10/01/2025
Early anthropologists assumed that prehistoric societies had started out as matriarchal (among other things) and progressed through time until reaching the pinnacle of human culture: Western society in the Victorian period. In the twentieth century the idea of prehistoric matriarchy gained a new popularity as a feminist utopia, an idea that drew inspiration from the work of Marija Gimbutas. From this soil sprang THE YEAR THE HORSES CAME by Mary Mackey.
Marrah lives between six and seven thousand years ago in what is now Brittany. On the day of her coming of age ceremony, she finds a mostly-drowned man on the beach. This stranger looks very different from the people of Marrah’s village, with his light hair and eyes. He has golden jewelry depicting some strange animal, like a deer but not. A second man like this turns up, this one dead. It turns out the two are brothers from far away (today’s Eastern Europe/western Asia) who left their nomadic horse-riding people to explore the west. Their people, and probably the dead brother, intended this to be for the purposes of seeing whether it was worth raiding and conquering, but the living brother, Stavan, a gentler soul to begin with, is rethinking that plan. Fortunately he turns out to speak the language of Shara, a city on the Black Sea and Marrah’s mother’s birthplace, so the characters and the reader don’t have to suffer long with communication problems.
Marrah’s mother had had a vision years ago that her daughter would save her people from “beastmen” from the east, and now she has another vision reinforcing that. Marrah and her younger brother Arang must travel to Shara and warn the people. They, along with Stavan, join some traders and set off on a journey that takes them to the Mediterranean (stopping to see some Paleolithic painted caves on the way), then to Sardinia, where Marrah enters a temporary marriage with Stavan (at the age of 14!), and on eastward until they reach Shara, which seems to be on the Black Sea coast somewhere in what is now Romania. Stavan leaves to go back to his people and convince them there’s no reason to explore westward.
Nothing happens immediately, and Marrah is welcomed by her Sharan grandmother. Eventually, two years later, she travels northward to another city, but upon arrival her party discovers it has just been sacked by the “beastmen.” Marrah and Arang are taken captive by the nomads. Fortunately for them, it’s the same group that Stavan comes from, although he’s now regarded as bewitched and insane. An enslaved interpreter manages to convince everyone that Arang is actually Stavan’s brother’s child, so Stavan’s father, the chief of the tribe, makes Arang his heir. Marrah is given to Stavan’s half-brother Vlahan as a second wife.
Life among the nomads isn’t fun for any of our protagonists. Eventually Stavan’s father dies. As is customary, horses, wives, and retainers will be sacrificed to join him in the afterlife. Vlahan decides Marrah should be among them. At the last minute she’s saved through luck, a little help from her friends, and a “magic” gift she received when visiting the painted cave. She, Arang, Stavan, and a few friends escape westward to have two books’ worth more of adventures.
Perhaps the trope of the Chosen One didn’t seem like such a cliché in the 1990s. Why do the Sharans even need some special person to warn them about the beastmen anyway? Wouldn’t they hear the news from outlying towns as the nomad incursions begin to affect their cultural sphere? Once Marrah arrives and warns everyone, they don’t even really take her seriously. Also, why did Marrah’s mother go so far west to raise her child, much farther than seems necessary to protect her from any threats in Shara – over a thousand miles. Maybe it was just so we could travel with Marrah through Neolithic Europe and see different places and people. The journey takes about two-thirds of the book.
Marrah’s culture and Stavan’s culture are both fairly unrealistic; one an idealized version of what the past was like, the other the opposite. Marrah’s people have equality between the sexes, a pretty egalitarian-seeming society in general (even though some places have queens), free love, they respect animals and use every part, etc. Stavan’s people are constantly violent and misogynistic, and life is cheap. There’s no nuance. No nomads who are tender to their wives in private, for instance – at least none that we see. The author acknowledges the work of Gimbutas as an inspiration for her depiction of Europe but doesn’t seem to have done much research on cultures of the steppes – an area known for female warrior burials.
It’s interesting to see that whenever mass human sacrifice appears in a novel, the protagonist always has to be caught up in it as a potential victim. IN THE COURT OF THE QUEEN has this plot point in Mesopotamia, JOURNEY TO THE SUN and CRICKET SINGS have it at Cahokia, and THE YEAR THE HORSES CAME has it on the steppes (probably based on Herodotus’s description of Scythian burial customs).
In the end, despite the book’s playing fast and loose with archaeology, it’s pretty entertaining to read. Marrah et al. are engaging characters. As long as you don’t think you’re really learning history from this, it’s a fun read.