We now come to a battle that is famous alike in Norse and in Irish story. It was the final effort made by the Norsemen to assert their supremacy over Ireland, and the last of several disastrous defeats which they encountered at the hands of the Irish. Both the story-tellers of the North and the historians and bards of Ireland wrote long accounts of it, so that we know the details of the battle of Clontarf perhaps better than we know those of any other ancient battle fought in the British Isles. Except the battle of Brunanburh, no other fight in these islands excited half so much attention at this period. On the Norse side forces were gathered from the Orkneys, the Isle of Man, and the Scottish coast to support the Norse of Dublin; on the other were the united forces of Munster and Connaught, supported by Danish auxiliaries, and led by the aged King of Munster, Brian Boru, or “Brian of the Tributes.” Brian had risen from being an outlawed prince of part of Munster, in the south of Ireland, to the position of High-King of the whole country. When he was a boy the foreigners had become so powerful in the south of Ireland that the Irish princes despaired of either driving them out of the country or defeating them in battle. They had adopted the weaker policy of paying the intruders a heavy tribute, in order to keep them quiet; and when Brian’s father, Kennedy, died, and Brian’s elder brother, Mahon, came to the throne, he carried on the same policy. But Brian utterly refused to make any truce with the Northmen, or to pay them any tribute whatsoever; and when he saw that Mahon was determined at all costs to keep peace he left the royal palace of Kincora, on the Shannon, and he and a band of the most hardy and independent of the young chiefs of the neighbourhood betook themselves to the forests and wild parts of North Munster, whence they issued forth by day or night to attack and harass the Northmen. Many of them they cut off and killed, but on the other hand a number of Brian’s followers were slain, and they were all reduced to great straits, from lack of food and shelter. For, like Alfred the Great in similar circumstances, they had to live in huts or caves or wherever they could get refuge; and often they could get no food but roots and wild herbs, so that their strength was reduced, and in the wet weather they became in wretched plight. Brian’s brother, Mahon, hearing of this, sent for him, and tried to induce him to give up his roving life and return to Kincora; but Brian, in no wise daunted by all that he had gone through, reproached Mahon for having made a dishonourable truce with the foreigners, which neither their father nor any of their ancestors would have approved. When Mahon excused himself, saying that he did not care to lead his clan to certain death, as Brian had led the young chiefs, his brother replied that it was their heritage to die, and the heritage of all the clan, and whatever they might do they could not escape death; but that it was not natural or customary to them to submit to insult or contempt at the hands of their enemies. And he so wrought upon Mahon that he determined to adopt his brother’s advice, and they called an assembly of the tribe, who with one heart gave their voice for war. From that time forward Mahon and Brian grew stronger and stronger. They gained a great victory over the foreigners at Limerick, plundered their goods and sacked the fort; after that they set fire to the town and reduced it to ashes, and they banished Ivar, Prince of Limerick, to Wales. The soldiers of the Norsemen, who were billeted on the people, and did them grievous wrong, were driven out, and Mahon reigned as undisputed king.

But treachery arose among his own followers, for some of them were envious of his success, and Donovan and Molloy, two of his chiefs, betrayed him in Donovan’s own house, being instigated to the foul act by Ivar of Limerick, who wished to be revenged on Mahon. The prince was suddenly surrounded while he was at a peaceful meeting with the clergy of the province. He bore on his breast the Gospel of St Fin-Barre, to protect him, but when he saw the naked sword lifted to strike he plucked it out of his tunic and flung it over the heads of those that stood nearest him, so that his blood might not stain it. The Gospel fell into the hands of a priest who stood at some distance, with Molloy beside him. Not knowing that it was Molloy who had planned the murder of Mahon, nor understanding what was passing, the priest turned to Molloy and asked him what he should do with the book. “Cure yonder man with it if he should come to thee,” laughed the traitor, and with that he leaped on his horse and fled from the place. When the cleric perceived what was done and that Mahon had been slain, he fervently cursed the deed, and prophesied that evil would befall Molloy. Looking at the book he saw that it was sprinkled with Mahon’s blood; he gave it to Colum, who was the abbot, and they wept at the sight of the blood on its pages, and at the death of the King.

After that the sovereignty fell to Brian, and the beginning of his reign was one vigorous, long-continued struggle to rid his country from the hosts of the invaders. He made untiring war on them, driving them out of his territories, until he seated himself firmly on the throne of Munster. Then he began to aspire further, and he thought that he would attempt the High-Kingship of Ireland, and would endeavour to drive the Northmen not only from the south, but from the whole country. He marched north into Leinster, for the men of Leinster, with the Norsemen of Dublin, revolted from Brian, and they met at the Glen of the Gap, in County Wicklow, at the pass beside the ancient palace of the Kings of Leinster.

A great battle was fought between them, and Brian was completely victorious; he marched on straight to Dublin, and took the Danish fort of Dublin, and plundered it, gathering the spoil of gold and silver ornaments and precious stones, goblets and buffalo horns, wondrous garments of silk, and feather beds, with steeds and slaves, into one place, and dividing it among the clansmen. From Great Christmas to Little Christmas Brian rested his army there (i.e. from Christmas to Epiphany), and from that time forth no Irishman or Irishwoman needed any longer to set hands to menial labour, for things were changed, and the foreigners became their slaves and did the kneading and grinding and washing for the households of the conquerors. Up to this time the foreigners had enslaved the Irish. Then Brian ravaged Leinster, and he caught Melmora, the King, hidden in a yew tree, where Morrogh, Brian’s young son, saw him concealed among the branches, and pulled him down. He returned to Munster, having made peace with Melmora; and Sitric Silken-beard,30 the Norse King of Dublin, submitted to him, and Brian gave him his daughter in marriage. For fifteen years there was peace and prosperity in the country, and Brian sent abroad to purchase books, and to find teachers and professors in place of those whom the Norsemen had destroyed; he rebuilt churches, and encouraged learning, and made bridges and causeways, and highroads all through the country; and he strengthened the fortresses, and ruled well and generously. He made a royal progress through the land, taking hostages from all the chiefs in token of their subjection to him. But all the time the Northmen were planning to avenge themselves upon him, by an expedition the like of which had not been made before into Ireland; and the King of Ireland, Melaughlan, whom Brian had dethroned, joined with them against him.

A great fire may arise from a little spark, and the light which set Ireland and the North ablaze was kindled by the angry words of a jealous woman.

Gormliath (or Kormlod, as she is called in Northern saga) was the fiercest and most dreaded woman of her time. She is said in the saga to have been “the fairest of women, and best gifted in everything that was not in her own power, but it was the talk of men that she did everything ill over which she had any power”—that is, she had the best gifts of nature, but out of her own will she did nothing but what was bad. Already she had been married to two husbands, to the last Danish King of Dublin, Olaf o’ the Sandal, by whom her son was Sitric Silken-beard, the reigning king when Brian conquered the fort of Dublin. But even Olaf had found Gormliath too wicked a woman, and he had sent her away, after which she married the King of Ireland, Melaughlan, whom Brian dethroned. After his downfall she seems to have gone with Brian to Kincora, and been married to him, though her former husband was still alive. So wicked a woman was little comfort to any husband, and it was not long before we find her parted from Brian also and taking part against him in every way in her power. But at the time of our story she was living with Brian at Kincora, though her acts show that she had little love for him. She was a Leinster princess, and sister of that King of Leinster whom Brian’s son had caught hiding in the yew tree. Brian had made peace with him, and he had consented to pay tribute to Brian as his over-lord. One day he set forth to conduct a tribute of pine trees for ship-masts to Brian, but at a boggy part of the road ascending a mountain a dispute broke out between the drivers of the wagons, and to prevent the masts falling the King himself sprang from his horse and put out his hand to support the mast that was in front. In doing so one of the buttons of his silken tunic broke off. The tunic had been a gift to him from Brian, and had on it a rich border of gold and buttons of silver. When he arrived at the palace Melmora took off his tunic, and took it to his sister Gormliath, asking her to sew on the silver button. But the Queen angrily threw the garment into the fire, reproaching him bitterly for taking gifts from Brian or giving tribute to him, and in every way stirring him up against her husband.

The next morning fresh cause of quarrel arose out of a game of chess which Morrogh, son of Brian, was playing with Conang, his nephew. Melmora was standing by, teaching Conang the game, and he advised a move which lost the game to Morrogh. At that angry words arose between them, and Morrogh said: “It was thou that gavest advice to the foreigners at the battle of the Gap when they were defeated.” “I will give them advice again, and they shall not be defeated,” was Melmora’s retort. “Take care that thou have the yew tree ready, then, in which to hide thyself and them,” was Morrogh’s reply. At this the King of Leinster grew furious, and the next morning, without asking permission or taking leave of anyone, he left the palace, and started to return to Leinster. He was mounting his horse on the east side of the wooden bridge of Killaloe, when a messenger overtook him, sent hastily by Brian to beg of him to return; he gave the King’s message, telling him that Brian desired to part from him peaceably and to give him gifts of gold and vestments. The only reply that Melmora made was to strike at the officer with his horse-switch, so that he was carried back dying to Kincora.

When this was related to Brian some of those who stood round him called on him to pursue Melmora and force him to submit. But Brian said that he would not pursue one who had been a guest under his roof, but that at the door of his own palace in Leinster he would demand satisfaction from him.

Hardly had Melmora returned to his own palace than he set himself with all his power to raise up enemies to Brian. He said that he had received insult, not only to himself, but to the province, in the house of Brian, and he incited the princes of the province to turn against the King of Munster. They declared for war, and began to assemble a great host. Moreover, Melmora sent messengers to stir up the princes of the north, so that on both sides, from Ulster and from Leinster, war was declared against Brian. The rebels effected an alliance with the foreigners of Dublin, who busied themselves in gathering the most formidable host that ever reached the shores of Ireland. And on his side also Brian bent all his efforts to gather together an army so great that it could not be overcome, and he plundered far and wide to get provisions for his host and to weaken the enemy. In the spring he was ready to set out for Dublin with his army, and when Sitric Silken-beard, Norse King of Dublin, saw that, he sent messengers to the Orkneys and to the Isle of Man to stir up the Northmen there to come to his assistance and to the assistance of the King of Leinster. It was Gormliath who egged him on. After Melmora left Kincora she returned to Dublin and she employed all her wit to set her son Sitric against her husband, Brian. “So grim had she got against him that she would gladly have had him dead,” says the saga. But Sitric and all the viking chiefs knew the goodness of Brian’s heart, “that he was the best-natured of all kings, and that he would thrice forgive all outlaws the same offence before he would have them judged by the law; and from that it was clear to them what a king he must have been.” But Gormliath would take no denial, and in the end she got her way, and King Sitric set sail for the Orkneys.