Our understandings of the origins of the chiefs of McLeod are about as well-documented as persons and events of that antiquity can be. Interpretations of Y-chromosome DNA studies of small samplings miscellaneous volunteer MacLeods to the effect that our first chief, Leod, may not have been Norse are, in my opinion, over-interpretations, to say the least (inasmuch as the limited sampling was not of MacLeods who purported to be descendants of the Chiefs).

Leod, our first chief, was (always arguably) grandson of Olaf the Black, last chief of the Norse Kingdom of Man and the Isles, a subordinate kingdom to the King of Norway. The Norse Kingdom of Man and Isles included, primarily, the Isle of Man and the Hebrides. It was headquartered on the Isle of Man. There were periods when this kingdom was pretty much independent, and periods when it was brought closely under the control of the King of Norway. The end of the Norse Kingdom of Man and the Isles came when King Magnus of Norway ceded the Western Isles to Alexander III of Scotland in 1266 in the Treaty of Perth. We have mixed reports on the kingship of Black Olaf, but it cannot be denied that the end of the kingdom was on his watch. Olaf the Black was the son of Olaf the Red, in my opinion one of the shrewdest and most capable of our purported MacLeod forebears. Olaf the Red was known and respected everywhere as a king of good judgment and clear vision, who was a more than competent campaigner on land or sea, but who avoided unnecessary conflict. He maintained his authority, at the same time reinforcing the traditional Viking democracy and avoiding the taint of any hint of despotism. The great half-Celtic, half-Norse conqueror Somerled made peace with Olaf the Red, even marrying the daughter of Olaf the Red, waiting until the death of Olaf to enlarge his own sphere of influence. The “Banner of Red Olaf” mentioned in the poem of Duncan MacIain may have been another banner we know well. We shall return to that. Olaf the Red was the son of Godred Crovan Haroldson, King of Man and the Isles (himself son of Harold the Black, King of Islay) and one Maria Haraldsdotter, daughter of the most successful Viking of all time. I’m speaking of Harald Sigurdson (Harald Hardraade) (Harold The Ruthless) (King Harald III of Norway)(The Thunderbolt of the North).

In the year AD1030, Olaf the Stout (formerly King Olaf II of Norway, and later to be known as St. Olaf) went into battle against the forces of Canute, King of Denmark, who also controlled Norway at the time, in an effort to re-establish himself as king. In the history of Christianity, many have been named saints, not because of their holiness, but because they “Christianized” the populations under their control. Many mass Christianizations were superficial, to say the least. (One might say the same of most contemporary “Christian” populations.) At the side of Olaf the Stout was his fifteen-year-old half-brother Harald (later to be known as Harald Hardraade, Harald the Ruthless, The Thunderbolt of the North, King Harald III of Norway, and other names). Harald had insisted on being allowed to fight as a warrior. Olaf was killed. One of the warriors who cut him down claimed that his own wounds were healed by Olaf’s blood, but that is another story. Such things are said of saints. Harald was seriously wounded.

Not everyone knows this, but in the known (to Europeans) world of 1,000 years ago, there was just as intricate and far-reaching a set of relationships among the royalty, nobility, and powerful of all countries, as existed in the early modern era. A contender for champion of extended relationships was Yaroslav the Wise, Grand Duke of Kiev and Prince of Russia. Olaf the Stout had taken refuge with Yaroslav in Kiev after Olaf was deposed and before he attempted his comeback. The wounded Harald made his way to Kiev, where he was given refuge in the court of Yaroslav. He recovered from his wounds and grew to full manhood there. Herald served Yaroslav well as a leader in military campaign after military campaign. No doubt, Harald had reached manhood and military leadership status when he communicated to Yaroslav that he wished the hand of Princess Ellisef. There are no portraits, of which I know, of Ellisef (or of any of the principals of this story), but you may be sure she was a beauty. In addition, her pedigree through Yaroslav went back to Rurik and the original Swedish rulers of Russia, and to the Emperors of Byzantium. Ellisef’s mother was Princess Ingegard of the then royal family of Sweden (and sister-in-law of the now deceased St. Olaf). No one knows Yaroslav’s exact words to Harald, but probably they were something like, “Harald, my boy, I’m sure you would make a very fine son-in-law, but you don’t have enough (any) gold.”

Harald obtained an appointment as an officer of the Verangian (Viking) Guard of the Byzantine Empire. It might surprise you to know that the Verangians, or Vikings, had frequented that part of the world for a very long time. Vikings were a bit of a pain-in-the-neck to the Byzantines. They were dirty, irreverent, and disrespectful, and they fought among themselves when there was no one else to fight. However, the Verangians owned no property in the Byzantine Empire and had no political agenda. These factors, plus the Vikings’ skills as warriors, their fierceness, and their love of fighting made them much more valuable to the Emperors of Byzantium (in particular, Zoe, Empress of Byzantium, during Harald’s tenure), than local troops. Between what Harald was paid, what he took in booty from the Seljuk Turks, and what he was able (probably) to embezzle, Harald is reputed to have accumulated more gold than any other Viking, before or since. Harald is said to have departed Byzantium without permission, but is said to have been successful in taking with him about half his gold (one of his two shiploads of gold having gotten through before the great chain was raised).

However much gold Harald presented to Yaroslav, it was enough. Ellisef and Harald were married in 1045 C.E. Harald is said, in later life, to have referred to Ellisef (in his own poetry – not your usual Viking stereotype) as his “gold-ringed goddess.” Canute the Great of Denmark had died, and Magnus, son of Olaf, had become king of Norway, uncontested by Harthacanute, son of Canute. Harald, accompanied by Ellisef, returned to Norway, allied himself with Svein, nephew of Canute, to terrorize both Denmark and Norway. He brought sufficient pressure against his nephew Magnus to become co-king with Magnus, assuming the role of king when Magnus died a short time later. Besides Ellisef, perhaps the most important thing brought by Harald from the Middle-East was “Landwaster” – a white battle flag that Harald flew from his masthead. Landwaster may have been a religious relic, perhaps the shirt of a saint. It may have been a gift to Harald. More likely, though, he simply took it.

The uneasy alliance between Harald and Svein broke up when Svein attempted to have Harald assassinated. Harald, more or less successfully, conducted a protracted and very expensive war against Svein and Denmark, with a view toward ruling Denmark also (sort of like the disastrously expensive arms race between the US and the USSR). Harald and Svein eventually called it a draw, and each left the other to his own country.

In 1066 C.E. (a year well-known to all of us for another reason) Harald, in partnership with Tostig, exiled Earl of Northumbria, invaded England, where King Harold Godwinson was in the process of establishing himself as a new ruler. (Tostig was Godwinson’s brother or half-brother.) Godred Crovan, King of Man and the Isles and Harald Hardraade’s son-in-law, was a subordinate commander to Harald. The invasion began at York, and it went well at first. What defeated Tostig and Harald, besides Harold Godwinson and his forces, were the ancient Roman roads from London to York. Godwinson’s rapid forced-march up the Roman road caught Tostig and Harald unprepared. Harald fought exposed at the head of his troops at the Battle of Stamford Bridge, and caught an arrow in the throat. Tostig also died. Godwinson was weakened enough by Harald and Tostig that he lost the kingdom to William of Normandy that same year at Hastings, but that is another story. I should mention, though, that all the leaders in the epic battles of 1066 C.E. in England were Vikings. Harald Hardraade was Norse Viking, as was his son-in-law Godred Crovan. Harald of Wessex was half Danish Viking, as (presumably) was Tostig. William of Normandy was the gggrandson of Rolf the Walker (too big to be carried by a horse), who had been granted a buffer strip on the coast of France by Charles the Simple (the name says it all), to protect France from other Vikings. By William’s time, the Norsemen, or “Normans,” had a large chunk of France (Normandy). William’s Normans were so new at being French that they had only recently adopted the French language.

As I have mentioned, the Norse Kingdom of Man and the Isles was a Viking kingdom loosely subordinate to Norway. The King of Man and the Isles was Godred Crovan, husband of Harald’s daughter, Maria Haraldsdotter, and, therefore, son-in-law to Harald. Godred is understood to have been one of Harald’s commanders in Harald’s invasion of York. It is known that Harald’s battle flag “Landwaster” was not brought ashore from Harald’s flagship, and it is known that Godred Crovan survived and returned to the Isle of Man..

We can only hypothesize that the way “Landwaster” almost certainly became “The Fairy Flag of MacLeod” was as follows:

1. After Harald’s death, the flag was taken back to the Isle of Man by Godred, where it became a treasured item of the Kings of Man and the Isles. Remember “the Banner of Red Olaf?” I think it entirely probable that Landwaster/The Fairy Flag was that banner flown by Olaf the Red, son of Godred Crovan, grandson of Harold the Ruthless, and gggrandfather of Leod.
2. Clan MacLeod became the heir of at least one strand of the Norse Kingdom of Man and the Isles (the MacDonalds, also descendants of Olaf the Red, were heirs to a larger strand of that kingdom). When a trusted retainer of MacLeod, perhaps hundreds of years later, found the flag in its little storage casket in the archives at Dunvegan, he must have asked, “What’s this?” It was obvious that the fragile white flag was a treasured object, so the fairy stories were born. (The fairy story takes two or three forms, but they usually start out, "A handsome young chief of MacLeod..." and go on to describe how the unnamed chief met, courted, and won a beautiful fairy princess, who, for one reason or another, had to return to the land of the fairies. The Fairy Flag was given by her for the protection of Clan MacLeod with the limitation that it could be used three times. Two uses, purportedly, have occurred. It is said, apocryphally, that MacLeod RAF pilots during WWII carried photographs of the Fairy Flag, and that not one was lost.) “The Fairy Flag of MacLeod” (or its fragile remnant) hangs in a glass case in the central room of Dunvegan Castle, still occupied by the Chiefs of MacLeod.

Scientists have determined that the weave and substance of the flag are of Middle-Eastern origin of a thousand years or so ago. Historians surmise that it was once a religious relic, perhaps the shirt of a saint. Purportedly, when a scholar presented the findings to Dame Flora, 28th Chief of MacLeod, she responded that she knew the fairies had presented the flag to Clan MacLeod. The scholar diplomatically answered, “Dame Flora, I bow to your superior knowledge.” (Dame Flora apparently was very aware of the unifying value of a group’s myths.)

Is not this reasonably diligent attempt to sort out the truth of a matter, at least as interesting as a fairy story? The story is no less interesting because of the impossibility ever of knowing the absolute truth or the whole story.

I’d like to make a personal observation here. We, in the 21st Century, in spite of the state of the world, think we know what is good and what is right. I would say that we are still refining those values, and that we have not yet arrived. I say we must judge historical figures by the values of their times, not ours. This is not to speak in favor of moral relativism. I'm sure there are absolutes, but humanity has been working toward a good look at them, and things are not perfectly clear yet. (Witness that there still exists controversy as to whether torture is good or right.)