PANALBA

Of the 32 kings to rule Scotland from its emergence as a kingdom in the 9th century to the reign of Robert the Bruce 450 years later, only three are household names: the much maligned Macbeth, his successor Malcolm III Canmore and the man accredited with unifying Scotland, Kenneth I MacAlpine. The real Macbeth may have borne little resemblance to the character created by Shakespeare, but the reason for his fame is obvious. Malcolm Canmore remains famous for much the same reason; but what of Kenneth MacAlpine?

The traditional historical narrative tells of a warrior of Gaelic royal blood, rising through the ranks to become ruler of the west coast kingdom of Dalriada (modern Argyll – and inhabited by Gaelic speaking peoples, known to the classical world as Scots), and then through clever diplomacy and effective war-waging he becomes king of the Picts as well (Pictland being most of the rest of Scotland north of the Forth and Clyde, and centred on Scone and Strathearn in the south and Moray in the north). Having dispensed with the native Pictish aristocracy he establishes a Gaelic court, and the conquest is completed with is official unification into the kingdom of Alba, and the road to modern Scotland is begun. All subsequent Scottish and British monarchs take their numbering from Kenneth MacAlpine (and that of William the Conqueror in the English line), and he is seen as very much the father of a new nation.

This fiction was concocted by chroniclers writing between the 13th and 15th centuries, when the concept of primogeniture (eldest son succeeding to the throne) was firmly fixed. Thus, dynastic history required firm legitimacy, and the idea of the nation-state was taking root across western Europe – an ancient national dynastic heritage unbroken from Kenneth appealed not only to the men writing the annals, but those commissioning them as well. The MacAlpine myth was born, and it remains stubbornly enduring. The chroniclers also had a problem dealing with kings that didn’t fit the dynastic pattern, such as Giric and Macbeth, and they were either airbrushed out of the story, or simply demonised as illegitimate usurpers. Only now, with a modern appraisal of the records, the archaeology and a fresh outlook are we beginning to peel back the spin and start to reveal how Scotland was really born, the reasons behind it, and the men involved. Our first problem lies in who Kenneth MaAlpine actually was, as much as the role he plays.

By 800AD, modern Scotland was a patchwork of small kingdoms (I use the term kingdom as it fits the best, but these weren’t kingdoms in any way that we would recognise – there was no sense of a national identity, and the king was simply a leader of men, not the governor of a country). In the southeast there was Lothian, an English speaking arm of the kingdom of Northumbria; in the southwest, Galloway – a sort of Gaelic/Norse omelette of a place, soon absorbed into Scotland. Also, in the southwest was the British kingdom of Strathclyde – including Glasgow and Cumbria, akin to the principalities in Wales. In the far north and encroaching into the Hebrides was a pervading Norse influence, eventually evolving into actual landholdings. Another Welsh speaking peoples, the Picts (we don’t know what they called themselves), were split between a southern kingdom centred around Perth, and Fortriu in the north (essentially the future province of Moray) – although, at times one king ruled them both, usually from the north. And finally, there was the Scottish sea-kingdom of Dalriada in the west.

It has long been the tradition that the Gaels (the Scots), came to Argyll from Ireland and created the kingdom of Dalriada, centred on the Iron Age fort of Dunadd near Lochgliphead. They brought the Gaelic language, and a dynasty of kings that would eventually lead to Kenneth MacAlpine. We now know this to be nonsense. It is likely that the peoples of Argyll were simply Picts who spoke Gaelic, either because the Welsh-family language of the east never crossed the mountains, or it was basic expediency as their main trading, marriage and cultural ties were with the north of Ireland (less than 20 miles from Islay or Kintyre). Like all kingdoms of the time, it rose and fell, with its halcyon days coming around the reign of Áedán MacGabráin and the establishment of Iona as a high-ranking Christian site by St Columba in the late 6th century. By 800, the Pictish kings of Fortiu had been overlords of Dalriada for 50 years (the two are well connected via the Great Glen), and the Vikings were biting deeper, snatching up islands – including sacred Iona.

The Viking problem was having its affects on the northern Picts of Fortiu as well, and from around 800, the Pictish monarchy seems to have decided on a southern home away from the raiding, and Forteviot and Scone became their principal base (note. – there may have been a dynastic switch which saw supremacy move south). The coronation Moothill of Scone sits right at the point where the River Tay becomes tidal, it may have always been the natural focus of the kingship.

By the 830s the Norse (Danish) situation had become serious, and the Pictish king and his Scottish subordinate lined up on the battlefield to face the Scandinavian challenge in 839 at an unknown location. The Viking victory was total and saw the slaying of Wen son of Onuist, king of the Picts and his vassal Aed, king of Dalriada, along with a fair collection of warlords and knights. Like the Battle of Flodden many centuries later, the flower of a nation had been obliterated, and opportunists among the warrior aristocracy saw their chance, and enter stage left Kenneth MacAlpine.

The kings of both Dalriada and Pictland were chosen by a system that saw the strongest man, best leader within a world of royal cousins, appointed by the aristocracy – indeed, until the reign of Malcolm Canmore in 1058 the monarchy would ping-pong between these regal kinsmen: it was the norm. Pictland chose a new king to replace Wen, but he couldn’t have been up to much, for by 842 MacAlpine had ascended to the throne – the greatest opportunist of them all. Neither the name Kenneth or Alpine (he was known in Gaelic as Cinaed MacAlpine) were Gaelic, but Pictish, but he may have either had a Scottish mother or possibly he was part of the Pictish overlordship. Either way, he had some sort of Gaelic connection, but make no mistake, he was a Pict and with the disaster of 839 still fresh this opportunistic warlord saw his chance – he was now king of the Picts and overlord of Dalriada. The Chronicles styled him as Rex Pictorrum – king of the Picts, not of Alba, Scotland or anything like that.

He was crowned at Scone, not as the first king of Scotland but as the latest king of the Picts – there was no line in the sand, no unification, no Gaelic conquest, but there was a new dynasty at the helm; although not in the sense that later chroniclers would understand – the office of the crown was far more important than the person wearing it – so it was a fluid position within a dynastic framework.

By his coronation most of old Dalriada was under Norse control (and would remain so until the heroics of Somerled in the 12th century), as was much of the land north of Inverness. That said, the Vikings still allowed the Scots and Picts to use Iona as a burial site for their kings. The rump of Dalriada was conjoined with Pictland under MacAlpine and Columba’s remains were brought to Dunkeld. This symbolic transfer was traditionally seen as part of the ‘Scottish’ conquest, or for safe keeping against Viking raids – more likely, it symbolised a move to centralise the governance of the kingdom in Perthshire. It is also likely that a large number of Gaelic refugees flooded from Argyll into Pictland, perhaps even swamping some areas, and establishing Gaelic as the principal language – notably Atholl and Angus, where place names are often an amalgam of both tongues. If MacAlpine spoke Gaelic, this resettlement would have been easier. However, this is giving credit, where none is documented – indeed to modern historians, the reign of Kenneth I MacAlpine is uneventful, unremarkable and unimportant – what followed was.

What is remarkable about Kenneth MacAlpine is the longevity of his reign: dying of cancer in 858 at Forteviot near Perth (many of his followers had reigns of less than 5 years). Perhaps also, his main claim to fame is that his reign was fairly peaceful and from a time distant made him (following the bottlenecking of potential candidates in 839) the obvious choice as the first king of ‘Scotland’ as it became. The real mystery starts with Giric, a king with Gaelic credentials, but with no obvious Clan Alpine connection, who reigns following the death of Aed in 878. He may have been a member of an ancient Dalriadian royal family or a Pict from sidelined Moray. It seems that he is the first king to be described as king of Alba (Scotland), so something has happened – perhaps a Gaelic restoration of power), and had he fathered a dynasty then perhaps he would be considered our founding king, but alas not, and on his death in 889 (as with the death of that other Moravian outsider Macbeth), the crown swung back into the hands of the sons of MacAlpine. This time however, the new kings, Domnall son of Constantine and Constantine son of Aed had been brought up by their mother’s family in Ireland, and on their return they brought their Gaelic entourage, and with them the Pictish language dwindled, and its culture renamed as Scottish – Scotland was born, and Kenneth MacAlpine’s mythology begun.