Song Before Clontarf

Lean on your sword, red-bearded lord, and watch your victims crawl,
Under your feet they weakly beat the dust with their dying hands,
The red smokes roll from the serf’s roof-pole and the chieftain’s shattered hall —
But there are fires in the heather and a whetting of hungry brands.

The beaked prows loom like clouds of doom along each broken port,
The monks lie still on the heathered hill among the fallen stones,
Over the land like a god you stand, our maidens howl for your sport —
But kites await in the heather to tear the flesh from your bones.

Clouds and smoke for a broken folk, a lash for a bended back —
Thus you roared when your crimson sword blotted the moon on high,
But the sea breaks and the world shakes to the battle’s flying wrack,
And death booms out of the heather to nail you to the sky.

~ Robert E. Howard ~

(postmarked March 24, 1930)

April 23rd marked the one thousand and tenth anniversary of the Battle of Clontarf. It was recognized at the time as a major battle, one which rewrote what was politically possible going forward in the isles of Ireland and Great Britain. It was a reaping of kings and the endgame of thrones across that portion of Europe. Numerous accounts were written of it in Ireland and a good portion of The Saga of Burnt Njal is devoted to it. Its outcome reverberated into the reign of Macbeth and the Battle of Hastings. I have called it “The Bloody Superbowl of the Late Dark Ages” and I stand by that. In fact, it can be argued that Clontarf marked a dividing point between the Early Medieval Period and the High Medieval Period which followed.

Without a doubt, Clontarf evoked thunderous echoes in the soul of one Robert E. Howard, as one can see from the poem that heads this post. REH wrote--at minimum--four yarns that were about or strongly referenced the Battle of Clontarf. By comparison, all of the tales that Howard wrote set in the Classical/Greco-Roman period--a span of about one thousand years--number maybe six or eight. It was because of REH that I visited Clontarf for the millennial anniversary of the battle in 2014. It also gave me a chance to meet up with friends like Morgan Holmes, as well as Al Harron and his family.

The first truly notable graphic arts depiction of the Battle of Clontarf was Hugh Fraser's painting from 1826.

As the hyperlinked article notes, Fraser's painting was seen as an implicitly political artifact during the period when the fight for Irish Gaelic voting rights within the British Empire was raging.

Robert E. Howard's classic fantasy tale about Clontarf, "The Grey God Passes", finally saw print in 1962, courtesy of August Derleth. Much of the notable artwork concerned with the Battle of Clontarf originates from Howard yarns like TGGP. The first such--if one doesn't count the Roy Thomas/BWS adaptation--is the Charles Miller edition from 1975. Here's the cover illo from Walter Simonson:

The text reads, "Illustrations by Walter Simonson". Are there other illustrations? This one pic is all I've seen. Simonson was an underrated heroic fantasy artist during the '70s.

Odin appearing at Clontarf isn't something that REH just stuck in there. That goes all the way back to the early Irish Gaelic account, Cogadh Gaedhil re Gallaibh.

Believe it or not, Ken Kelly--an Irishman by heritage; the O’Kellys are known to have fought at Clontarf--was quite possibly the next to illustrate "The Grey God Passes". While the 1978 Howard collection from Berkley was titled Marchers of Valhalla, its Ken Kelly cover matches TGGP much more closely than it does 'Marchers'. Thus and so, Kelly was one of the very first artists to ever paint a likeness of Turlogh Dubh O'Brien. That’s my take, anyway. Sigtrygg Silkbeard, king of Dublin, could only wish that the walls of Dublin Castle looked anything like what Kelly painted.

Soon after, the great Stephan Fabian illustrated "Spears of Clontarf"--the historical adventure version of TGGP. While not all that historically accurate, Fabian's illos bring the blood n' thunder in spades.

That final plate is Fabian’s voluptuous rendition of Gormlaith/Kormlada. The sister of Mael Morda, the king of Leinster, she was—possibly—married to three kings. Two, at minimum. The femme fatale of the tragedy that was the Battle of Clontarf, she watched from the ramparts of Dublin Castle while her brother and former husband—Brian Boru—faced off in cataclysmic battle.

Another player entered the mix in 1980. Morgan Llewelyn's epic novel about Brian Boru, Lion of Ireland, went straight up the bestseller lists. The novel was helped to some extent by this great cover painting from Don Maitz in his prime.

The success of the novel led an Irish production company to begin work on a film adaptation. They brought in legendary Irish artist, Jim FitzPatrick, to do production art. Coolness ensued, though the film was never made. Below are the illos directly related to the Battle of Clontarf.

Brian Boru, High King of Ireland, at the age of seventy-three on the day he died at Clontarf.

Gormlaith, the former wife of Olaf, king of Dublin and mother of his son, Sigtrygg Silkbeard. She was also the former wife of Brian Boru. According to several accounts, both Irish and Norse, Gormlaith was one of the chief instigators of the dispute which led to the Battle of Clontarf.

FitzPatrick’s rendition of Brodir the Black, generally considered the most formidable warrior among the Viking forces. One of the most fascinating characters in a story chocked full of interesting individuals.

Also during the ‘80s, acclaimed historical artist, Angus McBride, would start rendering paintings concerned with the Battle of Clontarf. He would continue to do so well into the 1990s.

Brian Boru is shown the head of a slain Viking in the days leading up to the Battle of Clontarf. Irish head-hunting goes back into mythological times and wasn’t completely abandoned until sometime around the Elizabethan era.

Murcadh—’Murrogh’ in “The Grey God Passes”—the son of Brian Boru and heir to the High Kingship of Ireland. Seen here rampaging through the Norse ranks, a sword in each hand, which is accurate according to the accounts we have.

Murcadh, fresh out of swords, manhandling a Viking. Luckily, he has a fellow Dalcassian to lend him an axe.

This was definitely intended by McBride to be a painting of the Battle of Clontarf, but I can’t say for sure just what point in the battle—which lasted at least twelve hours—it is supposed to depict. At a guess, since cavalry doesn’t appear to have been a major factor at any point, I would say that it shows the belated entry of the army of Meath into the conflict, which is said to have occurred after the murder of Brian Boru by Brodir the Black.

I believe this final painting is meant to depict Irish Gaels contesting the landing of Vikings at some point before the Battle of Clontarf. However, with the merest of squintings, it easily becomes the tail-end of Clontarf, when the Gaels pursued the defeated Vikings into the surf of Dublin Bay. Unluckily for the Vikes, the tide had risen at precisely the wrong time, around 6 p.m. that evening. A large percentage of the Viking casualties occurred at this point. Brian Boru's teenaged grandson, Toirdelbach—called ‘Turlogh’ in TGGP—perished while chasing the invaders into the sea.

Finally, we come to John Watkiss. I personally find him hit or miss. However, others love his art. These two illos were rendered for “Spears of Clontarf” and can be found in Del Rey's Sword Woman.

The Viking mercenaries advance in their ‘swine-formation’ under the leadership of Jarl Sigurd.

Jarl Sigurd, clasping his cursed raven-banner, faces off against the onrushing Murcadh. Murcadh would die later in the battle under mysterious circumstances.

If anyone out there thinks I left out some truly notable artwork connected with Clontarf, please let me know in the comments.

For a spirited account of the battle, with illustrations drawn from all over the place, check out this website.

I'll end this as I began it, with a little something from Robert E. Howard. This is a quote from "The Cairn on the Headland", which was written very soon after "The Grey God Passes":

"Then, as now, the importance of that battle [Clontarf] was underestimated by polite Latin and Latinized writers and historians. The polished sophisticates of the civilized cities of the South were not interested in the battles of barbarians in the remote northwestern corner of the world—a place and peoples of whose very names they were only vaguely aware. They only knew that suddenly the terrible raids of the sea kings ceased to sweep along their coasts, and in another century the wild age of plunder and slaughter had almost been forgotten—all because a rude, half-civilized people who scantily covered their nakedness with wolf hides rose up against the conquerors."