By the hammer of Thor, I wish I could go with you! Just think! To breast new horizons, to solve so many enigmas ...”
Welcome to the kinky version of ancient history, in an epic and irreverent presentation by Gary Jennings, author of the Aztec series, of a chronicle of the travels of Marco Polo [Journeyer] and of the Golden Age of itinerant circus shows [Spangle].
The present novel aims at the meteoric rise of a Gothic Empire under Theodoric, covering most of the territory of the Western Roman empire, including Rome, from cca. 470 to 530 A.D.
I knew what to expect from my previous journeys under the guidance of Jennings, but a word of warning is probably needed for readers with a more easily offended temperament: this is not an actual history book, but an adventure epic that plays fast and loose with the available data and that tends to spice things up with a lot of explicit sex scenes, mostly of a ‘deviant’ nature. I will use the fictional translator note of the original text by Saio Thorn for this purpose:
If the remainder, which is to say the bulk, of his chronicle is not outright and incredible invention, it is so scandalously impious, blasphemous, scurrilous and obscene as to offend and disgust any reader who is not a professional historian like myself, well practised in dispassionate objectivity. As a historian, I resolutely decline to judge the worth of any written work according to its moral propriety.
The 1980s, when Gary Jennings published his work, were definitely more liberal minded about sex and alternative lifestyles than today’s polarized society. I’m referencing here mostly the American book market, because I can’t imagine Jennings’ books being banned or burned elsewhere today because he has chosen to make a hermaphrodite his main character.
We meet Thorn for the first time at the age of 12, an innocent orphan boy abandoned at the gate of a monastery in the Jura mountains, near the border of Switzerland, raised by the monks and just about to be raped by his boss in the kitchen. Upon discovery of his feminine genitalia, Thorn is transferred to a nearby abbey for nuns, where he proceeds to seduce or be seduced by one of his sisters.
In this way, we are introduced to the dual nature of this main character, who is somehow able to switch from one gender to the other at will, masking the external aspects of the opposite sex and also being able to switch emotionally between his male and his female personalities. A Mannanavi, in the local Gothic dialect of his period.
The fact that he was abused and then rejected by his peers in both guises as a freak, convinces Thorn that he needs to become self-reliant and merciless, just like the local hawk that he has caught and trained.
– a being uninhibited by conscience, compassion, remorse – a being as implacably amoral as the juika-bloth and every other raptor on this earth.
Teenager Thorn, after he exacts his revenge against the authority figures that abused him, strikes out on his own in the world, on a journey that will take him first westward into Burgundy, later north and east into the barbarian lands, in search of his origins among the different branches of Goths roaming the continent, mostly Visigoths and Ostrogoths.
The beginnings are modest, first alone with his raptor bird, and later under the tutelage of a Roman veteran turned fur trapper named Wyrd.
However extensive may be the cleared and cultivated patches, and however numerous may be their human inhabitants, and however imposing may be their towns and cities, those clearings are but islands in the great primeval sea of trees.
Eventually, after many adventures, both battles and bedroom encounters, Thorn meets a young Theodoric just as he leaves Constantinople to make his own way into the world. The two become friends and Thorn is named a marshal [Saio] of the Ostrogoth kingdom, acting mostly as the king’s master spy and secret agent.
This task is greatly aided by Thorn’s ability to transform at will from male to female, as the situation or his libido demands. It will also take us as readers from the siege of Belgrade in an early episode, to the mouth of the Danube River, to the court of Emperor Zeno in Constantinople, east to Asia Minor, north to the mouth of the Vistula and the islands in the Baltic sea that are considered the birthland of the Goths, west to depose the barbarian emperor Odoacer from Ravenna and establish the greatest Gothic empire on record: events loosely based on the actual biographical reign of Theodoric the Great.
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I used the words ‘loosely based’ in my commentary because I was curious enough about the events and the people described here to read more about the period, especially after Thorn visits territory that is now part of Romania in a period that produced very few actual documents [too many barbarian invasions for scribes to make a living there]
Gary Jennings has a well-deserved reputation for diligent research of his novels, and Raptor is no exception. Indeed, the epic is extremely rich in details from every social strata: from the crazy roll of emperor heads at the end of the Roman civilization [ I have lost count of all the emperors who have ruled Rome or Ravenna in my lifetime. ] to the patchwork of tribes and small kingdoms left behind by the scourge of Attila’s Huns ; from the decadent parties of Roman elites, compared to Satyricon by Petronius, to the street life of impoverished peasants; from the scriptoriums of monks and the works of Latin poets like Terence [ I am a man. Nothing human is alien to me. ] to the barbarian customs of remote tribes of the steppe, brutal Amazons included.
Jennings may be a little pedantic in delivering his research trivia almost ad literam, but these small cultural tidbits are what really make the journey immersive for me. He might occasionally make things up, and insist too much on suspect etymology and on inserting Gothic and Latin phrases in conversation [‘goose-summer cloth’?; although ‘krchma’ is still in use locally as a name for a pub], but I truly felt there was never a dull moment in these almost a thousand pages.
The author’s editorial intervention in the biographical notes on Theodoric comes mostly in the form of white-washing his record, a sort of hero worshipping for what he considered a man ahead of his times in terms of governance and religious tolerance.
“Throughout history, Europeans of different faiths have fought and killed each other for this reason or that. But never until the coming of Christianity did men of our western world fight and kill each other because of their faiths – one seeking to impose his on the other.”
A good part of the novel, right from the start, takes aim at the hypocrisy and the power-grabbing thirst of the two main branches of Christianity : Orthodox in the east and Catholic in the West, to the detriment and persecution of all other beliefs. The period covered here also marks the start of the organized extermination of the Arian ‘heresy’ as defined by the ‘established’ churches. Thorn is amoral and predatory, a freethinker who rejects all religions, but his idol Theodoric is an Arian, like most of the Gothic tribes.
Jennings identifies the crime for which the followers of Arius were punished as their laissez-faire, their complacency in treating all religions as equal in value, instead of claiming the precedence of Christ. I believe there were also some more esoteric interpretations of the nature of the Holy Trinity.
“While we Western Christians rightly regard sin as vice, and its cure as discipline, the insipid Eastern Christians regard sin as ignorance, and its cure as education.”
The virulent attack of organised religion might be even more offputting to certain modern readers that the explicit nature of the sex scenes, but I happen to be interested in the way dogma was established in those early centuries both in ecumenical councils and at the point of a sword. Theodoric’s reign was followed by the rise of Justinian and Theodora in the east, now considered saints by Orthodoxy despite the fact that some of their actions against other factions can be read as genocide.
In the novel, the high point of the reign of Theodoric in Ravenna is marked by his ‘non-possumus’ proclamation regarding religious beliefs, an early example of the separation of church and state in his refusal to recognize Christianity as a state religion and in his insistence that his subjects must be free to follow whatever deity might please them.
There is some support for this thesis of Jennings, but there is also evidence that Theodoric engaged in some form of religious persecution of his own. The author tries to find excuses for his idol’s actions, but the fate of the philosopher Boetius, a luminary at the Gothic court, stands as witness for the prosecution.
The other reason Jennings has chosen Theodoric as the focus of his historical epic is a rather weird form of social Darwinism that presents tribes as victorious or extinct based on their warlike nature. The Goths are seen as fresh blood on the history canvas, the natural conquerors of the decadent Romans, with variations in smaller Eastern tribes introduced as further support for the theory:
In former times, those people were very warlike, but over the ages they were so often defeated and cast down and oppressed that they lost all their bellicosity. Indeed, so far have the Mysians degenerated that now they earn their living chiefly by hiring themselves out to be mourners at funerals. Because of their woeful history and melancholy heritage, they can spontaneously shed copious tears for any defunct stranger.
In an apparent rejection of democratic principles, the Greeks are dismissed here with the observation that ... they degenerated into a nation of jellyfish.
I don’t know how much of this content represents the author’s own opinions, or his reading of this particular historical period. So I will rather end this section with something closer to my own bias, a lesson from the old trapper Wyrd to a younger Thorn:
“Do not put your faith in fables, urchin, whether they are related by a booby or a bishop. Or even by wise old me. Use your own eyes, your own experience, your own reason to determine the truth of things.”
I deliberately left out any comments on the dual nature of Thorn as a functional hermaphrodite [more wishful thinking of Jennings than actual science] partly in order to avoid a flame war online, partly because some of these scenes feel forced and slightly awkward, a well known peculiarity of the author who likes to spice things up in his stories in the most provocative way possible.
I did make note of his take of judicial oversight among the Goths, because it was superimposed with the current scandal about bribes at the US Supreme Court:
His judgement seat was draped with a genuine human skin, flayed from some former judge who had proved corruptible. It may have been done so long ago that the skin was only a worn and tattered rag ... because not many later judges would ignore such a reminder to be always fair and honest.
A fun and informative journey, indeed!