Clontarf; Part One: The Prelude
Near Casteltoun, the Isle of Man
18 March 912 AD
“Father, can you tell me what Dublin was like again, please?” Came the pleas of his young son. “Again! What’s this, the tenth time today, you seem eager boy,” Gofraid bellowed to the laughter of all the men on board.
“There is nothing wrong with wanting to know our home.” The boy protested. “And did I ever say there was?” He told the boy while settling down to speak. “Dublin was a great and beautiful city. Trade flowed from all-over and the tribute from the Irish kings wasn’t too bad either,” he said to his men’s laughter.
“The greatest thing, for me though, was the freedom. The freedom of the sea right next to us always present and always accessible,” with that he smirked, reminiscing about times past. “You could breathe in its salt spray and the chances and opportunities to embark on great journeys to see and explore our world were always there to be grabbed by the horns. Simply boy it was home,” he finished.
“And that’s why we’re meeting uncle Ragnvald here to get it back,” stated Olaf. “Exactly my boy,” and in pursuit of said goal the ship would quickly reach the land and beach on the sand.
While his other accompanying ships were doing the same Gofraid would jump over the side of his ship and join his men in dragging the vessel fully up onto the sand.
“Ásl gather the men once all have landed and set up a surrounding defence for the ships, nothing major just for safety,” he told the man who nodded in the affirmative. “I can already see billows of smoke from here, hopefully from Ragnvald’s camp, we’ll be moving once that has been done.”
Within an hour all ten ships would be on the beach and nearly two hundred and fifty men would be advancing towards the smoke leaving fifty men defending the ships. An hour later they would arrive in a decent clearing filled with tents, billowing banners and throng of men moving about. Gofraid would direct his men to set up camp on the outskirts of this one. While the men of the original camp would maintain some apprehension towards the strangers they would abide the newcomers with the almost identical banners.
Gofraid, on the other hand, would strike off with Ásl and his son towards the biggest tent in the camp. The one most likely to belong to his older brother. A man he hadn’t seen in seven years and who most likely still, like then, had a singular goal that was burning in them all. The return of the Uí Ímair to glory and power.
Arriving at and entering the tent he would be met with the man himself and what would be his council. Ragnvald would look up from the table and squint before smiling and crossing the room to embrace his brother. “Gofraid! You’ve made it. There were thoughts that you may not have attempted the seas as rough as they are but I’m glad you did,” he exclaimed. “Thank you Ragnvald but I would never miss something as important as this. I’ve also brought my son Olaf and this is my man Ásl,” he said presenting both individuals.
“Come here boy let me look at you,” coercing Olaf closer. He looked at him before stating “Strong lad you have here, one to be proud of,” to which he replied, “One I am proud of.”
“Good as he’s to be part of the strong future of our family,” declared Ragnvald before returning to the head of the table. “How many men have you brought,” he asked. “With me here I have around three hundred men and ten longships,” Gofraid replied. “Three hundred men isn’t exactly a great warband,” one of the men around the table would quip.
“No, it isn’t that’s why I have two thousand more men and sixty more ships ready and waiting to be called to fight. I must ask though how many men have you brought by yourself to the venture?”
The man in question would quickly quieten to the chuckle of his companions after which Ragnvald would enquire “-and these men can be called on quickly if needed I presume?” “With no notice, they could all be here and ready within a month,” would be his reply. “Good, with my men, yours, Sitric’s and our allies we have all the warriors and resources we need.”
“From our presence on Man I would presume Bardr is part of those allies,” he asked. “He was to be one of those allies but the bastard doesn’t see the bigger picture contenting himself with his little kingdom. The gathering of forces here is partially to convince him otherwise.”
“And if he is not convinced?” asked Olaf.
“Then he dies boy. We can not have someone with such an amount of men to be to our metaphorical rear and the men, ships and land of Man as a staging ground itself are too great to pass up,” was Ragnvald’s reply. That declaration added a note of finality to the air and discussion in the room before Ragnvald went and dismissed his men.
As the last man shuffled out of the tent Ragnvald would embrace his brother once more bringing him and his son to the table and pour them some mead. “I do not think Olaf is old enough to drink yet,” warned Gofraid. “If he’s old enough to go on a campaign he’s old enough to drink and as long as none of us tells his mother we should be fine. Hopefully.” jested Ragnvald. “How is Gytha by the way?” “She is fine and in good health.” “Good.”
A comfortable silence would settle over the brothers before being broken by Gofraid with him asking, “I have to ask brother, with your talk of a staging ground, the number of men we are gathering and how they are being gathered here partially to convince Bardr, are we…” “Taking back what is ours, yes, yes we are. The dogs Máel Finnia and Cerball. Flann Sinna is an old man only getting older and Dublin isn’t even ruled directly by any of the Uí Néill, some man named Knight is their steward there and as such the amount of defences and men devoted to it by them low. This is the time we’ve been waiting ten years for, the time to strike.”
“-And Sitric?” asked Gofraid. “Sitric shall be arriving soon with his forces from England and I would ask that you send word to your forces quickly.” Gofraid nodded in assent. “They will be ready and waiting. The Uí Néill shan’t see us coming.”
Gofraid would down his cup and get up with his son attempting the same but choking. “Get up boy, your going to have to get used to that with him around,” Gofraid said gesturing to Ragnvald. Olaf would grin, wipe his mouth and rush out with Ásl right behind him and Gofraid turning to go with them but the man would stop and turn back to his brother.
“One final thing I wish to know is the need of so many men, I mean with all my men, yours, Sitric’s and any allies that’s somewhere near ten thousand warriors. To take back an undermanned Dublin I would question the need for so many forces.”
Ragnvald’s face would turn very solemn before answering,“We don’t have the luxury of wide farming lands to give to give to any potential settlers unlike the flotnar in England and as such while we can attract as many men as them we are unable to keep such. Remember when you were twelve and the number of ships and men in Dublin seemed to halve?” Gofraid would nod. “That’s because it did, half of all our forces left to seek their fortunes and livelihoods elsewhere. There simply wasn’t enough land to keep them all there. The Uí Néill and to a greater extent all the Irish kings don’t have this issue and they know we do. One day there’ll be too many of them compared to us that battle would become suicide, even against their unarmoured hides,” exclaimed Ragnvald.
“In essence, the reason I’m gathering so many men is that for the issue to never become a problem. We’re not just taking back what is ours but also taking a little of theirs and burning the rest. We need so many men to crush their armies, kill their kings and end their fight. When we’re done there will be just a bunch of infighting kings fighting over their burning scraps not to trouble us for the next one-hundred years. When we’re done the Shannon will burn red and on that island, We. Will Reign. Supreme.”
The current challenge is if anyone can figure out the differences between Athair a Stáit and The Unification Period. If you solve it, you can get both a cookie and either a named character, an event you want to happen - at my discretion of course - or something else along those lines.
If you have any historical event or happening that you would like reviewed as in the death of this guy or this battle goes differently say so. If you don't I'll most likely blow past it and just assume it went as OTL. Thanks, again.
As always any questions you have, please ask. Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy it.
18 March 912 AD
“Father, can you tell me what Dublin was like again, please?” Came the pleas of his young son. “Again! What’s this, the tenth time today, you seem eager boy,” Gofraid bellowed to the laughter of all the men on board.
“There is nothing wrong with wanting to know our home.” The boy protested. “And did I ever say there was?” He told the boy while settling down to speak. “Dublin was a great and beautiful city. Trade flowed from all-over and the tribute from the Irish kings wasn’t too bad either,” he said to his men’s laughter.
“The greatest thing, for me though, was the freedom. The freedom of the sea right next to us always present and always accessible,” with that he smirked, reminiscing about times past. “You could breathe in its salt spray and the chances and opportunities to embark on great journeys to see and explore our world were always there to be grabbed by the horns. Simply boy it was home,” he finished.
“And that’s why we’re meeting uncle Ragnvald here to get it back,” stated Olaf. “Exactly my boy,” and in pursuit of said goal the ship would quickly reach the land and beach on the sand.
While his other accompanying ships were doing the same Gofraid would jump over the side of his ship and join his men in dragging the vessel fully up onto the sand.
“Ásl gather the men once all have landed and set up a surrounding defence for the ships, nothing major just for safety,” he told the man who nodded in the affirmative. “I can already see billows of smoke from here, hopefully from Ragnvald’s camp, we’ll be moving once that has been done.”
Within an hour all ten ships would be on the beach and nearly two hundred and fifty men would be advancing towards the smoke leaving fifty men defending the ships. An hour later they would arrive in a decent clearing filled with tents, billowing banners and throng of men moving about. Gofraid would direct his men to set up camp on the outskirts of this one. While the men of the original camp would maintain some apprehension towards the strangers they would abide the newcomers with the almost identical banners.
Gofraid, on the other hand, would strike off with Ásl and his son towards the biggest tent in the camp. The one most likely to belong to his older brother. A man he hadn’t seen in seven years and who most likely still, like then, had a singular goal that was burning in them all. The return of the Uí Ímair to glory and power.
Arriving at and entering the tent he would be met with the man himself and what would be his council. Ragnvald would look up from the table and squint before smiling and crossing the room to embrace his brother. “Gofraid! You’ve made it. There were thoughts that you may not have attempted the seas as rough as they are but I’m glad you did,” he exclaimed. “Thank you Ragnvald but I would never miss something as important as this. I’ve also brought my son Olaf and this is my man Ásl,” he said presenting both individuals.
“Come here boy let me look at you,” coercing Olaf closer. He looked at him before stating “Strong lad you have here, one to be proud of,” to which he replied, “One I am proud of.”
“Good as he’s to be part of the strong future of our family,” declared Ragnvald before returning to the head of the table. “How many men have you brought,” he asked. “With me here I have around three hundred men and ten longships,” Gofraid replied. “Three hundred men isn’t exactly a great warband,” one of the men around the table would quip.
“No, it isn’t that’s why I have two thousand more men and sixty more ships ready and waiting to be called to fight. I must ask though how many men have you brought by yourself to the venture?”
The man in question would quickly quieten to the chuckle of his companions after which Ragnvald would enquire “-and these men can be called on quickly if needed I presume?” “With no notice, they could all be here and ready within a month,” would be his reply. “Good, with my men, yours, Sitric’s and our allies we have all the warriors and resources we need.”
“From our presence on Man I would presume Bardr is part of those allies,” he asked. “He was to be one of those allies but the bastard doesn’t see the bigger picture contenting himself with his little kingdom. The gathering of forces here is partially to convince him otherwise.”
“And if he is not convinced?” asked Olaf.
“Then he dies boy. We can not have someone with such an amount of men to be to our metaphorical rear and the men, ships and land of Man as a staging ground itself are too great to pass up,” was Ragnvald’s reply. That declaration added a note of finality to the air and discussion in the room before Ragnvald went and dismissed his men.
As the last man shuffled out of the tent Ragnvald would embrace his brother once more bringing him and his son to the table and pour them some mead. “I do not think Olaf is old enough to drink yet,” warned Gofraid. “If he’s old enough to go on a campaign he’s old enough to drink and as long as none of us tells his mother we should be fine. Hopefully.” jested Ragnvald. “How is Gytha by the way?” “She is fine and in good health.” “Good.”
A comfortable silence would settle over the brothers before being broken by Gofraid with him asking, “I have to ask brother, with your talk of a staging ground, the number of men we are gathering and how they are being gathered here partially to convince Bardr, are we…” “Taking back what is ours, yes, yes we are. The dogs Máel Finnia and Cerball. Flann Sinna is an old man only getting older and Dublin isn’t even ruled directly by any of the Uí Néill, some man named Knight is their steward there and as such the amount of defences and men devoted to it by them low. This is the time we’ve been waiting ten years for, the time to strike.”
“-And Sitric?” asked Gofraid. “Sitric shall be arriving soon with his forces from England and I would ask that you send word to your forces quickly.” Gofraid nodded in assent. “They will be ready and waiting. The Uí Néill shan’t see us coming.”
Gofraid would down his cup and get up with his son attempting the same but choking. “Get up boy, your going to have to get used to that with him around,” Gofraid said gesturing to Ragnvald. Olaf would grin, wipe his mouth and rush out with Ásl right behind him and Gofraid turning to go with them but the man would stop and turn back to his brother.
“One final thing I wish to know is the need of so many men, I mean with all my men, yours, Sitric’s and any allies that’s somewhere near ten thousand warriors. To take back an undermanned Dublin I would question the need for so many forces.”
Ragnvald’s face would turn very solemn before answering,“We don’t have the luxury of wide farming lands to give to give to any potential settlers unlike the flotnar in England and as such while we can attract as many men as them we are unable to keep such. Remember when you were twelve and the number of ships and men in Dublin seemed to halve?” Gofraid would nod. “That’s because it did, half of all our forces left to seek their fortunes and livelihoods elsewhere. There simply wasn’t enough land to keep them all there. The Uí Néill and to a greater extent all the Irish kings don’t have this issue and they know we do. One day there’ll be too many of them compared to us that battle would become suicide, even against their unarmoured hides,” exclaimed Ragnvald.
“In essence, the reason I’m gathering so many men is that for the issue to never become a problem. We’re not just taking back what is ours but also taking a little of theirs and burning the rest. We need so many men to crush their armies, kill their kings and end their fight. When we’re done there will be just a bunch of infighting kings fighting over their burning scraps not to trouble us for the next one-hundred years. When we’re done the Shannon will burn red and on that island, We. Will Reign. Supreme.”
*********
This is the first part of a series on the POD. It's also the first part of a group of post centred on or around the Isle of Man which was @Youngmarshall request after guessing the correct answer to the previous challenge.
The current challenge is if anyone can figure out the differences between Athair a Stáit and The Unification Period. If you solve it, you can get both a cookie and either a named character, an event you want to happen - at my discretion of course - or something else along those lines.
If you have any historical event or happening that you would like reviewed as in the death of this guy or this battle goes differently say so. If you don't I'll most likely blow past it and just assume it went as OTL. Thanks, again.
As always any questions you have, please ask. Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy it.