A jaunty romp of rape and pillage through the 16th century

The Brethren, by Robert Merle, who died at the age of 95 ten years ago, was originally published in 1977, the first in a sequence of historical novels that sold millions in their native France but have gone untranslated until now. Set in a plague-ridden, conflict-ravaged 16th century, rife with beheadings, hangings, abductions and rape, it’s a visceral yet strangely jaunty chronicle of provincial life after the Reformation.

The title refers to a partnership between war veterans Jean de Siorac and Jean de Sauveterre. One is a libidinous medical graduate, the other a more dour Protestant with a dim view of his pal’s bastard-fathering ways. Together they hang up their swords and use their accumulated plunder to hoover up land in southwest France and build a dynasty. Narrating their efforts is young Pierre de Siorac, whom we follow from the ages of about six to 12, or, in this world, adulthood.

One chapter ends, ‘The gypsies are attacking!’ The mainstay of the novel is swashbuckling action, as the two Jeans are forced to defend their gains and swell their coffers by returning to the battlefield to join in various foreign wars. What stands out is Merle’s eye for detail. Even when it’s boring — pages and pages on castle architecture — there’s a dividend: Pierre notes that while the openings in fort walls are great for pouring hot pitch on invaders, they do make the humidity of a moat a pain if you’re trying to sleep.

Merle uses the first-person narration to elicit sympathy for the protagonist while revealing his blind spots. Much of it seems meant to be read against the grain. ‘Not a summer passes without finding some poor beggar in our orchards,’ says Pierre.