by Hume, M. K.
‘Our enmity has been such a waste, kinsman,’ he said with real regret. ‘You had the pleasure of knowing both my fathers, so there have been times when I would have liked to be your friend. More’s the pity!’
Bran’s hazel eyes suddenly snapped open.
‘So I finally forced you to kneel before me . . . but it isn’t the way I hoped it would be.’ Bran coughed up some small gouts of thick blood which he managed to spit onto the grass, although even these insignificant movements caused him great pain. The dying man’s lips were white and bleeding where he had bitten them; it was plain he had only moments to live.
‘Why was it necessary for us to come to war, Bran? All we’ve achieved by your conflicts is to give more and more land to the invaders. You’ve proved to be more deadly to the British cause than Modred, the Matricide.’
Bran tried to laugh, but any sound came out as a gurgle.
‘You don’t know what it was like to always be overlooked . . . during my youth. You never saw him! Gods, but Artor could blot out the sun! I grew up in his shadow, but I grew smaller and weaker because of him.’ Bran coughed again, but the action caused so much pain he was unable to clear his filling lungs. ‘I wanted him to notice me . . . and to love me, but he never would . . . although I spent my entire youth in his service. Then, when he died, I was passed over . . . for my own son.’
‘I don’t know how to answer you, Bran. I never knew Artor at all, yet you’ve always hated me because I looked like him. He cost you far too much!’
Bran nodded his agreement, almost sane in the extremity of his dying agony.
‘It hurts . . . just to look at you,’ he whispered. ‘He cost me . . . too much.’
‘I forgive you for any sins that have been committed in order to cause me harm, Bran. You can go to the shades in peace, at least from this quarter. I will ensure that your ashes are returned to Ector with your honour intact, for you are the last but one in a great bloodline.’
‘What of . . . of . . . you?’ The king’s eyes were dimming, even as he struggled to stay conscious.
‘Me? I will no longer exist, for I will be known forever as King Ida of Bernicia, the northern land that lies beyond the Wall. History will judge me by the name of a stranger, so it could be argued that you’ve finally become the victor in our conflict.’
But Bran had already fallen into the coma that comes before death, so he never heard Arthur’s lament. His face was a death’s-head and Arthur felt a desire to weep come sweeping over him. This old man, who had caused so much death and destruction, was simply pathetic.
‘Fly high, Bran. But if you don’t reach the abode of heroes, then your grandfather might speak for you at the foot of heaven. Your life has already been a kind of hell, but I’ll not judge you. I haven’t earned the right.’
Behind him, Arthur could hear the Dene warriors killing the last of those Picts who refused to yield, but he lacked the heart to participate in the slaughter. The grass was very peaceful and to sit in the warm sun with Bran seemed to be a fitting task for a family member. Eventually, the old man’s chest ceased to move. A bee came along to explore a late patch of clover and Arthur saw a small black and white butterfly flitting through another stand of gorse bushes. Nature, as always, was the winner on this particular day.
Many men would be burned after this day, and their ashes would be blown away in the sea breeze. But for Arthur, the cries of gulls would speak of the far shores that he would never see again.
He would have sat in his filthy armour beside his kinsman until the night came, but Gareth finally arrived, woke his master from his strange trance and led him back to his duties.
EPILOGUE
THE FIRST WINTERS
Arthur fulfilled his promise to Bran and had him cremated separately from the men under his command. His remains were placed in an urn worthy of the grandson of a great king and Arthur sent the urn, Bran’s armour and his personal possessions back to King Ector in the safe hands of Germanus. Wisely, Ector chose not to ask who Ida was, and how he knew so much about Bran of the Ordovice.
Eoppa and Arthur returned to Segedunum, wagons groaning with plunder. The gates to the north of the fortress were forced open and Arthur knew that no one remained who could stop the inexorable influx of Angle and Dene settlers. Arthur saw the pointlessness of cowering within Segedunum when the whole north offered thousands of sites where he could build a fortress of his own, so he made regular forays into the countryside in company with the settlers who were pouring into this deserted and waiting land.
Eventually, he found a suitable site late in the cruelty of winter when, half-blinded by a snowstorm, he took shelter in a ruined cottage overlooking the sea on a high rocky headland. Protected on three sides by the terrain, it offered all he could desire. And so construction began on the fortress that would become Bamburgh Castle. Here in the north, he would build his court in stone and timber that would last down the centuries.
The fortress rose and rose as his artisans and builders strained at their task until, eventually, he came to its walls with his women, his sons and his bodyguard. Here, the Dene host could settle around him and force the earth to bear.
Yet, on some of the brightest days when the winds were fair and the gulls cried with particular urgency, Bearnoch would find him on his own battlements as he stared seawards with eyes that were wet with loss.
‘Come inside, beloved,’ she would beg him, seeing the dark mood had come upon him. Sometimes, he would let her distract him with talk of his children or the threshing, and sometimes he was beyond her reach – or her love.
Then she would send for Sigrid.
Sigrid understood the loss of Maeve, of Stormbringer and the simple life he had enjoyed as a Dene mercenary. She, too, heard the cry of a sea that was lonely for a lost lover, but when he spoke of the green she-dragon who was calling him to join her in the depths, Sigrid wrapped her long legs around him and trapped him anew in the pale nets of her hair.
Yet Arthur was sure that somewhere, beyond time and space, the she-dragon keened on her couch of bones, while she counted her treasures and hungered for his presence. The sea and the gulls were her voice and he remembered her predictions. He had become the King of Winter, but he was not entirely lost.
His two women kept him sane in their separate ways, as the sea sang to him from his lonely battlements and he waited until the purpose of all suffering was finally revealed to him.
He would wait for a very long time.
AUTHOR’S NOTES
The last two books of the Twilight of the Celts trilogy mark a major departure for me from the accepted stories that make up the Arthuriad. My chief concern over the nine books was to make sense of the chaos of this period and demonstrate how interlocked and interrelated the various races were that would eventually call Great Britain home.
The culture of the Dene warriors was barbaric in many ways, but they were far more cultured than popular opinion believes. Hagar the Horrible has much to answer for, including a helmet with horns that the Dene never wore. Lack of land was always the chief problem for the Danish tribes, as it was for the Angles, Saxons and Jutes. Jutland and its associated islands, including Skania, which was Danish well into the modern era, consisted of so little arable land that expansion was constantly necessary to keep the growing population fed, housed and clothed. Yet only limited numbers of Danes came to Britain until the Viking era, which was several hundred years after my tale, despite the difficulties they experienced during the middle of the sixth century.
What, then, caused the Dene tribe to renounce expansion in the sixth century? The answer seemed very simple to me, as I read between the lines of the few details of this period that we actually know. Justinian’s Disease would, and did, kill vast numbers of people in Europe, just as the Black Death would do in medieval times. So many people died during the passage of these con
tagions that pressures on land usage were significantly lessened for several generations. Men and women do not leave their homes and embark on a migration to other strange lands, such as Newfoundland and Greenland, without a good reason.
Dene interest in the British Isles was cursory until later years, but it did exist in the sixth century. The Dene and the Norwegians were superb sailors and historians have postulated that they developed practical navigational instruments that allowed them to travel over large tracts of water without losing their way. However, such devices are problematic. One detail is certain: the Dene sailors travelled beyond the sight of land, and they were travelling over vast expanses of ocean during the time frame of my story. Settlements in the far north of Britain were feasible, especially around the time when the effects of Justinian’s Disease emptied large sections of the land.
Like all historical matters that occurred during these centuries of turmoil and violence, my proposition for the halt in Dene expansion could easily be incorrect, but one educated guess is as good as another.
I have tried to demonstrate the events occurring throughout Britannia and Europe that led to the demise of the British Celts and forced them to drift into the south-west of their lands. Again, some historians have spoken of the possibility that the Britons of the west suffered more from Justinian’s Disease than the pagans who were domiciled along the east coast. This theory supposes that the Celts traded widely with the Mediterranean lands and other trading nations in southern Europe. The disease would, therefore, have caused greater devastation in the west than among the more insular Saxons, et al., who tended to trade only with the Franks and Saxons of western Europe.
Ida and Eoppa were real people, as are most of the noble characters that inhabit the pages. Hrolf Kraki is lauded in one of the Dene sagas where his propensity towards theft is told in depth, much as I described it. His cousin, Frodhi, also lived and ruled briefly, although details of his death are sketchy and would require validation if used in any historical tome. I enjoyed giving him a particularly gruesome death. Incidentally, I discovered that the venerable Tolkien derived the names of many of his characters (Frodhi, Frodo, etcetera) from the lists of ancient kings who were prominent in Dene history.
The status of women in Dene society was higher than in most other European countries, including Britannia. Women managed the estates and ensured they were running smoothly during those times when the men were at war or a’rovering. Therefore, they were accorded a much higher position in society than in other countries. For example, girls had their own names and a surname (e.g. Frith Eriksdottar), although it is notable that spellings of names differed according to the source material. A woman might achieve fame as the daughter of a man, but at least she had a name in her own right, a rarity in many European societies. As a point of interest, the remains of one ancient ship found buried in Norway is actually the grave of a woman.
Slavery was also a feature of Dene society, although it was not as brutal as in other parts of Europe. As the average Dene was both a farmer and a sailor/warrior, his lands always needed workers, positions that were filled by slaves taken in battles. These men and women could be set free and absorbed into Dene society.
I have tried to include many of the interesting details that we now know about Dene society, although more and more information is slowly being learned about this tribe and its unusual customs. Any errors that have been made through the scarcity of research material are my own fault entirely and I apologise in advance for those or for any omissions. However, I hope you come to share my admiration for a very unusual people who had a huge effect on Europe and Britain during the seventh, eighth and ninth centuries.
As for my Arthur, I haven’t attempted to make him anything like King Artor, his father. Arthur’s childhood was quite different from that of his sire and his needs and desires were quite separate as well.
To accept a name change from Arthur to Ida would be unthinkable for my version of the High King, King Artor, but his son used the losses inflicted on King Eoppa to power his ambitions and secure the future of his followers who came to Britain from the Dene Mark. It is worthy of note that it was quite possible for a charismatic leader to acquire a large group of followers and warriors for whom he would become responsible. In their search for new lands, these followers would go to places selected by their leader, including distant countries. This can be seen in the migrations of Saxons, Jutes and Angles during the fifth and subsequent centuries. Mention is made of Scandinavian migration among the Rus in Russia and other places along the trade routes through to Constantinople.
Among other migrations, the Dene would colonise Normandy (North-man-land), Iceland, Greenland, Newfoundland, Dublin and the Scottish islands, to name a few. Even present-day York (Jorvik) still bears the marks left by Viking migration. To forget the importance of the Norwegians and the Dene in the development of Britain is to deny one of the major influences on the development of British culture.
My Arthur is a man who does his best with what he has at hand. He lacks his birth-father’s vision and his foster-father’s strength of character, but he consistently does his best to be a decent man. I can imagine how he would have hated the weight of his responsibilities, but the world of the sixth century was a violent and cruel time in which to live. To survive, he was forced to make certain moral concessions which must have caused him pain.
I couldn’t resist the impulse to give King Artor’s bastard child a glorious future as King Ida of Bernicia, the kingdom he created by force of arms. He is reputed to have sired twelve sons and built the remarkable fortress called Bamburgh Castle. His grandson combined Bernicia and Deira to create the powerful kingdom of Northumbria which would exercise enormous power over Great Britain for hundreds of years.
So many powerful men would go on to claim Ida as an ancestor, and Ida’s kingdom, which would always have a significant Scandinavian influence, would never be defeated by the native Britons. Ida would defeat them in battle, again and again, until his eventual death. As an interesting aside, the creation of Lindisfarne Island, the prominent religious centre, is credited by some sources to Ida, who is reputed to have established the island settlement.
And so Ida lives on.
I’ve finally finished what I initially set out to do. I wanted to put all the legends together to create a seamless pseudo-history on the Arthuriad that stretched from the birth of Myrddion Emrys (or Merlin) to the post-Arthurian period that tells us what happened to the Celts after the death of Arthur, the High King.
The ad hoc nature of the legends and the myths always irritated me because many of them were set in the wrong time periods and the antagonists such as the Angles, Saxons and Jutes never figured in the tales. I hope I’ve made sense of these anomalies, at the very least, even as I’ve had to meddle with fictional aspects of the legends at times.
It is worth mentioning that the Scots speak of their own versions of the Arthurian legends and refer to sites such as those discussed in my version of King Artor’s bastard son in Bernicia. Many notable experts speak of possible confusions between the Dux Bellorum and a later prince, just like the earlier confusions that existed between Ambrosius and King Arthur in the south of Britannia. In part, my story addresses some of these conclusions.
I have tried to explain many of the inconsistencies within the legends. In doing so, I hope I’ve prompted you to think about an ugly time in British history which is largely ignored, yet it’s one which served to shape the emerging character of the British Isles and its peoples.
With the destruction of the scrolls and those manuscripts that had been stored in churches and official buildings in the Celtic towns, there are only small fragments of the legends in existence in written form. In the end, we will never know for sure what happened during that wonderful period that existed fifteen centuries ago. The Saxons, et al., were the successful invaders who destroyed many of the histories and sc
rolls that rested in the churches and they replaced much of the data with their own version of the facts.
The victor always writes the histories, and that reality is a good enough reason for us to take many ancient facts with a pinch of salt. However, we do know that a Dux Bellorum lived, and this incredible man stopped the Saxon menace for some fifty years. And so the legends of King Arthur came into existence.
The High King is the best example of our need for a perfect role model so, if he was invented, he still represents a time when a Dux Bellorum lived who taught the British people how to respond to violent invasions, hopelessness and struggle. The legends of Arthur are now the Matter of Britain and such a great role model can never really die.
He has truly become the Once and Future King.
M. K. Hume
January 2015
GLOSSARY OF PLACE NAMES
Arden (Forest of Arden) Warwickshire, England
Bramburgh Din Guardi, Capital of ancient Northumbria, England
Brandenburg Ancient town in Germany
Bremenium Rochester, Northumbria, England
Caer Gai Llanuwchllyn, Gwynedd, Wales
Calleva Atrebatum Silchester, Hampshire, England
Calmar Port in Smaland, Sweden
Cataractonium Catterick, Yorkshire, England
Cimbric Peninsula Jutland
Cymru The Celtic name for Wales
Daneverke Ancient earthworks/fortifications near Schleswig, Denmark
Dean (Forest of Dene) Gloucestershire, England
Fulda Ancient town in Germany
Gesoriacum City in France
Gotland Land of the Geat
Halland Province in Sweden
Halle Ancient town in Germany
Heorot Hall of the Danish King