The culmination of Simon Scarrow’s Revolution series sees things brought to a close in suitably epic style. There are no surprises about the scope of the story: Wellington’s campaigns in Spain, culminating in the invasion of France; Napoleon’s ill-judged invasion of Russia, abdication and return; and to round it off, the bloody Battle of Waterloo, so famously a “damned close-run thing”. This is truly well-trodden ground, both for historians and historical novelists, but Scarrow does a good job of keeping things as fresh and interesting as possible, managing to turn in a surprisingly sympathetic Napoleon during the latter stages.

The French Emperor is reaping the whirlwind in this final volume: opposed by Britain, Austria, Russia and Prussia in varying configurations, as well as bloodily occupying Spain, his apparent addiction to war and his bad faith in respect of previous peace treaties, not least with the Tsar, has led to France being beset on all sides, and it increasingly struggles to raise armies of the kind of size necessary to defend itself and wage the wars conceived by Napoleon. The invasion of Russia, in conjunction with Austria (an enemy forced to come to terms and then bound to Napoleon by marriage), is one of the most famous military disasters of all time, and Scarrow does an excellent job of  showing Napoleon as numbed by the scale of his reverse; at crucial points throughout the novel, it becomes clear that his style of leadership has emasculated his generals, stripping them of their ability to use their initiative and costing Napoleon dearly in the end.

Wellington, meanwhile, despite political interference from the home front, grows in confidence in the Spanish campaign, winning a series of important victories over Napoleon’s Marshals despite the dubious assistance of his Spanish allies. The isolation of command is clearly portrayed, with only Wellington’s aide Somerset being allowed any room to breathe as a supporting character, and Wellington does make mistakes, but crucially he always learns from them. Eagle-eyed readers will spot a cameo appearance by a suspiciously Sharpe-like Major who carries a rifle and answers to the name of Richard, a lovely way to acknowledge Scarrow’s debt to Bernard Cornwell.

Waterloo was always going to be the climax of the series, and I was surprised that it did not occupy more of this book – but actually Scarrow gives it just the right amount of attention. The only battle in which Napoleon faced Wellington, a commander he had derided as “a mere Sepoy general”, and of course we all know the outcome. Given that the storyline mitigates against the building of suspense, The Fields of Death is a fine achievement and a fitting end to a very enjoyable historical series. Scarrow has taken liberties, of course (an off-the-record meeting between Wellington and a defeated Napoleon providing a pleasing symmetry with their imagined meeting in Young Bloods), but, as good historical novelists should be, is true to the sense and spirit of events that ripped apart the Continent of Europe and whose effects are still being felt to this very day. Bravo.

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