St. Illtud

The location of Wales on the south-western part of the island of Great Britain protected it somewhat from the pagan Germanic invasions that took place after the departure of the Roman legions in 410 CE. They did, however, have to deal with Christian heresy, such as the British theologian Pelagius' (died 418) emphasis on human choice in salvation and his denial of original sin. Germanus of Auxerre traveled to Britain to combat Pelagianism. Not only was Germanus successful, but he became the mentor of one of the most prominent Welsh saints, Illtud.

The earliest mention of Illtud is in a life of St. Samson of Dol, written about 600. In it, we learn that he founded a monastery and college in Glamorgan, possibly the earliest college of its kind in Wales, in the 6th century. Its numerous pupils included Gildas, St. David, and St. Samson. He was one of the most accomplished of the disciples of Germanus, well-educated and well-versed in Scripture. There are traits, however, such as his supposed ability to foretell the future, that I would put down to later legend-making.

A later biography written about 1140 tells us much more that we should not take as fact, but we can accept that it is an indicator of his popularity. The Vita Sancti Iltuti ("Life of St. Illtud") can be found here, where you will see him called "Illtud the soldier" (in Welsh he is sometimes referred to as Illtud Farchog which means "Illtud the Knight"), son of a Breton prince and a cousin of King Arthur, whose court he visits so he can experience its magnificence.

Eventually an angel appears to him and urges him to serve the "King of Kings," so Illtud decides to forsake his wife and become a hermit. He later takes Holy Orders and becomes an abbot, experiences miracles, cures his wife of blindness through his prayers, sees his opponents suffer, and more. There is another Welsh legend that names Illtud, along with Cadoc and Peredur, as the triumvirate into whose keeping Arthur places the Holy Grail.

The 12th century's renewed fascination with the Arthur legend inspired writers to embrace any character perceived to have been contemporaneous with Arthur. It seems likely that Illtud might not have been remembered except for the existence of the life of Samson, a student at his school. We should probably ask why Samson of Dol was considered important, and we will ... tomorrow.

Gildas' Life, Certainly False

Something about the 6th century British monk Gildas inspired later writers to create elaborate biographies for him.

The first is referred to as the Rhuys Life, since it was written by an anonymous monk at the monastery on the Rhuys Peninsula in the 9th century. He claims Gildas was the son of Caunus, a king in Scotland, with four brothers. When their father dies, one brother comes king and the others become monks. Gildas goes to a monastery under St. Illtud. Gildas becomes ordained in Ireland then returns to northern Britain to preach. The High King of Ireland, Ainmericus (and there was a king Ainmuire Mac Sétnai in the 560s) asks him to restore Christianity to Ireland. After he "fixes" Ireland, he travels to Rome and Ravenna, slays a dragon, and performs miracles. He then settles on the island of Houat off the coast of Brittany as a hermit, during which time he preaches to a woman who is pregnant with St. David (mentioned here).

He later found the monastery at Rhuys and writes a rule book for monks, then later writes a book that criticizes five British kings. He dies on 29 January 570. At his request, the body is placed on a boat and set adrift, but on 11 May 571 the ship comes ashore at Rhuys with the body perfectly preserved, so they bury him at Rhuys. (The picture is a statue of Gildas at Rhuys.)

Gildas' life was greatly elaborated upon in the 12th century by a friend of Geoffrey of Monmouth, Caradoc of Lancarfan. In it, Gildas becomes one of 24 sons of King Nau of Scotia. This is in the time of Arthur, whom Gildas loved. His brother Hueil, however, frequently came down from Scotland to raid, and on one of these excursions he is killed by Arthur. Gildas travels to see Arthur and forgive him.

Gildas then retires to a secret island, but after pirates from the Orkneys carry off his goods and friends, he goes south to Glastonbury, ruled by Melwas, King of the Summer Country (Somerset). Here follows the first time the abduction of Guinevere is mentioned in literature. Melwas abducts her to Glastonbury and rapes her. When Arthur comes to Glastonbury to retrieve his queen, Gildas persuades the two kings to make peace.

There is a Welsh genealogical tract, Bonedd y Saint ("Descent of the Saints"), whose oldest manuscripts date from the 13th century, that credits Gildas with three sons and a daughter. Except for their names, however, we know nothing more about them.

Gildas' lived at the right time to be incorporated into the fascination with King Arthur. There is another link between Gildas' life and Arthur, actually, and that is through his first mentor, St. Illtud.  Who was St. Illtud, and what was his link to Arthur? I'll tell you tomorrow.

Gildas' Life, Probably True

The 6th century British monk St. Gildas, also known as Gildas the Wise, is known by different biographies with wildly different claims and details. There are a few things we can assume are largely true.

He was born in Scotland to a noble family, but forsook it to be educated (we think) at a monastery in Wales under St. Illtud. He became known as a teacher, traveling around Britain and Ireland while preaching and setting up churches and monasteries.

He eventually went to Brittany to become a hermit, but his reputation drew followers longing for instruction. He built a monastery for them on the Rhuys Peninsula. (Pictured above is a chapel to St. Gildas in France.) This s where he wrote his less-than-complimentary history

His De Excidio et Conquestu Britanniae ("On the Ruin and Conquest of Britain") was a savage treatment in three parts of the people and rulers in the past and their sinful ways.

Part one explains recent British history, starting with the Roman conquest and leading up to his own time (He gives his birth year as the same in which the Battle of Mount Badon is fought, which is said by some to be 452CE; the Annales Cambriae give his death as 570; both these dates cannot be mutually trustworthy). Part two is a criticism of five kings, some of whom are clearly documented figures. Part three condemns the current state of the British clergy.

Part one gets the most attention from scholars of Arthurian literature. In it, he mentions Ambrosius Aurelianus as the figure who led the British against the invading Saxons and drove them out. This section also has the earliest reference to the Battle of Mount Badon (Mons Badonicus), the major engagement against the Saxons which decisively stopped their advance and occupation of Great Britain.

If "Arthur" fought at the Battle of Mount Badon, and Gildas was born that year, he would have been very young during much of the time that the "Arthur" figure flourished. For some reason, however—oral tradition?—later biographies of Gildas tie him more tightly to Arthurian Legend, adding some details to those legends for the first time. But that's a story for tomorrow.

Nennius the Historian

Nennius, the lowly minister and servant of the servants of God, by the grace of God, disciple of St. Elbotus, to all the followers of truth sendeth health

Thus begins the Historia Brittonum, "History of the Britons." The survival of about three dozen manuscripts tells how popular it was. 

Nennius was a Welsh monk and historian who flourished about 800. The "Elbotus" he mentions in his opening line refers to Bishop Elfodd of Bangor, who persuaded the Welsh Christian church to accept the Roman method for computing Easter.

The Historia is a compilation of other sources, some of which (such as Bede, and Gildas' De Excidio et Conquestu Britanniae, "On the Ruin and Conquest of Britain") are obvious. Other sources are not clearly identified, but it is highly unlikely that Nennius was making things up. His goal would be to bring together several sources; some of them may be oral histories for which we don't have other evidence, including a-historical legends and folklore.

One example of non-provable detail is the legend that Britain was founded by Aeneas after leaving Troy. Another is Nennius' contribution to the Arthurian legends by listing his twelve battles, the geographical locations of which have challenged historians. He also calls Arthur dux bellorum, "duke/leader of battles" rather than a king.

The various manuscripts have many differences: having been made by hand, there are omissions in some of individual words or whole paragraphs, and the scant autobiographical material in it is not consistent. Nennius' authorship has been questioned, but since it is the only name associated with the majority of manuscripts, Nennius still gets the credit.

Speaking of giving credit to historians, I keep referring to Gildas without really telling you who he was or why he's considered important. He, too, added much to the legend of Arthur in his history, which we will turn to next time.

The Fall of Boudica

When the Romans in the 1st century CE reneged on their deal with King Prasutagus of the Iceni tribe, seizing property, beating his widow, and raping his daughters, the widow, Boudica, decided to take revenge.

The Iceni and the Trinovantes united to drive out the Roman occupiers, Boudica apparently at their head. They first attacked Camulodunum (Colchester), killing Romand and Roman sympathizers. The Ninth Legion was stationed in Londinium (London); hearing of the slaughter, they marched toward Camulodunum, but Boudica planned an ambush that destroyed 1500 Roman legionnaires. With Londinium undefended now, she led her British army there.

The Roman governor of Londinium had only 200 auxiliaries with him, and so fled the city with his men, leaving it open to the rebels, who killed the inhabitants and burned the town. According to Cassius Dio, the attackers:

hung up naked the noblest and most distinguished women and then cut off their breasts and sewed them to their mouths, in order to make the victims appear to be eating them; afterwards they impaled the women on sharp skewers run lengthwise through the entire body. All this they did to the accompaniment of sacrifices, banquets, and wanton behavior.

The 14th and 20th Legions were northwest, in Wales, and heading toward Londinium. Boudica headed to meet them, attacking the settlement at Verulamium (St. Albans). The Roman forces gathered to meet them numbered 10,000. Although the British outnumbered them, the Romans had tactical experience. The British were first "softened up" by a hail of javelins, and the superior Roman cavalry broke up the resistance. The attempt to drive out the Romans failed. We are told by Cassius Dio that Boudica fell sick and died. Tacitus says she took poison to avoid capture. Both could be true.

Bede and Nennius both refer to the uprising of 60/61, but don't mention Boudica. Gildas mentions a female ruler whom he calls a "treacherous lioness." The attitude of these writers mirrored that of the Roman writers at the time: they were amazed that the "barbarians" were willing to abandon the better quality of life provided by Roman culture for their previous less-civilized lifestyle.

And speaking of historians, this is the first mention of Nennius in almost 1100 blog posts, a shocking sign of neglect for a 9th century historian who made significant contributions to, among other things, the legend of King Arthur. Let's meet Nennius tomorrow.

Boudica

History doesn't usually commemorate the losers, but in some cases the figure involved has fought (and lost) so spectacularly that the events are not forgotten. Such is the case with Boudica.

In stature she was very tall, in appearance most terrifying, in the glance of her eye most fierce, and her voice was harsh; a great mass of the tawniest hair fell to her hips; around her neck was a large golden necklace; and she wore a tunic of divers colours over which a thick mantle was fastened with a brooch. This was her invariable attire.

This description was by Roman historian Cassius Dio, writing a century after her death. He called her Buduica, his Latin version of the Brittonic name by which she is known now, Boudica. (The second 'c' often found in her name was a typo added by Tacitus.) That was probably not her real name, however, given that Common Brittonic (the British Celtic language used by the inhabitants before Roman and Viking invasions started adding new words) includes the feminine boudīkā, "victorious." What we know her by was likely a title given to her, in which case we have no idea what her birth name was.

Boudica was a queen of the Iceni tribe, wife of Prasutagus. The statue shown here includes their two daughters. The Iceni inhabited the area now known as Norfolk in the 1st century CE. Under the Romans (Claudius' forces had conquered Britain in 43), Prasutagus was allowed to be king, so long as he named Caesar his co-heir along with Prasutagus' two daughters. Rome also achieved local support by making loans of money and real estate to influential Britons.

When Prasutagus died before 60 CE, his will was not honored. Romans claimed the kingdom, loans and real estate were confiscated, Boudica and her daughters were beaten and raped. Cassius Dio says that the philosopher Seneca had made loans to some Britons, and called them in.

The stage was set for an uprising of the Iceni against the Romans, and Boudica was ready for it. Their initial success was sufficient to prompt the current emperor, Nero, to consider abandoning Britain altogether. That became unnecessary as the war went on.

Details to come.

Women of Legend

The word for a Slavic epic hero is bogatyr. One of the best-known was patterned on Prince Vladimir's uncle, Dobrynya. His battle with a dragon to save a princess would have resulted in most other folklores in being married to the princess, but his bride came from a different story.

Slavic folklore included female bogatyr called polianitsa, who are known to be as brave and strong and skilled as the bogatyr, and who often rescue their husbands. Dobrynya "met" a polianitsa named Nastas'ya Nikulichna when he saw her riding her black horse across he plains. (Without explanation) he fired an arrow at her that struck the side of her helmet. The strike had no effect; the arrow bounced and fell to the ground. He fired another with the same result. A third arrow finally caused her to stop and look around.

She rode up to him, grabbed him off his saddle by his hair, stuffed him into her saddlebag, and continued her ride. After four days, her horse stumbled, complains to her that he was carrying too much weight. Nastas'ya then pulled Dobrynya out of her pouch, asked him who he was, and gave him her terms: if he were older than she, she would kill him; if he were younger, she would treat him like a brother; if they were the same age, she would marry him.

Dobrynya did not want to risk revealing anything, so he refused to talk. Her horse recognized him, however, and identified him as Dobrynya Nikitich who was her age. Nastas'ya said they should get married, and they rode to Kyiv to make it happen. Prince Vladimir attended the wedding feast, which lasted three days, and Nastas'ya went to live with Dobrynya's widowed mother, Amelfia Timofeyevna, while Dobrynya went to fight a war in Lithuania.

While Dobrynya was away for many years, Nastas'ya (believing him dead) agreed to marry Alyosha Popovich (the second of the three best-known legendary bogatyr). Dobrynya was not dead, however, and learned of the wedding plans. He rushed back in time to attend the wedding disguised as a minstrel. After singing for the couple, he revealed himself, forgave this wife, and threatened to kill Alyosha. He was stopped by the third legendary bogatyr, Ilya Muromets. Dobrynya and Nastas'ya then lived happily ever after, agreeing to never speak of or to Alyosha ever again.

Whew.

There were actual women performing legendary acts in history. Vladimir's grandmother was one of them, in fact. Another was a 1st century British queen—a little early for the Middle Ages, but mentioned in medieval literature—Boudicca. Let's talk about her next.

Slavic Epic Legends

A bylina (plural byliny) is an Old Russian epic poem. They often contain tales of a bogatyr, a legendary hero. Early examples are like any other culture's folklore, containing tales of giants and dragons, acts of magic and miracles, etc. With the era of Vladimir the Great, Grand Prince of Kyiv, the so-called Kievan Cycle included bogatyr who were more rooted in real historical figures and (slightly) more realistic events.

I have mentioned Dobrynya, based on Vladimir's maternal uncle. The bylina of Dobrynya Nikitich starts with his mother advising him to avoid doing four things, all of which he winds up doing. She tells him not to travel the Saracen Mountains, not to trample baby dragons, not to rescue Russian captives, and not to bathe in the Puchai River.

He bathes in that river and meets a female dragon. He defeats the dragon, who pleads for a treaty, which he grants. The dragon immediately breaks the treaty, flying to Kyiv and kidnapping Prince Vladimir's niece Zabava. Vladimir orders Dobrynya two choices: rescue my niece, or be executed (sounds historically accurate!) Dobrynya's mother gives him a legendary horse Burko and a magic silk whip. Dobrynya tracks down the dragon's lair in the Saracen Mountains and tramples her dragon pups, one of whom cripples Burko with a bite to the leg; the magic whip (riding crop?), however, restores the horse with its application.

The dragon refuses to give up Zabava, and they fight for three days. Dobrynya, exhausted, wants to give up, but a voice from Heaven tells him to continue for three more hours, at the end of which he kills the dragon. This tale is so popular that it is still told: the illustration above is from a 2006 animated feature.

The happy ending would be Dobrynya marrying the rescued Zabava, but alas! Dobrynya is a peasant and not suited to the niece of a prince. Zabala's hand in marriage goes to Alyosha Popovich (second of the three best-known bogatyr). Dobrynya marries Nastas'ya Nikulichna, a polyanitsa (a female bogatyr).

From here I was thinking of talking about the medieval belief in dragons, but a female bogatyr is too interesting to leave alone with a single sentence. Dobrynya's marriage to Nastas'ya isn't part of the dragon story. It starts when he shoots her with an arrow. But that's a story for tomorrow.

Slavic Epic Heroes

Grand Prince of Kiev Vladimir the Great (958 - 1015) expanded the territory for the Kievan Rus. He cared about his reputation, showing his religious devotion by erecting a temple to the various gods of the people he had conquered. (He abandoned this when it became politically prudent to convert to Christianity.) The conversion to Christianity was politically prudent when he married a royal from Constantinople, abandoning his Kievan wives. (I think it stemmed from trying to overcome his illegitimacy, his mother being his father's housekeeper.)

Something else happens during his reign that I have to assume is not a coincidence, and that he encouraged it: the rise of the Kievan Cycle, legends about heroes, some of whose origins can be traced to real people during Vladimir's reign among his elite warriors and personal companions.

Now for some terms: a bogatyr (etymology uncertain) is a hero, a knight errant similar to Arthur's knights of the Round Table who travel the land having adventures recorded in the Rus' epic poems called bylinas (from the past tense of the Russian verb for "to be," indicating "something that was"). Prior to Vladimir's reign and the Kievan Cycle, Slavic/Russian legends include supernatural elements; the bogatyr often wield magic. The Kievan Cycle is more rooted in fact and national pride. The heroes are often depicted in defending the homeland.

One of the bogatyr is Dobrynya, shown to be based on Vladimir's maternal uncle of the same name. Vladimir had been sent to Dobrynya in Novgorod as a youth. One story claims that Vladimir's rape of Rogneda (see the link above) was orchestrated by Dobrynya, after Rogneda insulted his sister, Vladimir's mother Malusha. It was Dobrynya who forced Novgorod's Christian conversion "by fire" after Vladimir's decision.

The picture above is an 1898 painting the three best-known bogatyr: Dobrynya Nikitich, Ilya Muromets, and Alyosha Popovich. Bogatyr were sometimes known for specific characteristics. Dobrynya was known for his courage, Alyosha for his wits, and Ilya excelled in strength and integrity and his defense of the homeland.

Tomorrow we'll delve into some of the fictional and not-so-fictional bogatyr and their bylinas.

Christianization Aftermath

Vladimir the Great's mass conversion plan for the Kievan Rus was not acceptable to everyone. Less than a decade earlier he hd built a temple to several gods of the local tribes he had conquered, and picked Perun as the chief god.

Perun was the top god of the Slavic pantheon, a sky god with the power of thunder and lightning and storms. He was god of war and law, fertility and oak trees, and his symbols were the eagle and the hammer or axe (many "Axes of Perun" amulets have been found in archaeological digs). Perun was important to many peoples in the region, and even to Vladimir's own military.

So when Vladimir commanded that everyone come to the Dnieper to be baptized in the river or be named his enemy, people were upset, and many resisted. Dobrynya, Vladimir's uncle—Novgorod chronicles claim that it was he who raised Vladimir as a child, and later persuaded him to take control from his older brother—is said to have driven Novgorod to Christianity "by fire."

Pagan protests took place in areas outside of main population centers, such as in the Upper Volga and in the northeast in what is now Rostov in the Yaroslavl Oblast in Russia. Even decades later, in 1071, the bishop was being threatened by a mob opposed to Christianity, but the local prince bisected a "sorcerer" with an axe, saving the bishop and discouraging the uprising. Pagan culture could not be eradicated completely, surviving for centuries: a medieval epic poem composed probably shortly after 1200 called The Tale of Igor's Campaign blends Christian motifs with pagan gods.

Mass conversion was a political move, but it did not immediately change the hearts and minds of the subjects or the culture in win they lived.

But since we've touched on Slavic literature, I want to talk more about Vladimir's uncle Dobrynya, and the Kievan version of the Round Table. More on that tomorrow.

The Christianization of the Kievan Rus

Although his grandmother, the cruel and vicious Olga, is considered by some to be the reason the Kievan Rus became Christian, Vladimir the Great is the one who made it "official." The "Baptism of Kyivan Rus"*  is celebrated every year. The reason he converted himself and the country is worthy of debate.

The account of the Primary Chronicle is that he looked for the best religion of the three major ones (Christianity, Judaism, Islam) to submit to, settling on Christianity because it didn't have the dietary prohibitions of the others. The Chronicle also contains what is called the "Korsun Legend." In it, Vladimir captures Korsun—part of the Byzantine Empire—in the Crimean Peninsula. He uses this to negotiate with the Emperor Basil II for Basil's unwedded sister in marriage. Vladimir already had a few wives, but this would be the highest-born wife he could get, and forge an alliance with a large empire. Basil consents if Vladimir will be baptized a Christian. He does so, and marries Anna Porphyrogeneta.

Several Arab sources cast this event in a slightly different light. They tell us that two rebels joined forces against Emperor Basil, one of whom actually declared himself emperor in September 987. Basil wanted help dealing with them, and so turned to Vladimir, despite their less-than-friendly history. Vladimir offered his help in suppressing the rebels, in exchange for Anna's hand in marriage. Vladimir also agreed (although he seemed to have had the upper hand in this deal) to be baptized and to Christianize his whole nation. Once this agreement was finalized, Vladimir sent 6000 troops to Basil's aid.

Whichever version is accurate, Vladimir married Anna, but had a problem at home: several wives. He had to divorce Rogneda (who entered a monastery), Adela, and Malfrida. He also had all the residents of Kyiv meet him at the Dnieper River for a mass baptism. He baptized his children and all the nobility. Messages went to all residents of Kyiv to come to the river and be baptized or be declared Vladimir's enemy. Priests from Korsun performed the ceremony.

Afterward, less than a decade after setting up shrines and temples to pagan deities to please the various tribes, he had them all torn down or burned. 

In our high school History of Western Civilization classes we often hear about entire countries being forced into Christianity. We never hear about paganism fighting back. In this case, let's see how Vladimir's people felt about their forced conversion. See you tomorrow.

*The Russian attack of Ukraine in 2022 has resulted in a change in many places to use the Ukrainian spelling "Kyiv" over the Russian "Kiev." I still use "Kievan Rus" because it is historically what the group has been called; when I mention the capital city, I will use the Ukraine spelling.

Vladimir the Great

Vladimir the Great (also Vladimir I, also St. Vladimir/Volodymyr) was Grand Prince of Kyiv and ruler of Kievan Rus from 980 to 1015. He was the third son of Sviatoslav I, whose death in 972 resulted in Vladimir fleeing to Scandinavia after his oldest brother, Yaropolik, murdered their middle brother, Oleg, to eliminate a potential rival to his rule.

Yaropolik might not have considered Vladimir a threat, since Vladimir was the son of their father and their father's housekeeper.

The ruler of Norway, Haakon Sigurdsson, was a relative. Haakon helped Vladimir (who was only 21) to gather a Varangian army and defeat Yaropolik, taking over Novgorod. He was crowned 11 June 980.

On his way to defeat his brother, he sent to the Prince of Polotsk (in Belarus) asking for his daughter Rogneda's hand in marriage. Rogneda refused to marry the son of a housekeeper, so Vladimir diverted to Polotsk, conquered it, kidnapped Rogneda, killed her parents, and used Polotsk as a fortress base to capture Kyiv.

During his reign and expansion of his father's territory, Vladimir lived the life of a staunch pagan, erecting shrines to gods and enjoying 800 concubines. He was keenly aware of the religious beliefs of the various tribes and areas he was conquering, and wanted to ensure loyalty to himself by showing reverence for their deities, at one point building a temple to six different gods worshipped by different groups.

This attempt to exploit the gods for his own purposes was overt enough that people resented it. Vladimir, fascinated with the power religion had, sent emissaries to explore the major religions of the world: Islam, Christianity, Judaism. Islam's prohibition against alcohol and pork made it unsuitable, and Jews' loss of Jerusalem showed that God did not favor them. His people returned having been most impressed by the grandeur of Constantinople and its religious rituals.

There are two different versions of what happened next: the local sources that say Vladimir decided Christianity was preferable, and Arab sources that offer a more cynical reason for his conversion. I'll give you the details next time.

From Scandinavia to Constantinople

The Varangian Guard were personal bodyguards for Byzantine emperors from the 10th to 14th centuries. The guards were primarily hired from Northern Europe. Hiring mercenaries from far away was a common practice in many countries (Italy, for example) to avoid soldiers having any local loyalties that might motivate them to help someone overthrow the government.

Vikings traveled everywhere, not only on northern seas, but also the Black Sea, the Marmara, the Aegean, and the Mediterranean. An ethnic group called the Rus, believed to be Norse who settled around the Black and Baltic Seas and merged with Slavic locals, created a culture now called the Kievan Rus. They were the first recruits for the Varangian Guard, after their Christianization.

Over time, Constantinople sent emissaries north seeking to hire more. In 1195, Alexios Angelos sent requests for 1000 warriors each from Denmark, Norway, and Sweden to help him overthrow the emperor, who was his brother, and make himself Emperor Alexios III.

Many Norse, mostly Swedes, made the trip south on their own, seeking employment in the lucrative business of guarding the Byzantine emperor in Miklagarðr, ("Great City"). The number of them—and the consequences of their absence—was sufficient to create new laws. Sweden forbade receiving an inheritance if you lived in Greece. Norway decreed that departing for Greece forfeited your place in line regarding inheritance. Clearly they were happy if citizens brought money back, but were against seeing wealth leave their country for southern climes.

The Christianization of Kievan Rus that brought them to the attention of Byzantium and made them the source of the first Varangians has been touched on before, as has been the person who brought it about, but he did more than that. Next time we look more closely at Vladimir I of Kyiv.

The Greece Runestones

Several of the Norse Runestones are part of a subset called Greece Runestones. These refer to Grikkland (Greece) or Grikkjar (Greeks), and two refer to grikkfari (traveler to Greece). To Scandinavians, Grikkland was any part of the Byzantine Empire. Some stones were raised to commemorate Scandinavians who died in Greece as part of the Varangian Guards, some to recognize men who returned with wealth from their time down south.

There is variety in size of runestones, and the Greece examples are no different. One is a carved whetstone (3.3 x 1.8 x 1.3), mentioning two men who traveled to Greece, Jerusalem, Iceland, and Serkland (the name referring to land of Muslims). (This was originally thought to be a forgery; the claim was that a worker found it while digging a shaft for a telephone wire. It was considered authentic partially because of a few misspellings of place names: mistakes a forger would not make when every available document one might use as reference spelled those locations accurately.)

One is a boulder 59 feet in circumference, known as U 112, side A of which is shown here. It reads:

Ragnvaldr had the runes carved in memory of Fastvé, his mother, Ónæmr's daughter, (who) died in Eið. May God help her spirit.

Side B reads:

Ragnvaldr had the runes carved; (he) was in Greece, was commander of the retinue.

 U 112 is an example of how the runestones are valuable to modern scholars and historians as far more than an example of art. The name Ragnvaldr indicates that was likely a member of a noble family. The reference to his mother and her father are useful in connecting Ragnvaldr to his family. Ónæmr is mentioned on two other runestones, through which we know that Ragnvaldr had two aunts and a cousin who received Danegeld three times. Ragnvaldr was part of a wealthy family. Also, "commander of the retinue" makes him captain of the Varangian Guard, and well-paid in his own right.

The link between Scandinavia and the Byzantine Empire lasted a long time, especially because of the Varangian Guard, and even motivated Norway and Sweden to create laws specifically about those who went south, especially regarding inheritance. I'll talk about this north-south connection, the Varangian Guard, and keeping family wealth in the country next time.

The Jarlabanke Runestones

Of the thousands of runestones created up until the 12th century, 20 fall into a special category because they were all raised by or on behalf of the same man. These are the Jarlabankestenarna (Swedish "Jarlabanke stones") in Upland, Sweden.

Jarlabanke Ingefastsson was likely a hersir, a chieftain or military commander, of a hundred, which was an administrative division of a hundred men (and their families). He would have been responsible for organizing military support in times of war. (Hundreds were used extensively in Europe, and even in the United States: Delaware, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania used hundreds in the 17th century.)

Jarlabanke likely was very well-off financially thanks to the Danegeld, the practice of being paid off by England to stop attacking it. Another source of revenue would have been from men of his hundred being paid as mercenaries in the Varangian Guard and fighting in Kievan Rus.

He used them to commemorate fallen family members and comrades, and public works. The inscription for the one pictured reads:

Jarlabanki had these stones raised in memory of himself while alive, and made this bridge for his spirit, and (he) alone owned all of Tábýr. May God help his spirit.

Tábýr is modern Täby. There is a bit of controversy based on an Old Norse verb over whether he actually "owned" or was simply a chieftain appointed by the King of Sweden.

The bridge mentioned is actually a causeway. There are three other stones raised to give him credit for constructing roads and bridges. 

There are two Jarlabanke Runestones that mention men who traveled abroad. One of them is broken and now shows only the fragment Hann ændaðis I Grikkium, "He ended [died] in Greece." This is considered part of a subset of stones referred to as Greece Runestones, which will be our next (and final) look into the practice of raising runestones.

Runestones

When King Harald Bluetooth chose to be baptized in the 960s, he decided to commemorate the radical change he was instigating for the Danes turning Christian by having a runestone erected. This kicked off a trend for Scandinavian nobles to have their own runestones created to memorialize themselves or others. There are about 3000 in existence now.

Harald's was not the first, however: runestones as old as the 4th century exist, and they are scattered wherever the Norse traveled and settled. The Isle of Man has several, and there is even one as far away as the Black Sea. (Curiously, this never caught on in Iceland.)

The majority of total stones (percentages differ in different locales) are Christian, and crosses appear on many, as well as one of the oldest depictions in Scandinavia of Jesus on Harald's. The conversion to Christianity altered some practices: instead of burials taking place in the family plot, folk would be buried in the church graveyard and a runestone commemorating them erected with the deceased ancestors.

Runestones carried a lot of text to get their message across. The one pictured here is called Rök, which in Old Norse means "monolith." You cannot tell from this picture, but it is a five-ton stone, eight feet tall and with five sides covered in more runes than any other. It dates from around 800.

The usual formula was to mention the person for whom it was raised, their chief accomplishments, how they died, a prayer for them, and sometimes the connection between them and the person who raised the stone. Because the Varangian Guard were mercenaries all over, especially in the Mediterranean, many runestones were raised in memory of someone who never returned home, and "he died in Greece" (generic term for anywhere in or near the Byzantine Empire) is found on many stones.

One of the largest collections of runestones devoted to a single man is found in Runriket, Rune Kingdom, in Vallentuna, Sweden. Tomorrow I will tell you about the Jarlabanke Runestones.

Kingdom of the Isles

North and west and south of Scotland are numerous islands, the Shetlands and Orkneys, the Hebrides, and the Isle of Man, respectively. From the 9th to 13th centuries, they were collectively known as the Kingdom of the Isles.

Their widely spread locations made them vulnerable to invasion and take-overs. Ireland looked at the Hebrides and Man with desire, and Norway was interested in the Orkneys. Magnus Barefoot of Norway managed to conquer the Kingdom for a time in the 11th century, until the previously ruling family reclaimed the rulership.

We might know very little about this part of the world, but the Isle of Iona had a prominent monastery, whence came many prominent religious figures like Adomnán and others whose activities are recorded starting in the 6th century, although Viking invasions starting in the mid 9th century disrupted life and record-keeping.

The Norse referred to the islands as Suðreyjar ("Southern Isles"). The Laxdaela Saga (one of the Icelandic sagas) refers to people coming to Iceland from Sodor, meaning the southern isles. "Sodor" remains in the name of the Church of England diocese for some of the isles.

The natives of the Isles were Gaels, and Gaelic remained the spoken language even under Norse occupation, although Gaelic place-names all but disappeared in favor of Norse names. Norse occupation on the Isle of Man left 26 runestones, when all of Norway has only 33!

Possession of the Hebrides and the Isle of Man came to a head in the war between Magnus VI of Norway and Alexander III of Scotland. Their conflict ended with the Treaty of Perth in 1263, which recognized Scotland's ownership of the Isles.

Next, let's go into a little more detail on runestones.

The Bishop Pirate

William of Newburgh tells the story of a bishop whose actions were contrary to what was expected by a man of God. More recent research offers hypotheses for why a bishop might turn into a pirate and the scourge of Scotland.

"born in the most obscure spot in England," Wimund was educated at Furness Abbey. He was tall and fair, and had a good speaking voice, but had a proud heart and expected to accomplish great things. He claimed to be the son of the Earl of Moray, which seemed unlikely, but more recent theories are that he was possibly the illegitimate son of Óengus of Moray, who became Earl after Wimund was born, or possibly the illegitimate grandson of King Duncan II.

At some point Furness is asked to create a sister abbey at Rushen on the Isle of Man, part of the Kingdom of the Isles. The well-spoken Wimund was made Bishop of the Isles by Thurstan, Archbishop of York. While bishop, according to Newburgh, at some point he started claiming that he wa deprived of his proper inheritance by the King of Scotland. He gathered supporters, promised them to share in his successes and riches, and embarked on a career of descending on

...the provinces of Scotland, wasting all before him with rapine and slaughter; but whenever the royal army was dispatched against him, he eluded the whole warlike preparation, either by retreating to distant forests, or taking to the sea; and when the troops had retired, he again issued from his hiding-places to ravage the provinces.

Unable to stop Wimund's reign of terror, bought him off by giving him Furness and the territory around, giving him some feudal opportunity to collect taxes, etc. Those who suffered under him, however, did not appreciate this. They waited until they could find him separated from his men, captured him, castrated him, and blinded him.

He was forcibly retired to Byland Abbey, where William of Newburgh resided. He had no regret for his actions, however. In Newburgh's words:

Afterwards he came to us at Byland, and quietly continued there many years till his death. But he is reported even there to have said, that had he only the eye of a sparrow his enemies should have little occasion to rejoice at what they had done to him.

If you want to read his story according to Newburgh, you can find it here.

His success in piracy was probably because his attacks were in the Kingdom of the Isles, a series of locations far enough apart that it wasn't easy for the king to send troops to deal with him, as opposed to on the Scottish mainland. We will look at the geography and history of the Kingdom of the Isles tomorrow.

William of Newburgh

William of Newburgh (c.1136 - c.1198) criticized Geoffrey of Monmouth for his inaccurate History of the Kings of Britain, but Newburgh's Historia rerum Anglicarum (“History of English Things/Events”) included a lot of unverified and unverifiable anecdotes. To be fair, he had to rely on other writers for events that took place prior to his lifetime; his chronicle starts in 1066.

He was quite useful at discussing The Anarchy in detail, and his chronicle gives a lot of insight to regular life in the 12th century. He is the only source for an event that happened in his lifetime: a bishop that became a pirate.

The 12th century in England had an interest—by no means unique to that time or place—in "revenants": animated corpses that haunted the living. I previously shared one of Newburgh's anecdotes in A Vampire at Melrose. Newburgh, who was a priest (an Augustinian canon), considered revenants a "warning to posterity" about living a spiritual life. To him, examples of revenants were so common that "were I to write down all the instances of this kind which I have ascertained to have befallen in our times, the undertaking would be beyond measure laborious and troublesome."

He acknowledges that these stories seem unlikely, but cannot bring himself to dismiss them:

It would not be easy to believe that the corpses of the dead should sally (I know not by what agency) from their graves, and should wander about to the terror or destruction of the living, and again return to the tomb, which of its own accord spontaneously opened to receive them, did not frequent examples, occurring in our own times, suffice to establish this fact, to the truth of which there is abundant testimony. [find the entire translated Historia here]

Another example offered by Newburgh is a criminal who flees York and marries a woman whose faithfulness he doubts. Hiding in the rafters of their house, he sees her with another man in their bed, but falls from the rafters, resulting in a fatal wound:

A Christian burial, indeed, he received, though unworthy of it; but it did not much benefit him: for issuing, by the handiwork of Satan, from his grave at night-time, and pursued by a pack of dogs with horrible barkings, he wandered through the courts and around the houses while all men made fast their doors, and did not dare to go abroad on any errand whatever from the beginning of the night until the sunrise, for fear of meeting and being beaten black and blue by this vagrant monster.

In fact, the revenant killed several people, whereupon the village decided to take action:

Thereupon snatching up a spade of but indifferent sharpness of edge, and hastening to the cemetery, they began to dig; and whilst they were thinking that they would have to dig to a greater depth, they suddenly, before much of the earth had been removed, laid bare the corpse, swollen to an enormous corpulence, with its countenance beyond measure turgid and suffused with blood; while the napkin in which it had been wrapped appeared nearly torn to pieces. The young men, however, spurred on by wrath, feared not, and inflicted a wound upon the senseless carcass, out of which incontinently flowed such a stream of blood, that it might have been taken for a leech filled with the blood of many persons. Then, dragging it beyond the village, they speedily constructed a funeral pile; and upon one of them saying that the pestilential body would not burn unless its heart were torn out, the other laid open its side by repeated blows of the blunted spade, and, thrusting in his hand, dragged out the accursed heart. This being torn piecemeal, and the body now consigned to the flames.

Newburgh doesn't seem to have tried to verify any of these stories, with any statement like "... and I heard this myself from one of the villagers who did the digging."

He was not the only person who recorded stories of revenants. Walter Map (mentioned in The Demonization of Cats post) relates more incidents.

I am hoping, though, that Newburgh 's account of a bishop who became a pirate—not referred to in any other known historical account—is true. I will check that out and report to you tomorrow. Until then...

Geoffrey of Monmouth

Geoffrey of Monmouth may have been born in Monmouth, Wales, since he refers to himself that way (in Latin, he writes it "Galfridus Monemutensis"). He is called by some contemporaries "Galfridus Arturus" (Geoffrey Arthur), which may allude to his father's name or be a nickname based on his interests, since he writes about King Arthur. We assume he was born between 1090 and 1100. We don't really know his country of origin, and some assume his parents came over with William the Conqueror, but Galfridus and Arthur were common names among the Bretons.

A half-dozen charters in Oxford between 1129 and 1151 were witnessed by him, so he was definitely in the Oxford area during that time. He was ordained Bishop of St. Asaph by Archbishop Theobald of Bec in 1152, although he doesn't seem to have ever actually spent time at St. Asaph's because of the wars of Owain Gwynedd. He likely died by Christmas 1154, when he was succeeded by Bishop Richard.

His importance to the modern world was the time he spent writing, especially the Historia Regum Britanniae ("The History of the Kings of Britain"). Although he claimed it was a translation of an ancient book—a common boast of medical writers to give authenticity to their work, which was more important than claiming originality—it is a combination of the works of Bede, Gildas, the Historia Britonum, anecdotes from oral tradition, and his own powers of invention. Future writers like Henry of Huntingdon drew on it without question, and from Geoffrey's time until the 16th century it was accepted as accurate history. (To be fair to medieval historians, William of Newburgh (1136 - 1198) did declare that everything Geoffrey said about Vortigern and Arthur was made up.)

He starts his history with Brutus the Trojan, the great-grandson Æneas, founding (and giving his name to) Britain, and Corineus the Trojan founding (and giving his name to) Cornwall. One of his descendants, Leir, divides his kingdom between his three daughters (General, Regan, and Cordelia), giving a later Shakespeare fodder for one of his tragedies. Books Five and Six deal with Vortigern and Merlin, then Book Seven breaks up the history with a series of prophecies by Merlin, setting up not only the later chapters, but also events in Geoffrey's own time. Books Eight, Nine, and Ten tell the Arthurian story, ending with the return of the Saxons after Arthur's death.

Geoffrey's Historia was enormously popular, with about 200 extant manuscripts known as of the 20th century. His section on Arthur—and the Prophetiae Merlini ("Prophecies of Merlin") and the (attributed to him) poem Vita Merlini ("Life of Merlin")—have provided modern retellings of the Arthurian myth in story and cinema with plenty of dramatic details.

As mentioned above, there were historians like William of Newburgh who were more critical when it came to selecting their material and relating it to an audience. William, however, was not immune to relating stories whose interest for the audience was more important than his ability to confirm them. Medieval clickbait? Let's find out tomorrow.

Saxons versus Britons

A major victory of Saxons in England over the native Britons took place just south of Chester in the early 7th century. Æthelfrith, the king of Northumbria, is recorded to have attacked and defeated the kings of the Welsh kingdoms Powys and Rhôs. Anecdotal evidence of the death of King Iago of Gwynedd suggest that he, too, was a victim at Chester.

Other circumstantial evidence suggests that the Saxon King Cearl of Mercia was involved (not sure on which side), simply because Mercia's influence and activities disappears from records until King Penda in 633.

Why Æthelfrith attacked is unknown. Geoffrey of Monmouth and Reginald of Durham, writing hundreds of years later, say that Æthelfrith wanted to find a rival hiding in Gwynedd, but there's no real evidence for this.

Bede and the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle give motivation for the attack to St. Augustine of Canterbury's calling down of divine vengeance on the local bishops a few years earlier, who did not support him in his mission to convert England to Christianity. (He was bringing Roman practices, trying to replace the local practices.)

Coincidentally (?), Bede may have been right, and here's why: there was a monastery nearby, at Bangor-on-Dee. Knowing that the battle was brewing (it took time for armies to arrive and assemble before the fighting actually started), several monks fasted for three days, then climbed a hill to observe the battle and pray for the defeat of Northumbria. Æthelfrith had them slaughtered. Bede says only 50 of 1200 escaped. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle offers a more reasonable tally of 200 priests slain. Whatever the number, some saw this as the result of Augustine's rejection by the Briton bishops. (Odd that a pagan king would strike so far outside of his realm to be the tool of Christian judgment.)

Lots of questions about the Battle of Chester remain. We really don't know why it was fought, or all the significant figures who died. Various writers view it through their own Roman Christian bias. One of them, Geoffrey of Monmouth, deserves a closer look, which he will get tomorrow.

The Battle of Chester

Much is made of Augustine's 597 arrival in Britain to christianize the island, but the Synod of Chester, where he expected to assert authority over local bishops, was a disaster. Native bishops rejected Augustine's attempts to change their ways, whereupon Augustine (according to Bede) promised divine vengeance on them. Bede, and the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, claim the Battle of Chester was where that divine vengeance was enacted.

The map is here to help explain the two sides in the battle: Augustine landed in Kent to start his mission with the Anglo-Saxon King Æthelbert, whose wife Bertha was already Christian. The local bishops were Britons, whose version of religion is now referred to as Celtic Christianity, with some different practices from Roman Christianity. The conflict had a religious and ethnic facet.

That interpretation aligns with the two sources mentioned above. They are writing long after the battle, however. If Augustine landed in 597, the Synod of Chester would have taken place fairly soon. Welsh Annals, displaying the usual brevity of such records, lists the Synod in the same year that Gregory died—presumable Pope Gregory I, who sent Augustine). Gregory died in 604. Also, David died. That would be St. David, the estimates of whose death range from 589 to 601.

Archaeological evidence and literary records for the Battle of Chester place it anywhere between 605 and 613. If the battle was a result of Augustine's curse, it certainly took some time to get it started. Also, I would have expected it to be started by a known Christian aligned with Augustine—maybe a converted Æthelbert?—which was not the case: Æthelfrith of Northumbria was the aggressor, who was not known for being a Christian. Also, I am not aware of Augustine making any efforts in Northumbria.

The Battle of Chester, therefore, seems unlikely to have been a direct result of Augustine's promise of divine vengeance. Later chroniclers linked the two events for narrative purposes. That doesn't mean that the Battle of Chester was insignificant or a minor conflict. We'll look at the details and results of the battle next time.

Augustine of Canterbury

The Venerable Bede tells a story of Pope Gregory I in the Roman slave market, seeing some fair-haired and light-skinned slaves from Britain who stood out for their beauty among the dark-haired, olive-complexioned Mediterraneans. Upon being told that they were Angles, he makes a pun on them being called "angels" and decides that he must send someone to preach Christianity to their "Angel-Land." He sends the prior of a Roman monastery, Augustine.

In 597, Augustine reached Canterbury in Kent to preach to its king, Æthelbert, likely because his queen, Bertha, was already a Christian and would give a start on converting her husband. (Bertha was the daughter of the King of the Franks, Charibert I; the arranged marriage, tying two kingdoms together, had the provision that she be allowed to continue to practice Christianity. Gregory likely was aware of her.)

Most history book entries of this event are brief: Æthelbert did convert, Augustine gained the epithet "of Canterbury," he is considered the first Archbishop of Canterbury, and the conversion of England to Christianity was well begun. What is always left is the fact that there was already Christianity in England, and its clerics were wary of Augustine.

Part of Augustine's purpose was to bring Christianity in England in line with that of Rome, especially their calculation of the date of Easter. (This would not approach a resolution until the Synod of Whitby in 664.) The priests and preachers in England were not that keen to be told they were "doing it wrong." A preliminary meeting between the local bishops and Augustine took place at a location referred to as Augustine's Oak. Bede tells us of two meetings, in the first of which Augustine has them bring to him someone who is disabled, and they would see whose prayers were more effective at healing him. Even though Augustine's prayers restored sight to a blind man, he was told they would have to confer with their peers and hold a more inclusive gathering. This would be the Synod of Chester.

Prior to this second meeting, Bede tells us that the Britons sought the advice of a holy hermit as to how they should handle Augustine. He tells them that, when they approach, if Augustine rises to greet them, then they will know him for a humble man who considers them equals.

Augustine did not rise from his seat to greet them; they did not take it well, and the synod fell apart. Augustine called down divine vengeance on them for not agreeing to work with him. Fortunately, such Old Testament curses did not apply in "modern" 6th century England.

...or did they? You'll want to find out tomorrow what happened next.

The Quest to Spread Christianity

Christianity came to Britain early. Tertullian and Origen, writing in the early 3rd century, mention Christian figures there. What is now Christian doctrine was not fully formed, however, and so some practices differed from what was happening around the Mediterranean. Pelagius, for example, was born there, whose heretical ideas prompted St. Jerome to call him "stuffed with Scottish porridge." The Synod of Whitby pitted the practices of Irish/Celtic/British Christianity against Roman Christianity.

The Christianity developing in the British Isles may have developed differently, but the fervor with which missionaries felt it should be spread was the equal of any 1st century apostle. Missionaries such as Patrick and Finnian of Clonard christianized Ireland, the Irish then christianized the Picts, then St. Columba focused on Scotland. (In all this, the Anglo-Saxons seem to have been left alone. The counties stories of the spread of Christianity in the first several centuries don't include anyone going on missions to southern England, until Pope Gregory I sends Augustine of Canterbury in 597 to preach to them.)

With all the islands converted, Irish missionaries looked for farther goals...and there was a whole continent waiting. One of the most successful Irish missionaries was Columbanus (543 - 615). He first went to Burgundy, establishing schools until he was exiled from there by Theuderic II. He went to Austria and established an abbey there. When Theuderic took over that part of the continent, Columbanus fled to Italy and established a scholar Bobbio.

His schools raised hundreds of Christians with the same philosophy of mission work, establishing monasteries in Belgium, France, Germany, and Switzerland. The legacies of St. Gall and the Scots Monastery can be traced back to Columbanus and his schools.

The Íslendingabók ("Book of the Icelanders") written between 1122 and 1133 mentions Irish priests already in Iceland when the Norse arrived.

The 14th and 15th centuries saw a decline in the number of Irish monks traveling to Europe and joining the monasteries. Monasteries in Nuremberg and Vienna were given over to German groups. The Scots Monastery was handed to a Scottish congregation in 1577 by papal decree.

Enough about missions from Great Britain. What happened when a mission came to Great Britain? Did Augustine have an easy time of it, with the Christians nearby? We'll find out tomorrow.

The Scots Monastery

The earliest reference of the Vision of Tnugdalus comes from the Scots Monastery in Regensburg, Germany. Why was it called "Scots" Monastery?

The Schottenkirche ("Scots Church"), or Schottenkloster ("Scots Cloister/Monastery") was founded about 1070. Schotten is actually the German word for Scotti, which at the time simply meant Gaels, including people from both Ireland and Scotland. In fact, the Irish founded it, and later it was used by Scottish monks. The specific founder was Marianus Scotus of Regensburg, who was born Muiredach Mac Robartaig. An Irish monk and scribe, he wound up in Regensburg on a pilgrimage to Rome, after becoming a Benedictine and deciding to found the monastery.

Regensburg was a central location for the Hiberno-Scottish mission to Europe, and within a hundred years or so daughter monasteries from Regensburg had been established in Würzburg, Nuremberg, Konstanz, Eichstatt, and Kyiv. The site was so popular that it could not handle all the Irish monks traveling to join, and a new abbey was started on a site outside the city walls within 30 years of the founding of the original. The completed Irish Benedictine Abbey Church of St. James and St. Gertrude was included within the city walls when the city was expanded in 1300. This church in the Romanesque style was expanded in the later 1180s, and can be seen today. 

Scottish monks came to dominate the place when the pope in 1577 transferred the rights from Irish monks to Scottish. Currently, it is a Roman Catholic seminary. The illustration is a 1640 drawing of the monastery complex.

The Hiberno-Scotish mission mentioned in paragraph three was a serious trend in the 6th through 11th centuries, and I'll tell you more about the next time.

Vision of Tnugdalus

The 12th century saw a burgeoning of literature by figures whose names we actually know, like Marie de France and Chrétien de Troyes (mentioned here), Thomas of Britain and Hue de Rotelande. Then there were less clearly known names like Marcus, supposedly an itinerant Irish monk in the Regensburg, Germany, monastery called the Scots Monastery. The only item written by Marcus is the Visio Tnugdali, the "Vision of Tnugdalus," found in five 15th century copies, one of which is Cotton Caligula A.ii, found in the famous Cotton Library, that includes several other romances.

Written shortly after 1149, it is an account told to Marcus by a knight, Tnugdalus, called Tundale in English manuscripts. Marcus claims also to have translated the story from an Irish version. We are told that the story took place in Cork in 1148.

The story is of the wealthy Tnugdalus, who loved stealing, sex, and food and drink. He fought and gossiped and never did any good works. One day he goes to collect a debt owed to him. The borrower is unable to pay, and Tnugdalus flies into a rage. The borrower remains calm and talks Tnugdalus down, and invites him to a meal. While eating and drinking, however, Tnugdalus starts to feel ill, starting with his arm becoming paralyzed. When he tries to rise from the table, he collapses; he becomes cold as the proverbial stone, except for some slight warmth on his left side (where the heart is)?

This was on a Wednesday. The slight warmth leads those around him to keep him above ground. He regains consciousness on Saturday afternoon, upon which he has a story to tell.

He says his soul awakened in a dark place, and he wept, sure that his sins had caught up with him in the afterlife. A horde of foul and noisy creatures come rushing toward him, claiming that his sins confirmed his status as one of them! While he cowers before them, a point of light appears and grows closer, ultimately arriving and turning out to be his guardian angel, who asks him "What are you doing here?"

The angel tells him that he still has a chance to be saved. The horde freaks out about this, but the angel turns to Tnugdalus and says "Quick! Follow me!" The angel leads him through a dark tunnel, where the angel's light reveals the souls being tormented for different sins. This Dante-esque journey reveals more and more types of torment for different sins, some of which Tnugdalus experiences for a time, until the angel takes him on to the next experience. Ultimately, nearing the gates of hell, he sees Satan himself, a 150-foot tall human-shaped and thousand-armed creature chewing souls in his sharp teeth a thousand at a time.

Purgatory is also on the itinerary's. great relief to Tnugdalus, who wants to stay there, but the angel assures him that even better awaits, and takes him to Heaven. They stand on a wall in Heaven—seen in the illustration above—and Tnugdalus now grasps knowledge of everything, and can see anything, no matter how far away. Suddenly,

... Saint Ruadan approached them. He welcomed Tundale happily, took him into his arms and hugged him.

‘My son, your arrival here is blessed indeed,’ he said, and they stood together. ‘From now onwards, while you live in the world you can look forward to a good end to your life. I was once your patron saint and in your worldly life you should be willing to show me some generosity and to kneel, as you well know, in my presence.’

St. Patrick is also seen, as well, as several historical deceased Irish bishops. Tnugdalus asks to stay, but is told that is not possible unless someone has led a good life. Tnugdalus must return to his body and change his ways if he wants to see this place again. Tnugdalus re-awakens in his body, astonishes all the people surrounding him by that and by the promise to amend his life.

The story is reminiscent of the Irish immram (Irish "voyage"), a hero's journey, usually by sea, through fantastical and legendary places. Marcus wrote in Latin, although he says he translated an Irish-language account. The story was translated into several languages, at least into French, German, and Norse. The Cotton version is Middle English. You can read a Modern English version here.

I'm curious about the place where Marcus wrote. What was a Scots Monastery doing in Germany? Tomorrow I'll tell you about the Schottenkirche.

St. Ruadán

St. Ruadán was one of the Twelve Apostles of Ireland. Born in Tara and educated at Clonard by Finnian, he later founded his own monastery of about 150 at Lorrha, the remains of which are pictured here.

Ruadán was known for his prophecies. His prophecy that Diarmait mac Cerbaill would die from the roof beam of his house came true, even though Diarmait had it removed and cast into the sea: it was found and innocently used as a roof beam in another house, in which Diarmait was trapped when it was burned down. The roof beam—his own—fell on him.

Ruadán was not just objectively prophesying Diarmait's death: he actively disapproved of Diarmait. Diarmait had imprisoned a kinsman of Ruadán who had violated the king's law. Ruadán came to Tara to curse Diarmait for violating he sanctity of the church; he cursed the hearth, proclaiming that never again would smoke rise from a building on the Hill of Tara. Diarmait then glanced up at the ceiling, at which Ruadán made his famous prediction about the roof beam.

The Curse of Tara and the "decommissioning" of the royal hill site would therefore have started as of Ruadán's visit in 556. Diarmait survived until 565, however, and Adomnán of Iona held a synod at Tara in 697.

Ruadán died in 584; his feast day is 15 April. There is not a lot of detail about his life, but his reputation lived on: he "appeared" in the 12th century to an Irish knight named Tnugdalus (alternately, Tundalus or Tundale). The popular Visio Tnugdali ("Vision of Tnugdalus") was recorded about 1149 by a Brother Marcus who claimed to have heard it from the knight himself. 

But that's a story for tomorrow.

Prophetic Death

Prophetic death is a staple of mythology and legend. One classic trope is the "threefold death" in which a prophecy claims three different manners of a person's death, all of which somehow come true.

One example is a Welsh legend of Merlin, who is asked to prophesy a boy's death; he says the boy will fall from a rock. The boy is then dressed in different clothing and brought before Merlin and asked about the manner of his death; Merlin says he will hang. The boy is then disguised as a girl and brought again; Merlin prophesies drowning. Later, while on a hunt, the boy slips from a rock, is caught on a tree and suspended upside-down, with his head in a lake, where he drowns.

Diarmait Mac Cerbaill was a real historical figure, and yet we are told he suffered the threefold death of legends. According to the Life of Columba by Adomnán of Iona, he is told by an Irish seer that his foster-son, Áed Dub ("Black Áed"), will kill him; Diarmait banishes Áed Dub. Then, St. Ruadán prophesies that he would be killed by the roof beam of his hall at Tara; Diarmait has the roof beam removed and thrown into the sea.

With those dangers removed, Diarmait continues his quest to avoid death by asking druids how he will die. They predict a threefold death, "by iron, water, and fire." This would mean slain with a weapon, drowning, and burning. Further, they are him that there will be signs of his impending death: a shirt grown from a flax seed, a woolen mantle made from a single sheep, ale brewed from a single grain of corn, bacon from a sow that has never farrowed.

Diarmait, satisfied that his death by anything other than old age is unlikely, visits the hall of Banbán, where he is shown a shirt, a mantle, and bacon that satisfy the conditions of his imminent death. He decides to immediately leave the hall, but Áed Dub is waiting at the door, stabs him and sets fire to the hall. Prevented from leaving the burning hall, Diarmait climbs into a vat of ale to survive the heat. The burning hall collapses, and the roof beam, which Banbán had found in the sea and used to build his hall, falls and crushes Diarmait.

It is curious to have a prophetic and threefold death attributed to an actual person. The Annals of Tigernach, in the entry for 563, merely states "Diarmaid son of Cearbhall was killed in Ráth Bec in Magh Line by Aodh Dubh son of Suibne Araidhe, king of Ulster, and his head was taken to Cluain and his body was buried in Connere."

Adomnán, for his own reasons, was clearly embellishing. Perhaps his knowledge that Diarmait was dabbling in Christianity was the emphasis, since legend says that Áed Dub suffered a similar threefold death, which Adomnán attributes to divine justice after killing Diarmait. Adomnán would have been drawing from several sources for his Life of St. Columba, including the saga Aided Diarmata ("Death of Diarmait").

One more look at Diarmait, the king who bridged the pagan and Christian eras in Irish kingship, before we move on to something else. This next look will be from the angle of St. Ruadán.

Diarmait mac Cerbaill

There were two significant designations for kings in Ireland. Of the several different kingdoms on the Emerald Isle, only one of them had possession of the sacred site the Hilo Tara, on which stood the Lia Fáil, the "Stone of Destiny," brought to Ireland by the Tuatha dé Danann, that would cry out when the true king stepped on it. Whether the Stone ever was heard to cry out is moot: possessing the Hill let you declare yourself King of Tara after engaging in a sacred pagan initiation rite.

The other designation was High King of Ireland, or King of All Ireland. This designation was not rooted in Irish mythology: it denoted someone powerful enough that other kingdoms recognized his political and military superiority. There was no spiritual or religious aspect to this title.

Diarmait Mac Cerbaill was the last known king in Ireland to go through the pagan ritual of marriage to the goddess of the land, and so was King of Tara. Annals declare him a great-grandson of the semi-historical Niall of the Nine Hostages. His father's name was Fergus, but rather than be named "Ferguson," his surname is given as Cerbaill from his father's nickname Cerrbél, "crooked mouth."

During his lifetime, he was also declared High King of Ireland, from 544 to 565. His reign was not stellar. In a dispute between St. Columba and Finnian of Movilla, he took the wrong side and was defeated at the Battle of Cúl Dreimhne, the famous "Battle of the Books" over the copyright of the Cathach. It was not the only battle he lost.

Despite his initiation as King of Tara, and references to "druid fences" being used during the Battle of Cúl Dreimhne, he was the first High King in Ireland to embrace (or at least dabble in) Christianity. Adomnán of Iona wrote that Diarmait was "ordained by God's will as king of all Ireland." Adomnán was writing 150 years later, but it is not the only evidence that Diarmait might have begun forging a healthy relationship with Christianity. He supported St. Finnian of Movilla. The stone pictured above is believed to be Diarmait and St. Ciaran, carved into the Cross of the Scriptures at Clonmacnoise, planting a stake together. There is a quotation attributed to him that suggests respect for the power of Christianity: "Woe to him that contends with the clergy of the churches." Also, curiously, two of his sons are called Colmán, a specifically Christian name based on the 6th century Irish missionary, St. Columbanus. (Irish royals were known to give the same name to more than one son—relying on nicknames later to distinguish them?—until the 16th century.)

The end of his life, however, was decidedly non-Christian; rather, it involves a mythical "threefold death" based in prophecy that seems impossible at first but comes true in a logical manner. It's complicated enough that I think I'll save it until tomorrow. See you then.