be calm, when the fight is taken elsewhere, but at other times it literally comes to the door.

Jayne Swift is defiantly neutral whereas William Harrier’s allegiances are, at least initially, unclear. This means that the novel shows us both sides, making a distinction between the cause and those who fought for it. The ways in which an army treats its soldiers is important to Jayne, the physician who must pick up the pieces, and it’s telling that many of the Royalist soldiers are effectively pressganged whereas the Parliamentarian soldiers are well-trained and motivated. Neither side emerges smelling of roses but The Swift and the Harrier made me re-evaluate my own assumptions about the Civil War and it completely altered my point of view. As someone who lives in Oxford, surrounded by reminders of Charles I’s residence in the city, it’s about time that I looked over the city’s walls to the claims of the other side! All of which means that I was thoroughly engrossed in the novel.

A substantial chunk is set during the siege of Lyme Regis and this is enthralling. I know and love the place and it was fascinating to imagine the bombardment and privations of the siege in the town, and the role of the cobb, which I’ve walked along so many times. The descriptions are fantastic and it’s also good to imagine the role that women would have played in the defence of their homes and families. Jayne’s own role as physician is carefully drawn. It feels believable. She works closely alongside male doctors, giving an air of authenticity to her role, but whereas some of them cling to medieval ways, Jayne is all about hygiene and cleanliness.

The main subject of the novel, apart from the war itself, is the  growing relationship between Jayne and the enigmatic William Harrier, who pops up at critical times in the novel. He is a man of many guises but he remains mysterious. As a result, I didn’t particularly warm to him, as I did to Jayne and her brothers, and I did think there was a certain inevitability to this element of the story.

My favourite characters were the novel’s eldest – Lady Alice, Jayne’s father and the Duke, William’s grandfather. The impact of civil war on the older generations is particularly fascinating. Too old to fight, their opinions ignored, their loyalties to the old ways trampled upon, their sons divided, it must have been extraordinarily difficult. Jayne’s father is a good man who struggles to hold his family and home together. His growing pride in his daughter is wonderful. The Duke is a marvellous creation! There is a tenderness in the way that Minette Walters writes these characters. She is also at pains to show that one must look below the surface in judging a person. I did enjoy Cromwell’s cameo appearance!

The Swift and the Harrier is a fine novel, reassessing a period of history that continues to fascinate and has left its mark across the land. It’s beautifully written. It’s brutal at times – the opening chapters contain a horrific scene (don’t let that put you off) – it’s also tense. But there are also quiet and happy times as families go against the mood of the times and come together.

Other reviews
The Last Hours
The Turn of Midnight

The Smallest Man by Frances Quinn

Simon & Schuster | 2021 (7 January) | 384p | Review copy and Bought copy | Buy the book | Listen to the book

It is 1625 and Nat Davy isn’t like other boys. No matter how much he gets his brother to try and stretch his legs and arms he will not grow. Reality hits when Nat visits a circus and sees a tiny woman on display who tells him to run. But it’s too late. When the circus contacts Nat’s father and makes him an offer, Nat is given a year to grow a little bit older before he too will become an exhibit on display. But, before the dreaded day comes, history takes matters into its own hands. The Duke of Buckingham buys the boy as a gift for Charles I’s young bride, Queen Henrietta Maria, and, before he knows it, the terrified and very, very small boy is served up to the Queen in a pie.

Nat Davy is a fictional character based on the figure of Sir Jeffrey Hudson, the Queen’s Dwarf. He is beautifully portrayed and we see the world – at its most poor and then at its wealthiest – through his eyes. And he sees the court from a unique perspective, not least because he becomes the confidant of the young French girl who is now Queen but, at the beginning of her marriage, feels so alone and unloved. Nat and the Queen are caught in the power games of Charles I and his favourite the Duke of Buckingham and, as Nat becomes a man and stays so tiny, he is viewed as more of an oddity than ever. However, over the years, Nat gathers a group of friends around him and, as the novel continues, his size is overshadowed by his stature as a man of the court.

The novel covers the whole of Charles I’s reign and that means that it also covers the Civil War, one of my favourite periods of English history. What makes this particularly unusual is that we view the conflict from the sidelines, as the Queen tries to gather funds and men for the King’s cause. I love how we see the relationship between the King and Queen evolve as they slowly fall in love. We also see how war has impacted the English countryside as people are caught up in a war that they initially think is happening at a distance. Families and friends are divided or they come together, putting relationships above political arguments that don’t interest them. It’s fascinating.

I loved The Smallest Man. It’s beautifully written. There is a love story element that I thought went on a little too long, but I really enjoyed this unusual story. We view all sides of English life through the figure of Nat, who experiences the lows and highs of 17th-century life, including war and exile. He endures real poverty, fear and danger, as well as coping with the sadness of the young Queen. It is a wonderful story, engrossing and full of historical details. I listened to the audiobook, which is stunningly read by Alex Wingfield. His voice truly becomes that of Nat. Nat is a fabulous character, offering an original and vivid perspective on Charles I’s land, court, war and death.

The House of Lamentations by S.G. MacLean

Quercus | 2020 (9 July) | 410p | Review copy | Buy the book

It is 1658 and Cromwell’s England is no longer what it was. Cromwell himself, who lives in palaces as a king in all but name, is rumoured to be dangerously ill while his regime tortures and brutally executes minor royalists for little more than unwise gossip. People are leaving the country, sick at how events have played out. But, while disenchanted Puritans head to the Americas, royalists head eastwards to Bruges where the exiled King Charles II plots with his impoverished court to reclaim his throne. And that is where we find Damian Seeker, a secret agent of Cromwell’s spymaster John Thurloe. Seeker, undercover as a carpenter, has a spy among Charles’s circle and the royalists are determined to identify who it is. Seeker hears word that a woman is being sent to sniff them out. Seeker knows that his identity would also be revealed and his fate would be sealed. But in a city full of English refugees, with both a convent and a brothel a focus for new arrivals, where is this woman to be found? The race is on to be the first to discover her identity.

The enigmatic Damian Seeker is one of my favourite figures in historical fiction and I always look forward to these books. Sadly, The House of Lamentations, the fifth in the series, is the last. This novel brings together the men and women, spies and double agents of the previous books and so, while it is a self-contained story in many ways, I would definitely recommend that you read these five books in order. The fourth novel, The Bear Pit, especially influences events here.

Knowing that The House of Lamentations is the last in the series, I went into the novel with some trepidation. The enigmatic Damian Seeker is one of my favourite figures in historical fiction and I always look forward to these books. I will miss Seeker very much. But history tells us that Cromwell’s Commonwealth didn’t last and that 1658 was a turning point in its demise. This was a dangerous time, of tension, uncertainty and cruelty. All of this is brilliantly captured by S.G. MacLean. The opening chapter leaves us in no doubt as to the brutality and unhappiness of Cromwell’s London and England in 1658. It’s a shocking opening and it feels like a relief when we’re then taken to Bruges and the shabby court of the king in exile.

Bruges is a change of scene for these novels and I really enjoyed discovering the city as it would have been in the mid-17th century. Bruges is in the control of Spain, Jesuit priests walk its streets. The city’s institutions are brought to such vivid life here – its convent, its brothel and its prison, all of which influence events. Then there is the house containing four of Charles’s supporters, not all of whom are as they seem. One of them is someone we got to know well in The Bear Pit. The reader knows this can’t end well. But there are new people to meet here, too, including the extraordinary and resiliently mysterious Sister Janet, an Englishwoman who became a nun in Bruges over fifty years ago. I thoroughly enjoyed the chapters spent in her company. Nobody knows what she’s up to. The Seeker may have met his match. I’ve always liked Lady Anne in these books. There is conflict and chemistry in her relationship with Seeker and, once more, this is one of the highlights of The House of Lamentations.

There is much more to this novel than its tale of spies and plots. There is another story running through it of a young woman with a terribly scarred face. Seeker is driven to find her and learn her story, even though he knows this puts his mission in jeopardy. We, too, are desperate to know. The curious link between the convent and the brothel is also explored so brilliantly as we learn about the choices many women were forced to make. There is an undercurrent to this novel. This is a man’s world in so many ways but the novel draws on all life, male and female, and, with the exception of the tremendous Seeker, my favourite characters are its women.

The House of Lamentations is a fine finale to a superb series set during one of the most fascinating, exciting and dangerous periods in English history. I was fully immersed in its story and its setting, which is brought to life due to all of the historical detail, whether it describes town streets, buildings, clothes, furnishings or people. This is an excellent historical mystery, spy thriller and adventure which is, as always with this series, beautifully told. If you haven’t read these books then now, with the series complete, is the perfect time to do so. You will not be disappointed. I look forward to going wherever this wonderful author next takes us.

Other reviews
The Seeker
The Black Friar
Destroying Angel
The Bear Pit

The Puritan Princess by Miranda Malins

Orion | 2020 (2 April) | 448p | Review copy | Buy the book

It is 1657 and Frances Cromwell’s life is transformed. At eighteen years old, Frances is the youngest child of Oliver Cromwell and his wife Elizabeth. Cromwell has reached the height of his powers and the kingless Commonwealth has never been stronger. Cromwell is the head of the government and now it wants Cromwell to rule the land as Lord Protector or even King. All of the family now lives in royal palaces and castles, they are bowed to, addressed as ‘Highness’ and Cromwell’s daughters have become valuable commodities in the business of state.

The Cromwell children are divided by age. Some are much older. They remember the times before their father’s rise to power and they made marriages of a different kind. The older daughters Bridget and Elizabeth were given leeway in their choice of grooms, their husbands becoming part of the family. But for Frances and her slightly elder sister Mary, there will be none of that. Which makes it all the more difficult when Frances meets the young aristocrat and courtier, Robert Rich. But, as the months pass, Oliver Cromwell faces his own challenges, not least those posed by his own family.

The 1650s is such a fascinating period of history and one of my favourites when it comes to historical fiction. I was really excited to read The Puritan Princess as soon as I heard of it. We all have our conceptions of what Cromwell was like, possibly dictated to us by a certain Richard Harris film or from history retold by the ultimately victorious and vengeful royalists, but this novel turns this upside down. Here is Oliver Cromwell the family man as well as the soldier and, particularly here, statesman. I’ve always been interested in how Cromwell became almost royal, was treated as royalty, and yet he played such a large role in the end of kingship. And here we’re shown a man who loved his family, who liked pleasant and unPuritan things, such as horse riding, plays and music. Above all, he wants what’s best for his children and that does bring him into conflict with them on more than one occasion.

There is some intriguing insight into the political and religious circumstances of the day, such as the resurgence of the Levellers, who divided the country and Cromwell’s family, and put Cromwell in real danger, leading to some exciting moments here. We’re also brought into the world of political intrigue, as important men quibbled over minor points, turning them into impassable mountains. The heart of the novel, though, belongs to Frances and it is more than anything a love story played out against a colourful, fascinating historical backdrop.

I did like Frances, who tries to reconcile herself to this new royal life, wanting to carry out household tasks herself, and not being able to. She and her mother and sisters are a tight group, almost bewildered by what has happened to them. Frances loves deeply but this is not a love that will flow smoothly and so there are upsets along the way and there are moments which are truly upsetting, for Frances and for the reader. I think that my favourite character, though, is Mary, who is prepared to make such a sacrifice so that her younger sister would be happy. Oliver’s admiration for his children, especially Mary, is evident.

Miranda Malins writes very well and there are some wonderful descriptive scenes of life in London during these times. I enjoyed the scenes in which the sisters go hawking, experiencing the privileges of true princesses. History tells us what will happen to Cromwell but it’s so good to see what happened to the other, lesser known members of his family, especially his youngest daughters. This is one of those books which inspired me to do some research afterwards. I love it when historical fiction does that.

Tidelands by Philippa Gregory

Simon & Schuster | 2019 (20 August) | 448p | Review copy | Buy the book

It is Midsummer’s Eve, 1648, in the Sussex tidelands, when Alinor, a descendent of wise women, waits in Fairmile’s graveyard for the ghost of her abusive husband, presumed lost at sea, to appear to declare her free. But it’s not a ghost that she comes across but James, a young priest just arrived from the court of the exiled Queen. Charles I is imprisoned on the Isle of Wight, the Civil War is over. But, whereas this is a cause for relief among the villagers of the tidelands, it’s a matter of grief for the idealist priest and he is here on secret, dangerous business. It’s perilous enough in these Cromwellian days for wise women such as Alinor but James is about to make it a whole lot worse.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from Tidelands. I’ve loved some of Philippa Gregory’s novels very much and struggled with others. This one, set in a different period for the author and largely away from the courts of kings and queens, was a mystery to me when I first opened the pages. It captivated me instantly, right from the opening pages when we first meet the extraordinary Alinor and find ourselves in the tidelands.

Philippa Gregory is to be applauded for her depiction of the tidelands of Sussex and of the daily lives of the people, largely poverty-stricken, who endure it and have to scrape a living from this most inhospitable and yet hauntingly beautiful environment. This is a place of disease, hunger, jealousy and superstition, of mud floors, scraps of clothing, and endless terrible toil in someone else’s fields or out on the water or in the mud. It feels timeless and you can feel it all around you. It pulls you in.

This lovely, descriptive prose is full of historical details about daily life. The scenes describing the harvest are completely engrossing, as women line up to walk the harvested field and glean it clean. Alinor is such a fascinating character. She’s beautiful but quiet, abused but staggeringly strong, both physically and mentally. With two fatherless children to care for and provide for, Alinor has to be strong. And we are astonished to see how her day of toil is divided, with one hard physical job following another.

So the contrast with the priest and his world is immense. Alinor’s brother hates the King. He proudly fought against him and would do so again. The reality of civil war has hit this remote community. But James does not see the King in this way and it’s in James’s company that we’re taken into the captivity of Charles I. It’s easy to feel the fury of the populace for an arrogant man such as this, who caused such blood to be shed. But we also witness him as a figurehead, as God’s annointed. James learns conflict as he finds himself newly rooted in the reality of life in the tidelands, lived on the land, at sea and in the mud.

James is a particularly intriguing character, trying to bridge two worlds, two ideologies. He is most definitely not the romantic hero that you’d expect from the novel’s opening. This is one of the many reasons why I loved this novel. There are surprises but life is also squarely embedded in the mud, in the sea and in the land, not in palaces.

As the book’s description suggests, we’re placed in a society in which suspected witches are discovered, tortured, drowned and killed. I’m pleased to say that this storyline, so overdone now in my opinion, isn’t as prevalent as I’d feared. I wasn’t entirely convinced by the novel’s ending (or Alinor’s daughter’s decisions) but what mattered to me is the journey that takes us to this point – the slow meander through these people’s lives, interspersed with glittering moments in the presence of a delusional king.

I believe that Tidelands is the first of a new series, The Fairmile. This is such good news. If its succeeding novels are half as good as its first then we are in for such a treat.

Other reviews
The Taming of the Queen
Three Sisters, Three Queens
The Last Tudor

The Bear Pit by S.G. MacLean

Quercus | 2019 (11 July) | 416p | Review copy | Buy the book

It is 1656, the war is long over and Oliver Cromwell’s grip on England is tight. But despite Cromwell’s new title of ‘Highness’ and even though he now lives in palaces emptied of their royal owners, his government is all too aware that their Commonwealth could crumble if anything should happen to their Lord Protector. And Charles II’s court in exile knows it. Captain Damian Seeker is back in London on a mission to protect Cromwell from assassins. And he knows that three of them at least are now in London.

But Seeker is preoccupied. He’s holding together his own network of untrustworthy spies, led by his former royalist prisoner Sir Thomas Faithly, when he and Faithly discover the remains of a man, torn apart by a bear. Cromwell has banned bear baiting and had all of the bears killed. One has clearly got away. Faithly tracks the bear, while Seeker goes after the dead man’s identity. It leads him on a perilous journey across London, from its grand houses to its Southwark stews and Lambeth marshes. At its heart lies a man who will stop at nothing to restore the monarchy.

The Bear Pit is the fourth novel in S.G. MacLean’s series featuring that most enigmatic, troubled and flawed of men, Damian Seeker. He is both hero and anti-hero. He is ruled by his code of honour but at times it is prejudiced, while his scarred face and body reminds us of his violent past, in war and in times of peace. He is a killer but he is also now a father and the two fight within him. He serves Cromwell faithfully and is prepared to die for him but we are all too aware that Cromwell may well not deserve this loyalty. We can approve, like Seeker, of some of Cromwell’s new laws, such as those banning bear baiting, and Seeker welcomes the new codes of morality and modesty, but we know, as he must too, that people don’t change. They just go underground. And it’s down there that Seeker must descend.

The plotting is fantastic. It’s a thoroughly engrossing tale of spies and murder, full of surprises and twists as people shift their position in these uncertain times. There’s a host of fascinating characters, some innocent, many not, and they live in a brilliantly described London, with its prisons, dark lanes, inns and bear pits. I love the little details – the descriptions of buildings and clothing, the moments we spend with famous historical figures. And there are people here we care for even though our own loyalties are tested by both sides. This isn’t black and white and demonstrates how divided and damaged England was by those years of royal neglect, war and then the Commonwealth.

The 1650s were such a fascinating and critical period in British history and the Seeker novels bring these years to life with such drama and colour. There’s violence and gore (how could there not be with a bear on the loose?!), there’s passion and tenderness. And there are so many lies. Although this is the fourth novel, The Bear Pit stands alone very well but I do recommend you read them all. Damian Seeker is one of my very favourite figures in historical fiction and historical crime. He lights up the page and demands our attention even when he follows a darker path.

Other reviews
The Seeker
The Black Friar
Destroying Angel

Destroying Angel by S.G. MacLean

Quercus | 2018, Pb 2019 | 416p | Review copy | Buy the book

It is 1655 and Captain Damian Seeker must leave London to conduct Cromwell’s business in the north of England. He is despatched to York to prepare the way for the rule of the Major-Generals with their new stringent anti-Royalist laws. Routine business takes Seeker to the small village of Faithly but he finds a village in turmoil, its priest accused of popery and its leading families united in their hatred of one another. The village is only waiting for the arrival of the trier or judge before their priest is put to trial for his supposed crimes. But while they wait, Seeker attends a dinner at the home of the village’s Commissioner Matthew Pullen, and during the meal a young girl dies an unnatural death. As if all this isn’t enough for Seeker to deal with, the trier then arrives and the ground falls away beneath his feet and it all becomes very personal indeed.

Destroying Angel is the third novel in S.G. MacLean’s fine Seeker series. I have been longing to read this book! The first novel, The Seeker, sealed this series’ place as one of my favourites, and I can’t see any sign of that changing. The Civil War and Commonwealth years are fascinating to me and S.G. MacLean has done a brilliant job of bringing the unhappy Cromwellian era of the 1650s to life. And it doesn’t hurt that Damian Seeker is one of the most enigmatic and charismatic figures in historical fiction. He exerts such a dominating presence in these books. I have most certainly fallen for him.

The Yorkshire setting is brilliantly evoked. It feels distant from London and the events of recent years but those turbulent times have troubled it, just as they have everywhere else. The Parliamentarian cause that fought and won the Civil War is now divided. The Levellers are viewed with great suspicion and are persecuted. Some people are regarded as turncoats, Royalists who switched sides when the outcome seemed certain, while families are split down the middle. And then there’s the near-hysterical hunt for so-called witches. All of this unhappiness affects the small village of Faithly and Captain Seeker is thrown into the midst of it, trying to do the right thing while serving a man hated by many.

I really enjoyed this, especially the first half, with its fine historical detail and moody atmosphere, helped along here with the wonderful location. The countryside and village life form the perfect backdrop. There are so many details of 17th-century daily life and I particularly liked the domestic scenes.

Destroying Angel has a fantastic plot. It’s complex and gripping. I really enjoyed its tangled threads, especially because one is so personal to Seeker. We see a new side to the man here, a caring side, although he does his best to hide it.

Destroying Angel is a crime novel but the mystery element is placed so well within a believable and richly-created historical setting, which is all the more fascinating because it takes place away from the more familiar London. This high quality, deliciously moody series continues to deliver. I long for more.

Other reviews
The Seeker
The Black Friar

Beautiful Star and Other Stories by Andrew Swanston

The Dome Press | 2018 (11 January) | 253p | Review copy | Buy the book

Each of these seven stories has at its heart a real historical character, bringing to life a historical event that affected the lives of everyone who remembered it. Real people, as well as fictional characters, inhabit these tales of extraordinary circumstances and the result is moving and powerful. The collection is also most elegantly written, as you’d expect from Andrew Swanston, and at times the emotion is almost understated as people have to deal with what has happened. No drama is made of it. Life must continue.

The seven stories are mostly drawn from the 17th-19th centuries with the notable exception of ‘The Flying Monk’, which competes for the title of my favourite of the collection. Set in the early years of the 11th century we meet the young monk Eilmer who is determined to prove that a human can fly, once he is able to build his wings. Everyone who meets Eilmer and watches his experiments is inspired by him.

Two other stories take us to sea. In ‘Beautiful Star’, the longest story in the anthology, we find ourselves on the coast of Scotland in 1875. A community is stricken by a devastating storm that catches its fishing fleet at sea. But, as with the other stories, Andrew Swanston doesn’t just show us the impact of the main event, he leads up to it by building up the layers of ordinary but remarkable lives. As a result, their destiny is felt to be even more real and devastating. I carry in my head the image of the wives and daughters carrying their husbands and brothers on their backs to the boats. Superstition forbade men from getting their feet wet ahead of their voyage.

In ‘HMS Association’ we meet Daniel Jones, a man pressed into the navy in 1708 and who must endure war against France as they besiege the town of Toulon. This story might be short but it’s certainly sweet. I would have liked much, much more of this.

Other stories also carry us to war, including ‘The Button Seller and the Drummer Boy’ which goes back to the battle of Waterloo and tells the tale from the perspective of both English and French sides. ‘The Castle’ goes back to an earlier war, the English Civil War, and presents the astonishing story of Lady Mary Bankes, a mother of twelve children, who led the Royalist defence of Corfe Castle in 1645 after the death of her husband. This is incredible and makes me want to revisit Corfe as soon as possible.

In ‘The Tree’ we have another story from the period of the English Civil War, or just after it, as the victorious Parliamentarian forces hunt for the vanquished King Charles II across the land in 1651 following his defeat in Wales. Charles famously hid in an oak tree and that’s the story we’re presented with here and I loved it. This is another of those short but sweet tales.

In ‘A Witch and A Bitch’ we have something a little different. It presents the story of Jane Wenham who was famously tried for witchcraft in 1712. Known as the Witch of Walkern, the troubles of her life are here laid bare, as well as the maliciousness of her accusers, and the kindness of her granddaughter. It’s a moving story and tells us much about attitudes to witchcraft among ordinary men and women, as well as courts and officials, at a time that recoiled from the witch trials of the 17th century.

I loved this collection. It is elegant and full of heart. If I had to have a least favourite it would be ‘The Button Seller and the Drummer Boy’ but that is simply because it draws on a historical period that does little for me, so the fault is mine entirely. But I adored the other six stories and took something from each of them. They also inspired me to find out more about the events that they portray. I haven’t been a big reader of short stories in the past but I do read and appreciate them much more now. And it’s all because of collections like these.

Other reviews and features

The King’s Return

Guest post by Andrew Swanton: Spies and spying in the Civil War

Incendium

‘Writing Cromwell’s London’ – Guest post by Antonia Senior, author of The Tyrant’s Shadow

This week, Corvus published The Tyrant’s Shadow, Antonia Senior’s third novel and the second to be set in the troubled middle years of the 17th century. The Civil War, and Cromwell’s Commonwealth, is one of the most compelling periods in English history (Oxford, where I live, is steeped in Civil War history) and I can’t get enough of it. I am so pleased to be able to host a guest post in which Antonia Senior looks at the challenges an author faces in bringing this period, and its remarkable personalities, back to life – especially Oliver Cromwell. Many thanks to Antonia for taking the time to write such a fascinating piece.

First, here is a little about The Tyrant’s Shadow. A review will follow shortly.

A court without a kingdom, a kingdom without a king…England, 1652: since Charles I’s execution the land has remained untethered, the people longing for change. When Patience Johnson meets preacher Sidrach Simmonds, she believes her destiny is to become his wife and help him spread the Lord’s word. Simmonds sees things quite differently. Patience’s brother Will has been bestowed the job of lawyer to Oliver Cromwell. Tasked with aiding England’s most powerful man, he must try to overcome his grief after the loss of his wife. Then Sam Challoner, Will’s brother-in-law, returns unannounced after years in exile, forcing Will and Patience to question their loyalties: one to a ruler, the other, a spouse. Who do they choose to save? Themselves, their loved ones or their country…

Writing Cromwell’s London

I was raised to hate Oliver Cromwell. Hatred of Cromwell, dark mutterings about Drogheda and a bone-deep affection for the Mountains of Mourne – these the are legacies of an Irish mother. It was a dark day when, steeled with red wine and misplaced bravado, I said to my Mum: “Actually, I don’t think Oliver Cromwell was so bad. In fact, I quite like him.”

Readers, she was not tickled.

I went looking for Cromwell the Monster in the sources when I set out to write The Tyrant’s Shadow. My first book on the period, Treason’s Daughter, followed events from 1640 until the death of Charles 1 in 1649. My second Stuart novel, The Tyrant’s Shadow, is set in London in the mid 1650s – when England’s politicians and soldiers are desperately attempting to find a solution to the King-shaped hole in the constitution.

For me, this is one of the most fascinating moments in all of English history. We were without a King; without a settled constitution. A vacuum of power, and a violently unsettled body-politic. In all my work, I have grappled with the nature of power; how is it earned, exercised and lost. And more pertinently as a novelist, perhaps, why do people want it?

This is no new pre-occupation for a writer. In my novel, my character Will quotes Lucan’s Civil War – a masterpiece study on the men who fought for Rome, written by a poet compromised by his proximity to Nero’s toxic court. “As long as earth supports the sea and air the earth, there will be no loyalty between associates in tyranny and no power will tolerate a partner.’

This is the position in 1653: power is uneasily shared between Cromwell as head of the army, the army itself, and parliament. But the triumvirate is fatally flawed – all three partners want different things; and there is further dissent between army factions and within Parliament. There are two versions of what happened next. Version 1 has King Oliver violently seizing power as the fruition of years of scheming. Version 2 has Saint Oliver reluctantly taking charge to prevent a descent into anarchy and madness.

The answer, I think, is a tangle of the two. And it is these historical tangles that are irresistible to a novelist. In I wriggled, looking for the hints and clues, extrapolating wildly. I found not a monster, but a man who believed himself sincere, who was continually compromised by the exigencies of wielding power. A man who could be both sincere and duplicitous, violent and gentle.

I also found God. Not personally, you understand. There is nothing like a good rummage in the barmy theistic arguments of the seventeenth century to bolster your atheism. But Cromwell cannot be weighed without reference to his great and bombastic belief in God’s providence working through him.

God presents problems to the secular novelist. He is central to understanding the torments of Stuart Britain. It is too easy to be a little sneering of these ardent beliefs – which seem to us to be dancing on the head of a pin. Fighting over the unknowable. I was reminded of 6th century Constantinople – the setting for an earlier, unpublished novel. There were riots on the streets, vicious, bloody affairs whose entire catalyst was over the nature of Christ: was He both God and Human separately and simultaneously, or was He His own divine mesh of the two?

It is easy to mock the sincerity of these beliefs. Hard to understand that for our forefathers who interpreted the bible literally, these were not arcane arguments of the cloister, but questions of faith which could lead to eternal damnation in a flaming hell.

God, I think, is one of the reasons why the English Civil Wars are not a popular era for readers. Publishers find it hard to shift books on the Civil Wars, which is odd given the attractions: a murdered King, families split apart, a high blood count, stories of great courage and great betrayals.

But God muddies the waters. It is not east to know which side you are on. The old adage that the Parliamentarians were Right but Repulsive and the Royalists were Wrong but Romantic is actually pretty fair. Our 21st century souls rejoice in the Parliamentarians’ distrust of tyranny and impulse to freedom, but recoils at the peculiar joylessness of their puritanism.

And of course, the rebels ended up, anyway, with King Noll – a tyrant of sorts. But as tyrants go he was no Robespierre, no Lenin, no Mao. His Shadow was relatively benign. Unless you were an Irish catholic, I can hear my Mother muttering darkly.

Why did Cromwell want power? I did not quite find him – he is too obscured by other people’s views of his motives. I found a man who inspired great loyalty, and devotion. A man who roused fierce hatred. A man who tried – but often failed – to hold the moderate line in a world turned upside down.

Cromwell’s London is a place of subtlety and shadow – and I loved writing it for all the reasons that make the era difficult to sell. It is full of ambiguities. In The Tyrant’s Shadow, there is another Tyrant – a domestic one, rather than a political one. The obverse of tyranny is complicity with it; and I wanted to explore this idea as well. My heroine, Patience, is married to man of certainties who treats her badly. At one point, as he hits her, she thinks: “He will do as he will do. Such is the nature of tyranny. All she can do is find her pride, hiding in peculiar corners.”