Wars of the Irish Kings (19 page)

Then the men of Munster set out on their way, and journey, and expedition orderly, bravely, and prudently. They plundered each territory, and burned each fortress and town that they met on their straight way from Dundalk to Ath Cliath. There came a message before them to the royal town, and it was told to the women of the Norsemen that their husbands were slain, and that Cellachan was taken from them by force.

I
N THE HIERARCHY OF THE
Irish kings, Brian Boru (c. 941-1014) began as an outsider and upstart. Boru (or Borumha) was the son of Conneid, king of Thomond, which was a minor kingdom within Munster that corresponded closely with the boundaries of today’s County Clare. Romantic legend depicts young Boru as a teenage guerrilla leader defying the Vikings and the nearby Norse community of Limerick, but whatever the case, after the death of his older brother in 976, he became king of Thomond and chief of the Dal Cais, the family clan.

It is impossible to know if Brian had a vision of Ireland as a single nation, as some nationalists later liked to believe, or if he was simply seized with a personal political and military ambition never before seen in Ireland. But beginning with the destruction of Viking Limerick, his shadow moved across the face of the island. He took the crown of Munster from the Eoganacht clan, then moved east to subdue Leinster, then north to confront the powerful O’Neills. Coordinating both land troops and a navy of ships probably captured from the Vikings, Brian demonstrated considerable tactical sophistication at a time when a battle was often simply two lines of troops flailing away at each other. Although he never succeeded in conquering the north, he did intimidate Malachy (or Mael Sechnaill), the high king of Ireland, into handing over the throne to Boru in 997. Dramatically demonstrating that the high kingship was no longer the exclusive property of the O’Neills, Brian had himself crowned not on the traditional Hill of Tara but at the Rock of Cashel, seat of the kings of Munster. Soon afterward, in Armagh, he was called emperor
(imperatoris)
of the Irish, perhaps the only time that word has been used to describe an Irish leader. Under Boru, the title
ard-ri
, high king, was to be no longer hollow or ceremonial.

While the Irish kings struggled with each other, the Vikings—now more often merchants than marauders—still controlled the cities. (Dublin was a virtual city-state with a Norse king all its own.) The complex state
of affairs was probably best embodied—quite literally embodied—in Boru’s remarkable fourth wife, Gormfhlaith (or Kormlada), daughter of a king of Leinster. He probably married her as a token of his dominance over that province, and they seem to have had no children, but at one time or another she was also married to both Olaf Cuaran (king of Dublin) and Boru’s adversary, Malachy. Her and Olaf’s son, Sitric, was king of Dublin when Boru and Malachy—fighting side by side as allies after Malachy’s abdication as high king—tried unsuccessfully to take the city, and her brother was Maelmordha, the king of Leinster, who, with Viking support, rebelled against Boru. The result was the fatal battle at Clontarf.

An imaginary portrait of Brian Boru, high king of Ireland.

Clon
means “meadow,” and Clontarf was a marshy seaside field that ran along a small stream just north of Dublin, close enough to town—according to some accounts—that it could be seen from the city walls. There, during Holy Week in 1014, two armies gathered. On one side was Boru, now in his seventies (although some accounts make him older), his eldest son Murchadh, the men of Munster, the former high king Malachy, and the men of Meath. On the other side was Maelmordha, the men of Leinster, Dublin Vikings, and a Viking fleet from the Orkney Islands. Medieval writers greatly exaggerated the size of the armies, but even modern historians’ more modest estimated total of five thousand troops makes it one of the largest battles yet fought in Ireland. At the last minute, Malachy refused to fight, but the battle began without him on Good Friday morning and lasted most of the day.

Today, Brian Boru is best remembered for something he did not do. He did not drive the Vikings out of Ireland at Clontarf, but the battle did mark a turning point in Irish history. Not for centuries, not until the invasion of the Bruces from Scotland in the fourteenth century and the rebellion of Hugh O’Neill at the end of the fifteenth, would anyone again think of Ireland as a whole rather than as a collection of fractious kingdoms.

AS SOON AS THEY GOT A FAIR
wind they put out to sea [from Iceland]. They had a long passage and hard weather. Then they quite lost their reckoning. It happened once that three great seas broke over their ship, one after the other. Then Flosi said they must be near some land, and that this was a groundswell. A great mist was on them, but the wind rose so that a great gust overtook them. They scarce knew where they were before they were
dashed on shore at dead of night, and there the men were saved, but the ship was dashed all to pieces, and they could not save their goods.

Then they had to look for shelter and warmth for themselves. The day after they went up on a height. The weather was then good. Flosi asked if any man knew this land, and there were two men of their crew who had fared thither before, and said they were quite sure they knew it, and, say they, “We are come to Hrossey in the Orkneys.” “Then we might have made a better landfall,” said Flosi, “for Grim and Helgi, Njal’s sons, whom I slew, were in earl Sigurd Hlodver’s son’s body-guard.” Then they sought for a hiding-place, and spread moss over themselves, and so lay for a while, but not for long, ere Flosi spoke, and said, “We will not lie here so any longer until the landsmen are aware of us.”

Then they arose and took counsel. Then Flosi said to his men, “We will go all of us and give ourselves up to the earl; for there is naught else to do, and the earl has our lives at his pleasure if he chooses to seek for them.” Then they all went away thence. Flosi said that they must tell no man any tidings of their voyage or doings before he told them to the earl. Then they walked on until they met men who showed them to the homestead. Then they went in before the earl, and Flosi and all the others hailed him. The earl asked what men they might be, and Flosi told his name, and said out of what part of Iceland he was. The earl had already heard of the Burning, and so he knew the men at once.

Then the earl asked Flosi, “What hast thou to tell me about Helgi Njal’s son, my henchman.” “This,” said Flosi, “that I hewed off his head.” “Take them all,” said the earl. Then that was done. Just then in came Thorstein, son of Hall of the Side. Flosi had to wife Steinvora, Thorstein’s sister. Thorstein was one of earl Sigurd’s body-guard. But when he saw Flosi seized and held, he went in before the earl, and offered for Flosi all the goods he had. The earl was very wrath a long time, but at last the end of it was, by the prayer of good men and true, joined to those of Thorstein, for he was well backed by friends, and many threw in their word with his, that the earl took an atonement from them and gave Flosi and all the rest of them peace. The earl held to that custom of mighty men that Flosi took that place in his service which Helgi Njal’s son had filled. So Flosi was made earl Sigurd’s henchman, and he soon won his way to great love with the earl.

Those messmates Kari [Njal’s son-in-law] and Kolbein the black put out to sea from Eyrar [in Iceland] half a month later than Flosi and his companions from Hornfirth. They got a fine fair wind, and were but a short time out. The first land they made was the Fair isle, it lies between
Shetland and the Orkneys. There that man whose name was David the white took Kari into his house; he tells him all that he had heard for certain about the doings of the Burners. He was one of Kari’s greatest friends, and Kari stayed with him for the winter. Then they heard tidings from the west out of the Orkneys of all that was done there. Earl Sigurd bade to his feast at Yule earl Gilli, his brother-in-law, out of the Southern Isles; he had to wife Swanlauga, earl Sigurd’s sister. Then too came to see earl Sigurd that king from Ireland whose name was Sigtrygg [Sitric, king of Dublin]. He was a son of Olaf, but his mother’s name was Kormlada. She was the fairest of all women, and best gifted in everything that was not in her own power, but it was the talk of men that she did all things ill over which she had any power. [That is, she had the best natural gifts, but what she did out of her own will was bad.]

Brian [Boru] was the name of the king who first had her to wife, but they were then parted. He was the best natured of all kings. He had his seat in Ireland at Kincora. His brother’s name was Wolf the quarrelsome, the greatest champion and warrior; Brian’s foster-child’s name was Kerthialfad. He was the son of king Kylfi, who had many wars with king Brian, and fled away out of the land before him, and became a hermit. But when king Brian went south on a pilgrimage, then he met king Kylfi, and they were atoned. Then king Brian took his son Kerthialfad to him, and loved him more than his own sons. He was then full grown when these things happened, and was the boldest of all men. Duncan was the name of the first of king Brian’s sons; the second was Margad; the third, Takt, whom we call Tann, he was the youngest of them; but the elder sons of king Brian were full grown, and the briskest of men. Kormlada was not the mother of king Brian’s children, and so grim had she got against king Brian after their parting, that she would gladly have him dead. King Brian thrice forgave all his outlaws the same fault but if they misbehaved themselves oftener, then he let them be judged by the law; and from this one may mark what a king he must have been.