The continuation of barbarian Marcus Clodius Ballista’s adventures in Roman Syria of the mid-third century AD does not disappoint. Picking up where Fire in the East dramatically left off, Harry Sidebottom takes his story by the scruff of its neck, hurling Ballista and his faithful familia – grumbling ugly-pug Calgacus, the ever-humping bodyguard Maximus and his youthfully winsome Greek secretary Demetrius – into a series of disasters amid a whirligig of political shenanigans; not to overlook several gruesomely described battles.
Historical Fiction As It Should Be (Dan Brown, please take note)
Once again, Sidebottom weaves fascinating history seamlessly into a driving narrative. In the east, Shapur, Sassanid King of Kings, flexes his military muscle, collecting Roman outposts like a Monopoly player intending to sweep the board. Only the mighty Euphrates protects the imperium – for the time being. In Antioch, the recently arrived emperor Valerian – an ageing, lofty presence, long past his days of vital glory, floats in his palace. The first major scene after the breathless escape from the desert following the fall of Arete sets the tone of discomfort Ballista will face. Imperial bureaucrats frustrate his attempt to reach the emperor and inform of the city’s fall. His cries of ‘the Persians are coming’ fall on deaf ears. It’s soon clear that he was sent to Arete as a fall-guy and that his command was merely a tactic to delay Shapur. When he finally prostrates himself before the august presence, it becomes obvious that Valerian and his cronies never expected the barbarian Dux Ripae to survive – he is, in fact, a political embarrassment.
Ballista’s enemies abound, among them elderly Marcus Fulvius Macrianus, the real power behind the crumbling throne, and his two slimy sons Macrianus the Younger and the superbly malicious Quietus. Then there’s the odious young patrician Marcus Acilius Glabrio, who hates Ballista for leaving behind his brother Gaius to certain death at Persian hands.
There’s Nothing Like a Good Assassination Attempt to Liven Things Up!
Left in a military and political wilderness, Ballista’s life is enlivened by the presence of his wife Julia, the birth of a son (and, later, a second) and a series of near fatal assassination attempts. With so many to choose from, it’s difficult to determine which foe wants the disgraced Dux Ripae dead. However, Ballista has one ally at court, Cledonius the ab Admissionibus, who manoeuvres to get him appointed to command a force sent to relieve Circesium, which the Persians have besieged. Unfortunately, through a series of blindingly unfair circumstances, it is the unworthy Glabrio rather than hard-working Ballista who reaps the emperor’s rewards.
From this point, everything goes downhill. Sent to Ephesus to execute Christians who refuse to recant, Ballista’s every move is observed by the ubiquitous spies. Despite having little time for Christians – they betrayed Arete to Shapur – Ballista finds his job distastefully beneath him. Assassins continue to dog him, and the repulsive Quietus replaces him, in spite of winning a battle against a bunch of voracious pirates. When Valerian finally marches out at the head of his army to wipe the Persian horde from the face of the Earth, Ballista is humiliated by having his friend and former subordinate Turpio placed over him; Ballista rides to war looking after the baggage train, his experience of Sassanid tactics fatefully unregarded.
All the Fun of the Circus … and Charcoal-burning
For those who know the history of this period, the outcome will not surprise. But what a joy it is to have the real but shadowy historical figures fleshed out in such compulsive detail. This may be fiction, but surely it’s the way it should have been? Again, we are treated to lively discourses on a range of topics, from hydraulics to charcoal-burning, the workings of the circus and racing-team factions to early Christian rites and heresies. Neat touches throughout expose Roman superstition amusingly – particularly the several omens that befall the character of Aurelian, one day himself to be emperor, ‘Restorer of the World’.
Social niceties also crop up frequently, underpinning the feeling of reality Sidebottom creates. During one of Ballista’s arguments with his wife, he is called a barbarian. Wisely, he thinks better of responding, preferring instead to console himself with the thought that when Julius Caesar conquered Gaul, Julia’s ancestors were no more than barbarian tribesmen – what 300 years of upward mobility can perform.
The final cataclysmic battle of Edessa resounds from the pages. So often, battle descriptions are confusing, but as a master of Roman military matters, Sidebottom matches Bernard Cornwell in delivering a geographically ordered framework. And as should be the case, the technique hardly shows through; the vibrant, clipped prose ramps up the tension and horror in such a way that everything seems obscured by dust, blood and gloating.
Naturally, Sidebottom leaves us on the cliff edge; damn him.
