Good Reads Columba’s Bones
David Greig’s Columba’s Bones focuses upon a particularly bloody time in the history of the Isle of Iona, a time which saw Viking raids and the consequent martyrdom of scores of monks in the early 9th Century (ca. 806-825 CE).
Some historical background: St. Columba or St. Colmcille was one of the three main patron saints of Ireland (See also Patrick & Brigid), and in the 6th Century was responsible for establishing several abbeys with the aim of promulgating Celtic Christianity amongst the pagan Picts and Anglosaxons of the British Isles. One of his most significant achievements was the Abbey on Iona, which served as a learning centre for clerics and repository for religious texts and artifacts. It was here in the scriptorium that work on the Book of Kells was thought to have commenced, though the manuscript was later moved to the Abbey at Kells. Columba died and was interred on Iona, but his remains (relics) were later divided and shared amongst the religious communities in Ireland and Scotland.
Columba’s Abbeys were easily accessible by sea routes, and they were plum targets for Viking raiders since they manifested the irresistible combination of great riches and poor defences.
Which brings us to our story. You would be tempted to class this a simple historical fiction, but it is a decidedly original take on that genre; for the story uses this historical background to stage the far-ranging and whimsical exchanges between the three survivors of a devastating Viking raid.
Greig presents dramatic opening scenes which alternate between the approaching Viking raiding party and the sitting-duck monks in Iona Abbey. Aboard the long boat, the aging raider Grimur is struggling to keep up with his younger comrades (Buttercock, Bloodnose, Gore Dog, &Co.) in their furious rowing towards the abbey. Yet, even in the midst of his labours he notes that the island appears to be “an imagined place, half in and half out of this world”.
Meanwhile within the abbey, the Viking sail has been sighted. Abbott
Blathmac calls an assembly and rallies his fellow clerics with a zealous injunction: “Let your fear fall away, brothers! Do not flinch, but walk towards the killing blade singing! Welcome the knife to your neck, for tonight you dine with Christ!” The reaction is mixed, and generally less than enthusiastic. One young monk, Martin, sensing acute distress in the lower tract, rushes off to the Abbey’s latrines for relief.
The raiders reduce the gate to splinters in no time and proceed with their grim business of killing and pillaging. A key moment comes when Abbott Blathmac has his limbs tethered to four ponies and is enjoined to reveal the location of the reliquary with the bones of St. Columba… or be quartered. Flushed with zeal—or is it the Holy Spirit?—blathmac declines to speak.
The raid ends.
All the monks have been beheaded. All the other denizens have been either killed or taken as slaves. The Vikings’ last act on the island is to bury Grimur, who has been found insensible in the Abbey smithy; his comrades speculate that he died in the heat of the action. They place him in a shallow grave with his shield over his face and his few possessions beside him, and cover him with earth.
Brother Martin of the loose bowels has chosen very sagely in the midst of the chaos to remain in the latrine…read IN the latrine…rather than exit to face certain death. He finally emerges, and, smitten with guilt, starts to pray, and resolves to keep up the work of the Abbey.
Una, the blacksmith’s wife, has also survived. She was able to distract the fierce Grimur from his killing tasks with draughts of a powerful narcotic mead which rendered him so comatose as to be taken for dead.
Brother Martin, in his newfound zeal, prays over Grimur’s grave, and as he utters the words “At the final trumpet blast the dead shall rise…” Grimur’s very much alive hand pushes up through the earth.
These opening scenes are very telling, for they reveal Greig’s substantial dramatic gifts and an instinct for creating incongruous situations. What starts as a seemingly true-to-life historical tale turns into an almost farcical play on different aspects of barbarity and humanity.
As the novel unfolds, curious dynamics develop between the three characters. Grimur, who was never a very bloodthirsty Viking, finds life on Iona strangely appealing…. He enjoys reconstruction—building things instead of destroying them. And he strikes up a surprisingly passionate intimacy with Una, the blacksmith’s widow. Moreover, he is at once perplexed and intrigued by Brother Martin’s faith, especially those aspects linked to the production of an illuminated Bible (fanfare: The Book of Kells!)… There are constant clashes between the pantheon of Norse gods that Grimur carries in his head, and this putative Christ who seems to be responsible for great beauty and great suffering. Oddly, the two competing belief systems find an unlikely congruence: a determination to keep working on the Bible.
All three characters are united in their dread of what will happen when the Vikings return for another raid. And return they do….
Generally Greig impresses by being able to breathe life into these historically remote characters as he imbues them with modern sensibilities and selfawareness. (Think “Larry David does the Anglo-saxon Chronicles”.) Moreover, in the ethereal confines of Iona, the exchanges between the characters and their united purpose (to preserve the Book of Kells) seem to probe the very nature and foundation of faith.
If you would like to pick over
Bones, contact the Library.