a chapter from my unfinished 1991 book, almost published (lol) by Kodansha

KING ARTHUR AS FACT:
Unlocking the Secrets of Riothamus
by Francis DiPietro

Chapter Two:
A Closer Look at the Components of Britain's King

In the year 500, ninety years after Rome had fallen to the Visigoths, a man was born who was closer to the actual time period in which this book places King Arthur (Artorius, as was common Latin) than any other major figure in history. His records are highly regarded and considered accurate by scholars and his stance on truth and principles could have been inspired by the very man which he so artfully neglects to mention in his excellent book, De Excido Britanniae ("On the Ruin of Britain") - Arthur. This great author was known to his contemporaries as Gildas the Wise, but we might know him better as Saint Gildas.

His birthplace was the lower valley of the Clyde, a river which runs through Northern England, not too far from Hadrian's Wall, the defensive shield which the Romans built as protection against the Picts and other possible enemies. It can be fairly said that Gildas was a man often hated by his fellows (Saint Bede called his book sermo flebilis, a pitiful tale), but this hatred stemmed not from any ignorance on Gildas' part, for he was one of the most learned men of the time and there is more truth than fallacy in De Excido. So why did so many people dislike Gildas and his work? Simple. His writings bore too much of the tang of truth, and in those days (as in these days) the truth was not a pleasant bedfellow.

In order to truly understand the underlying theme of his book, we must first explore the inner workings of Gildas himself.

Gildas left his home and travelled south when he was a young man, and according to tradition he studied asceticism at Llanilltud, a school in Wales which was founded by St. Illtud. Early records seem to indicate he was more than a bit of a hermit, but it seems even liklier that the amount of research he did simply didn't leave him with any time for socializing. Gildas was thoroughly familiar with Holy Scripture, and he studied the works of Vergil and St. Ignatious of Antioch. Moreover, he was a man who was driven by the desire to right the wrongs and injustices of his society. Part of this might be attributable to youth, but even as an older man Gildas never gave up this fight (which was, of course, unwinnable).

Gildas seems to have lived on the island of Flat Holm for a while, which is located in the Bristol Channel (or, the Severn River), also in Wales. He spent some time there copying a missal for St. Cadoc, and it is even possible that he wrote De Excido while living alone on Flat Holm.

I believe that the deaf ears of his peers, as well as his own climbing age, caused Gildas to become cynical. What he could not accomplish--the element he could not defeat-- he resigned himself to document, so that future generations might take heed.

Thusly, De Excido was written in or about 540, when more than half of Gildas' life was spent. Its author was a man who understood people of both high and low birth, who was friendly with the "little people" of the Church as well as the bishops and priests who ruled it, and who was acutely affected and deeply disturbed by the evil that men do.

Gildas denounced many things. By analyzing De Excido, I feel that it is best to conclude that he spoke-out most strongly against the following:


1.) The Wickedness of the People
2.) The Corruption of the Priesthood
3.) The Guilt of the Rulers

Of these things, the third is by far the most intriguing; for people have been wicked since time began and priests have proven to be eminently corruptable, but "The Guilt of the Rulers" is something else. It seems almost impossible to believe that today's rulers and politicians could feel any guilt or shame (and this trend holds mostly true for the past 1,400 years), but what could have happened in or before the sixth century that would elicit "guilt" from the rulers? The death of King Arthur perhaps?

Now there's a loaded question.

The very fact that Gildas lightly steps his way around the mentioning of Arthur directly lends creedence to the fact that Arthur really did exist. For example, Gildas might have been wary of extolling the attributes of a warleader who was dead right in front of warleaders who were living and quite capable of snapping his neck, but this seems unlikely. A more reliable theory is one that has been proposed by a Welshman, Caradoc of Llancarfan, in about 1130. This theory states that Gildas had a brother, Hueil, who was beheaded by King Arthur for being a brigand and a rebel. If we accept this as fact, other things fall into place and it becomes easy to understand why Gildas was loath to praise Arthur.

Interestingly enough, Giraldus Cambrensis (1146-1222/3) says Gildas actually did write about Arthur, but he later destroyed his text because of his brother's killing. Things now become a bit more focused, a bit clearer. By leaving Arthur out Gildas did in fact acknowledge his presence, and that is precisely what we needed him to do

But if we look even further into his text, Gildas does make a reference to Arthur, and it is this reference, made only a few decades or less after Arthur's death, that is the first chronicled proof, written by a major scholar of the time, which cites Arthur.

The passage mentions a British leader whom Gildas was quick to rebuke (for killing his brother?). It refers to this leader as Ursus, The Bear. Pay close attention to this name. Likely, it was a nickname, and whom but a warleader would be nicknamed "The Bear"? Even more convincing (are you remembering the name Ursus?; say it, over and over again) is the Celtic form of the name Arthur: Artos. Ursus/Artos is indeed very close. It is my belief that Gildas purposely jumbled the name, turning Artos into "Ursus" (a believable nickname) in order to deny credit where credit was due.

History supports this theory, for Ursus is not the only jumbled name in Gildas' text. He also mentions the Roman General Aetius, whom he misnames "Agitius". Again, the switching of only a couple of letters serves as a mask. This practice can be compared to our modern "...the names have been changed to protect..." except in Gildas' case the line would have finished "...the author".

One last tidbit: if we were to translate the name Artur (Arthur, Artorius, Artor) into Latin, the resulting product would be URSUS horribilis. This is an exact match to Gildas, and by mentioning Ursus in his text, it can be logically assumed that Gildas was really talking about Arthur.

Another interesting branch of the Gildas story can be attributed to Caradoc. It refers to the time period shortly after Arthur put Gildas' brother Hueil to death. Logic and history tell us that his brother's killing put Gildas at odds with Arthur - but not permanently. Caradoc maintains that the two were reconciled. If we are willing to believe all this (and to do so we must disregard the time, which was probably early to mid sixth century) then we are aided by the support of Welsh legend, which seems to agree with Caradoc.

Gildas' location in Britain at this time was most likely Glastonbury. According to Caradoc, who was the author of the Vita Gildae ("Life of St. Gildas", ca. 1140), the King of Somerset, Melwas, kidnapped Arthur's wife "Guennuvar" (Guenevere) and took her to Glastonbury when Gildas was there. Melwas supposedly set up a stronghold near the abbey, but when Arthur came riding in with his troops from Devon and Cornwall, the marshes which then surrounded Glastonbury proved to be unnegotiable for his calvary.

Gildas, now fully reconciled with Arthur, stepped in as mediator, and with the help of the abbot the two kings were able to straighten out their differences and the lady was restored.

Caradoc's documentation is the first known text to associate King Arthur with Glastonbury. The remains of some buildings were excavated on Glastonbury Tor, and they are datable to roughly the same time period all this took place. They certainly do lend credibility to Melwas, and it is possible that they are in fact the remnants of his stronghold, but this as yet awaits to be proven.

Again, this theory does have support. Not only do the aforementioned Welsh legends support it, but it has also been carried over into the realm of romantic fable, with the name of Melwas converted into Meleagant and Sir Lancelot taking over Arthur's role as champion.

Not all such legends are accurate, though. In fact, most so-called "histories" (fables which were written several hundred years after the fifth century) are totally wrong. Geoffrey of Monmouth, a minor cleric and teacher for most of his life, is a prime example of Arthurian blundering and misinformation. Geoffrey wrote his famous book, Historia Regum Britanniae ("History of the Kings of Britain"), in the mid twelfth century. For the most part, Arthurian experts believe this book was not worth the vellum it was written on. However, the book was quite a success for Geoffrey at the time, and since fables tend to grow larger with age, it is necessary for us to explore and tear down this one.

First comes the exploring:

We can only presume that Geoffrey actually was born at Monmouth, which is located in southeast Wales, about twenty miles west of Gloucester. Although he may have been Welsh, Geoffrey certainly was biased toward the Bretons. One excellent reference book, The Arthurian Encyclopedia (Norris J. Lacy, Editor), suggests that Geoffrey's family were one of many Breton households to come across the Channel into Wales in a mass migration after the Norman Conquest in 1066. This theory is most likely true , as we shall see.

During the years 1129 to 1151 Geoffrey lived in Oxford's pre-university setting, which consisted of several small schools. Geoffrey, as I mentioned, acted in the capacity of cleric and probably as teacher. His fabricated "History" was finished by about 1136. It, however, was not the first fanciful tale written by Geoffrey. In the early 1130's he hacked apart some Welsh traditions and turned them into his series of Prophetiae Merlini ("Prophecies of Merlin"), a thoroughly stumbling, bumbling attempt that gives new meaning to the word "obscurity". With no regard for the true Welsh and Celtic traditions (and even less regard for his unfortunate readers), Geoffrey presents a sickeningly plastic version of his anscestors and he even dismembers the real name of Merlin, which is Myrddin. It is a sad fact of history that we have come to accept Geoffrey's misnomer.

On the other hand, it was Geoffrey who supplied the foundation for Arthurian romance, and his works have influenced such authors as Spenser and Shakespeare. Also, because of the patriotism Geoffrey incorporated in his tales, it is easy to understand why they became so popular, first in England but soon after to the rest of the world. But alas, we still must tear him down.

Aside from his obvious one (fabrication), the other fatal flaws which I see in Geoffrey of Monmouth's tales can be surmised as follows:


A.) Geoffrey seems to rely heavily on the work of Bede (673-735), which is odd, for Bede is the very person who called Gildas' work a "pitiful tale", and yet two hundred years after Gildas' excellent text was written Bede sat down and practically copied most of it in his rather unenlightening book, Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis Anglorum ("Ecclesiastical History of the English People"), done in 731. Although those who are unfamiliar with the work of Gildas might argue otherwise, most scholars generally agree that Bede took much from Gildas but added on little. Could Geoffrey have been giving us a hidden clue as to his own veracity when he relied more on the work of the eighth century Bede than the original sixth century Gildas?

Even the titles of the two saints are intriguing. We know that Gildas was called The Wise, but Bede was known as "The Venerable". A look in any dictionary (I used a Webster's) will tell us that 'wise' means "Having great knowledge.. Having awareness of information: knowing". But the definition for venerable' reads "Worthy of respect by reason of age...". Indeed, this seems appropriate, for Bede was 58 years old when he wrote his text and he died less than four years later; but Gildas completed his book when he was only about 40. It seems to me that Gildas earned his title through original ideas whereas Bede did not. Therefor, by using Bede Geoffrey might have been implying (unknowingly, perhaps) that his own "History" did not have great knowledge of anything, but was simply "worthy of respect".

B.) It is believed that Arthur and his men fought twelve important battles during his reign. This is confirmed by Nennius, a ninth century monk in north Wales who wrote a Historia Brittonum ("History of the Britons"). The twelve battles were fought by Arthur, his men, and some petty kings, and they were mostly against the Saxons. It is clear in Nennius' text that Arthur was the leader of these battles (dux bellorum). As is natural, the battles were fought in areas that are not internationally known today. The following is a list of where the twelve battles were fought, according to Nennius and whatever sources he used:


1.) at the mouth of the River Glein
2-5.) by the River Dubglas in the Linnuis district
6.) by the River Bassas
7.) in the Caledonian Wood
8.) at Fort Guinnion
9.) in the City of the Legion
10.) by the River Tribruit
11.) on the "hill that is called Agned"
12.) on Mount Badon

Now let's take a look at some of the places Geoffrey places Arthur:


1.) Lincoln
2.) Winchester
3.) York
4.) etc., etc.

Reads like a travel guide, doesn't it? Clearly, it is a pitiful attempt to make Geoffrey's version of Arthur even more famous and spectacular by placing him in areas that were well-known to the people of Geoffrey's time and are famous today.

C.) Geoffrey lists about 75 rulers of Britain, and almost all of them are figments of his imagination. He only sticks to actual history when he is forced to by irrefutable fact. Let's give him credit, though, because his imagination was quite vivid. In one account he says that his island was originally inhabited by fierce giants that were eventually slayed by a pack of Trojans (pardon the pun) which were led by a fellow named Brutus. Geoffrey goes on to say that the island was then named after its first human leader, Brutus. Hence we have "Britain" (or Brutland, I suppose).

But that's only the tip of the iceberg. Remember how we talked about Geoffrey's family coming across the Channel into Wales along with a host of other Breton households after William the Conqueror's successful invasion in 1066? Good. Now let's take a closer look:

Late in September of 1066, William the Conqueror (Duke of Normandy) landed on the southern shore of Britain at Hastings; a strategic move, considering King Harold II's army was around three hundred miles away and already engaged in combat with Hardraada, the Viking ruler of Norway. Within a fortnight (two weeks) William had erected an impressive fortification, using building techniques that were relatively unknown to the English. When Harold and his army finally did arrive at Hastings, the Conqueror promptly trounced them. Harold was killed, and with the English king dead, William's subsequent victories were so smashing that he became the Norman King of England later that same year.

Naturally, the aftershocks of the Conqueror's actions sent ripples of fear across the country. Not only was his army impressive, but his master builders were able to erect towering stone masses which dwarfed the meager forts of the natives, which were few and far between anyway. Soon the Conqueror had military strongholds all over the country, such as the reconstructed Dover Castle, which was a prime fortification. Over the next twenty years the Conqueror and his lords built over one hundred castles throughout England.

It is easy to understand why countless Breton households chose to migrate across the Channel. Fear was the motivating factor; an immense and almost unreasonable fear of the enemy. With their king gone, it was as if they were ceding their homelands to the Normans. I'm sure that as a young boy Geoffrey heard the phrase "If only King Arthur were here..." quite often. He probably grew up with that phrase ingrained in his mind, and although little is known about Geoffrey's parents, it is reasonable to assume that young Geoffrey lived in an England that was growing desperate for a revitalized King Arthur.

So, as Geoffrey grew older he sought to change and enlarge the grandeur of King Arthur, who was already a folk hero. Again, it must be stressed that Geoffrey did not create King Arthur, he only produced an exaggerated version of him. In fact, Celtic Arthurian literature mentions the king as early as the sixth century, in a line from the Gododdin. It talks about a particular hero who fought bravely, "though he was no Arthur."

As we can see, Arthur's original role was as a warleader whose success in battle won him the kingship; but for Geoffrey this was not nearly enough. Geoffrey had to ridiculously magnify Arthur's greatness, which in turn magnified the greatness of everything surrounding Arthur, especially Britain. This patriotic theme was essential to the writings of Geoffrey, who was seeking to boost the image of his country as well as his own image. Yes, Geoffrey doctored portions of his works in order to please his rulers.

In short, Geoffrey appealed to his country's need for a "Restitutor Orbis", or savior. Although the people were, in actuality, powerless against the Conqueror and his successor William Rufus, Geoffrey was able to give them a trump card. They could always rely on his larger-than-life version of Arthur, and some legends from Brittany, Cornwall and Wales even proposed that Arthur was still alive, laying dormant in some hidden cave, waiting for the need to become great enough for his return.

We shall discuss more of this, which is known as the Cave Legend, later.

Perhaps one of the most interesting geographical links between the three major Arthurian chroniclers we have discussed in this chapter (those being St. Gildas, Geoffrey of Monmouth, and Caradoc of Llancarfan) occurs within one ninety-five square mile area inside southern Wales, which I have named "The Arthurian Triangle" (see fig. 2-1). This long, spear-like triangle connects the birthplaces of Geoffrey and Caradoc, which are less than forty miles apart. The base of the triangle then stretches from Llancarfan about eleven miles out and into the Channel, straight to the island of Flat Holm, where, you will recall, Gildas spent much time writing many things, among them just might be De Excido.

The significance of the Arthurian Triangle is great, for it has long been believed that the major sights which produced Arthurian legend were in the south of England, such as Glastonbury Abbey in Somerset and Tintagel Castle in Cornwall. But the fact is, Glastonbury and Tintagel alone are about one hundred miles away from each other, and if we group them with a third site, such as Cadbury in Devon, then the square mile area inside the perimeter becomes enormous - and that's all on land. Keep in mind that a good portion of the Arthurian Triangle is water, which makes the total land area even smaller, closer together. Plus, you will note by examining the next map, which I call with good reason "The Arthurian Pyramids" (fig. 2-2), that a plethora of sites are within that same region, such as Caerlon, St. Illtud and Malmesbury.

Although these sights do not contain any major ruins (Monmouth has the remains of an earthwork enclosure castle which is datable to William the Conqueror's time), they were once the homes of primary Arthurian sources, and they are very close together. For instance, the distance from Caerlon to St. Illtud is less than twelve miles. This gives arguable claim that Wales is the real home of what society has come to accept as the popular version of Arthur.

Geoffrey's family probably crossed the Channel at what is the present-day location of Littleton-on-Severn, landing on the opposite shore near Chepstow, about two miles away. From there they likely followed the twisting Wye River northward for approximately fifteen miles, finally stopping and resettling in Monmouth (see fig. 2-3). This was an obvious and clearly-defined route for the Breton families who chose to migrate. They crossed at a narrow portion of the Channel, tried to follow a river (whether it be the Wye, the nearby Usk, or something smaller), and then settled as best they could, relatively far away from the invaders. The water to the south and Black Mountains and Brecon Beacons to the north served as natural defensive shields, not only from the Normans but also from the barbaric Picts to the north. Incidentally, there is a prehistoric monument north of the Black Mountains which is named Arthur's Stone.

Caradoc, on the other hand, lived near the open Atlantic, in Llancarfan, about sixty-two miles away from one of his contemporaries, Giraldus Cambrensis, who lived in Manorbrier Castle, which is to the west (see fig. 2-2). Giraldus, or Gerald, was one of the first to express reservations about trusting Geoffrey of Monmouth. Twice in his works, which include De Principis Instructione (ca. 1193) and Speculum Ecclesiae (ca. 1215), Giraldus indicates that Geoffrey's version of history might be a false one.

The actual extent of any relationship there might have been between Caradoc and Giraldus is unclear. We do know that Caradoc was older than Giraldus, and it would be logical to assume that Caradoc's reputation was known, and Giraldus might have tried to seek him out or visit him for advice on at least one occasion, if not several. The trip along the shore was not an extremely long one, even in those times.

Now we can assume that Caradoc influenced at least some of his contemporaries, and if this is so, then it was the beginning of the first trend away from Geoffrey. We already know that Giraldus was skeptical, and just by examining Caradoc's text it can be concluded that he also had some different ideas about King Arthur. The very fact that Caradoc connects Arthur, Gildas and Glastonbury is unique in all of history, and when we couple this with the fact that Caradoc wrote a book all about St. Gildas (who was the one, true source for all of fifth century Britain), it serves to ground at least some of Caradoc's claims in fact. Giraldus lends more fact to Arthur when he recorded the unearthing of Arthur's grave at Glastonbury in 1191, but that's a story for another chapter.

To conclude this chapter, we may say that the components of Britain's king are vast and ancient. The seeker of truth will encounter decoys in all directions but one. To find the truth, we must bore directly past some of our own visions and beliefs. We must suspend the heavy net of illusion which society has trapped us in. Arthur was not a god, he was a man, and it is his humanity, in all of its varied forms, which distinguishes him, above all.

All else are but shadows in the mirror of history.