The Gathering Night, by Margaret Elphinstone. Book review

Canongate, 2009. ISBN 978-1-84767-288-9. 368 pages.

The Gathering Night is set in Mesolithic Scotland around 6150 BC, when an underwater landslide off the coast of Norway (the Storegga Slide) caused a tsunami that devastated the east and north-east coast of Scotland. All the characters are fictional.

The Auk people live on the coasts and islands of what is now the western Highlands of Scotland, grouped into individual families who come together once a year at the Gathering in late summer. One autumn, Bakar, a young hunter, disappears without trace from his family’s winter camp. At around the same time, four young men of the Lynx people arrive on the west coast, having crossed all the way from the east coast where their lands have been destroyed by a catastrophic tsunami. Three of the Lynx men stay among the Heron people, south of Auk lands, and one, Kemen, comes on alone to the Auk people. At the Gathering, Kemen is accepted into the Auk people, marries an Auk girl who has just survived a murderous attack by an unknown assailant, and is accepted into the family of the missing Bakar. These events cause some resentment among other Auk families, notably the family of the assaulted girl and the Auk hunter who hoped to marry her himself. When Kemen’s brother Basajaun also turns up in Auk lands, having left the lands of the Heron people, conflict flares. Have these Lynx refugees brought ill fortune to the Auk people? And what are the Auk people going to do about it?

The Gathering Night is an unusual novel. It doesn’t really have a plot as such, although the mystery around Bakar’s disappearance and its eventual resolution provides a loose structure. The narrative is structured as a group of people taking it in turns to speak around a campfire, telling of events that happened several years previously. There is not really a central character, either. This is an egalitarian society in which people think of themselves primarily as part of a group or groups – a family, the Auk people – and only secondarily as individuals. The only one who seems to have something resembling a modern sense of self is Kemen’s brother Basajaun, and when he says to Kemen after the destruction of their lands and tribe, “A man is his own self”, Kemen is fearful and disturbed by this strange attitude. So characterisation in the conventional sense is limited, and the voices of the various narrators all sound very similar. I could sometimes tell who was speaking if I forgot to look at the tag line because of the different roles they play – shaman, hunter, child, young woman, wife, mother – but rarely from the style of speaking, because their society does not work that way.

What makes The Gathering Night stand out is its wonderful portrayal of daily life as it might have been for the Mesolithic people of western Scotland about 8,000 years ago. This period of pre-history, before the coming of agriculture, is so far removed from the modern world that it’s difficult to even begin to imagine what it might have been like to live at that time. Almost nothing is known, as there are no written records and very few physical remains. Archaeology has identified the sites of some camping places, food debris such as shell middens and nutshells provide some information about the diet, and stone tools say something about the technology available. But the cultural, social, artistic and spiritual life of the people who used the tools and ate the food is completely unknown. The author has imagined how it might have been by drawing on the traditions of more recent nomadic and hunter-gatherer societies such as the Sami, Inuit and Native Americans. Language is also completely unknown, so the author chose Basque names for the characters, as Basque is thought to be the only pre-agricultural language surviving in western Europe.

From these sources, together with the author’s own forays into hunter-gatherer skills (such as building a coracle), The Gathering Night creates a Mesolithic society complete with details of the hunting and gathering skills that might have been used, the wide range of foods utilised at different seasons, the reckoning of time and location, travel among the islands and lochs of the west coast, social organisation, conventions and values, spiritual beliefs, rituals, art and storytelling. We cannot possibly know what Mesolithic Scotland was really like (short of time travel), but The Gathering Night imagines it as a richly complex culture and brings it to vivid life on the page.

The Author’s Afterword outlines some of the sources underlying the novel, and hints at some of the places involved. There is no map because, as she says, “my characters imagined their land in other ways.” However, the landscape descriptions are so detailed and appealing that I couldn’t help trying to figure out how they might fit into the modern geography, and after an enjoyable hour or two with maps of Ardnamurchan, the Isle of Mull, Ardgour and Argyll, I reckon I can make a stab at identifying ‘Mother Mountain Island’ and ‘Gathering Loch’ at least, and maybe some of the other locations.

Beautiful portrayal of Mesolithic Scotland as it might have been about 8,000 years ago.

The Lion Rampant, by Robert Low. Book review

Harper Collins 2013. ISBN 978-0-00-733790-3. 454 pages

Set in southern Scotland and Spain in 1314, The Lion Rampant is the third in Robert Low’s trilogy about the Wars of Independence, and covers the build-up to the Battle of Bannockburn and the battle itself. The main characters, Sir Hal Sientcler of Herdmanston and his household, are fictional. ‘Black Roger’ Kirkpatrick, loyal henchman of Robert Bruce, is also fictional, although the fictional character is now starting to step into the role of the historical Roger Kirkpatrick.  Isabel MacDuff of Fife, formerly the Countess of Buchan, is based on a historical figure, although many details of her life and her eventual fate are not known. Other historical figures appear as important secondary characters, including Robert Bruce and his brother Edward, various Scots lords including Sir James Douglas (‘The Black Douglas’, or ‘The Good Sir James’, depending whether he was on your side), Edward II of England and various other English lords. 

In early spring 1314, Hal of Herdmanston has been held prisoner by the English garrison of Roxburgh Castle for seven years since his capture at the end of the previous novel, The Lion At Bay. His beloved Isabel MacDuff has been imprisoned for much the same time, in even harsher conditions (in a cage hung from the walls of Berwick Castle). During Hal’s imprisonment, Robert Bruce has been steadily fighting a guerilla war against his Scottish enemies and rivals, chiefly the Comyn family, and the English garrisons in Scotland. Now, after seven hard years, the Comyns are defeated and exiled, and the English presence in Scotland is largely confined to the garrisons of three great fortresses, Roxburgh, Edinburgh and Stirling. When Roxburgh falls to a daring assault led by James Douglas, Hal of Herdmanston is freed. Returning to Robert Bruce to seek help in rescuing Isabel, he finds Bruce facing the prospect of a large-scale invasion of Scotland. Edward II of England is determined to crush Robert Bruce and independent Scotland once and for all. Unless Robert Bruce can source enough weapons to arm his soldiers by midsummer, he will have no chance against the English army – and there are only a few months left. And so Hal and ‘Black Roger’ Kirkpatrick are despatched on a desperate mission to a Templar stronghold in Spain. Secrecy and speed are of the essence, for the fate of Scotland hangs on their success – but already there is the stink of treachery in the air...

The Lion Rampant concludes Robert Low’s trilogy about the Wars of Independence, which began with The Lion Wakes (reviewed here earlier) and continued with The Lion At Bay (reviewed here earlier). As well as bringing the war to its climax at Bannockburn, it also resolves the stories of the main characters, including Hal of Herdmanston, Isabel MacDuff and Dog Boy.

Like its predecessors, The Lion Rampant is a gripping adventure novel with plenty of violent action. The fight scenes are gory, brutal and gruesomely convincing. Fittingly for a book published shortly before the 700th anniversary, the Battle of Bannockburn dominates the novel. All the famous set-piece scenes are there, from Robert Bruce’s duel with de Bohun to the decisive charge of the camp-followers.  The author has neatly contrived to place one of his main characters in each of the key components of the battle, so it is told from all sides, and stirring stuff it is. If you have ever tried to imagine what it might have been like to stand in a schiltrom of spearmen facing a charge of armoured knights; or to be one of those knights charging a forest of steel pikes; or a Welsh mercenary archer in Edward’s army, neither fully trusting in nor trusted by the English leaders; or a sensible veteran like the down-to-earth Yorkshire knight Marmaduke Thweng, watching with gloomy resignation as the squabbling nobles in high command precipitate disaster – this novel is for you.

The Templar sub-plot and the mystery of the traitor add an exotic diversion (best taken, as the author says about all things to do with the Templars in Scotland, “with a huge saline pinch”), and gives Hal and Roger something exciting to do while the rival armies are converging on Bannockburn. There is more of a nationalistic atmosphere to this novel than the previous two, partly because the Scottish civil war has largely been won by the Bruce faction (and partly, perhaps, reflecting the iconic status of Bannockburn in modern popular culture). However, the sense of the dense political background is retained. There are Scots lords from the defeated Comyn faction fighting with Edward II, the ‘English’ army contains considerable numbers of archers from Wales and mercenary soldiers from Hainault, and the simmering unrest among the English nobles – not all of which is due solely to inflated egos – is an ever-present menace.  Edward II is seen through the clear eyes of Marmaduke Thweng, who has sympathy for him and admires his courage, but who also has no illusions about Edward’s effectiveness either as king or war leader.

Characterisation is vivid and complex, with even minor characters swiftly sketched in as distinct individuals with their own fears and ambitions. Relationships can be equally complex and contradictory. Hal does not trust ‘Black Roger’ Kirkpatrick (with good reason), yet the two are bound together by obligation and revenge, in “a tangle of sin and redemption that even God would have trouble unravelling”. Dog Boy has discovered his identity, Aleysandir of Douglas, and is now a warrior in his prime, "as daring as the Black Sir James, but better looking", as he says to more than one vanquished enemy. Yet the cruelty and the waste of war are taking a toll on him, and he wants nothing more than to settle to family life with Bet’s Meggy and be done with killing and destruction. Their love is a bright thread of joy running through the darkness of war, a counterpart to the bittersweet love affair between Hal and Isabel MacDuff.

An Author’s Note and a detailed character list at the back of the book outlines the underlying history, identifies the purely fictional characters, and acknowledges some of the liberties taken with historical figures.  For example, Isabel MacDuff’s fate is unknown, but the limited information suggests that it probably was not as depicted in the novel.  A sketch map at the front gives approximate locations for some of the places mentioned. I would have liked a more detailed plan of the battlefield at Bannockburn itself as imagined in the novel.  There is no glossary of Scots words and phrases, perhaps because the Scots dialect seems less pronounced in this novel than in the first one.

Gripping, violent action-adventure bringing this trilogy of the Wars of Independence to a rousing conclusion with the Battle of Bannockburn.

Location of Rheged: the poetry

Rheged (also spelled Reged, Reget) was a kingdom in early medieval Britain.  Its most famous king, Urien, was active some time in the late sixth century.  He is recorded in Historia Brittonum and royal genealogies, and was lauded in the poetry attributed to Taliesin.  However, the name of the kingdom itself is known only from poetry; Historia Brittonum describes a military campaign by Urien against the kingdom of Bryneich (Bernicia) on the coast of what is now north-east England, but does not name or locate Urien’s kingdom.

In an earlier post, I discussed the location of other known kingdoms and the (limited) place name evidence, and came to the conclusion that Rheged was located somewhere in a large region on the west coast of Britain stretching roughly from Strathclyde to Lancashire.  Can the poetry narrow down the location any further?

Taliesin poetry

The Battle of Argoed Llwyfain

In the morning of Saturday there was a great battle,
From when the sun rose until it gained its height.
Flamdwyn hastened in four hosts
Godeu and Reged to overwhelm.
They extended from Argoed to Arvynyd.

--Book of Taliesin, The Affair of Argoed Llwyfain, available online

‘Argoed Llywfain’ translates approximately as ‘Near the elm wood’, which is not very helpful for specifying a location; there were a lot of elm woods in sixth-century Britain. The element ‘llwyf’, ‘elm’, is found in several modern place names spread over a wide area, including Ashton-under-Lyne (east of Manchester), Lympne (Kent), Leamington Spa (Warwickshire) and Lymington (Hampshire) (Room 1993).  ‘Elm’ names may not be quite as ubiquitous as ‘derwent’ (‘oak’) names, but they seem sufficiently widespread to be little help in identifying a specific location.

‘Arvynyd’ looks to me like a compound of ‘Ar’ (near, adjacent) and ‘Mynydd’ (mountain), in which case it would translate approximately as ‘Near the mountain’, also too general to be helpful (caveat that I am not a linguist and it may mean something quite different).  If it does mean ‘near the mountain’, the phrase may not refer to actual place names at all but may mean that the army being described was flanked on one side by woodland and on the other by high ground (quite a sensible position to take up before a battle).  Or it may be a poetic construct in the same vein as phrases like ‘from the mountains to the sea’, perhaps to indicate that the army was so large that it filled the whole plain, or something similar.

‘Godeu’ is bracketed with Rheged and was presumably another region or kingdom.  It could be an ally fighting alongside Rheged forces in the battle being described, or another target for Flamdwyn’s attacking army.  Tim Clarkson says that ‘Goddeu’ or ‘Godeu’ means ‘the trees’ or ‘the forest’ (Clarkson 2010 p. 35).  He suggests on linguistic grounds that it could have become Cadyow or Cadzow.  This was the previous name of the modern town of Hamilton on the River Clyde south of Glasgow (Clarkson 2010 p. 36-7), and survives in the name of nearby Cadzow Castle.  If correct, this may indicate that the Battle of Argoed Llwyfain was fought somewhere near this area; or that a kingdom in this area was allied with Rheged at the time; or that Flamdwyn was a threat to this area.  If it is a general topographical place name indicating a wooded area (caveat that I do not know how secure the translation is), it seems to me that there may also have been other places with the same name.

The Battle of Gwen Ystrad

The men of Catraeth arose with the dawn,

About the Guledig, of work a profitable merchant
This Urien

[…]

At Gwenystrad, continuously offerers of battle.

[…]

Hand on the cross they wail on the gravel bank of Garanwynyon.

[…]

I saw a brow covered with rage on Urien,
When he furiously attacked his foes at the white stone
Of Galystem. His rage was a blade;

--Book of Taliesin, The Battle of Gwen Ystrad, available online

‘Gwen Ystrad’ translates approximately as ‘white valley’. ‘Ystrad’ is cognate with the Scottish place name element ‘Strath’ and indicates a large, broad valley, rather than a narrow mountain glen.  The phrase immediately conjures up an image of the wide limestone dales of Yorkshire with their white or grey rock outcrops, but many other places could be equally well be described as a ‘white valley’.  ‘Garanwynyon’ is presumably a river name or a description of a river (and the river presumably had gravel banks), but if it has ever been identified I don’t know of it.  Similarly, if the ‘white stone of Galystem’ has ever been located I don’t know of it.

‘Catraeth’ is traditionally identified with Catterick in Yorkshire.  The identification is uncertain (I may come back to this question in another post).  If correct, it would be compatible with a location for Gwen Ystrad somewhere in the Yorkshire Dales, as Catterick is at the mouth of Swaledale and on an important Roman road.  However, it is worth noting that the poem refers to ‘the men of Catraeth’ fighting with Urien; it does not say that the battle of Gwen Ystrad was fought at Catraeth. In any case, early medieval armies were quite capable of fighting battles considerable distances from their home territories, so Catraeth (wherever it was) may not have been in Rheged at all.

A Song for Urien Rheged

To me has been extended.
The lofty Llwyvenydd,

--Book of Taliesin, A Song for Urien Rheged, available online

The Satisfaction of Urien

Urien will not refuse me
The lands of Llwyvenydd.

--Book of Taliesin, The Satisfaction of Urien, available online

The Spoils of Taliesin, a Song to Urien

Like a wave that governs Llwyvenydd.

--Book of Taliesin, The Spoils of Taliesin, a Song to Urien, available online

These poems imply that Llwyvenydd is an estate or territory controlled by Urien, where Taliesin is made welcome.  Llwyvenydd contains the same Brittonic place-name element ‘llwyf’ (elm) as Argoed Llwyfain.

The River Lyvennet near Penrith has a name that looks as though it might be a modernised form of ‘Llwyvenydd’.  Tim Clarkson is of the opinion that the resemblance is no more than superficial (Clarkson 2010, p.73). I am not a linguist, so I have to take his word for that.  He does not suggest an alternative derivation for Lyvennet, so presumably it could be derived from ‘llwyf’. As discussed above, ‘elm’ place names are widespread, so the name element is too general to be much help with identification. However, although ‘elm’ place names are widespread, the name ‘Lyvennet’ itself is unusual; it is much closer to ‘Llwyvenydd’ than the ‘Lyne’ or ‘Lym’ forms of other ‘elm’ place names.  This is far from conclusive, but it is at least a straw to clutch. 

The Death-Song of Owain

The soul of Owain, son of Urien […]

There will not be found a match for the chief of the glittering west

--Book of Taliesin, The Death Song of Owain, available online

The lovely phrase ‘the glittering west’ immediately calls to mind the Lake District, or the coastlands of Cumbria and/or Galloway.  This is pure speculation on my part, and I do not know how reliable the translation is.

Other Taliesin poems

Other poems attributed to Taliesin give a list of battles and a description of what appears to be a sizeable cattle raid.  Not all of the places mentioned can be identified.  However, of those that are identifiable, all except Powys (in what is now mid-Wales) are in what is now northern England or southern Scotland, suggesting that this area was the focus of Urien’s activity. See earlier post ‘The battles of Urien Rheged’ for more details.

Interpretation

It seems clear that Rheged was located somewhere in the region bounded approximately by Strathclyde on the north, the Pennine chain on the east, Lancashire or possibly the Mersey area (depending where one places the kingdom of Craven) on the south, and the Irish Sea coast on the west.  This region was not the core territory of known early medieval kingdoms, but centres of high-status early medieval occupation have been identified by archaeology at Birdoswald and Trusty’s Hill. It seems a likely setting for the various un-located kings and kingdoms named in poetry and genealogies, including Rheged.

Urien’s military career was associated mainly with northern England and southern Scotland, as far as can be judged from the place names that are identifiable. His son Owain and (probable) great-grand-daughter Rhianmellt were also associated with the north of England and/or southern Scotland.  Given that early medieval armies could campaign over considerable distances (see earlier post on campaigning ranges), this is consistent with the broad geographical region described above, but does not necessarily narrow it down much.

Unfortunately, the names in the Taliesin poetry are also too general to definitively locate Rheged.  ‘Llwyvenydd’ and ‘the glittering west’ are clearly identified as places where Urien and Owain lived and ruled, as distinct from somewhere they fought battles, which makes them the most interesting for identifying Rheged’s core territory.  ‘The glittering west’ could apply to anywhere on the west coast if it refers to the gleaming sea (assuming the translation is accurate).  ‘Llwyvenydd’ contains the place-name element ‘llwyf’, ‘elm’, which occurs widely in place names. The resemblance of ‘Llwyvenydd’ to the modern name of the River Lyvennet near Penrith may be significant, or may be chance.  Even if Lyvennet is derived from ‘Llwyvenydd’, there may have been other places called ‘Llwyvenydd’ in the sixth century whose names have now been lost.

One of the poems describing Urien’s battle exploits says that he ‘came in the day to Aeron' and could imply that he was not an aggressor there (see earlier post on the battles of Urien Rheged). Aeron may be a reference to the region around modern Ayr. The mention of Godeu in ‘The Battle of Argoed Llwyfain’ may refer to the area around modern Hamilton. These may indicate that Rheged had some association with these areas, which may suggest a location in what is now south-west Scotland, perhaps on the southern border of Strathclyde.  Such a location would be consistent with battles fought at Dumbarton Rock, Bremenium (High Rochester), Stirling and Lindisfarne. As the poem says that Urien ‘came in the day’ to Aeron, it may be an indication that Aeron was somewhere that he travelled to, rather than his home territory, and the mention of ‘Godeu and Rheged’ side by side suggests that they were considered separate areas.  If so, this may indicate that Godeu and Aeron were regions in their own right, not considered part of Rheged, and that Urien’s home territory of Rheged lay elsewhere. It is unlikely to have been to the west, since Ayr is on the west coast, or to the north, since it seems unlikely that there was enough space for a substantial kingdom between Ayr and the territory of Strathclyde.  It could have been to the east, in the upland area around Selkirk and Galashiels, or to the south nearer to the Solway Firth. Both these locations would be reasonably consistent with the identifiable locations of Urien’s battles.  Selkirk is perhaps a better fit with the battles than Solway (although it is worth bearing in mind that there are other battles that have not been identified). Furthermore, someone raised a memorial stone with a Latin inscription in the Yarrow Valley near Selkirk some time in the sixth century. Unfortunately, the names on the stone bear no resemblance to the names in the Rheged genealogies (otherwise the mystery of Rheged’s location would be conclusively solved!), but it indicates that someone important was associated with the region at about the right time. Conversely, Solway is a better fit with the phrase ‘lord of the glittering west’, and the River Lyvennet is an obvious candidate for the Llwyvenydd place name.

So, although there are a few more clues in the poetry, they still do not give a conclusive answer. Rheged could have been anywhere on the western side of Britain from Strathclyde to Lancashire.  Its position within this region, its size, its boundaries, and any changes over time, are all open to interpretation. The two strongest candidates are perhaps the area around Selkirk (which fits well with the locations of Urien’s battles), and the area around the Solway Firth, which fits with Llwyvenydd if this later became the River Lyvennet, and with the ‘glittering west’. But a case could be made for almost anywhere, as Tim Clarkson says (Clarkson 2010 p.74-5).

Personally, I like the idea that Rheged was located around the head of the Solway Firth, including at least the northern part of the Lake District, the Eden valley, and part of the north shore of the Solway. This forms a reasonably coherent region with Carlisle at its hub, potentially controlling access to the coast on both sides of the Solway, the Eden valley radiating to the south, Annandale and Nithsdale radiating to the north, and the Roman roads across the Pennines along Hadrian’s Wall or to Catterick.  Water transport could also have connected both shores of the estuary. 

The high ground of the Pennine spine forms a natural barrier to the east.  The high ground of the Southern Uplands forms a similar natural barrier to the north. The ridge west of Nithsdale or the ridge of Cairnsmore of Fleet could form another natural barrier part way along the north shore of the Solway.  To the south, the high ground of the central Lake District and Mallerstang at the head of the Eden valley could form another natural barrier. It may (or may not!) be significant that the historic county boundary between Lancashire and Cumberland ran through the middle of the Lake District, across the high ground of the central fells. 

The many lakes and tarns of the Lake District and the gleaming sea and sands of the Solway could happily be described as ‘the glittering west’.  The Lyvennet valley, a tributary of the Eden, is in this area and close to the Roman road over the Pennines to Catterick. Birdoswald is in the middle of this area.  Trusty’s Hill might be within it, depending on the location chosen for the hypothetical western boundary.

The early medieval period was a time of flux, and kingdoms may not have stayed stable for long.  Bernicia and Deira certainly combined, separated and recombined more than once before they eventually merged into a more or less united Northumbria, and kings fought and conquered each other regularly.  Other kingdoms may have done the same.  This suggested area for Rheged may have been divided into smaller units at times, or may have extended further at other times, especially under particularly successful kings.

As ever, other interpretations are possible.

Map links

Birdoswald 

Cadzow(Hamilton)

Catterick

River Lyvennet 

Selkirk

Trusty’sHill 

References

Book of Taliesin, available online

Room A. Dictionary of Place Names. Bloomsbury, 1993. ISBN 0-7475-1511-5.

Clarkson T. The Men of the North. Birlinn, 2010. ISBN 978-1-906566-18-0.