reviewed by John J. Desjarlais

Belisarius: Book I, The First Shall Be Last
by Paolo A. Belzoni
Arx Publishing, 2007
$14.95
ISBN-13: 978-1889758-78-7

Historical fiction set in the distant past has often been used as a platform to comment on contemporary events. Yes, the reader says, that situation was like the one we face today, and the way their heroes dealt with it is the way we must deal with ours.

That’s what begins to happen while reading Belisarius, a sweeping re-creation of the tumultuous world of the early 500s, where the once-mighty Roman Empire has crumbled into a patchwork of barbarian kingdoms in the West and Constantinople is fractured by zealous factions, religious heresies, and the labyrinthine conspiracies of corrupt leaders. Not only does the teetering Empire face new barbarian threats on the frontiers, but Persia—under the scheming and villainous King Cabades—seeks to take advantage of the Romans’ weakness in order to plunder their holdings in Mesopotamia and Syria.

However, a new leader is on the rise: Belisarius, a deeply devout and energetic Christian soldier born of humble stock who will become one of the greatest Roman generals. He will rally the demoralized and undisciplined Romans to repel the pagan powers of the East—and chastely win the beautiful and intelligent Antonina in the process.

Belisarius is a highly idealized hero in this fictionalized biography that covers his early years. He’s a crack archer and well-educated strategist who knows his history and his Bible equally well. He is principled, pious, and constantly perky with good humor and a self-driven whistle-while-you-work attitude. He is part Greek and part Roman, whose father Quintus applauds his fighting spirit and whose mother Anna chides him for his scraps by reminding him of his higher Christian values. He will marry the two—Roman militarism and Christian moralism—in the same way the Romans married Church and state so completely.

This combination of piety and power is applauded through the whole book as necessary in a time of peril from pagan outsiders and disloyal insiders. That is why the book strikes one as a conservative rallying cry to the “Christian West” today, to face the emerging belligerent threats in Mesopotamia—the modern Persia (Iran), in particular—that have already seen at work with smaller attacks, testing our frontiers and mettle. It presents and argues for, in an understated way, a Christian way of war, to be waged by manly men who value purity and patriotism for the sake of preserving Christian civilization. Nobiscum Deus, they cry in battle. So does the book.

Not that the book deliberately carries a political message. On its own terms, it is an ambitious tale, filled with action, spectacle, and intrigues of all kinds, both in the Byzantine courts and Persian palace. It is painstakingly authentic in its historical, military, and religious detail, assiduously researched and replete with facts. Sometimes it can’t resist giving a lesson (though this is why some people read historical novels in the first place).

Belisarius’ piety is strictly orthodox—that is, Catholic—yet this is never overdone in way that would alienate Protestant readers, given the subtle references to ‘presbyters’ rather than priests, or ‘the Theotokos’ rather than the Blessed Mother, for example. The book is, even if often gushing in its admiration for the bouncy Belisarius, an absorbing introduction to the turbulent Justinianic period. It is, to be sure, ‘lad lit,’ given its hearty clap-on-the-back treatment of male camaraderie, especially in battle. The cover gives one the impression that the audience is YA (Young Adult), males especially, and it may well be. Not only is it driven by costumed action and Dune-like plots-within-plots, the novel exalts a youthful leader who is virtuous to a fault, is unfailingly loyal to God and country, who manages setbacks with aplomb, is handy with weapons and gets the pretty girl in the end (we presume—the story continues, and the real history says so). The book continually chastises cowardice and vainglory. Lord knows we need to present our young men with high values and real heroes. Still, one wishes this hero had some faults to overcome, some inner conflict to conquer. He’s almost too good to be true. One certainly hopes that in the following books, Belisarius’ youthful exuberance and dutiful naiveté will deepen to consider the ambiguities of life and to question the relationship of faith to power. There is some foreshadowing of this in his discomfort with his obligation to the swaggering young emperor Justinian.

The true history of Belisarius—as best as we can know it—will become more complicated after the Persians are pacified. Belisarius will be sent by Justinian on a campaign to re-take Italy and North Africa from barbarian kings for Rome, and thereupon be required by Justinian, the monophysite Empress Theodora, and even his increasingly duplicitous wife Antonina to depose the pope and install an approved successor. This will be a delicate subject. More delicate still will be the unfaithfulness of Belisarius’ wife—with members of their own family.

Belisarius has been the subject of several dramas and novels before, dating to the 1700s. There’s even been an opera (Donizetti’s Belisario). There have been a few alternate-history and science fiction treatments as well. Isaac Asimov (a Roman history buff) based the character General Bel Riose, “The Last Great General” of the late Galactic Empire in the Foundation series, on Belisarius. The most notable effort might be Robert Graves’ novel Count Belisarius in 1938, narrated by Eugenius, servant to Belisarius’ wife, painting the general as an honorable man alone in a corrupt world. This latest effort is committed to historical realism coupled to a high moral tone. The battle formation diagrams, world map, and glossary (chiefly of military terms) are helpful; a character list is needed, given the extremely crowded stage. It will be more needed as it gets more crowded and complicated when the next installments come. But what is really needed is for this fictional hero to become more complicated, internally conflicted and complex—if, indeed, he ever was.

Belisarius’ earliest biographer, his secretary (and later enemy) Procopius, portrayed him as a naïve love-blind fool, despite his battlefield brilliance. This book, notwithstanding its overt admiration, comes close to saying the same thing inadvertently.