Restoration of St Oran’s Cross

Iona, St Orans Cross

St Oran’s Cross: front and back of the upper arm (photographs by J.B. Mackenzie in J.R. Allen & J. Anderson The Early Christian Monuments of Scotland, 1903)


News of an interesting project relating to St Columba and the monastery on Iona. This year – the 1450th anniversary of the monastery’s foundation – the museum at Iona Abbey will be unveiling the newly restored St Oran’s Cross.

Standing more than 11 feet tall, this magnificent free-standing cross is one of the finest early medieval monuments in Scotland. It was carved in the 8th century, probably at the request of a king, and would have been a prominent feature in the monastic precinct. In more recent times it has lain in a horizontal position in the Iona Abbey museum, broken into five pieces. Experts from Historic Scotland have put the pieces together and will re-erect the cross as part of a new exhibition of Iona’s carved stones. Visitors will then be able to fully appreciate how impressive this monument must have looked during the monastery’s heyday.

For further information, see this article at The Scotsman website and the entry for St Oran’s Cross on the Canmore database.

For a good illustration of the carvings, take a look at Ian G Scott’s brilliant drawing.

I am grateful to Michelle Ziegler for pointing me to a news item at medievalists.net.

I’ve written about the history of Iona in my recent book on Saint Columba.

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The lively maiden of Dumbarton

Clyde Rock & Dumbarton Castle

Clyde Rock, Dumbarton (from ‘Souvenir of Scotland’, 1892)


A number of medieval Welsh manuscripts contain information relating to the Cumbri or North Britons, the native Celtic people of Northern England and Southern Scotland. One of these is ‘Peniarth 47′, written in the 15th century and preserved at the National Library of Wales. It contains a collection of ‘triads’ – brief texts in which three items from the medieval storytelling tradition are grouped under a common theme. Triads were used by the bards of Wales as a kind of subject index to a huge repertoire of poems and stories originally retained in their own memories.

Some triads listed famous events, such as ‘Three Futile Battles of the Island of Britain’. Others listed military forces such as ‘Three Faithful Warbands’ or renowned individuals such as ‘Three Chieftains of Arthur’s Court’. One triad refers to a trio of notable young women:

‘Three Lively Maidens of the Island of Britain’
Angharad Ton Velen, daughter of Rhydderch Hael,
and Afan, daughter of Meic Thick-Hair,
and Perwyr, daughter of Rhun of Great Wealth.

Afan’s father Meic (sometimes spelled ‘Maig’) was reputedly a 6th-century ruler of Powys, a part of Wales bordering the territory of the Anglo-Saxons or English. Not much is known about him, although the district of Meigen in Powys might preserve his name.

Perwyr’s father Rhun is identified in Welsh tradition as a prince of the North Britons and as a son of the famous warrior-king Urien Rheged (active c.580). Contrary to popular belief, the precise location of Rheged is unknown. It is no more than a modern guess that the name refers to a kingdom rather than to a smaller territorial unit such as a river-valley or group of estates.

One of Urien’s contemporaries among the North Britons was Rhydderch, king of Alt Clut, whose epithet Hael means ‘Generous’. Alt Clut (‘Rock of Clyde’) is an old Welsh and North British name for the imposing, twin-peaked volcanic ‘plug’ where Dumbarton Castle stands today. Rhydderch reigned in the late 6th and early 7th centuries and is one of the most recognizable figures in medieval Welsh literature, a key player in the so-called North British Heroic Age. Peering behind his literary fame among later Welsh bards we are probably seeing a powerful king of the early medieval period, a competent warlord who launched plundering raids against his neighbours. His adversaries apparently included Anglo-Saxons, Scots and fellow-Britons. Among his network of high-level contacts were Saint Columba of Iona and, less certainly, Saint Kentigern of Glasgow. In later Welsh folklore Rhydderch emerges as an oppressor of Merlin during the latter’s time as a ‘Wild Man’ in the forest.

According to the triad of the Three Lively Maidens, Rhydderch had a daughter Angharad. Although we know very little about her, we cannot assume she was nothing more than a literary invention. It is entirely possible that she was a real princess of Dumbarton, a genuine historical figure like her father. Her epithet Ton Velen (‘Yellow Skin’ or ‘Yellow Wave’) denotes a defining physical characteristic and must have originated in a poem or story in which she featured. This tale, although now lost, was presumably well-known among the bards of medieval Wales and may have been circulating for a long time before it got ‘catalogued’ in the triad.

Some of the earliest and most famous examples of Welsh poetry and saga originated in what the bards called Yr Hen Ogledd, ‘The Old North’, the land of Urien Rheged and Rhydderch Hael. It is possible that the poem or tale featuring Angharad Ton Velen originated in this region rather than in Wales, either to praise her while she lived or as an elegy following her death. Such a tribute may have been composed by a bard at the royal court of Alt Clut, perhaps in the years around 600.

In the absence of additional information about Angharad we can do no more than sketch a hazy picture of her life.

Her name means ‘much loved’ and is pronounced ‘Ann-Harrad’ (stressed on the second syllable). Traditions of uncertain reliability, preserved at Glasgow Cathedral in the twelfth century, identify Rhydderch Hael’s wife as Languoreth, Queen of Alt Clut. This lady, who may have been a native of the Hamilton area, was presumably Angharad’s mother. The same traditions mention a son of Rhydderch called Constantine, who gave up the secular life to become a priest. He and Angharad are the only offspring credited to Rhydderch and, although neither is historically secure, they are not necessarily fictional. Constantine is the namesake of the mysterious saint commemorated in the dedication of the old parish church at Govan, 12 miles east of Dumbarton, and the two are perhaps one and the same.

Let us assume, for the moment, that Angharad existed. A tentative chronological guess would place her birth in the period 570-590. As a princess of Alt Clut she would have been a Christian like her father (and, no doubt, her mother too). During her early years, until she was old enough to marry, her time would have been divided between the old fortress on the summit of Clyde Rock and other royal residences visited by her father’s entourage. Displays of wealth and status were an important part of early medieval kingship and a royal daughter was expected to play her part. We can imagine Angharad wearing jewellery of gold and silver, and clothes woven from the finest fabrics. In her father’s feasting hall she would have eaten roast meat served in expensive bowls manufactured in France. The wine in her drinking-cup would have been imported from the Mediterranean lands. Servants and slaves would have been ever-present throughout her entire life.

Later Welsh bards regarded Angharad as a ‘lively maiden’ (whatever that means). A particular characteristic of her physical appearance was Ton Velen, for which we may envisage either a striking mane of curly blonde hair (‘Yellow Wave’) or an unusually sallow complexion (‘Yellow Skin’). The late Rachel Bromwich, to whom we owe a huge debt of gratitude for her magisterial study of the Welsh triads, interpreted Ton Velen as ‘Yellow (or tawny) Wave’, noting that ‘the reference may be to the girl’s hair’. This is reminiscent of the Gaelic word buide, which also means ‘yellow’, borne as an epithet by the Dál Riatan king Eochaid Buide (died 629) a son of Áedán mac Gabráin. Eochaid evidently received the epithet very early in life, for we find it being used by Columba when he greeted Áedán’s sons at a time when Eochaid was a small child. A number of sources suggest that Áedán fought at least one major battle against Angharad’s father Rhydderch.

Like Angharad, Eochaid is usually assumed to have had ‘yellow’ (i.e. blond) hair, but alternative interpretations of buide are possible. Eochaid and Angharad seem to have belonged to the same generation, and either or both may have had strikingly fair hair or, if ‘yellow’ is a reference to complexion, unusually sallow skin.

If Angharad survived the many perils of childhood to become a teenager she would probably have had little say in her future when the time came to choose a husband. As the daughter of a powerful king she was not only a lady of high status and considerable wealth but also a useful political commodity. Marriage to a prince of a foreign kingdom seems a likely scenario, the wedding perhaps putting a formal seal on a newly forged political alliance. Such a marriage would have taken the ‘lively maiden’ away from her lofty home on the Rock of Clyde, perhaps to a strange new land whose speech and customs she found totally unfamiliar.

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Notes & References

In modern Britain, the most well-known bearer of the name Angharad was the Welsh actress Angharad Rees (1944-2012), who starred in the popular 1970s TV series Poldark.

More pronunciations of Welsh (and North British) personal names:
Rhydderch – ‘Hrutherkh’
Rhun – ‘Rhinn’
Urien – ‘Irri-yen’

Five years ago, Andrew Breeze suggested that ‘Languoreth’ might be an error for ‘Iunguoret’ (or ‘Unwared’ in Modern Welsh).
[See his article 'Telleyr, Anguen, Gulath, and the Life of St Kentigern' Scottish Language 27 (2008), 71-80.]

Rachel Bromwich (ed. & transl.), Trioedd Ynys Prydein: The Welsh Triads. 2nd edition* (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1978).
The triad of the Three Lively Maidens appears on page 199 as ‘Triad 79′.
Professor Bromwich briefly discussed Angharad Ton Velen in the extensive ‘Notes to personal names’ (at page 270).
* I haven’t consulted the 3rd edition for this blogpost.

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This post is part of the Kingdom of Strathclyde series:

Kingdom of Strathclyde

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New book on Saint Columba

Columba
This is my fourth book, a biographical study of Saint Columba, the founder of Iona. Like my previous books it draws on primary and secondary sources to present a narrative history of its subject. In this case the main primary source (Adomnán’s Life of St Columba) is so central to the narrative that its author features almost as prominently as Columba himself. In fact, I’ve used Adomnán as my chief guide. My narrative sticks fairly closely to the Life throughout the first part of the book, which deals with Columba’s career in Ireland and Scotland. The second part looks at Columba’s legacy: the cult that grew around him and the federation of churches that regarded him as their patron.

One aspect of Columba’s story that particularly interests me is his interaction with secular powers, especially with ambitious rulers such as his kinsman Áed mac Ainmerech in Ireland, Áedán mac Gabráin of Dal Riata and the Pictish king Bridei. His relationships with these three, and with other powerful lords, are examined in this book, as are his dealings with folk of lesser social status.

Contents
Introduction: Finding Columba
Chapter 1 – The Sources
Chapter 2 – From Ireland to Iona
Chapter 3 – King Áedán
Chapter 4 – Abbot
Chapter 5 – Iona and her Neighbours
Chapter 6 – The Picts
Chapter 7 – Saint
Chapter 8 – Paruchia and Familia
Chapter 9 – Legacy

Like my second book The Men of the North: the Britons of Southern Scotland, this one has detailed references which are gathered into a Notes section at the rear, with an accompanying bibliography. Illustrations include maps and black-and-white photographs.

Columba is published in Edinburgh by John Donald. It is available from Amazon UK and Amazon US.

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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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Oswald and the Rock of Blood

King Oswald of Northumbria

Oswald, king of Northumbria (from a drawing of the 12th century Hildesheim Reliquary)

The English king Aethelfrith of Bernicia was slain in battle in 616 or 617. His defeat allowed his rival, Prince Edwin, to replace him as overking of Northumbria. Edwin’s ancestral kingdom was Deira, the southern part of Northumbria, but he quickly seized power in Bernicia and drove Aethelfrith’s family into exile.

Aethelfrith’s children sought sanctuary among the Celtic peoples of the North. One son, Eanfrith, came to the Picts, while other siblings found refuge with the Scots. At that time, the ethnic label ‘Scots’ applied to a number of Gaelic-speaking groups in mainland Argyll and the Inner Hebrides. They were divided into various small kingdoms, each dominated by one or more high-status families known as cenéla. Together these kingdoms comprised a region or overkingdom called Dál Riata, which included most of Argyll together with part of northern Ireland. One of the most powerful cenéla ruled the long peninsula of Kintyre. Its members claimed descent from Gabrán, an earlier king who lived around the middle of the sixth century. At the time of Aethelfrith’s defeat, this family was starting to call itself Cenél nGabráin, ‘Gabrán’s Descendants’. Its king was Eochaid Buide (‘Yellow’ or ‘Blond’ Eochaid), a grandson of Gabrán, and it was to him that the young Bernician princes and princesses came seeking shelter and protection.

Map of North Britain, c.600 AD

Among the English exiles was Oswald, a boy of eleven or twelve when he arrived in Dál Riata. Seventeen years later, he would return to his homeland to reclaim his father’s kingship. In the meantime, he dwelt among the Scots as an honoured guest of King Eochaid. He became a Christian and learned the Gaelic language. In his teens he probably repaid his foster-father’s hospitality by fighting as a Cenél nGabráin warrior. He may have travelled extensively throughout Eochaid’s domains, not only on military ventures but also as a member of the king’s entourage on visits to outlying districts. As a high-status Christian convert he most likely visited the monastery of Iona on more than one occasion. But where else did he reside during these years of exile?

Like many early medieval kings, Eochaid Buide would have maintained several residences in different parts of his kingdom. He and his family, together with their entourage of friends, priests, servants and bodyguards, would have used these places at particular times of the year, such as Easter and Christmas, or during periodic tours of the lands under his authority. Some residences served specific purposes as ceremonial venues where the king’s vassal-lords offered homage and tribute. Others had sacred or religious significance, or were associated with revered ancestors of the royal dynasty. One place that seems to fall into this second category was an imposing sea-girt fortress at the southern tip of Kintyre. On modern maps it is usually marked as the site of Dunaverty Castle.

Few traces of the castle now remain. It was occupied in medieval times as a stronghold of the Macdonalds and was the scene of an infamous massacre in the 17th century. Like many coastal promontory fortresses it was built in a commanding position on top of a great mass of rock. At Dunaverty this bulky foundation has a strange, irregular shape that makes it particularly distinctive, especially when viewed from a distance. Memories of the massacre of 1647 were slow to fade and the site is still known as the Rock of Blood.

Dunaverty

Dunaverty: view from the west.

The slaughter of 300 members of Clan Donald was the grim climax in a siege by Cromwellian forces led by General Leslie. It was the last of a number of assaults dating back to the 13th century, when an Anglo-Norman lord, an ancestor of Clan Bissett, seized the castle during the reign of the Scottish king Alexander II (1214-49). Five hundred years before Alexander succeeded to the throne, the Irish annals noted the first recorded attack on Dunaverty:

712 Obsessio Aberte apud Selbacum (‘Siege of Aberte by Selbach’)

Selbach was an ambitious Gaelic king whose core domains lay in Lorn, the district around present-day Oban. He belonged to Cenél Loairn, a powerful family who competed with Cenél nGabráin for the overkingship of Dál Riata in the late seventh and early eighth centuries. In 712 he attacked and burned the Cenél nGabráin fortress at Tarbert in central Kintyre before laying siege to Aberte. Although the annalists tell us little about the geography of these campaigns there is little doubt that Aberte was an ancient stronghold on the rock of Dunaverty. The latter name is an Anglicised form of Gaelic Dun Abhartaigh, ‘Abhartach’s Fort’. In the 8th century this would have been written as Dun Abartaig.

Dunaverty: modern buildings on the slipway below the Rock.

A little further along the shore, but still within sight of watchers on the Rock of Blood, lies a place called Keil Point. The caves in the cliffs behind are signposted as a tourist attraction, as are the nearby ruins of St Columba’s Chapel. On a small outcrop next to the chapel two shallow footprints have been carefully carved in the stone. They are known today as ‘St Columba’s Footprints’ and, like the caves, are regularly visited by tourists. One carving is relatively modern, having been made in the 19th century, but the other is much older. The outcrop was almost certainly used in past times as a sacred place of inauguration. A new king or chieftain would have placed his foot in the ancient footprint to signify his bond with the land. A similar, more famous footprint can be seen on the summit of Dunadd, a hillfort situated somewhat north of Kintyre on the road to Oban. In the early eighth century, when Selbach and his sons stood at the height of their power, Dunadd was one of the main strongholds of their family. It is likely that the footprint on the summit was used in Selbach’s inauguration ceremony when he became king of Cenél Loairn (c.701) and likewise by his son Dungal in 723. The footprint at Keil Point in southern Kintyre surely served the same ceremonial purpose for the kings of Cenél nGabráin. If so, then the nearby fortress of Dun Abartaig was probably their main centre of power.

Dunaverty

Dunaverty: view from the summit, looking towards the slipway.

Dunaverty

The summit of the Rock, viewed from the northeast.

The photographs accompanying this post were taken ten years ago during a holiday in Kintyre. They give an idea of the impressive setting of ancient Dun Abartaig and the castle that succeeded it. As with many centres of power in early medieval Scotland the habitable area on the summit is fairly small but to me there seems little doubt that this is one of the places where the young Prince Oswald lived among his Cenél nGabráin foster-kin. It might even have been the royal residence he and his siblings regarded as their main ‘home’ during the long years of exile from Bernicia.

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Notes

* Cenél nGabráin is pronounced ‘Kenel Navrain’

* The identification of Aberte as Dunaverty is usually credited to William Reeves in his edition of Adomnán’s Life of St Columba (Dublin, 1857). It was supported by W.F. Skene later in the same century, by Alan Orr Anderson in 1922, by the place-name scholar William Watson in 1926 and, more recently, by James Fraser in 2009 (to name but four).

* On Oswald’s exile see two articles by Michelle Ziegler in The Heroic Age: The Politics of Exile in Early Northumbria and Oswald and the Irish. Michelle has also posted a useful Oswald bibliography at her Heavenfield blog.

* On Selbach of Cenél Loairn and his rivalry with Cenél nGabráin see James Fraser, From Caledonia to Pictland: Scotland to 795 (Edinburgh, 2009), pp.273-4 and 282-5.

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Terminology topics 3: Dál Riata

The Irish annals, in entries referring to the 7th and 8th centuries, use the title rex Dáil Riata (‘king of Dál Riata’) to describe a number of Argyll-based rulers. These kings originated in different parts of Argyll but each appears to have gained sovereignty over the whole region. At first glance, the implication seems to be that ancient Argyll, the land of the Gaelic-speaking Scots, comprised a single large realm called Dál Riata (also known as Dál Riada). This fits the picture presented by Bede in the early 8th century. In his Ecclesiastical History of the English People, Bede told of a man called Reuda who led the Scots from an original homeland in Ireland to a new domain in northwestern Britain. Reuda and his people (whom Bede says are ‘still called Dalreudini’ in c.730) acquired land from the native Picts ‘either by friendly treaty or by the sword’ (HE, i, 1). Bede evidently believed – or wanted his readers to believe – that the Dalreudini were a homogeneous people ruled by a single paramount leader from whom they took their name. It is likely that this story was invented by the Picts as their own way of explaining why their neighbours in Argyll spoke Gaelic, the language of Ireland. The story probably came to Jarrow, where Bede lived as a monk, in the early 700s via the monastery’s Pictish contacts. Later, the Scots themselves created their own ‘origin legend’, tracing their kings back to a king called Fergus Mór who supposedly flourished around AD 500. Like Reuda, Fergus was portrayed as a mighty ancestor who led his people from Ireland to Britain. This idea of a large-scale influx of Irish migrants turning Argyll into a Gaelic-speaking colony became the accepted view of Scottish origins until the end of the 20th century.

Legendary origin of the Scots

Ireland to Argyll: the Scottish origin-legend

A closer examination of the sources reveals a different picture. The notion of Dál Riata as a homogeneous regional kingdom collapses. Instead, we see a patchwork of smaller realms, each with its own king, jostling one another for positions of dominance. Kingship was monopolised by powerful extended families called cenéla, some of whom fragmented into sub-kindreds who eventually became rivals. This seems to have been the normal state of affairs in Argyll from the late 6th century to the middle of the 8th (when much of the region fell under Pictish dominance). Collectively, the cenéla and their little kingdoms represented the geographical entity ‘Dál Riata’ but they were never united politically and were probably not brought together under a regional overking until the last quarter of the 7th century. Even then, their artificial unity was fragile and temporary, its weakness being starkly highlighted when the Pictish king Oengus (Onuist) launched a full-scale invasion of Argyll in the 730s.

Kindreds of Dal Riata

The leading kindreds of Dál Riata

The long-held belief that Dál Riata was founded as an Irish colony also collapses when the sources are closely examined. In an earlier blogpost on Scottish origins I looked at this topic alongside the archaeology of Argyll. Here, my focus turns to Ireland, to the northern coastlands of County Antrim. Like Argyll, this area was known in early medieval times as Dál Riata. Historians long assumed it to be the original homeland of the Scots, the place where the legendary ancestors Fergus and Reuda came from. Such a belief is now regarded as obsolete. Archaeological data and a more critical approach to the textual sources suggest that the Scots were not descended from Irish immigrants but were indigenous to Britain. Gaelic was spoken in Argyll because it was the common language of the northwestern seaways, not because it was imported from Ireland by colonists who expelled the native Britons or Picts. The Scots were the native people of Argyll, just as the Picts were indigenous to Perthshire or the Britons to the Clyde Valley. Some Scots lived in northern Ireland; others lived in northern Britain. Their ancestral territory straddled a network of shorelands and seaways from Antrim in the south to Lochaber in the north. Within this large maritime area a number of small kingdoms had emerged by AD 650, their kings eventually competing for a regional supremacy represented in the sources by the Latin title rex Dáil Riata.

Dal Riata

Dál Riata: homeland of the Scots

References

The primary sources are the Irish annals (which incorporate the lost ‘Iona Chronicle’) and two 8th-century Dál Riatan texts:
Cethri primchenéla Dáil Riata (‘The four principal kindreds of Dál Riata’) and Miniugud senchusa fher nAlban (‘Explanation of the genealogy of the men of Alba’)

The most accessible modern discussions of the various texts and legends can be found in the first two volumes of the New Edinburgh History of Scotland: James Fraser’s From Caledonia to Pictland (2009) and Alex Woolf’s From Pictland to Alba (2007).

For detailed studies see:

David Dumville, ‘Cethri Prímchenéla Dáil Riata’, Scottish Gaelic Studies 20 (2000), 170-91
James Fraser, ‘The Iona Chronicle, the descendants of Aedán mac Gabraín and the Principal Kindreds of Dál Riata’, Northern Studies, 38 (2004), 77-96
David Dumville, ‘Ireland and North Britain in the earlier Middle Ages: contexts for Miniugud Senchasa Fher nAlban’, pp.185-211 in C. O’Baoill and N. McGuire (eds.), Rannsachadh na Gáidhlig 2000 (Aberdeen, 2002)

A ‘Pictish’ woman of Skye: Coblaith of Cenél nGartnait

A number of powerful families competed for wealth and status in Argyll and the Hebridean seaways during the 6th, 7th and 8th centuries. In Gaelic sources of Scottish and Irish origin we find some of these kindreds identified by the name of an ancestor, usually prefixed by Cenél (‘Descendants of…’). This was commonly translated as gens or genus in contemporary Latin texts. Until recently, most historians understood Gaelic cenél (plural: cenéla) as a term denoting a kindred of Scots, the Gaelic-speaking inhabitants of Argyll. Long-established ideas about ethnic and linguistic divisions reinforced this belief and ensured that other inhabitants of the Hebridean zone, such as Picts, were assumed not to be grouped in cenéla. Picts and other ‘non-Scots’ were generally regarded by historians as speakers of languages other than Gaelic. This kind of simplified ethnic labelling underpinned Scottish early medieval studies throughout the twentieth century but is now increasingly seen as unhelpful and obsolete. The change is largely due to a more rigorous approach to the sources, several of which have been thoroughly prodded and pulled apart to see what their authors were actually trying to say. One result of this long-overdue purge is an understanding that the boundaries between the Scots of Argyll and their Hebridean ‘Pictish’ neighbours were too blurred to be marked with firm pen-strokes on our maps of western Scotland. The region’s linguistic and cultural affiliations were unlikely to have been static or monolithic. Shifting allegiances, political rivalries, transient hegemonies and personal ambitions will have influenced how ‘Scots’ and ‘Picts’ viewed one another at any one time. Under such circumstances the ethnicity of a king or chieftain was probably less important to his neighbours than the level of threat he posed to their interests. Whether he or they were Scots or Picts was surely an issue of far lower priority.

In this post I want to focus on one particular group, a single high-status kindred, who provide a good example of the blurred ethnic picture. Its members comprised a Hebridean cenél who came to prominence in the second half of the 7th century. The monks of Iona called this family ‘Gens (or Genus) Garnaith’, a name meaning ‘Gartnait’s Descendants’. Historians now recognise this as a rendering into Latin of an original Gaelic name: Cenél nGartnait. In a series of chronicle entries written on Iona, later incorporated into the Irish annals, this cenél was strongly associated with Skye. It evidently ruled some part of the island but whether its personnel were indigenes, long-established immigrants or recent incomers is unknown.

Several generations of Gartnait’s family became embroiled in a prolonged conflict on Skye with another group whose leaders apparently came from elsewhere. The main protagonists on both sides were named by the Iona chroniclers and will be mentioned here in due course. Unsurprisingly, in an era when patriarchal societies were the norm, all of these warlords and chieftains were male. It would be easy to select one of them as a key player and weave this blogpost around him. Instead, I have chosen the only woman mentioned in the entire sequence of events, an obscure figure whose possible significance has hitherto been overlooked. Here, I intend to give her a more visible presence by musing on the role she may have played in her family’s political dealings. Her name was Coblaith and she was a member of Cenél nGartnait. She is the earliest named female inhabitant of Skye known to history.

We do not know when Coblaith was born but a date in the 650s seems plausible. Her grandfather Gartnait, a man selected by his descendants as an important ancestor, was the son of an obscure figure called Accidán whose lifetime probably spanned the end of the 6th century and the beginning of the 7th. Nothing is known of Accidán but his family made their first appearance in recorded history in 643 when the Iona annalists noted the death of one of his sons, a man bearing the distinctly Pictish name Talorc. The circumstances of Talorc’s passing are unknown but it was followed a year later by the violent demise of Iarnbodb, son of Gartnait. If Iarnbodb’s father was the same man as Gartnait, son of Accidán, then Iarnbodb was Talorc’s nephew and Coblaith’s uncle. Iarnbodb died by burning, an event which the annalists regarded as significant enough to note. His death was probably no tragic mishap caused by an untended hearth in his timbered hall. To be noted in the annals it must have been newsworthy for the monks of Iona, perhaps even relevant to their monastery’s political interests. Did Iarnbodb perish at the hands of enemies who attacked his residence with fire? Were these enemies associated in some way with Iona’s secular patrons?

Our attention now runs five years ahead to 649, to a Gaelic entry in the annals:

Cocath hUae nAedhain & Gartnaith mc. Accidain
‘War between the grandsons of Aedán and Gartnait, son of Accidán’

The grandsons mentioned here were those of Aedán mac Gabraín, a powerful warrior-king who carved a large hegemony or imperium in the late 6th and early 7th centuries. Aedán’s family comprised one of the major cenéla of Argyll and are more usually known as Cenél nGabraín. In so far as we may wish to place them in an ethnic or ethnolinguistic category they were Gaelic-speaking Scots of the maritime region commonly called Dál Riata or Dalriada. The heartland of Cenél nGabraín lay on the long peninsula of Kintyre but the principal royal church was some distance away on the isle of Iona off the western coast of Mull. Neither the annals nor any other source tells us the cause of Cenél nGabraín’s war against Gartnait, nor are we told where it took place. It was probably characterised by raids and counter-raids, as the two sides competed for territory and influence. At some point Gartnait disappears from history but his heirs and descendants, Cenél nGartnait, fought on under the leadership of his sons. One phase of hostilities seems to have ended in 668 when the Iona annalists noted the following event :

nauigatio filiorum Gartnaidh ad Hiberniam cum plebe Sceth
‘The voyage of Gartnait’s sons to Ireland with the people of Skye’

Here we see an event recorded in Latin rather than in Gaelic. The choice of language is significant – it might reflect a different attitude or emphasis on the part of an annalist or of a later scribe – but this is a large topic in itself and I won’t delve into it here. My main concern in this post is the story of Coblaith and her relatives in so far as the sources felt a need to reveal it – or suppress it. What the annal for 668 tells us is that the family sailed to Ireland with some portion of the populace of Skye. A plausible scenario imagines ‘Gartnait’s sons’ being forced out of their domains with their dependants and supporters. One of these sons was Cano, Coblaith’s father. Later Irish folkore wove an imaginative tale around him: Scéla Cano Meic Gartnáin (‘The Tale of Cano, Gartnait’s Son’). This portrayed him as the central figure in a ‘love triangle’ involving an Irish princess called Cred and her husband King Marcan. The story has themes common to other medieval tales such as the Tristan legend and is a literary product rather than a reliable historical source. Its cast of characters includes people whose lifetimes never touched in reality. Nevertheless, the status it accords to the real Cano implies that he was considered worthy of selection as a hero of saga. We can tentatively identify him as the most prominent of Gartnait’s sons and as head of the family in the 660s. His daughter Coblaith was probably quite young, perhaps not yet a teenager, when she made the sea-crossing to Ireland.

Although the family’s reasons for leaving Skye are not given, the explanation probably lay in the warfare of the 640s. We can envisage the departure as Cenél nGartnait’s response to a political setback. Perhaps Cano suffered a major defeat in 668 at the hands of Cenél nGabraín who subsequently expelled him from his lands. If the historical backdrop to the annal is indeed a catalogue of defeat and dispossession we might wonder why the exiles chose Ireland as their refuge. This begs the additional question as to which of the various Irish kingdoms offered sanctuary. Geographical factors suggest that a group of Skye refugees would make landfall in some northern part of Ireland but, with so little knowledge available to us, we cannot rule out other areas. We can, however, rule out any notion of Gartnait’s sons finding shelter among the Irish friends of their Cenél nGabraín foes. Unfortunately, given the plethora of small realms in seventh-century Ireland, neither geography nor politics narrows the shortlist of available candidates very much. It is generally accepted that the branch of Cenél nGabraín descending from Aedán’s son Eochaid Buide lost much of its Irish support after a disastrous battle in 639 but we do not know if other branches were affected. In Scéla Cano Meic Gartnáin the eponymous hero spends time in Connaught but the tale’s dubious link to genuine history means that its geographical hints carry little weight.

The Cenél nGartnait exiles in Ireland are unlikely to have been particularly numerous. They were an elite group, an aristocratic kindred whose leaders possibly regarded themselves as royalty. If they were defeated and dispossessed in 668 their expulsion would not have caused a major demographic upheaval back home. Their former estates on Skye would simply have been taken over by a new elite, the victorious warrior-aristocracy of a rival group who, in this case, were presumably a segment of Cenél nGabraín. Peasant farmers toiling on the newly-conquered lands as bonded tenants would have seen their old masters depart and new ones arrive, without much disruption to the routine of agricultural life. Thus, when the annalists refer to the plebs (‘people’) of Skye following Cano into exile what they are describing is one small element of the population, an uprooted portion of the island’s landowning nobility.

Cenel nGartnait

Historians have traditionally viewed Cenél nGartnait as a family of Pictish origin. The names of its prominent figures – Talorc, Gartnait and Cano – look distinctly Pictish. However, as stated at the beginning of this post, defining the ethnicity of particular groups in early medieval Scotland is not necessarily a useful exercise. Cano’s kin and other inhabitants of Skye may have displayed some aspects of ‘Pictishness’ but we should avoid the temptation to call them Picts. Nor should we feel tempted to describe their island as a Pictish territory. The survival of three stones bearing Pictish symbols testifies to cultural links between Skye and the eastern Pictish heartlands where such artefacts are numerous. It does not necessarily mean that the Skye-folk imagined themselves and the inhabitants of Perthshire or Moray as one people. On geographical grounds alone, the idea of a single ‘Pictish nation’ stretching from Fife to the Outer Isles seems rather doubtful. The people of Skye surely had closer ties – in social, economic and cultural terms – with neighbours in the western islands and coastlands, including the Scots of Lorn, Kintyre, Cowal and Islay. All of these groups, Scots and Skye-folk alike, inhabited a Hebridean zone unified rather than divided by the sea. All were members of a larger maritime region encompassing coastal communities in northern Ireland and northwestern Britain. Irish influence seems to have brought the Gaelic language to Argyll as far back as Roman times. By c.500, Gaelic had supplanted whatever remained of a native British (‘Brittonic’) language among the Scots and was probably making inroads among the Brittonic-speaking ‘Picts’ of Skye before the 7th century. Thus, although the leaders of Cenél nGartnait had Pictish names, their everyday speech may have been Gaelic. This idea finds support in Cano’s choice of destination when he left his home in 668: his voyage to Ireland suggests that he and his kinsfolk were part of the Gaelic-speaking world. If an ethnic label must be attached to his family the most appropriate would seem to be ‘Picto-Scottish’, a rather vague term which does not really add much to the overall picture.

Cano’s Irish sojourn did not last long. His return to Hebridean waters was noted by the Iona annalists in a Latin entry under the year 670:

venit genus Garnaith de Hibernia
‘Cenél nGartnait came back from Ireland’

Although no additional clues are offered, the implication of this brief entry is clear: the exiles returned to their old estates on Skye. If armed force was involved, the family’s swift recovery was probably due to hospitality and material support given by Cano’s Irish hosts. Since such help was not usually offered without a promise of mutual benefits, Cano is likely to have sworn an oath of friendship to his patrons, pledging gifts and treasures if he succeeded in regaining his lands. In a period when agreements between powerful families were frequently sealed with a marriage alliance Cano may have offered the hand of his daughter Coblaith to an Irish prince or king.

It is possible, then, that Coblaith remained in Ireland as a bride and did not return to Skye. Alongside her father on the homeward voyage went her brother Conamail, no doubt a young man of weapon-bearing age. How the kindred fared after their homecoming can barely be discerned but a new round of hostilities broke out. The family’s next appearance in the annals, in 672, implies a military defeat:

Gabail Eliuin m. Cuirp & Conamail filii Canonn
‘The capture of Eliuin, son of Cuirp, and of Conamail, son of Cano’

Eliuin is something of a mystery. His name has been variously interpreted as Pictish Alpin, British Elffin, Anglo-Saxon Aelfwine or even as a Gaelic place-name meaning ‘island’. Another theory interprets m[ic] cuirp as a scribal error for moccu irp ‘descendant of Irb’ and associates Eliuin with a Pictish royal family who apparently claimed descent from an obscure ancestor called Irb, Erp or Uerb. A simpler alternative accepts the annal entry as it stands, without any hypothetical embellishment. Eliuin might thus have been a kinsman or ally of Conamail taken captive alongside him. The two men perhaps led a Cenél nGartnait warband which lost a battle in 672. Assuming that the captors were Scots of Cenél nGabraín, heirs of the men who had fought Conamail’s grandfather in 649, can they be identified more closely?

By the middle of the 7th century Cenél nGabraín, the descendants of Gabrán, comprised several branches. Two of these were descended from Eochaid Buide, a son of Aedán and grandson of the dynastic forefather Gabrán. The paramount kingship of Kintyre frequently alternated between these two branches throughout the 7th century as both competed with other cenéla for a wider sovereignty over neighbouring territories. One of Eochaid’s brothers was a certain Tuathal, a shadowy figure identified by historians as the father of a man called Eóganán who died in 659 or 660. Although the circumstances of Eóganán’s death are unknown, two of his grandsons were slain in battle on Skye in 701. Eóganán’s family were therefore, in all likelihood, the Cenél nGabraín adversaries of Gartnait, the group described by the annalists as Aedán’s grandsons. By c.670, the war on Skye had been raging on-and-off for more than twenty years, its roots no doubt formed in a clash of territorial ambitions in the 640s. The earliest phase of rivalry may have been fought by Eóganán and Gartnait as leaders of their respective cenéla, with Eóganán possibly the main aggressor. Was he squeezed out of Kintyre by his powerful cousins – the sons of Eochaid Buide – and forced to pursue his own interests further north?

In 687, the annalists noted a major setback for Cenél nGartnait. As suggested above, Cano’s daughter Coblaith may have been living in Ireland at that time, as the wife of a prince or king. If so, the tidings she heard from her kin on Skye were grim indeed:

Occisio Canonn filii Gartnaidh
‘The slaying of Cano, Gartnait’s son’

Nothing is known of the circumstances behind this entry but it probably refers to another Cenél nGabraín victory. Ironically, it followed what seems to have been a successful period of warfare for Cano and his folk: two sons of Eóganán were slain between 676 and 679, presumably on Skye. This, at least, is a plausible inference from the sparse data in the annals. A further tragedy struck Cenél nGartnait in 689, two years after their leader’s demise:

Choblaith filia Canonn moritur
‘Coblaith, Cano’s daughter, died’

She was still a young woman by any modern reckoning of longevity. Her chronology, in so far as it can be estimated from the death-notices of her forebears, suggests that she was under forty years old at the time of her death. Early medieval chroniclers paid scant attention to women, a point made in previous posts here at Senchus and immediately apparent from a glance at the sources. Thus, the Iona annalists routinely penned obituary notices for kings, princes, abbots and bishops but rarely acknowledged the deaths of women unless they were saints. Few prominent females from the secular world are named at all but those deemed worthy of mention must have been exceptional in some way. One famous example from Scotland is Mael Muire, daughter of the Pictish king Cináed mac Ailpín. Her long and eventful life spanned the ninth and early tenth centuries. Both of her husbands were Irish high-kings, as also was one of her sons. It is hardly surprising, given her paternal ancestry and marital history, that the annalists chose to mention her passing in 913.

There must have been something similarly special about Coblaith to preserve her from obscurity and anonymity. Had the annalists on Iona not regarded her as important her death would have gone unnoticed. In the context of the patriarchal, aristocratic milieu into which she was born her options for achieving great things were limited: she could pursue a career in the Church, perhaps becoming abbess of a great monastery; or, if her father so wished, she could be given as a bride to seal an alliance with a powerful family. It is possible, then, that her adult life followed the path trodden two hundred years later by Mael Muire. Perhaps the daughter of Cano of Skye, like the daughter of Cináed mac Ailpín, became the wife of a powerful king? If so, three different marital scenarios emerge as possibilities. In one, Coblaith weds an Irishman of royal blood, perhaps the heir of her father’s host and patron during Cenél nGartnait’s exile from Skye in the years 668 to 670. In another, she becomes the wife of a prince or king of Cenél nGabraín in a dynastic union sealing a temporary truce between the two warring families. In the third scenario she marries into one of the other Hebridean cenéla, perhaps Cenél Loairn whose kings ruled the district around Oban still called Lorn today. This Gaelic kindred were southern neighbours of Cenél nGartnait and bitter rivals of Cenél nGabraín. In an article published in 2004 (cited below) James Fraser argued that Cenel Loairn may have aligned themselves with Cenél nGartnait in the years around c.700. Perhaps the two kindreds were already connected by a political marriage?

After Coblaith’s death the war on Skye continued into the next century. Her brother Conamail, whose capture in 672 has already been mentioned, was slain in 705. Leadership of Cenél nGartnait thereafter passed to Conamail’s son Congus whose own sons became embroiled in a new war, this time against the Picts of the East, in the 730s. In that decade the powerful Pictish king Óengus, son of Fergus, defeated Cenél Loairn and seized their lands.The annals imply a simultaneous conquest of Cenél nGartnait by Óengus, despite a staunch resistance led by Cano’s great-grandsons. After the last of these men died in 740 their family disappears from history.

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References:

For a definitive modern discussion of Cenél nGartnait see James Fraser’s article ‘The Iona Chronicle, the descendants of Aedán mac Gabraín and the Principal Kindreds of Dal Riata’ in the journal Northern Studies, 38 (2004), 77-96, at pp.85-8. Fraser offers a useful short summary in his book From Caledonia to Pictland: Scotland to 795 (Edinburgh, 2009) at pp.204-6.

Alan Macquarrie examines Cenél nGartnait [although he does not use this name] on pp.167-71 of his book The saints of Scotland: essays in Scottish church history, AD 450-1093 (Edinburgh, 1997).

An older study is Marjorie Anderson’s Kings and kingship in early Scotland (Edinburgh, 1973) at pp.154-5.

For a detailed analysis of the genealogical texts containing the ‘pedigrees’ of Cano and his heirs see David Dumville, ‘Cethri Prímchenéla Dáil Riata’, Scottish Gaelic Studies 20 (2000), 170-91.

The Battle of Degsastan

In 603 the English king Aethelfrith of Bernicia defeated Aedan mac Gabrain and the Scots of Dál Riata in a great battle. Bede names the site of Aethelfrith’s victory as Degsastan (the Stone of Degsa) and calls it a “very famous place”.

Can Degsastan be pinpointed on a modern map? Some historians believe that the answer to this question should be Yes. They suggest that the battle took place at Dawston in Liddesdale near the present Anglo-Scottish border, thirty miles north of Carlisle. This is not a new theory: it made its first published appearance in 1692. Since then it has been cited so frequently that its origin as an unproven hypothesis seems to be forgotten in some quarters and it has consequently acquired the status of a factoid, a fact-shaped object.

What, then, are the merits of the Degsastan=Dawston theory?  Is it based on geographical hints in Bede’s account of the battle?  Does it derive from cryptic clues in obscure Scottish chronicles?  The answer to these questions is a resounding No. Dawston was suggested as the battle-site for no other reason than that its name begins with ‘D’, ends with ‘n’ and has ‘st’ in the middle. This is the sum total of supporting evidence for the identification. The name does not derive from Degsastan which, in its modern form, would today be something like Daystone.  Not a very convincing argument for the Dawston theory, you might think, but its flimsy foundations have not halted its unstoppable march into the pages of many an undergraduate text. Look in the index at the back of any book on early Scottish or Northumbrian history and you may see Dawston lurking there, either on its own or – more worryingly – in authoritative parentheses attached to the Bedan place-name, e.g. ‘Degsastan (Dawston)’.

The name Degsastan or Stone of Degsa was presumably borne by a prominent monolith in the early medieval landscape. The name Dawston, on the other hand, is borne by an insignificant stream – the Dawston Burn – which runs for a short distance beside a small patch of barren moorland called Dawston Rigg. Both stream and moor are situated in a bleak and very remote location among the hills at the head of Liddesdale (the valley of the River Liddel). Not the easiest place to get to, even by car, and not the kind of spot where one might expect a major battle to be fought.

mapdeg2

Rival theories are few and not very convincing, being based on various experiments with modern place-names using sounds like etymology. Dawston still runs far ahead of these rival sites because it is the only one with an enticing sequence of consonants (d-st-n) in its name. I don’t have any useful alternatives to pitch against Dawston but I do like to keep two thoughts in mind whenever this issue comes up:

1. The Degsastan=Dawston theory is a red herring and should be buried, preferably somewhere deep where it can be safely forgotten.

2. The battle of 603 was probably fought near a standing-stone or prominent (sacred?) glacial boulder in a location easily accessible to both armies.

In the final analysis the only theories about Degsastan that carry any real weight for me are those which identify the site of Aethelfrith’s great victory as one of the lost battlefields of Britain.

Queen Tomnat

The documentary sources for early medieval Scotland represent the historical record of a patriarchal society and therefore mention few women. The small number of females whose existence was acknowledged by the annalists and chroniclers were usually of high status like the kings and clerics with whom they were associated as wives, mothers or sisters. In a previous post (‘Two Pictish Princesses’) I turned the spotlight on an obscure royal lady called Eithne whose father ruled the Picts in the late 8th century. Here I draw attention to another woman of royal status, this time of Scottish rather than of Pictish origin.

My starting-point, as with Princess Eithne, is an entry in the Irish annals:

695  Tomnat, Ferchar’s wife, died.

This is the only mention of Tomnat so she is usually overlooked by historians and omitted from modern studies of the period. A clue to her identity, however, is provided by a later entry:

697  Ferchar Fota died.

The proximity of these two entries suggests that the Ferchar mentioned in each is the same man: Ferchar Fota (Ferchar the Tall), a powerful king and warlord of Dál Riata. Ferchar is an interesting figure because his career was played out against a backdrop of dynastic upheaval among the Scots. He rose to power as king of Cenel Loairn, one of the great royal kindreds of Argyll, whose heartland lay around the modern town of Oban. His ambitions led him to challenge Cenel nGabrain, the most powerful kindred, for paramount kingship over the whole of Dál Riata. A series of fierce battles was fought until, in 696, Ferchar defeated his rivals to attain overall sovereignty. His reign as over-king of the Scots was brief and within less than two years he was dead.

We should probably regard Tomnat as Ferchar Fota’s queen. An alternative view, namely that she was the wife of an earlier Ferchar who died in 651, requires that her death-notice in the annals is a misplaced entry that belongs in the middle of the century. There seems no justification in relocating her to this earlier generation. Identifying her husband as the great warlord of Cenel Loairn seems more logical, especially as Ferchar Fota’s importance in Dál Riatan politics may have attracted the annalists’ attention to other aspects of his life. His marriage may thus have been worthy of note and, when his wife died, news of her death would have reached the monastery on Iona where the annals were being compiled.

Sadly, Tomnat passed away a short time before her husband gained the over-kingship of Dál Riata so she missed her chance to be an early ‘Queen of Scots’. Nevertheless, she left a significant legacy to her people by bearing two mighty sons who grew up to be great war-leaders of Cenel Loairn in the early years of the 8th century. These men were Selbach and Ainfcellach, both of whom would eventually continue their father’s struggle against his Cenel nGabrain rivals. Their own sons, the grandchildren of Ferchar and Tomnat, carried the fight into the following generation before being finally overwhelmed in a disastrous conflict with the Picts.

 

Scottish Origins: Myths and Misconceptions

One of the most important papers of recent years is Ewan Campbell’s ‘Were the Scots Irish?’, published in the journal Antiquity in 2001. Campbell questions the scholarly consensus which envisages migrants from Antrim establishing an Irish colony in northwest Britain sometime around AD 500. The migration hypothesis has long been accepted as the correct view of Scottish origins, partly because it explains why the inhabitants of Argyll spoke Gaelic – the language of Ireland – at a time when everyone else in North Britain spoke a Brittonic language (i.e. British/Cumbric in the Lowlands and Pictish in the Highlands). Migration from Ireland was also mentioned by Bede in 731 when he referred to the origins of Dál Riata, the kingdom of the early Scots. In the 10th century the kings of the Scots produced a similar “foundation legend” which traced their lineage back to Irish ancestors who came to Argyll as conquerors.

As an archaeologist Campbell wonders why Argyll yields no material evidence of the alleged migration. If the Scots had arrived from Ireland in large numbers we would expect them to build dwellings of similar types to the ones they left behind. No such evidence has been found, nor do the place-names of Argyll suggest that a mass of Gaelic-speaking immigrants supplanted an indigenous Pictish or British population. It is usual for traces of an earlier language to be visible among place-names coined in the speech of an invader but the Argyll names are so thoroughly Gaelic that they actually appear to be indigenous. Some historians believe that the Scots came to Britain as a small, elite group of kings and aristocrats. This could possibly explain the lack of archaeological evidence for a mass-migration but, as Campbell points out, high-status foreigners would have imposed the trappings of their own culture on the native elites whom they conquered or absorbed. We should therefore expect the decorated brooch – the ubiquitous badge of high-status among early medieval cultures – to show Irish characteristics whenever an example is unearthed in the archaeology of Argyll. Again, no such evidence is forthcoming: the brooches worn by the early Scots are of recognizably British rather than of Irish design.

What, then, of the foundation legend mentioned by Bede? Surely his testimony – having been written in the 8th century – must count for something? Campbell makes a strong case for believing that Bede was merely stating the earliest form of an origin-story that the Scots would later richly embellish in the 10th century. Such tales were very common in early medieval Europe and were often concocted as political propaganda to create suitably dramatic origins for dominant royal dynasties.

As an alternative hypothesis Campbell envisages no migration from Ireland to Argyll other than a cultural one arising from social and economic links across the narrow seas between the two areas. These links led to the adoption of Gaelic as the common language of trade and social interaction but, although the people of Argyll became Gaelic-speakers, their distinctive regional identity was strong enough to preserve their indigenous culture in the face of Irish influences. Campbell suggests that the linguistic shift from Brittonic to Gaelic was achieved during the pre-Roman Iron Age. Thus, when Roman writers spoke of the Scotti (Scots) of Ireland they were probably referring collectively to all Gaelic speakers – including the Scots of Argyll.

This is only a brief summary of Campbell’s paper. I find his alternative view of Scottish origins convincing and compelling. It will not persuade everyone to change their views but it issues a bold challenge to conventional wisdom and cannot be ignored.

Ewan Campbell, ‘Were the Scots Irish?’ Antiquity 75 (2001) pp.285-92.