Author: Duncan MacDonald
Category: Cook books
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Culann kept watch from the ridge at night. His keen night vision enabled him to observe the local villagers creeping up the side of the ridge to watch the flickering shadows of the monks cast on the leather shield from the candles inside. If they ventured too close Culann walked deliberately slowly toward them. On noticing his hooded silhouette, they fled into the darkness.
On the morning of the third day Brother Bryan asked Culann and Brother Moran to accompany him to the village in the next bay. When they arrived it seemed deserted as usual, but smoke was still issuing from two dwelling huts.
Brother Bryan turned to Culann. "What shall we do now Brother Culann?"
Culann indicated they should all sit respectfully in front of the main huts with their hoods removed and wait.
They did. . . And they did. . . . And they did.
After quite some time there was movement in the undergrowth behind the village and eventually a dozen armed men approached. They stood in front of the seated monks and then Culann motioned they should all rise. Brother Bryan nodded to Brother Morann who approached the leading warrior holding out a mirror and other gift items that had been brought specially from Iona. The leader reached forward with both hands and took the gifts.
Just then one of the warriors at one side, dressed in a bearskin, leapt forward, shouting and waving his sword menacingly. The monks instinctively took a step back. Before anyone could blink Culann had his sword out and with a flicking motion cut the shoulder strap holding the warrior's bearskin. He desperately grabbed at the falling garment and in doing so dropped his sword. His colleagues all burst out laughing and the leader turned on his embarrassed colleague and abused him soundly. Then turning to the monks, apologized for their behavior.
Everyone understood him as he must have been Dál Riata and spoke Irish Gaelic, albeit with a very strong accent.
[Scholars now consider there were up to four groups making up what had been referred to as Dál Riata occupation of south-west Scotland, all with links to Ireland]
Brother Morann stepped forward again and began distributing gifts from a bag at his side. Culann just as quickly hid his sword under his cloak and watched as woman and children appeared as well to watch and join in the gift giving.
After a little time, Brother Bryan motioned to everyone they should climb the hill separating the two communities. It was now midday.
When everyone reached the small plateau they noticed all the Ardslignish monks kneeling in front of the standing stone, which was surrounded by candles, praying.
The villagers looked at one another in confusion. Here were monks praying at the sacred stone that previously they had tried to forbid the villagers approaching.
Brother Morann raised his hands and called loudly that the monks were now performing Sext, their midday prayers. If anyone wished to join them they were most welcome. He then led the remaining monks to the standing stone, knelt and began praying.
Culann also knelt to pray but made sure he was facing the villagers, just in case.
As the villagers moved to the front of the stone a gasp of wonderment went up when they observed the carved cross. The rubble had all been cleaned away and the midday sun highlighted the embossing. A miracle.
After some long moments of animated discussion, Culann noticed some of the women moved to the stone along with couple of young children to pray. The reconciliation had begun.
Two days later the curach manned by the sailors pulled out of Ardslignish cove. It contained Brothers Bryan and Culann. The other Iona monks, together with now Abbott Morann and the Ardslignish monks waved them fair wind.
Alongside on the foreshore, the villagers also waved.
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* * * * *
Chapter 5 - Fergus
Fergus with his mother Sirona, at St. Ninian’s on Moray Firth
Fergus son of Ciniod, or Fergus mac Ciniod as he would have been called, was seven summers old when he went to live with Danan of Alba, near what is now called the river Tay. Like most noble Picti boys, he was not raised by his birth parents, but fostered, or raised by a relative. Fostering was designed to promote ties of brotherhood between two clans.
Fergus was the third child of Ciniod, a chieftain of Fortriu (located around the Moray Firth), and Sirona, the sister of Danan.
It was considered a great honor to be entrusted with the upbringing of another's child. As such, Danan would be responsible for providing an all round education suitable for a young warrior. This included; running, leaping and hurling weights, shinty; spear throwing, sword, sword and buckler, [a small shield, 15 to 45 cm in diameter, gripped with the fist. Used as a companion weapon with the sword] quarterstaff; hunting, fishing and hawking; poetry, musicianship, and diplomacy.
Even though intelligence and learning were highly regarded, martial arts were the first priority. Training began at age seven. Skills in warfare were considered vital with Picts as well as the Irish.
As the Picts fought without any armor, the emphasis was on agility and co-ordination. Wood-running was considered crucial and Fergus was taught how to run - without clothes to hinder him - in races to the tops of nearby hills, against much older boys. He must leap low branches or duck under high ones. It was considered important that no strand of hair was loosened as he weaved around trees without leaving a leaf shaking.
He was taught swordplay using sticks or cudgels. Games were an important tool for developing battlefield skills. Games such as 'Shinty' were considered ideal practice for fast moving mêlées typical of Celtic warfare. The main emphasis was on field craft, agility and prowess in individual combat.
Fergus excelled at Shinty. His agility and ability to effectively use shoulder to shoulder contact made him highly respected among players.
Shinty was played over two thousand years ago in Caledonia by the Picts. It was introduced by the Celts from Ireland where it is called Hurling. From it developed the modern game of Field Hockey, Ice Hockey and Lacrosse.
Shinty is a team game played with sticks and a ball. The aim is to play the ball into a goal or ‘hail’ erected at the ends of the playing area. The ball may be played in the air and both sides of the stick can be used. A player may block the ball with his stick, chest, or feet. Playing the ball with the head is considered a foul. A player may tackle using the body.
Some Shinty players have asserted that Quidditch, the fictional sport in the Harry Potter book and film series by J.K. Rowling was inspired by Shinty.
Fergus excelled at Shinty, which was considered ideal training for typical Celtic warfare
The Picts were taller in stature than the Irish and more solidly built. However, Fergus was not as tall as his compatriots and it was noticeable he was more slender in build. This was not a disadvantage in the rough and tumble of wrestling and other body contact sports, as he was more adapt than many of his peers at wood running and overall agility.
The average height for Celtic males in Britain in Late Iron Age (100 BC -100 AD) was around 1.71 m (5ft 7 1/2 in) and females 1.58m (5ft 2in). [archeological analysis of 700 Iron Age burials excavated in East Yorkshire 1960 & late 1980’s] Irish Celts were slightly taller.
Fergus had been living with the clan of Danan for two years when word came that his father, Ciniod, had been killed on a cattle raid against the clan Fidach, southwest of his territory. Leadership of Ciniod's clan passed to one of his northern uncles.
* * * *
Every ten days the youths in Danan's camp would run to the top of one of three large braes [a hill or hillside, a steep slope] at the far end of the peninsular on which the village was located. Everyone was very competitive and none more so than Fergus. It was therefore doubly frustrating for him to be continually beaten by some of the other boys. The fact that they were older, faster and stronger was irrelevant: They beat him.
He sat on the shore, staring at those three peaks, as he did many days after finishing well behind the leaders. If they wer
e quicker than him, he would have to be smarter than them. But how?
In his mind he traced out the track to be taken to reach the top of each high hill and the return. On two of the hills it was quicker to run up the valley and then directly climb the steep slope to the summit. While on the third hill it was faster to run up the side ridge, then slide down the steep slope. But everyone knew that. Where he lost most ground was on the relatively long tidal plain at the base of the peninsular and up around the shore to the village itself. Pity he was not a fish - he could swim directly across. Ha, Ha, but fish have no legs, so he couldn't run.
But dogs swim - and they have legs. He stood up suddenly, took one of the hunting dogs down to the water's edge, threw in a stick and watched the dog swim out to retrieve it.
* * * *
Two months later Fergus was visited by his mother, Sirona. She greeted him warmly and enquired how he was faring with his foster father, Danan, as she always did.
Fergus said everything was fine and he was treated well by Danan, as he always did. This time however he asked her to stay to watch him run in tomorrow's brae race.
All the boys gathered at daybreak, ready for the start of the race to the middle mountain and back. Danan standing at the front of the runners raised his hands slowly then they flashed down. The race began. Fergus was just visible in the middle of the pack as they ran past the far tidal plain and began the climb up the middle mountain.
Sirona went over to Danan and asked how Fergus fared in these races. Danan smiled at his sister and replied "He is just a small boy, Sister. He usually starts out well but cannot match the older boys on the long run home around the bay on the flat and somewhat boggy ground. Perhaps in a couple of years he will do better."
Sirona nodded and sat down to await the reappearance of the runners down the mountain. The sun was half way to its zenith when the first small figures appeared far away through the tree line at the base of the brae. Gradually more people gathered to watch the final stage of the race. There was much animated discussion as to who would win this time. Three names Sirona did not recognize were being bandied about by the spectators as to who would finish first.
Sirona stood on tiptoe as the runners reached the tidal flat on the far side of the bay and began the long run around the shoreline to the finish here at the village. The runners were spread out in a long line and eventually she spotted Fergus, well back. At least he had more runners behind him than in front. She would tell him that and say how proud of him she was, when he finished.
Suddenly a gasp went up from the crowd. Sirona's vision was blocked for a few precious seconds. When she moved to a get a clear view she couldn't see Fergus. Had he fallen? Some people in the now larger crowd were pointing to the bay. She peered in that direction and saw what appeared to be something in the water, splashing away from the far shore.
"What is it?" asked Sirona, puzzled.
One of the warriors turned and said laughing "One of the lads must have got too hot and he jumped into the water to cool off." Others joined in the mirth.
"Do you know who it is?" asked Sirona in a concerned voice. "I think it is young Fergus." came the reply. "Yes it's Fergus alright." said another "But he seems to be heading directly for us."
"Why would he be doing that?" asked someone. "Beats me" replied another "maybe he has a touch of the sun." more mirth from the spectators.
Hey" yelled an older warrior " the runners have just struck the peat bog down where the burn runs into the bay. That will slow them down."
Sirona appealed to Danan "Please, can someone get a boat or something to save my boy?"
Danan shielded his eyes with his hand before relying. "Your boy doesn't seem to be in any difficulty Sister. In fact he looks as if he's almost half way to this side of the bay."
Others then began focusing on the splashing figure as it came ever closer. "What has he got there? Some sort of raft or wooden plank?"
"No he doesn't appear to have anything. He is just paddling."
"Paddling? What's paddling?"
"You know paddling, like a dog. He's 'dog paddling'." Gusts of laughter rang out.
"He's crazy." sniggered one man. Sirona covered her face in shame.
Danan still watching the swimmer getting ever closer said slowly "He's crazy all right. Crazy like a fox. He's closer than any of the runners." Voice rising "If he keeps this up he might just beat them."
Sirona uncovered her face and stood again, caught up in the sudden excitement that energized the group. Fergus was now plainly in view not very far from them. His head high out of the water while his hands and feet thrashed even harder as he closed in on the shore.
Without realizing what she was doing Sirona was suddenly leaping up and down clapping her hands and crying "Fergus, Fergus." The cry was taken by others "Fergus, Fergus."
The first group of runners were still some distance away. "Fergus, Fergus."
Fergus stumbled out of the water over the rocky shore and staggered toward the finish line. "Fergus! Fergus!" He straightened, stole a quick glance at fast approaching runners and head thrown back, arms and legs pumping, sprinted for the finish line "FERGUS!! FERGUS!!"
Danan held his arms out as Fergus collapsed into him. Sirona was screaming "Fergus, Fergus, you've won, you've won." and rushed to kiss her wonderful son.
Literally, before one could complete reciting The Lord's Prayer, the foremost of the other runners crossed the finish line -in second place.
Utter uproar broke out. People gathered around to congratulate young Fergus. Others argued heatedly that it wasn't fair to swim across the bay. It was a running race, not a dog paddle.
After the tumult subsided somewhat Danan held up his hands for silence. "I will call a meeting of our elders to decide what rules we should adopt for future mountain races. In the meantime, I want to sincerely congratulate Fergus for showing such initiative. I don't know how he learnt to paddle like that but in any case, I believe he is the fair and deserving winner of today's race."
Sirona beamed, embracing her son. Fergus looked acutely embarrassed. Not by all the attention being showered upon him, but the fact his mother, a woman, was hugging and kissing him in public.
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* * * * *
Fergus stumbled out of the water toward the finish line
The elders duly met and decided, not unexpectedly, that all future races had to be run on the land in their entirety. They were elders after all and set in their ways. However, everyone present acknowledged that on that particular day, Fergus was the first one home.
Fergus continued practicing paddling just in case they changed the rules. Plus, it was great fun.
* * * *
In the summer of Fergus's twelfth year of birth, his mother Sirona again came to visit her Brother Danan, and of course to see her son. Sirona explained to Danan that since the death of her husband, she had been living at a small Christian monastery, started many years ago by the first Christian evangelist to come to Alba, Saint Ninian. She reminded her Brother that not only had Fergus father been killed, but so had his two older brothers in clashes with the neighboring clan; Fidach. This was a violent era and life expectancy was short. Fergus was now her only living son.
Sirona asked her brother Danan's permission to send Fergus to a very famous monastery, located further down the coast, called Lindisfarne.
"Why do you want your son to go to a Christian monastery? Do you wish he becomes a monk and not a warrior? Are you worried he will be killed like his brothers?" asked Danan.
"No not at all." replied Sirona. "I know he wishes to become a warrior like his father. I couldn't stop that even if I wanted. But while I have been living in the monastery of St Ninian, I have seen a wonderful new skill, called reading and writing. I want my son to learn to read and write."
"But we Picts write - look at our standing stones and the Ogham script chiseled into it." protes
ted Danan.
"Rubbish! The Ogham script originated across the sea in Hibernia. And can you read it Danan? No - only the Druids can read it."
Sirona was now angry "These monks write a beautiful language on pieces of calfskin. They draw wonderful colorful letters on it and bind it up in a thing called a codex. They copy old scrolls so everyone can read and understand it. They know lots of languages, Irish, Latin and many others. We Picts - we write nothing!
"All we learn is from Druids or old men who recite poems and songs. The monks can teach people to read and gain much more knowledge. They say knowledge is power, and I believe them.
"You know Fergus was very sickly when he was a child. He had fever and was near death many times as a boy. You see his is not as big as other boys. I want him to have more learning than anyone, to make up for his physical disadvantage. I want him to learn to read!"
Saint Ninian and Whithorn
The nature of ‘Irish majuscule’ handwriting made misreading of the letter u in manuscripts as n, common in the Early Middle Ages. Such mistakes transformed uinniau into Finnian (i.e. vinnian), and also Iona out of ioua.
In the 8th century a Life of a saint called Nyniau was written at the Northumbrian monastery Whithorn. The saint was cast in this lost work as a reformist British evangelist in Galloway. He was also portrayed as extending his influence north of the Forth. Half a century earlier Bede wrote in his Historia Ecclesiastica that the southern Picts had received Christianity a long time before the northern Picts from Bishop Nyniau.
By the 12th century, yet another misreading of u had transformed Nyniau into the more familiar Ninian.
Danan was a brave chieftain but he could never stand up to his sister, especially when she was angry.
"If your Christian monks are so smart, why don't you take him to your St Ninian monastery, it's closer." suggested Danan.
"It is only a little mediocre monastery." said Sirona "The best place for learning is on an island many leagues away on the west sea called Iona. That is too far, and I have no contacts there. Iona started a new monastery some years ago at Lindisfarne, to bring Christianity to the Angles and the Picts. They sent many of their best Irish monks and teachers and I am told it is second only to Iona for learning, not just on our land but in all the lands across the sea.