The Mammoth Book of King Arthur (16 page)

In Gildas’s eyes all kings were usurpers, hence his term “tyrants”. There was a particular outbreak of them from the 440s onwards, once the first generation of leftover Romans,
like Ambrosius, had died out.

In §21, therefore, Gildas records his account of the rise of a series of lawless usurper kings, whose successors are to become the subject of his later condemnation. This is the central
point of
De Excidio
, namely that this lawlessness was to be punished by God and the form of that punishment is shown in §22 with the return of the “old enemy”, the Picts and
Scots. Gildas tells us that the British did not learn from the return of these enemies but continued to sink into further corruption until laid low by a plague. Europe was regularly devastated by
plagues during the fifth and sixth centuries, and although there is not a specific record of one in Britain around this time, it is known that in 452 the Huns were struck by plague, one which could
have spread to Britain.

In §23 Gildas refers to the most crass decision the British could have made. The Council, “together with the
superbo tyranno
”, chose to invite the Saxons into Britain to
fight the Picts. This is recorded in the
ASC
as happening sometime between 449 and
455, which ties in with 451–452 suggested above. Gildas does not name his
“proud tyrant,” but the
ASC
tells us it was Vortigern, so it’s likely that’s who he meant. The name Vortigern means “supreme king”, and Gildas’s
superbo tyranno
is a pun on that. Nennius (
see
Chapter 6) has much more to say about Vortigern, so I shall save my comments about him until then.

Gildas reports that the Saxons soon turned upon the British, and those Britons who were not enslaved retreated into the mountains or fled abroad. There was another wave of refugees from Britain
to Armorica about this time. Around this time, too, emerges the mysterious character of Riothamus, a “king of the Britons” fighting in Gaul, who has been suggested as another candidate
for Arthur (
see
Chapter 6). Gildas paints a desolate picture of abandoned Roman towns and the British hiding in their hill forts, cut down wherever they met the Saxons. The archaeological
record also shows that many Romano-British cities were deserted by this time. Only St Albans, Wroxeter, Silchester, Chester, Gloucester, London and Caernarvon show signs not only of continued
occupation, but also of new development. It also shows that several pre-Roman hill forts were reoccupied, the major ones being South Cadbury, Cadbury-Congresbury, Glastonbury, Tintagel, Deganwy,
Dinas Emrys, Dinas Powys, Dumbarton and the Mote of Mark.

Interestingly, in §25 Gildas comments, “after a time, when the cruel plunderers had gone home . . .”, the implication being that this wave of Saxon invaders was out for plunder
and not for settlement. The
ASC
makes no reference to the Saxons returning home, but does state that they sent for reinforcements, after which successive waves of Saxons invaded Britain over
the next sixty years. But then perhaps the
ASC
would not want to record a retreat. There are sufficient gaps in the years to allow a return, such as between 456 and 465. There is something a
little suspicious about the
ASC
’
s
record of events from 449 to 477. It drags on too long. For a period of twenty-eight years we only learn about Hengist and his son fighting the
Britons, or the Welsh. In fact the change in terminology from Britons (456) to Welsh (465) itself gives pause for thought. The Saxons began to call them the Welsh, or
Welisc
(later
Wealhas
), meaning “foreigners”, which is rather audacious for an invader. (The British, incidentally, called
the Saxons the
Sais
, which in Gaelic
became
Sasunnach
, or Sassenach.)

It is as if the records after 465 come from a genuine Saxon source whereas the earlier entries were derived from a British, or at least non-Saxon, source. Could it be that the later chroniclers
were embarrassed by a gap in the record from, say, 456 to 477, and so pushed back some events to fill the gap? They could not push back entries relating to Aelle or Cerdic, but they could add extra
events for Hengist, or extend the time during which he really was in Britain. The events recorded against 465 and 473 may have taken place in the late 450s, after which the majority of the
“plunderers” returned to Saxony and Angeln. The British were able to regroup under a new leader and drive the Saxons back to their settlements along the east. For a time, until around
477, the British could breathe again.

Gildas is discussing a period that would have been remembered clearly by his parents, certainly his grandparents, and be well known amongst the older churchmen with whom Gildas associated.
Although his history may be weak on the events and chronology of a century earlier, there is no reason for him to get more recent history wrong. We therefore have to accept that perhaps during the
early 460s most of the Saxons marauders returned home (presumably to Germany, though by “home” Gildas may mean the few Saxon settlements along the east coast), allowing the British to
regain control. This was when Britain rallied under a new leader.

And who was the new leader who rallied the British? For once Gildas names him, and it isn’t Arthur. It’s a man whom Gildas clearly reveres, Ambrosius Aurelianus. Gildas calls him a
“gentleman” and refers to him as a “
duce
”, a senior official. What’s more, his parents, who had been slain during the hostilities, had “worn the
purple”. Gildas really does mean “parents”, not forebears, as he refers to their deaths during the recent hostilities. Ambrosius’s father may not have literally worn the
purple, in terms of the rank denoted by his toga, but the phrase itself would certainly have meant that he had held a very senior position. In the later Roman Empire consuls were also allowed to
wear the purple, usually a purple-fringed toga. In the previous chapter I referred to the
Notitia Dignitatum
, a catalogue of official posts
which was still valid at the
time of Britain’s “departure” from the Empire. This listed the four or five provinces of Britain, two of which had governors of consular rank, Maxima Caesariensis, based on
London, and the mysterious Valentia. We do not know the name of the consular governors in Britain at the start of the fifth century, so it is entirely possible that one might have been
Ambrosius’s father.

Incidentally, it is worth noting here that the venerable Ambrose (339–397), Bishop of Milan, later beatified as St Ambrose, was himself a consular governor in Italy, based at Milan. His
father, who was the Praetorian Prefect of Gaul, at Arles, and to whom the
vicarius
of Britain reported, was also called Ambrosius Aurelianus. He was descended from a notable senatorial
family possibly related to the emperor Aurelian (215–275), one of the more successful emperors of his day, who earned the title
Restitutor Orbis
(“Restorer of the World”)
for reuniting the Empire in 274AD. If Gildas’s Ambrosius Aurelianus could count these amongst his antecedents and be the son of a consular governor, no wonder Gildas emphasised his name, and
regarded him as special.

§25 of Gildas would seem to take place during the 470s when Ambrosius led the British in a series of battles against the Saxons, which eventually led to the momentous victory at Badon. This
was the battle recorded in the
Welsh Annals
as the “victory of Arthur” in 518. It does seem a little surprising that, having named Ambrosius and sung his praises, Gildas chooses
not to name Arthur, whose victory over the Saxons he describes as “pretty well the last defeat of the villains and certainly not the least.” Gildas does not mention Arthur anywhere in
De Excidio.
Why not?

There are at least six possible reasons:

(1) Arthur didn’t exist. We have to consider that the reference in the
Welsh Annals
might have been added by a later chronicler, based on the growing Arthurian legend, and that the
victor was someone else, possibly Ambrosius himself.

(2) Gildas had no need to mention Arthur. As we have seen, Gildas does not mention many names at all, not even Vortigern’s. He mentions Ambrosius Aurelianus because he was clearly one of
Gildas’s heroes, the man who turned the tide against the Saxons during Britain’s darkest days.

(3) Arthur’s name was superfluous. Gildas is referring to events within living memory, only forty-three years in the past. If Badon was such a glorious victory,
everyone would remember who the victor was.

(4) Gildas disliked Arthur and did not want to glorify him. If Caradog’s life of Gildas has any basis of truth, Arthur was responsible for the death of Gildas’s brother Huail. Whilst
having to admit that Badon was a crucial victory, he did not see fit to go further and name him as the victor. It’s even possible that Arthur is named, but as one of the “tyrants”
Gildas later castigates. He would not want to praise him whilst also vilifying him.

(5) Arthur was not yet born. It could be that the real Arthur, to whom the various legends and triumphs became attached, lived later than the time Gildas was writing. Someone else was the victor
at Badon, but Arthur was retrospectively given the credit.

(6) Gildas did not know who the victor was. This seems the unlikeliest of reasons, but although Arthur seems such a major character to us today, he may not have been in Gildas’s day. His
legend had yet to grow, and despite the triumph of Badon, the victor’s name may not have been that well remembered.

Whatever the reason, Gildas’s omission of Arthur’s name is not proof that Arthur did not exist, but the onus is on us to find that proof elsewhere.

Gildas’s account tells us that the siege of Badon happened in the year of his birth, 43 years and 1 month before the time of writing. Such precision, so unusual for Gildas, might have
helped us date Badon and provide corroboration for the year 518 in the
Welsh Annals.
Unfortunately, we don’t know when Gildas wrote
De Excidio.

There are, however, clues within
De Excidio
itself. Most telling is the final paragraph quoted from §26, in which he refers to the “calm of the present.” He is writing in
a time when external wars have stopped, and a whole generation has grown up that is now ignorant of the “storm” with the Saxons. He makes no mention of plague or famine, and yet if the
evidence presented by David Keys in
Catastrophe
and Mike Baillie in
Exodus to Arthur
is true – and there is no reason to doubt it – from 535 onwards Britain was subject to
bitterly cold winters and summers. A plague swept
through Europe during the 540s, one of the worst ever. Had Gildas experienced this at the time of writing
De Excidio
there is little doubt that he would have referred to it, because it was further support for his argument – another punishment from God for the wicked ways of the kings. This suggests that
Gildas must have written
De Excidio
before 540, possibly even before 535. If so, then 43 years earlier would place Badon at 492–497 at the latest, suggesting that the entry in the
Welsh Annals
is wrong. The gap from 497 to 518 is 21 years, and we have seen already that later annalists, copying from earlier documents, may have confused entries dated only by Easter
cycles of 19 years.

A date of 497 for Badon is more consistent with Gildas’s narrative. We deduced earlier that Ambrosius led the resistance to the Saxons during the 470s, and Gildas tells us that victories
went both ways until the time of Badon. If Badon took place in 518, then the Saxon war continued for some forty years. Not impossible, of course, but Gildas’s narrative does not suggest that
long a period. Also, in §25, Gildas remarks that Ambrosius’s descendants “in our day” were greatly inferior to their “grandfather’s” excellence. He would
not have used the term “grandfather” unless he genuinely meant two generations. This gives us some 60 years from the 470s, which brings us to the 530s. On this basis
De Excidio
was written in the mid to late 530s; thus Gildas was born in the early 490s, placing Badon between 492 and 497.

An alternative translation of Gildas §26 by Bede appeared in his
Ecclesiastical History of the English People
, completed in 731. Bede’s research was impeccable, his
understanding of Latin first class and, living just two centuries after Gildas, he was close enough to have had access to an original or early copy of Gildas’s work, one less prone to error.
The following extract, from Chapter 16 of Bede’s
History
, is clearly lifted from Gildas:

Bede has read Gildas’s reckoning of 43 years and one month as being from the arrival of the Saxons, the so-called Saxon
adventus
, and not related to Gildas’s
birth at all. Bede actually gives a year for the
adventus
, 449, a date later adopted by the
ASC.
This gives us a date of 492–493 for Badon which, by pure coincidence, fits into
the timeframe cited above.

If Arthur was the battle leader at Badon, and not someone simply added by an overzealous annalist, then he was in his heyday at the end of the fifth century. And, if the
Welsh Annals
have
the date for Badon wrong, then the date for Camlann may also be out by the same degree. Instead of 539 it could have been during the 510s, certainly no later than the year 520. However, we must not
assume that the victor of Badon and the victim of Camlann are the same “Arthur”, and thus the
Annals
entry for Camlann might still be accurate.