⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ 4/10
Anyone with an interest in Roman history is probably aware of the disaster that befell three legions under Publius Quinctilius Varus in the forests of the Teutoburg Wald. It was one of Rome’s biggest military defeats, and ultimately helped to shape the empire’s policy towards Germania. The architect of that defeat was Arminius, a German prince, who grew up in Rome as a hostage for the good behaviour of his father, and his tribe. He spent his formative years learning the Roman methods of warfare, and was perfectly placed to turn the tables when the time was right.
This book is a fictionalised account of the story, fitting alongside the author’s Vespasian series, and interlocking with it. I have enjoyed Fabbri’s account of the life of Vespasian. It is well told, with a great balance of artistic license around solid history, painting a picture of one of the more intriguing emperors.
This volume is told through the eyes of Arminius’s son – Thumelicatz – about whom virtually nothing is known. He recounts a life as a gladiator, who eventually wins his freedom, and returns to his homeland. Here, he is visited many years later by a small group of Romans – Vespasian and his comrades – who are looking for the last of the lost legionary eagles. This fits in with one of the books in the main series. So far, so neat.
But the style of the book is completely different to that series, and for me, doesn’t work well at all.
We are told that Arminius saved a couple of the Roman victims of the battle as personal slaves, solely to write down his life story. This document Thumelicatz uses to tell the tale to his visitors. But this means that the story is almost third hand by the time we hear it; dictated by Arminius, read to Vespasian, and heard by us. The result is that there is no immediacy, no involvement, no tension. The majority of the book involves those same two slaves – still alive thirty five years later – reading out vast tracts from the scrolls, while Thumelicatz tops and tales each chapter with some extra memory or connection to the present. Occasionally, the Roman visitors are able to add a detail, or a memory, as a way of keeping them involved, and retaining our interest.
Although the story is a competent and believable version of events, it feels distant, impersonal. I’m not sure why the author felt the need to handle it the way he does. There is a mantra that many authors repeat when writing: ‘show, don’t tell’. Although I don’t always agree wholeheartedly with that rule, for me, this whole book was telling me the story, not showing. I never felt involved with any of the characters, and found myself skipping pages later in the book, which is very unusual for me.
Unfortunately, this book has the whiff of a publisher cashing in on success, and persuading the author to write an extra work alongside a main series. I look forward to reading the next volume of Vespasian’s story, but if you are enjoying those books, you can safely leave this one unread. It adds nothing to the main series, and makes little sense as a standalone novel.
This is a review of the Corvus 2017 Kindle edition.
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