by Mike Ashley
The table is nevertheless within a reasonable degree of accuracy and provides a life span for Arthur of Gwent of around 610–680, perhaps slightly earlier to accommodate his son and the known longevity of his grandfather. This will seem late for those who have theorised that he is the Arthur of Badon. This Arthur’s primary advocates are Alan Wilson and Baram Blackett and, in Artorius Rex Discovered, they give Arthur’s dates as 503–575, or a floruit of 525–555, a century earlier than the above. I find it difficult to accept such a date if the above pedigree is even approximately accurate. I suspect we may be missing a generation or two, even assuming the lines of succession are correct.
One of the curiosities of this table is that it identifies a person called Medrawd (or Mordred) as a grandson of Caradog, contemporary with Arthur.
In order to set these chronologies against the main powerbase in Wales, it will be useful here to set out the ruling dynasty of Gwynedd, where the chronology is better understood. It will help us understand who else was active at the time of Badon, and during the lifetimes of the other Arthurs so far identified.
Table 3.2 provided dates for Cunedda of 440–470 but, as discussed, he almost certainly belonged to an earlier generation which I have adjusted here. These pedigrees are taken from Harleian MS. 3859; though I have modernised the names where possible for easier understanding. Also, as with Table 3.3, because I am charting brothers and cousins, I have allowed a 40–year floruit, rather than 30, and used an average generation span of 30 years rather than 25–30.
The chronology throws up a few anomalies, especially in the line of Ceredigion. We know that Seisyll conquered parts of Dyfed sometime in the eighth century, probably in 730. To accommodate this I have had to move Seisyll, his father and descendants down by two generations. However, as we have no independent dates to confirm Clydog’s ancestors it is impossible to know when these missing generations occur. Something has to be adrift. There are nine generations from Cunedda to Arthwen, who died in 807. Taking the average 25–30 years per generation, that gives 250 years, which would put Arthwen’s mid-life at around 675, suggesting we are missing four generations. It means we cannot be sure where to place Arthfoddw, which may prove important later.
Table 3.8 The rulers of Gwynedd and other descendants of Cunedda
Table 3.9 The rulers of Powys, Gwrtheyrnion and Brycheiniog
In the house of Gwynedd, we find that around the time of Cadwallon and Cadwaladr, the chronology shifts out of sync, suggesting an earlier date. This may mean that they were descended from the older sons and thus the generation span should be reduced to 20–25 years. However, by the time of Cynan this has righted itself, suggesting that some younger sons must have inherited, perhaps through the deaths of older brothers in conflict.
We know virtually nothing about the rulers of the other three kingdoms to be able to corroborate their dates although the death dates for Idris of Meirionydd and Cadwal of Rhos, taken from the Annals, do fit the pattern. There is a legend about the giant Idris, after whom the mountain Cader Idris is supposed to be named, that says he was killed by Arthur. The ruler Idris was called Idris the Tall, and the date of his death would be roughly contemporary with Arthur of Gwent, or just possibly Arthur of Dyfed.
There are two other major Welsh kingdoms that we have not yet charted and, because they are related, I shall list their rulers together. These were Powys and Brycheiniog. Hemmed between the two was the small but historically significant kingdom of Buellt and Gwrtheyrnion, whose later rulers inherited Glywysing and Brycheiniog.
The pedigrees for Powys are highly corrupted and virtually no two agree. Bartrum has, however, detected a reasonable pattern which may reflect the original. There is still much confusion over the immediate descendants of Vortigern, and, although the general consensus is that Cyngen the Famous was the son of Cadell Gleaming-Hilt, there are sufficient other pedigrees that show an additional generation between them. However, we know that Eiludd survived the Battle of Chester in 615 in which his brother Selyf was killed. It is also fairly certain that Elisedd, whose memory is commemorated in Eliseg’s Pillar, erected by his great-grandson Cyngen, was active in the early 700s.
The table above includes a secondary but otherwise unknown cadet line of Powys, descended from Brittu, variously treated as a son of Vortigern, Cattegirn, or Cadell. I’ve shown him here as Cadell’s brother because otherwise his descendants shift too far out of sync.
The pedigrees of Armorica are also vague and frequently confused with the pedigrees of Dumnonia. Part of the problem is that when the Britons migrated to Armorica in the fifth century, they took local names with them, and two of the principalities of Armorica were called Domnonée and Cornouaille. The latter should not be confused with Cernow, which later became Cornwall, or Cernyw which, as we shall see, was part of Glywysing. Just to add to the confusion, the Welsh name for Armorica was Llydaw, and it seems that name also had its equivalent in southeast Wales, probably on the borders of Brycheiniog and Gwent, and perhaps bordering Ergyng. Caradog Vreichfras was associated with Llydaw, possibly suggesting that he ruled Brittany, but which probably means he ruled territory from Brycheiniog to Ergyng, including Llydaw.
Most of these pedigrees trace their descent from Eudaf Hen. However, unlike the Welsh pedigrees, the Breton and Cornish ones have become greatly corrupted and merged with legend, to the point that the two have become almost indistinguishable. The following presents a reasonable picture whilst recognising the non-historicity of much of it. We shall need to sift through the data very carefully.
Table 3.10 The rulers of Dumnonia and Armorica [Brittany]
Table 3.11 The ancestors of the Saxons
Not all the names in the line of Armorica are related. Cynan’s line was interrupted after Budic when the kingdom was usurped by Canao, whose descendants ruled until Cynan’s line was restored under Alanus (see Chapter 14 for further discussion on the implications of this for the Tristan legend).
The above has covered the Welsh pedigrees, but we also need to consider the early Saxon royal pedigrees, as listed in Nennius and the ASC. The ASC takes its ancestries back to the god Woden, but though we can ignore that, that is not a reason for treating the whole of the ancestries as fabrication. They are equally as reliable or suspect as the British ones. The ASC pedigrees do not always agree with those in Nennius, so where they vary I have noted accordingly. Nennius provides no pedigree for the West Saxons, East Saxons, South Saxons or Lindsey. Indeed the ASC is also silent on the South Saxons, yet their chieftain, Aelle, was regarded by Bede as the first Bretwalda, or overlord of the Saxons. Nennius identifies Soemil as the first to separate Deira from Bernicia, and with his floruit of around 440, he must remain the earliest named Angle in Britain. Nennius also credits Wilhelm as being the first to rule over the East Angles, showing that in those two generations the Angles had moved from being mercenaries and invaders, to settlers with established territories. Icel and Hengist both fall into that same generation, and although logic would suggest that Hengist must have reigned earlier, if he really was the first Saxon to be invited over by Vortigern, the record suggests something different. We will explore this in more detail later.
The purpose of exploring these pedigrees in such detail has been to try and ascertain an approximate chronology as a backcloth against which we can paint in some detail. Now we can start our exploration for Arthur amongst the ancient chronicles.
4
THE CHRONICLERS
1. The early chronicles
Now that we have some idea of who lived when, it would be helpful to explore the few relevant chronicles that exist in relation to Britain to see what they can tell us about what was going on. In order to fix a date for Arthur we need to chart the events leading to Badon.
A good starting place is not in Britain, but in Gaul, with the Gallic Chronicle, one of the few contemporary documents that give us a firm, if contestable, date. We do not know who compiled the Chronicle, but it was a continuation of an earlier chro
nicle established by the scholar Jerome, finished in 378AD. In fact there are two Gallic Chronicles, one of which stops at the year 452, whilst the other continues to 511. The 452 Chronicle was once attributed to Prosper of Aquitaine, who also produced his own continuation of Jerome’s Chronicle, but whoever compiled the 452 Chronicle – and there is a surprising candidate somewhat closer to home whom we shall encounter later – held ecclesiastical views that differed from Prosper’s. Prosper’s work shows him as a supporter of the views of Augustine of Hippo, whilst the Gallic chronicler was sympathetic towards the Pelagians. His Chronicle is important because it was a contemporary record by someone who knew Britain.
The dates within the Gallic Chronicle are not without their problems as the compiler used more than one system. However, the supporters of the Chronicle have, to a large degree, reconciled the dates, especially in the later years, and the two that interest us are accurate to within a year or two.
The Chronicle has two entries relating to Britain in the post-Roman period.
Honorius XVI [410AD]. At this time the strength of the Romans was completely reduced by [a host of enemies] who were gaining strength. The British provinces were devastated by the Saxons. The Vandals and the Alans devastated part of Gaul; what remained the tyrant Constantine occupied. The Sueves occupied the better part of Spain. Finally, Rome itself, the capital of the world, suffered most foully the depredations of the Goths.
Theodosius XVIII [441AD]. The British, who to this time had suffered from various defeats and misfortunes, are reduced to the power of the Saxons [i.e. the Saxons held sway].
The 511 Chronicle records the last event in similar words, though with one interesting addition: “Britannia, lost to the Romans, yields to the power of the Saxons.”
These two entries are of great significance. The first makes clear that the Saxon incursions into Britain were of some strength, sufficient to “devastate” the provinces, though whether it means some or all four (five?) provinces, is not clear. Some authorities have preferred to treat this entry as relating to the year 408, suggesting a build-up of Saxons within Britain and that the lack of help by Rome against the Saxons is what caused the British to eject the Roman administration. It also adds reason to why, around this time, the British were so keen to appoint their own emperor. As the record shows, though, “the tyrant Constantine” (Constantine III) moved away from Britain to occupy Gaul, leaving Britain further bereft of forces.
The second entry is the more remarkable. The wording “yields to the power” implies that by 441, Britain was under the control of the Saxons, an event usually placed in the second half of the century. Likewise, the 511 Chronicle’s phrase “lost to the Romans” implies that it was not until the year 441 that Britain formally passed from Roman control to Saxon. Even though Honorius had apparently told the British to look to their own defences in 410, he had probably not meant to sever Britain from the Empire. For thirty years it remained in limbo.
Another entry of interest appears in the chronicles maintained by Prosper of Aquitaine, which ran parallel to the Gallic Chronicles. Prosper lived throughout this period, about 390–465, and had a keen awareness of events, especially during his role as notary to Pope Leo the Great. He records the following event for the year 429:
Agricola, a Pelagian, the son of the Pelagian bishop Severianus, corrupted the British churches by the insinuation of his doctrine. But at the persuasion of the deacon Palladius, Pope Celestine sent Germanus, bishop of Auxerre, as his representative and, having rejected the heretics, directed the British to the catholic faith.
Prosper is the only source for the date of Germanus’s visit to Britain, placing it right in the middle of that period from the end of Roman administration in 409 to the apparent domination of Britain by the Saxons in 441. Germanus was a native of Auxerre, in north-central Gaul, and came from an aristocratic family. Trained in law, he became a governor of Armorica and was raised to the rank of dux. In 418, he was appointed Bishop of Auxerre.
Constantius of Lyon wrote a “life” of Germanus, Vita Sancti Germani, around the year 480. Although it was written while those who knew Germanus were still alive, the Vita shows little evidence of research. Any factual reliability is buried beneath a welter of hyperbole and hagiophily.
Constantius confirms Germanus’s visit, saying that it had arisen following “a deputation from Britain”. We do not know who in Britain sent the deputation, but it shows that Britain was not isolated, and that there was traffic to and from Gaul, and probably the rest of the Mediterranean world.
Constantius tells us that Germanus, with Bishop Lupus, crossed the Channel during winter. They were beset by a great storm, but through prayer arrived safely in Britain. We do not know where Germanus landed, but it was probably at Richborough in Kent, where there was a strong Christian community. Constantius reveals that they were met by “great crowds” who had come “from many regions”, and that news of their arrival spread far and wide. Eventually the Pelagians, who had gone “into hiding” for fear of Germanus, reappeared, “flaunting their wealth” and prepared for a debate at a “meeting place”. Constantius does not tell us where this was, but as he tells us that soon after the debate Germanus visited the shrine of St Alban, we may presume that they met at the Roman amphitheatre at Verulamium. Verulamium was the third largest town in Britain and remained fully functioning throughout the fifth century.
During the debate, Germanus, through his inspired responses, out-manipulated the Pelagians and received the accolades of the crowds. Constantius goes on to say that a man “of high military rank” gave his young blind daughter to the bishops to heal. Germanus suggested that the tribune take his daughter to the heretics, but the heretics blanched at the idea and begged the bishops to cure the girl, which they did. Germanus and Lupus won the day and “this damnable heresy had been thus stamped out.”
After visiting the shrine, Germanus tripped, injuring his foot, and had to be taken to a house where he was confined to a bed for several days. A fire broke out, burning several houses “roofed with reeds”, and the wind carried the flames towards the house where Germanus lay. Although the flames engulfed the surrounding houses, Germanus’s was spared.
What Constantius tells us next is most revealing:
Meanwhile, the Saxons and the Picts had joined forces to make war upon the Britons. The latter had been compelled to withdraw their forces within their camp and, judging their resources to be utterly unequal to the contest, asked the help of the holy prelates. The latter sent back a promise to come and hastened to follow it.
Constantius does not tell us where this “camp” was situated, but does say that it was during Lent and that upon the arrival of the bishops the soldiers eagerly sought baptism. A small chapel was built out of branches, and Easter was celebrated. In the absence of any other military leader, Germanus offered himself as their general. Constantius continues:
He chose some lightly-armed troops and made a tour of the outworks. In the direction from which the enemy were expected he saw a valley enclosed by steep mountains. Here he stationed an army on a new model, under his own command.
By now the savage host of the enemy was close at hand and Germanus rapidly circulated an order that all should repeat in unison the call he would give as a battle-cry. Then, while the enemy were still secure in the belief that their approach was unexpected, the bishops three times chanted the Alleluia. All, as one man, repeated it and the shout they raised rang through the air and was repeated many times in the confined space between the mountains.
The enemy were panic-stricken, thinking that the surrounding rocks and the very sky itself were falling on them. Such was their terror that no effort of their feet seemed enough to save them. They fled in every direction, throwing away their weapons and thankful if they could save their skins. Many threw themselves into the river, which they had just crossed at their ease, and were drowned in it.
This became known as the Alleluia victory and entered legend. For Consta
ntius, writing fifty or so years later, it would have been a noted event, and therefore it is all the more surprising that he does not say where it took place. Indeed, throughout his biography of Germanus, Constantius’s description of Britain is woefully lacking, suggesting he had not visited Britain himself. There is a site in what was north Powys, called Maesgarmon, just outside Mold in Flintshire, where the River Alun runs through a steep valley. If this was the site then the combined Pict/Saxon army had sailed along the River Dee, suggesting the army may also have included Irish warriors. This area has several Arthurian sites, including Moel Arthur and particularly Moel Fenlli (see Chapter 6).
What is perhaps most surprising about this account is that the British forces had no competent battle leader of their own. Germanus was a dux in his own right and could have been the most senior official at the “camp”, and been offered the command through respect. Or it could have been a purely nominal gesture, with Germanus being the spiritual leader of the troops, whilst the temporal commander is conveniently forgotten. It may even be that this battle had nothing to do with Germanus, who may have become confused with the British holy man Garmon, of whom more later.
We may wonder, though, whether by the year 429 the British troops had become demoralised and lacked training, even though this was not long after Cunedda’s forces had been restationed in North Wales. Gildas has some comments on the state of the British defences, as we shall see in the next chapter.
In summing up the victory Constantius remarks:
Thus this most wealthy island, with the defeat of both its spiritual and its human foes, was rendered secure in every sense.
