Famous ancient generals are all the rage. We've had movie spectaculars on the fight for Troy, which pitted Achilles against Hector, and on Alexander the Great. Both films followed in the dusty sandals of Russell Crowe's Oscar-winning portrayal of a Roman general in Gladiator.

Even Vin Diesel, the next generation action star, is leaping on the bandwagon. Diesel hopes to play Hannibal - the Carthaginian general who led elephants across the Alps to attack Rome in the third century BC - on the big screen soon.

And if you look right now to Broadway, you find Denzel Washington creating quite a stir starring in Julius Caesar.

Few generals were mightier than Caesar. Or are better remembered. The calendar month of July is named for Caesar. And many of us, thanks to Shakespeare, even know the day of his death - March 15 - from the infamous assassination warning: "Beware the Ides of March."

Which brings us to Emperor: Field of Swords (Delacorte, $35) by Conn Iggulden. The third in a series of novels on the story of Julius Caesar and early Rome by Iggulden, Field of Swords follows Caesar from praetor of Spain up to when he's about to stake his claim on the mighty empire.

Now I'm no huge fan of historical novels, preferring well-researched biographies to flights of fancy. But when I plucked this from the book pile to scan a few pages, I was hooked immediately, like a fat trout in a Neil Waugh fishing column.

Drawn deeply into the legendary world of ancient Rome, I devoured two entire chapters before realizing this was actually part three of a series. By then it made little difference to me; the book easily stands alone on its own merits.

With hardly a false note in description or dialogue (though once or twice Roman legionnaires seemed to speak with a trace of British idiom), the narrative tugs you along firmly.

But it is the author's sheer mastery of scenes of combat - from duelling gladiators to vast, cataclysmic battles - that really propels this tale. Iggulden writes with a keen knowledge of soldiering down through the ranks.

Vivid depictions of ancient warfare, of tactics and strategy, thrust you into the fight. You can hear the heavy stomp stomp stomp of the legionnaires advancing across the field of battle, the clang of swords and the shrieks of the wounded.

And then, after the battle, your hands sweat on the page.

Follow Caesar as he first invades Gaul (modern-day France) and then crosses the English Channel into Britain. As the plot progresses, you'll quickly realize the genius of the yet-to-be emperor for leading men into combat is surpassed only by his ravenous ambition.

In addition to the bloody warfare are the politics of his day, which also happen to be a blood sport. Readers experience the complex, multi-layered world of pre-Imperial Rome in the first century BC through the eyes of Caesar.

Iggulden's fascination with Rome is obvious. So is his research. We get a rich sampling of the food, the wines and the clothing worn. The research included studying the actual writings of Caesar, along with historical accounts of the period.

And I read somewhere recently that Iggulden actually donned battle armour to feel what a soldier would while marching. Nevertheless, because this is a historical novel, it plays a little with historical fact so as not to lose all suspense in the storyline.

And in a note at the conclusion of this novel, Iggulden - a former English teacher in Britain - readily admits to taking a few liberties with recorded history for dramatic purposes. And explains, in several circumstances, where and why.

Oh, by the way Emperor: The Gates of Rome and Emperor: The Death of Kings were the first two books in this trilogy - no doubt soon to be expanded into a quartet.

Meanwhile, in The Field of Swords, you'll meet Crassus and Pompey and a host of other scheming senators jockeying for control of the then most powerful empire in the world.

When not bickering, backstabbing or plotting to usurp each other, the senators are forced to quell the unruly mobs with bread and circuses while the population of Rome appears poised for revolt.

Into this political hornet's nest gingerly steps Caesar, aided by the trusty sword of his blood-brother from childhood, Marcus Brutus (yes, he of et tu, Brutus fame).

Oh, the foreshadowing! Oh, the ironies!

Yet this strained and complicated relationship shared between the two greatly enriches the tale. The swashbuckling and mercurial Brutus even at times manages to outshine Caesar.

Is this relationship true? Were Julius and Brutus close friends from boyhood on up? Was Julius in fact shtupping the mother of Brutus?

How do I hell do I know? I'm no historical scholar of old Rome - and Iggulden ain't saying in his concluding note. But it all makes for a rip-roarin' yarn.

This may be storytelling, but it is great storytelling.

- Erik Floren reviews only books he likes; the books he doesn't like he can never seem to finish.
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