On the other side of the screen the women watched in wonder the efficient Sisters, as they smiling and using a combination of sign language and play acting, arranged their washing, then dressed them in clean long robes. Food and water was eagerly consumed as none had eaten in two days.
Father Jowan, Abbot of Lios mór, bustled in to discuss the arrival of the Picts and to greet Abbot Colmán. The ex-Abbot of Lindisfarne was up and about. His face was still swollen but that didn’t stop him complaining about his treatment at the hands of the Dunadd Scotti. When asked if he wanted to stay at Lios mór or go on to Iona, Colmán quite emphatically stated he would not stay anywhere near the Dal Riata. He would visit Iona but then go on to Ireland. (Colmán returned to Ireland and formed a monastery on the remote island of Inishbofin, which means ‘island of the white cow’. He died there in 675)
* * * * *
It was late afternoon when the other two boats reached Lios mór. Brother Bryan’s boat guided them into the bay below the monastery. Culann, now in a new clean off-white woollen habit came to meet them.
The Picts were initially reluctant to leave their boats. However when Sinead ran out to meet them and tell how well they had been treated, particularly by the Irish Sisters, they overcame their apprehension and allowed her to walk them to one of the guest houses which had been made ready.
Brother Bryan indicated to Fergus, who had just disembarked from the second boat to join him, together with Culann and Abbot Colmán. “Friends we have a problem with the Picti.” Bryan stated with a worried brow. “They seem to be arguing amongst themselves. Luckily they have no weapons, but I fear further bloodshed.”
“What is the cause?” asked Colmán. “Can you enlighten us Master Fergus?”
Fergus shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “From what I hear, these people come from two different tribes. They are all Albannach people, or what you call Picti, but as you know we are not known for forming alliances, even against a common enemy. If someone comes from a different tribe, which may even be located in the next valley, they are not trusted. I gather one of these two groups came from a large island while the second were from a valley on the mainland. They have always been enemies.
“Yes” continued Bryan “I think the ‘large island’ is what we call Eilean a' Cheò (‘Isle of the Mist’ - now known as the Isle of Skye). If I remember correctly our beloved Saint Columbus actually visited it sometime around 565 Anno Domini.”
“Well it seems after rescuing these Picts from slavery, our next task is to return them to their homelands.” mused Colmán.
“But this is the winter season.” observed Bryan. “It is dreadful weather to travel, particularly by boat.”
“I don’t think the Picts want to stay at Lios mór or Iona.” said Fergus “They all want to home as quickly as possible.”
“Well that’s understandable.” said Colmán looking at Bryan. “How do we get them home?”
“By boat is the only way. We will just have to brave the winter weather. I will offer to take them.” said Bryan quietly.
“I will help. You will need two boats” said Culann quickly.
“Me too!” chimed in Fergus grinning widely. What an adventure.
* * * * *
And so it was agreed that Brothers Bryan and Culann together with Fergus, would lead the four women and sixteen Picti men back to their homeland in the northern Hebridean islands. Sinead decided to stay on at Lios mór until her brother had recovered, which took some weeks. However she was so impressed with the Sisters and the work they were doing she decided to remain and eventually joined the Monastery. There she was to learn about Christianity but more so, to learn the many skills needed to tend the sick and injured.
It was decided to take the original four oared curach which had a sail together with one of the larger six oared boats. The sailors who had manned the curach from Iona agreed to continue. The Picts manning the second boat would take turns at the oars.
Culann and Fea were able to see each other fleetingly during the five days it took to provision the two curachs. When Fea asked on their last evening together when he would be returning, Culann could only answer softly “As soon as I can. According to Brother Bryan who has travelled these parts more than most, it could take between eight to ten days. It depends on the weather.”
“You will keep out of trouble, wont you?” asked Fea.
“I have Fergus to look after me,” smiled Culann as he felt her head rest on his shoulder. They sat watching the dark clouds scud across the new moon. Fea wondered how long it would be before they could sit and watch the moon like this again. She had a feeling of deep foreboding it would be much longer than ten days.
Back to top
Ω Ω Ω Ω Ω
Chapter 4 – North to Albannach Territory
The two heavily laden curachs departed Lios mór early morning on Christmas Eve. Father Jowan tried in vain to convince them to delay their departure until Christmas had been celebrated, but Brother Bryan argued convincingly that they had good sailing weather, with the wind from the south-east and no rain. It was best to strike out when the weather was kind. January was understood by all to bring the worst of the winter weather.
Fea, together with her Sisters, Father Jowan, Abbot Colmán, Brother Hesus and a number of monks waved bon voyage to the travelers as they slowly pulled away from the harbor and then disappeared around the far headland. Sinead also joined the farewell briefly. Her brother was improving but still confined to his pallet in the infirmary.
The six sailors from Iona agreed to crew the first boat, which also contained four Picti women and two Picti youths plus Brother Bryan acting as navigator. The second larger boat had six pairs of oars but no sail. It carried the balance of fourteen Picti males, plus Culann and Fergus.
Brother Bryan advised before they launched that it was better to sail down Loch Linnhe to the southern tip of Lios mór, then turn north-west up the Sound of Mull between the mainland and the Isle of Mull. If they continued past the long western shoreline of Mull to Iona, it would take much longer. Time was of the essence as the favorable weather would not last.
Although the sky was overcast and the wind from the south-east gusting dangerously at times, the hills on Mull offered some protection and they made good time. The projected destination for the first day was the Celtic monastery at the top of the Sound of Mull, Ardslignish. The men in the second boat rotated in rowing as they were not as skilled in handling their craft as the Iona sailors. Culann and Fergus also took their turn, Culann joking he needed to do it to keep warm.
The sun was glimpsed briefly low in the sky through scudding clouds as they turned to port into Loch Sunart. Straight ahead was a small cove with a white sandy beach. Above the beach were a group of wooden buildings; Ardslignish. By the time they had landed and dragged their boats up the beach above the high water mark, a gathering crowd of monks and some local villagers hurried down to greet them. Ardslignish did not receive many visitors.
Abbot Morann was the first to welcome them as they disembarked. He warmly embraced Brothers Bryan and Culann, as it was they who had arranged for him to be given the post of Abbot over two years ago. Fergus and the other Picts were made welcome as well, which surprised them as the villagers were Scotti Dál Riata. “If you come in peace we are very happy to see you.” explained one of the villagers to Fergus. “We do not receive much news of the outside world, here in our little community.”
There was some confusion initially with the Picts’ clothing. Because they were attired in the same off-white garments worn by Celtic monks, it was assumed by all that they too were monks. Brother Bryan explained how the Picts had been captured as slaves by Scotti at Dunadd and freed by the Iona monks and Abbot Colmán, late of Lindisfarne. Now they were on their way back to their homelands in the Hebrides’. At that the Dál Riata villagers applauded. There seemed to be little love lost between them and their southern kin.
Darkness was upon th
em as they were ushered into the only guest house at the monastery. After washing and changing their clothes they were invited into the refectory where a substantial hot meal (by Celtic monks’ standards) was served. When Brother Bryan complemented Abbot Morann on the abundance and variety of the food they had partaken, the Abbot replied “Brothers in God, we have been saving this feast to celebrate Christmas tomorrow. But despite our entreaties to stay and celebrate with us, you have decided to press on with your journey at first light tomorrow. Therefore I instructed our kitchen staff to serve our celebratory meal tonight instead of tomorrow. May God bless you and keep you safe. You do our humble establishment great honor by choosing to be with us this special evening.”
Although the Picts had difficulty communicating with the locals, even with Fergus trying to translate as much as possible, they soon became aware of the warm welcome afforded them particularly by the Scotti as well as the local monks. As the night wore on, the Picts began singing and some even dancing. This was the first time since their terrible ordeal began that they felt the air of freedom and comradeship.
By the time Compline was called (night prayers, which completes the day), the feasting, singing and dancing was completed, and the weary travelers slowly made their way back to the guest house.
As a special treat for his guests, Abbot Morann decreed that the call for Vigils prayers (during the wee hours, around 4 am while still dark) be postponed for the next morning and the sleepy travelers were woken only for Lauds at day break
* * * * *
Day two found the two boats rowing into a strong westerly wind accompanied by a rising swell. It was with relief when they could at last round the Point of Ardnamurchan and head north east. By midday they had passed the islands of Muck and Eigg and Rum was visible on the horizon. Ahead however rose the forbidding black mountains of Skye, the Cuillins (pronounced ‘Coolins’).
The majority of Picts in the second boat were jubilant. The Isle of Skye was their home. The others were noticeably somber. Their home lay further north on the mainland. The Albannach of Skye were feared by the inhabitants on the mainland.
They entered the Sound of Sleat and the coastline narrowed on either side. The wind dropped but the current became much stronger and it was difficult making headway. To make matters worse the cloud cover came down and it started to rain.
Brother Bryan decided to put into a small inlet on Skye which had a burn (creek or stream) running into the sea. As they approached the shore they noticed some farm houses through the rain squalls. The shoreline was protected by a large sandbank and they had to climb out and manhandle the curachs over the obstruction before gaining the shore.
As they pulled the boats onto the shore Culann noticed a small group of men carrying hoes and sticks gathered above them. He pointed them out to Bryan who suggested he, Culann, Fergus and two of the Picts from Skye go and meet them. They seemed to be farmers, not warriors. As they approached the farmers, Bryan held his hands up in a universal gesture of peace. Fergus asked the Picts to tell them they came in peace and were just looking for shelter for the night. The Picts who came originally from the far side of the island, convinced the farmers they meant no harm. The farmers, who incidentally, did not recognize their clerical robes, thought they were some sort of Druids and were a little in awe. They pointed to one of their wooden farm buildings, indicating they could stay the night there. It was a barn for their cows. Bryan waved the other travelers forward and everyone traipsed off to spend at least a dry night in the barn. The cows however were not happy.
* * * * *
Next morning the travellers ate some of the provisions they had brought with them and made their way back to the boats. Two of the farmers were standing next to the upturned boats. They must have been guarding them all night. Brother Bryan said a prayer over them as everyone else prepared to disembark on the boats. The farmers seemed impressed by the short religious service, even though they had no idea what it meant.
The tide was in and they did not need to carry the boats over the now submerged sandbank before gaining access to the very narrow passage. As they rowed through the straight and turned north to follow the coastline the Skye Picts became more excited as they recognised more familiar landmarks
By midday despite the numerous rain squalls, they had passed between two smaller islands and on advice from the Picts in the second boat, turned into another larger bay. There was a sizable village at the far end, but no one was in sight. Brother Bryan in the lead boat hove to beside the larger boat and through Fergus conferred with the local Picts.
“Is this your village?” asked Bryan.
“Yes,” came the translated reply.
“Where is everyone?” said Culann looking at the still deserted village.
“They must be hiding. They are afraid of strange craft after the raid by the Dál Riata,” translated Fergus.
“What do you call this place?” asked Bryan.
After conferring amongst themselves the Picts replied “Home.” [1] Trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile Bryan replied “That’s as good a name as any I suppose.”
[1] Now known as Portree. The current name, Port Rìgh translates as 'king's port', possibly from a visit by King James V of Scotland in 1540. However this etymology has been contested, since James did not arrive in peaceful times. The older name appears to have been Port Ruighe(adh), 'slope harbour'. Prior to the sixteenth century the settlement's name was Kiltaraglen (‘the church of St. Talarican’) from Gaelic Cill Targhlain.{Wikipedia}
“What about the large curach?” queried Culann “We won’t have enough people now to row both boats.” With twelve men staying here on Skye, that left only eight mainland Picts, four men and four women.
“Well I think we should give it to the local Picts. We only need one boat now.” said Bryan. This message was conveyed to the twelve Picts who were now on shore. They waded waist-deep back out to the leading curach on which Culann and Fergus had now transferred. The local Picts, some with tears streaming down their faces reached up and clasped hands in gratitude with not only the monks from Iona, but Fergus and the remaining Picts, women and men.
With the large curach beached on shore and it’s new owners still in the water waving farewell, Bryan’s boat pulled away out of the bay and headed toward the northern most point of the isle of Raasay and then onward past the much smaller isle of Rona.
As they rounded the northernmost point of Rona they could see on the eastern horizon the low line of hills that marked the mainland. They made toward the mouth of what they observed as they came closer, a large loch. (In fact Loch Torridon)
The inhospitable rocks lining the northern mouth of the loch suddenly glowed a dull red as the sun momentarily appeared from behind the cloud cover. Two male Picts both shouted as they recognized the landmark. Fergus explained they stated this was called Red Point. Their village lay just to the north in the next loch. He said they called it ‘Loch Gair’ (now known as Gairloch, unsurprisingly).
The seamen duly changed course and followed the coastline until they entered a smaller loch. Again no people could be seen. There was no sign of life on the meadows between the shore and the tree line. On direction from the Picts who were now excitedly shouting and pointing to the far end of the loch, the curach made its way to a deserted sandy beach. The Picts leapt from the boat before it had been beached and ran yelling and waving their arms toward the nearest buildings. However on closer inspection they were revealed to be the remains of burnt out wooden structures. By the time the monks and the sailors had secured the boat, the local Picts had spread out scouring the area, looking for their kin. From time to time a great wail went up. The now decomposing body of one of their relatives was discovered, lying crumpled in the long grass or on one of the many rocky outcrops dotting the small plain.
Fergus came back to the monks standing mute on the beach with the sailors, staring at the result of the savage assault on this small Pictish community. “The Dál Riata o
f Dunadd attacked this village early in the morning, just as most of the men were preparing their boats for a day’s fishing. Those they didn’t kill they carried off as slaves.”
Two of the Pictish women came up to Fergus, crying and urgently pointing inland. Fergus translated “These women say they come from another village half a day’s walk from here. They were visiting here when they were captured along with the others. They want to go back to their own village.”
Brother Bryan looked at the darkening sky. “It’s too late now to go anywhere. We will make camp here and tomorrow look to guiding these ladies back to their home. I will ask our sailors to help me bury these poor souls who have been killed.” Looking at Culann he continued, “Perhaps Brother Culann and Fergus can escort these ladies back to their home.” Culann nodded in agreement.
After building a warming fire and eating what was left of their provisions, everyone took shelter under the upturned curach after they removed the wooden mast. The good news was it stopped raining. The bad news; it started snowing. Culann sat protected by his cloak and kept watch.
* * * * *
Burying the dead at Gairloch
A light layer of snow covered the ground when everyone woke at first light. The wind had dropped and the snowing had stopped. It was eerily quiet, no birdsong, nothing broke the silence. The embers of the fire was stoked into life and most stood around warming their hands and rubbing limbs to get warm.
Brother Bryan conferred with Culann. “Our food has all gone Brother Culann. I fear we shall all go hungry today. If those ladies are correct and their village is only half a day from here you and Fergus could take them there and return by the latest tomorrow. In the meantime I will arrange the burial of these poor souls. There should be some food stored somewhere in the village. I will find it so you shall have something to eat on your return. We then must make plans to return to Iona. Take care my friend and return soon.”
The Culann Chronicles, Book 2, Picts' Plight Page 5