“And you want me to strike it for your waverers—me!”
“No. At least . . . not that, Uncle. It is Galloway that is to strike it. Already they are in revolt there. I am to go to Galloway and to lead them in a united assault on Lowland Scotland. Your aid in this I wanted. But even if you only sailed your fleet down off the Ayr and Galloway coasts, it would serve. Serve to draw off the Normans. Then the earls would strike from the North. And you could sail on to Man . . .”
“Another gesture! That would serve your purpose?”
“It would greatly help! If it was timed aright. My aim is to allow the northern earls to win over Forth into the Lowlands with little opposition. Always the crossing of Forth at Stirling is the great hazard to any assault from the North. Even a few can hold up a mighty army there. Strathearn much fears this. If you could show a great fleet off Ayr and Galloway, and I lead a Galloway host northwards at the same time, the Normans will be forced to turn their whole strength in that direction. Then the earls will move their forces down and across Forth to assail the Norman rear. You need not land one man, Uncle—so long as you are there, and seen by all to be there.”
“And when would this be?”
“Best when they would least expect it—in the winter. It is October now. It will take time to muster and arrange all—in the North, in Galloway and here. Yuletide, then—they will not look for war at Yule.”
“That is a bad time for sailing these seas. There could be storms.”
“Do not tell me that Somerled the Mighty is afraid of putting to sea in winter! Besides, it would help you at Man, would it not? Godfrey would not expect assault then.”
Somerled pondered. “We shall have to see what Thorfinn says . . .”
The Norseman raised no objections, sufficiently thankful that an invasion of Man was in fact contemplated. His only concern was that the Argyll fleet, hanging about off the Galloway coast for long enough to serve Donald’s requirements, would almost certainly be reported to Godfrey and give him time to organise a defence. To which Donald countered that, if Godfrey was so well informed, he would know well of the Galloway rising and would surely assume, as would the Normans, that Somerled was concerned with that, not any invasion of Man—which seemed reasonable.
So the thing was agreed, even though Ragnhilde remained unhappy.
Yuletide it would be, when few would look for armed ventures. Meantime, there was a great deal to be done.
The great fleet sailed from the Sound of Mull on the Eve of St. John the Evangelist. It was slightly smaller in numbers than that which had gone to Arran two years before, eighty ships as against over one hundred; but there were no transports nor cargo-carriers here, all longships, the largest concentration of war vessels Somerled had ever assembled. And filled with fighting-men, to a strength of over five thousand, no women and children on this occasion. Despite the weather, a thin cold rain and fitful wind from the north-west, they set off in fine style and high spirits—even though Ragnhilde, for one, saw them go with strained face and bitten lip, her first-born off to war.
There was one longship which did not sail with the fleet, and that was the Manx vessel which had brought Thorfinn to Ardtornish. For, one morning in early December, unaccountably it was no longer at the moorings it had occupied since its arrival in the bay below the castle. Thorfinn was mystified, as were such of his companions as were in the castle. One proved to be missing, however, Paul Snake-Tongue, a considerable Manx chieftain. He, and the ship, never reappeared—so it looked very much as though this character had decided to live up to his by-name and had reckoned to buy his way back into Godfrey’s favour by returning to Man with the information of what was being prepared in Argyll. This did perturb Somerled and Thorfinn; but cancelling the venture was not to be thought of at this late stage of mustering, and with Donald already departed for Galloway. So surprise for the invasion of Man was presumably no longer likely.
Only the leadership was much worried over this.
With winds behind them they made good time down the coast, sufficiently so to be able to be able to lie-to for the night at Gigha, where the men were able to go ashore and stretch their legs and gain such shelter and comfort as they could. By next evening they were off the same Arran bay where they had moored two years before, and where Somerled sought information from the fishermen as to the latest news from the mainland. He was told that there was considerable excitement in Lowland Scotland, with varying rumours about the rising in Galloway, but general agreement that the Gallowegians were this time doing more than merely driving out Normans locally but actually on the march northwards out of their own province. Everywhere, it seemed, forces were being raised to move to check them.
The following day the fleet moved directly across the firth to the Ayrshire coast, to Irvine Bay, where they could lie offshore with some protection from the northerly winds under the lee of Ardrossan Head. Here they waited for most of the day, to allow their presence to be reported. This was the High Steward’s territory and it undoubtedly would not be long before he was apprised of their arrival—if he was not already on the march against the Galloway men. They did not go ashore.
As light began to fade they moved on southwards, to Turnberry, where there was another jutting headland which would give shelter from the fresh winds and seas. They could land here without causing much upset, for Turnberry was a property of Fergus of Galloway, in fact the seat of his son Gilbert. However, Gilbert, now acting Earl of Galloway in lieu of his immured father, proved to be away, with most of his men, involved in the rising, and there were no problems.
The next day followed the same pattern, with a demonstration off the coast at Ballantrae and a landing for the night in the mouth of Glen App. The weather had brightened and the wind swung into the east, but even so conditions scarcely enjoyable for idling along exposed shores. Men grumbled and discipline was difficult to maintain in so large a host. Somerled and his lieutenants were kept busy, if nobody else was.
After Glen App they moved on, in mixed rain-storms and watery sunshine, round Corsewell Point, the jutting northern horn of the Rhinns of Galloway peninsula, and so into the Solway Firth, where presently it was more sheltered. It seemed pointless now to continue with their flag-showing activities with only the Galloway folk themselves to observe them, so Somerled led the way directly eastwards to the Dee estuary and Kirk Cuthbert’s Bay, where was Kirk Cuthbert’s Town, the principal seat of the earldom. And there they were received distinctly coolly by Gilbert of Carrick himself, who promptly berated Somerled for coming too late. If he had brought his host a week earlier, all might have been saved. As it was, there had been a disastrous battle with the Normans at Whithorn and the foreigners’ armour and archers and heavy cavalry had prevailed. The Galloway force were defeated—if only for the moment—and the present campaign lost. If only the Islesmen had come when they were needed instead of lurking about the coast . . .
Somerled pointed out, with what patience he could muster, that he had done all that had been arranged with the Earl Donald, his nephew, and at the time specified. He had not agreed to take part in any actual fighting on land. He was sorry—but no blame rested on himself, as Donald must admit. Where was Donald now?
God alone knew that, the Earl Gilbert declared—possibly he was dead. The Normans had captured him at Whithorn.
This grievous news changed all, of course, and made a folly of all their recent moves and demonstrations. The MacEths were consistently unfortunate, it seemed. There was nothing that Somerled could do here now, for his nephew, his sister or her husband. He would be about his own business, now—Man.
None were sorry to turn their backs on accursed Galloway, to sail westwards
Now able to bend his whole mind upon the situation ahead, Somerled recognised that, on this occasion, he had indeed given hostages to fortune. If Paul Snake-Tongue had warned Godfrey of the planned attack, as seemed probable, then all this lingering off the Scots coast by so large a fleet would most surely hav
e been reported on Man, and so given Godfrey ample time to prepare his defence. Surprise, both in the long and short terms, could now be ruled out.
But Somerled was a born strategist, and the head-on-clash methods of warfare anathema to him. If he could not use surprise in project or in timing, he might still achieve it in sundry details and tactics. Certain factors were basic. He should endeavour to fight at sea, rather than on land where the local enemy would have the advantage of knowledge of the terrain and availability of reinforcement. So, since presumably Godfrey would not fail to recognise this, it would be a question of enticing the Manx fleet out to sea. How many ships Godfrey might have available it was not easy to compute. Olaf had had a large number, little as he used them—as any island kingdom must. One of Somerled’s worries was that Godfrey would have had time to send to Orkney for aid, since it was now a full month since the man Paul’s defection. So they might well be faced by a larger fleet than his own, and tough fighters. Somehow, then, as well as drawing the enemy out, they must try to split up his numbers.
Consulting Thorfinn and Saor, Somerled evolved the following strategy. It could be taken that Godfrey’s main force would be concentrated at the south end of Man, where were Rushen, the best anchorages and the greatest population. Saor, therefore, should take half the Isles fleet and sail openly to the north end of Man, round the Point of Ayre, and threaten the north-west coast of the island—indeed probably make a landing and set a few places alight. Enough to give the impression that this was the major assault—especially as Thorfinn’s lands lay at the north end. It was probable that Godfrey would have no exact information as to their full numbers, and forty longships would seem a sufficiently impressive fleet. It was to be hoped that the enemy would therefore send a substantial proportion of their ships up the west side of Man to deal with this. Somerled and the rest of his force would remain out-of-sight of land meanwhile, with only a couple of longships out as scouts, to observe if possible. Then move in towards the southern end of the island to seek and coax out the remainder of the Manx fleet. If all the enemy ships had sailed off northwards, then Somerled would land, set Rushen afire and all else necessary to draw back the Manx shipping—and be back out at sea waiting to receive them. Whereupon Saor would sail south, after them, to attack from the rear.
The success of such a plan would depend upon good information and communications between their two divisions—which meant some very fast-moving longships to spy and shuttle to and fro. Happily they could produce these, with double crews of oarsmen. Timing also would be vital; and since confusion of the enemy was a necessary condition, dusk, even darkness, would be an advantage. A naval battle at night was almost unheard-of—therefore let them make it so. Darkness would handicap them also, of course, but less so if they had planned and prepared for it. They would need daylight to lure the enemy north-westwards and then south again, so that timing would have to be such that the main engagement in the south started as light began to fade. The island was thirty miles long and it lay about thirty miles off the Galloway coast—so careful calculations were essential.
If the others were somewhat doubtful about this most complex strategy, Somerled was not. This was the man in his element. He ordered the fleet to sail only slowly and to follow a more westerly course than otherwise necessary, in case they were observed and reported on by Manx fishing-craft.
Nightfall saw them about fifteen miles due north of the Point of Ayre on Man. The weather was not calm but not stormy either. Somerled had the fleet heave-to and ordered torch-making on all ships, using pitch and tarred-rope and canvas such as the longships carried for running repairs. Then some practice with manoeuvring with torches lit fore and aft on each vessel. This was all distinctly confusing and confused, admittedly, and took a great deal of time and patience before lessons were learned and some effective operating and signalling achieved. But they had a long winter’s night to fill in and this at least kept all busy and alert.
At dawn, the two divisions separated, Saor to sail south by west, directly for the Point of Ayre, and the others south by east on a course to keep well out-of-sight of the Manx east coast. Each sent out the fast-rowing longships ahead as scouts.
Somerled’s forty had some fifty miles to go and aimed to do it in five hours, which should be about right for timing. They were to heave-to level with the southern tip of Man but just out-of-sight from the land. This around mid-day, awaiting their scouts’ report. It was an unpleasant day of drizzle and poor visibility—which was, on balance, in their favour.
A rendezvous in open sea in poor weather is always difficult and Somerled had to wait, fretting, for over an hour beyond the agreed time before one of the scout-ships found them, coming lashing up in showering spray. Its shipmaster declared that he had looked for them farther south. He informed that a large fleet had indeed left St. Michael’s Haven over two hours earlier and sailed off westwards. It was difficult to say how many ships—naturally he had had to keep miles away—but he would think that there were fully fifty sail. How many that might leave at St. Michael’s he had no means of knowing, hidden as that anchorage was. His companion-scout was trailing after the Manx ships and would try to report developments.
On business bent now, Somerled gave the orders to proceed for St. Michael’s Haven at their fastest.
They reached the almost landlocked bay in an hour, with only another hour of daylight left. Their approach revealed no sign of enemy shipping—but of course most angles of approach allowed no view into the bay itself. When they did round the corner of the obstructing island however, and could see in behind, it was to count some twenty longships still in the bay.
There was no debate nor hesitation now. Straight in the forty Isles ships rowed, in tight formation, gongs beating, oars flashing. Speed was essential here. All the Manx ships appeared to be at moorings, none looking immediately ready for sea or fully manned. Almost certainly most crews would be ashore. Somerled saw that, with any luck, he should be able to swoop down on these moored craft and either destroy or capture them almost without any real fighting—if he could reach them before the crews could be gathered and got back aboard. They had a bare half-mile to go.
In fact, the assault on those vessels was a complete success and almost bloodless. There proved to be men on board some of them, but nothing like full crews, and these mostly put up a mere token resistance; outnumbered six or eight to one, and unready for battle, they usually dived overboard and struggled ashore after a gesture at defence.
On the land, large numbers of men were gathering and staring, uncertain what to do.
Somerled himself had to make up his mind as to what next. This cheap victory was welcome, but he did not delude himself that the real test was not still to come. It was no part of his intention to battle with the Manx people if he could help it, much less to sack the island kingdom, whatever some of his folk might like to do. On the other hand he wanted to draw back Godfrey’s main fleet, and the only way to do this was to light sufficient fires at this south end to make it plain to Godfrey, sailing north, that his base was in dire trouble. Which meant a landing, resistance and fighting presumably, for which he had little time.
Seeing that the score or so of Manx ships were theirs for the taking, he shouted orders that his spare crewmen should board and man these, or such as were approximately ready for sea. Half of the rest of his men to follow him ashore.
So the Isles longships were driven shorewards and their prows run up on the beach, the men pouring over the sides with swords drawn and axes at the ready, yelling their challenge. The Manxmen, who seemed to be more or less leaderless, made no concerted attempt to oppose them, but retired hurriedly amongst the huddled houses of the quite large town of Rushen. Somerled with difficulty restrained his men from following them. Once they got caught up in those houses and lanes, they could be grievously delayed and hopelessly broken up as a force. This was not what they had come to Rushen to achieve. Leaving some to guard their rear and to counter any unli
kely attempt on the shipping, the rest would come with him up to the higher ground to the west of the town, where they would find some cothouses, barns, haystacks and the like to burn and be visible from a long way off.
This part of the programme in fact presented no difficulties. The fire-raising party were not pursued. Up on a shoulder of hill above the town and castle there were three farmeries well-placed for their purpose. Somerled, whilst sympathising with the innocent occupants there, had no compunction about setting alight their barns, cattle-sheds and hay stores, although he spared their houses. This was war. These multiple fires on the high ground, as dark fell, would light up the night sky with a red glow which would be seen from one end of Man to the other. If it did not bring Godfrey back southwards, at speed, nothing would.
With the conflagration well established, they hurried back to the ships, for time was now of the essence. There appeared to have been no trouble at town or shore, both sides warily keeping their distance. Dermot Maguire, in command there, informed that one of the Manxmen wounded in the takeover of the captured ships declared that Godfrey the Black had been sent a fleet of thirty Orkney longships.
It was almost dark now, except for the ruddy glare of the fires, and Somerled ordered a quick return to the ships and no delay about setting sail. He wanted to be out of that bay just as soon as possible.
Getting through the narrows at St. Michael’s Isle was not easy in the darkness, but the danger of collision was so evident that no crews required to be warned. Somerled was concerned for the competence of the newly-acquired craft and their scratch complements; but longships were all built approximately to the same design and should not present many problems.
Out on the open sea it seemed less dark, with the water to some extent reflecting the flames inland. The fleet, now almost sixty strong, could spread itself more—but not too much, advisedly. Most vessels could see half-a-dozen or so others but no more.
Lord of the Isles (Coronet Books) Page 34
