A satisfyingly gritty and complex tale of a noble Roman commander and a valiant Christian woman.
In Cladáin’s historical novel, a Roman general experiences love and betrayal on the far northern frontier.
The second book in the author’s The Iron Between trilogy continues the story of the Roman commander Agricola as he deals with frontier warfare in the immediate wake of Boudica’s failed revolt against Roman rule. Agricola was the hero of the thrilling military climax of the preceding volume, Hammer(2023)—each book is satisfying on its own, although there’s a rewarding sense of momentum in reading them in order. This second installment opens with a scene of domestic rather than foreign violence: the gruesome, chaotic execution of Vitellius in Rome, the third claimant in the city’s “year of the four emperors” that saw rivals executed and Vespasian installed on the throne. Vitellius is barely dead when Agricola (and his adjutant, Quintus) are summoned to an audience with Domitian, Vespasian’s younger son. On his way to this nighttime meeting, Agricola thinks he sees a familiar figure in the mist: Clíodhna, the Celtic woman who was his lover in the aftermath of Boudica’s defeat back in Britannia (the narrative also takes readers into the world of the northern tribes, populated by compelling figures from the rough-hewn Druid priestess Sucaria to Clíodhna herself, a Christian when that belief doubled as a death sentence). He’d assumed Clíodhna had been sent to her death in Rome’s arena, but he can’t pursue her—Domitian’s right-hand man has an urgent assignment for him: He’s to assume command of the disgraced Twentieth Legion and return to Britannia to join the rest of the Roman forces there. Agricola must mete out the harsh punishment of decimation on the legion, and when he’s reunited with Clíodhna, he must pretend she’s his prisoner to save her life—all while contending with his treacherous former commander, Gaius Suetonius Paulinus, erstwhile governor of Britannia.
The author is clearly in his element bringing to life this tense world in which “the gap between living and dying was no more than two hand spans.” The dramatic set piece of this entry is the decimation of the Twentieth Legion, in which one man in every 10 is indiscriminately executed as punishment for the whole; Cladáin is very strong in conveying the brutal military world of ancient Rome (and, on the periphery, the empire’s harsh treatment of the new Jesu religious cult that is gaining momentum), and he very effectively interweaves this element with more personal threads. The relationship between Agricola and his trusted aide Quintus, for instance, grounds both characters and foreshadows the story’s climax. The bond between Clíodhna and Agricola has the greatest impact; she helps him to understand the Celtae in ways no other Roman commander can match, and he treats her with a respect she’s never been given by other Romans. Cladáin evocatively draws a violent world that seems to be at the mercy of the gods: “What they did best,” one character reflects, “be they Roman, of the clans, or even this One True God that Clíodhna followed, was toy with humankind.” The author deftly transforms these elements into a gripping story.
A satisfyingly gritty and complex tale of a noble Roman commander and a valiant Christian woman.
— Kirkus Review
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