The Faded Map: The Lost Kingdoms of Scotland

by Alistair Moffat

  As a pagan, a worshipper of more than one god, Gwenddolau may have recognised some of the deities such as Belatucadros and Cocidius. Nearby, the other Hadrianic outpost fort in the west at Bewcastle was known as Fanum Cocidi, ‘the Shrine of Cocidius’. The nature of these gods and the details of the ceremonies surrounding their worship were never written down and are lost. But one rider in Gwenddolau’s retinue will have understood for he held a vast store of religious knowledge in a prodigious memory. Myrddin was a druid, perhaps one of the last of his kind, and an aristocrat who wore a gold torc around his neck. All the sources say that he fought at Arderydd.

  When Gwenddolau and his war band passed the old Roman fort in 573, it will still have been impressive. The gateway towers will perhaps have tumbled and, even though there were no large settlements at hand, stone from the ramparts will here and there have been robbed out where it was easy to remove. Few who lived in southern Scotland and northern England could be unaware of Rome, its reach and the stories of its former power. Many saw its relics every day.

  On their way to Arderydd in the summer of 573, another band of warriors remembered the empire when they passed through Hadrian’s Wall, probably through the massive gates of one of the large forts. Roads led to the likes of Birrens or, more likely, Castlesteads, old Camboglanna. At the head of their war bands, where their standards fluttered, rode the kings of Ebrauc. Shadowy figures, they ruled at the place Nennius called Caer Ebrauc, Roman Eboracum, modern York. And they ruled against a background of some splendour. Under York Minster lie the collapsed drums of a massive column. It helped hold up the roof of the basilica of the army headquarters building at the centre of the fort. A vast and impressive complex of buildings, it housed army command north, provided the quarters of several emperors campaigning in Britain and was a centre of power for centuries. The multangular tower at one corner of the fort stills stands close to its original height and the archaeologists who examined the collapsed column have found evidence that the buildings remained ‘standing in good repair’ until the ninth century and probably beyond.

  In 573, more than 150 years after the last legionaries were stationed at York, two native kings and their war band occupied the old principia, its echoing basilica and the galleried courtyard beyond it. Towering like a cathedral, the huge hall had a tribunal at one end, a podium where commanders – and indeed emperors – stood to address officers. There were rows of eight columns on each side and the internal height of the building was more than 23 metres, only seven less than that of York Minster. No other structure remotely like it will have been seen for many miles, perhaps not in all Britain. The York kings borrowed the grandeur of Rome and gained authority thereby.

  Peredur ap Elifer and his brother Gwrgi had ridden out of the principia and taken the roads to the north-west to wage war. They were Christian kings and may have controlled not only Ebrauc but also its hinterland. This was Deifr, ‘the Land of Rivers’, the fertile East Riding of Yorkshire and later the dynamic Anglian kingdom of Deira.

  Conquest rather than conversion is likely to have supplied a motive for the strike across the Pennines and into Cumbria. What mattered to powerful rulers, whether native or Anglo-Saxon, was power. Despite Gildas’ railings, British kings rarely made common cause against the Germanic invaders and, if it suited their purpose, Germanic kings would – and did – make alliances with natives. Not until much later was there any sense of a cultural or racial struggle for Britain between clearly defined enemies. In the ninth century, when the enclave of Wales was all that remained, a prophecy called the Armes Prydein Fawr exhorted the Welsh to ally with the Danes, the Irish and the Scots to drive the Anglo-Saxons back into the sea. There was a deep sense of loss, that Lloegr, the lost lands of England, had been submerged by the Saxons, a people ‘so lacking in lineage’. And the later myth-history of Arthur the king fighting against the tide of barbarism threatening to engulf Britain has added much to that sense of a national war. In reality there was no Britain, only British kingdoms. And they often fought each other. That was why King Peredur and King Gwrgi and their warriors saddled their ponies and rode out of the citadel at York.

  The outcome of the battle they fought at Arderydd is remembered only in the uncertainties and conventions of later bardic poetry, recensions of what was no doubt held in memory after 573. But it is clear that there was a great slaughter – perhaps 300 men died. One was Gwenddolau and it appears that the kings of Ebrauc added Carlisle, another half-ruined Roman city, to their domain. Such was the killing in the fields at Arderydd that Myrddin the druid was driven insane. Having cut down his own Christian nephew in the furious chaos of the fighting Myrddin, covered in his blood, fled into the wastes of the great wood of Celyddon. There, in the hills above the Ettrick, Yarrow and Tweed Valleys, he lived a fugitive life, tormented by his dreams. And he kept his weapons by him:

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  The Thirteen Treasures of Britain

  The very early Welsh epic, Preiddeu Annwfn (The Spoils of Annwfn), was composed some time before the ninth century, possibly as early as the seventh century. It tells the story of a raid to the Otherworld led by the hero, Arthur, to steal a magic cauldron. This features in a list of the Thirteen Treasures of Britain gathered by Myrddin or Merlin and kept safe on the island of Bardsey off the Welsh coast. It is not a list of obvious treasures, gemstones, silver and gold, but a collection of everyday objects with magical properties. The Thirteen Treasures appear in many Arthurian myths and what is striking are the clear northern origins of several:

  1. Dyrnwyn (‘White Hilt’) – the sword of Rhydderch Hael, king of Strathclyde, which burst into flame when one of the Well-Born drew it.

  2. The Basket of Gwyddno Garanhir (Gwyddno with the Crane’s Legs) – if food for one man was put in the basket, food for a hundred could be taken out.

  3. The Horn of Bran, the Miser from the North – whatever drink most desired would be provided.

  4. The Chariot of Morgan the Wealthy – the driver had only to think of where he wanted to go and the chariot would take him there speedily.

  5. The Halter of Clydno Eiddyn (Clydno of Edinburgh) – if a sleeper tied it to the end of his bed, he would awake to find the horse he most desired in the halter.

  6. The Knife of Llawfodedd the Rider – it could serve twenty-four men at one sitting.

  7. The Cauldron of Diwrnach the Giant – if you placed meat in it to boil for a coward, it would never boil but, if you put meat for a brave man in it, the meat would boil quickly.

  8. The Whetstone of Tydwal Tudglyd – if a brave man sharpened his sword on it, then the next stroke of his blade would kill a man but, if a coward did so, his opponent would not suffer harm. (Tydwal appears in the Alt Clut genealogies.)

  9. The Coat of Padarn Red-Coat – if one of the Well-Born put it on, it would fit him but, if a common man did so, it would not fit. (This is a tantalising reference to one of Theodosius’ prefects, Paternus Pesrut, who was set in authority over the southern Gododdin after the Barbarian Conspiracy in 367.)

  10–11. The Vat and Dish of Rhygenydd the Cleric – these provided the food and drink most wished for.

  12. The Chessboard of Gwenddolau ap Ceidio – the pieces played by themselves and they were made of silver and the board of gold. (Another historical figure – the loser at the Battle of Arderydd.)

  13. The Mantle of Arthur in Cornwall – whoever wore it was invisible but the wearer could see everyone.

  * * *

  I slept alone in the Woods of Celyddon

  Shield on shoulder, sword on thigh.

  Most of all the old druid feared the vengeance of the king of Strathclyde, Rhydderch Hael. He had married Myrddin’s sister and it was their son who was killed at Arderydd. Amongst the bardic devices and repetitions, these bleak stories contain glimpses of real historical personalities and they also follow traditions which were genuinely old – much older than the period when they were written down. It may well be that Myrddin, redrawn as Merlin in the twel
fth century by Geoffrey of Monmouth and later united with King Arthur, was indeed one of the last of the druids and a scion of one of the few native courts to cling to paganism.

  Peredur and Gwrgi’s gore-spattered triumph at Arderydd was short-lived. In battle with the Bernicians, whose territory lay to the north of Ebrauc and Deifr, they were defeated and killed. Much weakened, their kingdom began to fray at the edges. A year after the brothers’ death, Aella led his Angles in victory. Deifr fell under his control and became Deira. In 616 or 617, Aella’s son, Edwin, took the citadel at York and the native kingdom of Ebrauc disappeared into the mists of history as the great basilica became the focus of a new royal power.

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  King Arthur in Merrie Carlisle

  Cornwall, the West Country, South Cadbury and Glastonbury are the locations most closely linked with the legends of the mighty King Arthur but this was not always so. As the romance began to swirl after the publication of The History of the Kings of Britain (which distilled much of the existing myth-history about Arthur) in the twelfth century, many writers chose an entirely different location. Throughout Europe and Britain Carlisle became famous as the home of Arthur, of Camelot. Sir Thomas Malory’s Le Morte D’Arthur used Carlisle for many well-known episodes – Lancelot fighting his way out of Guinevere’s bedchamber, his rescue of the queen from the stake and the ultimate reconciliation of Arthur and the errant Guinevere. Carlisle is also the surprising setting for many of the great French Arthurian romances. Why? Was there a shred of real history still attached to the tales of chivalry, round tables and damsels? Did some memory of Arthur as a northern figure in the Dark Ages still linger? Perhaps.

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  The expansion and successes of the new Angle kingdoms of the east were answered by the emergence of a new name in the west – a king whose mystery and glory would outlive him in the praise poems of his bards. Urien, king of Rheged, turned out to be the eventual beneficiary of the slaughter at Arderydd. His name is derived from urbgen which means ‘born in the city’, almost certainly Carlisle. The old Roman city was the focus and hinge of Rheged, its walls, streets and civic buildings conferring the same sort of borrowed authority once enjoyed by the York kings. Hailed as Lord of Luguvalium, Master of the Forest of Luel and Lord of the Cultivated Plain, all references to Carlisle and its hinterland, Urien also established himself over a much wider territory.

  Archaeologists have found evidence of late sixth-century occupation at three royal fortresses in Galloway – at Trusty’s Hill near Gatehouse of Fleet, Tynron Doon in Dumfriesshire and Mote of Mark near Rockcliffe. All the sites show traces of trade with the Mediterranean in luxury goods, the sort of thing needed by powerful men to use as gifts to back their authority and to create the sense of conspicuous wealth, of continuing success. Although Rheged certainly developed out of the western territories of the Novantae, no bard mentioned Rerigonium, ‘the Very Royal Place’, Cairnryan or any fortress in that part of the kingdom, aside from whatever citadel gave Dunragit its name. All of which points to a ruler with his roots and base in Carlisle. With those of the Novantae, the lands of the Anavionenses and the Carvetii formed the three major regions of Rheged.

  Amidst all the uncertainties and assumptions there is an unmistakable atmosphere of real power and a hunger for glory swirling around the mighty figure of Urien. No other native king of his era, or for many generations to come, could match his fame. Not only did he sit in high authority in the halls of Carlisle, he was a Christian king, one of Y Bedydd, ‘the Baptised’. But he was also a Celtic warlord who rewarded his teulu with gifts of horses, gold, precious objects, weapons, armour, privileges. Like all great men, Urien needed others to record his deeds and broadcast his fame and, through their words, preserve it for posterity. He was fortunate to hear Taliesin, one of the greatest of bards to sing in Welsh, compose poetry to immortalise him:

  Urien of Echwyd, most liberal of Christian men,

  Much do you give to men in this world,

  As you gather, so you dispense,

  Happy the Christian bards, so long as you live,

  Sovereign supreme, ruler all highest,

  The stranger’s refuge, strong champion in battle,

  This the English know when they tell tales.

  Death was theirs, rage and grief are theirs,

  Burnt are their homes, bare are their bodies.

  Till I am old and failing,

  In the grim doom of death,

  I shall have no delight,

  If my lips praise not Urien.

  Although Taliesin paints Urien as the scourge of the English, the great king also campaigned to the north of Rheged, fighting native kings in Manau, Gododdin and Aeron (modern Ayrshire). In the 590s, the war bands of Urien began to confront the other major power in the north, the Bernicians. One of Ida’s successors, Aethelric, was said to have led four expeditions across the Pennines into Rheged and no doubt there were native British warriors at his back. But at a place called Argoed Llwyfein, the Baptised at last defeated the forces of the heathens, ‘the Gentiles’, Y Gynt. Urien fought in the front rank beside his famous son on that glorious morning. Owain ap Urien grew to become as well known as his father in later Old Welsh myth-history.

  As the Saxons in the south and the Angles in the north overran native British kingdoms in the seventh and eighth centuries, bards used their imaginations to hold evil at bay, keep the past alive and encourage belief in a resurgent future. Welsh-speaking kings would rule once more in London and the hated Sais would be expelled. With the Armes Prydein, another messianic tradition took root and grew strong. There would be ‘a Redeemer’, sang the bards – Y Mab Darogan would emerge to lead the Welsh in triumph back into Lloegr and reclaim the lost lands of their forefathers. The Sons of Prophecy would win victory after victory, drive the Sais to the coasts, the cliffs and into the depths of the cleansing sea. For almost a thousand years, people gathered in churchyards and on hillsides to hear prophecy, the tales of the great Welsh heroes and battles of the glorious past and how Y Mab Darogan would return and triumph.

  There were eight Mabyon Darogan, eight sons of Wales and the lost dominions of Old Welsh-speaking kings, who would rise up and lead their people. Owain of Rheged was one and also Hiriell, Cynan, Cadwaladr and Arthur from the mists of post-Roman Britain. Much later Owain Lawgoch, ‘Owain of the Red Hand’, was added. A mercenary captain in the Hundred Years’ War, he seems an unlikely addition to the ancient list. But it seems that he was the last direct male descendant of Llewyllyn the Great, the last Prince of Wales, and he led his men in the service of the French kings and fought against the English. That he was hailed as a Son of Prophesy is thought to have contributed to his death. The English had him assassinated. Owain Glyn Dwr and King Henry Tudor were the last names to be added.

  When Owain and Urien led the charge of the Rheged war bands at Argoed Llwyfein, they drove back and destroyed the armies of an Angle king they called Fflamddwyn. He was Theodoric, another heir of Ida, and his name meant ‘Firebrand’. The battle took place in the Lyvennet Valley in the fells above the Eden, not far from Appleby. It is a windy and lonely place with a few farmhouses and the bleat of ewes on the bleak hillsides. But, in the 590s, a now-invisible Roman road passed through it and was still in use. It connected Ribchester, the Lancashire forts and Chester with Carlisle. Only five miles to the east ran the road which cut through the Pennines from what is now Scotch Corner. Warring armies often clashed near these old arteries and they used them for centuries as the conduits of long-range strikes against enemies.

  After the defeat of Fflamddwyn, Urien was determined to press home an advantage. In an unusually clear passage in the Historia Brittonum, Nennius begins with mention of another scion of Ida’s house:

  Hussa reigned seven years. Four kings fought against him, Urien and Riderch Hen [‘Riderch the old’], and Guallac and Morcant. Theodoric fought bravely against the famous Urien and his sons. During that time, sometimes the enemy, sometimes our count
rymen were victorious, and Urien blockaded them for three days on the island of Metcaud.

  Riderch (or Rhydderch) Hen was also known as Riderch Hael, ‘Riderch the Generous’. He was the Strathclyde king who was much feared by Myrddin and it seems that he rode south with his warriors to join Urien in a grand coalition. Gildas would have approved. Guallac was one of the last native kings to rule in Yorkshire. Elmet, who may have been a remnant of Ebrauc, and Guallac’s son, Ceretic, was toppled when the Angles swept to power in 616 or 617. Guallac’s doomed kingdom has surprisingly survived in modern place-names and his principal fortress may have stood at Barwick-in-Elmet, east of Leeds, where substantial defensive earthworks can still be seen. Morcant, sometimes Morcant Bulc, is the most mysterious of the allied kings – and also potentially the most interesting.