I, Aelric of Richborough, also known as Alaric of Britain and by sundry other names throughout the Greek Empire and in the realms of the Saracens, in this six hundred and eighty-fourth year of our Lord Jesus Christ, and in the second year of the second Pope Leo, and in the twenty-fifth year of the fourth Emperor Constantine, and in my own ninety-fifth year, sit here in the monastery at Jarrow to write the history of my life.
Right here in the introduction is the reason I put this series on my 'to-be-read' list a few years back : not many historical novels deal with the turbulent seventh century when Europe went through some of its darker ages and Saracens and other assorted barbarians were roaming freely. A recent vacation in Rome helped me bring the first installment to the top of the pile.
I confess I went in with high expectations, given my interest in the period and the prologue that borrows heavily from the cookbook of Bernard Cornwell, one of my top historical writers. Unfortunately this early comparison made me pay too much attention to where the book falls short of said expectations and gloss over the real achievements of what is after all a literary debut.
It was through Cicero that I made my first acquaintance with the skeptics and with the great master of all wisdom – Epicurus.
After framing the story as the recollections of a very old man, Aelric begins at the beginning – with his life as a bookish teenager in Britain. Born to a former rich family that fell out of favor with the local king, Aelric gets a good start in his education from a monk then is assigned as assistant to a missionary from Rome to translate and to help convert the local heathen Saxons. After getting caught in the hay with the nubile daughter of a loyal king follower, Aelric and his master Maximin of Ravenna are forced into a hasty departure and they head towards Rome, where Maximin hopes to get assigned new duties from the Imperial Church. Just before reaching the Eternal City, the two friends get embroiled in some shady business by the side of the road and end up with several bags of illicit gold and some dangerous letters.
Most of the plot centers on these stolen letters and on the power play in the peninsula between the Church of Rome, the Emperor in Constantinople, his deputy in Ravenna, the Visigoths controlling the countryside and a couple of other factions from inside the city and from distant African provinces. I really liked the guided tour to a city in ruins that still displays signs of its former glory and I sort of liked that the plot is focused on people rather than on big, scenic battles. There's a lot of political infighting instead, which slows the pace a little, but the writing sometimes rises to the occasion, like in this rather long passage describing an early Church assembly:
I looked at that semicircle of the great sitting still in their formal robes. Some of the faces were ravaged by fanatic penances, others softened by lives of sybaritic luxury. Some were educated men, others could truly boast that they had never opened a single book of pagan learning. But they had an absolutely common purpose. This was the aggrandisment of their Church. They had taken this from those who went before them. They would hand it on to those who followed. You can achieve much in your own lifetime. But this is nothing compared to what can be done in the lifetime of a corporate entity. This never tires and never sleeps and never grows old and feeble. It recovers from mistakes and reverses. Like the waves on Richborough beach, individual follows individual, sometimes pressing forward, sometimes falling back. But the tide comes in with unbroken force. It can, by sheer perseverance, change the manners of whole nations, and can by unending repetition make statements that, considered rationally, are nonsense, gain acceptance even by the wise as self-evident truth.
Such I gathered from my first real encounter with the Imperial Church of Rome.
A series of anachronisms though pulled me out of the story every time I felt like I was getting immersed in the period, which is a pity since most of the research for the book is well done. But I don't think corn was imported from Sicily in the seventh century, or that a Stock Exchange existed at that time that functioned like a modern one ( What he wanted to buy was the right to obtain shares on a future date at a certain price. ) . Nor do I believe a murder inquiry would have been performed according to modern criminal procedure (searching for clues, investigating witnesses. canvassing the neighborhood, etc). Some of the faux-pas and histrionics in dialogue can be assigned to the youth of the hero, believably gullible at that age, others are just a wrong vibe that could be directed at my personal preferences for what is ancient style and what is modern.
I did like Aelric as a protagonist and I intend to continue with the series, giving him a second chance to win me over. Some of the groundwork for this is well established with making him a bit of a bookworm and more of a skeptic in a world of religious intolerance:
But it was now that I conceived my true mission in life. This has not been wealth and sex and pleasure of the bestial kind – though I'll not deny I've managed more than the common share of all these. It is something of which Epicurus himself would have approved. My mission has been to save all that I could of the ancient learning.
also,
But every trickster has his own way of exciting wonder in the gullible. Where miracles are concerned, you need know only the part of how they're produced to dismiss the whole effect as a fraud.
Recommended to history fans with less stringent literary expectations.