During Emperor Trajan’s reign, Rome fought multiple wars against the Dacians, who inhabited what is now Romania. The tribes united under Decebalus posed a constant threat to the empire—just as the Romans did to them. Flavius Ferox, centurion and protagonist of Adrian Goldsworthy’s City of Victory trilogy, takes command of the frontier fort of Piroboridava. If the Dacian armies, preparing for war, decide to march, this fort will be the last line of defense before the provinces.
Through the Eyes of a Historian
Following his Vindolanda novels, Adrian Goldsworthy continues the adventures of his British-born Roman officer, who now finds himself on the empire’s opposite frontier, accompanied by his warrior-queen wife, Claudia Enica. Despite being far from the City and focusing on the relatively low-ranking officers of a minor fort, Goldsworthy still manages to paint a complex picture of how the Roman Empire operated—particularly from a military perspective.
As Flavius Ferox strengthens the fort’s defenses against the looming war, all while dealing with the resentment of the tribal warriors under his command and the rightful anger of his warrior-spirited wife—historian Goldsworthy, too, demonstrates his expertise.
However, if you’ve already prepped for Roman history by devouring classics—say, Colleen McCullough’s brilliant Masters of Rome series—and consider yourself something of an expert, you might still find the sheer volume of Latin terminology overwhelming, from military ranks to soldier slang.
Goldsworthy’s dedication to showcasing his knowledge sometimes comes at the cost of readability.
A Slow Start
The beginning of The Fort takes its time getting off the ground. Goldsworthy introduces too many characters too quickly, making them hard to keep track of—especially since they’re all tied to the barbarian tribes of Rome’s farthest frontiers, which also require some historical context to fully grasp. (Later, it turns out that many of these characters don’t even play much of a role. Some get more attention in the opening chapters than they do in the entire book.)
Another issue is how quickly the author jumps between different point-of-view characters—sometimes after just a paragraph or two. This kind of thing can be quite jarring while reading. Strangely enough, though, this flaw disappears as the book progresses.
What doesn’t improve, however—and continues to make reading harder than necessary—is Goldsworthy’s use of vague pronouns. It’s often unclear who exactly is being referred to, forcing you to backtrack for clarity. These issues suggest a certain lack of experience in novel writing, leading one to suspect that Goldsworthy might just be a better historian than a storyteller.
Luckily, these flaws aren’t so bad that they’ll put you off the book entirely. Especially since the main characters themselves are solid: Ferox is a charismatic leader, and his esteemed wife—the queen of the Brigantes (and a third-generation Roman citizen, no less)—is fiercely independent, untamed, and seductive. In other words, exactly the kind of woman most men go crazy for. Right up until she kicks them in the balls during a lovers’ quarrel. Which, unfortunately, happens to The Fort’s protagonist at one point. (A little restraint might have improved this scene. But maybe the author just considers this kind of thing perfectly normal in his personal life. In that case, our condolences.)
Waiting for the Barbarians
In any book centered around a siege, a proper buildup is to be expected—introducing key players on both sides and setting the stage for the battle ahead. The Fort is no exception. Centurion Ferox travels the region, negotiates, stockpiles supplies, reinforces walls, and rallies morale, while the Dacians kill their time with smaller raids.
Interestingly, the representative character for the Dacian side, Brasus, who clearly appears to be a religious fanatic, stands out quite a bit. But instead of being a ruthless zealot, he feels like a kindhearted, slightly naive guru who accidentally wandered into the ranks of the savage Dacian warriors.
It’s clear Goldsworthy wanted to offer insight into the unique religious culture of the Dacians, but the execution falls flat. Brasus’ scenes mostly feel unnecessary, and he often comes off as unintentionally comical. By his final scene, he manages to make a complete fool of himself. (Then again, isn’t that how things usually go for religious fanatics?)
The real question is: why focus on this well-meaning goofball instead of Decebalus, the great Dacian king? Hm?
Hadrian in the Making
Okay, so Adrian Goldsworthy—and we readers—know that Hadrian will eventually become emperor someday and, presumably in the third book of this series, end up in Britain overseeing major construction projects. (See: Hadrian’s Wall on Wikipedia.) But Hadrian himself shouldn’t know this at the time of The Fort’s events. And yet, he acts like he does.
Goldsworthy makes another misstep here: he gives the senator way too much prominence, portraying him as a master schemer and an unstoppable political puppet master working for the good of the empire. But these scenes often feel completely hollow—because dear Hadrian doesn’t actually have the authority to pull off half the things he’s supposedly orchestrating.
So after a while, you’re just left impatiently waiting for that damn war to start already!
The Fort? Yeah, It’s Definitely Getting Besieged
This is where Goldsworthy does his best work. The siege of the fort is thrilling, packed with unexpected twists and real stakes. The battles are both tactical and, naturally, drenched in blood. For the first time, you genuinely fear for the characters.
As a military historian, Goldsworthy revels in the details, and this is where it pays off. Beyond the close-quarters combat, you get an in-depth look at ancient siege weaponry in action, from scorpions to ballistae.
Character Issues
Of course, all good things come to an end—including the siege. And by this point, it becomes clear that, despite Goldsworthy’s historical expertise, The Fort is more of an adventure novel than a truly high-caliber historical novel. The military action surrounding Piroboridava is undeniably entertaining. But on a character level, problems keep cropping up.
Goldsworthy takes great care in introducing his cast early on. Then, aside from the main characters, he barely does anything with them. And what happens by the end of the book? Nearly all of them are killed off—quickly, almost as an afterthought, often in a single throwaway sentence.
Hadrian, of course, is a different story. The book’s master manipulator one-ups even himself, dragging the ending into absurdity by screwing over our hero, Flavius Ferox, for no real reason—just to make sure Ferox stays silent about something he likely wouldn’t have spoken about anyway.
And as for Brasus? We’ve already covered him. He does an excellent job of taking care of himself.
The final takeaway is obvious: being a great historian doesn’t necessarily mean you can tell a great story. Or write a great novel. Maybe just a decent one.
Rating: 7.3/10
The Fort (City of Victory #1) by Adrian Goldsworthy
400 pages, Hardcover
Published in 2021 by Head of Zeus
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