“Well, lass,” said Christopher, “tonight will tell us much.”
He smiled at her, his grey eyes clear as ever. His arms were permanently bared to the shoulder now, exposing the silver spirals of the tribal bracelets that he wore in place of his own. With his long, loose hair and his borrowed, pale-green cloak, Wynter thought he looked very much the Merron, despite his relative lack of height.
“You look entirely at home,” she said, and even to herself, her tone was hard to fathom.
The smile slid from Christopher’s eyes, and Wynter instantly regretted its loss; it had been too long gone as it was. He straightened from his easy slouch, his hand shot to the bracelet at the top of his left arm, and he glanced uncertainly around.
“I …” he said. “Iseult. I ain’t taken sides against …”
“Oh, Chris, stop!” She held up her hand, disgusted with herself. “I’m sorry.”
She looked across the clearing to where Razi was speaking to Úlfnaor and ran her hand across her mouth. Christopher stood in silent discomfort by her side.
“I am sorry,” she said again. “It is just, Razi changes his coat and shaves his face, and he is once again my Lord Razi. You,” she gestured to Christopher’s clothes. “You are once again a Merron. To tell the truth, I am envious, Christopher. I have no such armour, and the thought of riding into Albi’s camp, naught but a ragged woman in dusty clothes, makes me feel vulnerable and alone.”
Christopher held her gaze, searching. He lifted a hand to touch the heavy coil of hair pinned to her head. “Let loose your hair, Iseult, roll your sleeves to the shoulder.” Solemnly, he ran his thumb across her cheekbone. “I will give you one of my bracelets, and, as my croí-eile, none would challenge your right to wear it.”
Wynter closed her eyes and leant for a moment into his touch. Then she straightened. “Thank you,” she said. “But those things would be nothing more than a disguise, Christopher. I am not Merron, and I never will be.”
There was a moment of shock in Christopher’s face, and Wynter firmly held his gaze, her chin lifting. Then his expression hardened into acceptance and he nodded.
“You are Iseult Moorehawke,” he said grimly. “The Protector Lady. You need no armour to make you thus.” He reached behind her and handed her the reins of her horse. “Mount up, Protector Lady, and let us go.”
He walked from her, his pale cloak swinging behind him, and Wynter turned away before he had even reached his horse. Once mounted, she breathed deeply and took a moment to survey the men and women around her. Then she sat straighter and schooled her features into the aloof detachment of her courtly mask.
I am the Protector Lady, she thought. I have work to do. She clucked Ozkar around and kicked forward.
When she came to a halt at Razi’s side, Úlfnaor glanced absently her way. His eyes went to slide past, but almost immediately he frowned and looked back at her. Wynter held his eye without expression. For a moment, the Merron leader searched her face, uncertain. Then he bowed, dipping his head low so that his long hair fell forward over his shoulders. Wynter saw the shock in his people’s faces and they stared up at her, their eyes wide. She surveyed them without a change of expression.
When Úlfnaor straightened from his bow, Wynter returned his graciousness with a regal tilting of her head. Christopher danced his horse to her side.
“Are we ready?” he asked, his voice hard.
Razi and Úlfnaor exchanged a look. Razi nodded, and together the two leaders wheeled their horses around and led their people onto the trail that would lead to Alberon’s camp.
Glossary
The language used by the Merron in this book is equivalent to modern day Irish. The most commonly used words and phrases are translated here, except for any that are already translated in the text.
Note: Apparent inconsistencies in the spelling of some words, like “Domhan” and “Domhain”, relate to the rules of Irish grammar.
abair leo a gcuid airm a chaitheamh uathu – tell them to throw down their arms
ach – but
a chroí – my dear
a dhuine uasail – honoured person
agus – and
amach leat – out with you! Get out!
a mhuirnín – beloved/sweetheart/darling
an bhfuil drochghoile ort aris? – have you a pain in your gut again?
an bhfuil tú ansin? – are you there?
An Domhan – the World (the Merron’s version of God)
an Lá Deireanach – the Last Day
anois – now
anseo – here
ar son an Ghrá – for Love
bhféidir go n-inseofa dóibh go bhfuil xxx anseo – perhaps you would tell them that xxx is here
bhí Ashkr anseo – Ashkr was here
bhí orm mo chac a dhéanarmh – I had to take a shit
bígí ar bhur suaimhneas – relax, be calm
buíochas leat – thank you
cé hé sin? – who is that?
ce hiad na ceoltoirí – who are the musicians?
cén fáth an teanga coimhthíoch – why the foreign tongue?
cé thú féin? – who are you?
conas atá tú? – how are you?
croch leat! Agus ná bí ag stánadh – push off! And don’t be staring
croí-eile – other-heart
dhá luch beaga – two small mice
fan liom – wait for me
fan nóiméad – wait for a moment
féach – look
fear saor – free man (Is fear saor mise freisin—I am a free man too)
filid – ancient noble and hereditary title. A filid would be responsible for preserving the history of his people in oral form and then teaching it to the next generation. The preservation of history in its oral form was very much the traditional role, and any moves to write history down would have been frowned upon. The modern version of this word, file, has come to mean simply “poet.”
gabh mo leithscéal – excuse me
gread leat – shove off! Beat it!
iníon – daughter/daughter of
le meas – with respect
luch – mouse
lucha rua – red mouse
luichín – little mouse
mac – son/son of
maith sibh a chúnna – good dogs!
mura mhiste leat – if you don’t mind
nach bhfuil?/nach ea? – isn’t it/he/she?
nach Merron thú – are you not Merron?
níl mé ag eitilt – I am not flying
níl sé réidh – he isn’t ready
níl sé go maith – he isn’t well
níl Tabiyb ach ina coimhthíoch – Tabiyb is only a foreigner
puballmór – the words “puball mór” literally mean “big tent.” Here the word “puballmór” signifies the Merron’s distinctive conical tents
rua ’gus dubh – red and black
rud éigin le hól – something to drink
sea – yes
seachtain deireanach – last week
scéal? – a shortened version of “aon scéal?”: what’s the story? Any news?
suigí síos – sit down (plural )
tá an Domhan do m’iarraidh – the World is calling me
tá Ashkr ag fanacht le Sól – Ashkr is waiting for Sól
tabhair nóimead dúinn – give us a minute
táim beagnach in éineacht leat – I am nearly with you
tá go maith? – all right?
tá mo chac orm – I have to shit
tá m’uain tagtha – it is my time/my time has come
tarraing siar/tarraingígí siar – pull back (singular and plural)
tá sé beagnach ina mhaidin – it’s nearly morning
tá sé caillte – he is lost
tá siad ina gcnap codlata – they are fast asleep
tá teanga na Hadran acu – they speak the Hadrish tongue
thóin caca – shit arse
tógfaidh Coinín
m’áitse? – Coinín will take my place?
Acknowledgments
With huge thanks to Svetlana Pironko of Author Rights Agency for her protection and guidance. A wonderful agent and friend. Also to my first publishers The O’Brien Press; in particular to Michael O’Brien for his fearlessness.
Many, many thanks to all at Little, Brown who have thrown themselves so enthusiastically into the Moorehawke experience. You guys have been amazing.
Many thanks and much love to Sorcha DeFrancesco (Ni Cuimín) and Phil Ó Cuimín who gifted me their beautiful conversational Irish, and to Gabriel Rosenstock for correcting my spelling and grammar. Any remaining mistakes are all down to my ignorance and are my fault entirely.
Thanks to Pat Mullan, whose kindness and generosity of spirit opened a door I had begun to think was locked for good. And always, thank you, Catherine and Roddy.
extras
meet the author
Celine Kiernan
Born and raised in Dublin, Ireland, CELINE KIERNAN has spent the majority of her working life in the film business, and her career as a classical feature animator spanned over seventeen years. Celine wrote her first novel at the age of eleven, and hasn’t stopped writing or drawing since. She also has a peculiar weakness for graphic novels as, like animation, they combine the two things she loves to do the most: drawing and storytelling. Now, having spent most of her time working between Germany, Ireland and the USA, Celine is married and the bemused mother of two entertaining teens. She lives a peaceful life in the blissful countryside of Cavan, Ireland. Find out more about the author at www.celinekiernan.com.
Merron Religion, Ritual and Hierarchy
The Merron are a fiercely proud and independent nation, self-reliant and bowing their knee to no royalty but their own. For centuries they have followed the seasons as pastoral nomads, living off their tribal lands, and trading their famous crafts with the settled communities they call “village folk” or “foreigners” (choimhthíoch). However, their lives are rapidly changing for the worse. Under the violent and repressive rule of King Gwnther Shirken and his heir the Royal Princess Marguerite, the Merron no longer have freedom of movement to travel with the seasons, nor the right to follow their ancient way of life. They find themselves gradually squeezed further and further into confined territories of the Northland mountains, far from the grass plains they need to maintain their herds of horses, and far from the way of life which has provided for them for generation after generation. They see their people persecuted and their religious leaders tortured and killed as part of the Shirkens’ unrelenting effort to control all aspects of life in the Northland Kingdom. The Merron have become a desperate people, fast running out of time and options.
Each Merron clan has its own territory and, except for the annual gathering (an aonach) where the four tribes gather for a month-long fair, the clans rarely travel beyond the long established borders of their ancestral homes. To encroach on another clan’s territory would be a terrible crime against Merron civil and religious law. Should a clan be forced to make such a move, even against their will, it would be expected that they make great reparation to both their God and their fellow clans or else find themselves outcast from the nation. To travel to a land where no tribe has ever dwelled is to move far from the sight of God (An Domhan). Should a clan find itself the first Merron in a new land, they would need to “make a bridge” between themselves and An Domhan and so awaken God to their presence. Failure to do so would condemn them to an existence separated from An Domhan and outside the natural order of things.
There are four tribes of Merron: Snake, Hawk, Bear and Panther. Though each tribe originates from a different area of the Northern Europes, and each has slightly differing traditions and cultures, all consider themselves Merron and all speak the Merron tongue. The noblefolk we meet in this book are envoys chosen by a council of all four tribes to negotiate on their behalf in the Southlands, and are religious and military leaders from the Panther and Bear tribes. Panther and Bear Merron would consider themselves the most traditional of the tribes, still following closely the fundamental principles of the Merron’s ancient religion. Bear and Panther Merron often refer to themselves as the People (in reference to their being those most closely linked to An Domhan) but any followers of An Domhan are entitled to be considered one of the People.
The People practice an extreme and fundamental form of pantheism. To them, God is everything and everything that exists is but a manifestation of God. So to the Merron a human being is the same as a tree, a tree is the same as a rock, a rock is the same as a dog—because all of them are God in its many forms. God’s most pure expression—its consciousness or its soul, if you like—is referred to as Croi an Domhain (the Heart of the World) and when a Merron dies he or she may walk with or within this consciousness as an honoured and beloved manifestation of God’s heart, at once one with God but retaining their own individual personality and thoughts.
An Domhan’s most treasured representatives amongst the living are those people called the Caorigh (pl.). They are considered to be the closest of all living creatures to Croi an Domhain and as such are worshipped as the purest manifestation of An Domhan. They usually live long and honoured lives amongst the Merron, during which they lead Merron religious ceremonies, offer their blood as sacrifice to An Domhan and take “vision quests” in order to divine the future or communicate with An Domhan. As with all Merron ranks and higher professions, the title of Caora is hereditary, so the children of Caorigh will inevitably grow up to be the next generation of Caorigh. Sometimes it is an Aoire who will father or bear the child of a Caora but mostly Caora of one clan will reproduce with those of another. In general there can only be one Caora per clan, but for a Caora to have a multiple birth (twins, triplets etc) would be considered fantastically auspicious and those children would be particularly honoured by the clan into whose care they were eventually given.
The Caorigh are protected by a group of warriors known as na (fir/mná) Fada (the Long (Men/Women) Born into their titles, na Fadai (pl.) are sent to special camps where they are trained from childhood to defend the Merron faith. In ancient times they would have been the enforcers of religious law. Their duties would have included punishing dissenters and ensuring strict adherence to the religion’s rules. In The Crowded Shadows, na Fadaí that accompany Úlfnaor are there as much to ensure he fulfils his duty as they are there to protect him.
As An Domhan’s most honoured representatives amongst the living, the Caorigh are the highest authority in Merron religious matters. Their word is final when it comes to religious law. However, most Caorigh are happy to leave everything to their Aoire (Shepherd) and it is the Aoiri (pl.) who truly wield all the power and carry all the responsibility for religious and political matters amongst the Merron people. They are the Merron’s royalty, their politicians and their decision makers.
The future of the Merron people is in their hands.
The Merron are very keen on openness and overt shows of honesty and trust. They openly wear the symbols of their tribal affiliations on their arms and in painted symbols on their horses and homes. They take offence at the slightest implication that they may be untrustworthy or criminally inclined and make a show of offering the same trust to visiting members of other tribes or clans.
Names are extremely important since a Merron name tells that person’s family lineage, their profession, their hereditary titles and sometimes (as with the name Garron) the place where that person was born. The exchange of names is a sign of trust and acceptance. You must be invited to introduce yourself to a Merron—especially a Merron nobleperson. Just to walk up and offer your name is a huge social faux pas that would be accepted with resignation from a coimhthíoch but severely frowned upon from another Merron.
The wearing of long hair is a symbol of tribal affiliation. Up until a certain age (nine or ten) children of both sexes wear their hair cropped close to their head, only being allowed to grow it long once they have been
accepted as adult members of their tribe. Around this time they will also receive their tribal bracelets. For an adult Merron to have their hair shorn, or to shear their own hair, is symbolic of them having been cast from or breaking their affiliation with their tribe. In The Crowded Shadows Sólmundr and Ashkr give Christopher a set of Bear bracelets to symbolise Christopher’s adoption into the Bear tribe. In reality, Christopher’s adoption would first have to be approved by an Aoire. Then he would need to be publicly “named” by his adopting parent (in this case Sólmundr) who would cut and burn Christopher’s hair as a symbolic casting aside of Christopher’s allegiance to the Snake Merron and his starting anew as a child of the Bear. Due to the circumstances of The Crowded Shadows, Christopher’s adoption would certainly have been accepted by the Merron travel party, but as soon as is possible (probably at the next aonach) Sól and he will need to go through the full adoption ceremony—including the shearing of Christopher’s hair and Sólmundr’s publicly naming him as his son.
This adoption would be a bittersweet acceptance for Christopher who has witnessed his “first father”, the filid Aidan Garron, struggle against his superiors in order to improve the lot of the Merron people. Aidan Garron understood that the Merron way of life was no longer sustainable, and he fought to preserve Merron tradition while trying to move his people forward as a nation. He knew that in order to survive the changes around them, the Merron needed to adapt. But in the end, the struggle to change the Merron mindset proved too difficult, and Aiden Garron chose a life apart from the tribes rather then continue the fight to save them.
Christopher understands that in everything they do and say the Merron are upholding a code which outsiders find difficult to understand, and it is this which often leaves them open to misinterpretation. For example, though they are skilled diplomats and fluent in several Northland languages, the Merron in The Crowded Shadows insist on communicating via Hadrish, a language they barely know. To them this is a point of pride and personal honour, a gesture of respect to their guests. To outsiders it can make them appear ignorant, even brutish. In this, as in many aspects of their behaviour, the Merron stand in their own way. By refusing to bend to circumstance and adapt to their surroundings they are perpetuating the misunderstandings and miscommunication which may well be the undoing of their nation. For it is this vulnerability which Marguerite Shirken hopes to exploit to her own end, and so it may be that the pride and tradition which has kept the Merron strong for centuries may be the very thing which aids in their ultimate destruction.
The Crowded Shadows Page 42