Donegal’s Inishowen peninsula and the county of Tyrone take their names from Cenél nEógain (the kindred of Owen), a powerful medieval royal house that was part of the northern Uí Neill dynasty. The story of its rise and fall is brought dramatically to life in this terrific new book by Brian Lacey, an archaeologist and historian who was the inaugural director of the Discovery Programme, the state’s archaeological research body. Cenél nEógain and the Donegal Kingdoms, AD 800-1200 is a companion to his earlier work on Cenél Conaill, another north-western branch of the Uí Neil.
From their ancestral seat at Ailech (today’s Inishowen Peninsula), Cenél nEógain kings pursued an aggressive expansionist policy eastward, achieving near total dominance of the medieval Irish north, as well as extending considerable influence south as far as Tara and beyond. Along the way, they came into contact, and often conflict, with other equally bellicose groups such as the Munster Dál Cais (of Brian Boru fame) and the Vikings (Norse and Danes). Lacey shows how, through careful political strategies, backed up by a fierce military prowess, Cenél nEógain kept both allies and rivals in check, sustaining their supremacy for the best part of four centuries until the advent of the Anglo-Normans.
Cenél nEógain’s rise to regional hegemony properly begins in 789 with a bloody military encounter, the Battle of Clóitech (modern Clady) on the River Finn. There, their ambitious and ruthless king, Áed Ingor (Hugh the Unfilial), later called Oirdnide (the ordained one), emerged triumphant over his Cenél Conaill foes. This victory set Cenél nEógain on an ascendant trajectory for generations to come.
Lacey makes a compelling case that Grianán Ailech, an imposing stone cashel in the southern part of the Inishowen peninsula, was a victory monument commemorating Clóitech. Indeed, he tentatively suggests that it might be an Irish version of the Roman Colosseum, possibly inspired by a religious pilgrimage that Áed’s father Niall Frossach made to Rome.
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Religion played an important role in the lives of medieval Irish kings. Over the centuries, the Cenél nEógain retained close connections to Fahan monastery, not far from Grianán Ailech, founded in the sixth century by St Mura. Numerous leading ecclesiastics at Fahan were Cenél nEógain people, thereby keeping possession of the site within the core kin group, a “family business” as Lacey puts it. Having their own family members hold high church positions conferred a certain divine legitimacy on their royal line. Later, the Ailech kings gained a level of control over Armagh, the main seat of the medieval Irish Christian Church, but Fahan always remained their spiritual centre.
Áed Ingor’s reign is the opening act in a long drama that played out over several centuries. Lacey’s easy-to-read genealogical tables are an invaluable who’s-who guide, not least helping the reader to distinguish one Áed (many bore that name) from another.
Niall Caille, Áed Ingor’s son, was feted for his energetic resistance to Viking raiding during the first half of the ninth century. But to ensure succession, further gain and enhance their power, early Irish kings married women from other royal houses, Irish or otherwise. Since medieval Irish kings practised polygamy, many had multiple partners of varying status, some chosen primarily for political reasons. Gormlaith, Niall’s chief spouse (cétmuinter), was daughter of Donnchad Midi, Chlann Cholmáin king of Tara.
Áed Findliath (Hugh the Light Grey), Niall’s son, was even more successful than his father in confronting the Viking menace, on one occasion taking “many (Viking) heads away with him”. But notwithstanding his reputation as a scourge of the Scandinavians, he also used them as allies against other Irish kings and took sides in internal Viking disputes.
Not every Cenél nEógain king was so fortunate. Niall Glúndub (Black Kneed Niall) perished during an assault on Viking Dublin in 919. Twenty-four years later, his son, Muirchertach mac Neill, likewise died at Viking hands. Lamented in poetry as a great warrior, the Annals of Ulster record Muirchertach as Echtoir iarthair Beatha (Hector of the western world). As evidenced throughout Lacey’s lively narrative, early Irish kings took to the field of battle in person just like their European counterparts.
Lacey’s clear, upbeat writing, alongside nearly 100 photographs plus 50 royal family trees makes for an engaging and entertaining read. Anybody travelling northwest for a long weekend could do worse than pack a copy of this gripping book.
Dr Chris Doyle is Lecturer in Medieval History at the University of Galway
