The Adventures of the Crovan Clan

Ossor Erlendsson Crovan

Duke of Western Isles of Leinster of Ulster of Meath and of Iceland


Ruminations on the early years, 1128 – 1130








Mom helped me find a wife.



She made a big deal about how she was a granddaughter of the King of Denmark and how that was a family we wanted on our side should we ever find ourselves at war with the Ynglings.


She also spent a lot of time describing the incredible sums of gold the Danish King would send us as a bride-price.


Somehow, the fact that she was a vengeful vicious shrew who would spend every day of my life helpfully pointing out every little failing and turning passive-aggressiveness and snide commentary into an art-form, never came up in our discussions.


If she ever dies, and I really, really hope she does, I’m not going to give mom so much input on the next wife.











Sorry, your Majesty, but I just got married and I’ve got to spend some time getting to know her, plus I’m getting ready to make war on the Saracens again, Deus Vult you know, so I really can’t let the troops go right now, thanks for asking though and, you know, good luck and all.











Let me tell you, you learn some dirty, dirty things at Court School.











Here is my first daughter, Gyrid Ossorsdottir. Isn’t she a sweet-heart? I think being a dad is going to be the best part about being an adult!











Here is my second daughter, Snofrid Ossorsdottir. She sleeps about 30 minutes a night. Everytime Snofrid starts crying, Gyrid starts crying.



I have got to get out of this castle before they drive me insane.











Aww gee honey, Snofrid has another ear infection? Look, I’m really sorry I can’t stay home and help you out, but the Pope. You know how he is, if I don’t go…so, I’ll be with the army…send a Herald if you need anything…good luck!











Seriously, he’s like ten feet away, Crusading is sure getting easier these days. Load up the Longships boys, lets kick some Saracen butt!











This was just humiliating. I got so scared when I saw the size of the enemy’s army, I actually pooped my armour. I tried to blame it on Dysentary, but everyone knew that disease left Uliad long ago. I’m just going to keep my visor down the rest of the day and hope everyone who saw it dies in the battle.











Okay, so here we were, our backs against the sea. They had us outnumbered, outflanked, out everything really. We were doomed. Then, all of a sudden, they retreated. I don’t know how or why.



My Bishop says that they must have been scared off by Angels sent from Heaven, which is so awesome. God must really want me to do this!











When everyone hears about the “Miracle of Carrick,” everyone realizes that God is totally involved in this Crusade. A bunch of my petty nobles rounded up their serfs and rushed off to join me and get in on God’s good side!



I say welcome aboard! Jesus loves everyone except the Saracens of Scotland and Snofrid’s ear drums!​

Ossor Erlendsson Crovan

Duke of Western Isles of Leinster of Ulster of Meath and of Iceland


Ruminations on the early years, 1130-1131












Nice try Heathen, but I’m pretty sure God didn’t send his Holy Angels from on high so that I could collect 9 pounds of gold.












Yes, this I think, is what God wanted. I think God also wants the Saracens driven from Strathclyde.



To help morale, I decide to give my soldiers a cool nick-name, kind of like Uncle Aslak’s Swamp Rats.



I’ve decided to go with Holy Rollers, since we are fighting for Jesus and we are on a roll. Reactions were mixed, but I think everyone will get to really like it once they’ve practiced saying it a few times…”Oh No – It’s Duke Ossor and his Holy Rollers! We Saracens are sure doomed now!”


See what I mean – awesome.











This is my son, Torfinn. The messengers tell me he cries a lot just like his sisters.



The Ducal Physicians have decided that Snofrid’s chronic ear infections will require the insertion of tubes.



Apparently tubes are the only way to make sure the leeches get in far enough to suck out the little demons in her ears.



Have I mentioned how much I love Crusading?












Whoo! Another victory for the Holy Rollers! Am I right guys? Guys? Huh. I guess they’re still tuckered out from all the fighting.



They seemed to really like the “Holy Rollers” marching song I had the minstrels write up.













We ruthlessly plunder the Strathclydians, but not for greed. No, this is so they can learn Christian virtues such as poverty, meekness, and turning the other cheek. They may have forgotten these things while under evil Saracen rule.













Please! We won’t be paying any money you charlatan! Ingegerd, God loves us: you just need to pray harder.












You probably didn’t pray hard enough.













Fife falls to the Holy Rollers!



We don’t plunder them because, according to my Bishop, that sends the wrong message and God doesn’t want us to torture, kill and rob innocent Christians who just have the bad luck to live under a heathen lord.



I think, if they really loved Jesus, they would have committed mass suicide rather than serve a Saracen, but whatever, he has been to church school, so I’ll give the bishop a pass on this one.











Today my mom passed away. She instigated my first Crusade, when we sent our armies into Sweden so many years ago. I really get misty eyed when I think back on the old days…good old Uncle Halkjell, that Irish Marshal who stole the county of Angermanland and claimed it as his own…when Grammy blew the entire treasury on knick-knacks.




Hey, wait a minute, you know, when I think on it, I’m pretty sure Uncle Halkjell tried to poison me at that picnic. And I don’t think mom and the Marshal were just napping…



Okay, time to just block all that out…think about the future Ossor, old boy, the Lord has big plans for you.













Look honey, we are absolutely not going to pay this witch to do Satanic magic on you. Just pray harder and Jesus will heal you. Remember, God loves the Crovans, we are his sword, smiting the Saracens and fulfilling his will.​

Ossor Erlendsson Crovan

Duke of Western Isles of Leinster of Ulster of Meath and of Iceland


Ruminations on the early years, 1131-1132




Remember how Ingegerd was really, really sick and I told her to pray harder to God?













Well, God didn’t answer her prayers. However, I suppose it could be said that he did answer mine.












This is my new wife Agnes. I decided to marry again into the Danish Royal family for the contacts. She seems nice enough and she does carry a rather hefty dowry.




Plus, she seems very holy. She insisted that I send both of my daughters off to live in a nunnery, so they can learn all about God, special patron of the Crovans.



I hate that money was a consideration, but these heathens won’t kill themselves and my soldiers needed food, equipment and pay.













The Holy Rollers crushed the Saracens at the "Miracle" of Moray, even though we were really, really outnumbered. With God, a few flights of Angels, and the Holy Rollers on my side, there could have been 60 thousand Saracens rather than a mere 6,000 and I still would have won.













While we are busy ending Saracen rule in Moray, the enemy seized Strathclyde. I’m sure the treacherous Strathclydians helped them. I will avenge their heresy!













Sorry to turn you down again Your Majesty, but see I’m kind of in the middle of a war here, Crusade really, you know trying to knock the minions of Old Scratch out of Scotland. Remember?













Seriously? King Haldor, have you not been listening to my heralds? I’m already at war with the heathens! I don’t really need to go to war with more heathens at the moment, but…*sigh* okay, fine. I’ll declare war on the other giant country in Spain. You’d just better back me up this time.













This is my newest son Valdemar. He sleeps great at night, doesn’t wake anyone in the castle. What a good boy. Not that this matter to me you, know, since I’ve been sleeping in Scottish mud the last couple of years.













The Holy Rollers descended on Strathclyde again, sending Saracens and Strathclydians alike fleeing for the hills. Unfortunately, King Haldor made peace with the Spanish and Scottish Saracens, leaving us no choice but to violate the terms of the peace and cleanse the land with our swords. Interesting that Haldor waited until we were about to cross the Strathclydian border before signing his peace.



I am starting to think the Ynglings are in league with the devil. They spend a lot of time trying to thwart God’s plans!













Strathclyde falls again. We go ahead and plunder them again. This time, they may learn their lesson.













God grants us Argyll as well. If the Lord continues to favor me, there soon won’t be a single heathen in all the isles!






Deus Vult baby!​

Ossor Erlendsson Crovan

Duke of Western Isles of Leinster of Ulster of Meath and of Iceland


Ruminations on the middle years, 1132-1136




I guess after five years of constant fighting, even the Angels are tired of helping.











There is no “Miracle of Carrick.”











The vile Toledoans and I are both exhausted, so we agree on a time out.











Even as the exhausted Holy Rollers return to their homes and what might remain of their farms (and the vile Toledoans turn on Scotland), good old King Haldor demands I raise my tired legions to support him in his major ongoing war with Denmark. I send my men home.











The Ynglings have crossed the Crovans for the last time.



I was sitting in my council of war, we were planning an invasion of Munster for a unified Ireland could only be of greater service to the God in the next crusade, when I received word that Valdemar had just died during his nap.


He was, if you recall, the one child who slept through the night and was a general joy to play with. Often I would have the nannies bring him into my apartments and instruct them to play with him where I could see his delighted smiles. His loss was terrible and the funeral was to be the finest the money-lenders would allow.



My dear son Valdemar had just been laid to rest. The Priest was still offering his eulogy when the herald of King Haldor tramped down the nave and loudly declared that my son’s death was probably a punishment from God for ignoring the orders of the King. He then read out a Royal degree demanding I raise my army and depart for Viken at once.



The herald swung from the castle walls that night.













When King Haldor’s next herald arrived, both to investigate the whereabouts of the last herald and to, once more, demand the Holy Rollers serve the son of Satan, I sent him away with the message that Ossor Erlendsson serves no man on this Earth save the Holy Pope and the warning that one day our paths will cross again and on that day, King Haldor will deeply regret that day.

I wish I had worded that last part better, but I was a bit flustered at the time.


I have placed the invasion of Munster on hold indefinitely, for new plans are turning in my mind.











This is my newest son, Skofte “McLeod” Ossorsson. I named him after the late Earl of Vestisland, Skofte McLeod.











I guess the Pope got wind of my “discussion” with the Norse herald. The Papal Nuncio noted that, as a proper son, and servant, of the church I should let the Pope control the appointment of all my bishops, since that’s his job and all.


The argument made sense and God has always looked out for the Crovans, so I agreed.











This is my son Magnus. It takes a strong and powerful man to live up to such a name. I am sure Magnus, one day, will stand among the greats of the Holy Rollers.











Dear, dear Torfinn. My first-born son. I don’t understand God. I have battled the infidel, even at the cost of my own hopes and dreams. I could have, after all, claimed the Kingship of Ireland rather than spending so many years battling your foes in miserable Scotland. I thought I was fulfilling your will. I thought I knew what you wanted of me.


You know though. There is one enemy of God who I not only have ignored, but have allowed…even helped to flourish. One who has shown disrespect for both you, dear Lord, and those who seek to fulfill your will.


The Kings of Norway.


My mission is clear!



The Holy Rollers are up to strength and rested!





My War Chest is…well…the Moneylenders have offered new lines of credit!






I have chosen a suitable warm up enemy to test out my new commanders and build some esprit de corp.














First Buchen, then Viken.




Prepare to die Haldor, foe of God.​