As the festivities wore on into the night, Bryan noticed Culann was quiet and withdrawn. “Brother Culann, you seem sad. Why are you not enjoying the feasting and singing?”
Culann looked up and brushing hair away from his eyes said “I have been thinking how these people could improve their lives if they could have access to metalwork. They could make an iron plowshare to till the soil more easily for crops. They could make containers to cook in. Also they could make better weapons and protect themselves against marauders. Wooden clubs and spears won’t stand up to iron swords and spears. I was thinking if those Dunadd raiders have come to Loch Ewe instead of Gairloch, most of these people would not be alive.”
“What do you suggest?” asked Bryan.
“I think I can show them how to work with metal. Nothing special, just basic stuff.”
“Like what?” queried Bryan.
“Well, I could show them how to make a forge so they can melt metal. The problem is they don’t have any metal to work with.”
“I have metal.” said Bryan with a big smile.
“You? Where?” said Culann wide-eyed.
“In our boat. I collected many metal objects while we were burying the dead in Gairloch. You can have them, but where will you get more?” said Bryan.
Culann grabbed Bryan’s arm and stood up quickly, a secretive smile spread across his face. “Show me your metal Brother Bryan. I can use it to show this clan the rudiments of metalworking. I suspect they are smart enough to figure out where to get other metal objects.”
“Where?” asked Bryan as he was almost pulled out through the low doorway and into the cold night air. It was snowing slightly.
“Their fellow Picts from Skye” smiled Culann. “I suspect they have lots of metal swords and spears.”
“You’re not suggesting they go raiding. We are supposed to spread the word of the Lord; peace and harmony and goodwill to all men.” cried Bryan as they hurried through the night toward where the curach was moored.
“No, I’m not suggesting they go raiding. Fergus told me the Picts from Skye come here three or four times a year and take a heavy tribute in foodstuff. Food the clan can ill afford. If they are prepared with better weapons, they could stop loosing food and acquire metal swords and spears at the same time.”
“I’m glad Abbot Cumméne cannot hear this conversation. He most certainly would not approve. It is not the way a monk of the Celtic church should think.” said a worried Bryan. “But on the other hand, I’m glad you’re on our side, Brother Culann.”
Culann just smiled as they clambered onto the boat, and Bryan indicated where the metal objects were stored.
* * * * *
Back at the dwelling where the celebratory meal was continuing, Alpin came over and sat next to Fergus. “My young friend,” began Alpin “I have not had a chance to talk to you and thank you properly for bringing our children back home. I know you are not from Eilean a' Cheò, where does your clan hail from?”
Fergus wiped some of the fat dripping from his mouth with the back of his hand and smilingly answered “I am Fergus mac Ciniod of the Fortriu.”
“Ah, forgive my ignorance Fergus, but where is Fortriu?”
Fergus thought for a moment and replied “It is on the far side of the country sir, by the sea. I left there when I was only twelve summers old. My mother insisted I go to a monastery to learn to read and write, far to the south in Anglo territory. It is called Lindisfarne and run by monks from Iona, the same ones who rescued your kin.”
“You have travelled far young Fergus. I am ashamed to say I have only been to a few valleys on either side of our home here. Oh, and I have been to Eilean a' Cheò twice, but that is all.”
“I have been fortunate sir.” said Fergus modestly (which was unusual for Fergus). I was lucky to sail much further down the coast where the sun rises, to another monastery called Whitby. There was a great meeting held there between the Church of the Celts and the Church of Rome. I don’t know where Rome is except it is a great distance away from everywhere. It was there I was rescued by Brother Culann. He brought me back to Lindisfarne and then we went back to the Island of Iona. The Celts regard that island very dearly. They consider it their most holy place.”
“Hmmm,” mused Alpin, “and Brother Culann, you have much respect for him.”
“Oh yes. He is the greatest swordsman I have ever seen.”
“But he is a monk, like a Druid, isn’t he? I didn’t know they carried weapons. I thought they just made magic spells.”
“Ah, but Brother Culann was a Fianna warrior in the country they call Eire (Ireland) before he became a monk. The leaders of the Celtic church think very highly of him and allow him to carry weapons.”
“Well speak no evil, do you see who just walked through the door.” said Alpin pointing at Brothers Bryan and Culann as they stepped into the hut, brushing a layer of light snow from their cloaks. “Please ask them to join us young Fergus.”
Noticing Fergus gesturing across the way, Bryan and Culann made their way through the crowded smoke filled cottage. With Fergus translating, Alpin began the conversation as the still shivering monks resumed their seats on the wooden trestle.
“Brother Culann I understand from your friend Fergus mac Ciniod, that you are highly skilled with the sword.” Culann looked quickly at Bryan who retained a blank expression and said nothing. “If is not too much trouble,” continued Alpin “would you consider passing on some of your knowledge to our young men.”
Culann looked uncomfortable. “I am honoured good sir that you have that opinion of me. However as Monk of Iona, it would be considered improper of me to encourage the skills used in warfare and killing.” At this revelation Bryan’s stony face dissolved into a wide smile.
“However,” continued Culann more enthusiastically “I believe a more appropriate way I can help, is not to encourage skills in fighting, but show you how to improve your clan’s skill in metalworking.” Alpin frowned. “The problem I believe is not having the skills in fighting, but the skills to work with metal.” Alpin’s frown deepened “How would that help?”
“Well, I notice you only have three swords. Instead of teaching skills to only three men, why not show all your males how to make a ‘Smithy’. That way you could make ploughs to till the land, pots and pans for cooking, oarlocks for your boats, and, . . . .” a long pause, “spear heads, knives and swords.”
Alpin jumped up and bear hugged Culann. “My man, that makes very good sense. Just what we need, ploughs, pots, oarlocks – and swords. How come you know about these things?”
Embarrassed Culann disentangled himself from the Pict’s embrace “My father was a Metal Smith. Plus there are some very good Smiths on Iona. I only know a little but it may help.”
The rest of the evening was taken up in discussion between Alpin, Fergus, Bryan and Culann, deciding how the new skill of metal working could be implemented. Initially Bryan was concerned that they should return to Iona, now that their original task was accomplished by delivering the Dunadd captives to their homes.
Alpin argued however that the weather had deteriorated and would only get worse, this being the first month after the winter solstice. (The time at which the Sun appears at noon at its lowest altitude above the horizon. In the Northern Hemisphere this is the Southern Solstice, the time at which the Sun is at its southernmost point in the sky, which usually occurs on December 21 to 22 each year)
This brings the worst weather. It is very dangerous to go anywhere by boat. Sudden violent storms would occur and any boat caught at sea could be swamped or driven onto a rocky shore. The six Iona sailors sitting nearby endorsed this view. They also wished to return home but were fearful of venturing out at this time of year, particularly as they were not familiar with the area so far north.
So it was decided that the Iona monks and the sailors would remain at Poolewe village until the next full moon before sailing south to Iona.
* * * * *
&n
bsp; The villagers moved back into their round thatch roofed houses for the time being as they considered it to be safe from any raiding party, protected by the beastly weather. Most days it rained. The wind blew in heavy gusts with occasionally gale force from the south west. Snow and frost only occurred on the higher mountains and in the upper reaches of Loch Maree. The sailors were happy to stay indoors and sleep.
Brother Bryan, never one to remain inactive, organised daily prayer sessions and began instructing those interested the basic teachings of the Celtic church. Chieftain Alpin stopped in occasionally along with the odd male but the audience comprised mainly women and girls.
The weather was considered too severe for the coracles to be launched for fishing.
Culann led a small group of males including Alpin in learning the basics of metalworking. Initially Culann was puzzled as to how the clan cut the timber for their dwellings and the timber frames of the coracles as they had so few metal axes. Alpin and Gart explained they used very finely made stone axes to cut and dress timber. Their woodworking skills were quite high.
Culann shows the Poolewe Picts how to make a smith.
The word smith derives from an old Teutonic word; smeithan, ‘to forge’.
That made Culann’s task of making a rudimentary smith much easier. First of all he showed how to construct a bellows to superheat the metal. He drew the outline of the three pieces of flat wood shaped like a raindrop needed to construct the bellows, using a piece of charcoal. The clan quickly produced the slats together with the wooden frame. Next he indicated how to attach dried cows hide to the slats so air may be trapped then expelled. The Picts had no metal nails so used the same method of attaching the skins to the wooden frames of their curachs, sewing using flax thread.
Then they gathered and shaped stones to make the hearth in which the fire would be made. Ideally they also needed a metal container to hold the molten metal. But that would have to wait.
The hearth was originally sat on a low wooden frame. Then all was needed was a fire. Fuel for the fire was charcoal. (The traditional method for making charcoal in Britain used a clamp. This is essentially a pile of wooden logs (e.g. seasoned oak) leaning against a chimney (logs are placed in a circle). The chimney consists of 4 wooden stakes held up by some rope. The logs are completely covered with soil and straw allowing no air to enter. It must be lit by introducing some burning fuel into the chimney; the logs burn very slowly (cold fire) and transform into charcoal over a period of five days' burning. If the soil covering gets torn (cracked) by the fire, additional soil is placed on the cracks. Once the burn is complete, the chimney is plugged to prevent air from entering).
The fire was started and air from the bellows was forced into the burning charcoal increasing the temperature. The piece of metal needing heating (or melting) was placed in the charcoal. When the required degree of heat was applied so that the metal object softened or liquefied, it was taken out, placed on a large stone anvil and hit repeatedly with a shaped stone hammer. When the desired shape was achieved it was then quickly immersed in a bucket of water.
Before any spear heads or swords could be made, proper tools had to be formed such as hammer heads, tongs and swages (swage: [a] a tool used in bending or shaping cold metal; [b] a stamp or die for marking or shaping metal with a hammer).
But first they had to build the hearth, the bellows and the wooden frame.
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6.1 - The Poolewe Hunting Party
The burning image Fergus had of this sudden apparition was its massive antlers, reaching almost the width of the trail, and its hot black eyes
The day after the celebratory dinner, Gart asked Fergus if he would like to join a small group of men who were going hunting. “Of course.” replied Fergus “What are we hunting?”
Gart smiled and responded “Whatever we see young Fergus. There are Wolves, Wildcats, and Mountain Hares on the hillsides. We have Otters by the loch’s shoreline, Pine Martins are available however we won’t see any of them as they only come out at night. If we get really lucky we might catch a Red Deer.”
“Where will you go?” queried Fergus, excited now.
“Today we go inland, down Loch Maree on the north side. There are high hills near the far end of the Loch. It has many Red Deer.”
“But it’s raining.” said Fergus looking out from the lean to the hunter’s were sheltering under.
“All the better.” said Gart. “That means we are unlikely to meet the tribe at the far end of the Loch. They are trouble makers.”
“Oh,” said Fergus, “what do you call them?”
“Troublemakers.” repeated Gart sternly. “They think they own the mountain and much of the Loch.”
“Well don’t they, I mean if their village is down there.” asked Fergus.
“No one owns the land, or the lochs. They are held in safekeeping by the Gods.” said Gart seriously. “By the way, are you handy with a spear?”
“Well, let’s say I’m better with a sword.”
“Hmmm,” mused Gart “that’s a shame. To be honest, we are better fishermen than hunters. It would have been helpful if you could throw spears.”
“I am happy to learn,” suggested Fergus. “I have been told by some of the Clan where I grew up, the Alba, that I am a faster runner than most. I am quite fast running hills.”
“Well that’s interesting.” said Gart pausing to rub his beard thoughtfully. “If we find deer you may be able to circle around and herd them toward us. Yes,” suddenly enthusiastic “we sit in boats most days so we are not very fast at running. This could be a good sign.”
After further discussion on whether the rain was likely to increase or decrease, the majority decided they would head off along Loch Maree anyway. And so that was how Fergus became a member of the Poolewe hunting party.
* * * * *
Evening found Brother Bryan and Culann looking for Fergus at mealtime. It was well after dark and most people had eaten when the hunting group returned, tired, wet and bedraggled. They had seen some deer in the distance but as soon as they stepped out of the tree line the deer turned tail and easily escaped. They did catch two small birds and an otter.
However they were laughed at by the fishermen who ventured down Loch Ewe. It was too windy to launch any boats but during one of the few bright spells between rain showers, they came across a seal sunning itself on the lea side of some rocks. They killed it and the women were busy with the butchering. It was a special treat. The meat and oil would last for at least the next ten days. Except of course for the feast the previous night, the Clan had been eating mainly oat porridge and bread. The salted fish had all gone.
Brother Bryan advised his scripture meetings had been well attended, particularly by women and young girls. It would take quite a long time however to impart sufficient knowledge of the Christian religion to enable the local people to become true Christians.
Brother Culann was happy with the progress he had made building the ‘smith’. He thought another couple of days and it would be ready to trial.
Fergus, when he did arrive, mentioned briefly he was not impressed with the hunting skills of the locals. “They walk upwind of their prey and of course are smelt well before they are seen by any animals nearby. I think it just as well they are good fishermen.”
The next two days passed in a similar fashion; Bryan preaching, but to a smaller audience; Culann excited with the progress of his ‘smith’. Fergus complaining he had seen at least two red deer in the distance on the hill sides but they disappeared well before anyone was in range. Brother Bryan was concerned because their presence was putting a strain on the dwindling food supply of the local people. Despite the fact that highlanders were known for their hospitality, two monks, Fergus and six sailors were many extra mouths to feed.
Day four found Fergus with six hunting companions once again paddling two coracles down the north side of Loch Maree. The prevailing winds were
predominately from the south-west.
Fergus and the leader of the Pict hunting party, Gart, decided that they would split into two groups. Uen and three colleagues would be dropped off first. They would make their way to a large upland meadow where deer frequently grazed and wait in ambush. Fergus would be dropped off a little way down the loch. He, with the wind behind him would run to the top of the hill. Any animals on the hill would smell and hear him and hopefully flee down toward the waiting hunters. Gart’s group had two metal tipped spears which had been salvaged from the ruins of Gair Loch. Fergus had his sword and a borrowed wooden spear.
After dropping Fergus off, the sole member in the coracle waived good luck and paddled back to where the original group’s boat was moored, way in the distance. Fergus quickly made his way through the scrub on the edge of the loch heading toward the nearby hills. As the ground started rising he broke into a run and threaded his way through the thick timber. He was looking for a deer trail that would make his passage easier. After running for only a little time he came upon a clearing that hadn’t been visible from the loch. It was surrounded by thick forest. Fergus paused on the edge and quietly surveyed the scene. It was quite still. He was suddenly aware none of the leaves were moving. The wind had dropped.
Fergus stood still for some time, waiting to see what would happen next with the wind. It began with a quiet zephyr of a breeze slowly gathering strength. It was coming from the north. Bad news. This meant any animals ahead of him would smell the scent of the other hunters. Their surprise factor would be lost.
Fergus decided to head off for the top of the high hill ahead (it could hardly be called a mountain, although it was very steep in places). He cut directly across the clearing, instead of following the edges, as was his normal practice, to try and find a deer trail on the other higher side. That would save time as he might still be of benefit to the hunters.
He was only half way across when six red doe (female deer) with four small fawns (baby deer) suddenly spilled from the tree line on the far side. The small herd of deer and Fergus saw each other at the same time. Both stopped suddenly and stood absolutely still. Then the deer turned slightly and raced away downhill into the forest on the far side.
The Culann Chronicles, Book 2, Picts' Plight Page 7