“Sailing to Sarantium” by Guy Gavriel Kay

Guy Gavriel Kay is perhaps the most famous writer of what I call “historical” fantasy – that is, fantasy fiction set in a world nearly indistinguishable from our historical own with characters and storylines modeled after actual history. In Sailing to Sarantium, he brings a fictional version of 6th-century Byzantium to life in the first book of his two-volume masterpiece, The Sarantine Mosaic.

The story begins with a long but dramatic prologue. When the emperor of Sarantium dies in his sleep without an heir, his likely replacement is murdered in a blaze of Sarantine (Greek) Fire. This event paves the way for the eventual reign of Valerius II, Kay’s version of Justinian the Great. And as one might expect, the events of that fateful evening have repercussions through the end of The Sarantine Mosaic.

The main story begins during Valerius’s reign, two years after Kay’s fictional version of the Nika Riots. Valerius is determined to rebuild the Sanctuary of Jad’s Holy Wisdom (the Hagia Sophia), which burned down during the riots. And he wants the most famous mosaicist in Rhodias (Rome) to decorate what would become his greatest architectural achievement. But unfortunately, the master mosaicist is Martinian of Varena (Ravenna), an older man who is less than thrilled to receive the emperor’s summons. So instead, he sends his younger partner Caius Crispin. The only hitch is that Crispin must pretend to be Martinian.

Crispin is a quick-tempered but brilliant artisan with a flair for swearing that rivals his mastery with mosaics. Crispin is reluctant to leave, still grieving after his wife and two daughters perished during a plague. But Martinian convinces him to go. “Caius,” he says, “you are too young to stop living.”

Shortly after the summons arrives, Crispin is accosted by Gisel, the young and beautiful queen of Bataria (Lombardy). Gisel fears she will be deposed by her rivals and wants Crispin to bring a marriage proposal to the emperor. Her offer would forge an alliance between Rhodias and Sarantium, something the emperor has long desired. The only problem, Crispin realizes, is that the emperor is already married to Empress Alixana, the most powerful and dangerous woman in the known world.

Crispin’s Journey

As he’s leaving for Sarantium, Crispin visits his old friend Zoticus, an alchemist whose house is a menagerie of mechanical talking birds. As Zoticus explains it, he has “learned to make inanimate substance think and speak, and retain a soul.” Zoticus gives Crispan a small mechanical sparrow named Linon to accompany Crispin on his journey. Crispin can hear the bird’s voice in his head and soon discovers that Linon’s tongue is as sharp as Crispin’s. She’s constantly berating the artisan, and their banter adds a truly wonderful aspect to the novel.

Because it’s too late in the season to sail to Sarantium, Crispin is forced to travel there by land through Sauradia, a region modeled after Germania, whose people still cling to their old, pagan religions. Along with Vargos, his hired servant, Crispin finds himself at an Imperial Posting Inn the day before the Day of the Dead, a pagan festival that Zoticus warned him about before leaving for Sauradia.

At the inn, Crispin meets Kasia, a young serving girl, who confesses that the villagers plan to sacrifice her on the Day of the Dead to the god of the oaks. Crispin is determined to save her, and this leads to some of the best scenes in the entire novel. It also ties directly into Linon and sheds light on how Zoticus imbues his mechanical birds with human souls. This part is also the most fantasy-heavy portion of The Sarantine Mosaic, and it adds to the richness of the story.

The aftermath of the events at the inn takes us to the novel’s midpoint, where Crispin finally reaches Sarantium. He gets there with the aid of Carullus, an imperial soldier who’s been sent to find the master mosaicist, Martinius of Varena. Carullus is another colorful character who swears almost as artfully as Crispin. If it sounds like there’s a lot of swearing in this novel, there is. It’s definitely R-rated but tremendously amusing.

Sarantium

Once the story shifts to Sarantium, I was reminded of Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s famous quote about Byzantium: “The most profligate debaucheries, the most abandoned villainies, the most atrocious crimes, plots, murders, and assassinations form the warp and woof of the history of Constantinople.” Kay has taken this quote to heart in the second half of Sailing to Sarantium and throughout its sequel, Lord of Emperors.

Carrying Gisel’s secret message, Crispin soon finds himself summoned to “the most intricate, dangerous court in the world,” where he meets Valerius and Alixana. Aside from Crispin, they are the most fascinating and memorable characters in the two novels. They are joined by the emperor’s general, Leontes, and his beautiful wife, Styliane. She has sponsored a rival mosaicist to decorate the church and happens to be the daughter of the man Valerius had murdered in the prologue. Suffice it to say, Crispin quickly makes enemies and learns first-hand what Rosseau meant when he wrote about Byzantium.

Much of book one is set up for the events in book two, when the story goes from very good to astonishingly great. But Sailing to Sarantium is a worthy beginning to this fantastic tale. And I promise to have more on Lord of Emperors in a future post.

PS – for those who are curious, one of Kay’s inspirations for the novel was a poem by William Butler Yeats titled “Sailing to Byzantium,” which explains the book’s title.