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Once again getting the reading year off to a good start with another Rosemary Sutcliff book!
I'd picked up the mistaken impression that this one was about Anglo-Saxons—I think because the title reminded me of Rohan? But The Mark of the Horse Lord (1965) is actually set in the second century in the west of Scotland, not a million miles away from where Flight of the Heron is set, in fact. It opens in Corstopitum (now Corbridge in Northumberland, west of Newcastle), where our protagonist Phaedrus, who was born and grew up in slavery, is now a gladiator in the arena. The Roman governor has decided that he's going to have the gladiators fight to the death in pairs for his amusement, and Phaedrus is paired up with his only friend amongst the other gladiators. Nothing happens to intervene in this tragedy; they fight, Phaedrus kills his friend and is rewarded with his freedom. That's the first chapter!
...The actual main plot begins when some mysterious Celts from a northern tribe called the Dalriadain turn up and rescue Phaedrus from a scrape he gets into in his new-found freedom. They explain that the rulership of their tribe was usurped seven years ago by the excellent evil queen Liadhan, who got rid of the old king's young son, Midir, and has ruled the tribe ever since. Now they want to fight back. They can't rally round the real heir—but no one back home has seen Midir in seven years, and Phaedrus just happens to be the spitting image of him...
—between the former charioteer named Phaedrus and the character who comes back after seven years as, er, literally a different man, I can't help thinking there's a bad Mary Renault joke to be made somewhere in here, but never mind—
It's an interesting set-up for a plot, and provides Sutcliff with a lot of opportunity for musings on identity and the nature of kingship, rulership as playing a role, and so on. (She explicitly compares Phaedrus's actions as king of the Dalriadain several times to the 'actor's' skills he developed as a gladiator, which I suppose doubles as an interesting commentary on Roman social roles—it reminded me a little of Wyrd Sisters, in fact). It's also probably the least Roman of the 'Roman' novels I've read so far. Empire, conquest, identity, culture and the various tangles they create are always at least hovering in the background of Sutcliff's Roman Britain stories, but the whole thing here was more developed and far less complimentary about the Romans—they appear as more or less baddies, if not the main villains, while the central conflict is a fight between two groups of 'barbarians' that the Roman-raised Phaedrus comes to see as his own. It was certainly interesting to get such a different perspective—especially in comparison with Frontier Wolf, which involves a lot of the same tensions as seen from the other side.
Parts of this book kind of recalled Sword at Sunset—the leader fighting alongside a band of companions, the plot following the development of their campaigns against the enemies seeking to destroy their people, the fraught arranged marriage that develops into something warmer, the significant appearances of the Little Dark People and the strange, numinous magic. And, of course, the descriptions of the landscape and scenery are all very Sutcliff and as beautiful as ever. Having read seven of her books now, I feel like I'm getting to know some of the little details of description and characterisation that she's especially fond of, and it's fun to see parallels and links between books like this.
What I liked best about this one, however, was the characters and relationships. Phaedrus himself is a fascinating figure, and his development from the kind of bitter, rootless ex-gladiator of the beginning into the role and place of the king of the Dalriadain (which is resolved in an absolutely incredible and heartbreaking way at the end...) is great. I loved Conory, the royal cousin who invents silly fashions for fun, keeps a half-tame wildcat as a pet and has serious hidden depths which Phaedrus quickly learns not to underestimate—I was just disappointed there wasn't more of him at the end. The real Midir himself is pretty fascinating. And the relationships between all three of them, well, there's certainly a lot there... Murna, the daughter of evil queen Liadhan who Phaedrus has to marry to maintain his position, is a brilliantly complex character—I didn't love the arranged marriage plot, but I did like what we saw of her as a person. And the entire background of the Dalriadain, with their complicated kingship rituals and female warriors and tangled history, was great.
Overall, this was a good one—there's a lot to it and I'm still thinking it over, and I think once I have done it'll end up becoming a favourite.
I'd picked up the mistaken impression that this one was about Anglo-Saxons—I think because the title reminded me of Rohan? But The Mark of the Horse Lord (1965) is actually set in the second century in the west of Scotland, not a million miles away from where Flight of the Heron is set, in fact. It opens in Corstopitum (now Corbridge in Northumberland, west of Newcastle), where our protagonist Phaedrus, who was born and grew up in slavery, is now a gladiator in the arena. The Roman governor has decided that he's going to have the gladiators fight to the death in pairs for his amusement, and Phaedrus is paired up with his only friend amongst the other gladiators. Nothing happens to intervene in this tragedy; they fight, Phaedrus kills his friend and is rewarded with his freedom. That's the first chapter!
...The actual main plot begins when some mysterious Celts from a northern tribe called the Dalriadain turn up and rescue Phaedrus from a scrape he gets into in his new-found freedom. They explain that the rulership of their tribe was usurped seven years ago by the excellent evil queen Liadhan, who got rid of the old king's young son, Midir, and has ruled the tribe ever since. Now they want to fight back. They can't rally round the real heir—but no one back home has seen Midir in seven years, and Phaedrus just happens to be the spitting image of him...
It's an interesting set-up for a plot, and provides Sutcliff with a lot of opportunity for musings on identity and the nature of kingship, rulership as playing a role, and so on. (She explicitly compares Phaedrus's actions as king of the Dalriadain several times to the 'actor's' skills he developed as a gladiator, which I suppose doubles as an interesting commentary on Roman social roles—it reminded me a little of Wyrd Sisters, in fact). It's also probably the least Roman of the 'Roman' novels I've read so far. Empire, conquest, identity, culture and the various tangles they create are always at least hovering in the background of Sutcliff's Roman Britain stories, but the whole thing here was more developed and far less complimentary about the Romans—they appear as more or less baddies, if not the main villains, while the central conflict is a fight between two groups of 'barbarians' that the Roman-raised Phaedrus comes to see as his own. It was certainly interesting to get such a different perspective—especially in comparison with Frontier Wolf, which involves a lot of the same tensions as seen from the other side.
Parts of this book kind of recalled Sword at Sunset—the leader fighting alongside a band of companions, the plot following the development of their campaigns against the enemies seeking to destroy their people, the fraught arranged marriage that develops into something warmer, the significant appearances of the Little Dark People and the strange, numinous magic. And, of course, the descriptions of the landscape and scenery are all very Sutcliff and as beautiful as ever. Having read seven of her books now, I feel like I'm getting to know some of the little details of description and characterisation that she's especially fond of, and it's fun to see parallels and links between books like this.
What I liked best about this one, however, was the characters and relationships. Phaedrus himself is a fascinating figure, and his development from the kind of bitter, rootless ex-gladiator of the beginning into the role and place of the king of the Dalriadain (which is resolved in an absolutely incredible and heartbreaking way at the end...) is great. I loved Conory, the royal cousin who invents silly fashions for fun, keeps a half-tame wildcat as a pet and has serious hidden depths which Phaedrus quickly learns not to underestimate—I was just disappointed there wasn't more of him at the end. The real Midir himself is pretty fascinating. And the relationships between all three of them, well, there's certainly a lot there... Murna, the daughter of evil queen Liadhan who Phaedrus has to marry to maintain his position, is a brilliantly complex character—I didn't love the arranged marriage plot, but I did like what we saw of her as a person. And the entire background of the Dalriadain, with their complicated kingship rituals and female warriors and tangled history, was great.
Overall, this was a good one—there's a lot to it and I'm still thinking it over, and I think once I have done it'll end up becoming a favourite.
