Tuesday, September 15, 2020

Fidchell / Gwyddbwyll - hnefatafl, or ???

Do a google search for 'fidchell set' or 'gwyddbwyll set', and you'll get plenty of images like the one below: clearly a member of the hnefatafl family.


But were fidchell and gwyddbwyll really hnefatafl? The words 'fidchell' and 'gwyddbwyll' are frequently mentioned in, respectively, old Irish and Welsh sagas and myths. The two words have the same root, basically meaning something along the lines of 'wooden wisdom'. What is clear is that they refer to a board game, one with high standing in Irish/Welsh society. What is far from clear, however, is what that board game actually was ... 

It is not my intention to list here what little evidence can be squeezed from the old texts; that job has already been thoroughly done by Jonathon George in his book on hnefatafl.


Bottom line is that there isn't much solid evidence, and what little evidence there is is often ambiguous and contradictory. So that leaves plenty of room for speculating, leaving, as I see it, three possibilities as to the identity of fidchell/gwyddbwyll:

1 - Hnefatafl. This appears the most commonly-accepted hypothesis when you surf the internet for 'fidchell' or 'gwyddbwyll'. According to this hypothesis, the game is thought to be a Celtic variant of the Viking hnefatafl game, either identical to it, or only differing from it in minor ways. The commercial Gwezboell set in my collection was created based on this hypothesis.

2 - Ludus Latrunculorum. The Roman game ludus latrunculorum is known to have been a strategic board game for two players, each having the same number of pieces. Capture was by custodianship (as in hnefatafl). Board size (and so presumably numbers of pieces) varied, as shown by the many archaeological finds associated to the game.


Some sources suggest that each player had a single special 'dux' piece, which had additional powers of capture and/or movement.


The Romans most definitely spread their game throughout their empire, as evidenced by archaeological finds across Europe, including the British Isles, and it is generally accepted that hnefatafl evolved from ludus latrunculorum.

3 - Something entirely different altogether. Although there is no literary or archaeological evidence to suggest it, the lack of solid evidence for either of the two hypotheses above means that it can't be ruled out that fidchell/gwyddbwyll was neither hnefatafl nor ludus latrunculorum. This is the approach taken by Nigel Suckling in his reconstruction of fidchell. He came up with very imaginative way of creating a strategic board game that fits with what little evidence there is, and at the same time is very different from both hnefatafl and ludus latrunculorum. Pity there isn't any actual evidence to support this being fidchell!



So we have three seemingly mutually exclusive hypotheses as to the identity of fidchell/gwyddbwyll. Or do we? What follows are my own thoughts on the issue ...

The modern Irish and Welsh words for chess are 'ficheall' and 'gwyddbwyll', respectively. What is certain is that the board game mentioned repeatedly in the Irish and Welsh stories cannot be chess, as chess didn't reach the British Isles until centuries after the time during which the stories originated. So that means the words fidchell/gwyddbwyll jumped from one game to another ... What if that jumping happened not just once, but twice? What if fidchell/gwyddbwyll was first used for ludus latrunculorum and later for hnefatafl? That would explain some of the conflicting evidence from the stories: in some stories, the game referred to is essentially ludus latrunculorum, in others it is essentially hnefatafl. And, as we can't rule out a game completely different from either, the words could have jumped three times. 

As we're firmly in speculation mode, allow me to speculate a bit more, on an aspect of the origin of hnefatafl ...

As I mentioned above, it is generally accepted that hnefatafl evolved from ludus latrunculorum. But how did a symmetrical game with armies lined up facing each other evolve into an asymmetrical game with one army surrounding the other? 

A very different, and much simpler board game was known across Europe since ancient times, and that's a game belonging to the 'Fox-and-Geese' family. Members of this family are known from around the world, differing in the size and shape of the board, the number of pieces, and the words used to refer to the pieces. But they all have in common that they're asymmetrical games, with a single piece (or sometimes a pair of pieces) pitted against a much larger group. The aim for the larger group is to hem in the singleton; the aim for the singleton is to capture as many pieces from the larger group as possible.


So, speculating away, could it be that someone, back in the mists of time, came with the idea of incorporating the asymmetry of fox-and-geese into ludus latrunculorum, thereby creating a new family of games we now refer to as hnefatafl? We'll probably never know, and part of me secretly hopes we'll indeed never find out ... speculating is fun, and maybe some things should remain mysteries ...


Tuesday, September 1, 2020

Brandubh

When it comes to archaeological finds of hnefatafl games, the Ballinderry board is among the most spectaular. Found in a bog in Ireland in the 1930s, it is thought to be at least 1000 years old, and is fantastically preserved.


The board shows a 7 x 7 grid of holes, with the central and corner holes highlighted. Does remind you of hnefatafl, doesn't it? And if you then think of the game of brandubh, mentioned in the Irish myths and sagas as being played with a king and four men against eight .... you do the maths!

I wanted to make myself a brandubh set, inspired by the Ballinderry board. So with holes as playing fields. We have no idea what the pieces used for the Ballinderry board looked like, but they must been, or have had, pegs, to fit in the holes. With that in mind, I came upon the idea of using pieces of carbon tubes and fibreglass rods, and adorning these with feathers: pigeon, crow and pheasant feathers to be precise.












For the board, I took a square of relatively rough plywood, and drilled 49 holes in it. As 'brandubh' means 'black raven' I painted the silhouette of a raven on the board.




I really wanted the board to look rustic, so finished it with discs sawn from tree branches. Besides the raven silhouette, nothing was painted, just plain wood, with most of the bark still present on the discs. 


Really pleased with it! And adding the pieces to the board makes it look like this:


Neat, huh? And the use of crow feathers is an extra nod to the 'black raven' ...