THIS nation will pay tribute to Alex Salmond at a memorial service in St Giles Cathedral, Edinburgh on Saturday, which is also St Andrew’s Day. I am sure it will be appropriately fulsome and will acknowledge the great contribution that he made to Scotland.
As I have written before, my view is that in the fullness of time the judgement of history will be that Alex Salmond will be seen as the harbinger of the regaining of independence by Scotland.
That is my earnest hope and though I will probably not live to see it, we must all do our bit to bring Alex’s dream to fruition. I have tried to do that by writing about Scotland’s fantastic history and encouraging people to find out more about this nation, because the more people know about this land, the more they will revere it and own it.
I do trust that at the memorial mention will be made of Alex’s love of Scottish history, as shown by his degree from St Andrews University in economics and mediaeval history.
Over the years I had numerous conversations about Scottish history with a man I was proud to call a friend, and I know he and his wife Moira regularly perused my columns – it was he who suggested that Linlithgow, the town of his birth, be included in my previous series on ancient towns.
We also had a conversation or three about Scotland’s ancient history, and he was adamant that if more people knew just how historically ancient this land was, they would surely conclude that Scotland has a pedigree as a European nation that goes back many centuries – and could be that nation once again.
In this column, I am starting a series about the ancient lost kingdoms of Scotland – those territories and communities which would ultimately merge to form the country we know today.
Over the next few weeks I will be telling the stories of those kingdoms which I suspect many Scots are unaware of as our ancient history was never a priority in our schools of yesteryear where we were taught “British” – ie, English – history: Alfred the Great and not Kenneth MacAlpin; Canute and not Canmore; Richard the Lionheart and not William the Lion. You see what I mean? So with respect and affection I am dedicating this series to a great Scotsman and lover of our history, Alexander Elliot Anderson Salmond.
In order these kingdoms are: Dalriada of the Scoti; the Pictish kingdom of Fortriu; Strathclyde of the Britons; Galloway of the Gaels, and the Norse kingdom that comprised Orkney, Shetland, the Hebrides, Caithness, part of the west coast and the Isle of Man.
That’s five for a start. However, although I consider it to be Anglo-Saxon in origin, I will probably add Bernicia of the south-east of the country, reader Frank Spratt having emailed me a fine letter that ended: “I would therefore urge you to include Bernicia in your assessment of the ancient kingdoms of Scotland.” I will do my research and get back to you on Bernicia.
As always, I emphasise that I am a writer about history and not a professional historian, and I always try to acknowledge original sources of material. The trouble with the lost ancient kingdoms of Scotland is that there are not a lot of sources to be quoted, and only a minuscule amount of material that was contemporary. Much of what we know about them comes from sources elsewhere, eg England and Ireland, or from the deductions of archaeologists.
READ MORE: Richard Walker: Why the Sunday Herald said Yes in 2014
Let’s start with Dalriada. Rendered in Gaelic as Dál Riata, meaning the place or portion of Riata, who was a chief whose life and achievements are lost to history. This lost ancient kingdom began in Ireland and involved a people later named as Scoti, a Latin word meaning raiders or possibly pirates – yes, Scotland means “land of the raiders” – which first appeared in 4th century texts by the Romans or Romano-Britons who were then still living mostly south of Hadrian’s Wall in the province they called Britannia.
The Romans used “Scoti” to describe the people from Ireland who were frequently invading the north-west of the Romano-British territories. These Scoti were known to the Romans as intrepid seafarers and feared warriors, but they had not moved out of Ireland much before the middle of the 4th century.
There is some proof from Roman records that these Scoti joined the Picts of north-east Scotland along with invading tribes from the Continent – mainly the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes – to make life hell for the Romano-Britons.
From 380CE onwards, Roman legions were increasingly diverted to mainland Europe, firstly because the commander of Britannia, Magnus Maximus, invaded Gaul to further his claim to be emperor, and secondly to deal with invasions of Vandals and Visigoths. By 410CE, all Roman soldiers and most of Britannia’s administrators left.
Their departure meant that the Scoti were able to turn their attention to the west coast of Scotland, to the lands now encompassed by Argyll and the Inner Hebrides and extending as far south as Arran in the Firth of Clyde.
There is a theory that in order to defeat the hated Romans, the Picts invited the Scoti to Great Britain and gave them the land that became Dalriada. But given their military and naval might, it’s surely more likely that the Scoti moved over the North Channel from Ireland, most probably via the Straits of Moyle where the mainland of Scotland is just 12 miles (19kms) from County Antrim – and having done it, I can confirm that on a clear day you can indeed see Torr Head in Antrim from the Mull of Kintyre.
The Scoti most probably occupied more southern and western parts of Ireland before they came to Antrim and then on to Scotland. By the 5th century, they had established a kingdom in what is now Northern Ireland, and one of their chiefs was known as Erc of Dalriada.
Traditionally the chief who led them across the North Channel in the late 5th century was Erc’s son Fergus Mor (“the great”), whose existence is shadowy, yet beyond doubt. The Annals of Tigernach, a chronicle produced centuries later by Irish monks, states that in 501: “Feargus Mor mac Earca cum gente Dal Riada partem Britaniae tenuit, et ibi mortuus est.”
This translates as: “Fergus Mór mac Eirc, with the people of Dál Riata, held part of Britain, and he died there.”
There are also many references to Fergus in chronicles and early histories of Scotland, with some describing him as the first king of the Scottish side of Dalriada. To the mediaeval kings of Scots and even into the late Middle Ages, it was important to be able to claim descent from Fergus. As late as the 16th century, James VI & I named himself the “happie monarch sprung of Ferguse race”.
Fergus left the Irish Dalriada behind and committed himself to building a new kingdom in Argyll and its environs. He and his two brothers divided their new Scottish territory into three.
The Rev James Wylie, best known as the author of The History of Protestantism, published his History Of The Scottish Nation in the 1880s and though he doesn’t cite his sources, he is definite about what happened around the year 500: “Fergus Mor, when he crossed from Antrim to what is now the Scottish shore, was accompanied by his two brothers Angus and Loarne. They were the fathers of three tribes, termed ‘the three powerful of Dalriada’ among whom the new Dalriada was partitioned.
“Cowall and Kintyre fell to the lot of the descendants of the great-grandson of Fergus, Comgall by name, and that name, slightly altered, we can still recognise in the ‘Cowall’ of today. The islands of Jura and Islay formed the possessions of the descendants of Angus.
They had the sea for their border; and their territories were neither infertile nor wanting in picturesqueness of landscape, the fine outlines, and the rich purple colourings of the mountains of the former island in particular often tempting the tourists of today across the troubled strait that separates it from the mainland.
“To the descendants of Loarne was assigned the district that still bears the name, scarcely altered, of their ancestors. In a central position, between the territories of Cowall and Lorne, was placed, as we have already said, the capital of the little state, Dunadd.”
It took a few generations to sort out who owned what land, but the names of the subdivisions of Dalriada were recorded at the time, tracing their lineage back to Fergus Mor.
The Cenél nGabráin, named after a grandson of Fergus Mor, comprised Kintyre, Cowal and probably Bute and Arran. The Cenél Loairne covered Lorn, Ardnamurchan and Mull, and the Cenél nOengusa comprised Islay and Jura. Later on the Cenél Comgall came along and they took charge of Bute and Cowal. This was similar to the way that Irish Dalriada and other kingdoms on the Emerald Isle ran themselves – loose associations of clans and tribes in an area acknowledging a “ri”, a king, who in turn recognised an overlord or High King.
It’s my belief that Fergus Mor was probably the first High King of the new Dalriada, and he made his capital at Dunadd, a hill fort dating from prehistoric times which lies near the village of Kilmartin in modern Argyll and Bute. Jutting up from the area known as the Great Moss, Dunadd was a fortification above all.
It is speculative to say that Dunadd was the capital of Dalriada, but it was certainly a hugely important feature of the kingdom. Legend has it that Fergus Mor brought the Stone of Destiny with him from Ireland and placed it at Dunadd. Certainly successive kings of Dalriada were crowned at Dunadd, and famously there are carved footprints on the site – the legacy of coronations?
READ MORE: The Scottish architect who helped Glasgow ‘Americanise’
As I wrote recently, Historic Environment Scotland is in no doubt about Dunadd’s importance, calling it one of the “most important early mediaeval power centres in Scotland”. Dunadd also had, among other facilities, “one of the most significant early mediaeval metal-working workshops in Europe”.
As there is almost no archaeological proof of the links between the Irish Dalriada and new Dalriada, it can only be surmised they were peoples joined by tribal relations and a single language – Gaelic. It was part of Gaelic culture for clans to battle each other, either for land or, more usually, for cattle.
It is supposed by some historians that the emergence of powerful clans in what became Ulster squeezed the people of Dalriada in Antrim and made them look for more land elsewhere – and they found it just a dozen miles away across the sea.
That they were a seafaring people is obvious. For short journeys mainly on inland waters they had coracles, which are usually oval or round in shape. For seagoing travel they had currachs or curraghs, rowing boats of different sizes, firstly with a wood frame and covered in animal hides or later plank-built. These were used to transport warriors, and the success of Fergus Mor and his descendants in the 6th century showed that they were militarily formidable.
By the middle of that century, Dalriada was firmly established in and around Argyll.
The most famous Dalriadan was about to arrive, and he was not a king or chief but a preacher. He was an Irish warrior turned monk and he came to spread Christianity across northern Britain. His name was Colm Cille, Gaelic for “Dove of the Church”, but we know him better as St Columba of Iona.
We’ll see next week what an enormous impact Columba and Dalriada had on our country.
Why are you making commenting on The National only available to subscribers?
We know there are thousands of National readers who want to debate, argue and go back and forth in the comments section of our stories. We’ve got the most informed readers in Scotland, asking each other the big questions about the future of our country.
Unfortunately, though, these important debates are being spoiled by a vocal minority of trolls who aren’t really interested in the issues, try to derail the conversations, register under fake names, and post vile abuse.
So that’s why we’ve decided to make the ability to comment only available to our paying subscribers. That way, all the trolls who post abuse on our website will have to pay if they want to join the debate – and risk a permanent ban from the account that they subscribe with.
The conversation will go back to what it should be about – people who care passionately about the issues, but disagree constructively on what we should do about them. Let’s get that debate started!
Callum Baird, Editor of The National
Comments: Our rules
We want our comments to be a lively and valuable part of our community - a place where readers can debate and engage with the most important local issues. The ability to comment on our stories is a privilege, not a right, however, and that privilege may be withdrawn if it is abused or misused.
Please report any comments that break our rules.
Read the rules here