Henry of the High Rock, by Juliet Dymoke. Book review

Arrow, 1973. ISBN 0-09-907110-X. 318 pages

Set in 1087 to 1100, mainly in England and Normandy, Henry of the High Rock tells the story of the early life of Henry ‘Beauclerc’, third son of William the Conqueror and later Henry I of England. Henry is the central character, and his brothers William Rufus and Robert Curthose are important secondary characters. Many other historical figures appear, including William the Conqueror and his brother Bishop Odo, Archbishop Lanfranc and Archbishop Anselm, various Norman lords, and Eadgyth, daughter of Malcolm Canmore of Scotland and Queen Margaret. Henry’s pages and retainers are fictional.

On the death of William the Conqueror, his eldest son Robert succeeds to the Duchy of Normandy, and his second son William becomes King of England. For the youngest son, Henry, there is no land, only a gift of money. Henry greatly desires lands to rule, but even when he agrees with his brother Robert to exchange a cash loan for part of western Normandy, it is not long before his two brothers combine against him to drive him from his lands. Periodically exiled, penniless and even imprisoned, Henry will find it no small task to survive his brothers’ enmity, let alone to claim what he believes should be his inheritance.

Juliet Dymoke’s books seem to be out of print, which is a pity as I liked this one very much. It covers Henry’s early adulthood from his father’s death to his coronation and marriage to Eadgyth (descended from the English royal family through her mother, St Margaret). The author says in the Author’s Note that the book adheres to the accounts of contemporary chroniclers, and that she invented only two entirely fictitious events. Henry’s dealings with his erratic brothers and the various sudden turns of fortune are dramatic enough to need little embellishment.

What I liked most about Henry of the High Rock was the characterisation. Henry gets an attractive portrayal, as one might expect for the central character and hero. His sense of justice and commitment to the rule of law, which he believes should apply even to powerful barons, is emphasised and contrasted sharply with the prevailing norm. Henry’s brother Robert, nicknamed Curthose for his short legs, is too lazy or ineffectual to keep his barons in check, and destructive anarchy reigns throughout his duchy as scores of local tyrants rampage at will. In England, Henry’s other brother William, nicknamed Rufus for his florid colouring, imposes the destructive tyranny himself. Henry, in contrast, considers that the rights and privileges of lords should not be incompatible with justice, and puts this into practice during his rule in western Normandy. So much so that even when his brothers have invaded his lands and forced him into exile, his reputation for justice gives him the opportunity to make a comeback. This portrayal of Henry is consistent with statements in contemporary chronicles, and with Henry’s later nickname, the ‘Lion of Justice’. Henry’s well-documented faults, notably a string of temporary mistresses and a striking act of arbitrary violence, are included but given a positive gloss; Henry treats his women and his illegitimate children well, and the arbitrary violence is immediately regretted. The portrayal may be rather idealised, but then the novel is told mainly from Henry’s point of view so that is perhaps to be expected. 

Robert Curthose and William Rufus are also vividly portrayed, contrasting with each other as much as with Henry.  Robert is indolent, self-indulgent and easily pushed around, a brilliant soldier – as demonstrated by his performance on crusade – but a hopeless ruler. I couldn’t help seeing echoes of his nephew Stephen, later (disputed) king of England, and wondering if genial ineptitude was an occasional family trait. Rufus, in contrast, has all the strength of will that Robert lacks, but with no check on his power and apparently no conscience, he is erratic, ruthless and cruel. The minor characters are also developed as individuals; for me, the most memorable was Herluin, a minor knight and a loyal follower of Henry, a devout and highly moral man living under a dark shadow.

The charming love story between Henry and Eadgyth is low-key – of necessity, as they probably hardly met before their wedding. Henry at least is open-eyed that it is a political marriage but, as he reflects, ‘how much better if love came too’.

William Rufus is famous for the mysterious circumstances of his death, killed by an arrow whilst hunting in the New Forest – just in time for Henry to claim the royal treasury and then the crown of England before elder brother Robert’s return from crusade. Exactly what happened that day remains unknown, and there are many theories of varying degrees of plausibility. The author has an intriguing solution in Henry of the High Rock, although some inferences are left for the reader to draw, rather than being spelled out.

There is no map, so readers unfamiliar with the geography of England and northern France may like to have an atlas to hand to follow Henry’s journeys. A brief Author’s Note outlines the underlying history and indicates some of the inventions used to fill in gaps.

Henry of the High Rock is the second in a trilogy about the early Norman kings, starting with Of the Ring of Earls and finishing with Lion’s Legacy. I haven’t read either of the others (although on the strength of this one, I will look out for them), and I had no difficulty following Henry of the High Rock, so it can be read as a stand-alone.

Well characterised retelling of the early adulthood of Henry I, from his father’s death to his coronation, set in England and Normandy in the late eleventh century.

Hawk Quest, by Robert Lyndon. Book review

Sphere 2012. ISBN 978-1-84744-497-4. 658 pages.

Hawk Quest is set in 1072 in most of Europe, the North Atlantic, European Russia and Anatolia. All the main characters are fictional.

Vallon, a Frankish outlaw and soldier of fortune, is on his way through the Alps to join the Varangian Guard in Byzantium when he encounters a dying Greek scholar and his assistant, a Sicilian medical student named Hero, who are on their way to England to deliver a ransom demand to the family of a captured Norman knight. After the scholar’s death, Vallon is talked into accompanying Hero to England to deliver the letter.  But the ransom demands a fabulous price, four pure white gyrfalcons, found only in Greenland. Vallon and Hero undertake the impossible quest, each for their own reasons – which have little to do with the captured knight – accompanied by the downtrodden younger step-brother of the captured knight, a German soldier, and an English peasant falconer and his giant dog. Pursuing them and intent on murder is the knight’s elder step-brother, Drogo, who stands to inherit the family estate if the ransom is never delivered. So begins an epic journey to the limits of the known world, from the everlasting ice of Greenland to the ship-destroying Russian rivers and the deserts of Anatolia, a journey on which the travellers find friendship, love, betrayal and heartbreak. Not everyone will reach the end.

Hawk Quest is a classic adventure quest on a grand scale. At over 650 pages, this is a huge book, and the story is big enough to justify the length. The journey itself covers a vast area, from the north of Greenland far beyond the Arctic Circle to Anatolia (modern Turkey). The travellers face just about every imaginable hazard – storm, shipwreck, hunger, cold, marauding Vikings, hostile tribes, cheating merchants, double-crossing officials, bandits, and dangerous wildlife including a polar bear. Not to mention Drogo’s murderous threat, and the perils posed by a beautiful, fiery Icelandic noblewoman, Caitlin, and her violent, selfish brother. Astonishingly for such a long book, the pace never flags and the tale is gripping from end to end.

Part of this is due to the quality of the writing. Lyrical, terse, poignant or humorous as occasion demands, the prose brings the events and landscapes of the journey to vivid life. On occasion I would look up from the book and experience a slight shock on realising that I was not watching an elk in the forests of northern Russia or on a glacier in Greenland. The various obstacles the company have to overcome are explained clearly enough that the reader understands enough to share the experience, so that erecting a ship’s mast or tracking an escaped falcon becomes as thrilling as any battle scene or chase sequence.

The other reason why the book was so compelling was the characterisation, which I thought was outstanding. All the central characters of Vallon’s company are individuals, with their own strengths and weaknesses, their own reasons for joining the expedition, their own hopes and objectives and motivations (sometimes in conflict). All have their own talents and contribute to solving the problems faced by the expedition in their own way. Deep friendships and romantic relationships are forged on the journey.  Even enemies can develop a grudging respect for one another and can co-operate when mutual survival depends on it (even if they promptly revert to type when the immediate danger is over). The variety of individual characters and the interactions between them was the best feature of the novel for me.

Was there anything I didn’t like?  Very little. It took me a while to get into the story, partly because the storytelling in the early chapters has quite a number of flashbacks, which I initially found confusing, and partly because the captured knight’s Norman family and their military retainers all seem so thoroughly unpleasant (Richard, the younger son who joins the expedition, is an exception, but this doesn’t become apparent until much later in the book).  Once the journey gets under way, the book gets into its stride and all these initial problems disappear.  I also found the relationship between Caitlin and Vallon a little puzzling, probably because Caitlin’s thoughts are never shown and Vallon is – understandably, given his history – reluctant to think much about his emotions.

A word of warning: the cover strap-line breathlessly promises “An epic novel of the Norman Conquests”.  ‘Epic’ is entirely justified, but ‘of the Norman Conquests’ is misleading. The Norman conquest of England is at most a minor background event. Readers expecting an adventure involving William, the Battle of Hastings, et al will not find it here.  The title Hawk Quest gives a much more accurate idea of the novel.

A map at the front is invaluable for following the characters on their extraordinary journey. There is no author’s note, just a few comments on the price of gyrfalcons in medieval Europe and the dates of the handful of historical events mentioned in the novel.

Compelling, beautifully written epic quest spanning most of the world known to medieval Europe, with high adventure, convincing characters and a vivid sense of place.

Count Bohemond, by Alfred Duggan. Book review

First published 1964. Edition reviewed: Cassell Military Paperbacks, 2002, ISBN 0-304-36273-5.

Count Bohemond is set in the Eastern Mediterranean and the Near East (roughly the areas of modern Turkey and Syria), and tells the story of the First Crusade in the late eleventh century. All the main characters are historical.

Bohemond is the eldest son of the Norman lord of Apulia in Italy. The family are military adventurers, proud of their descent from a Norman knight who came south with little more than his weapons and a horse and carved out a lordship for himself. From an early age Bohemond looks eastward to the lands of the Byzantine Empire with a covetous eye. When he is set aside in his father’s will in favour of his younger half-brothers, Bohemond’s desire to go east and seek his fortune increases, and the First Crusade offers him his chance. But despite his military ability, he is a comparatively minor knight among many great lords. Can Bohemond lead the quarrelling factions of the Crusade safely through many miles of hostile territory to the Holy Land – and if the enterprise succeeds, how can he ensure he obtains a share of the spoils?

This novel is an excellent introduction to the First Crusade. I knew only a little about it, and Count Bohemond gives a clear and vivid picture of the events and people involved. Not being an expert on the period, I can’t speak for its historical accuracy, except to say that the incidents I looked up have all turned out to be real, which is always a good sign.

Since all the main characters are Frankish or Norman military aristocrats, you might expect them all to be much the same. Far from it. All the main players are deftly drawn as distinct individuals. Godfrey of Bouillon, fair-minded, competent and honourable. Robert of Normandy, brave but as thick as a brick (those familiar with English history will remember that he was done out of his inheritance by his younger brother Henry I; meet him here, and you can understand why). The nice but weak Stephen of Blois, who would have made a good accountant but sadly the profession hadn’t yet been invented. Bohemond’s hot-headed and quixotic nephew Tancred. And Bohemond himself, as wily as the Crusade’s self-interested ally Emperor Alexius, cleverly negotiating his way through a political maze that is every bit as challenging as the military obstacles.

Count Bohemond is written with a light touch and a keen sense of the absurd. It is strong on military tactics and strategy, from the running battles fought with hostile tribes to the great siege of Antioch. The battle scenes are vivid, short and seen from the commander’s perspective; don’t expect pages of blow-by-blow descriptions spattered with blood and guts. A map would have been very useful for following the crusade’s progress through the mountains and deserts of Anatolia and Syria. Unfortunately there isn’t one in the paperback, so it’s well worth having an atlas to hand.

Bohemond is perhaps a little excessively rational and level-headed. He never seems to lose his temper or do something silly on impulse, and the reader always knows what he is thinking but rarely what he is feeling. There are also hardly any women characters (reasonably enough, given the story is essentially a military one), though Bohemond’s stepmother Sigelgaita has a memorable cameo role in the early chapters. Readers looking for a story about human passions and relationships will be better served elsewhere.

Crisp, compact and very readable retelling of the extraordinary enterprise that was the First Crusade.

Has anyone else read it?