Shadow of the King (107 page)

“I am for the Otherworld, Cymraes.” He announced it as a fact, a statement.

Nothing hysterical or dramatic. It was so.

Gwenhwyfar squeezed his hand. His skin was slightly damp, she could feel

his trembling. He was afraid. As was she.

“It seems,” he added, “I have been long enough in this.”

Simply she answered, “Aye, it would seem so.”

The stars. The souls of the dead. A thousand, thousand eyes watching,

unblinking. Waiting. One fell, blazing a trail of a last triumph, burning brightly

and briefly before it faded, was gone. Gwenhwyfar followed it with her eyes.

Was that one for Medraut, she wondered? He deserved a star to fall for him, to

mark his passing. There would be no grave for him, no burials for the Artoriani

who had died. For so few remained to dig graves, to tidy away the dead. He

had died, as they all had, with courage in his heart. Had died knowing the

Pendragon would not be far behind.

Again, she squeezed Arthur’s hand as he said, “From the humblest creature

to the wondrous thing that is a star, everything must die when it comes to its

time of ending.” She smiled down at him. With her other hand, touched the

flop of hair across his forehead that had, since first she had ever known him,

been so irritatingly untidy.

Not to him, but to the night darkness, to the stillness of the silent Tor and

the starlit ripples on the Lake, Gwenhwyfar answered.

“As long as there is someone willing to tell the story and another eager to

listen, a man such as you will be forever remembered. Though they may forget

what you did and why, and they may mistake the minor parts played by others

in the tale.”

6 4 8 H e l e n H o l l i c k

The wind hushed across the Tor, dancing through the grass, teasing the reeds

beside the lake, and whispered to itself as it twirled away up the valley towards

the distant hills marking the place that had been Caer Cadan.

“But none shall forget your name,” Gwenhwyfar said on a quiet, tear-

caught breath. “None shall forget the man who was once the Pendragon.

Arthur. My king.”

Author’s Note

Few historians are prepared to accept the dates and events listed in

sources such as the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, Bede, and Gildas as entirely

accurate. Rather, these records represent a broad—and biased—sweep of events.

It is so frustrating there are so few undeniable facts for this muddled era of British

history. We know what happened, occasionally where, but not precisely when.

Even these early written records rarely agree with each other in the matter of dates.

The timing of Easter, which was in disagreement for many years, stirred the whole

confusion of dating into a further, fogged mess. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle,

for instance, lists some events—notably the “history” of Wessex—twice, with a

difference of nineteen years for the same event. So, if even in the tenth century,

when it was written, they were not certain of the dates, what chance do we have

one thousand years later? In the end, I gave up trying to make sense of it all and

decided to leave the nit-picking to the professionals. I therefore freely admit my

dates are manipulated—within the realms of plausibility—to fit my tale; for after

all, the three books of the Pendragon’s Banner Trilogy are novels, loosely woven

around the few definite things that happened. In this, the third book, I have on

the whole used the earlier version of the nineteen-year discrepancy. For instance,

Cerdic landed at Cerdicesora with his five ships in 476 or 495, and could have

fought his battle at Cerdicesford in 500 or 519.

But of course, whether that battle was Arthur’s Camlann, only Arthur,

Cerdic, and those who lived and died at that time know for certain. We prob-

ably never will.

If dates cannot be agreed upon, the matter of Arthur himself is even more

debatable! There is much passion and heated disagreement concerning the

various theories of Arthur’s how, when, and where. Indeed, it has not even been

established whether he ever truly existed outside the realm of the imagination.

Cerdic is also an anomaly. He is named as a leader of Saxons—those men

who were the founders of Wessex—but his name is British. It has been widely

6 5 0 H e l e n H o l l i c k

assumed that his father was British-born. I am not the only person to suggest his

father could have been Arthur.

Ambrosius Aurelianus existed. Gildas writes fondly of him as “the last of the

Romans.” The fortresses I have named after him in my story may, in fact, have

nothing to do with him, but again, I am not the only one to have suggested

it. I decided to use them because those in modern Epping Forest (Ambersbury

Banks and Loughton Camp) are near to where I live—anyway, why not?

Gildas lived. Although again, my dates may not be accurate. We know he

wrote some time during the early sixth century. His book complains about

the moral decline of religion; it is not a history. He does mention the siege at

Badon, although his dating is frustratingly ambiguous and who was his “filthy

lioness”? He rebukes her son for murder in a holy place, but that is all we

know of her. I have made her Archfedd, Arthur’s daughter, but obviously I

have no evidence whatsoever to back this. He probably knew Ambrosius, most

certainly knew Maelgwyn of Gwynedd, Aurelius Caninus, and Vortipor, for

he soundly rebukes their crimes and sins. Why did he not mention Arthur? I

believe because by the time he was writing, Arthur was already dead and was

irrelevant to his narrative. It might also have been because Gildas’s loyalty could

not lie with the Pendragon because of his eldest brother’s death…the Stone

exists at Rhuthun (Ruthin), the legend of Hueil’s execution by Arthur along

with it.

Geraint’s death at the battle of Llongborth is fact. An early Welsh poem

describing the event is highly dramatic and so sad. “After the war-cry, bitter

the grave.” It was a battle that heavily featured cavalry, and is one of the first

poems to mention Arthur’s men. For the Saxons involved, Port is probably a

fabricated name, but I have used it anyway. From the Saxon Wihtgar, the Isle

of Wight apparently gets its name. Ambrosius did fight Vitolinus and gain a

rather doubtful victory at Guoloph, and Aelle was the first Saxon Bretwalda,

and did attack Anderida (Pevensey).

My version of the story of “the Loathly Lady”—Ragnall—does not quite

follow the known tale, for mine is more of an interpretation on a theme; and

of course I have substituted Cadwy, Ambrosius Aurelianus’s son, for the Sir

Gawain of the more familiar medieval legend.

As for Medraut, the Mordred of later tales, he is usually portrayed as the

traitor, the one who fought against his father, but an early poem does not

support this. “
The battle of Camlann in which Arthur and Medraut fell…
” There

is nothing here to suggest they fought on opposing sides. For once, and to

S h a d o w o f t h e k i n g 6 5 1

be different, I have made Medraut more of a “good guy”—if a somewhat

misguided one.

The contagious disease we now call strangles is as much a worry to horse-

owners of today as it was in the past. The illness is mentioned in Chapter V

of Pelagonius’s veterinary notes under the heading “
Cures and medicines for

head ailments.
” The majority of cures appear only once in this section, but

strangles is mentioned on seven occasions, indicating how prevalent this

illness must have been during Roman times. Perhaps my one questionable

fact would be this disease mainly affects young horses and occasionally the

old. However, given the lack of knowledge about contagion in the fifth

century, I do not think it unreasonable to suppose that a horse like Onager

could contract it.

As with many, totally unconnected legends, the Wookey Hole Witch came

to be associated with the stories of Arthur. She was a reality, an old woman

living in the caves whose skeleton was found with an alabaster ball. She actually

dates from the early eleventh century and so could not possibly be Morgaine.

Poetic licence can be allowed to stretch the imagination occasionally; and

besides, people are known to have lived in the caves from about 2500 BC.

It is not unreasonable to suggest a lone woman could have been there in the

fifth century.

Many of the British place and river names have been lost to us. On the

whole, I have used what I have felt comfortable with, although these may

not always be totally accurate. To the historian or professional, I apologise for

any liberties; but again, I emphasise this is a story, a novel. It is not meant as a

scholarly, historical work.

Geoffrey Ashe’s book
The Discovery of King Arthur
put the idea of a campaign

in Gaul into my mind. Not everyone agrees with his theories, but I am grateful

for the inspiration behind what—I hope—proves to be a good story!
Shadow

of the King
follows his theory, in which he suggested Arthur could have been

Riothamus, a war leader who did exist. We have several references to prove that

fact: in particular, a letter to him from Sidonius Apollinaris—a letter which I

have used in my story. Riothamus was king of the Britons—but does this mean

the British or the Bretons? Riothamus, like so many names of this period, was

a title meaning something like “king most” or “supreme leader.” Today, the

title Prince of Wales refers to Prince Charles, but could equally mean George,

the notorious Prince Regent or the Welsh Llewelyn ap Gryffydd, the only true

Welsh Prince of Wales!

6 5 2 H e l e n H o l l i c k

The battle at Deols (Vicus Dolensis) was fought between “the British” and

the Goths. Syagrius’s army did fail to arrive, and the British were slaughtered.

Riothamus fled into Burgundy and was never heard of again.

Was he Arthur? Mr Ashe’s theory has been hotly disputed, but I think it is

as plausible as many alternative suggestions regarding Arthur. And there is no

faultless evidence to prove Riothamus was not Arthur! The one, major factor

again is the dating. Sidonius was already Bishop of Clermont Ferrand when he

wrote his letter to Riothamus. Was he inaugurated as bishop before 469 or after

the battle of Deols? Or perhaps Riothamus was just a nuisance, a minor warlord

who plagued that area for several years. Perhaps he was Arthur. It is up to the

individual to decide.

As for the man Ecdicius and the siege of Clermont Ferrand (Augustonemtum),

eighteen men against several thousand Goths? Surely not! Well, we have

another letter from Sidonius Apollinaris praising his brother-in-law for just

such a wondrous victory! The letter was written before 475 and there is no

reason to disbelieve its contents. Well-armed cavalry can wreak havoc among

poorly equipped, startled infantry.

But was Ecdicius trained by Arthur?

If Arthur truly lived, and if he was Riothamus? Who knows?

Helen Hollick, 2010

Acknowledgments

I have so many friends to thank who have given me their support when

writing was nothing more than an ambition and a dream. Mal—I value

his sensible opinions and judgement; I have spent many an hour standing in a

windswept stable yard happily discussing horses and history with Joan. Sharon

Penman’s e-mails boosted my confidence on days when I have not a word in

my head, and good friend Elizabeth Chadwick, who also knows the ups and

downs of an author’s, career has been so supportive. Thank you both. Sue and

Geoff have a special place on my list for their laughter and friendship, and thank

you, the words are quite inadequate, to Sue for the ponies. Briallen (Welsh for

primrose
) appears in this story especially for her.

Researching the background details of my books takes time. I am grateful

to those who were kind enough to give their expert help: Dorset County

Museum for their advice on the post-Roman name of that county; the staff

of my local library; and Graham Scobie at Winchester Museum for his

useful correspondence.

My family deserves a special thank you. My sister Margaret for the useful discus-

sion we had about Wookey Hole; and for his eagerness, my nephew Tom.

My love goes to Ron, my husband, and to Kathy, my daughter. They never

(well, rarely!) complain at the monopoly over my life that my novels take. I

think the rewards are, at last, beginning to show.

Two of my dearest friends undertook the organisation and navigation of

a memorable time during the summer of 1995 touring northern France and

Brittany. For me it was a working holiday researching the details of Arthur’s

campaign there. I would not have undertaken the trip without their help. To

say thank you,
Shadow of the King
was originally dedicated to these two special

friends, Hazel and Derek. Sadly Hazel passed away some while ago. I miss her

very much. I have altered my dedication, therefore, to be in her memory.