Rus

Ever since learning of my Swedish ancestry, I've been fascinated with the Vikings - the scourge of North lands during the early Middle Ages. A big misconception about the Vikings is that they came over to pillage only England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales. Those were just the raids perpetrated by the Danish and Norwegian Vikings. The Swedes actually chartered their flight plans for a location farther northwest from their home country to Eastern Europe, namely Russia and the Ukraine.

At this point in the grand scale of history, the Swedish Vikings were known as the Varangians, or the Rus. The Rus were well represented well in a personal favorite of mine, The 13th Warrior, a film starring Antonio Banderas in which an Arab comes across a band of Varangian Vikings in his travels along the Volga River in Russia. The film was first found in book form, called The Eaters of Dead by Michael Crichton, which I have heard is the better of the book/film comparison. The Arab and the Vikings, simply called Northmen in the film, travel back to their native Sweden to combat a terrifying force of cavemen/cannibals/bearskin headdress-wearing primitives called the Wendol, pronounced Vendol. The book was inspired by the real-life chronicles of Ahmed Ibn Fadlan, who Antonio Banderas portrays in the film. His observations of a Varagian funeral were recorded and used in both the book and film versions of the story. Fadlan's observations on the funeral even inspired 19th century artist Heinrich Siemiradski to paint Funeral of a Varangian Chieftan, with nearly every element that the Arab described fully represented.

In the 9th century AD, Rurik, a Swedish Viking chieftan who along with his brothers and family and personal bodyguards, sailed to the Russian and Ukranian lands by way of the Volga River and saw to it that the more primitive tribes occupying the area were made to be subservient. Not sure if they referred to themselves as such, but they were known to history as the Rus. The Swedish chieftan founded the Rurik dynasty, the Rus, and his son, Oleg, later moved their capital from Novgorod to Kiev, founding the people and principality of the Kievan Rus. Kiev is undoubtedly the capital of the Ukraine, and the word Rus eventually morphed into the Russians - the people of Rus. Under Rurik and Oleg, the Rus found trade and blood with neighboring tribes and with the powerful Byzantine Empire. They eventually fell under the hefty weight of the Mongols, led by Chinggis Qan and all his subsequent successors.

Before Alexander Nevsky and the Mongols got to the Kievan Rus, the Swedish dynasty had ruled in Eastern Europe for several centuries. There are a lot of Russian and Ukranian people with light blond hair, and seeing as how the Rus came to make their presence felt in that part of the world, it's no wonder. As my university offers no graduate programs in the Classics, I have shifted my higher education toward medieval studies. For some time, I had thought I would make my main area of focus the Byzantine Empire, but my interest in the Vikings has risen significantly now that I know that my ancestors, the Rus, the Varangians, the Swedish Vikings, came over to make their lasting mark on the lands of Eastern Europe.

Rome's Greatest Enemy

                                                                                                            Hannibal Barca

Around spring break of this year, I started reading Michael Curtis Ford's The Last King, a historical novel based on the life and exploits of the famed King of Pontus, Mithridates VI. Ford claims that Mithridates was Roman Republic's greatest enemy, even more formidable than Carthaginian General Hannibal Barca. And he may be right, being that it took three prominant Roman generals to quell the consolidated forces of Mithridates as he sought to vanquish Rome and see his ideals of a "New Greece" to fruition.

The novel is told from the perspective of Mithridates' son, Pharnaces, his narrative spanning throughout the years from a boy tugging on his father's cloak to a grown man commanding the Pontic cavalry. Through his often biased eyes, Mithridates is seen a god of a man with no weaknesses, with a sage-like judgment and a beastly stature. This undoubtedly gets a little old at times, but Ford certainly stays true to Pharnaces' viewpoint, as the son of such a man would see him in the shimmering light of a god. According to the ancient historian Plutarch, Mithridates often referred to himself as Dionysus incarnate, just as Mark Antony did. The Pontic king thought a lot of himself, and when you can rival the massive forces of such a dominant city-state as Rome, why not?

Pharnaces takes us through several years of the exploits of Pontus, from his father's minor skirmishes with the rival city-states of Asia Minor, to his larger scale conflicts with the Roman general's Sulla, Lucullus, and Pompeius Magnus (Pompey the Great). Ford, in the wake of his narrator's incorruptable descriptions of Mithridates, does well to see the great king's forces fall from time to time in his dizzying, spectacular descriptions of epic battles throughout the Greek peninsula. Ford has many weapons in his ancient arsenal, but his go-to is the vivid way in which he describes a battle scene, enabling the reader to hear the clanking of sword to shield and the screams of the multitudes of soldiers falling under them. Pharnaces also remains consistent in his demonizing views of the Romans. In one of the standout passages of the book, Mithridates unleashes his chariots on Sulla's legions, only to have the Roman soldiers quickly see them under their gladii, calling for the Pontics to bring on more of their wheeled secret weapons.

Mithridates claimed Persian blood but was raised in a Hellenistic culture, which is why he sought to see the known world unified under one Grecian banner. For this to be done, Rome had to fall to the wayside - a lofty goal in an ancient world nearly dominated by the whims of the Republic. Every bit as obstinant as Hannibal or Caesar's arch enemy, the Gallic Vercingetorix, Mithridates stood to see the pillars of Rome shake and the foundations of the mighty Republic crack under the might weight of his Grecian gods. As to be expected. he didn't win every battle - but he surely gave the renowned Roman generals all they could handle in one pitched battle after the next, spanning several years in which a steady stream of bad blood flowed for the ancient world to see.

In Ford's novel, the reader is introduced not only to vivid desccriptions of the battlefield, but what it might have been like to count themselves part of the Pontic court, full of mistresses and eunuchs, food tasters and alchemists and carnival sideshows with a staggering wit. His descriptions are colorful, and though I probably would've preferred it done in a manner more fitting for ancient historical figures, his banter is clever and concise. His characters are consistent in their own personal traits, weapons, and demeanors, and all the scenes decribed are carefully researched for a more authentic reading experience.

Of all the authors writing historical fiction these days, I enjoy Ford's work the most, as anyone would be hard-pressed to write a battle scene the way he does. The Last King is the first book of his I have read, but I have two more waiting on the shelf in The Ten Thousand and Gods and Legions. From Roman legions and Roman deserters turned mercenaries, to pompous generals and kings with the lofty goals of carrying on the Hellenistic traditions of Alexander the Great, The Last King does well to delve into the life of a mortal man who thought himself a god, and who was every bit as much to his starry eyed son who took few opportunities to question his father's divine logic in the midst of battle - painted opulently in the gritty hues of dirt, sweat, and blood.