The Gardens of Lucullus

The Gardens of Lucullus
Richard L. Tierney & Glenn Rahman
2001, Sidecar Preservation Society
ISBN 0-9711520-0-4

Why hasn't The Gardens of Lucullus received more critical notice? This stirring Roman fantasy is a compelling addition to the Cthulhu Mythos, plausibly veiling the Old Ones in the guise of the cult of Cybele. From sun-drenched gladiatorial arenas to shadowy gardens to the darkest pits of underground cultists, the book grabs and holds the reader's attention in a tale that hearkens back to the classics of H.P. Lovecraft, Clark Ashton Smith, Robert Bloch and Robert E. Howard.

Perhaps the problem is that the book hasn't been clearly marketed as part of the Mythos, a disservice to HPL fans everywhere. Neither the cover nor the sales blurb really tells you what to expect. But although I came to Gardens expecting only Roman swords and sorcery — The Gladiator with magic — I got all that and more.

The opening chapters of The Gardens of Lucullus set Rufus Hibernicus, a gruff veteran gladiator whose mercenary tendencies conflict with his own fundamentally good nature, against the Rome-hating sorcerer Simon of Gitta in a gladiatorial clash of tigers and humans that vividly evokes the thunder of cheering crowds and the smell of sweat and dust. But when a battered and blood-covered Simon is smuggled out of the arena beneath the nose of mad Caesar Tiberius Claudius and his conniving wife Empress Valeria Messalina, at the same time that freed sorcerer Polybius reconstructs the secret to eternal youth, imperial politics and the occult meet head-on. Hibernicus and Simon find themselves teamed up under the patronage of Julia Agrippina the Younger, dead Emperor Caligula's sister, to find out what Valeria Messalina is up to.

It doesn't take long for Hibernicus and Simon to realize that they're not simply embroiled in the usual Roman stew of corrupt politics. When they witness secret rites that reveal the depth of corruption to which the noblest women of Rome have fallen, they realize that much darker forces are at work than mere greed and hatred. Who is Shupnikkurat, and what exactly is going to happen if the empress's Grand Ceremony goes off as planned? Can Hibernicus' gladius and Simon's eclectic magicks possibly be enough to keep the Outer Gods at bay?

The Gardens of Lucullus compares favorably with the best classic pulp swords and sorcery novels — Hibernicus and Simon are a time-honored heroic combination, the former heartily carnal and the latter quietly intellectual, both bound together by their genuine concern for the lives of innocents. The rest of the characters are sketched with bold pulp strokes, from plotting priestesses to debauched noblewomen, from canny politicians to loyal prostitutes.

Yet although the novel is clearly pulp, Tierney and Rahman have scrupulously researched their historical setting. The Rome they describe is convincingly gritty and corrupt, ringing with authenticity from its convoluted politics to its blood-soaked gladiatoral arena to its offhand comments about slavery, architecture, and economics. The gardens of the title existed, as well - the "Horti Luculliani" were indeed coveted by Messalina, who had their owner killed in order to get them. In addition, the authors accurately describe the adoption of Cybele the Magna Mater by Rome, emphasizing the fertility cult's dark side of castrated priests and bull-killing rites and its link to Dagon. Yet for all this, Gardens never slips into boring academic exposition; its historical accuracy is simply a solid and unintrusive foundation for a lively pulp story of blood, betrayal, and dark magic.

The Gardens of Lucullus reads like an old favorite — like one of those pulps you checked out of the library when you were a little kid and read on a hot summer day, happily transported to ancient worlds with larger-than-life heroes while waiting for the ice-cream truck to work its way to your block. Gardens honors pulp fantasy and horror without falling into the trap of strained prose and tired cliches that so many other attempts to revive the genre have slipped into.

If I have any objection to the book, it would be that, while reviving so many other pulp conventions, Gardens also revives the hoary "women's dark magic" theme, suggesting that only powerless and subservient women — such as slaves and prostitutes — can be trusted, while powerful women are by definition corrupt. I guess that's better than the short shrift or blatant sexual exploitation female characters get in so much other pulp fantasy, but it still makes me sigh.

Final word — The Gardens of Lucullus has been ignored too long. Go out and buy a copy, and tell others about it. This overlooked book is ready to take its place on the shelves of pulp fantasy and Cthulhu fans everywhere.

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