New book on early medieval Scotland

Makers of Scotland: Picts, Romans, Gaels and Vikings
This is my latest book. It’s similar to the one I wrote on the Picts but covers a wider area and a longer timespan. My intention with Makers Of Scotland is to present a narrative history of the northern parts of Britain in the first millennium AD, using a linear chronology from 0-1000. The book inevitably overlaps with The Picts: a History at many points, and with The Men of the North: the Britons of Southern Scotland at several more, but differs from both of these by looking at all the peoples of early medieval Scotland rather than at one particular group.

The chapter headings give an idea of the structure:

Introduction
1 – BC to AD
2 – The Later Roman period
3 – Britons, Picts and Scots
4 – Christian beginnings
5 – Celt and Saxon
6 – The struggle for power
7 – The northern churches
8 – The Vikings
9 – Alba
10 – Kings and bishops
11 – The birth of medieval Scotland
Appendix A: Genealogies
Appendix B: Timeline
Further Reading
Index

The above list shows where the straight linear chronology is interrupted at three points (Chapters 4, 7 and 10) when the spotlight falls on religious developments. Chapter 4 looks at the transition from paganism to Christianity, while the other two chart the expansion of the new Faith and the increasing prominence of an ecclesiastical elite.

With Makers I’ve followed the format of Picts by not including footnotes or endnotes. Instead, it has a 7-page ‘Further Reading’ section presented as a bibliography divided by broad topics such as Roman Scotland and Art & Sculpture.

Illustrations include maps and eight pages of plates (a selection of b&w photographs, with some fine old drawings of Pictish stones by John Romilly Allen).

The very striking cover design is by Jim Hutcheson and Victor Albrow.

Makers of Scotland: Picts, Romans, Gaels and Vikings is published by Birlinn Books of Edinburgh under the John Donald imprint. Paperback, 240 pages. UK price: £14.99.

The book is available at Amazon UK.

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New website for carved stones

Over at my other blog Heart Of The Kingdom I’ve just posted news of a recently launched website about the carved stones at Govan.

This superb collection of early medieval sculpture is a must-see. The famous Sarcophagus and the hogback tombstones alone would make a visit worthwhile, but there are 25 other stones as well. Their home in the old parish church at Govan is an easy place to get to if you’re ever in the Glasgow area with an hour or two to spare.

The new website is part of a major project aimed at improving how the stones are displayed and interpreted. It can be found via a link at my blogpost. Alternatively, go there directly by clicking the image below.

The Govan Stones website

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Recommended reading

To those of you who follow A Corner Of Tenth-Century Europe this will be old news. To the rest, it’s a nudge towards a couple of blogposts by Dr Jonathan Jarrett of the University of Oxford.

Jonathan’s areas of teaching and research touch on many of the topics that pop up here at Senchus. Many of you will recognise his name from a number of posts to which he has contributed via the comment thread. At his blog A Corner of Tenth-Century Europe he has recently posted two items that I recommend to anyone who has an interest in early medieval Scotland. One is a book review; the other a report of a seminar paper.

The reviewed book is James E. Fraser’s From Caledonia to Pictland: Scotland to 795, the first volume in the series The New Edinburgh History of Scotland from Edinburgh University Press. Those of you who are familiar with this book will find Jonathan’s review a useful commentary. Fraser has produced what I regard as an essential text, even if chunks of it don’t chime too well with my own views of the period. Some of his theories about the Britons, for instance, are seriously at odds with what I’ve written in The Men Of The North, particularly on key topics such as Rheged, Catraeth and the Maeatae. Nevertheless, I wholeheartedly recommend Fraser’s book as the best currently available guide through the swirling mists of the fifth to eighth centuries. It’s a bold attempt to draw all the bits and pieces together into a narrative after testing their validity against a rigorous set of criteria. The result isn’t going to please everyone, which is no bad thing in itself. But don’t take my word for it: read what Jonathan says and get an insightful perspective from academia.

The seminar paper was presented last year by Alex Woolf to an audience in Oxford. Woolf is the author of From Pictland to Alba, 789-1070, the second volume in the EUP series mentioned above and another addition to any list of essential reading on early Scottish history. His paper at the Oxford seminar considered (among other things) the influence of socio-economic factors (i.e. trade) in the shift of political power from early centres such as those in Argyll and Galloway to newer ones primarily in the East. Jonathan gives a synopsis and mentions that these ideas are likely to be incorporated into a new book in which Woolf will deal with the period before 800 previously covered by Fraser. This means two books on the same topic, by two leading scholars. The one is unlikely to duplicate the other but will rather give the reader two perspectives that can then be compared, contrasted and critiqued. When this happens, we shall consider ourselves well-served indeed.

Here are the links to Jonathan’s posts:
Review of From Caledonia to Pictland
Report on Alex Woolf’s seminar paper

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Early Medieval Govan

Govan Sarcophagus

The Govan Sarcophagus (Photo © B Keeling)

I recently uploaded a new post at Heart of the Kingdom, my blog about early medieval Govan and the carved stones of the kingdom of Strathclyde. The post takes a look at the distinctive ‘hogback’ tombstones at Govan and compares them with similar monuments at Penrith in Cumbria.

If you haven’t visited Heart of the Kingdom yet, please go over and have a look around. The topics there are obviously quite close to the ones you’ll find here. People who enjoy my Senchus posts about Pictish sculpture, for instance, may be interested to read about the equally impressive (though less well-known) sculptured stones at Govan. Although every post at Heart of the Kingdom is indexed here at Senchus on the topic page for the kingdom of Strathclyde the following list shows the ones published so far:

Hogback tombstones at Govan and Penrith
Govan: a place of assembly
Govan and the kings of Strathclyde
Pigtails and ponytails on early medieval sculpture
A 19th-century illustration of the Govan Sarcophagus
The Sun Stone at Govan
Book review: Anna Ritchie’s Govan and its Carved Stones
People, place and memory: Govan and the kingdom of Strathclyde
What’s in a name? Choosing a name for my new blog

Early Medieval Govan

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People of Early Scotland

People of Early Scotland
In an age of e-books and digitisation it’s good to get the occasional reminder of how incomplete our reading experience would be if all we had were gadgets and gizmos and glowing screens. I had such a reminder quite recently, when my bookshelf made space for a small but delightful item that winged its way down from Brechin. The attractiveness of this slender tome doesn’t start and finish with the front cover (see above) but runs through the ensuing 72 pages, most of which contain illustrations in the form of high-quality drawings or photographs. Renowned archaeologist Anna Ritchie, who wrote the accompanying text, ends her paragraph of acknowledgments by describing the book as ‘a thing of beauty’. I wholeheartedly agree with her assessment.

The book’s title People of Early Scotland means what it says, in a literal sense, for this is essentially a collection of human portraits from the dawn of recorded Scottish history. Some, such as the ‘Mother Goddess’ of Ballachulish or the wolf-masked Pictish shaman from Shetland, are representations of real or supernatural beings associated with pagan rites. Others are portraits from Christian times: a procession of hooded monks carved on one side of a box-shrine; two priests sitting serenely in ornate chairs on a Pictish cross-slab. The secular world is also represented, primarily by images of people engaged in hunting and warfare. In two drawings by artist Ian G Scott we see one of the most vibrant of all Pictish scenes: a noblewoman hunting with servants and hounds on the great cross-slab from Hilton of Cadboll. Riding side-saddle, and with an expensive brooch clasping her cloak, this is clearly a lady who enjoyed the good things in life. She gazes out from the stone, confidently displaying the trappings of wealth that identify her as a member of the Pictish upper class. I imagine her as one of the A-list celebrities of her day, a person whom other folk instantly recognised as soon as they saw her vivid portrait.

A similarly vigorous scene, albeit with a somewhat grimmer theme, appears on an impressive piece of Roman sculpture from the eastern end of the Antonine Wall. Here, the ‘portrait’ depicts a quartet of native warriors – four early inhabitants of Stirlingshire, perhaps – being ridden down by a cavalryman of the Second Legion. On this monument we see the people of early Scotland on the losing side, being stomped by invaders from the south. But a later scene of warfare shows them gaining the upper hand, this time (if we accept the traditional interpretation) in a battle against English warriors from Northumbria. The victory in question was fought near Dun Nechtain (probably Dunnichen Hill in Angus) in 685, and the carved battle-scene appears on a famous Pictish stone at nearby Aberlemno.

That’s enough description from me. I’ll let the rest of the book speak for itself to those who wish to obtain their own copy. For me, it’s a perfectly distilled sample of the things that first got me interested – and which keep me interested – in the early history of Scotland. The finest ingredients are here: text by Anna Ritchie, drawings by Ian G Scott, photographs by Tom Gray, all expertly blended and presented by David Henry of the Pinkfoot Press. This same group was responsible for another attractive little volume called Govan and its Carved Stones which I recently described at my other website. Both books are excellent introductions to their subjects and, when not in use, look pretty good just lying around on a coffee table.

Bibliographical details
Title: People of Early Scotland from contemporary images
Author: Anna Ritchie, with Ian G Scott and Tom E Gray
Date of publication: 2006
ISBN: 1874012504
Publisher: The Pinkfoot Press, Brechin
inbox@pinkfootpress.co.uk

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Discussing Degsastan (again)

In an earlier post I set out my views on the location of the battle of Degsastan, an event described by Bede and dated by him to the year 603. The post attracted a large number of comments, which turned into a useful discussion of the various places that have been proposed as the site of the battlefield. In the end, with more than 70 comments attached to the post, I closed the thread because it had reached what I consider to be its allotted space at this blog.

However, due to continuing interest in the topic and several requests for the discussion to resume, I’m adding this post as an area for new comments. Please feel free to add your views and theories below.

For information, the old discussion can be found via this link.

Some questions we may want to consider:
* Where was Degsastan?
* Is Dawston in Liddesdale a plausible candidate?
* Did the Britons take part in the battle and, if so, on which side did they fight?
* What was the real political outcome of Aethelfrith’s victory?

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The monastery at Dacre

Dacre Church: front entrance and Norman tower.


In February I finally got around to visiting Dacre, a small village on the southeastern fringe of the Lake District in Cumbria. It has been on my ‘get to’ list for a long time, not only because it’s a very picturesque place but also because of its history. In early medieval times the site of the present-day church was occupied by a monastery mentioned by Bede. He described it as being ‘near the river Dacore from which it received its name’, a reference presumably to the Dacre Beck or to the River Eamont into which it flows. Bede referred to a miraculous event that occurred at the monastery in 728, during the abbacy of Swithberht. At that time one of the brethren – a priest called Thrythred – had in his possession a piece of St Cuthbert’s hair. The hair cured a young monk of an untreatable condition that would otherwise have left him blind in one eye. By 731, when Bede published his Ecclesiastical History, the abbacy had passed to this same Thrythred, but this is the last we hear of Dacre until after the Norman Conquest. The names Swithberht and Thrythred are English and indicate that the monastery lay in Anglo-Saxon (i.e. Northumbrian) hands in the early 8th century. However, we do not know the date of foundation, so we cannot assume that the monks had always been English. It is possible, for instance, that the original brethren were Britons who fled in fear of Northumbrian warbands during the conflicts of the previous century.


Dacre Church: Norman arch (12th century).


Excavations in the churchyard in the early 1980s found evidence of the monastery, even though none of its buildings has survived. One early feature was a covered drain running across the southern part of the churchyard. This was found to be lined with shaped stones that may have come from a Roman structure (possibly a bridge) somewhere in the vicinity. Archaeologists also found traces of two timber buildings – one rectangular, the other circular – slightly northwest of the present church. The purpose of these is unknown but the circular one eventually fell into disuse and its space seems to have been given over to metalworking – this, at least, is suggested by the presence of hearths and copper pins. Another discovery was a large cemetery of more than three hundred graves, the majority of which are most likely of pre-10th century date. This is presumably where generations of monks were interred and where the 8th-century abbots Swithberht and Thrythred were laid to rest.

Dacre Church: the southeast corner.


Although little evidence of the daily life of the monastery has survived, a few small items have come to light. These include a writing-stylus, a belt buckle, a gold ring and a Viking coin. Together they provide evidence of a thriving community. Inside the church two sculptured fragments testify to the site’s high status in early medieval times. Both are from cross-shafts that must once have stood within the monastic enclosure. They are, respectively, of 9th and 10th century origin. The smaller of the two is the earlier and is of typical Northumbrian workmanship, with finely detailed carvings of a serpent and a winged lion. Its sculptural style is superior to that of the larger piece which looks unsophisticated by comparison. As soon as I saw this later fragment – which is usually attributed to Norse influence – I was reminded of the similarly crude sculpture of the Strathclyde Britons. The two human figures with linked hands are reminiscent of a pair on a contemporary cross-shaft from Cambusnethan in Lanarkshire, while an animal peering backward is a common motif on several Strathclyde monuments. Thus, although ‘Viking’ is a label often applied to the two Dacre fragments, I wonder if they represent a more complex set of cultural affinities. The monastery may have undergone several changes of ownership – in terms of ecclesiastical jurisdiction and secular patronage – between Bede’s era and the Norman Conquest. In the 9th century it is likely to have been a target of Norse raids and was no doubt affected by the collapse of Anglo-Saxon Northumbria in the 860s. After c.900 its abbot probably became answerable to a new set of local lords, an immigrant elite of Cumbric-speaking Britons installed by the kings of Strathclyde. In 927 one of the Clyde kings attended a royal conference at a place called Eomotum - an unidentified site on the River Eamont. His name was Owain and he was a key player in the political manoeuvring between Viking, English and Celtic powers that eventually led to the great battle of Brunanburh in 937. The Eamont almost certainly marked the southern boundary of Owain’s kingdom and thus an appropriate setting for a meeting of kings. Indeed, Dacre’s position on one of the tributaries of this river led the 12th-century chronicler William of Malmesbury to suggest that the conference took place at the old monastery itself rather than at a site further downstream near the village of Eamont Bridge.

9th-century Northumbrian cross-shaft fragment.


Fragment of cross-shaft (10th century).


Animal and human figures on the 10th-century cross-shaft.


I’ve assigned this blogpost to the category ‘non-Scottish’ but this does not mean that Dacre had no connection with Scotland in early medieval times. Constantin II, one of the most famous kings of Alba, attended the royal meeting in 927 alongside his Strathclyde ally Owain. Both of these rulers can be regarded as ‘Scottish’ in the context of modern political geography. Even if Dacre is not the mysterious Eomotum (and I do not think it is) we cannot assume that it played no part in the meeting. We know it was an important site at the time because of the date of the larger cross-fragment. Perhaps the monastery hosted a religious service for the royal delegates after their high-level political discourse?

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Appendix: The Dacre Bears

The churchyard at Dacre contains four free-standing animal sculptures, each positioned near one corner of the church. Their date and purpose are unknown, but they are usually known as the ‘Dacre Bears’. Three are too weathered to show much detail but the fourth has a mane and a long tail and is probably a lion. Two others appear to be grappling with some kind of smaller animal. What all this means is a complete mystery. Were the ‘bears’ carved in early medieval times, or do they post-date the Norman Conquest? Are they, in fact, of pre-Christian origin?

One of the Dacre Bears.

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Notes & References

The Church of St Andrew, Dacre (2008) [booklet produced by the parish community]. Includes at pp.29-30 an archaeological summary by Rachel Newman, ‘The early history of the church site’.

Bede, Ecclesiastical History of the English People, Book iv, chapter 32.

All photographs in this blogpost are copyright © B Keeling.

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Round-up from the Blogosphere

Shortage of time meant my blogging slowed down last month but I’m looking to get back on track this week. I’ll start with a quick round-up from some other blogs. This is just a small selection of what’s going on at the moment, so I recommend Michelle’s latest round-up at Heavenfield for a wider snapshot. Some of the sites mentioned by Michelle appear in this post.

Over at the Badonicus blog Mak Wilson is publishing a series of posts on the identity of King Arthur and examining the core question of whether we’re dealing with a historical figure or a mythical one, or a combination of the two. This is a comprehensive study of sources and theories so anyone with an Arthurian interest will find it worth a look. Mak offers a balanced treatment of the topic and gives equal space to all sides in the long-running debate about the Historical Arthur. The series is currently up to Part Five.

Perceptions of ‘barbarian’ Celts and Picts is the title of a post by Iain Forbes at his Last of the Druids blog. Iain looks at how the peoples of early medieval Britain are traditionally (and simplistically) presented to schoolchildren as a homogeneous ‘island nation’ who endured wave after wave of invasion by Romans, Anglo-Saxons and Vikings. Iain draws on his own memories of how this period of history was taught in Scottish schools. His recollection of learning about a homogeneous mass of ‘Ancient Britons’ struck a particular chord with me as I made a similar point in a talk I gave at the Wigtown Book Festival in 2010, which turned into a book-launch for The Men of the North.

If you visit Iain’s blog, take a look at the stunning cover-image for his forthcoming book on the Pictish symbol stones. It shows a full-sized replica (carved by master-stonemason Barry Grove) of the Hilton of Cadboll stone from Easter Ross.

The next blogpost here at Senchus will be a report on my recent visit to Dacre in Cumbria, site of an Anglo-Saxon monastery mentioned by Bede. Dacre is one of the places suggested as a venue for the famous royal meeting at Eomotum in 927, an event attended by the English king Athelstan and his fellow-monarchs from Strathclyde and Alba. An excellent summary of the meeting and its geographical context can be found in Diane McIlmoyle’s latest post at her Cumbrian blog. Diane has the advantage of being based near Eomotum (the River Eamont) and speaks from first-hand experience when she discusses the sites suggested as possible venues.

Staying with a Cumbrian theme, Professor Karen Jolly of the University of Hawai’i has a new post at Revealing Words, her blog about tenth-century Northumbria. The post is an update on her search for sites in Cumbria possibly visited by the Northumbrian priest Aldred, a member of the community of St Cuthbert. As well as producing a definitive scholarly edition of Aldred’s glosses on a book of prayers, Karen is writing a novel about him and has posted an extract on her blog.

A novel about early medieval Scotland is due to be launched next month. Chronicles of Iona: Exile looks at the relationship between St Columba and his royal patron Aedan mac Gabrain. Its author, Paula de Fougerolles, is a graduate of the Department of Anglo-Saxon, Norse & Celtic at Cambridge where she undertook her PhD. Exile will be available in e-book format and also in hardcopy and will be followed by Peregrinatio, the second title in the Iona series. An extract from Perigrinatio can be viewed at Paula’s blog.

Another early medievalist turning her hand to historical fiction is V.M. Whitworth who, as Victoria Thompson, wrote the acclaimed Dying and Death in Later Anglo-Saxon England (2004). Her recently published novel The Bone Thief is described on her blog as ‘a historical thriller set in 900 AD, in the immediate aftermath of the death of King Alfred the Great’. It was launched at York during this year’s Jorvik Viking Festival.

At the start of this year I made a resolution to visit Scotland more frequently than I managed in 2011. I need to replenish my stock of photos for this blog and do some exploring around Strathclyde for Heart of the Kingdom and my other research projects on the Britons. I was in Govan last month and will be there again in April but I hope to get to other places, not only to re-visit historical sites but also to attend events. This will happen if various schedules fall into place. An event much further afield but on my ‘get-to’ list for a rather long time is the International Medieval Congress at Kalamazoo in the United States. I always remember the buzz on Ansaxnet (where I used to lurk in the 1990s) whenever the date of ‘Kzoo’ drew near. I really should have made the effort to attend back then, when I probably had more time than I seem to have nowadays. A recent blogpost by Curt Emanuel is a reminder of what I’ve been missing. Although not a professional medievalist Curt is a regular attendee at Kalamazoo and draws on his own happy experience of past congresses to encourage other ‘interested amateurs’ to register for this year’s event. One day, perhaps, I’ll actually make it….

Finally, an opportunity for honest bloggers everywhere to grind their teeth and growl or howl. Theft of our creativity for anonymous re-posting and other unspeakable purposes is one of the prices we pay for an unregulated Internet. It’s a sad but inevitable fact of online life. In his latest blogpost Jonathan Jarrett reports on an instance of his own stuff turning up somewhere else without permission or due credit. Alas, it won’t be the last we hear of this sort of treachery.

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Lady Macbeth

Dame Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth, 1889 (from a painting by J.S. Sargent)


Mael Coluim mac Cinaeda (‘Malcolm, son of Kenneth’) succeeded his cousin Cinaed, son of Dub, as king of Alba in 1005. The succession was apparently contested by the rulers of Moray in the person of Findlaech, son of Ruaidri, who lodged a rival claim for the kingship. Findlaech, the mormaer (‘great steward’) of Moray, was described in the Irish annals as ‘king of Alba’ when they reported his death in 1020. His nephew Mael Coluim, son of Mael Brigte, died nine years later and was likewise accorded the same royal title by the annalists. Both men must have claimed the throne of Alba when its legitimate incumbent was Mael Coluim mac Cinaeda, who reigned from 1005 to 1034. On two occasions, then, the authority of Cinaed’s son was challenged by the lords of Moray.
The kingdom of Alba

The kingdom of Alba


The Moravians themselves appear to have been riven by internal strife. Rivalry between Findlaech and his brother Mael Brigte led to the former’s death at the hands of the latter’s sons. The most likely context was a military struggle for the mormaership. After Findlaech’s slaying in 1020 his murderous nephews – Mael Coluim and Gilla Comgain – ruled Moray for a further twelve years. Mael Coluim was the above-mentioned claimant on the kingship of Alba, the man whose death in 1029 was reported in the Irish annals. After staking his royal claim, as a rival of his namesake Mael Coluim mac Cinaeda, he seems to have appointed his brother Gilla Comgain as mormaer of Moray. But Gilla Comgain was in turn challenged by Findlaech’s son Macbethad, an ambitious individual who was soon to emerge as a key player on the wider political stage. In later centuries Macbethad found greater fame on a different kind of stage, being borrowed by William Shakespeare as the inspiration for his devious character Macbeth. In the meantime, the historical Macbeth made his first appearance around the year 1030, as a challenger to Gilla Comgain’s authority in Moray. This may have prompted Gilla Comgain to strengthen his own position with a political marriage, for his bride was a lady of high royal blood. Her name was Gruoch, daughter of Boite, and she was a close kinswoman of King Mael Coluim mac Cinaeda, perhaps his niece or the daughter of one of his cousins.

Gilla Comgain continued to rule as mormaer of Moray until his death in 1031 or 1032. His grisly demise was noted in the Irish annals:

Gilla Comgain, son of Mael Brigte, mormaer of Moray, was burned together with fifty people.

This was probably the final act in a bitter kin-strife that had started in the previous generation. Although the annalists do not say who was responsible for the burning it was surely the work of Macbethad, who thus became the new mormaer. In a politically astute move he quickly married Gruoch, Gilla Comgain’s widow, thereby linking himself to the royal dynasty of Alba. The marriage also made him stepfather and protector of Gruoch’s son Lulach, Gilla Comgain’s heir, who was probably a small child at the time. Whether Gruoch entered this union willingly or grudgingly is unknown, for the sources give no further information. If, as seems likely, Macbethad was the instigator of her first husband’s death, she might have been his reluctant bride. Alternatively, she might have regarded Macbethad as a useful match for her own ambitions. Did she perhaps play some part in Gilla Comgain’s downfall? Such speculation, although interesting, could all too easily tempt us across the line between fact and fiction, for Gruoch is the historical figure behind the ruthless Lady Macbeth of Shakespeare’s play.

Mormaers of Moray in the 11th Century


Macbethad’s career was as dramatic as any playwright’s narrative. Within months of his seizure of power in Moray he joined Mael Coluim mac Cinaeda, the king of Alba, in a pledge of fealty to King Cnut of England. In the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, which placed this event under the year 1031, Macbethad is described as a king. The label need not be taken at face value, for it is unlikely that he had launched a bid for the throne of Alba at so early a date. Indeed, he may have continued to rule Moray not as a potential rival to Mael Coluim but as a loyal subordinate or vassal guarding an important territory on the king’s northern frontier.

Gruoch’s kinship with the royal dynasty would have proved useful to Macbethad. It brought him closer to the centres of power and would have enabled him to forge useful alliances at the king’s court. His wife’s connections with the ruling elite undoubtedly helped him gather support for the coup d’etat which would one day elevate him to the throne. But he nurtured his ambitions slowly and carefully, biding his time until the right moment. Thus, after Mael Coluim’s death in 1034 brought his grandson Donnchad (‘Duncan’) to power, Macbethad gave his allegiance to the new king and played the role of loyal henchman. He eventually made his move in the summer of 1040, not long after Donnchad suffered a humiliating defeat at the hands of the English. The Irish chronicler Marianus Scotus, writing forty years later, gave a near-contemporary account of Donnchad’s fall:

Donnchad, king of Scots, was killed in the autumn, on 14 August, by his dux Macbethad son of Findlaech, who succeeded to the kingdom for seventeen years.

In this context, the Latin term dux (‘duke’) might be an attempt by Marianus to translate Gaelic mormaer. In a more general sense it indicates that Donnchad was slain during the revolt of a subordinate lord. It was this deed of treachery that prompted later Scottish writers, and eventually Shakespeare himself, to cast Macbethad in the role of villain. In an 11th-century context, however, the toppling of a king by an ambitious rival was a normal method of regime-change.

Her husband’s victory made Gruoch the most powerful woman in Alba. She was now the Queen of Scots, a position she may have coveted from afar during her years of marriage to two successive lords of Moray. As queen, she would have played an important part in the smooth running of royal business. She would have had her own entourage of courtiers and retainers, as well as her own network of clients and friends. At times she would have accompanied the king on his periodic tours of the realm, and we have documentary evidence of this in a charter to which she bore witness alongside her husband. The document in question recorded a gift of land to the monastery of Loch Leven in Fife. Its scribe began by naming the royal benefactors: Machbet filius Finlach …. et Gruoch filia Bodhe, Rex et Regina Scottorum (‘Macbethad, son of Findlaech …. and Gruoch, daughter of Boite, King and Queen of Scots’).

In late 1049 or early 1050, Macbethad embarked on a pilgrimage to Rome. This was not an unusual task for a king from the British Isles to undertake. Others had made the same journey before him, seeking forgiveness for past sins by visiting the Eternal City. Most royal pilgrims were in their later years, or had already offloaded the reins of power to designated heirs. Macbethad was certainly a man of middle age when he began his pilgrimage. From a rough chronology of his career we can deduce that he was around fifty years old. It is likely that Gruoch did not accompany him, and that she stayed at home to maintain a royal presence at court. How much authority might then have been delegated to her in Macbethad’s absence is hard to say but he must have trusted her to support his kingship while he was away. This is actually a key point, because potential royal claimants were surely lurking in the wings. The probability that Macbethad left his wife behind suggests that he had no doubts about her political loyalty. It might also suggest that he perceived little or no threat from Lulach, Gruoch’s son by Gilla Comgain, whose own claim on the throne she might otherwise have promoted.

Macbethad thus returned from Rome to find his kingship still intact. He resumed his reign and faced no serious challenge to his position for a number of years. His subjects clearly respected him, as did folk living beyond the borders of Alba. Ambitious warriors from other lands were attracted to his court, perhaps because he gave rich rewards for military service. One group of Norman adventurers, having been made unwelcome in England, travelled north to place their swords at his disposal. These men died in battle in 1054, fighting to defend Macbethad from an English invasion which succeeded in casting him from the throne. The architect of his defeat was Earl Siward of Northumbria, a powerful henchman of the English king Edward the Confessor. What happened to Macbethad in the aftermath is not recorded but he may have sought refuge among his kinsmen in Moray, unless he found a safer haven elsewhere. Wherever he went, we can be fairly sure that Gruoch and her son accompanied him. Siward, meanwhile, appointed a man called Mael Coluim as the new king of Alba. Despite his Gaelic name, this Mael Coluim was a prince of the Strathclyde Britons. His eligibility for kingship of the Scots must nevertheless have derived from ancestry, and his name seems to hint at mixed Gaelic-British parentage. His father was the king of Strathclyde; perhaps his mother was a royal princess of Alba?

Mael Coluim’s reign did not last long. His position would have weakened considerably after Siward’s death in 1055. With the menace of the Northumbrian earl removed, Macbethad was able to expel Mael Coluim and take back the throne. He ruled for a few more years until his own death at the battle of Lumphanan in 1058. His nemesis was Mael Coluim mac Donnchadha, a figure otherwise known as ‘Malcolm Canmore’ (Gaelic ceann mor, ‘big head’). Mael Coluim’s victory thus avenged the slaying of his father, King Donnchad, whom Macbethad had destroyed eighteen years earlier.

We do not know what happened to Gruoch in the wake of her husband’s death. Her son Lulach seems to have held the kingship of Alba for a few months until he, too, was defeated and slain by Mael Coluim. Widowed and alone, Gruoch may have found herself at the mercy of the new king. Her fate would then have depended on her usefulness as a dowager queen, a royal lady of wealth and influence – if indeed she could be persuaded to pledge allegiance to Mael Coluim. The fact that she was his kinswoman, a female elder of the royal dynasty, would not have guaranteed her survival. Against whatever political value she still retained was the threat she undoubtedly posed to the stability of the realm. She might, for instance, become a figurehead for disgruntled supporters of Macbethad, especially in Moray where Mael Coluim’s authority was unlikely to have been strong. So what were her options, if indeed she was not murdered, or chased out of the kingdom, or imprisoned in some dark dungeon? If she somehow managed to survive the upheavals of 1058 she may have been allowed to enter monastic retirement, becoming the abbess of a religious house to which she had been a benefactor in former times. Alternatively, she may have simply retired to one of her estates, in semi-exile from the royal court, quietly living out her remaining years as a relic of past troubles.

Probable ancestry of Gruoch, daughter of Boite.


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References

Archibald Duncan, The Kingship of the Scots, 842-1292 (Edinburgh, 2002), p.32.

Benjamin Hudson, Kings of Celtic Scotland (Westport, 1994), pp.136-8.

William Kapelle, The Norman Conquest of the North (London,1979), pp.41-2.

Archibald Lawrie (ed.), Early Scottish Charters prior to 1153 (Glasgow, 1905), pp.5-6.

Alex Woolf, From Pictland to Alba, 789-1070 (Edinburgh, 2007), pp.247 & 255-65.

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Vikings and other things

Dingwall, Easter Ross

A view of Dingwall by I. Clark (1824).


Interesting news from Dingwall in Easter Ross which is soon to get a new visitor centre celebrating its rich Viking heritage. The town is located at the mouth of the River Peffery, hence its Gaelic name Inbhir Pheofaran, and was once a thriving port giving access to the Cromarty Firth. Dingwall is a name of Norse origin meaning ‘field of the thing’ (thing = ‘assembly’) and indicates a public meeting-place where disputes were settled and judgments pronounced. The venue was most likely a substantial artificial mound in the vicinity of the old parish church of St Clement’s. No trace of the mound survives today but archaeologists believe that the site is now occupied by the Cromartie Memorial Car Park.

The recent archaeological survey and the new heritage centre are linked to a wider initiative called the THING Project (the acronym means ‘Thing Sites International Networking Group’). This involves agencies and experts from Scottish regions such as Orkney and Shetland which were intensively settled by Vikings, together with partners from Iceland, the Faroe Islands, the Isle of Man and Norway itself. Among the project’s long-term aims is a nomination for the thing sites as a group entry on the UNESCO list of World Heritage sites.

More information on these interesting developments can be found via these links:

Heritage hub for Dingwall (Highland Council/Dingwall History Society)

Norse heritage and thing site (Dingwall Business Association)

THING Project

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