Tales of knights in armor, largely sanitized to fit into one’s pulp adventure mindset, have been popular for years. With Edgar Rice Burroughs being a master of the pulp genre, it should be no surprise that The Outlaw of Torn, ERB’s saga of a fierce outlaw during the conflict between Henry III and Simon de Montfort, is such a tale as would have delighted me as a boy and intrigued me even as an adult. Confused identities have been a staple of the chivalry or swordplay novel whether Twain’s parody of The Prince and the Pauper or Aramis’ plan to replace an evil king with his imprisoned identical twin in The Man in the Iron Mask. The visor-guised highwayman king of The Outlaw of Torn has just such a mistaken or secret identity, if you will.
Burroughs doesn’t really try to create historical fiction in the sense that some author’s do, but he captures the spirit, sometimes the mean-spirited aspects, and the system we often call chivalry, but which was actually an unjust feudalism. For example, ERB describes the strict class system of the era in a fascinating description. “What a man did in those rough cruel days might be forgotten and forgiven but the sins of his mother or his grandfather in not being of noble blood, no matter how so wickedly attained, he might never overcome or live down.” (p. 193)
The Outlaw of Torn begins with Henry III insulting some of his most loyal supporters. From that insult grows a tale of vengeance, and just as a desire for vengeance easily turns into bitterness within oneself, it can become a matter of cruelty victimizing those not at fault. The instigator of the vengeance must connive and even betray one that he has victimized to gain his revenge. But even as he gains his desired result, he is betrayed by his own plan. Betrayal begets betrayal, but the cost is high in terms of deaths and justice.
Perhaps, that lack of justice is what causes the protagonist to have a less than positive view of God. On one occasion, he tells a priest that he is as hypocritical as the priest’s congregants: “I be willing to leave it in His hands, which seems to be the way of Christians. When one would shirk a responsibility, or explain an error, lo, one shoulders it upon the Lord.” (p. 196) And in that same discussion, he is quite honest about his lack of a relationship with God: “As I take not the Lord in partnership in my successes it seemeth to me to be but of a mean and poor spirit to saddle my sorrows and perplexities on Him.” (pp. 196-197)
Although I believe The Outlaw of Torn to be more pulp adventure than historical fiction, the swordplay and tropes of the former build quite successfully on the flavor of the latter. The Outlaw of Torn won’t teach you the kind of history you’d glean from Sharon K Penman’s or Edith Pargeter’s (Ellis Peters’) fictional accounts, but it will give you some thrills and delights along the way.