The accidental baby – a medieval Irish sex mystery

In medieval Ireland two lesbians conceived a baby and it was a mystery that was eventually solved by a king. But really, this tale needs no intro – have a read and then let’s discuss it.

This version translated by David Greene is a favourite[1]

“There was a fine, firm, righteous, generous princely king ruling over Ireland, Níall Frassach, son of Fergal. Ireland was prosperous during his reign. There was fruit and fatness, corn and milk in his time, and he had everyone settled on his own land. He called a great assembly in Tailtiu once, and had the cream of the men of Ireland around him. Great kings and wide-eyed queens and the chiefs and nobles of the territories were ranged on the stately seats of the assembly. There were boys and jesters and the heroes of the Irish in strong eager bands racing their horses in the assembly.
While they were there, a woman came to the king carrying a boy child, and put him into the king’s arms. “For your kingship and your sovereignty,” said she, “find out for me through your ruler’s truth who the carnal father of the boy is, for I do not know myself. For I swear by your ruler’s truth, and by the King who governs every created thing, that I have not known guilt with a man for many years now.”
The king was silent then. “Have you had playful mating with another woman?” said he, “and do not conceal it if you have.” “I will not conceal it,” said she, “I have.” “It is true,” said the king. “That woman had mated with a man just before, and the semen which he left with her, she put it into your womb in the tumbling, so that it was begotten in your womb. That man is the father of your child, and let it be found out who he is.”

And so it was that two women accidentally had a baby after their ‘playful mating’ (love that term).

I don’t know about you but what jumped out to me when I first read it was this part

“The king was silent then. “Have you had playful mating with another woman?” said he, “and do not conceal it if you have”,

Now this may be because I was raised a Catholic and was schooled in convents, but my shame radar was engaged upon first reading this but now? Well, I think I was mistaken. Is there shame implied in that ‘do not conceal’ imperative from the king? Probably not. Irish medieval society was conservative, so being open about one’s sexual activity in public may have been awkward so here he is commanding her to be as truthful as possible and not to be coy about the circumstances of conception in front of lots of other people. For people to be so explicit and open in front of family and peers would have been excruciating for them so it seems that that’s what the king’s words are referencing. There is no obvious shame attached to the performance of the same-sex act in the versions known to us but, let’s be honest, such activities were likely to have been carried out discreetly and were not talked about in general. That discreet space seems confined to us now, it would limit us but silence and circumspection about sexuality was a place of safety in previous times.

We know that lesbian activity is often hidden in history and this tale by no means fills a gap but it is interesting and says something about same sex practices and attitudes towards them, Because the story has survived in different versions, we can also pick up additional nuggets from those too.

It is contained within two medieval manuscripts, the twelfth-century Book of Leinster and the fifteenth-century Liber Flavus Fergusiorum It also appears in some early modern sources. One version is as an apologue in a late-sixteenth- or early-seventeenth-century Bardic poem attributed to Tuileagna (mac Torna) Ó Maoil Chonaire, and addressed to Sir Nicholas Walsh, Chief Justice of the Common Pleas called “Labhram ar Iongnaibh Éireann” - the poet is praising excellent judgement and the tale was seen as an example of that. It is also found in a later sixteenth century compilation (1577-80) called An Leabhar Eoghanach or ‘The Book of the Descendants of Eoghan’ which is a genealogy of the leaders of the Northern Uí Néill from Eochaidh Muighmheadhóin (+365) until the time of the Aodh ‘The Great’ Ó Néill (+1616). So, there are several versions of this story which all (despite some small differences) convey not only the sheer oddness of the incident of the accidental baby but also the wisdom of the king’s judgment about it. Never forget, this is a story primarily aimed at amplifying and expressing the power and wisdom of a man, King Niall, i.e. what a tremendous king he was to have solved such a weird puzzle. That it’s also about a mystery lesbian birth story is just a bonus for us.

The different versions add detail/interesting spice. For example, in the version found in the Leabhar Eoganach it’s more explicit about why the women had sex[2].

“It was Niall Frasach son of Fergal son of Máel Dúin, high king of Ireland, who made the famous judgement for the woman regarding her child at the fair of Tailtiu, when she said that she did not know who the father of her child was, and she swore that she had no husband and that he (the father?) had not been shown to her in a dream.
Niall asked had another woman lain with her.
'Yes,' said she.
'What did she want with you?'
'Her husband had lain with her,' said she, 'and she was not satisfied by
him and she lay with me to quench her desire.'
'True,' said Niall; 'the semen which her husband left with her, she left
with you, so that that man is the father of your child.'

The married woman was left unsatisfied by heterosexual sex and craved a better finish so went to find it in the bed of another woman.

In all versions the king’s judgment is immediately acknowledged as an act of truth.[3] Meaning that not only is the judgment correct but it empowers and supports Niall as king.

Somewhat surprisingly for readers the immediate acknowledgement of this wisdom came in the form of a priest who fell from the sky.

“In that moment the people attending the fair were shadowed by a dark cloud of demons above them in the air, and one of the demons fell to the ground in Tailtiu in front of the men of Ireland, i.e. the priest of Inisbofin. And he explained that Niall had been sanctified, and
that it was the smoke of that fine judgement which had scattered the demons around him on all sides. And the priest asked Niall to pray on his behalf to deliver him from torment, and Niall did that and it was successful”.

So, the king’s judgment was so correct that it immediately released a sinning priest from the clutches of demons who were tormenting him in the air above.

This story is interesting in so many ways – not only because of what the different versions give us in terms of visuals - having a shrieking priest fall down from the sky in the middle of a fair must have been quite the surprise. But it’s also fascinating in how in the medieval and early modern versions of the tale the sexual activity between the women is not hidden or condemned. The confused mother was open about her sexual activity with another woman and in at least one version the author was keen to stress that it was because intercourse with a man was unsatisfactory. What stands out for me though is that Niall, the king, knew enough to ask the crucial question and come to his famed judgement. As a king who performed acts of truth his knowledge was often supernatural but, in this instance, an understanding of the demands and variability of human sexuality must also have played a part.

Of the various versions we have of the tale, the only one that seems to have edited it is, in fact, a modern one, published in 1938. In that year Tomas O Raghallaigh published a selection of poems entitled Fill agus filidheacht Chonnacht ('The poets and poetry of Connacht'). Which included the poem dedicated to Nicholas Walsh. The bit in the poem that mentions the lesbian sex and fatherless child is taken out. The new, moralising Catholic Irish state was not yet ready for a dose of early modern queerness. Luckily, authors and editors of previous versions were not so constrained.

Notes:

I have provided links in footnotes as I always find that helpful and so hopefully will the reader

Another version of the tale which might interest readers is here Mâirin Ni Dhonnchadha, "Niall Frassach's Act of Truth," in The Field Day Anthology of Irish Writing, Volume IV: Irish Women's Writing and Traditions, ed. Angela Bourke, et al. (Cork: Cork University Press, 2002