Malcolm II, Maldred Mac Crinan, and My Father
An excursion into medieval history and its part in my ancestry.
In the 11th century, what is now Scotland was ruled by a number of leaders who generally passed on their positions of power to their male offspring. These included the kings of Strathclyde, the earls of Bernicia and Northumbria, various Norse-Gael kings, and the kings or earls of Moray. According to Irish annals, however, it was one individual, Máel Coluim mac Cináeda, or Malcolm II, who was ard rí Alban — High King of Scotland (or Alba) — and reigned from 1005–1034 as the only true sovereign of the land.
Malcolm II inherited his claim to the Kingdom of Scotland from his father, King Kenneth II, but would go on to have no sons of his own. Instead, he had (at least) two daughters.
One daughter, Beatrice (or Bethóc ingen Maíl Coluim meic Cináeda), married Crínán of Dunkeld, and gave birth to Donnchadh mac Crìonain, or, simply, Duncan I.
Another daughter, Donada ingen Maíl Coluim meic Cináeda Princess of Scotland, aka Donada, would marry Findláech, Mormaer of Moray and give birth to a boy called Mac Bethad mac Findlaích, more commonly remembered as Macbeth.
An alleged third daughter, Olith (Olith ingen Maíl Coluim meic Cináeda), married Sigurd Hlodvirsson and became the mother of Thorfinn The Mighty, most esteemed of all the earls of Orkney.
Malcolm II died in 1034, seemingly while fighting bandits. If this account is true, it’s sort of amazing in its own right, considering his age at the time would have been roughly 70. His son Duncan — then a relatively young man, according to historians — succeeded him on the throne, being the offspring of Malcolm II’s eldest daughter. He then reigned as the High King of Alba for about five years — mostly uneventfully — and fathered three sons: Malcolm III, Donald III, and Melmare.
Duncan may have ruled for many years more, if he had not led an army into Moray in the year 1040. Although not authenticated, the excursion could have been part of an attempt to avenge his father’s death. Moray is a small province on the northeastern coast of Scotland, and it was here from which the bandits that killed Malcolm II allegedly hailed. Moray was ruled by none other than Duncan’s first cousin, Macbeth, who did not take kindly to Duncan’s aggressive intrusion, and in August of that year, Duncan was killed in battle against Macbeth and his men. This occurred in the area known today as Pitgaveny.
After Duncan’s death, Macbeth assumed the title of King of Alba, apparently unchallenged. This may have happened even if Duncan had died of natural causes at some later date, since Duncan’s sons were too young to rule, and Macbeth had a direct hereditary claim to the throne, being the grandson of Malcolm II, just like Duncan himself.
The only other person who might have challenged Macbeth’s inheritance was Thorfinn The Mighty, Earl of Orkney, who, if he indeed was the son of Malcolm II, would have shared an identical claim to Scottish supremacy as did Duncan and Macbeth. Supporting this possibility is the fact that Thorfinn and Macbeth did go on to battle protractedly over the area of Caithness in a struggle for power that involved sea warfare, assassination, and a plundering march through Scotland by Thorfinn’s army — at least, this is the story according to the Orkneyinga Saga, a narrative history of the Orkney and Shetland islands published in the 15th century. In any case, Macbeth survived and would reign until his death in 1057.
Thorfinn, though, wasn’t the first to stand up to Macbeth as king. In 1045, another of Malcolm II’s descendants laid a claim on the Scottish throne. This was Malcolm III, son of King Duncan, whom Macbeth had killed five years prior. Malcolm III would have been a very young ruler still, but had the support of many Scots, particularly all of Duncan’s surviving family, including Duncan’s father, Crínán, Mormaer of Atholl, and Duncan’s brother, Maldred Mac Crinan, Earl of Dunbar, Lord of Cumbria and Allerdale. A rebel army was raised to take on Macbeth on Malcom III’s behalf, but it would eventually be quelled.
Now, prior to this, Malcolm’s uncle Maldred had spent the years following his brother Duncan’s death holding the title Regent of the Kingdom of Strathclyde (Strathclyde being a large, semi-independent province located in the central and western part of the British isle at the time), probably acting as a placeholder until Malcolm III could ascend. Undoubtedly, Macbeth was aware of this (and all major political ongoings within the Scottish realm), and may have had contingencies in place to prepare for just such an uprising as Malcolm III motivated.
Whether for that reason or just fate, the rebellion was doomed from the start. Crínán and Maldred both died in Dunkeld, fighting against Macbeth’s regiments. Malcolm III would eventually kill Macbeth and take the title High King of Scotland, just as his grandfather had, but not until 12 years later in a battle at Lumphanan. Even then, Malcolm III had to assassinate Macbeth’s stepson Lulach mac Gille Chomghain, who inherited the throne for a brief seven months following his father’s death.
Once Malcolm III did fulfill his claim as ard rí Alban, his lineage — the House of Dunkeld — would go on to rule modern-day Scotland for around 150 years.
Now, recall that Malcolm III’s grandfather was Crínán, Mormaer of Atholl and Abbot of Dunkeld. If you start with that in mind and bear with me through the end, you’ll see why I took an interest in these age-old Scottish shenanigans.
Crínán, Abbot of Dunkeld (975–1045), married Bethóc ingen Maíl Coluim meic Cináeda (984–1045) and had a son,
Maldred Mac Crínán, Lord of Allerdale, (brother of Duncan I, first cousin to Macbeth and Thorfinn)(1010–1035), who married Ealdgyth of Northumbria (1016-?)and had a son,
Maldred fitzMaldred (1041–1084), who married Lady Maldred (?) and had a son,
Uchtred fitzMaldred (1070-?), who married Eģgfrida FitzMaldred (1080–1126) and had a son,
Dolfin fitzUchtred, Lord of Raby (1100–1140), who married Alice Adelicia (1104–1150) and had a son,
Maldred Fitz Dolfin, Lord of Raby (1135–1172), who married Lady Joan de Stuteville (1140–1197) and had a son,
Robert Fitz Maldred 1170–1248), who married Isabel de Neville (1176–1254) and had a son,
Geoffrey de Neville, Baron of Raby (1190–1242), who married Margaret De Monmouth (1204–1247) and had a son,
Robert de Neville, 10th Baron Neville of Raby (1221–1282), who married Ida Isabel Bertram (1229–1315) and had a son,
Robert Neville II (1240–1271), who married Mary FitzRandolph (1244–1320) and had a son,
Sir Ralph Neville, 1st Baron Neville of Raby (1262–1331), who married Euphemia de Clavering, Baroness Neville (1266–1320) and had a son,
Ralph Neville, 2nd Lord of Raby (1291–1367), who married Alice de Audley (1300–1374) and had a son,
Sir John Neville, 3rd Baron Neville of Raby (1328–1388), who married Lady Maud de Percy, Baroness Neville (1335–1379) and had a son,
Sir Ralph Neville, 1st Earl of Westmorland (1363–1425), who married Joan Beaufort, Countess of Westmorland (1364–1396) and had a son,
Edward Neville, 1st Lord Abergavenny (1412–1476), who married Elizabeth Beauchamp, Baroness Bergavenny (1415–1448), and had a son,
Sir George Neville, 4th Baron Bergavenny (1440–1492), who married Margaret Fenn (1444–1485) and had a son,
Sir George Neville, 5th Baron Bergavenny (1469–1535), who married Mary Stafford (1495–1530) and had a daughter,
Catherine Neville (1520–1565), who married Sir John St. Leger (1510–1596) and had a daughter,
Frances St. Leger (1549–1597), who married John Stucley (or Stukely)(1551–1610) and had a daughter,
Mary Stucley (1570–1632), who married Simon Weekes (1560–1626) and had a son,
Francis Weekes (1590–1660), who married Katherine Adams (1590–1668) and had a son,
Abraham Weeks (1630–1691), who married Millicent Ledford (1640–1703) and had a son,
Francis Weeks (1656–1715), who married Elizabeth Hobbs (1662–1745) and had a daughter,
Elizabeth Weeks (1678–1750), who married Henry Goodloe (1675–1748) and had a daughter,
Jane Goodloe (1709–1748), who married John Richard Maudlin (1709–1775) and had a daughter,
Mary Elizabeth Maudlin (1735–1795), who married Christopher B “Kitt” Smith (1730–1804) and had a son,
Zachariah Smith (1772–1878), who married Elizabeth Adams (1776–1860) and had a son,
John Darkins Smith (1798–1878), who married Nancy Rector (1798–1882) and had a daughter,
Mary Caroline Smith (1824–1858), who married Warren Benson Rackley (1821–1871) and had a son,
Thomas Rackley (1850–1955), who married Elizabeth A “Lizann” Harris (1854–1954) and had a son,
Thomas Turpin Rackley (1887–1972), who married Katy Blanche Pauline Seigle (1893–1980) and had a son,
Carl Rackley (1915-?), who married Catherine Bridges (1923–1985) and had a daughter,
Barbara Ann “Granny” Rackley (living and well), who married Frederick Marshall “Daddypa” Turpin (1935–2019) and had a son,
Leslie Jonathan Turpin (alive and well), who married Sharon Laverne Shadle (alive and well) and had a son,
me.
After I had triple-checked the available records (believe me, all the hard work was done by countless others long before I started writing this), my wife exclaimed, half-jokingly, “You have the blood of kings!”
And, well, yes, that may be true (in the poetic sense, of course). But this is just one lineage I can claim, when in fact hundreds of such lineages contributed to my existence. If I have the blood of kings, I undoubtedly also have the blood of sheep-shearers, stonecutters, seafarers, and probably even the odd serial killer.
We do not get to choose who we are. In fact, we get to choose very little in life. But if the inability to control circumstance seems at first glance like a one-way fare to nihilism, it seems on further examination to lend more significance to any decisions we can make.
Author’s note: The most impactful part of this jaunt into the past was not discovering that Malcolm II, King of Alba, is probably my 33rd-great-grandfather. It was adding the characters “(1935–2019)” next to the name of my grandfather, Fred Turpin, just a few paragraphs above. Somehow, typing that out solidified his passing in a new way for me. He was born, and he died. His time is over, and so will ours be. Accomplishments, accolades, struggles and victories summarized by a single hyphen.
But of course, history records everyone’s names now, not just kings and earls and lords and barons, and in that way, we all live on. Deservedly so, I think. Frederick Marshall Turpin was King/Mormaer/Abbot of his own estate, after all — a fair, just, and gracious one, at that. His widow — my Granny, the direct descendant of Scottish kings Kenneth II and Malcolm II — is no less fair, just, or gracious herself. The same could be said for my father, the 32nd-great-grandson of Malcolm II.
Even more to the point, the same — gracious, just, kind, brave, and otherwise worth remembering — can be said of so many, and ancestry has nothing to do with it.
Regarding historical accuracy: tracing lineages is challenging due to both a lack of information in some instances and conflicting information in others. All attempts have been made to ensure a high degree of accuracy in this writing, and to the author’s knowledge, all of the information contained herein is truthful. If you have information that contradicts anything written here, please feel free to send your corrections (along with sources) directly to the author.
