Rob Reviews: Brennus: Terror Gallicus

Brennus: Terror Gallicus by C.R. May
Review by Rob Bayliss

Please see below for information about a giveaway copy!

                                 

Over his head is shrieking a lean hag, quickly hopping.

Over the points of weapons and shields.

She is the grey haired Morrigan.

In this brilliantly compelling book, Brennus: Terror Gallicus,  C.R. May takes us back to a time when Rome is but one small city competing with others, both in Italy and around the Mediterranean Sea. But what of Barbaricum to the north?

We are taught from an early age of the glory of Rome; we find its echoes in the modern world all around us. The tactics of its generals are still taught to military students now, its politics studied by those who would aspire to be politicians. It was a literate empire, its generals and emperors obsessed with leaving a legacy to reach beyond the count of their mortal years. Thus we have  records and biographies that are still studied to this day. Scratch beneath our society’s modern, political, veneer and there is the Roman world with all its lusts for wealth and power, its machinations of bread and circuses and its politics of divide and rule.

It is looked upon as the epitome of order; since its fall many is the king or emperor who has tried to unite Europe as Rome once did. Empires come and go, yet Roman architecture and symbolism is more often than not chosen to proclaim their greatness, whether it be Pax Britannica, Pax Americana, Napoleonic laurel leaves or would-be Caesars called kaisers and tsars.

But what drove a city state on the edge of the Greek cultural world to become this template?

Before Rome rose to bestride Europe there was another power, a power that was technologically sophisticated, with an intricate network of trade routes, both within and without. It was an empire, yet not an empire. It was a federation of nations, yet each fiercely independent and sometimes openly bellicose towards each other. From Ireland to Turkey a single culture with similar languages held sway. The Greeks had traded with these people for many years, naming them the Keltoi and noting their love of war and wine.

C.R. May takes us to this world, a world somewhat belittled and denied us by history’s victors, a Europe-wide culture that, unlike Rome, didn't write. It was from Celtica that the Romans copied mail armour, long inter-lockable shields and even the Gallic helmet which seems now so typically Roman. It was by the Celts that Rome received its first real taste of defeat that almost extinguished it. Perhaps this is why, of all peoples, it was the Celts that Rome seemed to wish to subdue and defeat more than all others.

It is the 4^th century B.C. and this is the Celtica of legend, a society of heroes, warriors and druids. Where gods and goddesses are embodied in the earth and the sky, where kings willingly sacrifice themselves to be at one with the goddess of the earth and ensure her blessings upon the tribe. As is the custom children are sent to be fostered with other tribes to learn the ways of others; so it is that Solemis, a young warrior of the Gaulish Senone tribe, finds himself in the land of the Trinobante tribe in Albion. While he is there he swears blood brotherhood to Catumanda, a trainee female druid who has the questionable gift of prophetic dreams, and Albiomaros who becomes his most trusted friend.

Years have passed and Catumanda, troubled by dreams, has completed her training while Albiomarus has accompanied Solemis back to the lands of the Senones. These are turbulent times; to ensure that the lands are not stripped of their fertility by overpopulation, a tribe has been chosen to migrate out of Celtica and settle new lands beyond the Alps. Thus it is that Catubaros, chieftain of the Senones, willingly sacrifices himself to seek approval from Sequana, the goddess river Seine, for this enterprise as the tribe prepares to migrate en masse.

Engineering a coup and the mysterious disappearance of Catubaros' son,  the great Senone warrior Brennus is elected as chieftain. Brennus has a vision to carve his people a land, and unlike the deposed son of Catubaros has the military prowess to succeed as they will invade the territory of the Etruscan city states of northern Italy.

But other forces are at work here, families eager for the betterment of their house and city playing faction against faction. To these factions the Gauls are just ignorant barbarians, but they underestimate Brennus and his clan chiefs such as Solemis at their peril. 

Mr. May's attention to detail in descriptions of landscapes, down to seasonal plants, transports the reader into the world he weaves. In some quite beautiful passages you can smell the heady scents, hear the buzzing of insects and be dazzled by the reflected sunlight on the fen waters. The dialogue is realistic, effortlessly weaving in Celtic words and quite cynical at times, as in the passage when Connos teaches his son, Solemis, a lesson in politics.

"I arrived too late to hear the beginning of the fun. Tell me; who proposed that Brennus should become war leader, just until Maros returns?"

Solemis cast his mind back.

"Crixos."

Connos snorted and stared straight ahead. His warriors were just leading the families of the clan safely out on to the plain. Albiomaros saw Solemis and Connos and waved happily from the flank. Solemis was about to return the gesture when his father asked another question.

"And who was closest to Brennus when he went to have his acclamation approved by Devorix?"
Solemis' cheeks flushed as he realised he had been as easily manipulated as the others. He sighed but answered truthfully.

"Crixos."
At his side Connos hawked and spat.

"As I said. Men are sheep."

I thoroughly enjoyed this book; the author paints such a vivid picture of Celtic society and their beliefs that I just got swept away in it. It mainly alternates between two story lines: the battles and migration of the Senones with Solemis and Albiomarus, and also the journey undertaken by Catumunda across Albion--both spiritual and physical. The description of her journey across a familiar yet ancient landscape was enthralling and equally as exciting as Solemis’ story-line, and his growing reputation as a warrior and clan chief. The author was able to describe the fantastical magic of druidic practices, its visions and portents, and yet make them appear wholly believable.

All men, but perhaps warriors in particular knew to fear the appearance of the Morrigan. Accompanied by her sisters Madness and Violence, the shape shifting goddesses often took the form of three huge crows, soaring over the battlefield as they waited to convey the souls of the dead to the Underworld.

The dreams lead Catumunda on beyond the shores of Albion; they indicate she will see her blood brothers, Solemis and Albiomarus, again. Meanwhile, as trusted warriors of Brennus, they have a score to settle and Woe to the conquered.

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C.R. May has so graciously offered a FREE COPY of Brennus: Terror Gallicus for one lucky winner. To get your name in the draw, simply comment below OR at this review's Facebook thread, located here.

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About the Author

C.R. May was born in Bow, East London before his family moved to South Ockendon, Essex. After hearing that Ockendon translated as Wocca's Hill in Saxon, a lifelong passion in history was kindled, which has taken him from Berlin to the site of the battle of Little Big Horn (via Erik the Red's Icelandic hall!). The influx of Germanic adventurers was recorded in the place names around him and, inspired one day, he decided to weave his own stories into this history. You can read and discover more information at his blog and the author may be found at Facebook. 

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Rob Bayliss is a reviewer at The Review and is currently writing his own fantasy series. Information on his writing projects can be found at Flint & Steel, Fire & Shadow.

Lisl reviews The Dragon's Harp by Rachael Pruitt

Era of Dragons: The Lost Tales of Gwenhwyfar

Book One: The Dragon’s Harp

By Rachael Pruitt

Please see below for giveaway details!

Growing up, Arthurian legends were practically part of who I was, having been told them at my mother’s knees; later she began to expose me to written accounts, which I greedily consumed. I’ve lost track of how many or even which versions of the various tales I have read, but one thing is certain: there wasn’t much heard from the perspective of one very central character: Guinevere. So it was with great interest I learned of Rachael Pruitt’s novel of Gwenhwyfar—the Welsh spelling of this queen’s given name—where she came from and what made her the person she became.

It is fitting that Pruitt opens the novel not only from Gwenhwyfar’s point of view, but also beginning in the twilight of her life, when she has much to look back upon: this is no naïve girl telling her story as it begins and moves forward, but rather a mature woman utilizing hindsight and the wisdom gained over many years to simultaneously examine her own (and others’) behavior. Now, however, her husband murdered and children gone, Gwenhwyfar shares a moment on the sands with a gull, an encounter reminiscent of the many cultures, such as hers, in which the spiritual wisdom of animals is revered and incorporated into tradition and cultural habit.

Born into fifth century Wales, the young Gwenhwyfar, presented to us by her older self, is at this time eight “sunturns”; she reveres her parents but still recognizes the divisions existing between them as her mother has embraced the new religion. Occasionally Ceridwen acts upon outrages from her new perspective, her own mother somewhat of a go-between in the moments when she oversteps her bounds.

Gwenhwyfar has known war her entire life, and though she still retains some of the innocence of youth, her perspective clearly incorporates the reality set around her:

I tiptoed, even though there was no one to hear me, only the oppressive stillness of damp watching stone, its grey gloom penetrated by a faint haze of light from arrow slits rock-cut at each outward turning of the stairs. The worn steps felt like carved bowls beneath my summer-bare feet.

Nevertheless, Gwenhwyfar is, as she reminds herself, a Battle Chief’s daughter, “not to be bested by shadows.” So it is she wills herself to investigate mysteries that present themselves to her, including by listening in on conversations, one scene drawing me back to Stewart’s Merlin crawling through the unused furnace to eavesdrop on conversations in the palace rooms above him. Gwenhwyfar has inherited her father’s tough stance, even if she does on occasion duck behind her mother’s skirts.

Remains of the keep at Dinas Emrys

As the young girl comes of age at Dinas Emyrs, she certainly faces her share of trials, told to us in language filled to the wondrous brim with poetry and magic. Pruitt’s sentences are so fluid readers not only move from one scene to another many pages away without realizing how far they’d travelled, but also do so as part of the story itself, indeed, as part of their surroundings. “I dug into my soul,” Gwenhwyfar confides, “resisting his pull, as if I were digging my toes into sand so as not to get swept out with the tide.”

This, indeed, is how both author and protagonist set it out: the latter by commencing her story at a fireside to a young girl, the former with a “storytelling hearth” aura, the flickers of which can periodically be felt as the pages turn. While the mark of a great “wayback” story tends to be that readers are so immersed in it they forget it is being told from an older or other vantage point—while that is a strength, Pruitt manages to defy the dichotomous nature of that method and still keep us mesmerized within the flow of the tale: Gwen’s metaphorical digging in of her toes is reminiscent of the beach she surveys before she begins her story, and the gull who gifts her a shell, a raven who leaves a feather.

Readers are drawn into the events, warlike and magical—and the two are not always exclusive of one another. Indeed “magic and bloodshed went hand in hand,” as Gwen discovers at a turning point in which her whole world changes in a way that even death had not done. Merlin, her uncle in this telling, reminds her that greatness is typically found in the midst of ordinariness. The merging of elements with dual nature is a theme carried through the story within personalities, relationships, worship, beauty, even to the outcome of how it affects those involved: to their benefit or detriment. The “soft breath of dawn” might awaken to a cruel day; the presence of one with evil in her heart might walk through a night in which “the stars themselves grew tired.” Even the novel’s cover might speak to naked brutality or beauty, most likely both.

There is violence portrayed in The Dragon’s Harp; truth be told, it could not be any other way. Gwenhwyfar’s sixth-century Wales was a violent place where vacuums never existed for very long, a condition which surely also must have influenced the girl to grow into the woman, queen and wife she later became. It was exceedingly breathtaking a tale, a glimpse of sorts, into a world and time of her life many previous storytellers have skipped or ignored in terms of its influence on later history, as if Gwenhwyfar didn’t exist until she became a queen.

Fans of Merlin will also find a treasure within, as the mage appears, as mentioned earlier, as Gwenhwyfar’s uncle and, later, tutor. A seminal moment, one those familiar with the legends will recognize, involves Merlin as pertains to his meeting with Vortigern, who tradition says demanded the blood of a youth without a father to be sprinkled upon the foundations of his constantly collapsing fortress. The boy Merlin is dragged off to be sacrificed, but instead tells the engineers of a pool beneath the foundation, within which two dragons, one red and the other white, nightly battle it out, thus causing the destruction.

Pruitt’s telling is rather different and the duel between red dragon and, in this case white serpent, is not instigated by a superstitious and desperate king, though a young person in peril is present. The author stays true to the legend, however, and her imagery is punctuated by thunderous music from the skies as magic and community work together to ensure the defeat of red over white, leading to Merlin foretelling the freeing of this sacred land from their enemies and the coming of Arthur.

There are trying times ahead in the novel for Gwenhwyfar and Pruitt’s insight into the girl’s character as well as her times indicates a studied approach to an era in which magic reigned, as well as love and respect for those who lived within it. The detail of characters and perspective is impressive, and it is difficult to overstate Pruitt’s mastery with words, the more so given it is of a world that has all but disappeared to those of the modern world. Rachael Pruitt brings it back for us, a gift from our past sweeping us through time to reach the telling. Along the way readers will find this book exceedingly difficult to put down, and late nights are surely in the stars.

Fortunately for us, Pruitt has plans for four more installments in the Era of Dragons: The Lost Tales of Gwenhwyfar series, the title of which perhaps will lead us to clues as to how the tales finally, thankfully, come back us after so long.

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Rachel Pruitt is a creative writing teacher with a lifelong fascination with the Arthurian legends. Visit her fantastic website and look for the sequel to Gwenhwyfar’s story, The Dragon’s Breath, which she is currently hard at work on. She can also be reached at her Facebook author page as well as Twitter.

Rachel is also currently giving away one autographed copy of The Dragon's Harp to one lucky winner. To enter to win, simply comment below. Facebook users may also comment here. 

If you would like Lisl to review your book or conduct an interview (or both), please see our submissions tab above.