The Teller, volume 2, is a continuation of the story of survival in what we call, the Early Iron Age, made all the more desperate by the fact two potentially hostile tribes now occupied the same coveted swathe of territory, actually the rich, rolling farmlands north of the river Severn.
It is a tale related by an itinerant storyteller, returning as promised, 401 BC, to the hilltop tribe avidly waiting to hear more details of trials and escapades of their ancestors. Their quest for vital grain and what was then, the new wonder metal, iron, is told in the same insouciant manner by a man attempting to convey ancient reality, rather than the usual fare of implausible heroes, carnage and gore. Having said that, his tale is not bereft of drama, horror, battles and bloodshed.
As in the first volume, the author has remained true to what is archaeologically known of those times, but to bring the characters alive, has again used a fairly contemporary dialogue, minus anything of a modern nature that would jar or be impossible for a storyteller back then to have known. A surprising amount of what we say without having to think about it, is off limits to someone relating an adventure to a Mid-Iron Age audience. So much of our everyday language is littered with phrases of a religious, naval or sporting origin, or is Latin and French based. The author asks for tolerance, however, for although the latter two influences came way after the time in question, a few words were allowed to slip through to keep the tale flowing.
The Teller is fulfilling a promise to return and relate more of life's details of the heroine Vanya, but of course as the web of what happened is gradually untangled, other family members come to the fore, plus further characters grow to prominence, not least one of a rather unpredictable disposition, holding sway over their lives.
Also, as the tale progresses, the Teller finds himself attracted to a certain lady in the audience, but his pact with those of the nether world, the spirits that had bestowed the gift of the telling, forbade him to actually enter the daily rounds of life, or alter the course of life's flow in any way. To do so would at the very least, rob him of his gift, which to his mind, would be tantamount to being denied the ability to fly.
