The Grianán – or sun-palace – of Aileach is a circular stone enclosure, a cashel, situated 244 metres (800 feet) above sea level and visible from miles around. It is easily accessible, as a road leads to the top of the hill on which it is situated. Around the massive stone enclosure, with its single entrance leading through the thick walls, there are three concentric earthen banks. The Grianán was built on the site of an ancient tumulus which may date from Neolithic times – it was certainly already in place by the Bronze Age. The present structure probably dates from the Iron Age, and was heavily restored in the nineteenth century. The edifice is an impressive one, and the surrounding views are staggering, stretching over five counties and encompassing mountains, lakes, beaches, cliffs, pastureland, the loughs Swilly and Foyle and the wild Atlantic. Derry, St Colmcille’s city where it was said that the angels were as numerous as the leaves on the oak trees, can be clearly seen to the southeast.
This is the centre of one of the ancient kingdoms of Ulster, and kings were ceremoniously crowned at Aileach until the twelfth century. The Uí Néills in the fifth century and later the O’Donnells reigned from here. Inside the cashel, there is relief from the howling presence of the wind, and smooth, green grass, with the layered walls rising in a circle around the inner court. The place acted as sanctuary, as an inaugural centre and as a palace. It was said that in its heyday the building was covered in red yew, in gold and bronze and in precious stones so that it shone as brightly in the day as in the night. Outside the cashel are the remains of an ancient roadway and a holy well.
The Grianán was the target of attack from the enemies of the king, notably the Danes in 937. After 1101, it was no longer used as a royal residence, having been destroyed by Murtagh O’Brien, the king of Munster. In revenge for the destruction of Kincora in 1088, Murtagh was said to have told his troops to take a stone each from the structure, so that it could never be rebuilt. The Grianán was, however, used again – not by the nobility of the land but by the peasantry in the eighteenth century, who took shelter in it to attend forbidden masses.
There are many legends associated with the Grianán – particularly in relation to the building of the palace. Some say that the great Daghdha himself built the original structure. Others say that, in the fourth century, a master-builder called Friguan eloped with the daughter of the king of Scotland and built the sun-palace in her name. There is a further association with St Patrick, who is said to have baptised King Eoghan here. Of more recent date is a folktale which associates the site with the Irish hero, Hugh O’Donnell. It is said that a man passed over the hill of the Grianán one night and saw a bright light shining from it. When he looked inside the light, he saw a great company of horsemen with swords and shields and shining armour. They sat upright on their horses, yet seemed to be sleeping. One of them opened his eyes and said to the man, ‘Is it time yet?’ holding his horn to the ready. The man ran away in terror, knowing that what he had seen was the sleeping company of Hugh O’Donnell, waiting for the moment to come to do battle for the land.
THE GODS OF THE HILL
The Daghdha, the Lord of Plenty and the great builder, sat strumming his harp as he looked over the northern ocean. Behind him was the Grianán, the sun-palace of Aileach. It was almost completed, this work of giants, and the great mother Danu would be pleased, for here was a fitting residence for the shining ones. The Daghdha was satisfied because he knew that his work would last well beyond even his long reign as All-Father of the Tuatha Dé Danann. Feasts would be held here, celebrations of Samhain and Bealtaine, contests and races and tourneys. The children of the Sídh would be born here, and grow to adulthood, and live out their thousands of years. All would move in an ordered pattern, like planets in their allotted spheres. He himself would be the great gift-giver and protector; Manannán would rule the kingdom of the sea; Áine the sun; Donn, the gentle king, the shadowlands of the dead; Brighid the flocks and the wild things; Eochaidh the herds of swift horses; and Lugh would be their many-skilled defender and their king. Even those other ones, those who were less kindly but still part of the immortal family – the Morrigan and her sisters, Badbh and Macha – had their part to play.
The Daghdha’s smile grew broader – truly, his mating with the Morrigan had been a magnificent one, as she had stood with one foot on either side of the River Uinsinn. He prided himself that he could fill a woman’s womb as well as his cauldron could fill a belly – leaving none dissatisfied. And her assistance at the battle had been a decisive element in their great victory. The children of Danu had finally defeated the evil Fomorians at the Battle of the Plain of the Two Pillars, Moytura.
Now the song that he played told the story of that struggle – of how the shining ones had driven the forces of darkness from the land. The battle had been long coming and hard fought. Years before, the Tuatha Dé Danann had fought the Fomorians and defeated them. But during that battle, the great leader, Nuadhu, had lost his arm and had thus had to give up the kingship, for the leader of the realm had to be without blemish. Bres, half Fomorian and half of the race of the Tuatha Dé Danann, had become the new king, but he had been a tyrant, forcing the gods into slavery and conniving with the Fomorians, especially with the giant, Balor na Súile Nimhe (Balor of the Evil Eye). The Daghdha sang of how the physician, Dian Céacht, had made a new arm of shining silver for Nuadhu, and he had taken back the kingship of the Tuatha Dé Danann, and the leaders had met and decided to finish the fight with their enemies for once and for all.
The sun sets over the Grianán of Aileach, County Donegal.
The Daghdha sang of the preparations for the second great battle, when, led by Nuadhu, the smiths and wrights and carpenters had forged magical weapons and built battle-chariots. He sang of the death of Nuadhu, and of how the shining Lugh of the Long Arm had killed his grandfather, Balor, with a stone from his sling shot through the giant’s malevolent eye. He sang of how Goibhniu the smith had made magical weapons that mended themselves overnight, however badly they were broken during the battle, and how Dian Cécht had cured those who had been wounded. He sang of how the Fomorians and their allies, the Fir Bolg, had been routed and had fled to their ships, and how the body of Nuadhu of the Silver Arm had been taken to Grianán. He was now buried under the great stone enclosure, and the hero, Lugh, had taken his place as king of the tribe of Danu.
Finally, the Daghdha sang of how his days of servitude to the Fomorians were over. Now he could concentrate on what he wanted to do, on what he did best – building great palaces that would last for as long as there was life in Ireland. The treasures of the Tuatha Dé Danann would be kept there – those treasures taken from the four magical cities in the north of the world – the sword of Nuadhu, the spear of Lugh, the stone of Fál and his own cauldron, which was never emptied no matter how many were fed. There was no reason why the Dé Danann should ever give up their hold on this green and fertile land.
He continued his song, and did not see the sails that were coming over the horizon from the lands to the east; nor did he hear the calls of the Sons of Míl as they came nearer to the mountainous shores far to the south of Aileach. Despite the enchantments of the Tuatha Dé Danann, who had covered the shores of their island in a magic mist so that no one should find it, a new race had seen the land of Ireland and coveted its beauty. The Daghdha, great as he was, did not foresee that the children of Danu would be banished to the world under the green hills, hidden from human sight. Despite his power and wisdom, he did not hear the song the Sons of Míl sang as their sages landed – a song invoking a power older and greater even than that of the children of Danu. As their small crafts scraped onto the shingle, the Milesians called on the land of Ireland itself – its forests, its rivers, its hills and its lakes, its broad plains and forested glens – to welcome a new tribe to its shores.
