1014: Brian Boru & the Battle for Ireland (5 page)

Iona was part of a sixth-century Irish settlement which once had included Argyll on the Scottish mainland and the islands of the Hebrides. The settlers were members of the Dal Riada tribe in northern Ireland. Their descendants were the highland Scots, who for centuries would resist English domination with indomitable courage. The monastery St Columba founded on Iona had been a
frequent
target of the Vikings. Perhaps Olaf Cuaran went there as an act of contrition, but if so, he did not have much time to gain forgiveness. Not long after his arrival on Iona, the old king died.

Upon payment of an exorbitantly high tribute,
Malachy
Mór allowed Sitric, who was so young they still called him ‘Silkbeard’, to succeed his father as king of Dublin. He was not the first king of Dublin to bear that name; at least three had preceded him over the years: ‘Sigtryggr’ was a popular Viking name. The
arrangement
was somewhat reminiscent of Brian Boru’s
generous
treatment of the Norse in Limerick, but it did not win the eternal loyalty of the Danes of Dublin for Malachy. Their allegiance was given to their new king and through him to his uncle, Maelmora of Leinster, Gormlaith’s brother.

Sitric, and thus Maelmora, were now connected to one of the most prosperous trading confederations in the world. The collapse of the Roman Empire in the fifth century had meant the end of a great merchant network, but in time the Vikings constructed something similar to suit themselves. By the late tenth century they were
trading
with rising commercial interests along the borders of the English Channel and the North Sea. The
once-flourishing
traffic in luxury goods through the
Mediterranean
was long gone, but now Swedish and Danish adventurers were opening new trade routes from
Byzantium
to Russia, and importing eastern goods to the northern coasts.

Dublin had become a very valuable property. Sitric and Maelmora looked upon it as their own. Let the new Árd Rí have the rest of Ireland – ancient, backward Ireland.

Malachy Mór did not see it that way. He set about confirming his new position by demanding tribute from the provincial kings. The Uí Néill of Ulster responded immediately, as he expected. Connacht took a little longer, and Leinster longer still, sending only a fraction of the cattle due a high king.

Nothing was heard from Munster.

By this time Malachy was well aware of the rise to power of Brian Boru. From Malachy’s point of view the Dalcassian upstart lacked the credentials to be a provincial king at all. To remind him what real power was, Malachy led an army to Thomond to cut down the inaugural tree of the Dalcassians, the sacred oak beneath which every king of Thomond was crowned. This gesture of
dominance
was something the Dalcassian at Cashel could hardly ignore. Malachy fully expected that the Munster tribute would arrive at Tara in due course. Things had always been done this way in Ireland.

The Árd Rí then marched into Leinster to attack its king, Donall, take a number of hostages and destroy most of his army. Malachy ordered his men to collect double the number of cattle still due to him and deliver them to
his personal fort at Dun na Sciath – the Fort of the Shield – on Lough Ennell, in what is now County Westmeath. The high king’s army swept through the green
countryside
driving everything before it, including all the cattle from the royal stronghold of Naas, which was surrounded by some of the richest grassland in Ireland. Maelmora, senior among the princes living at Naas, was one of those left to pick up the pieces.

Maelmora was a man with his own agenda. He aspired to the kingship of the province, and saw the defeat of the pious Donall as a step in the right direction. Although he was seething inside over the loss of the royal herds, Maelmora did not openly defy the new Árd Rí. Politics triumphed over passion. He played his trump card. One might more accurately say he played his queen.

Chess was an extremely popular game in Ireland. The Gaelic version of this almost universal game was known as
fidchell
, and was the perfect pastime when
inclement
weather kept warriors from taking the field. No chieftain worthy of the gold torc he wore around his neck would fail to have at least one board and a set of chessmen among his possessions. The
fidchell
board was carved from yew wood and divided into black and white squares. The chessmen were two and a half inches tall, elaborately carved and embellished with precious
metals. Chess furniture was considered so much of a necessity that it was classified along with food under Brehon law. Brian Boru’s favourite chess pieces were said to be fashioned entirely of yellow gold and white bronze, and the soft leather bag in which they were stored was gilded. Maelmora of Leinster considered himself a champion at chess.

In 984 Maelmora encouraged Malachy Mór to marry his sister, the newly widowed princess Gormlaith, former wife of Olaf Cuaran. Maelmora assured Malachy that the marriage would be sufficient to gain the loyalty of
himself
and his followers among the Leinstermen. In
addition
, through Gormlaith’s son, Sitric, the commercial strength of Dublin would be at the disposal of the high king. Last but not least – and Maelmora did not mention this to Malachy – having family ties with the Árd Rí should help strengthen Maelmora’s own claim to the kingship of Leinster.

Everyone involved thought it was a wonderful idea. Almost everyone; history does not record Gormlaith’s opinion in the matter. Her opinions would only become important later.

Malachy’s marriage was motivated by something more than politics. In spite of having a son old enough to be king of Dublin, Gormlaith was still famed for her beauty.
The poets claimed she had the neck of a swan and hair so long it brushed her ankles. At the very least, she was memorable. Satisfied that he had established his authority beyond question, Malachy took his trophy wife home to Dun na Sciath and began entertaining Gaelic nobility in the style expected of an Árd Rí.

He had made a bad mistake in judgement. Or perhaps two.

Following the destruction of the inaugural tree of the Dalcassians, Brian Boru had begun to gather a fleet of longships. His generosity to the Norsemen of Limerick after the death of Ivar was not forgotten, and a number of them not only provided ships but served as crewmen. While Malachy was feasting on swans and wild boar and showing off his new wife, Brian was sailing up the
Shannon
. He marched an army into Meath and laid waste great swathes of land before the distracted Árd Rí even knew he was there. Brian returned in triumph to the acclaim of Munster, which paid no tribute to Tara that year. Or for many years to come.

Brian continued to strengthen his position through calculated diplomacy as well as a subtle show of strength. He called upon Munster’s petty kings and princes, one by one. Where possible he established friendly relations with each of them. On one or two occasions he took hostages,
however, hostages whom he treated with the same
exemplary
hospitality as always. When their tribes furnished the required tribute they were promptly released, though some preferred to stay with Brian Boru.

He widened his round of visits to include the kings and princes of the other noble families in the southern provinces, including recalcitrant Leinster. Accompanied by an impressive retinue of well-equipped warriors, purely for show he insisted, he presented his peers with generous gifts for themselves and their families, and gave large endowments to their churches and schools.

By the end of the tenth century Brian Boru
considered
himself not only king of Munster, but ruler of all Leth Moga. What followed was inevitable.

CHAPTER THREE

V
IKINGS

S
tern land breeds strong men. The inhabitants of the countries now known as Norway, Denmark and Sweden were a hardy breed accustomed to surviving in a cold climate with few natural resources. Subsistence farming was difficult at best. Norway was the most sterile of the territories, with too many peasants trying to farm too little soil. An early Norse historian wrote, ‘All that man may use for pasture or plough lieth against the sea, and even this is in some places very rocky.’

The one limitless resource these people possessed was the sea. They made the most of it. Around 700 BC the ridden horse had given the Celts the freedom and mobility to leave their homeland and settle throughout western Europe. Around AD 600 Norse boat builders had
developed a keel which allowed their boats to travel the open sea, thus making possible their territorial expansion.

The last decade of the eighth century was marked by armed raids around the coasts of Britain. The first Viking attacks were on Christian monasteries within sight of the sea. Lightweight longships with dragonheaded prows arrived with the tide and swiftly disgorged warriors of terrifying aspect. They came ashore dressed in furs and swinging battle axes, and howling for plunder. The
monasteries
were an easy target for them. The monks had no weapons with which to protect themselves, only scythes for cutting grass and some kitchen knives. They were humble men who lived very simply. But their small stone churches contained items of great beauty and great value. Gold or silver chalices were set with gemstones; patens were often of gold, the crosses and crosiers were works of art. The highest expression of the craftsman’s art was the sacred object given to God.

Beginning in 793 with the tiny island of Lindisfarne, the spiritual heart of the British kingdom of
Northumbria
, the Vikings initiated a reign of terror. They seized the sacred valuables and slaughtered the peaceful monks who tried to stop them. According to the scholar Alcuin, a Northumbrian advisor to Charlemagne, ‘The Church of St Cuthbert was spattered with the blood of the priests
of God and despoiled of all its ornaments, a place more venerable than all in Britain is given as prey to pagan peoples.’

The shock was felt throughout Christendom.

By the end of the eighth century the Viking tide reached Ireland. The year 795 saw the first Viking attack. Their target was Lambay Island, which was then called Rechru, a small island within sight of the present-day town of Skerries, north of Dublin. St Columba had founded a monastery on Rechru and by this period the monastic community had accrued enough wealth to be a tempting target. The Viking attack followed the usual pattern: assault, murder, pillage. Perhaps one or two
battered
monks lived long enough to tell what had
happened
to them, long enough to horrify the local
fishermen
who found them.

The terror such incidents inspired is captured in an ancient Irish poem dated to that era:

As the Viking attacks became more frequent, the Irish became increasingly alarmed. At first the foreigners
limited their raids to island communities inhabited by monks who offered no resistance. But inevitably, larger expeditions were fitted out to venture onto the
mainland
, burning and plundering as they came. In 812 a
full-scale
invasion in the region of the Lakes of Killarney was met, and defeated, by the rulers of the Gaelic tribe of the Owenacht. According to the Annals of Eginhard, who was Charlemagne’s tutor, ‘After no small number of the Northmen had been slain, they basely took to flight and returned home.’

They came again. And again. From 823 to 832 there is an almost unbroken record of wanton destruction. But those who began as robbers were slowly changing.

The northern lands were not rich in natural resources. Their craftsmen were skilled woodcarvers and
metalworkers
, but these required raw materials which were scarce at best. Foreign trade was sorely needed to supply the shortcomings of their home territory and improve the lives of its inhabitants.

Ireland, on the other hand, was abundantly supplied with oakwood forests, valuable metal ores, and fat cattle grazing on rich grasslands. Oak was highly prized for shipbuilding. Irish gold was treasured throughout
Christendom
. Cattle were an invaluable source of leather and tallow, which commanded high prices and could be
shipped anywhere. To a shrewd commercial eye, Ireland was a warehouse waiting to be emptied.

Scandinavian traders started to visit the Irish coast, scouting for suitable locations. Waterford in the southeast and Limerick in the west were among their first
discoveries
. Establishing seaports around the island had never occurred to the natives. During the so-called Dark Ages students from the European continent had flocked to Ireland to study at the great monastic centres, yet the Irish had never followed up on these links to develop a commercial trading network of their own.

In 837 a fleet of Norse longships sailed into Dublin Bay, fleeing a storm. They stayed only long enough to mend their ships, but they liked what they saw. Four years later the foreigners were back in earnest. Crews of Norsemen dragged their ships ashore at a natural harbour called the Black Pool – ‘Dubh Linn’, in Irish – where the River Poddle entered the River Liffey before both merged with the bay. The pool was overlooked by a stone monastery on a well-drained ridge fifty feet above the highest point of the incoming tide. (Centuries later, when the city of Dublin received its first charter under the English, its name, as still preserved in the
Corporation
archives, was listed as ‘Diveline’, the English
equivalent
of Dubh Linn.)

The small monastery relied on a nearby Christian
community
for its temporal needs. A few modest huts and several tiny workshops clustered beside the ford nearest to the mouth of the River Liffey. Known as the Hurdle Ford, this marked the juncture of several ancient roads. The villagers used the ford to drive their cattle safely across the river so they could graze on the lush fields of the northern bank.

The ford’s construction was uniquely Gaelic. Panels of woven wickerwork known as hurdles were thrown into the river and staked in place. When enough were piled up they provided relatively safe footing for man and beast. Because hurdles were easily constructed from local materials and easily replaced when they disintegrated, the Gael used them for many building purposes. Baile Átha Cliath – ‘the town at the ford of the hurdles’ – was the Irish name for the tiny community.

The Northmen did not consider the Liffey swamp a tempting site for colonising, but no harbour on the eastern coast of Ireland offered better access to the sea, so they simply took it over. Any resistance offered by the natives was overcome by force.

The Norse erected a timber stockade on the ridge and set about building a ship-fort from which they could
operate
on a permanent basis. When the first colonists arrived
from Scandinavia they named their new settlement for the Black Pool: Dubh Linn. The former inhabitants of Baile Átha Cliath may have tried to resist, but Ireland was an underpopulated island rich in natural resources. There was room enough for all. Or so it seemed. The annals of the period express it best: ‘The whole sea continued to vomit foreigners into Erin.’

If the Irish political situation was chaotic, that of the Vikings was no less so. Their homelands were divided into countless small fiefdoms. Kings and jarls battled one another for any scrap of fertile earth. Competition between the tribes was equally fierce. Any strongman who possessed a couple of longships and the loyalty of thirty-six men to crew them could become an
independent
entrepreneur. In time, the Vikings would build an enviable trade network that extended as far east as Russia.

In 852 a swarm of Danes descended upon Dublin, attacked the Norse and plundered their fortress. Soon afterwards the two forces fought one another at
Carlingford
, where the Norse were again defeated, but just barely. After this the two appeared to develop a
temporary
détente. In 857 the first recorded king of Dublin, a Norseman called Olaf the White, joined forces with a Danish warrior known as Ivarr the Boneless to attack
Scotland and Northumbria, where they gained a valuable foothold.

After Olaf was killed in battle, Ivarr assumed leadership both of the Norse in Ireland and the Danes in
Northumbria
, who were centred in York. The streets of York,
originally
laid out in a Roman-style grid, were being replaced by curving lanes more to the Viking taste. But Ivarr did not much care for York. Instead he undertook to create a royal seat for himself and a stronghold for his fellow Danes in Dublin. The original Viking ship-fort offered both a fine harbour and a more salubrious climate than Northumbria. At Ivarr’s behest extensive work was done along the Liffey estuary to facilitate ship landings,
including
the construction of a strong earthen bank topped with a reinforced timber palisade. Dublin was on its way to becoming a commercial seaport.

At the centre of the growing Danish town, Ivarr the Boneless built a timber palace for himself – dark and smoky and malodorous – which he filled with looted treasure. He also constructed a Thingmote: a high mound of earth traditionally used by the Scandinavians for their parliament, which was known as the Thing. The Dublin Thingmote occupied what is now College Green. King Henry II of England met the Irish chieftains there in 1172 and held a festival at Christmas to entertain them.
The Thingmote continued to be a prominent feature of the city until 1685, when Dublin Corporation granted the Bishop of Meath a licence to destroy the historic mound and use its earth to fill the channels and create Nassau Street.

In spite of his improvements for the city, Ivarr the Boneless continued to have a restless soul. Not content with making himself a king in Ireland, Ivarr sailed off to England to join ‘the great heathen army’ which was
terrorising
that land. When he died in 873 he was buried, according to the chronicles of the era, ‘in a manner
befitting
former times’.

Thanks to the highway of the sea, the reach of the Scandinavians was being extended. When Norse raiding parties first visited the Western Isles – a broad
designation
applied to numerous underpopulated islands around the western and northern fringes of Scotland – they
recognised
an opportunity. There was not a lot of wealth to plunder in places that could barely support their few inhabitants, but there was empty land for the taking. Land! Upon returning to their home ports the raiders reported what they had discovered. They could hardly talk about anything else. Men with the light of adventure in their eyes gazed eagerly out to sea, imagining …

The Norwegian king, Harald the Fair-haired, decided
to add the islands to his territorial acquisitions. One group in particular attracted his interest. The Orkneys consist of more than seventy islands and islets twenty miles north of the Scottish mainland. Some are
habitable
, some are not. Some are too small for anything but seabirds. Humans have dwelt among these islands since the Stone Age. Skara Brae is one of the most complete Neolithic settlements in Europe.

The Orkneys are virtually treeless and have little arable soil, but there was enough on the largest island, or
mainland
, to sustain a Norse stronghold, though they would have to import timber for shipbuilding. The mainland was mostly low and undulating, with good trout fishing in its streams. From the Viking point of view its greatest asset was the extensive landlocked harbour called Scapa Flow. The main entrance is in the south, where it opens onto Pentland Firth, the strait that separates the Orkneys from the Scottish mainland. There are also channels
leading
to the North Sea on the east and the Atlantic on the west. During both World Wars the British fleet was
stationed
at Scapa Flow. In short, the Orkneys were an ideal home base for Vikings.