The Mammoth Book of King Arthur (51 page)

1. The Welsh background

We have already seen that between the eighth and the twelfth centuries wondrous tales about Arthur emerged, most being written down from oral tradition by the early 1100s.
Arthur was raised from a mortal into the ranks of the great heroes, though he never became a fully-fledged god in the same way as such Scandinavian heroes as Thor (whose name has a striking
similarity). Strangely, as time progresses and Arthur becomes the property of the Norman French, he reverts to being only too human, and it is the others, such as Lancelot and Gawain, who become
super-human.

It is a fascinating transition because what usually captivates us about Arthur is not his historical origins, but the adventures of his court at Camelot and his ultimately tragic life. Arthur
and his knights captured the mood and spirit of the times, and transformed a battle hero into Britain’s greatest legend.

We have already discussed the early Welsh tales
Culhwch and Olwen
and
Pa Gur,
both of which portray Arthur in heroic and supernatural terms (
see
Chapter 8). Their Arthur is
clearly different from the Arthur described by Nennius and Geoffrey of Monmouth, who portray him as a military leader with no unusual powers, although the mythical Arthur is lurking just offstage.
In his section on the Wonders of Britain, Nennius refers to the stone at Carn Cafal that bore the imprint of Arthur’s hound, and the tomb in Ergyng of Arthur’s son, which is never the
same size twice. Geoffrey includes Merlin’s predictions and the story of Arthur fighting the giant at Mont-St.-Michel, an obvious Breton folktale that crept into his history. Yet all these
are as nothing to what was emerging elsewhere.

Primary amongst the Celtic tales is
Preideu Annwvyn,
“The Spoils of Annwvyn”, which tells of the attempt by Arthur and his
men to rescue Gwair from an
island fortress, and to find the pearl-rimmed cauldron owned by the Lord of Annwvyn. The story has some elements in common with the quest for the Holy Grail (
see
Chapter 16), but it is also
an archetypal text for an Arthurian adventure, and may just relate to an heroic episode in Welsh history. As such, it is a crucial story in the mutation of the historical Arthur to the legendary
one.

Whilst it would be an exaggeration to say that all Arthurian romances owe their origin to this story, of the surviving early Welsh tales this is the one that bears the closest resemblance to the
key features of the later romances, including a quest, a rescue and a magical object. The adventure is not a total success, and was, in the words of the poet, “a woeful conflict”. In
fact, many of Arthur’s adventures, and those of his knights, meet with failure and require some special heroism or magic to save the day.

The poem is attributed to Taliesin, who is supposed to be the narrator and one of the seven men who survived the journey. If he was indeed one of these men, there’s little doubt that he
would have composed a heroic poem to celebrate the achievement, although the poem is enigmatic enough to make one wonder whether Taliesin, or perhaps a later embellisher, was trying to say
something else. If Taliesin, who lived from perhaps 530 to 610, experienced and wrote about this adventure in the 570s, it would fit into the reign of Artúir of Dyfed and, in fact, the poem
does have connections with Dyfed.

The earliest surviving copy of
Preidu Annwvyn
dates from the early 1300s, when the flowering of Arthurian romance had already passed, but there is little doubt that the version we know
today probably dates from the late ninth century, with oral versions existing before then. There would have been other heroic and mystical tales, not necessarily associated with Arthur, but of a
kind that gradually formed into a body of work that influenced later storytellers. They would have borrowed from existing tales, and audiences for these stories would have looked forward to key
passages and well-known episodes, just as we do today with formula action films. Unfortunately, all too few of those earlier tales have survived, and we only hear echoes of them in the stories.

Amongst the key passages are three well-known motifs: the
beheading test, the test for chastity, and the “loathly lady”. All of these have origins in Celtic
tales, and all of them become key elements in the Arthurian stories.

The beheading test is best known from its appearance in
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight,
but it also appears in several earlier Arthurian episodes, including the first continuation of
Chrétien’s
Perceval,
dating from the 1190s, in which the knight who takes up the challenge is none other than Caradog Vreichfras. The earliest known appearance of this challenge
is in the Irish story
Fled Bricrenn
(“Bricriu’s Feast”), from the Ulster Cycle, which dates from at least the eighth century. The earliest surviving manuscript is from
around the year 1100. The original story would have been well known as it featured one of the great heroes, Cú Chulainn. Bricriu, a renowned troublemaker, has invited all the Irish heroes to
a banquet. He promises to save the place of honour at the table for the knight he regards as the greatest of them all, but spreads dissension by telling each of three heroes that the place is
reserved for him. Fighting breaks out, which is not resolved even after they petition the king of Munster. But then a giant stranger arrives at the royal palace, and challenges the three heroes to
the beheading game, just as described in
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight,
except that here the return bout is on the following day. Two of the heroes chicken out, but Cú Chulainn
takes up the challenge and is thus declared the greatest of the three.

The episode of the
Perceval
continuation in which this test appears is virtually a separate entity often called the
Livre de Caradoc,
which may have had a separate existence prior
to its incorporation in that poem. Caradoc, a key figure at Arthur’s court, appears in both
Culhwch and Olwen
and
The Dream of Rhonabwy,
and it is likely that the original
version of the
Livre de Caradoc
was a Welsh tale which had drawn upon the Irish legend.

There is another episode in the
Livre de Caradoc
that is also a test, although of a different kind. Towards the end of the story, a youth arrives with a drinking horn, which will spill
its contents over any man who drinks from it whose wife has been unfaithful. Only Caradoc passes the test. This episode was lifted almost entirely from the
Lai du Cor
by Robert Biket, which
dates from the 1160s or earlier. The wife of Caradoc was Tegau Eurfron,
listed in Triad 103 as one of the “Three Chaste Maidens” of Prydein. The same triad calls
her “one of the three beauteous dames in the court of Arthur”. Intriguingly, the list of the “Thirteen Treasures of Britain” includes the mantle of Tegau Eurfron, and one of
the other versions of the chastity test is of a mantle that retains its beauty only on a faithful maiden. It is clear that legends about Caradoc were circulating in the Welsh world long before
Biket’s poem. Furthermore, although Biket places Arthur’s court in Caerleon, he notes that Caradoc’s wife had been born at Cirencester, and that the horn is still on display
there. By the twelfth century Cirencester was no longer the major town it had been under the Romans, suggesting that it was not an obvious one for Biket to choose unless it was already associated
with the legend of Caradoc and Tegau.

The “loathly lady” or
fier baker
(“proud kiss”) motif is perhaps best known from the
Wedding of Gawain and Dame Ragnell
and “The Wife of Bath’s
Tale” from the
Canterbury Tales.
In both cases, the hero agrees to marry a hideous hag in return for information, but discovers upon a kiss that she is the most beautiful woman in the
world. The theme first appeared in
Le Bel Inconnu
(“The Fair Unknown”), by Renaud de Beaujeu, written in the late 1180s, in a slightly different form. A lady has been transformed
into a serpent, but the young knight Guinglain is able to lift the curse with a kiss, and subsequently marries her. The motif can be traced back to the Irish tale,
The Adventures of the Sons of
Eochaid Mugmedon,
in which Niall proves his suitability for kingship by kissing (and transforming) a hideous old hag. This tale was circulating by the 1020s and doubtless earlier, so was again
well known by the time the Arthurian stories were taking shape.

In most cases, the authors of these early Celtic Arthurian tales are unknown – unless we accept the possible early roles of Taliesin or Llywarch Hen. However, one name has come down to us.
Gerald of Wales, when not toadying up to the great and the good, wrote copiously, and refers to a great storyteller or “fabulator” who lived just before his time, called Bledhericus.
Variants of that name crop up in other works. The Flanders poet Wauchier referred to a Bleheris, or Blihis, who knew of the Grail story, and the names Brandelis and Bleoberis feature as knights in
the later romances. It is even conjectured (convincingly) that Bledhericus was the original of Merlin’s mentor, Blaise.

Jessie L. Weston, in
From Ritual to Romance,
mentions a suggestion by Edward Owen of the Cymmorodorion Society that Bledhericus could have been “a certain Welsh noble” named
Bledri ap Cadivor, a Welsh chieftain who lived near Carmarthen in Dyfed around 1080–1140. He was a
latemeri,
or interpreter, and it is understood that he was an intermediary between
the Welsh and the Normans. Bledri also turned up at the court of Guillaume VII, count of Poitou (and IX of Aquitaine) in the 1110s or 1120s. Guillaume was the grandfather of Eleanor of Aquitaine,
who was born at either Bordeaux or Guienne around 1120. Eleanor may even have heard these Arthurian stories directly from Bledri in her childhood, which would account for her lifelong interest in
the subject.

The one story with which Bledri’s name is associated is that of Tristan and Iseult (
see
Chapter 13). This was originally independent of the Arthurian story, and was not integrated
until the prose
Tristan
of the 1240s. Bledri could have been the conduit for the Arthurian stories between Brittany, Wales and the Anglo-Norman world, reconstituting tales that had grown
independently from a once-common source. Bledri was alive at the time of Geoffrey of Monmouth, and perhaps tales that Bledri recounted found their way to Geoffrey. Bledri is said to have compiled a
collection of old tales about Gawain called
Le Grant Conte,
but no trace survives.

It is impossible to tell if Bledri or his counterparts were those who polished and refined
Culhwch and Olwen, Peredur, Geraint ab Erbin, Preideu Annwvyn
and
Le Livre de Caradoc,
all of which show that many independent Celtic Arthurian romances were circulating before Geoffrey compiled his
Historia.
Whilst Geoffrey was certainly aware of them, as a few of the
elements found their way into his story of Arthur, he was not significantly influenced by them. However, with the mushrooming of interest in Arthur in the Anglo-Norman world, Geoffrey’s
successors looked to the old tales for ideas and inspiration, and the Arthurian legend began to grow.

2. The Alanic dimension

One of the less considered contributions to the Arthurian story, but one currently championed by C. Scott Littleton and Linda A. Malcor in
From Scythia to Camelot,
is the
legends and stories of the Alans. The Alans were a Sarmatian tribe that rose to dominance in the latter years of the Roman Empire, whom we have already met in connection with Lucius Artorius
Castus. They had steadily migrated from central Asia to settle in the Caucasus and around the northern shores of the Black Sea, with other groups settling in Persia. They gradually infiltrated
eastern Europe, but were overwhelmed by the Huns and moved west, settling in France and Spain, whilst another group joined forces with the Vandals in North Africa.

The Alans that had remained in the Caucasus became the peoples now called the Ossetians. One of the most significant links between the Alans and the Arthurian legend comes from the Ossetian
legend of Batraz’s sword. Batraz, belonging to the group of warriors called the
Nartamongae
(Narts), has wreaked revenge upon those who killed his father, and, now satisfied, is
prepared for his own death. He commands that his sword be thrown back into the sea. The sword is so heavy that his men hide it instead, but when Batraz asks them what they saw and they say nothing,
he knows they have deceived him. He commands them again and this time they drag the sword to the sea and cast it in. At that point the sea bubbles blood red. They tell Batraz what they saw, and he
dies fulfilled. The link with Arthur’s final command for Excalibur is only too obvious. Whilst it is common in Celtic funeral tradition to cast swords and precious artefacts into lakes as
offerings to the Otherworld, the eastern parallels with Bedivere’s reluctance to throw Excalibur into the lake are pertinent.

There are other compelling parallels between the Sarmatian tales and the Arthurian romances. Lancelot has much in common with Batraz; both are raised by a fey-like female guardian associated
with water, and are described as the best of all knights. Perceval, too, has parallels with the story of Kai Kosrau, as later told by the Persian poet Firdausi. Both are regarded as fools, both
have lost their father and live in the forest, and both are encouraged to become warriors by their encounters with knights.
Perceval later learns that many of his ancestors
bear the name Alan. There is also much similarity between the Tristan and Iseult story, and the Persian tale
Vîs u Râmîn
by Fakhr Ud-Din Gurgâni (
see
Chapter
13). Finally, the Cup of the Narts may be seen as a prototype Grail: it refills itself when empty; it can tell if anyone drinking from it is telling lies; and it can only be awarded to one amongst
them who is without flaw.

The Alans established themselves across north-central France in those very territories that later developed the Arthurian romances, particularly Champagne, Normandy and Brittany. Through
marriage, Alanic rulers claimed part of the kingdom of Brittany, the earliest ruling in the early 600s, and thus a contemporary of Athrwys of Gwent. Alain the Great established himself as king of
Brittany in 888, and it was under his grandson Alain Barbetorte (“Twisted Beard”) that Brittany became a duchy. The last of Barbetorte’s descendants was Conan IV, whose daughter
Constance married Geoffrey, son of Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine. Their son, who became duke of Brittany in 1187, was called Arthur.