Back in 2016,
I reviewed Paul
Doherty's splendid A
Murder in Thebes (1998), originally published as by "Anna
Apostolou," which is one of only two titles in a short-lived series
that began with A Murder in Macedon (1997) and are set during
the rise of Alexander the Great, but Doherty rebooted the series in
the early 2000s – penning three additional titles that are
collectively known as the Telamon Triology. I'll be looking at these
three historical mysteries this month.
There is,
however, one difference this time around: I'm not going to read The
House of Death (2001), The Godless Man (2002) and The
Gates of Hell (2003) back-to-back, but spread them out all over
August. My reason for this is that the first entry in this reboot
showed that this series probably doesn't lend itself to binge
reading. So I'll be interspersing my reading of the Telamon Triology
with some mystery novels that have recently been added to the big
pile.
This triology
(sort of) continues where the previous, two-part series ended and the
events from those earlier novels play a not insignificant role in the
shadows of The House of Death.
Only
difference between the two series is that the detective-characters
from the first two novels, Miriam and Simeon Bartimaeus, were
replaced by a physician, Telamon, who is a childhood friend of
Alexander and they spend their early days together in the Groves of
Mieza – where they were both tutored by no less a figure than the
Greek philosopher, Aristotle. Telamon is a completely fictional
characters, but one who was modeled on an actual historical figure,
Philip the Doctor, who's associated with Alexander.
The House
of Death takes place in the Spring of 334 BC and Alexander the
Great has amassed his troops at Sestos, poised to cross the
Hellespont, which is the crossroads between Greece and Asia, where he
plans to take the sprawling Persian Empire of the King of Kings,
Darius III. And march "to the edge of the world" to "win
the vindication of the gods."
However,
Darius III and Lord Mithra are already plotting the downfall of the
Macedonian upstart. General Memnon of Rhodes, a Greek renegade, has
been attracted by the Persians to fight Alexander III of Macedon,
because they reasoned that "it takes a wolf to fight a wolf,"
but the Persians also have dangerous spy in the Macedonian camp, "Naiphat" – who's murdering people left and right! Particularly
those who are important to Alexander when it comes to entering Asia.
One of
Alexander's scout is found at the foot of a cliff with a winged
dagger, of Celtic origin, sticking out of his body and a scrap of
paper tightly clutched in his dead hand, which had a quote from the
Delphic Oracle scrawled on it. Alexander's father had been
assassinated with a Celtic dagger and, in combination with the
Delphic Oracle, the murderer is obviously aiming at provoking
memories, stirring guilt and playing upon Alexander's superstition.
An attempt strengthened when two of the murders appear to have been
of the impossible variety.
A young
handmaid, a Thessalian, who had been send across the Hellespont by
her people to go to the city of Troy, in order to appease the goddess
Athena, has apparently lost her wits and is brought to Alexander for
questioning, but all he can do is hand her over to his friend,
Telamon – who treats her with a sleeping drought that will allow
her mind and body to rest. And chase out the phantoms. They leave her
"in a closely guarded tent" with "its leather sheets
lashed tightly together," only a ghost could get through that,
but the unknown murderer manages to poison the maiden. This miracle
repeated later in the story when Critias, the map-maker, has his
throat cut in his tent, which was also guarded and tightly lashed
together.
These sealed
tent murders have fairly simple explanations and the throat-cutting
barely qualifies as an impossible crime, but, simple as it may be, I
liked the poisoning-trick. Simple, but workable. Sadly, you can guess
where and when the trickery was done, because the identity of the
murderer is pretty obvious.
I think the
simplistic detective-elements are the only weakness of The House
of Death. Doherty rebooted this series and therefore not only had
to retell Alexander's story, but also had reintroduce a new
series-character, Telamon, who had his own back-story that needed to
be told. A second back-story is that of a secondary-character, named
Cassandra, who Telamon rescued from the slave pens and took her on as
his medical assistance. And then there's the impending battle between
Alexander's forces and Memnon's mercenaries.
The House
of Death is more of a historical thriller with an origin story at
its heart than a proper detective story, but Doherty knows how to
spin a yarn around historical events and the result is an engrossing
historical novel. So now that the introductions are out of the way, I
have good hopes for the last two titles in this series and have read
some good things about the second title. I'll get around that one
after my next read.
So, yes, this
one definitely comes recommended, but only to readers who're already
more than familiar with Doherty's work. Readers who are new to him
might want to look somewhere else first.
On a final,
semi-related note: I seriously suspect A Murder in Thebes and
The House of Death might have been (partially) inspired by
John
Dickson Carr grossly underrated Captain
Cut-Throat (1955). I think we can safely assume that Doherty
is more than aware of Carr's historical (locked room) mysteries and
Captain Cut-Throat would probably appeal to him the most,
because the plot resembles so many of his own historical detective
stories (i.e. an enigmatic murderer going around killing soldiers).
So I can easily imagine he wanted to give his own spin to the bare
bones premise of Captain Cut-Throat.
He and Jecks seem well liked on most of the mystery blogs. Am I the only one who finds their “let's make a stab at the Bulwer-Lytton prize” prose unreadable?
ReplyDeleteWell, Doherty can be a formulaic writer, especially in his long-running series, whose characters can sometimes spout bad or cringy metaphors (something being a boil on this or that), but, on a whole, I find him to be readable enough.
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