BOOK I IN THE MOOREHAWKE TRILOGY 35 страница
Isaac squirmed and shrieked and wriggled. Finally the lady thrust him from her with a weary sigh. ‘Here,’ she said, ‘you will just have to cook this piglet. It’s all I can find to eat, I’m afraid.’
The Protector Lord swung the little boy onto his back with an order to hold tight, then launched himself over the edge. Isaac grinned at the lady’s faint, ‘Jesu!’ He glanced up to see her looking over the scaffolding, shaking her head at them as they descended the ladder. She was all lit up against the very bright blue of the sky, her untidy red hair ruffled and streaming out like ribbons on the hot breeze. As he watched her, she leaned her elbows on the scaffold bar, laced her work-hardened hands and gazed out across the huge and troubled magnificence of the city. Her face fell into that grave kind of watchfulness so familiar to him, and he regarded her with all the love possible in his small and happy heart.
The Protector Lord climbed down and down. Just before he reached the final levels, where the roof would no longer be in their line of sight, Isaac saw the Protector Lady catch sight of something down by the stables and straighten. She smiled, raising her hand, and Isaac’s heart leapt because he knew that look too – that beaming anticipatory grin. His father was coming! The lady must have seen him walking through the gate.
Just before the Protector Lord swung them both in and onto the ground, Isaac saw the Protector Lady swing herself out onto the ladder and begin to follow them down. The little boy laughed and slithered from the lord’s shoulders. He hit the ground running, determined to beat them all to it and meet his father halfway.
GLOSSARY
THE LANGUAGE used by the Merron in this book is equivalent to modern-day Irish. Note: apparent inconsistencies in the spelling of some words, like Domhan and Domhain, relate to the rules of Irish grammar.
A chroí – My dear / love
A luch / lucha – Mouse
Agus / ’gus [abbreviated] – And
Aidan an Filid, Mac Oisín an Filid, as Tír na Garron – Aidan the Poet, Son of Oisín the Poet, from the Land of Garron
An Domhan / An Domhain – The World [the Merron’s version of God]
Aoire – Shepherd
Aoire an Domhain – Shepherd of the World
Aonach – A fair
Cac / caic – Shit [singular / plural]
Cad a rinne tú? – What did you do?
Cad é? – What? / What is it?
Caora / Caoirigh – An Honoured Representative of the Merron God / the Merron God made flesh [singular / plural]
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Cén fáth na saighdiúirí, a Choinín? – Why the soldiers, Coinín?
Ciúnas! – Silence!
Coimhthíoch – Foreigners
Coinín Mac Aidan ’gus Mac Sólmundr – Coinín Son of Aidan and Son of Sólmundr
Coinín. Agus é ag rith – Coinín. And he’s running.
Cosc ort nóiméad, a luch – Stop yourself for a moment, mouse
Croí-eile – Other-heart
Cúnna – Dogs
Fan – Stay / wait
Fan nóiméad – Wait for a moment
Fear óg thú, a Choinín. Tá neart ama agat – You are a young man, Coinín. You have plenty of time.
Filid – Poet [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.]
Frith an Domhain – Frith of the World [sometimes used as Merron blasphemy]
Go h-álainn – Beautiful
Hallvor an Fada, Iníon Ingrid an Fada, Cneasaí – Hallvor an Fada, Daughter of Ingrid an Fada, Healer
Is mé atá ann! – It’s me! / I’m the one who’s here!
Luichín – Little mouse
‘Maidin Ór’ – ‘Golden Morning’
Mo mhuirnín – My beloved / sweetheart / darling
Ná bac faoí / Ná bac – Don’t bother about it / don’t let it worry you [literally don’t baulk under it; sometimes used in the sense of you’re welcome]
Ná bac faoí, a chú. Níl iontu ach amadáin – Don’t let it worry you, hound. They are only fools.
Na Cúnna Faoil – The Wolfhounds
Nach ea, mo ghadhar? – Isn’t that right, my [hunting] dog?
Scòn – Scone [Old Scots Gaelic for a specific type of griddle cake]
Slán, a stór – Goodbye, dear
Sól, mo mhuirnín, tar ar ais gan mhoill – Sól, my darling, come back without delay
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Tá go maith? – All right?
Tá na Haun ag imeacht, a Aoire – The Haun are leaving, Aoire
Tá sí marbh! – She is dead!
Tar anseo! – Come here!
Tarraing siar! / Tarraingígí siar! – Pull back! [singular / plural]
Tóg go bog é – Take it easy
Tóin caca – Shit arse
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
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, who took a chance on me and have supported me all through this adventure. In particular, thanks to Michael O’Brien for his fearlessness. Many thanks and much love to Sorcha De Francesco (Ní Chuimín) and Phil Ó Cuimín, who gifted me their beautiful conversational Irish. Thanks to Pat Mullan, whose kindness and generosity of spirit opened a door I had begun to think was locked for good. As always, thank you Catherine and Roddy. Finally and most especially, thanks to Elise Jones, my Allen & Unwin editor; seriously woman, you are a Godsend and a bloody hilarious one at that. I would have been lost without you.
BOOK I IN THE MOOREHAWKE TRILOGY
MEET FIFTEEN-YEAR-OLD Wynter Moorehawke – Protector Lady, qualified girl apprentice in a man’s trade, former King’s Cat Keeper, and feisty heroine of the Moorehawke Trilogy.
Wynter returns from a five-year exile in the bleak Northlands to find her beloved homeland in turmoil. King Jonathan’s civilised, multicultural realm is no more; the gibbets and cages have returned. Days of laughter, friendly ghosts and gossipy cats remain only in Wynter’s memory – the present confronts her with power play, dark torture chambers, violent ghosts, and cats (those still alive) too scared to talk to humans. The Inquisition is a real and present danger.
Crown Prince Alberon is missing. There are murmurings of a ‘Bloody Machine’ of untold destructive power. And as Wynter and her friends, Prince Razi and the mysterious Christopher Garron, seek to restore stability to the fragile kingdom, risking death at every turn, Wynter is forced to make a terrible choice.
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