Chapter Two, Part Two: The Companies Come Calling, 577-607
Brendan died almost sixty years to the day of his arrival on the Insulam de Benedictus. In that time, he had never returned to Ireland, and, though he kept a fairly healthy correspondence with associates (not “friends” towards the end, for his had all passed on), he did not keep himself abreast of the great events and issues of the day. And with good reason- he was running the monastery at the edge of the world.
Therefore, he had known nothing of the changes that had been wrought on Erin’s Isle since his departure.
For one thing, a kingdom he had known and traveled in was gone.
With the money they had gained through trade, the Kings of Ailech looked for ways to spend it. They found an opportunity when Dál Riata, a neighbor to the East, fell into a political crisis. Dál Riata was a traditionally powerful state, with possessions on both Ireland and Pictland. However, in 570, they fell on hard times; an able King died, replaced with a weak child. A newly Christianized Pictish over-chieftain, sensing weakness, launched a strong attack on their Pictish possessions.
As the warriors of Dál Riata crossed to fight this threat, the Kings of Ailech looked upon her unguarded Western flank covetously. Conchobar and Dualtach, the successors of Forggus and Domnall, cast about for an alliance. They found one in the Kingdom of Dál nAraidi. Dominated by the Cruthins, a clan jealous of the Dál Riatans possessions in Ulaid, the two formed an alliance against the already engaged kingdom.
The resulting battles (the war itself lasting to 574, due to stalwart defenses and the seasonal campaigning of the warfare of the time) saw Dál Riata destroyed. Conchibar and Dualtach, along with their Cruthin ally, Faelan (now the self-proclaimed King of Ulaid), congratulated themselves on a campaign well waged.
However, this shift in the balance of power in Northern Ireland set of alarm bells in the other petty Kingdoms. In the halls of the King of Connacht, Loingsech, and in the chambers of the King of Munster, Cathal, and in the rooms of myriad other petty Kings and clans, the discussion focused on how the Uí Néills of Ailech had been able to run such a campaign.
The conclusion?
The trade with the Insulam.
While that might have been a misperception of the effect the trade had on the war (as some leading historians of the last century termed it), there can be no denying it was true in part. With the funds from this western fur trade, the Kings of Ailech had purchased the service of several mercenary bands, had bribed a few chieftains to switch sides, and mitigated the effects of raids against their cattle stock. This may not have been decisive, but it did certainly help.
It seemed decisive to the other Kings in Ireland. And it was this perception that would trigger the next development in the history of Irish contact with the Western Hemisphere.
In 577, the Loingsech, King of Connacht, issued a similar proclamation to that issued by Forggus and Domnall forty years before, calling on brave and adventurous souls within his land to come to his hall. He was answered by several men, including a few veteran Fánaithe [1] who had made their fortune, come back, and burned through it all. That would go a long way towards the success of the King’s proposal- an expedition to the Insulam for the purpose of fur acquisition, unrelated to that carried out by the Kings of Ailech.
Loingsech would manage to get forty volunteers, who sailed from his lands in March of 578. Following the same routes as those of the men of the North, the forty (none died on this voyage) would arrive at the island about a month after the fifty men of that years Northern expedition departed with their loads of furs. The monks and the Measctha of the island were confused by their arrival. Surely, it was not yet time for the Fánaithe to return? They inquired who these men were.
One blurted out- “The company from Connacht.” This stuck, and from thence the bands of the Fánaithe were referred to as companies.
The thusly named “Connacht Company” set out and began to collect furs for themselves. When the “Ailech Company” returned in October, with empty currachs, prepared to spend a winter carousing, they were shocked when they were informed that another “company” of Fánaithe from Connacht was wandering the island, and was probably returning to the monastery (now referred to as “Brendan’s”) as they spoke.
The men of Connacht returned in a trickle, in pairs or trios, dragging their stashes of furs with them. To the joy of the Ailech Company, they recognized some of the veterans from the previous expeditions that had joined the Connact Company. They spent a winter of hard drinking and womanizing- a far cry from what was to come.
The Connacht men would return home in June, laden with furs and tales of the winter. Loingsech was ecstatic with the haul. But as news spread to the North, Conchobar and Dualtach were enraged. They sent an emissary to Loingsech, complaining that his men had infringed on “our rights to our trade”. Loingsech’s reply was simple- “What rights?”
Connacht’s steadfast refusal to engage with the Kings of Ailech over this issue seemingly opened up the Insulam to the other petty Kings. The North’s monopoly on that trade was now over. Over the next few years, the Fánaithe began to take on a much more “national” [2] character. The different Companies were generally comprised of me hailing from land holding loyalty to the various petty Kings that backed them.
This caused other changes in the way the Fánaithe did their business. Seeking any edge they could over their rivals, the various Companies began to invest in dedicated sailors to enable the Fánaithe to stay on the island longer. These sailors were assisted by the development of a stronger, larger currach (the child of years of trans-oceanic travel), allowing more furs to be shipped at a time. An individual Fánaí would now spend several years on the Insulam (or, as it began to be increasingly called by those not in the church,”Far Island”) instead of merely a year.
Rivalries between Companies began to flare up, with brawls being recorded in the mid-580s. The new abbot of Brendan’s Monastery, Totnan, immediately did his best to quash fighting in and around the monastery. Arming volunteer monks and Measctha, he declared that he would keep the peace near the house of God. As the monastery began at this time to develop a small town of Measctha around its walls, the Fánaithe began to refer to it as “Peace Town”.
This cut down on the number fights, at least at first. Small skirmishes broke out in the wilds, but these were generally over who reached a good spot first. The orders from Ireland had yet to be issued for actual violence to begin, though that was shortly to take place…
607 marked the end of a period of rising tensions between the Kingdoms of Ireland, and by extension the Companies. The pot was about to boil over. However, 607 also marked the end of an era- for the last full-blooded Skin Man of the Insulam, named “Domhanghart”, by the monks. He had been 16 when the Plague struck. However, his life was an interesting one on its own. He was quick to volunteer to watch the Measctha children as they came to the monastery, and he, in his own way, passed down parts of his own, now dead, culture to them. For it was his influence that was the reason that the Measctha wore such crazed masks for their celebrations, why they struck their shoulder when frustrated, and used some native words for plants and animals and places.
But the world known by Brendan had entirely slipped away, and a new age was dawning for all on the island.
[1] For the first forty years of the Fánaithe, while they sailed to and from the lands of the Kings of Ailech, the individual Fánaí themselves hailed from across Ireland.
[2] “National” character in the Dark Ages is an interesting debate; the use of the term here refers to the fact that individual petty kingdoms were encouraging the development of Companies comprised of those living within their realms.
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