THE EXARCH'S SON

In this historical drama, set in the early 7th century, a young man is burdened with a weighty responsibility: to save an embattled Roman Empire from a tyrannical emperor.

Heraclius the Younger grows up under the disciplined but loving tutelage of his father, Heraclius the Elder—an accomplished general who rises to the rank of Magister Militum per Armeniam, the top-ranking officer in Armenia, and then the Exarch of Carthage. By the time Heraclius turns 18, his future is decided: He will follow his father’s lead and become a military man. However, he’s soon compelled to shoulder extraordinary responsibility long before he’s fully prepared to do so, when his family is recruited to join an effort to overthrow the disastrous rule of the “bitter centurion” Phocas, who kills Emperor Mauricius in order to claim the throne for himself. As a result, the Roman Empire’s enemies are emboldened; the Persians who made peace with Mauricius turn bellicose, and the Avars storm the empire’s increasingly vulnerable borders. Heraclius is sent by his father on a “life-or-death mission to rescue Rome,” a dangerous task that the family sees not as a rebellion, but rather as a “restoration” of Rome’s former glory. Storm (From Africanus, 2015, etc.), with magisterial historical command, depicts a bedraggled Rome long after its proudest years, when it was stymied by military failure and the ravages of the Black Plague, and he beautifully captures its loss of confidence, as in this passage: “What is the Empire now that it is no longer young, now that it no longer expands, now that the Legions are no longer endless, now that She is no longer Impervious?” The author says in a prefatory note that he’s “no historian,” but the meticulous research that must have been necessary to produce such an accurate portrait of the era belies such modesty. However, this is a novel and not a historical treatise, and the paucity of known information about Heraclius—the record is riddled with “hyperbole, invention, gaps, and opinion,” according to the author—provides plenty of space for an impressive feat of literary invention. But although Storm’s prose can be dramatically elegant, it can also indulge in melodramatic verbosity, particularly when the subject matter turns romantic: “Now she felt the courage of a tigress when she looked into Heraclius’ eyes because she no longer cared. And she saw the same lightning bolt strike Heraclius as surely as if it had been Neptune’s triton that pierced his heart.” However, the novel as a whole remains gripping, as it’s an intelligent and uncommon blend of masterful history and artistic creation. What makes the book even more tantalizing, however, is that it focuses on a largely neglected period of the Roman Empire—one that’s long after its capital moved to Constantinople, when it suffered a considerable loss in power and influence. Storm acts as a sure-footed guide over this terrain, and an entertaining one, too. 

A historically and fictionally engaging novel that brings little-known era to vivid life.