by Mike Ashley
428–440
Build up of Saxons, including arrival of Reinwen who marries Vortigern. Visit of Germanus and Lupus.
440s
Saxon wars. Vortimer deposes Vortigern and drives back Saxons.
449–455
Vortimer killed; Vortigern restored; return of Hengist. Massacre of nobles. Vortigern flees.
455–457
Ambrosius arrives; defeats and kills Vortigern. Made king. Defeats Hengist.
457–460
Rebuilding programme.
Late 460s
Ambrosius killed; Uther quells north. Octa and Eossa imprisoned.
c470
Birth of Arthur.
485–494
Uther poisoned; Arthur crowned. Octa and Eosa escape and are killed. Period of Arthur’s battles.
495–506
Arthur’s peaceful reign and rise of chivalry.
506–515
Arthur’s Gallic campaign, culminating in imperial coronation.
516–520
Arthur’s second Gallic campaign and march on Rome; Mordred’s treachery; Arthur’s return and fall at the battle of Camlann.
523
Death of Arthur in Avalon.
520–532
Reigns of Constantine, Cynan and Vortipor.
This timeline relates only to Geoffrey’s narrative chronology and, of course, takes no account of individuals mentioned who existed at other times. The main difference between this chronology and the previous summary in Table 6.2 is the appearance of Uther. Geoffrey has Ambrosius killed after a short reign, whereas the assumption from the writings of Gildas and Nennius is that Ambrosius was the main British opponent to the Saxons during the 460s and 470s. Geoffrey also gives an earlier death for Hengist – indeed, his date for the death of Octa coincides with the ASC ’s suggested date of 488 for Hengist’s passing.
Whichever way we look at it, albeit from very shaky sources, Arthur’s reign fits into the period 490–520. That does not mean that all of the events attributed to Arthur also have to fit into that period. Geoffrey’s whole story from Vortigern to Arthur is clearly culled from a host of fragments and incidental sources which Geoffrey, in his desire to create a powerful narrative and a propaganda tool, together with his general misunderstanding of events, chose to piece together in a sequence that suited his purpose. In so doing he created the story of Arthur, and whilst we should not immediately dismiss everything that he says, because it does have a frustrating internal logic, neither should we accept anything. We must, however, admire Geoffrey’s skill and imagination in creating a legend that has lasted a thousand years.
6. Conclusion
Geoffrey has clearly used six or seven different narrative sources, which he has interspersed with elements from Gildas, Nennius and the Welsh Annals.
(1)
A chronicle, perhaps from Brittany, which traces the immediate post-Roman period, including the stories of Constantine and Ambrosius.
(2)
A Welsh chronicle (linked with Nennius) for the story of Vortigern.
(3)
A chronicle, also probably Breton, which is the story of Uther. This may be the same as (1).
(4)
A northern chronicle of the sixth or seventh century, which traces the war between the Men of the North and the Saxons in the period 550–600. This may be the same one that Nennius knew and could have been written by Rhun ap Urien.
(5)
Another northern chronicle (or the same as (4)) tracing the Viking invasion of Britain in the eighth and ninth centuries.
(6)
A Gallic or Breton chronicle about the campaigns of Clovis and the Franks.
(7)
A further chronicle, probably Welsh, which traces the battles between Arthur and Mordred.
Any of the above may not necessarily be a single or even a lengthy document. More likely they are fragments, perhaps of poems, annals and folktales. It is evident from the flow of Geoffrey’s narrative that he was joining together accounts which he interpreted as relating to Arthur, but not necessarily the same Arthur. He also developed parallels with the reign of Henry I.
What seems evident from Geoffrey’s account is that, despite his almost seamless narrative, the Arthur who fights the battles in the north is not the same Arthur who fights in Gaul, and neither is necessarily the Arthur who is the son of Uther and who meets his fate at Camlann. This suggests three, possibly four, prototypes for Arthur.
(1)
An Arthur who was descended from the daughter or wife of Emyr Llydaw in Gwent (Llydaw being mistaken for Brittany), who lived in the late fifth century. This could have been the seventh century Arthur of Gwent by name but not necessarily by reputation as Geoffrey makes no reference to the Welsh tradition after Vortigern.
(2)
An Arthur whose name was miscopied from Arddun, the child of Elifer (Eleutherius) of the North, and who lived in the mid sixth century. This name may subsequently have become fused with Elifer’s father Arthwys (Arthur of the Pennines).
(3)
Clovis, the king of the Franks, whose life parallels Arthur’s.
(4)
A later hero who fought the Viking invaders in the eighth and ninth centuries. The obvious contenders for this are Alfred the Great and Athelstan, whose battles against the Vikings have some similarity to Arthur’s.
Since the crucial element is who Geoffrey believed fought at Badon, I suspect he found this in his Northern Chronicle, which he tried to blend with the elements in Nennius and Gildas. If it were ever possible to prove that either Arthwys ap Mar or Elifer fought at Lichfield and Caer Faddon, then we would have found Geoffrey’s Arthur.
10
THE REAL KING ARTHUR – THE TWENTY CLAIMANTS
1. The Ground Rules
We have now covered all of the surviving historical and quasi-historical texts that relate to Arthur. Anything else we discuss in the later chapters is almost wholly drawn from legend, and whilst historical truths may remain deep down, they add nothing new to our understanding of the Arthur of history.
This means that in the last nine chapters we have touched upon the real Arthur – or Arthurs, because I believe it has become very evident that we are not dealing with one individual. The old tales retold by Nennius, those in the Mabinogion, and those by Geoffrey of Monmouth are a potpourri of historical characters, most of whom are known only by name. It was from these stories that the Arthur we have come to know grew in the telling, becoming the Arthur of Thomas Malory, but so far removed from the original as to be scarcely recognisable.
Which, of course, raises the question: will we recognise Arthur when we find him? What are the ground rules by which we can identify him? What key fact allows us to point at a figure in the line-up and say, “That’s him”?
I said at the very start of this book that we have to find the right person in the right place at the right time. All of this exploration through the dim and often very vague pages of lost history has been about teasing out people’s identities, and establishing when and where they lived. We have covered close on a thousand names and whilst this is only a very small fraction of all those living in the fifth and sixth centuries, it is a high proportion of the movers and shakers.
There is really only one criterion. The original Arthur, the one from whom all else flowed, has to be the victor of the first battle of Badon. Although we have not conclusively identified the site of Badon we have, thanks to Gildas, managed to fine-tune the date of Badon to between 493 and 497.
However, there is one strong caveat. Gildas, the one person who could have told us who was the victor at Badon, chose not to. As a consequence, we do not know who the victor was. However, what makes legends grow are not the facts, but what we believe to be the facts. So whilst the victor of Badon is the real origin of the Arthur legend, he does not have to be the original Arthur. Someone else may very rapidly have become associated with Badon so that the legend grew around him.
Thi
s happens quite often. Take, for instance, the Gunpowder Plot. If we were asked to name the chief conspirator, I suspect most of us would immediately name Guy Fawkes. But the mastermind was not Fawkes at all, but Robert Catesby. We know this because the details are fully documented, but that still doesn’t stop us remembering Guy Fawkes above all others and, if it had happened many centuries earlier and all documentation was lost, we’d probably only remember Fawkes.
In the case of Arthur, history has been revised and rewritten so many times that virtually all we are left with is the version people wanted to remember. In that case, identifying the real Arthur may not mean identifying the victor of Badon, but identifying the person everyone thinks was the victor of Badon.
How, you may ask, do we know who they thought was the victor of Badon?
Because they told us. Gildas didn’t directly, but gave us some clues. Nennius told us he was the victor of eleven other battles. The Dream of Rhonabwy tells us his chief counsellor was Caradoc Vreichfras, who is closely associated with Ergyng, and that his bishop was Bedwin, also named in the first of the Triads, which link Arthur, Bedwin and Caradoc with Celliwig in southern Gwent. However, the story places the battle of Caer Faddon in Powys, which though this may not be the original Badon, may be the one they associate with the victor. Geoffrey makes him the son and successor of Uther, the brother of Ambrosius. Uther and Ambrosius were allegedly the children of Constantine of Armorica, but we have surmised that this is not the Armorica known today as Brittany, but Llydaw in Ergyng.
Those are just some of the secondary pointers which help us home in. But let us first examine all of the contenders once again in chronological order to refresh our memories, and see who we can eliminate. The dates given are as per the tables in Chapter 3.
2. The Contenders
1. Lucius Artorius Castus (140–197)
He seems a rank outsider, but there is much about him that may have contributed to the legend. Littleton and Malcor put forward a compelling argument that the Sarmatian folktales of the Iazygian soldiers captured by Castus in Brittany and settled in Ribchester (Bremetennacum) could have contributed to the later Arthurian legend, particularly the story of returning Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake. They propose that Castus’s campaign in the north reflects Nennius’s sequence of battles, though their case for Dumbarton as Badon is perhaps the weakest element. Castus’s exploits in Armorica possibly became associated with the character of Riothamus. Whilst Castus cannot be the original Arthur of Badon, his activities could certainly have encouraged the initial development of the legend.
2. Riothamus (430–500)
The idea that Riothamus might have been Arthur has apparently been around since at least 1175, when a monk at Orcamp Abbey in France made the connection. The current champion of the idea is Geoffrey Ashe in The Discovery of King Arthur. As Riothamus is another of those names that double as titles, and means “over king”, he could as easily be Arthur, based on Ardd-ri, or “High King.” Others have suggested that he was Ambrosius.
Because we have only a brief glimpse of Riothamus, and that entirely in Gaul and, for that matter, as the loser of a battle, not as a victor, he hardly stands out as a hero who would form the basis of legend. Some have equated him to the Breton King lahann Reeth, a name that may have been conflated with the later ruler loanas Riotham. This may in turn be the laen of Caer Dathal whom the Mabinogion states were Arthur’s kin.
The main problem with Riothamus also being Arthur of Badon, however, is one of timing. If Riothamus was Arthur, he would have to have been old enough to command troops in 469, and go on to be victorious at Badon around 493–497, and fight at Camlann in 514–518. His activities in Gaul could certainly have added further fuel to the flames of legend, but he is unlikely to be the victor of Badon.
3. Ambrosius Aurelianus (430–500)
This idea took root because Gildas, who was the first to name the battle of Badon, makes no mention of Arthur at all, but does name Ambrosius as leading the British in the lead-up to the battle. Gildas describes the victories as shifting between the British and the Saxons, “usque ad annum obsessionis badonici montis” or “all the way to the year of the siege of Mount Badon.” It is clear that he was describing a span of some years from when Ambrosius took command to the eventual victory at Badon.
That alone does not rule out Ambrosius being the commander at Badon. The evidence shows that Ambrosius took command a few years after the Saxons had been driven home by Vortimer. Since Vortimer was dead and Vortigern disgraced, there was no other commander in charge until Ambrosius took control. We know that this has to be after 455, probably after 460 (see Table 6.2), but not long after. Ambrosius’s campaign may even have run into the 480s, but to have one commander leading a battle campaign, no matter how intermittent, for thirty years is expecting much. Ambrosius is unlikely to have been born later than 435, which would make him 58 in 493 and nearly 80 at the time of Camlann. Ambrosius could still have been the victor of Badon, but he is unlikely to have been the Arthur of Camlann.
Ambrosius’s dates coincide almost exactly with those of Riothamus, leading many to suggest that they are one and the same. If he had returned to Britain to continue his battles, this might explain why Riothamus is not heard of again in France. Frank D. Reno, in The Historic King Arthur, takes that extra step by making Ambrosius / Riothamus / Arthur all the same person, resulting in a rather aged Arthur. Reno suggests a birth year for Ambrosius of 422 and that Arthur died in 518, making him 96. It is hard to imagine how he could have achieved anything at Camlann, let alone attempt to do battle with Mordred.
The only way that Ambrosius could be Arthur is if Ambrosius’s campaign were shorter than Gildas implies, and therefore all of the preceding dates are shifted. This is a case to be argued, because we have already suggested that the main Saxon invasion, the second or third adventus, was not until the 470s, even the late 470s. We might imagine a campaign running from, say, 477 (Aelle’s arrival) to 493, just sixteen years, which would not contradict Gildas. Still long, but perfectly manageable for one significant Roman. If Ambrosius was in his late twenties at the start of this, he would be 43 at Badon and 64 at Camlann.
However, this causes problems at the start of the fifth century. If Ambrosius was not born until 450, his father by then (if still alive) would have been in his sixties at least and though this is possible, it seems unlikely. This scenario would also rule out any possibility of Ambrosius being Riothamus.
So whilst we cannot rule out Ambrosius as being the victor of Badon, it is not realistic for him to have continued the Golden Age usually attributed to Arthur. Ambrosius must have handed over power to someone, and this leads us to our next contender or contenders.
4. Pascent (430–500)
If Arthur was Ambrosius’s successor, we must consider Pascent, because Nennius tells us (§48) that when Ambrosius became king he installed Vortigern’s eldest surviving son, Pascent or Pasgen, as ruler of the “provinces” of Builth and Gwrtheyrnion.
The use of the word “provinces” is intriguing as it has echoes of the old Roman term for one of the divisions of Britain. One might expect Ambrosius, upon becoming the High King (or, a true Roman, the vicarius), to appoint governors to the former Roman provinces.
If Ambrosius were mounting a retaliatory campaign against the Saxons he would have needed strong, trustworthy provincial governors and a reliable right-hand man. Pascent’s descendants went on to rule Gwrtheyrnion and later Powys, so we must assume that Pascent was a reliable supporter of Ambrosius and not the rebel whom Geoffrey of Monmouth portrays.
So Pascent must be a part of the Arthur story, as he was one of the legitimate “kings” alive at that time. However, he was of the same generation as Ambrosius and would have been too old to fight at Badon, so I do not regard him as a serious candidate for Arthur. He may well have done the solid work of governing Britain while Ambrosius led the battle campaign, but administrators are never remembered.
It is the generati
on after him that is of more interest.
5. Cadell and Riocatus (both 460–530)
Pascent was in all likelihood succeeded by his son Riocatus. Ambrosius himself must have looked for a successor, not in Builth and Gwrtheyrnion where Pascent’s line continued, but in Powys, which had been his central powerbase, governed from Wroxeter. I believe Ambrosius passed the succession on to Cadell (see Table 3.9).
Cadell has his own origin tale, as related by Nennius (see Chapter 6). It’s a standard rags-to-riches folktale which may have some basis in reality. It is possible that, with Vortigern disgraced, Cadell had nothing to inherit and so did live initially as a scullion. He may well have been fostered, as was the Celtic custom, but to a poor family.
Cadell was probably born in the early 450s, and thus may have received Garmon’s blessing around the age of 21 in the early 470s. He could have succeeded Ambrosius in the 480s and still only have been about forty at the time of Badon. His nickname, Durnluc, is usually translated of “gleaming hilt” or “hilt of light”, significant with regard to Arthur’s Excalibur.
The concept of the ruler of Viriconium, the last major city in Britain, wielding a bright sword and living in an area with which all of the battles have been associated, including Badon (at Caer Faddon), is a compelling one. There is certainly a sufficient case for Cadell to be considered as a serious contender as one of the characters behind the historical Arthur.
His cousin Riocatus may be equally significant. We know virtually nothing about him except that in his youth he must have entered the church, as he is referred to as a cleric in a letter by Sidonius to Bishop Faustus, Riocatus’s uncle. Since he seems to have succeeded to the kingship of Gwrtheyrnion, or at least is included amongst the pedigrees of the kings of that land, he evidently did not stay in the church. We don’t know exactly when Riocatus visited Faustus, but it was probably in the 470s when he may have still been a young man. The implications are that he may not have been ruling at the time of Badon, but could have inherited the kingdom soon after.