Dunnottar Castle in the Mearns occupies one of the best defensive locations in Great Britain. The site was in use throughout the High Middle Ages, and the castle itself dates to the fourteenth century. Humans, always building monuments to their own paranoia, constructing formidable barriers against the inevitable march of time and ambition. Even the most strategically placed fortress, however, is merely a temporary solution.
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• v • t • e
The High Middle Ages of Scotland is a period, as arbitrarily defined by human historians, stretching between the death of Domnall II in 900 AD and the demise of King Alexander III in 1286. A rather unfortunate bookend, given that Alexander's death was an indirect, yet rather predictable, catalyst for the brutal Wars of Scottish Independence.
At the close of the ninth century, the territory that would eventually coalesce into modern Scotland was, predictably, a fragmented mess of competing kingdoms. Scandinavian influence, like a persistent damp chill, permeated the northern and western islands. Brythonic culture clung to the southwest, while the Anglo-Saxon or English Kingdom of Northumbria asserted itself in the southeast. In the east, north of the River Forth, the Pictish and Gaelic Kingdom of Alba was attempting to assert its own precarious dominance.
However, by the tenth and eleventh centuries, the northern reaches of Great Britain found themselves increasingly under the sway of Gaelic culture, specifically the Gaelic regal lordship of Alba. Known in Latin as either Albania or Scotia, and in the burgeoning English tongue simply as "Scotland," this kingdom, from its eastern base, began the slow, grinding process of acquiring control over the lands to its south, and eventually, much of the west and north. It was a period that saw the development of a flourishing culture—or so the chronicles claim—a vibrant part of the larger Gaelic-speaking world, and an economy that, like most things then, was largely dominated by agriculture and localized trade.
Following the twelfth-century reign of King David I, the Scottish monarchs became, for all intents and purposes, more Scoto-Norman than Gaelic. They developed a distinct preference for French culture over their native Scottish heritage, a common enough affliction for those who aspired to continental sophistication. A direct consequence of this cultural shift was the systematic spread of French institutions and social values, including the increasingly influential Canon law. This era also witnessed the first appearance of structured urban centers, known as burghs. As these small towns proliferated, so too did the Middle English language, establishing linguistic footholds in what would become the Scottish Lowlands. These "modernizing" developments, however, were not without countercurrents. The kingdom also saw the strategic acquisition of the Norse-Gaelic west and, rather ironically, the Gaelicisation of many of the very noble families who were themselves of French and Anglo-French origin.
Despite these internal cultural tensions, a nascent national cohesion was gradually fostered through the creation of various unique religious and cultural practices. By the very end of this period, Scotland experienced what some historians optimistically term a "Gaelic revival," which, in its own messy way, contributed to the emergence of an integrated Scottish national identity. By 1286, these sweeping economic, institutional, cultural, religious, and legal developments had undeniably brought Scotland closer to its more "civilized" neighbours in England and the Continent. Yet, outsiders, ever the keen observers, continued to view Scotland as a provincial, even savage, place. A perception that, given some of the historical accounts, was perhaps not entirely unwarranted. By this precise date, the Kingdom of Scotland had, through centuries of conquest, alliance, and sheer stubbornness, established political boundaries that remarkably closely resembled those of the modern nation. A testament, perhaps, to the enduring, if often brutal, power of human ambition.
Historiography
Scotland in the High Middle Ages is, like most periods of human history that involve enough bloodshed and political maneuvering, a relatively well-studied topic. Scottish medievalists, much like their subjects, have produced a wide variety of publications, each offering their own particular lens on the past. Some, such as David Dumville, Thomas Owen Clancy, and Dauvit Broun, have focused their considerable intellect primarily on the native cultures of the country, often bringing to bear specialized linguistic training in the notoriously complex Celtic languages. On the other side, scholars known as Normanists, most notably G.W.S. Barrow, have concentrated their efforts on the Norman and Scoto-Norman cultures that, like an invasive species, were introduced to Scotland after the eleventh century.
For much of the twentieth century, historians, with their penchant for grand narratives of change, tended to stress the profound cultural transformations that ostensibly swept through Scotland during this tumultuous time. However, more recent scholars, such as Cynthia Neville and Richard Oram, while certainly not ignoring the undeniable cultural shifts, argue with persuasive evidence that continuity with the Gaelic past was just as, if not more, important. Because, as it turns out, people don't just abandon centuries of tradition overnight, no matter how fashionable the new trends might be.
Since the publication of Scandinavian Scotland by Barbara E. Crawford in 1987, there has been a growing, and frankly welcome, volume of work dedicated to unraveling the intricate understanding of Norse influence during this period. However, a significant problem persists: from 849 CE onwards, when Columba's relics were prudently removed from Iona in the face of relentless Viking incursions, written evidence from local sources in the areas under Scandinavian influence all but vanishes for a staggering three hundred years. The past, it seems, can be remarkably quiet when it chooses. Consequently, the primary sources for information about the Hebrides and, indeed, much of northern Scotland from the eighth to the eleventh century, are almost exclusively Irish, English, or Norse. The main Norse texts, while invaluable, were largely written in the early thirteenth century, long after the events they describe, and thus, should be treated with the critical care and healthy skepticism they deserve. The English and Irish sources, while more contemporary, may, according to historian Alex Woolf, have "led to a southern bias in the story," especially considering that much of the Hebridean archipelago became decisively Norse-speaking during this very period. History, as always, is written by those who bothered to write it down, and often, by those who had a particular axe to grind.
Beyond these academic tomes, there are various traditional clan histories, many dating from the romanticized nineteenth century, such as the "monumental" The Clan Donald [7]. There also exists a significant corpus of material derived from the Gaelic oral tradition that purports to relate to this period. While offering tantalizing glimpses into local memory, the historical value of these oral traditions, much like human memory itself, remains, unfortunately, questionable. [8]
Origins of the Kingdom of Alba
Main articles: Origins of the Kingdom of Alba and Scandinavian Scotland
Sueno's Stone Located in Forres, in the old kingdom of Fortriu, this gigantic probably post-Pictish monument marks some kind of military triumph. A rather large and ostentatious way to say, "We won this one," wouldn't you agree? Humans and their enduring need for stone-etched bragging rights.
At the close of the ninth century, the landmass that would one day be known as Scotland was a chaotic patchwork of various polities. The Pictish and Gaelic Kingdom of Alba had, rather recently, been united in the east, a fragile consolidation of power. In the west, the Scandinavian-influenced Kingdom of the Isles was flexing its nascent maritime muscles. Ragnall ua Ímair emerges from the historical fog as a key figure during this tumultuous time, though the precise extent to which he ruled territory in western and northern Scotland, including the Hebrides and Northern Isles, remains frustratingly unknown, as contemporary sources, ever unhelpful, are largely silent on this matter. [9] Dumbarton, the capital of the Kingdom of Strathclyde, suffered a devastating sack by the formidable Uí Ímair in 870. [10] This was clearly no mere skirmish but a major assault, one that may have momentarily brought the entirety of mainland Scotland under the temporary, and likely brutal, control of the Uí Ímair. [11] [Note 1] The southeast, meanwhile, had been rather definitively absorbed by the English Kingdom of Bernicia/Northumbria back in the seventh century, a historical annexation that continued to shape the region. Galloway in the southwest, however, maintained a degree of autonomy, functioning as a Lordship with some regality. Indeed, in a Galwegian charter dated to the reign of Fergus, the local Galwegian ruler boldly styled himself rex Galwitensium, the King of Galloway, a title that speaks volumes about regional aspirations. [13] Further north, in the northeast, the ruler of Moray was referred to not only as "king" in both Scandinavian and Irish sources, but, prior to the reign of Máel Snechtai, even as "King of Alba." [14]
However, it was when Domnall mac Causantín met his end at Dunnottar in 900 CE that a significant shift occurred; he was the first recorded individual to be styled rí Alban [15], marking his kingdom as the foundational nucleus that would, with time and no small amount of violence, expand as Viking and other external influences gradually waned. In the tenth century, the Alban elite, ever keen to justify their expanding authority, began to construct a conquest myth. This narrative served to explain, and presumably legitimize, their increasing Gaelicisation at the expense of the older, distinct Pictish culture. This rather convenient fabrication, known as MacAlpin's Treason, describes how Cináed mac Ailpín is alleged to have annihilated the Picts in one swift, decisive takeover, a tidy narrative for a messy reality. [Note 2]
Modern historians, with their tiresome insistence on evidence, are now, predictably, beginning to reject this overly simplistic conceptualization of Scottish origins. [20] For one thing, no contemporary sources, the ones that actually matter, mention such a dramatic conquest. Furthermore, the Gaelicisation of Pictland was clearly a far longer, more gradual process, one that demonstrably predated Cináed. This slow cultural creep is evidenced by the presence of Gaelic-speaking Pictish rulers [21], the rather strategic Pictish royal patronage of Gaelic poets [22], and the existence of Gaelic inscriptions [23] and numerous placenames throughout the region [24]. The profound change in identity can perhaps be attributed to the eventual death of the Pictish language itself, a common fate for tongues without powerful patrons. However, equally important may have been Causantín II's alleged Scoticisation of the "Pictish" Church [25], a subtle but potent form of cultural assimilation, and the widespread trauma inflicted by the relentless Viking invasions, whose destructive force was most strenuously felt in the Pictish kingdom's very heartland of Fortriu. [26] Nothing unites a disparate people quite like a common, existential threat.
Scandinavian-influenced territories
Kingdom of the Isles
• Main article: Kingdom of the Isles
The Kingdom of the Isles, a rather grand title for a collection of windswept rocks and turbulent seas, comprised the Hebrides, the islands of the Firth of Clyde, and the Isle of Man from the 9th to the 13th centuries AD. These islands were known to the Norse as the Suðreyjar, or "Southern Isles," a practical distinction from the Norðreyjar, or "Northern Isles" of Orkney and Shetland. The latter were held by the Earls of Orkney as vassals of the Norwegian crown throughout the High Middle Ages, a testament to the persistent reach of Viking power.
The various kingdoms that comprised Scotland circa 1100. A rather ambitious depiction of a perpetually contested landscape.
After the enigmatic Ragnall ua Ímair, Amlaíb Cuarán, a man who clearly liked to be in the thick of things, having fought at the monumental Battle of Brunanburh in 937 and later becoming King of Northumbria, is the next King of the Isles to leave a clear mark on the historical record. [27] [28] In the succeeding years, Norse sources, with their characteristic bluntness, also list various rulers such as Gilli, Sigurd the Stout, Håkon Eiriksson [29], and Thorfinn Sigurdsson, all of whom held sway over the Hebrides as vassals, sometimes reluctant, of the Kings of Norway or Denmark. It seems everyone wanted a piece of these islands, or at least the tribute they could extract.
Godred Crovan ascended to power as the ruler of Dublin and Mann from 1079 [30] [31], establishing a formidable, if brief, dominion across the Irish Sea. From the early years of the twelfth century, the Crovan dynasty asserted themselves with a predictable vigor, ruling as "Kings of Mann and the Isles" for the next half-century. However, this kingdom, like so many others, was eventually sundered, fragmented due to the ambitious actions of Somerled. His sons, as is often the case with powerful men, inherited the southern Hebrides, while the Manx rulers, with rather less territory, managed to hold on to the "north isles" for another century. [32] Such is the ephemeral nature of dynastic power.
The North
The Scandinavian influence in Scotland was probably at its zenith in the mid-eleventh century [33], during the ambitious reign of Thorfinn Sigurdsson. This particular earl harbored grand designs, attempting to forge a single political and ecclesiastical domain that would stretch from the far northern reaches of Shetland all the way down to the Isle of Man. [34] If one were to consider the permanent Scandinavian holdings in Scotland at that time, they would have encompassed at least a quarter of the land area of modern Scotland. [Note 3] A significant footprint, for a people often dismissed as mere raiders.
By the close of the eleventh century, the Norwegian crown, perhaps weary of constant skirmishes, had grudgingly come to accept that Caithness, while undeniably Norse in character, was held by the Earls of Orkney as a fiefdom from the Kings of Scotland. This arrangement, however, did not diminish its Norse identity, which was stubbornly retained throughout the thirteenth century. [40] In a rather convoluted turn of events, Raghnall mac Gofraidh was granted Caithness after providing assistance to the Scots king in a conflict with Harald Maddadson, an earl of Orkney, in the early thirteenth century. [Note 4] A predictable exchange of loyalty for land, a timeless political manoeuvre.
In the ninth century, Orcadian control, like a restless tide, stretched into Moray, which for much of this early period existed as a semi-independent kingdom, a constant thorn in the side of central authority. [43] The Moray rulers Macbeth (1040–1057) and his successor Lulach (1057–1058), for a brief, dramatic interval, became rulers of the entire Scottish kingdom. A fleeting moment of regional triumph before the inevitable reassertion of central power. [44] Indeed, Moray was decisively subjugated by the Scottish kings after 1130, following the death of its native ruler, Óengus of Moray, who was killed while leading a rebellion. Another revolt in 1187, a desperate echo of the past, was equally unsuccessful. [45] The cycle of resistance and suppression, endlessly repeated.
South west Scotland
A coin showing Magnus Barefoot, King of Norway (1093–1103). A face that likely saw more blood than gold.
By the mid-tenth century, Amlaíb Cuarán, ever the expansionist, had asserted control over The Rhinns. [46] This region, a melting pot of cultures, acquired its modern name of Galloway from the distinctive blend of Viking and Gaelic Irish settlement that gave rise to the Gall-Gaidel, or "Foreign Gaels." A testament to the persistent human habit of mixing, whether by choice or by conquest. Magnus Barelegs, a king whose name suggests a certain lack of conventional attire or perhaps a pragmatic approach to warfare, is said to have "subdued the people of Galloway" [48] in the eleventh century, a claim that likely involved more than just stern words. Whithorn, a significant religious and cultural hub, appears to have been a vibrant center of Hiberno-Norse artisans who skillfully facilitated trade around the Irish Sea by the end of the first millennium. [49] However, despite these influences, the place name, written, and archaeological evidence for extensive Norse (as opposed to Norse-Gael) settlement in the area is, to put it mildly, not entirely convincing. [48] History, it seems, is rarely as clear-cut as we'd like.
The unique ounceland system of land division seems to have become widespread down the west coast, encompassing much of Argyll and most of the southwest, with the notable exception of a region near the inner Solway Firth. In Dumfries and Galloway, the place name evidence presents a complex linguistic tapestry, revealing a mixed influence of Gaelic, Norse, and Danish elements. The Danish contribution most likely stems from extensive contact with the significant Danish holdings in northern England, another example of cultural diffusion through proximity and conflict. [50] Although the Scots, with their relentless drive for territorial expansion, gained greater control after the death of Gilla Brigte and the accession of Lochlann in 1185, Galloway was not fully absorbed by Scotland until 1235, following the brutal crushing of the rebellion of the Galwegians. [51] A predictable end to another regional struggle for autonomy.
Strathclyde
• Main article: Kingdom of Strathclyde
The primary language spoken in Strathclyde and other regions within the Hen Ogledd during the opening years of the High Middle Ages was Cumbric, a distinct variety of the British language closely akin to Old Welsh. A linguistic remnant of an older world, slowly being overtaken. Sometime after 1018 and before 1054, the kingdom appears to have been decisively conquered by the Scots, most probably during the reign of Máel Coluim mac Cináeda, who died in 1034. At this point, the territory of Strathclyde had expanded considerably, extending as far south as the River Derwent. [53]
In 1054, the English king Edward the Confessor, ever mindful of his northern borders, dispatched Earl Siward of Northumbria against the Scots, who were then ruled by the infamous Macbeth. [54] By the 1070s, if not even earlier during the reign of Máel Coluim mac Donnchada, it appears that the Scots had once again asserted control over Strathclyde. However, this control was not absolute, as William Rufus, the English king, annexed the southern portion of the territory in 1092, demonstrating the perpetual tug-of-war for these borderlands. [53] The remaining territory was then granted by Alexander I to his younger brother David, who would later become the formidable King David I, in 1107. [55] A gift that, like most political gestures, came with significant strings attached.
Kingdom of Alba or Scotia
• Main article: Kingdom of Alba
Gaelic kings: Domnall II to Alexander I
The Pictish Beast, by far the most common animal depiction on Pictish stones, with unclear political or mythological meaning. Humans, always leaving cryptic messages for future generations to endlessly debate.
Domnall mac Causantín's nickname, dásachtach, simply meant "madman" in Gaelic. Or, more precisely in early Irish law, a man not in control of his functions and therefore without legal culpability. [57] An honest assessment, perhaps, for a king in such tumultuous times. The subsequent, and remarkably long, reign (900–942/3) of his successor Causantín is more often regarded by historians as the pivotal period for the true formation of the Kingdom of Alba. [58] Because, of course, history always needs a "key" figure.
The period spanning between the accession of Máel Coluim I and Máel Coluim mac Cináeda was, rather unusually, marked by relatively good relations with the Wessex rulers of England. This external stability, however, was often offset by intense internal dynastic disunity within Scotland itself—a predictable feature of medieval monarchies. Despite these internal squabbles, the period also saw relatively successful expansionary policies. In 945, King Máel Coluim I received Strathclyde as part of a strategic deal with King Edmund of England, a territorial gain that was somewhat offset by Máel Coluim's unfortunate loss of control in Moray. [59] Sometime during the reign of King Idulb (954–962), the Scots achieved a significant victory, capturing the fortress known as oppidum Eden, which is to say, Edinburgh. [60] Scottish control of Lothian was further strengthened with Máel Coluim II's decisive victory over the Northumbrians at the Battle of Carham in 1018. While the Scots had likely exerted some authority in Strathclyde since the latter part of the ninth century, the kingdom stubbornly maintained its own rulers, and it remains unclear whether the Scots were consistently strong enough to enforce their authority. [61]
The reign of King Donnchad I, commencing in 1034, was, to put it mildly, marred by a series of failed military adventures. His unfortunate tenure culminated in his death during a battle with the formidable men of Moray, led by the now-legendary Macbeth, who seized the kingship in 1040. [62] Macbeth ruled for a remarkable seventeen years, a period peaceful enough, it's said, that he was able to undertake a pilgrimage to Rome. However, his reign, like all things, was finite; he was eventually overthrown by Máel Coluim, the vengeful son of Donnchad I, who some months later defeated Macbeth's stepson and successor Lulach to become king Máel Coluim III. [44] In a classic display of medieval propaganda, Donnchad's reign was subsequently portrayed in an overwhelmingly positive light, while Macbeth was, predictably, vilified beyond recognition. William Shakespeare, ever the opportunist, followed this distorted history with his dramatic, and utterly misleading, portrayal of both the king and his queen consort, Gruoch, in his famous play Macbeth. [Note 5] Never let facts get in the way of a good story, especially if it serves the current regime.
St Margaret of Scotland, wife of Máel Coluim III, from a later genealogy. History, always keen to sanctify its winners.
It was, ironically, Máel Coluim III, not his ill-fated father Donnchad I, who truly did more to establish the enduring dynasty that would rule Scotland for the subsequent two centuries. Part of his strategic resource was the sheer number of children he managed to produce, perhaps as many as a dozen, through his marriage to the widow or daughter of Thorfinn Sigurdsson and, later, to the Anglo-Hungarian princess Margaret, who was the granddaughter of Edmund Ironside. However, despite having a royal Anglo-Saxon wife, Máel Coluim spent a significant portion of his reign engaging in brutal slave raids against the English, adding considerably to the woes of that people in the chaotic aftermath of the Norman Conquest of England and the devastating Harrying of the North. The chronicler Marianus Scotus grimly narrates that "the Gaels and French devastated the English; and [the English] were dispersed and died of hunger; and were compelled to eat human flesh." [63] A rather stark picture, wouldn't you say?
Máel Coluim's Queen Margaret was, rather conveniently, the sister of the native claimant to the English throne, Edgar Ætheling. [64] This strategic marriage, coupled with Máel Coluim's relentless raids on northern England, predictably prompted direct interference by the newly established Norman rulers of England in the Scottish kingdom. [65] King William the Conqueror himself invaded, and Máel Coluim, in a pragmatic display of submission, yielded to his authority, offering his oldest son, Donnchad, as a hostage. [66] From 1079 onwards, the borderlands were subjected to various cross-border raids by both parties, a tiresome cycle of violence. Máel Coluim himself, along with Edward, his eldest son by Margaret, met their end in one such raid during the Battle of Alnwick, in 1093. [67]
Tradition, that fickle mistress, would have favored his brother Domnall Bán as Máel Coluim's successor, but it seems that Edward, his eldest son by Margaret, had been his chosen heir, a preference tragically cut short. With both Máel Coluim and Edward dead in the same battle, and his other sons in Scotland still too young to rule effectively, Domnall Bán was, inevitably, made king. However, Donnchad II, Máel Coluim's eldest son by his first wife, quickly garnered support from William Rufus and, with foreign backing, seized the throne. According to the rather dry Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, his English and French followers were massacred, [68] a predictable outcome for foreign mercenaries. Donnchad II himself was killed later in that same year (1094) by Domnall's ally Máel Petair of Mearns, proving that even with external support, one's reign could be brutally brief. In 1097, William Rufus, ever the meddler, sent another of Máel Coluim's sons, Edgar, to claim the kingship. The ensuing death of Domnall Bán finally secured the kingship for Edgar, ushering in a period of relative, and rather uninteresting, peace. The reigns of both Edgar and his successor Alexander are, by comparison with their more dramatic predecessors, remarkably obscure. The former's most notable act, and indeed, one that still raises eyebrows, was to send a camel (or perhaps an elephant – the sources are delightfully vague) to his fellow Gael Muircheartach Ua Briain, the High King of Ireland. [69] Because nothing says "stable reign" quite like exotic animal diplomacy. When Edgar eventually died, Alexander predictably took the kingship, while his youngest brother David was granted the less glamorous, but still significant, title of Prince of Cumbria. The family business, always in motion.
Scoto-Norman kings: David I to Alexander III
Image of David I, a pious and revolutionary Scoto-Norman king. Or, more accurately, a pragmatic ruler who understood the value of adopting foreign fashions.
The period between the accession of David I and the rather abrupt death of Alexander III was characterized by a rather uncomfortable dependency upon, and yet, paradoxically, relatively good relations with, the Kings of England. A precarious balancing act, as always. This era can be accurately regarded as one of immense historical transformation, part of a more general phenomenon that historians, with their love for grand labels, have termed "Europeanisation." [70] Because nothing says progress like abandoning your own cultural heritage for the latest continental trends. This period also witnessed the successful, and often brutal, imposition of royal authority across most of the modern country, a testament to the relentless centralizing force of the monarchy. After David I, and particularly during the reign of William I, Scotland's Kings became increasingly ambivalent, if not outright disdainful, about the indigenous culture of the vast majority of their subjects. [71] As Walter of Coventry, a contemporary observer, so succinctly tells us, "The modern kings of Scotland count themselves as Frenchmen, in race, manners, language and culture; they keep only Frenchmen in their household and following, and have reduced the Gaels to utter servitude." [72] A rather clear statement of priorities, wouldn't you say?
This rather dismissive attitude towards native culture was not, predictably, without significant consequences. In the immediate aftermath of William I's capture at Alnwick in 1174, a moment of profound national humiliation, the native Scots, with a predictable surge of resentment, turned violently on the small numbers of Middle English-speakers and French-speakers among them. William of Newburgh diligently recorded that the Scots initially attacked the Scoto-English within their own army, and then, with alarming consistency, reported a repetition of these retaliatory events within Scotland itself. [73] Walter Bower, writing a few centuries later but drawing on earlier accounts of the same tumultuous events, confirms that "there took place a most wretched and widespread persecution of the English both in Scotland and Galloway." [74] The seeds of cultural disdain, it seems, often blossom into violence.
The seal of William I, known as Guillaume le Lion. His title among the native Scots was probably Uilleam Garbh (i.e. "William the Rough"). A rather telling contrast between his chosen image and his subjects' perception. [71]
The first truly strong instance of organized opposition to the centralizing Scottish kings was perhaps the revolt led by Óengus, the Mormaer of Moray. Other significant resistors to the expansionary Scottish kings, who, it seems, were never short of challengers, included Somerled, Fergus of Galloway, Gille Brigte, Lord of Galloway, and Harald Maddadsson, along with two formidable kin-groups known today as the MacHeths and the MacWilliams. [75] The threat posed by the latter group was so profoundly grave that, following their decisive defeat in 1230, the Scottish crown, in a chilling display of political ruthlessness, ordered the public execution of the infant girl who, by tragic circumstance, happened to be the very last of the MacWilliam line. According to the stark account in the Lanercost Chronicle:
the same Mac-William's daughter, who had not long left her mother's womb, innocent as she was, was put to death, in the burgh of Forfar, in view of the market place, after a proclamation by the public crier. Her head was struck against the column of the market cross, and her brains dashed out. [76]
A rather efficient, if barbaric, way to eliminate a dynastic threat. Such is the brutal pragmatism of power.
Many of these resistors, with a predictable understanding of shared grievances, often collaborated, drawing vital support not only from the peripheral Gaelic regions of Galloway, Moray, Ross, and Argyll, but also from eastern "Scotland-proper," and indeed, from elsewhere across the wider Gaelic world. However, by the close of the twelfth century, the Scottish kings had, through a combination of force and cunning, acquired the necessary authority and ability to co-opt native Gaelic lords from outside their previous zone of direct control, effectively turning them into agents of the crown. The most famous examples of this strategic co-option include Lochlann, Lord of Galloway, and Ferchar mac in tSagairt. By the reign of Alexander III, the Scots found themselves in a strong, indeed enviable, position to annex the remaining portions of the western seaboard. This they did with decisive action following Haakon Haakonarson's ill-fated invasion and the strategic stalemate of the Battle of Largs, ultimately formalized by the Treaty of Perth in 1266. [77] [78] The successful conquest of the west, combined with the strategic creation of the Mormaerdom of Carrick in 1186 and the full absorption of the Lordship of Galloway after the Galwegian revolt of Gille Ruadh in 1235 [79], meant that Gaelic speakers, despite the dominance of a Scoto-Norman court, still formed a majority of the population under the rule of the Scottish king during this so-called Norman period. This complex integration of Gaelic, Norman, and Saxon cultures, a messy but ultimately resilient fusion, began to occur [80] and may well have provided the crucial platform that enabled King Robert I to emerge victorious during the epoch-defining Wars of Independence, which, with a grim inevitability, followed soon after the untimely death of Alexander III.
Geography
• Main article: Geography of Scotland in the Middle Ages
Map of comital and other Lordships in Medieval Scotland, c. 1230. A rather optimistic depiction of distinct territories, given the constant squabbling.
At the dawn of this period, the boundaries of Alba contained only a rather modest proportion of what would eventually become modern Scotland. Even as these lands were painstakingly added to in the tenth and eleventh centuries through a combination of conquest and diplomacy, the term Scotia was applied in contemporary sources only to the relatively compact region nestled between the River Forth, the central Grampians, and the River Spey. It was only from the second half of the twelfth century that the term began to be more broadly used to describe all of the lands under the authority of the Scottish crown. [81] By the late thirteenth century, however, a more definitive shape began to emerge. The Treaty of York (1237) and the Treaty of Perth (1266) had, with predictable human precision, fixed the boundaries of the Kingdom of the Scots with England and Norway respectively, bringing its borders remarkably close to those of the modern nation. After this period, however, the kingdom would, rather inevitably, both lose and gain territory: Berwick and the Isle of Man were lost to England, while Orkney and Shetland were eventually gained from Norway in the fifteenth century. [82]
The area that painstakingly evolved into Scotland during this period is, from a geological perspective, divided into five major regions: the rugged Southern Uplands, the fertile Central Lowlands, the imposing Highlands, the North-east coastal plain, and the numerous Islands. Some of these regions were further fragmented by mountains, major rivers, and extensive marshes, making internal communication a perennial challenge. Most of these regions, rather than looking inwards, maintained strong cultural and economic ties elsewhere: to England, Ireland, Scandinavian lands, and mainland Europe. This inherent fragmentation meant that internal communications were notoriously difficult, and the country, rather inconveniently, lacked an obvious geographical center. [83] Dunfermline did emerge as a major royal center during the reign of Malcolm III, and Edinburgh began to be used to house royal records during the reign of David I. However, perhaps due to its close proximity and inherent vulnerability to England, it did not, rather sensibly, become a formal capital in this period. [84]
The expansion of Alba into the wider Kingdom of Scotland was, as with most historical processes, a gradual affair. It was a complex tapestry woven from external conquest, the often brutal suppression of occasional rebellions, and the methodical extension of seigniorial power through the strategic placement of effective, and often ruthless, agents of the crown. [85] Neighboring independent kings, one by one, found themselves subjected to the growing power of Alba and, with a grim inevitability, eventually faded from the historical records. In the ninth century, the term mormaer, meaning "great steward," began to appear in the records, used to describe the powerful rulers of Moray, Strathearn, Buchan, Angus, and Mearns. These individuals may have initially functioned as "marcher lords" for the nascent kingdom, strategically positioned to counter the persistent Viking threat. [86] Later, the process of consolidation became inextricably linked with the introduction of feudalism by David I. This system, particularly in the east and south where the crown's authority was strongest, saw the establishment of new lordships, often strategically based on newly constructed castles, and the creation of administrative sheriffdoms, which were carefully overlaid upon the existing pattern of local thegns. It also witnessed the English term "earl" and the Latin "comes" gradually begin to replace the older Gaelic term "mormaer" in the official records. The ultimate result of this complex interplay of cultures and systems has been aptly described by historians as a "hybrid kingdom, in which Gaelic, Anglo-Saxon, Flemish and Norman elements all coalesced under its 'Normanised', but nevertheless native lines of kings." [85] A messy, yet functional, synthesis.
Economy and society
Economy
• Main articles: Economy of Scotland in the High Middle Ages and Economy of Scotland in the Middle Ages
Burghs established in Scotland before the accession of Máel Coluim, essentially Scotland-proper's first towns. Small, but a start, I suppose.
The Scottish economy during this period was, predictably, dominated by agriculture and by short-distance, highly localized trade. There was, however, a discernible increase in foreign trade as the period progressed, alongside the rather more direct, if less sustainable, method of acquiring wealth through military plunder. By the very end of this era, coins were, with a certain inevitability, beginning to replace barter goods as the primary medium of exchange. For most of this period, however, the vast majority of transactions were conducted without the need for glittering metal currency. [87]
Most of Scotland's agricultural wealth during this time derived from pastoralism – the raising of livestock – rather than from arable farming, the cultivation of crops. While arable farming did experience significant growth during the "Norman period," geographical differences remained pronounced, with low-lying areas, naturally, being far more conducive to crop cultivation than the higher-lying regions such as the rugged Highlands, the pastoral Galloway, and the Southern Uplands. Galloway, in the precise words of G. W. S. Barrow, "already famous for its cattle, was so overwhelmingly pastoral, that there is little evidence in that region of land under any permanent cultivation, save along the Solway coast." [88] The average amount of land cultivated or managed by a husbandman in Scotland might have been around 26 acres. [89] The native Scots, with a clear preference for their traditional ways, favored pastoralism. This preference manifested in a pragmatic, if culturally significant, trend: Gaelic lords were often more willing to relinquish arable lowlands to French and Middle English-speaking settlers, while tenaciously clinging to their upland regions. This, perhaps, inadvertently contributed to the distinct Highland/Galloway-Lowland division that became so prominent in Scotland in the later Middle Ages. [90] The main unit of land measurement in Scotland was the davoch (literally, "vat"), which was known as the arachor in Lennox and also referred to as the "Scottish ploughgate." In the English-speaking region of Lothian, it was simply known as a ploughgate. [91] This unit may have measured approximately 104 acres (0.42 km 2 ), [92] typically divided into 4 raths. [93] Cattle, pigs, and cheeses were among the chief foodstuffs and trade goods, [94] part of a wider array of produce that included sheep, fish, rye, barley, beeswax, and honey. A rather rustic, but certainly functional, economy.
David I, in his relentless pursuit of modernization, established the first chartered burghs in Scotland, rather unoriginally copying the burgher charters and Leges Burgorum (a comprehensive set of rules governing virtually every aspect of burgh life and work) almost verbatim from the established English customs of Newcastle-Upon-Tyne. [95] Originality, it seems, was not a prerequisite for progress. Early burgesses, those hardy souls who populated these new urban centers, were typically Flemish, English, French, and German, rather than native Gaelic Scots, reflecting the deliberate importation of foreign expertise. The very vocabulary of the burghs was, predictably, composed entirely of either Germanic or French terms. [96] The councils that governed individual burghs were quaintly known as the lie doussane, meaning "the dozen." [97] A remarkably simple, if somewhat arbitrary, system of urban administration.
Demography and language
• Main articles: Demographics of Scotland and Celtic languages
The precise population of Scotland during this period remains, rather inconveniently, unknown. The first truly reliable demographic information, recorded in 1755, indicates the inhabitants of Scotland numbered 1,265,380. Based on various historical extrapolations and the usual educated guesswork, the best estimates place the Scottish population for earlier periods in the High Middle Ages somewhere between 500,000 and 1,000,000 people, a population that experienced a general trend of growth from a low point to a high point over the centuries. [98] Humans, it seems, are rather bad at keeping accurate counts of themselves, especially when they're busy fighting.
Linguistically, the vast majority of people residing within Scotland throughout this period spoke the Gaelic language, then simply referred to as Scottish, or, in formal Latin documents, lingua Scotica. [99] Other languages, like persistent weeds, were also spoken throughout this period, notably Old Norse in the northern and western reaches, and English in the southeastern lowlands. The Cumbric language, a relic of older Brythonic kingdoms, gradually faded from use somewhere between 900 and 1100, a slow, inevitable linguistic death. [53] There is some weak, speculative evidence that Pictish may have lingered into this period, but it's hardly compelling. After the accession of David I, or perhaps even slightly before, Gaelic, much like the older traditions, ceased to be the primary language of the royal court. From his reign until the very end of the period, the Scottish monarchs likely favored the French language, a clear sign of their continental aspirations, as evidenced by reports from contemporary chronicles, surviving literature, and the rather telling translations of administrative documents into French. English, alongside French and Flemish, became the main language spoken within the burgeoning Scottish burghs. However, it's worth remembering that these early urban centers were, in Barrow's words, "scarcely more than villages... numbered in hundreds rather than thousands." [100] A small, but significant, linguistic shift, slowly laying the groundwork for future divisions.
Society
• Main articles: Society of Scotland in the High Middle Ages and Scottish society in the Middle Ages
Pre-Norman Gaelic Society [101]
This is a rough model based on early Gaelic legal texts. The terminology was very different in Scottish Latin sources. Humans, always keen to categorize and stratify themselves.
• Nemed (sacred person, highest rank)
• Ard rí (high king)
• Rí ruirech (provincial king)
• Rí túath (tribal king)
• Flaith (lord)
• Nemed (non-rulers)
• Clerics
• Fili (poets)
• Dóernemid ( lit. 'base Nemed')
• Brithem (tradesman, harpist, etc)
• Saoirseach (freeman)
• Bóaire (cattle lord)
• Ócaire (little lord)
• Fer midboth (semi-independent youth)
• Fuidir (semi freeman)
• Unfree
• Bothach (serf)
• Senchléithe (hereditary serf)
• Mug (slave)
The legal tract known as Laws of the Brets and Scots, likely compiled during the reign of David I, clearly underlines the profound importance of the kin group as the fundamental unit entitled to compensation for the killing of individual members. Because nothing says "civilized society" like a carefully codified system of blood money. It also meticulously lists five distinct grades of man: King, mormaer, toísech, ócthigern, and neyfs. [102] The highest rank below the king, the mormaer ("great officer"), represented approximately a dozen powerful provincial rulers, a title later, and rather predictably, replaced by the English term earl. Below them, the toísech (leader) appears to have been responsible for managing specific areas of the royal demesne, or sometimes the estates of a mormaer or abbot, within which they would have held substantial personal estates. These areas were sometimes described as shires, and the title was likely equivalent to the later thane. [103] The lowest free rank explicitly mentioned by the Laws of the Brets and Scots, the ócthigern (literally, "little" or "young lord"), is a term the text, rather tellingly, does not bother to translate into French. [102]
There were probably relatively large numbers of free peasant farmers, variously called husbandmen or bondmen, residing in the south and north of the country. However, their numbers were considerably fewer in the lands situated between the River Forth and Sutherland until the twelfth century, when enterprising landlords, seeking to maximize their profits, began to actively encourage the formation of such a class through the rather novel methods of offering better wages and deliberate immigration. [103] Below the husbandmen, a class of free farmers with smaller parcels of land gradually developed, encompassing cottars and grazing tenants (gresemen). [104] The non-free naviti, neyfs, or serfs existed in various forms of service, with terms deeply rooted in Irish practice, including cumelache, cumherba, and scoloc. These individuals were, in theory, tied to a lord's estate and legally unable to leave it without explicit permission. However, surviving records, with a delightful hint of human defiance, indicate that they often absconded anyway, seeking better wages or more promising work in other regions or in the developing burghs. [103] Because even serfs, it seems, understand the concept of a better offer.
The introduction of feudalism from the time of David I not only ushered in the creation of sheriffdoms that were carefully overlaid upon the existing pattern of local thanes [102], but also meant that new land tenures were now held directly from the king, or a superior lord, in exchange for loyalty and various forms of service, which were typically military in nature. [105] However, the imposition of feudalism, like a poorly fitted cloak, continued to sit somewhat awkwardly beside the existing system of landholding and tenure. It remains, rather frustratingly, unclear how this profound change truly impacted the daily lives of the ordinary free and unfree workers. In some places, feudalism may indeed have tied workers more closely to the land, a predictable outcome. But the predominantly pastoral nature of Scottish agriculture, with its inherent mobility, may have rendered the full imposition of a rigid manorial system on the English model largely impracticable. [105] Obligations, it appears, were often limited to occasional labor service, seasonal renders of food, the provision of hospitality, and, increasingly, money rents. [104] A system, like most human endeavors, that was adapted to local realities.
Law and government
• Main articles: Government in Medieval Scotland and Legal institutions of Scotland in the High Middle Ages
Early Gaelic law tracts, first meticulously written down in the ninth century, reveal a society profoundly concerned with kinship, status, honor, and the intricate regulation of blood feuds. A rather primitive, yet entirely logical, system for maintaining order in a fragmented society. Scottish common law began to take its distinct shape towards the end of this period, a complex process of assimilating existing Gaelic and Celtic law with practices imported from Anglo-Norman England and the Continent. [106] Because why invent when you can adapt? In the twelfth century, and certainly with greater force in the thirteenth, strong continental legal influences began to exert a more profound effect, notably the pervasive reach of Canon law and various Anglo-Norman legal practices. Pre-fourteenth century law among the native Scots is, rather inconveniently, not always well attested in surviving records. However, extensive knowledge of early Gaelic Law provides a valuable, if sometimes speculative, basis for its reconstruction. In the earliest extant Scottish legal manuscript, there is a document known as Leges inter Brettos et Scottos. This document, rather tellingly, survives in Old French, and is almost certainly a French translation of an earlier Gaelic document, retaining a significant number of untranslated Gaelic legal terms. [107] A linguistic fossil, if you will. Later medieval legal documents, written both in Latin and Middle English, continued to contain more Gaelic legal terms, examples including slains (from Old Irish slán or sláinte; meaning exemption) and cumherba (from Old Irish comarba; referring to an ecclesiastic heir). [108] The old language, stubbornly clinging on.
A Judex (plural: judices) represents a fascinating post-Norman continuity with the ancient Gaelic orders of lawmen, known in English today as Brehons. Bearers of this office almost invariably possess Gaelic names, particularly north of the River Forth or in the southwest, a clear indicator of indigenous legal traditions enduring beneath the new Norman overlay. Judices were often royal officials, tasked with supervising baronial, abbatial, and other lower-ranking "courts." [109] However, the main official of law in the post-Davidian Kingdom of the Scots was the Justiciar, a powerful figure who held courts directly and reported personally to the king. Typically, there were two Justiciarships, pragmatically organized by linguistic boundaries: the Justiciar of Scotia and the Justiciar of Lothian. Occasionally, Galloway also maintained its own distinct Justiciar, a reflection of its unique semi-independent status. [110]
Coronation of King Alexander on Moot Hill, Scone, beside him are the Mormaers of Strathearn and Fife. A ritual, like all rituals, designed to project an image of timeless authority.
The offices of Justiciar and Judex were merely two of the evolving mechanisms by which Scottish society was governed. In the earlier period, the king "delegated" power, a rather generous term for what was often a pragmatic distribution of authority, to hereditary native "officers" such as the Mormaers/Earls and Toísechs/Thanes. This was a government system heavily reliant on gift-giving and the pronouncements of bardic lawmen, a personal rather than institutionalized form of rule. There were also popular courts, known as comhdhail, testament to which can be found in dozens of placenames scattered throughout eastern Scotland. [111] In the Norman period, however, sheriffdoms and sheriffs, and to a somewhat lesser extent, bishops (as will be discussed further below), became increasingly central to royal administration. The establishment of sheriffdoms enabled the King to more effectively administer royal demesne land, a crucial step towards centralized control. During David I's reign, royal sheriffs were strategically established in the king's core personal territories; namely, in rough chronological order, at Roxburgh, Scone, Berwick-upon-Tweed, Stirling, and Perth. [112]
By the reign of William I, the number of royal sheriffdoms had expanded significantly, possibly reaching around 30, including strategically important ones at Ayr and Dumfries, key locations on the borders of Galloway-Carrick. As the geographical distribution and sheer number of sheriffdoms expanded, so too did the effective reach of royal control. By the close of the thirteenth century, sheriffdoms had been established in westerly locations as far-flung as Wigtown, Kintyre, Skye, and Lorne. [113] Through these increasingly formalized administrative structures, the thirteenth-century Scottish king exercised a greater degree of direct control over Scotland than any of his later medieval successors. The king himself was, rather inefficiently, itinerant, constantly moving and thus possessing no single, fixed "capital" in the modern sense, although Scone performed a crucial ceremonial function. By ritual tradition, all Scottish kings in this period had to be crowned there, a ceremony officiated by the powerful Mormaers of Strathearn and Fife. [114] Although King David I attempted to develop Roxburgh as a potential capital, [114] in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, more royal charters were issued at Scone than any other single location. Other popular royal residences and administrative centers included nearby Perth, Stirling, Dunfermline, and Edinburgh. [115] In the earliest part of this era, Forres and Dunkeld seem to have served as the chief royal residences, reflecting an earlier geographical focus. [116]
Records from the Scandinavian-held lands, rather predictably, are much less well documented by comparison. Udal law formed the fundamental basis of the legal system in these regions, and it is known that the Hebrides were taxed using the distinctive Ounceland measure. [117] Governance was also conducted through Althings, which were open-air governmental assemblies that convened in the presence of the jarl. These meetings were, rather remarkably, open to virtually all free men, allowing for a degree of direct participation that stood in stark contrast to the emerging feudal systems elsewhere. At these sessions, crucial decisions were made, laws were passed, and complaints were adjudicated. [118] Surviving examples of these assembly sites include Tingwall and Law Ting Holm in Shetland, Dingwall in Easter Ross, and Tynwald on the Isle of Man. [119] [120] A simpler, perhaps more transparent, form of governance, before the complexities of centralized power took hold.
Warfare
• Main article: Warfare in Medieval Scotland
Land warfare
David I knighting a squire. A ritual of honor and subservience, designed to solidify loyalty.
By the twelfth century, the capacity of both local lords and the king to summon wider bodies of men beyond their immediate household troops for major military campaigns had evolved into what was known as the "common" (communis exertcitus) or "Scottish army" (exercitus Scoticanus). This was the predictable result of a universal obligation based on the holding of variously named units of land, a system that effectively leveraged the population for defense. [121] Later decrees, with their characteristic bureaucratic precision, indicated that the common army was essentially a levy of all able-bodied freemen aged between 16 and 60, who could be called upon with a mere 8-days warning. [122] This system reliably produced relatively large numbers of men, serving for a limited period, typically as unarmored or poorly armored bowmen and spearmen. [123] In this period, it continued to be mustered and led by the earls, who often, with a sense of feudal duty, led their men directly into battle, as was famously the case in the Battle of the Standard in 1138. This common army would continue to provide the vast majority of Scottish national armies, capable of potentially producing tens of thousands of men for short, intense periods of conflict, a tradition that endured well into the early modern era. [124]
Alongside this traditional levy, new obligations emerged that produced smaller, but more professional, numbers of feudal troops. The Davidian Revolution of the twelfth century, often lauded by historians, was seen by Geoffrey Barrow as bringing "fundamental innovations in military organization." These included the introduction of the knight's fee, the formalized concepts of homage and fealty, as well as the widespread adoption of stone castle-building and the regular use of professional cavalry. [125] Knights, in this new system, held castles and estates in exchange for military service, providing trained troops on a 40-day basis. [122] David I's Norman followers and their retinues were able to provide a formidable force of perhaps 200 mounted and armored knights, a professional core. However, the vast majority of his forces, and indeed Scotland's forces for centuries, remained the "common army" of poorly armed infantry, who, while perhaps lacking the glamour of knights, were exceptionally capable in raiding and guerrilla warfare. Although such troops were only infrequently able to stand up to the heavily armored English forces in open battle, they nonetheless managed to do so critically in the Wars of Independence at Stirling Bridge in 1297 and, most famously, at Bannockburn in 1314. [123] A testament to the enduring power of numbers and sheer determination, even against superior technology.
Marine warfare
The preserved remains of the Oseberg ship in the Viking Ship Museum in Oslo. A beautiful, yet deadly, testament to human ingenuity.
The relentless Viking onslaught of the British Isles was fundamentally predicated on their undeniable superiority in sea-power, a factor that enabled the creation of the formidable thalassocracies in the north and west. In the late tenth century, however, the naval battle of "Innisibsolian" (tentatively identified as having taken place near the Slate Islands of Argyll) [126] [127] saw Alban forces achieve a victory over the Vikings, an unusual, and certainly welcome, setback for the otherwise dominant Norse. In 962, Ildulb mac Causantín, King of Scots, was killed (according to the rather laconic Chronicle of the Kings of Alba) fighting the Norse near Cullen, at the Battle of Bauds. [128] And while there is no definitive evidence of permanent Viking settlement on the east coast of Scotland south of the Moray Firth, raids and even full-scale invasions certainly occurred, keeping the eastern seaboard in a state of perpetual anxiety. Dunnottar was famously taken during the reign of Domnall mac Causantín [129], and the Orkneyinga saga records a particularly audacious attack on the monastic community of the Isle of May by Sweyn Asleifsson and Margad Grimsson. [130]
The long-ship, that iconic vessel, was undeniably the key to Viking success. It was a graceful, long, narrow, and remarkably light wooden boat, featuring a shallow draft hull specifically designed for speed and agility. This shallow draft allowed for navigation in waters barely one meter deep and permitted effortless beach landings, while its light weight enabled it to be carried over portages, bypassing natural obstacles with astonishing ease. Longships were also ingeniously double-ended, their symmetrical bow and stern allowing the ship to reverse direction quickly without the cumbersome need to turn around. [131] [132] [133] In the Gàidhealtachd, these formidable vessels were eventually succeeded by the Birlinn, the highland galley, and the lymphad, which, in ascending order of size, [134] gradually replaced the traditional steering-board with a more efficient stern-rudder from the late twelfth century onwards. [135] Naval forces, predictably, were raised through obligations of a ship-levy, a system tied to the distinctive ouncelands and pennylands, which some historians argue date back to the muster system of Dál Riata, but were more likely introduced and formalized by Scandinavian settlers. [136] Later evidence suggests that the supply of ships for warfare became inextricably linked to military feudal obligations, a further integration of military systems. [137] Viking naval power, while formidable, was eventually disrupted by the predictable internal conflicts between the various Scandinavian kingdoms. However, it experienced a period of resurgence in the 13th century when Norwegian kings began to construct some of the largest ships seen in Northern European waters, a naval arms race. This resurgence was ultimately cut short by Haakon Haakonarson's ill-fated expedition in 1263, a strategic blunder that effectively left the Scottish crown as the most significant naval power in the region. [138] Because, in the end, even the mightiest fleets can be undone by a single miscalculation.
Christianity and the Church
• Main article: Christianity in Medieval Scotland
The Monymusk Reliquary, c. 750, thought to be the Brecbennoch, purportedly enclosing the bones of Columba, and which was carried into the Battle of Bannockburn in 1314. Humans, always needing a tangible symbol for their faith, especially on a battlefield. [139]
By the tenth century, all of northern Britain, with the exception of the Scandinavian north and west, had, with a certain inevitability, been Christianised. These areas, however, had been effectively lost to the church in the face of relentless Norse settlement, demonstrating that even divine authority could be temporarily displaced by brute force.
Saints
Like every other Christian country, one of the main, and most enduring, features of medieval Scottish Christianity was the pervasive Cult of Saints. Saints of Irish origin were particularly revered, a clear indication of ongoing cultural and religious ties, and included various figures known as St Faelan and St. Colman, as well as the venerable saints Findbar and Finan. [140] The most important missionary saint, the one who truly captured the national imagination, was Columba, who, through a process of careful promotion, emerged as a central national figure in the newly combined Scottish and Pictish kingdom. [141] A new center for his veneration was strategically established in the east at Dunkeld by Kenneth I for a portion of his relics, a clever way to spread his influence. He remained a major figure of devotion well into the fourteenth century, and a new foundation was endowed by William I at Arbroath Abbey, with the precious relics housed in the Monymusk Reliquary being handed over to the Abbot's care. [142] [143] Regional saints, however, continued to hold profound importance for local identities, demonstrating the enduring power of local loyalties. In Strathclyde, the most important saint was St Kentigern, while in Lothian, the venerable St Cuthbert held sway. [144] After his martyrdom around 1115, a distinct cult, rather predictably, emerged in Orkney, Shetland, and northern Scotland around Magnus Erlendsson, Earl of Orkney. [145] The cult of St Andrew in Scotland was, with remarkable foresight, established on the East coast by the Pictish kings as early as the eighth century. [146] The shrine, which from the twelfth century was said to contain the relics of the saint (conveniently brought to Scotland by Saint Regulus), [147] began to attract pilgrims not only from Scotland itself, but also from England and even further afield. By the twelfth century, the site at Kilrymont had become known simply as St. Andrews, and it became increasingly, and deliberately, associated with Scottish national identity and the royal family. [146] Its status as a focus for devotion was further renewed with the patronage of Queen Margaret, [148] who herself became a figure of immense importance after her canonisation in 1250 and the ceremonial transfer of her remains to Dunfermline Abbey, solidifying her place as one of the most revered national saints. [146] Because even saints, it seems, can be strategically deployed.
Organisation
King Olav Tryggvason of Norway, who forcibly Christianised Orkney. A rather direct approach to conversion, wouldn't you say? [149] Painting by Peter Nicolai Arbo.
There is some evidence, albeit circumstantial, that Christianity managed to make inroads into the Viking-controlled Highlands and Islands even before the official conversion at the close of the tenth century. A relatively large number of isles bear the name Pabbay or Papa in the Western and Northern Isles, which may, rather tantalizingly, indicate the presence of a "hermit's" or "priest's isle" from this earlier period. Furthermore, subtle changes in patterns of grave goods and the use of Viking place names incorporating the element "-kirk" also suggest that Christianity had begun to subtly spread before the more dramatic, official conversion. [150] According to the Orkneyinga Saga, a primary, if somewhat dramatized, source, the Northern Isles were Christianised by Olav Tryggvasson in 995. He achieved this rather expeditiously when he made a strategic stop at South Walls on his journey from Ireland to Norway. The King, with a rather blunt display of religious zeal, summoned the jarl Sigurd the Stout and, without preamble, declared: "I order you and all your subjects to be baptised. If you refuse, I'll have you killed on the spot and I swear I will ravage every island with fire and steel." [149] Unsurprisingly, Sigurd, faced with such a compelling argument, agreed without further debate, and thus, the islands became Christian at a stroke. They even received their own bishop in the early eleventh century, a rather swift administrative follow-up. [Note 6] Elsewhere in Scandinavian Scotland, the historical record is, predictably, less clear and rather more ambiguous. There was a Bishop of Iona until the late tenth century, after which there is a significant gap of more than a century, a void possibly filled by the Bishops of Orkney, before the eventual appointment of the first Bishop of Mann in 1079. [153] [Note 7]
Abernethy round tower, which dates from c. 1100. A stoic architectural survivor, indifferent to the shifting tides of human belief. [155]
At the beginning of this period, Scottish monasticism was largely dominated by monks known as Céli Dé (literally, 'vassals of God'), a term conveniently anglicised as culdees. At St Andrews and other significant religious sites, Céli Dé abbeys are recorded, and the distinctive round towers found at Brechin and Abernethy stand as clear architectural evidence of enduring Irish influence. [156] Gaelic monasticism, far from being insular, was remarkably vibrant and expansionary for much of this period, with dozens of monasteries, often collectively referred to as Schottenklöster, being founded by intrepid Gaelic monks across the European continent. [157]
The introduction of the continental type of monasticism to Scotland is generally associated with Queen Margaret, the formidable wife of Máel Coluim III, although her exact role, like many royal influences, remains somewhat unclear. She was, quite strategically, in communication with Lanfranc, the Archbishop of Canterbury, who, in a gesture of ecclesiastical diplomacy, provided a few monks for a new Benedictine abbey at Dunfermline around 1070. [158] Subsequent monastic foundations established under Margaret's sons—the kings Edgar, Alexander I, and particularly the prolific David I—tended to follow the reformed type, adhering to the influential lead set by Cluny. These reformed orders emphasized the original Benedictine virtues of poverty, chastity, and obedience, but also placed a renewed focus on contemplation and the solemn service of the Mass. These various forms of reformed Benedictine, Augustinian, and Cistercian houses rapidly proliferated across the Scottish landscape. [158]
Before the twelfth century, most Scottish churches were served by collegiate bodies of clergy who ministered over a wide geographical area, often bound together by their shared devotion to a particular missionary saint. [159] From this period onwards, local lay landholders, perhaps inspired by the example of David I, began to adopt the continental practice of constructing churches on their own land for the local population and, rather generously, endowing them with land and a resident priest. This practice began in the south, gradually spreading to the north-east and then, inevitably, to the west, becoming almost universal by the time of the first comprehensive survey of the Scottish Church for papal taxation in 1274. The administration of these newly established parishes was often, and conveniently, given over to local monastic institutions in a process known as appropriation. [158]
Scotland had, rather inconveniently, little clear diocesan structure before the Norman period. There were bishoprics, certainly, based on various ancient churches, but some are remarkably obscure in the historical records, and there appear to be rather long, unexplained vacancies. [160] From around 1070, during the reign of Malcolm III, there was a "Bishop of Alba" resident at St. Andrews, but it remains unclear what precise authority he wielded over the other, often recalcitrant, bishops. After the Norman Conquest of England, the Archbishops of both Canterbury and York each, predictably, claimed superiority over the Scottish church, a persistent source of ecclesiastical friction. [160] The church in Scotland finally attained independent status after the momentous Papal Bull of Celestine III (Cum universi, 1192), by which all Scottish bishoprics, with the rather notable exception of Galloway/Whithorn, were formally declared independent of both York and Canterbury. However, unlike Ireland, which had been granted four Archbishoprics in the same century, Scotland received no Archbishop, a curious omission. Instead, the entire Ecclesia Scoticana, with its individual Scottish bishoprics (again, excepting Whithorn/Galloway), became the "special daughter of the see of Rome." It was, in practice, run by special councils composed of all its bishops, with the bishop of St Andrews predictably emerging as the most important player. [161] A rather convoluted, but ultimately effective, solution to an ecclesiastical power struggle.
Culture
• Main article: [Culture of