A Roman reference to Pictish tattoos

Stilicho

Flavius Stilicho, with his wife and son, portrayed on an ivory carving of c.395 AD, now in Monza Cathedral, Italy. (photograph from L’art Byzantin, 1932)


At the end of the fourth century AD, the western half of the Roman Empire was in serious decline. Barbarian invasions by Vandals, Goths and other Germanic peoples were a constant drain on imperial resources. Internal revolts likewise removed any hope of stability or recovery. The emperor Honorius, whose reign spanned the years 384 to 423, was barely able to cling onto power. He relied heavily on the support of his father-in-law and former guardian, Flavius Stilicho, a highly respected general who was himself of Vandal ancestry.

A prominent figure at the imperial court was the poet Claudian (Claudius Claudianus) who was close to both Honorius and Stilicho. He composed panegyric poetry in praise of both men, boosting their reputations while denigrating those of their political opponents. In modern parlance we would probably call him a spin doctor. In one poem, composed in May or June of 402, Claudian refers to a great gathering of Roman troops by Stilicho, who was preparing for a battle against Gothic invaders in Italy. Among the assembled forces was a unit that had seen service in Britain:

‘there came the legion, shield of the frontier Britons,
check of the grim Scot,
whose men had watched the life leave the tattoos on the dying Pict.’

Contemporary sources imply that there were many clashes between Romans and Picts, from the late third century to the beginning of the fifth. Several legions were part of the permanent garrison of Britain during this period and would have seen action on the northern frontier. Also, other legions came and went, usually to bolster the garrison in times of crisis or to participate in one-off campaigns. The identity of the legion mentioned by Claudian is therefore unknown.

But what makes these lines of verse especially fascinating is the reference to Pictish tattoos.

The precise meaning of the name ‘Picts’ (Latin: Picti) is uncertain. It seems to be connected with pictures of some kind and is usually translated by modern historians as ‘The Painted Ones’. The likeliest explanation is that it refers to a particular custom practiced by certain groups of people in northern Britain. Tattooing is probably the custom in question.

Pricking an inked design on the skin, as opposed to daubing or painting, had evidently been common practice in pre-Roman Britain, before the stamp of Mediterranean culture made it unfashionable. It may have been maintained thereafter among native communities living outside the Empire, in the untamed northern lands beyond the Forth-Clyde isthmus. Further south, in the Romanised part of Britain, tattoos probably came to be regarded as old-fashioned and uncouth, a form of body ornamentation favoured by hairy savages who lurked beyond the reach of civilisation.

Pictish warrior

A Pictish warrior, from Cassell’s Illustrated History of England.

At some point, probably in the third century, soldiers in the frontier forts along Hadrian’s Wall coined the term Picti. This may have originated as a derogatory term for any group of suspicious-looking natives prowling on the far side of the Wall, whether they had tattoos or not. The name caught on, finding its way from army slang into highbrow literature. It eventually narrowed to describe the inhabitants of what are now northern and eastern Scotland. By c.600 AD, and for reasons unknown, these people were using Picti as a collective name for themselves. Despite its origins in the vocabulary of their ancient enemies, they presumably regarded it as a convenient label in their quest to establish a new ‘national’ identity. Whether any seventh-century Picts still tattooed their bodies is, however, a matter of debate. I’m inclined to think some of them probably did.

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Notes and references

Here is the original Latin text from Claudian’s poem:

venit et extremis legio praetenta Britannis,
quae Scotto dat frena truci ferroque notatas
perlegit exanimes Picto moriente figuras

*ferroque notatas….figuras —> literally ‘iron-marked figures’

In another poem, Claudian seems to credit Stilicho with a victory over the Picts. There is no mention of such a campaign in other sources, so it might be an example of political ‘spin’. It is unlikely that Stilicho ever visited Britain. He was mainly concerned with Italy and the eastern Mediterranean.

I discussed Stilicho’s alleged Pictish campaign in an article published 20 years ago:
Tim Clarkson, ‘Stilicho, Claudian and the Picts’ Pictish Arts Society Journal, 6 (Autumn 1994), 27-30

My views were largely based on an earlier study:
Molly Miller, ‘Stilicho’s Pictish War’ Britannia, 6 (1975), 141-5
(Miller is probably better known to readers of this blog for her articles on the North British kingdoms of the sixth century)

The Scots mentioned by Claudian were as likely to have hailed from Ireland as from the ancestral Scottish homelands in Argyll. The Latin word Scotti seems to have been another ethnic term from the repertoire of Roman army slang. It was probably applied to any group of raiders who spoke Gaelic. I touched on this topic in an older blogpost on Scottish origins.

For a detailed analysis of Claudian’s poetry, see Alan Cameron’s Claudian: Poetry and Propaganda at the Court of Honorius (Oxford, 1970).

Chapter 3 of my book The Picts: a History includes a short discussion of Pictish tattooing. There I note that the seventh-century writer Isidore of Seville specifically states that the Picts were so named because they used needles to imprint designs on their skin.

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Dunadd

Dunadd

The River Add from the summit of Dunadd (Photo © T Clarkson)


Many readers of this blog will be familiar with the hillfort of Dunadd. Some of you will have walked up the stony path to the famous carved footprint on the summit. It’s an enthralling place, with great views from the top and a rich aura of history all around. I’ve been there a couple of times, though my last visit was at least ten years ago.

Today I’m writing about Dunadd because I’ve recently been reminded of why it’s one of my favourite Dark Age sites. The reminder came in an article by Jo Woolf, over at her website The Hazel Tree. Jo’s reports on her visits to historic places always capture the essence and atmosphere, and her article on Dunadd is no exception. It’s worth checking out for the photographs too, which give a virtual tour of the hill and the surrounding landscape.

Jo refers to Dunadd’s importance as a place of ritual where early Scottish kings were inaugurated. She writes about the footprint, which would have played a central role in the royal ceremonies, noting that the original carving lies protected beneath a modern replica. She also mentions the carved image of a boar, which is often identified as Pictish. In AD 736, as Jo observes, an army of Picts attacked Dunadd during a major war with the Scots. At that time, the main territory of the Scots was Dál Riata, a region comprising much of Argyll and the Isles. The later kingdom of Scotland lay a couple of hundred years in the future.

Dunadd

The Pictish army in 736 was led by Óengus, the mightiest warlord in northern Britain. His main enemies in Dál Riata belonged to a royal family known as Cenél Loairn (‘Descendants of Loarn’) whose name still survives in the district of Lorn around the town of Oban. This family was at the height of its power in the early eighth century and probably used Dunadd as a major stronghold. The fortress was no doubt a key target for Óengus, whose attack upon it was noted by contemporary annalists. The record in question, written in Latin, is preserved in the Annals of Ulster:

Oengus m. Fergusso, rex Pictorum, vastavit regiones Dail Riatai & obtenuit Dun At & combussit Creic & duos filios Selbaich catenis alligauit, .i. Donngal & Feradach; & paulo post Brudeus m. Oengusa filii Fergusso obiit.
[‘Óengus son of Fergus, king of the Picts, laid waste the territory of Dál Riata and seized Dunadd and burned Creic and bound in chains two sons of Selbach, i.e. Dungal and Feradach; and shortly afterwards Brude son of Óengus son of Fergus died.’]

Not only was the fall of Dunadd a massive setback for Cenél Loairn, the capture of Selbach’s sons deprived the family of two prominent military leaders. Óengus pressed home his advantage and, within a few years, had imposed his authority throughout Dál Riata, establishing a Pictish overlordship in the heartland of the Scots. This was not the end of the story: archaeological evidence suggests that Dunadd remained in use, at least into the early 800s. By then, however, the presence of Viking raiders in the western seaways was already putting pressure on the Scots, prompting some of their leading families to migrate eastward into Pictish territory. In such circumstances, Dunadd is unlikely to have retained its status as a crowning-place of kings.

Click the link below to go to Jo Woolf’s blogpost.

Dunadd: behold the king!

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Remembering Aethelflaed

Aethelflaed of Mercia

Aethelflaed of Mercia with her young nephew Athelstan (a modern sculpture at Tamworth Castle).


Today is the 1097th anniversary of the death of my favourite individual from the Dark Ages.

I refer, of course, to the Anglo-Saxon princess Aethelflaed, the Lady of the Mercians. She was the daughter of Alfred the Great, king of Wessex, and sister to his successor Edward the Elder.

Aethelflaed married Aethelred, the ruler of Mercia in the western midlands of England, and joined him in a programme of fortress-building that strengthened his people’s defences against Viking raids. After Aethelred died in 911, his widow became sole ruler and – unusually for a woman in those times – a commander of armies in the field. She led military campaigns in person and achieved several major victories. Working in tandem with her brother Edward, she not only held off the Viking menace but won back a number of conquered territories in eastern England.

As part of her wider anti-Viking strategy, she formed a three-way alliance with the kings of Alba and Strathclyde. This northern and Scottish dimension is one of the reasons why I have long been fascinated by her career. Another reason is her connection with Mercia, my homeland, which she governed and protected during a time of great peril and uncertainty.

She died on 12 June 918, at the ancient Mercian settlement of Tamworth.

I’ve mentioned Aethelflaed here at Senchus quite a few times and, six years ago, devoted a blogpost to her. Last year I wrote about her again, at one of my other blogs. Here are the links to those posts…
‘The Lady of the Mercians’ [Senchus blog, 2009]
‘Aethelflaed’ [Strathclyde blog, 2014]

Her alliance with the Scots and Strathclyde Britons is described in a medieval text known as The Fragmentary Annals of Ireland. The passage in question gives an idea of the high regard in which she was held by contemporaries in lands far beyond the borders of Mercia. The relevant passage, with an English translation, can be seen in my blogpost on the Fragmentary Annals.

I also recommend Susan Abernethy’s article ‘Aethelflaed, Lady of Mercia’ and Ed Watson’s ‘Aethelflaed: the making of a county town’.

I discuss Aethelflaed and her relations with the northern kings in my book Strathclyde and the Anglo-Saxons in the Viking Age (on pages 58-63).

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Finding the McCains

Scottish medieval warrior

Medieval sculpture of a warrior from Argyll (illustrated in R.C. Graham’s The Carved Stones of Islay, 1885).


The new science of genetic genealogy is now widely used in ancestry research. Although I know very little about the scientific side, I am aware that people sometimes buy my book The Picts after discovering a genetic link to the ancient Pictish areas of Scotland. They want to learn the history behind their family’s ‘Pictish DNA’.

In the past couple of years, I’ve had a number of interesting email conversations with genealogists who use DNA data in their research. One of these is Barry McCain, a writer and historian based in Mississippi. In addition to tracing his own family’s roots, Barry is involved in a genetic study relating to a district of mid-Argyll. Tradition has long held that the medieval origins of Clan McCain lie in the west of Scotland among the old Gaelic warrior-kindreds and the DNA data appears to support this.

Barry runs several genealogy/history websites and has recently produced a book called Finding the McCains in which he traces his ancestors’ migrations from Scotland to Ireland and thence to North America. More than just the story of one kindred, the book shows how to use genetic testing and primary sources to gain an understanding of historical Scottish families.

Here’s an extract from a description of the book:
“The search for the McCains became a mystery story with clues, false turns, many adventures, and then ultimate success through Y chromosome DNA testing. In 2008 the McCains were reunited with their family that remained in Ireland, after 289 years of separation. The author drew from his many experiences of his forty years of travel to Ireland and the UK to present a biography of this well-known Canadian and American family. His book is part memoir, part history, and explores the relationship between Diaspora and homeland. Finding the McCains is also an excellent genetic genealogy how-to guide for people of Irish and Scottish ancestry.”

The link below takes you to a page for the book at the Clan McCain blog:
Barry R. McCain – Finding the McCains: a Scots Irish Odyssey

Three more websites associated with Barry’s genealogical research:
Clan McCain
Mid-Argyll Kinship Group
The Scots-Irish

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Druim Alban: the Spine of Alba

Druim Alban

The Scottish Highlands (black square shows the area described in this blogpost).


During the late ninth and early tenth centuries, the Picts and Scots united to become a single, Gaelic-speaking people whose principal rulers were the descendants of Cináed mac Ailpín. The union or merger led to the formation of a ‘Picto-Scottish’ kingdom called Alba which took its name from an older Gaelic term formerly applied to the whole island of Britain. Sometime before c.900, this term seems to have narrowed to define a particular region in the far north of Britain, hence its adoption as a name for the new realm of the mac Ailpín kings. It is possible that Alba had long been in use among the Gaelic-speaking Scots as a synonym for ‘Pictland’, or that the name also encompassed Dál Riata – their own homeland in Argyll.

H_map

Before their union, the Picts and Scots had been separated by a geographical feature known as the ‘Ridge of Alba’ or ‘Ridge of Britain’. In medieval texts these names appear respectively as Druim Alban (Gaelic) and dorsum Britanniae (Latin). Our earliest references to the ridge occur in Vita Columbae, the ‘Life of Columba’, written on Iona by Abbot Adomnán at the end of the seventh century. Adomnán mentions the ridge five times, telling us that it divided the Picts and Scots ‘inter quos utrosque dorsi montes brittannici disterminant’ (‘between which peoples the mountains of the Ridge of Britain are the boundary’). He clearly had a specific feature in mind – a recognisable natural frontier in a mountainous area – but neither he nor any later writer gave enough detail to enable us to identify the feature on a modern map.

Some historians think we should translate druim and dorsum not as ‘ridge’ but as ‘spine’, and also that we should apply this term in a more general way. Rather than imagining a specific upland feature, they suggest that the ‘Spine of Alba’ might simply be the entire range of hills and mountains between Pictland and Dál Riata. Against this argument we may note that the range in question is not a continuous line or barrier, being punctuated by various glens and passes. Nor does it run north-south, a direction we might expect of a border between the Pictish east and the Gaelic west. For these reasons, it is hard to see why Adomnán and his contemporaries would regard such an unconnected line of hills as a druim or dorsum.

Another possibility is that the Ridge or Spine was a name given to just one section of this upland range, an idea examined in recent years by Philip Dunshea of the University of Cambridge. In an article published in Scottish Historical Review in 2013, Dr Dunshea highlighted the watershed between Glen Lochy and the village of Tyndrum as a likely location for Druim Alban or dorsum Britanniae. The rivers running west off this watershed flow into the Firth of Lorn, while those running east join the mighty Tay. Moreover, the watershed itself marks the boundary between the old counties of Argyllshire and Perthshire. Dr Dunshea further noted that the name ‘Tyndrum’ comes from the Gaelic tigh an droma, ‘house of the ridge, and that a lost placename in the vicinity is Carndroma, ‘cairn of the ridge’. He suggested that the remains of this cairn might lie beneath a grass-covered mound near the A85 highway, close to the county boundary.

Druim Alban

Tyndrum and Glen Lochy. The grey line is the Argyllshire-Perthshire boundary.

A third possibility is that the names Druim Alban and dorsum Britanniae referred, quite literally, to a feature that did indeed resemble a backbone. I first encountered this idea fifteen years ago in an article in the Pictish Arts Society Journal. The authors – David Dorren and Nina Henry – had noticed something unusual as they stood on top of Beinn Bheag, a hill slightly north-west of Tyndrum:

‘From its summit, looking south across Glen Lochy to the Ben Lui range, one sees a remarkable sight. Running straight up the hillside above Lochan na Bi and continuing in a straight line over the top of Meall Odhar is a ridge, resembling a massive field dyke superimposed on the hillside. It has a low cover of vegetation, except for a central strip on the top of the ridge, where the bare rock is exposed, forming a rocky line of approximately constant width. The rock is quartz-veined schist, which gives it a whitish appearance, so that it stands out prominently against the hillside.’ [Dorren & Henry 2000, 42-3]

The feature to which they referred can be seen in the following images:

Druim Alban

The ridge from Beinn Bheag looking south across Glen Lochy and the Lochan na Bi.
(© David Dorren 1999)

Druim Alban

View south from Beinn Bheag showing the north section of the ridge (foreground) and the more prominent section across Glen Lochy and Lochan na Bi.
(© David Dorren 1999)

Dorren and Henry also noticed that the ridge reappeared on the north side of Glen Lochy, where the white quartz is hidden under grass. This section is followed by the old county boundary (now the boundary between the Argyll and Stirling council areas). The section on the south side of the glen climbs the hillside above Lochan na Bi before curving over the top where it is known as Drochaid an Droma, ‘The Bridge of the Ridge’. Here, the rocks have a segmented appearance, just like the vertebrae of a backbone. Glen Lochy lay on one of the main routes between Dál Riata and Pictland and was perhaps crossed here by an ancient frontier which later became a county boundary. In their article, Dorren and Henry suggested that this frontier may have been marked by the quartz ridge running across the glen, and that the ridge might be the Druim Alban and dorsum Britanniae of the medieval texts.

I’ll end this blogpost with three images of the Drochaid an Droma. David Dorren – who took these photographs – tells me that when sunlight strikes the ridge, illuminating the rocks, the white quartz gleams in a stunning display.

Drochaid an Droma

The top of the ridge south of the Lochan na Bi – the Drochaid an Droma.
(© David Dorren 1999)

Drochaid an Droma

The Drochaid an Droma.
(© David Dorren 1999)

Drochaid an Droma

The Drochaid an Droma from the west. Glen Lochy to the left.
(© David Dorren 1999)

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Notes & references

I am very grateful to Dr David Dorren for granting permission to reproduce his photographs.

J.D. Dorren and N. Henry, ‘Identification of Druim Alban’ Pictish Arts Society Journal (no.15, 2000), 42-8.

Philip M. Dunshea, ‘Druim Alban, Dorsum Britanniae – the Spine of Britain’ Scottish Historical Review 92 (2013), 275-289.

Philip M. Dunshea, In search of Carn Droma: exploring the boundaries between Picts and Gaels. [published at the blog of the ASNC Department, University of Cambridge)

Dr Dunshea’s investigation of the possible site of Carn Droma can also be seen in a site report at the West of Scotland Archaeology Service.

Adomnán’s ‘Life of Columba’ mentions Dorsum Britanniae in Book I (chapter 34), Book II (chapters 31, 42 & 46) and Book III (chapter 14).

See also the Annals of Ulster, under the year 717:
Expulsio familie Ie trans Dorsum Brittanie a Nectano rege.
‘Expulsion of the community of Iona beyond the Ridge of Britain by king Nechtan.’
[Nechtan, king of the Picts, expelled the Columban monks from his kingdom during a programme of ecclesiastical reforms.]

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Additional notes [22 February 2015]

Since uploading this blogpost, I have received more information from David Dorren about the article in the Pictish Arts Society Journal (cited above). David is happy to send a copy of the article to anyone who is interested. He can be contacted at jddorren@gmail.com. A copy was also deposited at the National Library of Scotland and is on file there.

The quartz ridge can be seen on satellite images, and David has kindly provided the following links (via Bing Maps) –
1. Overall view (best viewed full-screen, from which you can zoom in or out and move around)
2. Close up of the area of the Drochaid an Droma

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Additional notes [4 March 2015]

I’ve had further discussion with David Dorren on a number of points relating to Druim Alban. David has drawn my attention to a couple of points that I feel are worth adding to this blogpost. Both relate to place-names previously mentioned above.

1. Carndroma/Carndrome/Carn Druim
In their article in the Pictish Arts Society Journal, David and Nina suggested that Carndroma or Carn Druim is probably the Drochaid an Droma rather than a specific cairn. In this instance, Gaelic carn would refer to a cairn-like natural feature, a description that certainly fits the rugged appearance of the Drochaid.

2. Tyndrum
Also in the same article is the suggestion that Tyndrum, the ‘house of the ridge’, perhaps takes its name from the linear feature of which the Drochaid an Droma is the most spectacular part. This might be the case even if the feature in question is not the Druim Alban of ancient lore. Tyndrum is about 1½ miles from the Drochaid and does not itself sit on a ridge, but was presumably named from such a feature in the local landscape.

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Picts, Gaels and Scots

Picts Gaels & Scots
Sally Foster’s book Picts, Gaels and Scots will already be familiar to many of you. It’s an essential resource for anyone who has a keen interest in early medieval Scotland. I have a copy of the first edition (1996) but merely borrowed rather than bought the second (2004). I’ve now got the third edition, published last year by Birlinn of Edinburgh.

Sally Foster is a renowned archaeologist who formerly worked as an ancient monuments inspector for Historic Scotland. She now works in academia and is currently at the University of Stirling as a lecturer on heritage and conservation, having previously lectured in the archaeology departments at Glasgow and Aberdeen.

Picts, Gaels and Scots is an archaeological and historical survey of Scotland in the Early Historic period (fifth to tenth centuries AD). The emphasis is on material culture – artefacts and sites – but a range of other topics are also covered: economy, religion, warfare, kingship and literacy. By drawing on the latest research, Dr Foster brings us up to date with the current state of knowledge on the Picts and their neighbours. Accompanying her text are drawings, photographs and maps, with a plate section of colour illustrations. The bibliography at the end of the book is a good indicator of how much new research has been undertaken since the 2004 edition. The ensuing years have witnessed some major re-thinking by historians on a number of important issues – such as the location of the Pictish kingdom of Fortriu – as well as new interpretations of archaeological data. What therefore emerges from this latest edition is a clearer picture of what was happening in the northern parts of Britain in the first millennium AD.

The author’s foreword is an informative and enlightening essay in its own right, a detailed summary of the advances in scholarship that have been made in the past 10 years. It can be read online at the Birlinn blog via the link below.

Sally Foster: Foreword to the 2014 edition of Picts, Gaels and Scots.

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The Legend of Luncarty

Shield of Clan Hay

Shield of Clan Hay


Although this blog is mainly concerned with history and archaeology, it does occasionally feature myths and legends, especially those in which real historical figures from the early medieval period are mentioned. Needless to say, the boundaries between history and myth are not always clear-cut. Take, for example, the origin-tales of Scottish clans. These traditional stories – often passed down through countless generations – purport to explain when, where and by whom a particular clan was founded. Such tales are important literary relics in their own right – as repositories of old folklore – but they also have special value to genealogical researchers, particularly to present-day bearers of a clan surname who want to know how old their name is and what it means.

I have no Scottish ancestry (as far as I know) but I do have an interest in the origins of a number of Scottish clans, mainly those which claim to have been founded before c.1100. I am especially interested in clans with alleged Norman, Viking or Pictish origins, as well as in a few others (such as Clan Galbraith) whose beginnings seem to lie in the ancient kingdom of Strathclyde.

In this blogpost I’ll be looking at the origins of Clan Hay, whose principal line has held the earldom of Errol in Perthshire since the late twelfth century. The traditional story associates the founding of the clan with a battle at Luncarty, 4 miles north of Perth, sometime around the year 980. The two opposing sides were Scots and Vikings, the former being led by a king called ‘Kenneth’. According to this tale, the Vikings (described as ‘Danes’) succeeded in routing the right and left flanks of the Scottish army. King Kenneth, still fighting in the centre, could only watch in dismay as a large number of his warriors fled in panic. Meanwhile, in a nearby field, a local farmer and his two sons were ploughing with oxen. Pausing to watch the battle, they were enraged to see their fellow-Scots running away, so they decided to block the escape-route. Unfastening the wooden yokes from their oxen they used these heavy implements as improvised weapons, smiting not only their fleeing countrymen but also any Viking pursuers. They then rallied the Scots for a counter-attack which utterly surprised the Danes, who thought a new Scottish army was charging at them. Victory was thus snatched from the jaws of defeat. A grateful King Kenneth rewarded the farmer – whose name was Hay – with a generous gift of land and a coat of arms, instantly elevating him from lowly peasant stock to the ranks of the landowning aristocracy. The coat of arms was a background of argent (‘silver’ or white in heraldry) emblazoned with three bloodstained shields. To define the location and size of Hay’s new territory, the king released a falcon from the summit of a hill, decreeing that the course of the bird’s flight would mark the boundaries. The land in question comprised what would later become the earldom of Errol, the ancestral domain of Clan Hay.

map_luncarty2

This tale, sometimes known as the Legend of Luncarty, first appeared in written form in Hector Boece’s Historia Gentis Scotorum (History of the Scottish People) of 1527. Boece is not regarded as a reliable historian. In fact, his work is even less trustworthy than the imaginative pseudo-chronicles produced by earlier writers such as Walter Bower and John of Fordun (fifteenth and fourteenth centuries respectively). No ancient source mentions a tenth-century battle at Luncarty. The earliest reference comes from Bower who briefly describes the battle, though without connecting it to the origins of Clan Hay. Most Scottish historians in the centuries after Boece have regarded both the battle and the legend as fictional. Some have even proposed that Boece invented the entire story – a rather extreme opinion, since it is probably more likely that the key elements originated with the earls of Errol themselves as a suitably heroic account of their family’s origins. Indeed, the roots of the legend seem to lie in the landscape around Luncarty, where prehistoric burial-mounds and standing stones may have inspired local storytellers to imagine an ancient conflict having been fought there. In the vicinity stands Turnagain Hill, whose enigmatic name may have demanded a dramatic explanation (such as an unexpected counter-attack by fleeing Scots). There is also a farm called Denmarkfield that is said to mark the site of the battle.

One element of the legend that seems at least to be based on real history is the figure of ‘King Kenneth’, who is presumably Cináed mac Maíl Coluim (Kenneth, son of Malcolm), king of Scots from 971 to 995. Cináed appears in a number of fairly reliable sources such as the Chronicle of the Kings of Alba. From these we learn that he fought against the English of Northumbria and the Strathclyde Britons, but there is no record of a war against Danish invaders in his Perthshire heartlands. In 977, at an unnamed battle, he defeated and killed a rival who bore the distinctly Scandinavian name Anlaf. Although this Anlaf was a Scottish prince and a kinsman of Cináed, he may have had Viking ancestry and was possibly the grandson and namesake of one of the Norse kings of Dublin (two of whom were called Anlaf). Perhaps the historical tenth-century battle in which Anlaf perished was the inspiration for the Hay legend? If so, it may even have been fought at Luncarty. Whatever the truth of the matter, there can be little doubt that the legend was already in existence when Boece published it in 1527. Walter Bower’s brief mention of a victory won by King Kenneth over Danish invaders at Luncarty seems to be drawn from the same tradition, suggesting that a version existed in the 1400s. Bower thus provides us with a historical horizon for the legend. Unfortunately we cannot trace its roots back any further.

Clan Hay now acknowledges a more authentic account of its ancestry in which the clan forefather was not a tenth-century Scottish peasant but a twelfth-century Norman knight called William de Haya. William was probably born sometime around the year 1130 on his family’s estates at La Haye Hue in the southern part of Normandy’s Cotentin Peninsula. He may have been a direct descendant of the Viking settlers (‘Northmen’) from whom Normandy is named. The place-name La Haye derives from an old Germanic word meaning ‘hedge’, perhaps a reference to defensive stockades or field boundaries. La Haye Hue is now La Haye-Bellefond.

Map of Normandy

William de Haya’s mother Juliana de Soulis came from another Norman family whose lands lay adjacent to those of his father (also called William). Juliana’s brother Ranulf de Soulis (born c.1090) acquired land in England through his friendship with the Scottish prince David, who had spent much of his early life at the English royal court. At that time, England was ruled by a Norman dynasty founded by William the Conqueror in 1066. When David left England and returned to Scotland – probably in 1113 – he was accompanied by many Anglo-Norman knights. At that time, his brother Alexander held the Scottish throne. Alexander allowed David to rule a large region known as ‘Cumbria’ – the former kingdom of Strathclyde – as a kind of autonomous princedom. Within this area David installed his Norman friends as barons, effectively setting them up as powerful Scottish lords. One of these was Ranulf de Soulis who received the barony of Liddesdale on the English border. In 1124, David succeeded Alexander as king of Scotland and reigned for nearly thirty years. Ranulf remained at his side as a faithful companion, eventually becoming the king’s Cup-bearer – a symbolic but highly influential position at the royal court. David’s long reign saw more Norman knights settle in Scotland, one of these being the younger William de Haya, who was no doubt invited over from Normandy by his uncle Ranulf. William’s career can be traced through contemporary charters in which his name appears as a witness to land-grants made by Scottish kings. These documents support the view that he was the first member of the de Haya family to arrive in Scotland. It has been suggested that the English branch of the Hays are related to their Scottish cousins through an ancestor who arrived with William the Conqueror’s invasion force in 1066.

King David I of Scotland

After David’s death in 1153, the Scottish crown passed to his grandson Máel Coluim. By 1160, Máel Coluim’s Cup-bearer was none other than William de Haya, who had risen to become a powerful figure at court. William married a Scottish noblewoman called Eva, through whom he acquired estates at Pitmilly in Fife. He later received the lands of Errol and erected there a motte (artificial mound) for a new castle. His descendants, the earls of Errol, became the hereditary chiefs of Clan Hay. William is believed to have lived to a ripe old age, probably dying sometime around the year 1201.

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Notes & links

Clan Hay is not the only Scottish clan whose origins lie in Normandy. I intend to look at one or two others in future blogposts.

Clan Hay has an official website.

The clan’s Norman ancestry was explored by Sir Anthony Wagner in his two-part article ‘The Origin of the Hays of Erroll’, published in the Genealogists’ Magazine in 1954-55 (volume 11, pages 535-40 and volume 12, pages 1-6).

Aerial photographs of the alleged site of the Battle of Luncarty can be seen at the Canmore database.

A picture of the Hawk’s Stone, where King Kenneth’s falcon supposedly landed after its flight, can be seen in a post at the Bletherskite website.

The second edition of Hector Boece’s Historia was published in 1575. An online version of this, edited by Dana F. Sutton, is available via the University of Birmingham’s Philological Museum. The Legend of Luncarty appears in Book XI and can be accessed via the links below, in both Latin and English. I’ve also included a link to Professor Sutton’s introduction, which places Boece in the wider context of Scottish medieval historiography.

The Legend of Luncarty: Latin text / English translation.
Introduction to Dana F. Sutton’s edition of Boece’s Historia.

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