Chapter 2: The Isles

Two messengers caught up with Scott at Achahoish before he could set sail. One was from Colmgil to say that he was sailing with the remaining Knapdale longship, full of Cowall men, and would try to rendezvous with Scott on the western seaboard. He suggested Crinan. That fitted well with the second messenger, one of his own men who had gone to Dunadd with a message for King Fergus. It seemed King Fergus had not waited for Scott but had launched an attack on the Norse himself.

The Danes, perhaps the same host that had attacked Aird Driseig, had apparently completely routed King Fergus' smaller and less powerful boats. The King had only just managed to escape with his life, his own longship bigger than the others at his disposal and able to disengage and escape. The King it was said had been injured however, and Oengus of Loarne slain.

Scott recognised that this changed things strategically. He would need to go to Fergus himself and find out how badly the King was hurt before he set sail for the Isles.

Half a days sailing brought him to Crinan and he commandeered horses to ride to Dunadd. Leaping from the horse's back, Scott made his way quickly up to the top of the hill-fort and found Fergus lying in a litter, his healers in attendance. Scott was appalled to see the state of the King, skin pallid and grey, eyes sunken. The King saw him and beckoned for him to come closer.

"mac Fergus, I should have waited man, should have waited for you as you asked," his voice rasped.

"Do not strain yourself so my Lord King." Scott replied.

The King ignored him; anxious it seemed to speak.

"Should have waited, thought Oengus and I could handle it, but didn't have your tricks. They used your own device against us, jars of oil, set my boats on fire. What a sorry state this Dalriada is in now."

He broke off as a series of coughs shook his frame.

"Oengus dead, neither he nor I have an heir. Only Echdach and yourself to support the new King when I go."

"Echdach it was who conspired with the Danes to lay waste to my camp my Lord. I am sailing to the isles to find him and bring him to book for that. So he can't be relied upon. But you miss out young Gabrain, Lord of Cowall and Bute. He may be but a boy but he has the makings of a fine lord."

"This of Echdach is another fell blow for Dalriada, split, leaderless, weak. Only you to support the new King."

Once more he had to stop as a coughing fit consumed him.

"You don't understand mac Fergus, mac Domangairt is of the seed of Boanta."

Scott looked at the King, puzzled. He seemed to remember that Gabrain's mother's full name had been given as Eilean nic Malcolm mac Boanta and had thought it strange that she had both a 'daughter of' and a 'son of' in her name. He had heard no others with such a construction.

"I'm sorry my Lord, I don't understand?"

"The boy, he is a direct descendant of Boanta, the King who was before me. The line will pass to him on my death. He it will be that you have to support."

Scott sat back, stunned at this revelation. Gabrain was next in line to be King of Dalriada? He turned his attention back to King Fergus who was seized by yet another fit of coughing. It sounded wet and chronic, perhaps pneumonia.

"Look after him Scott, look after this Dalriada. She needs your strength like never before."

This last was barely a whisper and Scott realised the King was fading fast in front of his eyes. The King's hand came out and gripped Scott's, a surge of strength perhaps as his last breath rattled in his throat. The King's eyes remained open but were clearly lifeless. Scott took Fergus' hand and placed it gently on his breast. He stood and looked round the chamber at the healers before striding from the room and down the hill.

Gabrain saw him coming and ran forward.

"Scott what is to do?"

Gabrain was stunned as Scott dropped to one knee and took his hand between both of his own in the traditional gesture of fealty.

"I am your man and swear my allegiance and fullest strength in your support my Lord King." Scott said.

"What is this Scott? What are you at?"

"King Fergus is dead my Lord, he explained the succession would pass to you through your mother's line, through Malcolm and through him, Boanta."

"All know of this Scott, but why this mummery now?"

"No mummery my Lord. King Fergus is dead. You are now the King of Dalriada."

Gabrain gulped as the reality hit home that Scott was not fooling.

Scott recognised that Gabrain would not be able to go campaigning in the near future. Fergus would need to be buried and Gabrain would need to be crowned. That would take weeks. Scott worried about the fate of Fiona and Eilean in that time, the fate of others that might have been taken too for that matter. A delay in going after them was insufferable and he knew he would have to go on without the boy. He sent word for some of the Knapdale men to return to Aird Driseig for the present to try to recover and repair the two longships that had been holed in the loch. He had another special instruction for them to carry out while they were there.

He asked most of his men to remain here at Dunadd to aid Gabrain in making whatever arrangements were necessary. He himself had a couple of days to wait before he could set out, waiting for Colmgil and the Cowall and Bute men. He decided to ride up into Loarne to see whether he could convince some of Oengus' men to join him, perhaps using the lure of avenging their chief.

With twenty-five men he rode past Loch Awe and the church and camp at Kilmore on route to Oban. Just past Oban was the hill fort of Dun Ollaigh and Scott made for there to try and drum up some support. Men here were very subdued, the loss of Oengus hitting them hard. It was the Loarne area that had been receiving the worst of the Viking raiding hitherto and there was almost a sense of defeat about them. Scott tried to rally the men, offering them the chance to hit back at the hated Danes, but could only raise a bare one hundred men from what was a relatively densely populated area.

He returned to Dunadd and found the welcome presence of not only Colmgil but Lachlan too.

"Well met Lachlan my friend! I didn't look to see you for some time yet."

"I could linger no longer my Lord, fretted to be by your side, so took to horse and left the men in another's charge. They are still some ten days away from returning. When I heard the tidings at Aird Driseig I ached for your loss, for our loss, and would be at your side to repay Echdach's treachery."

"I pray you'll have your chance soon Lachlan."

Colmgil had brought two hundred men with him so Scott now had five hundred and fifty at his disposal, including the Loarne contingent. He fretted over the continuing delay as he waited for his men to hopefully return from Aird Driseig with the two further longships if they could be repaired.

Another two days and the ships appeared at Crinan, crammed with men. It seemed the men of Kintyre had decided they needed to do something in reparation for their errant lord's behaviour and had raised three hundred men to join Scott.

Gabrain had told Scott to take the royal longship too so he now had six longships and almost nine hundred men. They agreed that the crowning ceremony would take place in two weeks time so that was how long Scott had initially to take the battle to the Danes.

Now that he had as many men and ships as he thought likely, Scott was determined to set out at once, he hugged his King and rode for Crinan. The six longships were fully manned and more, with around one hundred and fifty men on each. Scott had split his archers so that there were twenty-five on each ship and they had been given special orders. Other men on each ship also had special tasks to perform when battle was hopefully met.

They sailed out past Mull and little Iona, swinging northwards into the Hebridean Sea and making for Skye. Past the islands of Eigg, Rum and Canna on their starboard side, Uibhist (Uist) and Beinn na Faoghla (Benbecula) on the port.

Three days out of Crinan they had their first sight of the Danes, two tall masts in the distance, but these beat a hasty retreat in front of them. Scott believed they had headed in the direction of Skye and he was sure there would be a Norse stronghold there. He knew in his own time that Dunvegan was recognised as an ancient Norse haven. They made good speed and time up the Minch and rounded Dunvegan Head, into Loch Dunvegan itself.

At its widest the loch was only two or three miles wide and Scott hoped that would be to their advantage as a large number of ships would find it difficult to manoeuvre easily. Even as he thought this he saw the loch open up before him and a forest of mastheads in front of him.

The first two longships must have alerted the Danes and Scott estimated there were nearly thirty of them now arrayed in front of him - possibly more than three thousand Norse.

"So be it," he thought to himself, "this is what we came for!"

He hailed the other boats to close in on his and gave last minute instructions and words of encouragement to his men. Tightening his formation would be what the enemy expected as he was completely outnumbered but Scott surprised and delighted them when each of his ships sheared away again so that his six were spread across the loch.

The Danes didn't wait for any further invitation; they were expert mariners and sea warriors. As pairs of Norse longships surged forward Scott signalled to have the specially made banners unfurled at the mastheads of his ships. The device on each was unmistakable, a black raven on its back, an arrow protruding from its chest. The message was clear - the Norse-slayer was here.

Scott now had to concentrate on the two Norse ships that were rushing towards him. He saw movement on the Norse ships and quickly raised the binos to his eyes to see what was going on. The Danes were raising nets to their mastheads, in effect covering their boats like a huge mosquito net. Scott realised that word of his oil and fire trick had been passed on and the Vikings were taking precautions. He shouted to his own men to do likewise. He had ordered them to bring nets from Aird Driseig, as he had been worried that his own trick might be tried against him. King Fergus had said that oil had been thrown by the Norse in his fight with them, so better to be prepared. It was strange, he thought, that both sides had thought of this same defence.

Scott was pleased to see the Danes were employing their normal tactics, one ship aiming to pass down either side of his ship. He called to steady his men and remind those with special tasks to be ready. At the last second he screamed to his men to raise their oars so that the Norse could not shear them. As they passed on either side of his ship a number of things happened. First, the Danes did indeed throw pots at his ship, men pulling back the netting to achieve this. But Scott's nets stopped them from reaching the deck and they fell harmlessly into the sea. Next, Scott's archers notched their arrows and deliberately fired at the Norse ship's leadership. While it might be difficult to be accurate when being thrown around by the sea, twenty-five arrows raced across the narrow spaces to spread death. Target the leaders! Third, Scott's men began to furiously crank the hand pumps on their jars of oil, spraying oil the length of each of the Viking longships.