The Crowded Shadows (58 page)

T
he 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.

If you enjoyed

THE CROWDED SHADOWS,

look out for

THE REBEL PRINCE

Book 3 of The Moorehawke Trilogy

by Celine Kiernan

When Wynter was five, her father dressed her in a little red coat, put her on the back of his horse, and took her on a picnic. Wynter remembered the drowsy movement of the horse beneath her, and leaning back into the warm support of her father as they travelled the forest paths. She remembered his strong arms encompassing her as he held the reins, the scent of woodshavings and resin from his clothes. She remembered the light coming through the foliage, and how it had moved across her hands, so small on the big leather pommel of Lorcan’s saddle.

Lorcan’s friend, Jonathon, had been with them, and his sons, Razi and Alberon. All of them were happy, and laughing, which was something they seemed to do quite often back then. Just two friends and their beloved children out for a jaunt on a warm autumn day, getting the best of the good weather before winter finally tightened its grip. Looking back on it, Wynter knew there must have been some kind of military presence with them, but she had no recollection of soldiers or any kind of guards. Perhaps she was so used to the presence of soldiers around her father’s good friend that she no longer noticed them. She never thought of Jonathon as “The King” back then. She recalled only thinking of him as Jon, that big, golden-headed man, so quick to lose his temper but just as quick to show affection. He had been best friend to her own father, and father to her two best friends, those brothers of her heart: the dark, serious, protective Razi, and the grinningly impulsive, loving Alberon.

Razi had kept trotting on ahead, his brown face all alight at the unexpected freedom of the day. Alberon was for the first time astride his own horse, and Wynter remembered watching with amused envy as he urged the little creature on, attempting to keep pace with his older half-brother. She recalled him calling anxiously across the sun-dappled air, “Razi! Razi! Don’t leave me!” and Razi’s smile as he turned back to wait.

They had stopped at a ford, and the men had stripped to their underthings and run into the shallow water, whooping and splashing and laughing at the cold. Wynter had hopped from foot to foot on the edge of the water, watching as Alberon threw himself into his father’s arms. Jon had flung him high into the sunshine, Albi’s small face luminous with sun-glitter and joy.

A warm presence by her side, and she had looked up into Razi’s smiling face.

“Come on, darling.” He had offered his hand. “It’s only cold for a moment.” He led her carefully into the stream, her hand held tight in his, then her father had waded over and hoisted them, one under each water-chilled arm, and carried them out into the bright water to teach them how to swim.

Almost eleven years later, Wynter Moorehawke sat on the warm, smooth-pebbled beach of a similar ford and listened to the furtive rustling of the surrounding forest. Half her mind was on the unintelligible conversation of the Merron warriors who sat on the rocks to her right, the other half on the forest shadows and all the lurking possibilities they might contain.

Down by the water’s edge, the now twenty-year-old Razi crouched on his haunches and frowned out across the shallow water. For a blissful moment it seemed as though he might actually relax and sit down, but Wynter knew that he was unlikely to stay still for long. Sure enough, the dark young man almost immediately ran his hands through his hair, sighed in frustration, and rose, once again, to his feet.

Do not start pacing
, thought Wynter, but Razi, of course, did just that.

His lanky silhouette stalked out of sight at the corner of her eye, then stalked right back in again, just as quick, and Wynter had to turn her head so that she wouldn’t be driven mad by his ceaseless prowling. Since Embla’s death, a deep and angry river of impatience ran very close to Razi’s surface, and it manifested itself in constant, irritating motion. Wynter felt genuine sympathy for Razi’s loss, but just at that moment, the crunch, crunch, crunch of his footsteps on the pebble shore was grating on her already stretched nerves. She tightened her jaw against the urge to snap at him.