Rory Fitzgerald
“The Vikings are back,” I remarked, almost casually, to a passer-by in St Anne’s park recently. “That shower never give up, do they?” he replied, without missing a beat.
It was indeed strange to arrive in a clearing in the park one evening to find it arrayed with tents, outside which Vikings were avidly practicing their sword craft. The week running up to the 1,000-year anniversary re-enactments of the Battle of Clontarf was almost better than the event itself.
As we live adjacent to the park, we wandered down each evening during the week to speak to the Vikings as they arrived from Scandinavia and Scotland, as though they were time travellers from the past.
My wife has a name of Viking origin and my name has a Norman origin, and so ultimately a Viking, origin too. Therefore, our little Vikings were in their natural element. They soon concocted their own Viking costumes, inclusive of swords and shields. However, the kids were somewhat unsure as to whether these Vikings were altogether human. When pedalling through a throng, Seán complained: “It’s really hard to cycle here with all these people and Vikings in the way.”
The Irish story is closely intertwined with the Viking one. Even those traits often seen as quintessentially Irish, like red-hair, may have been largely given to us by the Vikings. The only other place where the commonality of red hair compares to Ireland and Scotland is Scandinavia. Scientists have noted that in Ireland red hair, and Viking surnames, are to this day more common near where Vikings settled a thousand years ago.
Mediaeval art
Irish mediaeval art was heavily influenced by Viking art. Most of Ireland’s cities ñ including Dublin, Cork, Waterford and Limerick ñ were founded by Vikings.
We Irish often imagine ourselves to be an anciently Christian people, and that the faith of the Irish was uniformly Christian since St Patrick’s time. We think the Vikings left. However, the Vikings did not leave after the Battle of Clontarf. In fact, they stayed and intermarried with the native Irish.
In 1028 the Viking king, Sitric Silkbeard, formally established the Diocese of Dublin. However, this only marked the tentative beginnings of the Christianisation of Dublin. Indeed, in the Annals of the Four Masters, Dubliners were referred to as Muintir Tomar – ‘Thorís people’ – such was their dedication to the pagan deity.
In 999, in an earlier battle near Dublin, Brian Boru cut down and burned the trees of Caill Tomair (Thor’s Wood). This was a sacred grove where Dublin Vikings likely practised animal and even human sacrifice.
Viking cousins
Most, if not all, modern Irish people are descended from both the Vikings and the Irish of that time. The common conception across rural Ireland of Dubliners as marauding heathens may have deeper roots than many suspected. Our pagan past is likely darker, and more recent, than our self-mythologising would have us believe.
It was strange therefore, to see ‘Viking’ jewellers once again in Dublin selling both amulets of Thor’s hammer, alongside Viking Christian crosses. From what I could see, sales of Thor’s hammer were outstripping sales of Christian crosses by a remarkable degree ñ an interesting reflection of the religious climate of 21st Century Dublin.
Yet even amid speculations as to our Viking cousins, real cousins arrived for the big day, to share the fun of the battle re-enactments with our kids. There is a remarkable bond between cousins. Blood truly does run thicker than water.
Even if they haven’t seen each other in months, small children seem to sense a connection with their first cousins – as if they know bodily that these are the very next-closest thing to a brother or sister.
And so, in the sunshine of an Easter weekend, to the sound of clashing steel, heathen drums, deathly wails and blood-curdling battle cries, we all had a lovely picnic in the park.
