The Mammoth Book of King Arthur (52 page)

Littleton and Malcor present a strong case for the Arthurian stories being a blend of Alanic and Celtic tales, each overlaying the other until their origins have become blurred. It is also
probable that the original legends brought west by the Alans later found affinity with stories brought back by the Crusaders, and that these gave a greater depth and resonance to the growing
Arthurian
mythos.

Geoffrey may not have been aware of any of this when he completed his
Historia,
and it was for his successors to create the stories that we now know so well. His successors took two
forms. There were those who translated and developed his
Historia,
and those who ignored history and went straight to the popular tales. It was the latter who developed the cycle of
adventures, but not without some input from the former.

3. Wace and Layamon

Geoffrey’s
Historia Regum Britanniae
had been a roaring success, and in his day there must have been several thousand copies circulating. Most were in Latin, but
translations also started to
appear. The earliest was by Geffrei Gaimar, who translated it into Anglo-Norman during the 1140s for Ralph Fitz Gilbert, in Lincolnshire. Gaimar
brought the history up to the time of William II, titling it
Lestoire des Engles.
Unfortunately, his translation of Geoffrey’s original
Historia
is now lost. It was soon
superseded by a more significant version by Robert Wace, known as the
Roman de Brut.

Wace was born in the first decade of the twelfth century, and was a Norman teacher and cleric who ended his days as a canon at the abbey of Bayeux in the late 1170s. He tells us that he was born
on the island of Jersey and was educated at Caen, and also in the Ile de France before returning to Caen. We know from his surviving writings that he undertook independent research, mostly in
Brittany, but also in parts of southern Britain, most likely the West Country. As a result, he brought his own thoughts to his translation. He did not simply invent material; rather, he stated his
sources and at times questioned Geoffrey. He even refrained from translating the
Prophecies of Merlin
because he did not know how to interpret them.

Wace completed his work in 1155, and presented a copy to Eleanor of Aquitaine. With this royal audience in mind, Wace represented Arthur in a courtly style. This was not the full-blown
courtliness of the later French romances, but one that removed Arthur from the sedateness of Geoffrey and the baseness of the Celtic tales. Arthur was portrayed as a king who was the equal, and in
the mould of, the Anglo-Norman rulers. Most significantly, Wace introduced the Round Table:

He was very likely describing Henry’s court. Geoffrey’s slightly more sober description is an interesting comparison:

Geoffrey’s account may have presented the “facts”, but Wace’s created the image. Although later romancers developed Wace’s description, such as the
idea that Arthur would not start one of his Holy Day meals before he had heard an account of some adventure, no one added anything of significance to change the basic impression. It was Wace who
clothed Geoffrey’s basic concept in pageantry for the romancers to embellish.

Wace also mentions the “marvellous gestes and errant deeds” attributed to Arthur. He goes so far as to say that, “They have been noised about this mighty realm for so great a
space that the truth has turned to fable and an idle song.” But, he also remarks, “the truth stands hid in the trappings of a tale.” Wace understood that although it was no longer
possible to separate fact from fiction, nevertheless deep down there was a basic truth. But this understanding does not stop him telling a good tale. He gives a rousing description of
Arthur’s battle against the giant of Mont-
St.-Michel, and of the fight against the Romans. He brings to life Arthur’s final battle against Mordred, and develops the
idea that Arthur will return. Whereas Geoffrey closes the life of Arthur with the noncommittal “[he] . . . was carried off to the isle of Avalon so that his wounds might be attended
to”, Wace adds that “He is yet in Avalon, awaited of the Britons; for as they say and deem he will return from whence he went and live again.” Wace ends cautiously, saying
“but nevertheless Arthur came never again.” Henry II did not want to give the Welsh more fuel for rebellion.

Wace refers to the Round Table on three occasions. Twice he means specifically an item of furniture, but the third time, at the final battle, he refers to the deaths of “the knights of his
Table Round, whose praise was bruited about the whole world,” suggesting a knightly order of fellowship. This was an idea that would catch on throughout the kingdoms of the Middle Ages. When
Edward III instigated the Order of the Garter in 1348, he was originally going to call it the Order of the Round Table. The concept of a “Round Table” as a gathering of knights for a
tournament or pageant was also widely used. Its earliest such spectacle, as reported by Philippe de Navarre, was in 1223 when Jean d’Ibelin, Lord of Beirut, held a pageant in Cyprus for the
knighting of his sons. Jean was related to the influential de Lusignan family amongst whom were the kings of Jerusalem, and had been Constable of Jerusalem from 1194. It is possible that Jean had
seen what was supposed to be the Table of the Last Supper in the Holy Land. This was reputed to be round, and it features heavily in the Grail legend.

We do not know where Wace got the idea of a Round Table. He could well have heard of it in discussion at court from crusaders returning from the Holy Land, or amongst the fables of the Bretons.
According to Peter Berresford Ellis, in
Celt and Greek,
it had become an established pattern at large gatherings for everyone to sit in an open circle with the most important individuals,
usually the chieftain and the host, sitting at the centre. It was an obvious model to adopt, and if it also happened to fit in with the stories coming back from the Holy Land, so much the
better.

Wace’s work was every bit as popular as Geoffrey’s, and likewise had its translators, including Layamon, a parish priest
at Arley in Worcestershire, near
Kidderminster, within sight of the Wrekin. Layamon was a Saxon, though his name indicates Scandinavian blood. Layamon embarked upon his translation, known simply as
Brut,
with great gusto.
His final version, written in the 1190s, is, despite telling no additional story, a third longer than Wace’s. It is simply full of rousing embellishments and flair that bring the story alive
in the manner of such great Saxon and Danish stories as
Beowulf.
Layamon turns a history into a full story, complete with reported speech and detailed observation. He certainly doesn’t
let facts get in the way of a good tale. At his birth, the elves place Arthur under magical protection, and when he is wounded in the final battle it is the Elf Queen Argante who takes him to
Avalon to be healed.

Layamon also greatly elaborates the reference to the Round Table. A fight breaks out in Arthur’s hall over who should have precedence in dining, just as in
Bricriu’s Feast.
A
Cornish craftsman tells Arthur that he can make him a table that will seat 1600 men “all turn about”, yet a table that could be taken with him and set up wherever needed. It
doesn’t take much to see that if all those men were seated around the outside of a circle, the table would be at least a hundred feet in diameter. However, Layamon also describes the seating
as “without and within”, suggesting that this may be an open circle with seating inside and out. Since it was portable it would consist of a series of interlocking trestle tables, which
were the norm at most Saxon courts. Even so, it would require a significant number of tables (perhaps sixty or seventy), hardly ideal for transporting across country. But if Layamon was happy with
elves magicking Arthur away, a table of such proportions clearly would present no problem.

Layamon completed his
Brut
sometime during the 1190s, by which time the Arthurian romances had taken a hold on the Anglo-Norman world. Others would continue to develop and adapt
Geoffrey’s
Historia,
mostly notably Robert Mannyng who incorporated his translation of Wace’s
Brut
into the first part of
Story of England
(1328), and John Hardyng
who used the Arthurian tales as a symbolic forerunner of the Lancastrian and Yorkist struggles in his
Chronicle
(1461). The intervening two hundred years, however, saw the historical Arthur
eclipsed by the hero of legend.

4
. Chrétien de Troyes

Wace tells us that at the time he was writing, in the early 1150s, tales of Arthur too numerous to mention were circulating throughout the Breton and Anglo-Norman world.
Geoffrey and Wace were capitalising on an existing fascination amongst the general populace and re-presenting the legend in a form that related to the royalty and nobility of Europe.

Of particular significance was Wace’s royal patronage, because it was the court of Henry II and Henry’s network of relatives throughout Europe that would encourage the development of
the Arthurian romance, partly for the sheer pleasure of the stories, but mostly because of what these stories signified for the Anglo-Norman world.

For the ladies, there were short pieces of courtly romance composed by Robert Biket and Marie de France. We don’t know anything about Biket, but Marie de France clearly moved in royal
circles. Her
lais
were dedicated to Henry II, whilst her collection of Aesopian fables,
Ysopet,
was dedicated to a Count William. William is usually identified as Henry’s
illegitimate son William Longespée, although if the fables were translated early enough he could be Henry’s first-born, William, Count of Poitiers, a title inherited through his mother
Eleanor of Aquitaine. William died in 1156, not three years old. Marie de France has never been properly identified, but one suggestion is that she was Henry’s illegitimate half-sister, who
was Abbess of Shaftesbury from 1181 to her death around 1216.

On a grander scale were the verse romances of Chrétien de Troyes, the man who effectively invented the genre. Geoffrey and Wace may have built the beacon, even added the fuel, but it was
Chrétien who ignited it and its flames still shine nearly nine hundred years later. It was Chrétien who gave us Camelot and Lancelot and the Grail, along with dramatic adventures,
mystical conundrums and the whole world of Arthurian chivalry and romance.

Chrétien’s early work was all to do with romance, including translations of the love poems of Ovid. Not for him the harsh reality of a Dark Age Briton fighting for survival against
the Saxons. In fact, Chrétien was not that interested in Arthur. He
was more interested in stories of romance and peril that reflected the world around him, and how
these stories might win the hearts of the ladies at court. What better means than the adventures of Arthur’s knights? In this way Chrétien shifted the entire focus from warfare to
romance.

Chrétien’s initial inspiration may not have been the story of Arthur, but the parallel story of Tristan and Iseult. The
ménage à trois
between Mark, king of
Cornwall, his young wife Iseult and his nephew Tristan was ripe for intrigue. At the start of
Cligés,
Chrétien tells us that he has written a romance about King Mark and the
fair-haired Iseult. We can see here an obvious parallel with the other romantic threesome of Arthur, Lancelot and Guenevere. There had been no hint of this in any of the previous legends or
histories, though there was a story of Guenevere’s abduction by Melwas in Caradog’s
Life of Gildas,
whilst Geoffrey and Wace refer to her abduction by Mordred. When
Chrétien came to write about Lancelot and Guenevere in
Le Chevalier de la charrete,
which starts with her abduction by Meleagaunt (Caradog’s Melwas), he grafted on to this the
basic Mark/Tristan/Iseult formula and reworked it in an Arthurian milieu.

Before Chrétien gave this impetus to the Arthurian legend it had been the Tristan story that was gathering pace. Versions of the story were produced by Marie de France, Thomas
d’Angleterre (a French poet at the court in London), Eilhart von Oberge (possibly from Brunswick) and Béroul (possibly from Normandy), from the 1160s to the 1190s, all drawing upon a
now lost ur-
Tristan,
which may have been the original inspiration for all courtly romances. The best known of the versions of
Tristan
was that by Gottfried von Strassburg, written but
not completed soon after the year 1200.