The Forgotten Kingdom

by Signe Pike

  The Battle of the Caledonian Wood is listed as the one of the Nine Battles of Arthur by Ninnius. For those who want to learn more, Adam Ardrey has written a very intelligent re-creation of it in his book Finding Arthur.

  The Anglo-Saxon Invasion

  The Anglo-Saxon Invasion was actually a series of migrations, battles, and raids that went on for many decades in different parts of Scotland and England. These events took place much later in Scotland than in England, where Romanized towns were conquered earlier and with greater ease. In fact, there is evidence that Clyde Rock was still a Brythonic stronghold well into the eighth century, a date that does not hold with Anglo-Saxon occupation as it is claimed to have occurred in the rest of Britain. In the first two books of my series, we see the beginning of their conquest, one that would push the Britons into the south and west of the British Isles, creating strongholds in Wales, Cornwall, the Isle of Man, and across the channel in Brittany. As the Britons of Yr Hen Ogledd, “the Old North,” were forced from their ancestral lands to find new homes among their distant kin, they took their stories with them. This is how the legend of Arthur and Merlin came to be claimed by southwestern England, Wales, and Brittany.

  Historical Accuracy

  I strive to present an accurate portrayal of sixth-century Scottish life, but the post-Roman and Early Historic periods are among the least archaeologically represented in all of the United Kingdom. While my extrapolations are based on archaeological or anthropological evidence, I am neither an archaeologist nor a historian, so I don’t doubt there will be argument over some of my choices, and I’ve likely made some mistakes.

  In central and southern Scotland, halls were most often built from timber with thatched roofs, which burned easily during raiding and war, or rotted away, leaving little more than postholes. Many Scots lived in huts of wattle and daub that had changed little since the Iron Age and left almost no trace. New structures were built on top of these sites by conquering peoples and subsequent generations, further obscuring any archaeological record. In recent years, archaeologists have created some well-rendered digital reconstructions of sites, and I’ve referred to these whenever I could.

  Iron Age stone brochs had multiple levels, as did Roman buildings built on Scottish soil. We do know from the postholes that hall beams were massive, and I believe such posts could certainly have supported an upper level. Given the lofted roofs of halls, I suspect ladders or stairs might have been used to make the most of space.

  In this book and the last, Partick is a walled city. There’s no evidence of that as of yet, and walled towns were more prevalent in the years that followed. However, when I imagined Languoreth as a girl approaching the town for the very first time in The Lost Queen, the walls were there, brooding, with guards atop, so here I’m guilty of creating a scenario not fully grounded in fact. This is a novel, after all.

  There is written memory of a market or fair in Kenmore at Loch Tay that occurred around July 26 until the beginning of the twentieth century. I’ve shifted it to October to suit my needs.

  Language

  In The Forgotten Kingdom, it’s the Picts who protect their names, but in reality it was likely a convention of Britons and Picts alike. As a culture that lived and remembered via oral tradition, the Britons occupied a world in which the spoken word held tremendous power, and names were sacred. It’s also evident that there were titles as well as more intimate family names, probably used just among kin—for example, Uther Pendragon versus Gwenddolau. In the author’s note for The Lost Queen I talk about the origins of Lailoken’s name and its transformation into Myrddin, pronounced “MEER-thin.”

  The Britons and the Scots were part of a cultural group that spoke similar languages, so, for lack of a better term, we refer to them both as Celtic.

  We don’t know what language the Picts spoke, but the Venerable Bede listed it as distinct from that of the Britons, Scots, or Angles. It is now more commonly thought to have been related to Brythonic. Still, very few Pictish words survive, so I’ve used one wherever I could. Cartait, mentioned in King and Bishop Cormac’s Glossary, which dates from around AD 900, means “pin” or “thorn.”

  I’ve used modern Welsh words (hennain, taid) in places because the Brythonic or Old Welsh versions have been lost, and I wanted to honor the language as I was able. Throughout, I’ve substituted Gaelic words where Brythonic or Old Welsh words are lost or unknown—Cailleach, for example. Thus, the languages in this book are a bit of an artistic re-creation. I apologize to any native speakers for inevitable errors in my re-creation of the linguistic diversity of the time.

  Regarding place names, I tried to balance historic integrity with accessibility for readers. Sometimes I opted for ease of pronunciation: Partick is modern, Pertnech is old. Other times, one word was chosen over another, more accurate word to lend a more relatable sense of atmosphere. Aye, for example, is a form of assent used in Scotland today, possibly originating in the sixteenth century, which makes it technically non-Brythonic, as well as a thousand years too late for use in my book. However, one word for yes in Welsh is ie (pronounced “Ee-ya”). Given that the two languages are related, I felt that aye sufficiently captured the spirit of the expression and how it might have been used.

  Fortingall is modern, while Dùn Déagh is an older name for the modern-day town of Dundee. Today, the Crooked Glen of Stones is called Glen Lyon. Ceann Mòr refers to modern-day Kenmore at the head of Loch Tay.

  Occasionally, I integrate lines of epic poetry directly into dialogue. “When the light of day comes, there shall be prophesy” comes from “Peiryan Vaban” (translated by J. K. Bollard in The Romance of Merlin).

  Angharad

  Triads were used by Celtic storytellers as mnemonic devices. They were effectively groupings of three—the three savage raids, the three bravest men—that served as an index to a collection of stories banked in their memories. Named as one of the “Three Lively Maidens of the Island of Britain” was “Angharad Ton Velen, daughter of Rhydderch Hael.” That Angharad is mentioned in a triad suggests there was once a story about her, but it has been lost. “Ton Velen” translates roughly to “tawny waves.” Historian Tim Clarkson speculated that the poem or tale “may have been composed by a bard at the royal court of Alt Clut, perhaps in the years around 600.” He added, “Traditions of uncertain reliability, preserved at Glasgow Cathedral in the twelfth century, identify Rhydderch Hael’s wife as Languoreth, Queen of Alt Clut. This lady, who may have been a native of the Hamilton area, was presumably Angharad’s mother.”

  Unfortunately, we know next to nothing about her, so aside from her name and relationship to Languoreth, Angharad is largely my invention.

  Myrddin in Exile

  In the little town of Moffat, there exists folk memory that Myrddin took refuge nearby after the Battle of Arderydd. In poems attributed to Myrddin, Rhydderch is mentioned as an adversary trying to hunt Myrddin down and kill him, and Myrddin complains of the hardships of hiding deep in the Caledonian Forest after fleeing from the battle. During his exile, it was said that Myrddin went mad, something we might recognize today as PTSD.

  I believe Nikolai Tolstoy was the first author to place Myrddin’s exile at Hart Fell, located in the Moffat Hills. When I visited the site, I made what could be a remarkable discovery.

  Literal readings of the poems in the Myrddin cycle have led many to believe that Myrddin lived at the spring itself, thigh deep in snow, sheltering beneath an overhang of rock. But in 2017, I visited Hart Fell with Scottish mountaineering guide Glenn Gordon, and I noticed intriguing marks on the Ordinance Survey map. Near the base of Hart Fell were the archaeological remains of a burnt mound, as well as what looks like a raised ditch and possibly hut circles.

  Burnt mounds, or fulachta fiadh, were man-made outdoor pits where heated stones were used for cooking, washing, and, some archaeologists believe, ritual bathing. Water from a burn was diverted and heated with the rocks to boil meat or, if covered with a wicker frame and anima
l skins, make for a wonderful way to bathe and keep warm in cold weather. They originated long before the early medieval period, but some were still in use in Lailoken’s time. As the son of a petty king or chieftain, Lailoken would have been used to the comforts of hall life, a fact he bemoans in the exile corpus. Though there’s no way to know the dates of the site without further investigation, I find it difficult to believe Lailoken would have sheltered under a rock during winter when there might have been a perfectly serviceable settlement at the base of the hill itself. The view from the burnt-mound area is quite good—one could see men approaching from a great distance and retreat up the hillside if needed.

  Historical Sites

  Clyde Rock (also known as Dùn Breatainn, Alt Clut, and Alcluith) is known today as Dumbarton Castle. It boasts the longest recorded history of any Scottish stronghold and is lovingly maintained by Historic Environment Scotland. “The Beak,” where some early medieval buildings might have stood, was leveled in the seventeenth century to house a powder magazine, but fragments of glass and jewelry dating to the sixth and seventh centuries were discovered at a site below.

  To help protect this incredible historic location, rock climbing is prohibited, and any damage to the mount is a criminal offense.

  Any archaeological remains of Cadzow Fortress are likely buried beneath and beside the ruins of a later medieval castle. The grounds have been wonderfully preserved by the people of Chatelherault Country Park in Hamilton, including the woods that Lailoken and Languoreth walked, and you can visit the mysterious Roman earthworks nestled in an ancient stand of oaks.

  The site of the Battle of Arderydd is on private land. What remains is a Norman-era motte-and-bailey fortification built on top of a much older site, dating to the early medieval period or even the Iron Age, but to my knowledge it’s never been excavated.

  You can find the Grey Mare’s Tail waterfall and the Tail Burn Fort outside of Moffat. The Iron Age bank and ditch were built approximately two thousand years ago. Some archaeologists believe it was a purely defensive site, while others argue that it must have possessed some ritual significance. The curse and the Keeper of the Falls are my invention. Wild goats roam the landscape, and it’s stunningly beautiful. If you visit, please keep to the trails, and stay safely away from the mouth of the falls.

  The Caledonian Wood once covered an estimated 1.5 million hectares, or about 3.7 million acres, across the whole of central Scotland. It was home to lynx, wild boar, elk, wolves, bears, and many other animals. The Romanized citizens living below Hadrian’s Wall in the first century AD believed the forest beyond the wall was full of shades (ghosts) and rife with man-eating beasts. As of 2018, the wood is undergoing an estimated £23 million “re-wilding” in order to remove nonnative pine plantations and reforest it with native trees like oak, elm, and Scotch pine.

  At Fortingall you can visit the ancient yew. It’s believed that, prior to the establishment of the monastery, it was a pre-Christian site. My description of the bark does not come from touching the tree, which is prohibited. The residents of Fortingall are grateful for the care and respect of visitors.

  The Picts

  Little is known about the Picts, who, during the sixth century, controlled much of Scotland, from north of the Firth of Forth up to Orkney. They left behind an impressive class of stone carvings, but there are still far more questions than answers when it comes to where they originated, what language they spoke, and what became of them.

  Bridei is a historical Pictish king who warred with Aedan mac Gabrahn, and the chronicler Adomnan mentions his head druid, Briochan. Talorcan is a Pictish name, while Muirenn, Eachna, and Fetla were invented for this book. There is controversy regarding whether the Picts were really tattooed. Given the parallel significance of tattooing in many other cultures, I decided to make use of the concept. I was inspired by Osprey Publishing’s books on the Picts,III and the practice was useful to help the Picts develop a unique identity among other the peoples sharing their great island.

  Religion

  In our modern, technology-obsessed age, it’s difficult to truly imagine the ancient mind. Languoreth and Lailoken lived in a time when curses were thought to have power. The natural world was animate, filled with gods and goddesses and spirits of all sorts. The arrival of Christianity did not alter this. Early saints and Celtic druid priests professed the ability to work miracles with equal facility—Columba and Mungo included. The collection of prayers and charms to cure all sorts of ailments found in Alexander Carmichael’s nineteenth-century Carmina Gadelica is a beautiful testament to the preservation of a very ancient way of thinking and believing, in which the names of goddesses were merely substituted with those of Mary, Jesus, or various saints.

  In the years before Christ, Greek chroniclers exploring the British Isles told tales of men or women who professed to be able to control the weather and predict the future. Of course, the belief in “second sight” is one that transcends culture and dates back indefinitely. In lending Angharad’s character such gifts, I wanted to show second sight in the way the Celts themselves might have experienced it, both for the outsider and for the person who possessed the gift.

  Given that I write about a time that’s so archaeologically elusive, with so slight a body of written texts, I can’t argue that some refer to my novels as fantasy. But I would ask readers to consider this: If a Christian character in a historical novel believes in the power of prayer and imagines they see a result, the work is still deemed historical fiction. If a pre-Christian character does the same, the work is deemed historical fantasy.

  In the years I’ve been writing and researching the Lost Queen Trilogy, new archaeological discoveries have been made. Ronan Toolis and Christopher Bowles published their findings on Trusty’s Hill in Dumfries and Galloway, which they believe could have been the seat of King Urien and his “Lost Dark Age Kingdom” of Rheged. The tenth- or eleventh-century “lost village” of Cadzow was discovered in 2015 beside the busy M74 motorway; and farther north, a handful of new sites have revealed new findings about the enigmatic Picts.

  As new information on the Early Historic period continues to be revealed, I hope for a clearer picture of the rich and varied cultures of the forgotten kingdoms I write about.

  Stories make no promises of truth—yet through the study of folklore, history, archaeology, and anthropology, I’ve come to believe that beneath every legend lies a kernel of truth. And so I’ve followed the trail of Lailoken and Languoreth to reconstruct their paths through the mists of early Scottish history. I’m still traveling that shadowy landscape, searching for the kernels of truth in the stories that remain.

  I. King lists are medieval genealogies preserved through oral tradition before being written down. They admittedly veer into the world of fiction, as later medieval rulers in Wales sought to bolster their pedigrees by attaching themselves to heroes of yr Hen Ogledd, “the Old North.”

  II. The battle of Arderydd was in AD 573. In AD 574 Aedan took the throne of Dalriada. From the chronicles we know Aedan participated in more than one battle against Eoganan in the Argyll area in the year preceding his ascension to the throne.

  III. Pictish Warrior AD 297–841 and Strongholds of the Picts, Osprey Publishing.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Across the pond, I’m grateful to John Hume at Moffat Wigwams, who shares a love of history and inspired me to write about the Ninth Legion. Thanks to the Armstrong family for their time and generosity of spirit. To Teresa Johnston, for her friendship and excellent fact-checking of the flora and fauna in this book, and Glenn Gordon, for his expert guidance and good company. Thanks to James of Mheall Cottage near Dunadd for being a wonderful host in Argyll. On the Isle of Lismore, I’m grateful to Robert Smith and Iris Piers of Explore Lismore, and to Ina MacColl, Barbara McDougall, Jennifer Baker, and all the people at the Lismore Gaelic Heritage Centre for their time and wisdom, and for the use of their wonderful library. You were right: it can’t be done in two days. I hope
to return so I might do your stories justice. Thanks to Caoimhe Ní Ghormáin at the Library of Trinity College Dublin for pointing me in the right direction. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Mr. Alexander McCulloch and his family in Gatehouse of Fleet for their warmth, hospitality, and interest, and for the time Mr. McCulloch took to show me around Trusty’s Hill. I’m not through with Rheged yet! Samantha Cooper, owner of 23 Enigma in Glasgow, shared her wisdom. In Fortingall, I’m grateful to the Fortingall Hotel and the gracious landowner who directed me to the “White Fort.” As always, I’m indebted to the National Museum of Scotland, Historic Scotland, and my friends at Chatelherault Country Park, who I hope haven’t forgotten me. Thank you to Kyle Gray for brunch and good times whenever I visit. And last but never least, thanks to Adam Ardrey, whose nonfiction books Finding Merlin and Finding Arthur are required reading for any who enjoy my novels.

  In the US, I feel so fortunate to be published by VP and executive editor Trish Todd at Atria, who has believed in my writing from word one, and brought these books into being with the magnificence that is her standard. Your wisdom and support make all the difference. Thanks also to senior vice president and publisher Libby McGuire, VP of independent retail sales Wendy Sheanin and the incredible sales team at S&S, Isabel DaSilva in marketing, and my publicist Megan Rudloff. A big thank-you to production editor Benjamin Holmes for his patience and professionalism in pulling everything together, and to David Chesanow, who has ruined me for all other copy editors with his attention to detail and desire for excellence. Thanks to Fiora Elbers-Tibbitts for her grace and kind attention to this book.