Judith Lindbergh's Akmaral evokes the uncommon life of a woman warrior from ancient times

Imagine a time, far distant from living memory, when nomadic clans roamed the vast grasslands of central Asia. They derive strength from the animals they rely upon for nourishment and transport, from their devout religious beliefs, and from the tight unity of their clans, in which their training as warriors in defense of their people is deeply engrained from birth. Then imagine that many of these warriors are women, fighting with their clan alongside the men.

This is the world of Judith Lindbergh’s Akmaral, a saga both lyrical and fierce that evokes the spirit of its heroine, a woman of the Sauromatae in the 5th century BCE, who unspools her story as her own life draws to a close. “I do not like battle,” she says. “Only know that a show of strength is required to keep the peace.” The Sauromatae were documented by Herodotus, and may have given rise to the legends of the Amazons.

By the time of her impending death, Akmaral has united many wandering clans into a large confederacy which claimed her as its leader, although she never sought power for herself. Her narrative, rooted in conflict and betrayal, effectively establishes its theme of the struggle for balance amid opposing forces. These tensions play out at different levels: the wars between the Sauromatae and the Scythians and their allies, who conduct raids against peaceful camps; the encroachment of the patriarchy on matriarchal culture; and individuals’ internal battles on whether to conform or rebel. Yet the story also exudes amazing beauty, as shown through its poetic writing and images of the verdant steppes through the seasons.

Akmaral, orphaned as a child, grows up believing, as an exiled older priestess told her parents, that she is destined for greatness. Like all young women, she learns the techniques of fighting on horseback, attracting the enmity and desire of Erzhan, a male warrior. Her aul (clan) takes three enemy captives following a brutal raid, and Akmaral feels drawn to one of them – a silent, fair-haired prisoner called Timor. Her decision to take him as a lover spurs dramatic changes within their society.

These were ruthless times, and Lindbergh shows how the Sauromatian culture makes the continuity of life dependent on violence. This is poignantly personified through the story of Marjan, Akmaral’s friend, a young woman desperately in love who isn’t allowed to take a lover and bear a child until she kills another man. The descriptive passages and insightful characterizations make this a novel to read slowly rather than rush through. And although Akmaral tells a story of war, it’s not a typical one, since it’s layered with the insights of a influential woman with tender vulnerabilities and self-doubts – qualities that ultimately make her story and life all the more heroic.

Akmaral will be published by Regal House on May 7th; thanks to the author's publicist for providing me with a copy.