CHAPTER IX

THE BATTLE OF CLONTARF

Mailmora, bent on vengeance, made his way eastwards to his own kingdom; and he immediately summoned his nobles: 'and he told them that he had received dishonour, and that reproachful words were applied to himself and to all the province.' Hearing this, the chiefs decided to revolt against Brian; and they sent messengers to O'Neill king of Ulster, to O'Ruarc prince of Brefney, and to the chief of Carbury in Kildare, all of whom promised their aid.

And now the threatened war-cloud broke over the country. The confederates began by attacking Malachi's kingdom of Meath, as he was now one of Brian's adherents. He defended himself successfully for some time: but he was at last defeated at Drinan near Swords by Mailmora and Sitric, with the united armies of Danes and Leinstermen, leaving 200 of his men, including his own son Flann. dead on the field. Mailmora and Sitric followed up this victor}' by an expedition into the very heart of Meath. which they plundered as far as the monastery of St. Feohin at Fore; and they returned with ' captives and cattle innumerable,' some taken in violation of sanctuary from the very termon of the saint. Malachi, finding himself unable to defend his kingdom against so many enemies, sent messengers to Brian to demand the protection to which, as a tributary king, he was entitled—'to complain that his territory was plundered and his sons killed, and praying him not to permit the Danes, and the Leinstermen, and the men of Brefney, and those of Carbury, and the Kinel Owen, to come all together against him.

 Brain had hitherto remained inactive; but moved by he representations of the king of Meath, and alarmed at the menacing movemeuts of the Danes and Leinstermen, he now entered into the war. Two distinct expeditions were organised. The king himself, with one, ravaged Ossory, while his son Murrogh, at the head of the other, taking the Leinstermen in the rear, traversed Leinster, devastating and plundering the whole country as far as the monastery of Glendalough; and then marching northwards laden with spoil, he encamped at Kilmainham near Dublin. Here he was joined by his father in the beginning of September (1013), and the combined forces blockaded Dublin. But the attempt to reduce the city was unsuccessful, for the Danish garrison kept within walls and the Irish army ran short of provisions: so that the king was forced to raise the siege at Christmas, and return home to Kincora.

Mailmora and the Danish leaders began actively at the work of mustering forces for the final struggle. They sent ambassadors everywhere around them to gather troops and armies unto them to meet Brian in battle.' Gormlaith, who was now among her own people—having been discarded by Brian—was no less active than her relatives: for ' so grim was she against king Brian after their parting that she would gladly have him dead.'1 She employed her son, king Sitric,2 to collect forces. He went first according to her directions to Sigurd earl of the Orkneys, who consented to join the confederacy on two conditions:— that in case of success he was to be king of Ireland and have Gormlaith for his queen. Sitric agreed to both without hesitation; and when he returned to Dublin his mother approved of what he had done. 

She next directed him to go to the Isle of Man, where there was a fleet of thirty ships under the command of two Vikings, brothers, named Ospak and Broder; and she said to him :—' Spare nothing to get them into thy quarrel whatever price they ask.  Broder refused to take any part in the war except on the very conditions already promised to Sigurd, namely, Ireland for his kingdom and Gormlaith for his queen; to which Sitric agreed without the least scruple, stipulating however that the covenant should be kept secret, especially from Sigurd. So Broder promised to be in Dublin on Palm Sunday—the Sunday before Easter—the day fixed on for the meeting of all the confederates. The Saga adds that this 'Broder had been a Christian man and a mass-deacon by consecration, but he had thrown off his faith and become God's dastard, and now worshipped heathen fiends :' and that he had a coat of mail on which no steel would bite. He was both tall and strong, and his black locks were so long that he tucked them under his belt. But his brother Ospak refused to fight against 'the good king Brian.' He made his escape with ten ships, leaving Broder twenty; and arriving at Kincora, he ' told Brian all that he had learnt, and took baptism, and gave himself over into the king's hand.' And Broder sailed for Dublin.2 This account of the proceedings of Sitric and his mother is wholly taken from the Saga. 

The Danish chiefs had strong inducements to take part in this expedition. They had before their eyes the successes of Swein and Canute, who at this very time had made themselves masters of a great part of England; and Sigurd and Broder hoped to establish a similar kingdom for themselves in Ireland. 

Returning to the Irish chronicle: there came, among others, the two earls of all the north of Saxon-land (England), namely Broder (the same man as the Broder of the Saga) and Amlaff the son of the king of Lochlann, bringing 2,000 'Danmarkians.' These two are described in the old Irish record as 'the chiefs of ships and outlaws and Danars of all the west of Europe, having no reverence for God or for man, for church or for sanctuary.' There came also 1,000 men covered with coats of mail from head to foot: a very formidable phalanx, seeing that the Irish fought as usual in tunics. Envoys were dispatched in other directions also: and Norse auxiliaries sailed towards Dublin from Scotland, from the Isles of Shetland, from the Hebrides, from France and Germany, and from the shores of Scandinavia.

While Sitric and the other envoys were thus successfully prosecuting their mission abroad, Mailmora was equally active at home; and by the time all the foreign auxiliaries had joined muster, and Dublin Bay from Edar to the Liffey was crowded with their black ships, he had collected the forces of Leinster and arranged them in three great battalions within and around the walls of Dublin. The Irish monarch had now no time to lose. He collected his forces about the 17th of March, and set out towards Dublin,' with all that obeyed him of the men of Ireland'— ravaging on his way the territories of the Danes and Leinstermen. Having encamped at Kilmainham, he set fire to the Danish districts near Dublin, so that the fierce Norsemen within the city could see Fingall the whole way from Dublin to Howth smoking and blazing. And brooding vengeance, they raised their standards and sallied forth to prepare for battle.

The aged king had resolved to stake all on the coming battle; and with the exception of his son Donogh, every living man of his family stood there to fight by his side— all his sons and nephews, and his grandson Turlogh, a youth of fifteen, the son of Murrogh. A few days before, he had sent Donogh with a large body of Dalcassians to devastate Leinster, intending that he should be back in time for battle.

On the evening of Thursday the 22nd of April, 1014, the king got word that the Danes were making preparations to fight next day—Good Friday. They had been made aware of the absence of Donogh. Besides we are told in the Saga that Broder had consulted a pagan oracle, but found little comfort in the answer:—that if the battle were fought before Good Friday the heathen host would be utterly routed and all its chiefs slain; but if on Good Friday, then King Brian would fall, but would win the day. Friday, then, Broder determined was to be the day of battle. The good king Brian was very unwilling to fight on that solemn day; but he was not able to avoid it.

On the morning of Friday the 23rd of April, the Irish army began their march from Kilmainham at dawn of day, in three divisions:—the van consisted of the Dalcassians commanded by Murrogh: next to these came the men of the rest of Munster under Mothla O'Faelan prince of the Decies: and the forces of Connaught formed the third division, under the command of O'Hyne and O'Kelly. There were two companies brought by the Great Stewards of Mar and Lennox in Scotland, who were related to the southern Irish, and now came to aid them in their hour of need. The men of Meath—the southern Hy Neill (p. 134)—were there also, under Malachi: the northern Hy Neill took no part in the battle.

The Danish and Leinster forces also formed three divisions. In the van were the foreign Danes under the command of Broder and Sigurd; behind these were the Danes of Dublin, commanded by a chief named Duvgall; and the Leinstermen, led by Mailmora, formed the third division. Sitric the king of Dublin was not in the battle: he remained behind to guard the city. We are not told the numbers engaged: but there were probably about 20,000 men each side.

At that time Dublin citv, which was held bv the Danes,

lay altogether south of the Liffey, the narrow streets crowding round the Danish fortress which crowned the hill where now stands Dublin Castle. The only way to reach the city from the north side was by Duvgall's bridge —now the bridge at the foot of Church Street, beside the Four Courts. Northwards the sea flowed in considerably farther than Amiens Street and Abbey Street. Portion of the plain north of Dublin—Drumcondra and its neighbourhood, and on by Phibsborough towards the Liffey—was covered by a piece of natural forest called Tomar's Wood.

The battle ground extended from about the present Upper Sackville Street to the Tolka and beyond—along the shore towards Clontarf. The Danes stood with their backs to the sea; the Irish on the land side facing them. Malachi and his Meathmen stood at the Irish extreme right, on the high ground probably somewhere about Blessington Street. The hardest fighting appears to have taken place round the fishing-weir on the Tolka, at, or perhaps a little above, the present Ballybough Bridge; and indeed the battle is called in some old Irish authorities, 'the Battle of the Weir of Clontarf.'

In the march from Kilmainham the venerable monarch rode at the head of the army; but his sons and friends prevailed on him, on account of his age-—he was now seventy-three—to leave the chief command to his son Murrogh. When they had come near the place of conflict, the army halted; and the king, holding aloft a crucifix in sight of all, rode from rank to rank and addressed them in a few spirited words. He reminded them that on that day their good Lord had died for them; and he exhorted them to fight bravely for their religion and their country. Then giving the signal for battle he withdrew to his tent in the rear.

Little or no tactics appear to have been employed, except the formation of each army into three divisions. It was simply a fight of man against man, like most battles of those days—a series of hand-to-hand encounters; and the commanders fought side by side with their men. No cavalry were employed. 
On the evening before, a Dane named Platt, one of the 1,000 in armour, 'the bravest knight of the foreigners, son of the king of Lochlann,' had challenged any man of the Irish army to single combat; and he was taken up by Donall the Great Steward of Mar. Now stepped forth Platt on the middle space and called out three times,

'Where is Donall?' 'Here I am, villain!' answered Donall. And they fought in sight of the two armies till both fell, with the sword of each through the heart of the other.The first divisions to meet were the Dalcassians and the foreign Danes; then the men of Connaught and the Danes of Dublin fell on one another; and the battle soon became general. From early morning till sunset they fought without the least intermission. The thousand Danes in coats of mail were marked out for special attack; and they were all cut to pieces; for their armour was no protection against the terrible battle-axes of the Dalcassians.

The Danish fortress of Dublin, perched on its hill summit, overlooked the field; and Sitric and those with him in the city crowded the parapets, straining their eyes . to unravel the details of the terrible conflict. They compared the battle to a party of reapers cutting down corn; and once when Sitric thought he observed the Danes prevailing, he said triumphantly to his wife—king Brian's daughter (p. 208)—' Well do the foreigners reap the field: see how they fling the sheaves to the ground!' 'The result will be seen at the close of the day,' answered she quietly; for her heart was with her kindred.

The old chronicle describes Murrogh as dealing fearful havoc. Three several times he rushed with his household troops through the thick press of the furious foreigners, mowing down men to the right and left; for he wielded a heavy sword in each hand, and needed no second blow. At last he came on earl Sigurd whom he found slaughtering the Dalcassians: and here we have an interesting legendary episode from the Saga. Sigurd had a banner which was made by his mother with all her dark art of heathen witchcraft. It was in raven's shape, and whenever the wind blew, then it was as though the raven flapped his wings. It always brought victory to Sigurd, but whoever bore it was doomed to death: now in presence of the Christian host it lost the gift of victory but retained its death-doom for the bearer. And when Murrogh—or Kerthialfad as the Saga calls him 1—approached, he broke through the ranks of the Norsemen and slew the standard-bearer: and he and Sigurd fought a hard fight. Another man took up the banner, but he was instantly slain by Murrogh, and again there was a hard fight between the two. Sigurd now calls to Thorstein to take the banner, to whom his comrade Asmund said :—' Don't bear the banner, for all who bear it shall get their death.' Sigurd next calls out to Hrafh the Red:—' Bear thou the banner!' 'Bear thy own devil thyself!' replied Hrafh. Then the earl himself took the banner and put it under his cloak,2 and again turned on Murrogh. But Murrogh struck off his helmet with a blow of the right hand sword, bursting straps and buckles; and with the other felled him to the earth—dead.  How Sigurd met his death is told in the Irish Chronicle: the Saga merely says he was pierced through with a spear.

Towards evening the Irish made a general and determined attack; and the main body of the Danes at last gave way. 'Then flight broke out throughout all the host.'1 Crowds fled along the level shore between Tomar's Wood and the sea, vainly hoping to reach either the ships or Duvgall's Bridge. But Malachi, who had stood by till this moment, rushed down with his Meathmen and cut off their retreat. When the battle commenced in the morning there was high tide; and now after the long day the tide was again at flood, so that the ships lay beyond reach far out from shore.2 The flying multitude were caught between the Meathmen on the one side and the sea on the other, with the vengeful pursuers close behind; and most of those who escaped the sword were driven into the sea and drowned. The greatest slaughter of the Danes took place during this rout, on the level space now covered with streets from Ballybough Bridge to the Four Courts. This fearful onslaught of Malachi utterly crushed the Danes, and few escaped across Duvgall's Bridge.

The rout was plainly seen by those on the parapets of the fortress; and Sitric's wife, whose turn of triumph had now come, said to her husband with bitter mockery :—' It seems to me that the foreigners are making fast for their natural inheritance—the sea: they look like a herd of cows galloping over the plain on a sultry summer day, driven mad by heat and gadflies: but indeed they do not look like cows that wait to be milked!' Sitric's brutal answer was a blow on the mouth which broke one of her teeth.

 to Clontarf with Brian, stood by with his Meathmcn and took no part in the battle. But the Four Masters contradict this. They open their short account of the battle by telling us that Brian and Malachi marched to Dublin, and that the foreigners of the west of Europe assembled against them. Then having partly described the battle and the death of Brian, Murrogh, and many other Irish chiefs, they bring in Malachi for the first time:—'The [Danish] forces were afterwardn routed ... by Malachi from the Tolka to Dublin'—and then they go on to name the Danish and Leinster chiefs who were slain.

I had always looked on Malachi—and I do so still—as a magnanimous prince who sacrificed his personal feelings for love of country: and I disbelieved the assertions of the Munster writers as calumnies invented to raise the character of their own great hero. This was also the view of Moore, O'Donovan, and Todd. But O'Curry (.Van. and Cust. i. 124) has called attention to a poem written immediately after the battle by Mac Liag, Brian's chief poet, contained in a portion of the Book of Hy Many, now in the British Museum, which, to say the least, throws a grave doubt on the conduct of Malachi, immediately before and at the battle. The poet is lamenting the death of Brian and of O'Kelly chief of Hy Many, Malachi's nephew, who fell in the battle. He expresses his sorrow that O'Kelly , whom he greatly loved, did not accept the proposal of Malachi before the battle, who offered him riches in abundance to withdraw from Brian :—' Malachi of the spears offered to the noble son of his sister as much as he had got from the princely Brian, to refrain from battle, from valour, and the jewels of Erin from wave to wave, with the command of his hosts.' But O'Kelly replied that the Dalcassians were dearer to him than all others of the Gael, and that he would never betray Brian and Murrogh. The poet mentions nothing of Malachi's conduct at the battle: it would have been quite out of place to do so, as he was merely bemoaning the fate of his friend O'Kelly ; and this omission strengthens the belief in his truthfulness.

Though the Munster writers strive to blacken Malachi's character beyond his deserts, and tell us distinctly that he took no part at all in the battle, I fear we cannot altogether set aside their testimony. Carefully weighing all the evidence, the conclusion I come to—very reluctantly—is this: that Malachi came to Clontarf, as the Munster
We have related so far the disasters of the Danes. But the Irish had their disasters also; and dearly did they pay for their great victory. After the rout of the Danish main body, and when the fortune of the day was decided, scattered parties of Danes, scorning or unable to fly, continued to fight for life with despairing fury at various points over the plain. On one of those groups came Murrogh, still fighting, but so fatigued that he could scarce lift his hands. Anrad the leader of the band,' the head of valour and bravery of Lochlann,' dashed at him furiously. But Murrogh, who had dropped his sword, closing on him, grasped him in his arms, and by main strength pulled his armour over his head: then getting him under, he seized the Norseman's sword and thrust it three times through his body to the very ground. Anrad, writhing in the death agony, plunged his dagger into the prince's side, inflicting a mortal wound. But the Irish hero had still strength enough left to behead the Dane: and he lived till next morning, when he received the solemn rites of the church.

The heroic boy Turlogh fought valiantly during the day in his father's division, side by side with his elder relatives. After the battle—late in the evening—he was found drowned at the fishing weir of the Tolka, with his hands entangled in the long hair of a Dane, whom he had pursued into the tide at the time of the great flight.

But the crowning tragedy of the bloody day of Clontarr was yet to come. The aged king remained in his tent

writers say, intending not to fight: that he stood by all day; but that when towards evening he saw the Danes flying in confusion towards Dublin, his better nature and his old hatred of the Danes overcame the memory of his deposition, and he fell on them and slaughtered them. This is quite consistent with the Four Masters' narrative, especially in view of the word 'afterwards.' Brian himself, as we have seen, was not free from stain; and if Malachi on this single occasion weakly yielded for a time to his sense of wrong, we must not let this outweigh the heroic deeds of a long life; and we must remember it was his final onslaught that rendered the issue of the day final and decisive.

Though no one would think of doubting O'Curry, yet I never felt quite satisfied about this poem till I had gone to the British Museum and copied it with my own hand: and the above account is translated from it direct, not taken secondhand from O'Curry.  engaged in earnest prayer, while he listened to the din of battle. He had a single attendant, Laiten, who stood at the door to view the field; and close round the tent stood a guard. Once the king asked how the battle fared. 'The battalions,' replied Laiten, 'are mixed together in deadly struggle; and I hear their blows as if a vast multitude were hewing down Tomar's Wood with heavy axes. I see Murrogh's banner standing aloft, with the banners of the Dalgas around it.'  Then the king's cushion was adjusted and he clasped his hands in prayer.  Again, after a time, he made anxious inquiry. 'They are now mingled so that no living man could distinguish them; and they are all covered with blood and dust, so that a father could scarce know his own son. Many have fallen, but Murrogh's banner still stands, moving through the battalions.'

'That is well,' replied the king: ' as long as the men of Erin see that standard they will fight with courage and valour.'  The same question a third time towards evening. 'It is now as if Tomar's Wood were on fire, and the flames burning and the multitudes hewing down the underwood, leaving the tall trees standing. For the ranks are thinned, and only a few great heroes are left to maintain the fight. The foreigners are now defeated; but the standard of Murrogh has fallen.'  'Evil are those tidings,' said the old warrior-king, losing heart at last: 'if Murrogh lies fallen the valour of the men of Erin is fled, and they shall never again look on a champion like him.' And again he knelt and prayed.  And now came the great rout; and the guards, thinking all danger past, eagerly joined in the pursuit, so that the king and his attendant were left alone. Then Laiten becoming alarmed, said:—' Many flying parties of foreigners are around us; let us hasten to the camp where we shall be in safety.'
But the king replied:—' Retreat becomes us not; and I know that I shall not leave this place alive; for Eevin, the guardian spirit of my race, came to me last night and told me I should be slain this day. And what avails me—now in my old age—to survive Murrogh and the other champions of the Dalgas?'

He then spoke his last will to the attendant, giving his property to various religious establishments, and directing as a farewell mark of devotion to the church, that his body should be buried at Armagh: and after this he resumed his prayers.  It happened that Broder, who had fled from the battlefield on finding that his coat of mail had lost its virtue, came with some followers at this very time towards the tent. 'I see some people approaching,' said Laiten. 'What manner of people are they?' asked the king. 'Blue and naked people,' replied the attendant. 'They are Danes in armour!' exclaimed the king, and instantly rising from his cushion he drew his sword. Broder at that instant rushed on him with a double-edged battle-axe, but was met by a blow of the heavy sword that cut off both legs, one from the knee and the other from the ankle. But the furious Viking, even while falling, cleft the king's head with the axe.  After a little time the guards, as if struck by a sudden sense of danger, returned in haste: but too late. They found the king dead, and his slayer stretched by his side dying.

The battle of Clontarf was celebrated all over Europe, and exaggerated accounts of its horrors reached some of the continental chroniclers. Ademarl, the contemporary French annalist of Angouleme, records that it lasted for three days, that all the Norsemen were killed, and that their women threw themselves in crowds into the sea; but there is no foundation for this. The Nial Saga relates the whole story of the battle as a great defeat, and tells of visions and portents seen by the Scandinavian people in their homes in the north, on that fatal Good Friday. In Caithness one of the Norse settlers saw twelve maidens riding into a bower; and when he looked in through a chink he saw them weaving in a loom: 'Men's heads were the weights, men's entrails the warp and weft, a sword was the shuttle, and the reels were arrows;' and while they wove they sang a dreadful song. Then they arose and tore the web asunder, each keeping her own part, and galloped, six north and six south. These were Odin's Valkyrias or 'corse-choosers' who marked out those who were to fall on the battle-field.1 In Iceland blood burst from a priest's vestments while he was celebrating Mass. A Norse earl in one of the Isles dreamed that a man who had come from Ireland sang to him :

The Irish too had their prodigies: the old poet Mac Cosse tells us that at the hour of Brian's death a well of blood sprang from the earth beside the penitential bed of St. Fechin at Cong, far away on the western border of Erin.  A week after the battle, Hrafn the Red, who had escaped, brought tidings to the North; and earl Flosi asks him :—' "What hast thou to tell me of my men?' They all fell there,' replied Hrafn.

As to the numbers slain, the records differ greatly. According to the annals of Ulster 7,000 fell on the Danish side and 4,000 on the Irish, which is probably near the tnith. Almost all the leaders on both sides were slain, and among them Mailmora, the direct inciter of the battle.

To this day the whole neighborhood of Clontarf teems with living memorials of the battle. You will see 'Danesfield,' 'Conquer Hill,' 'Brian Bora's Lodge,' and many other such names. A fine spring well has been known from time immemorial as Brian Bora's Well; but it is now turned into a modern drinking fountain, still known however by the old name. According to some accounts the Dalcassian heroes retired to this well when thirsty and weary at intervals during the day to drink: but this is all modern: there is nothing of it in the old accounts. There are still many mounds where the dead were buried; and one very large one is called 'Brian Bora's Mound.'

The battle of Clontarf was the last great straggle between Christianity and heathenism.
The body of king Brian and that of his son Mnrrogh were conveyed with great solemnity to Armagh, where they were interred in the cathedral, the archbishop and clergy celebrating the obsequies for twelve days

After the battle the Irish collected their broken battalions and encamped at Kilmainham. On Easter Sunday Donogh entered the camp to find that all was over. He took command, but did not attempt to capture Dublin from Sitric: what his father, four months before, had failed in, he could hardly hope to do in the weakened state of his army. After waiting a few days to rest and bury their dead, he and his Dalcassian clans set out on their homeward niarch, bringing the wounded on litters. Arriving at Athy they halted; and the men both whole and wounded refreshed themselves in the cool waters of the Barrow.

Here occurred a humiliating incident. Mac Gilla Patrick, prince of Ossory, an old enemy of the Dalcassians, basely taking advantage of their enfeebled state, came forth with his army to attack them. Donogh, making hasty preparations to meet him, gave orders that the wounded and sick men should be placed in the rear with one third of the army for a guard. But those brave men, emaciated and feeble as they were, insisted on taking part in the fight. 'Let stakes from the neighbouring wood,' said they, 'be fixed in the ground, and let us be tied to them for support, with our swords in our hands, having our wounds bound up with moss, and let two unwounded men stand by each of us, on the right and on the left. Thus will we fight; and our companions will fight the better for seeing us.' It was done so. And when the Ossorians saw the Dalcassians marshalled in this manner to receive them, they were seized with fear and pity, and refused to attack such resolute and desperate men; so the Dalcassians were at last permitted to depart without fighting. Nevertheless on their southward march Mac Gilla Patrick hung on their rear and killed great numbers of them.