THE APPLE TREE OF MYRDDIN

Chapel Knowe Near Nemphlar, South Lanarkshire

(Photo Courtesy Alan O'Dowd Via geograph.org.uk)

In the early Welsh poem Yr Afallennau, 'The Apple Trees', we are told about a magical apple tree in which Myrddin the Mad finds refuge from the British Strathclyde king, Rhydderch.  We are given various enigmatic hints as to the location of this tree.  The tree is in the Celyddon Wood (in this case, the Scottish Lowland forest deriving its name from the Caddon Water, a relocation of the true Caledonian Forest that lay in the Highlands). It is said to be "beyond Rhun", and in a glade (Awallen peren atif inllanerch).  Also, it is on a bank of a river.

Many have dispensed with this tree as a mythological construct.  I once tried to identify it with Cairn Avel, a chambered tomb in Dumfries and Galloway. However, certain antiquarian writers did point out that the Welsh common noun llanerch or "glade" was present in the Scottish Lowland place-name Lanark.  The Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru has for the entry on llanerch:

"llannerch

[?llan+erch1 neu ynteu est. yn -rk- i’r Frth. *landa (> llann), H. Grn. lanherch, gl. saltus; digwydd mewn e. lleoedd yng Nghumbria ac yn yr Alban, e.e. Lanercost, Lanark, Lanrick, Lendrick, Caerlanrig]

eb.g. (bach. g. llanerchyn) ll. llanerchau, -i, -oedd, -ydd, llanneirch, llenneirch, llennyrch.

Lle agored mewn coedwig, &c., gwerddon, tir porfa, cowrt, beili, man gwag, clwt, mangre, lle, ardal; brycheuyn, ysmotyn; (geir.) trigfa; Her. maes neu wyneb tarian:

a clearing, glade, oasis, pasture, court, empty space, patch, place, area, region; blemish, spot; (dict.) habitation; field of escutcheon (in her.)." 

Alas, no one seems to have paid attention to this observation. Yet the connection has been confirmed by the best of the modern place-name scholars.  The following is from Alan  G. James' "The Brittonic Language in the Old North: A Guide to the Place-Name Evidence, Volume 2, Guide to the Elements":

"lanerc or *lanrec (f) Br *landā- (see lann) + -arcā- > OW(LL) lannerch > M-MnW llannerch. The suffix -arcā- may be diminutive, cf. early Modern Welsh glosses llan = Latin area, llannerch = areola (see GPC, and Williams 1952). If so, and assuming a secular sense for lann (which see), the meaning would be ‘a small (cleared, and possibly enclosed) area of (former) scrub, waste, fallow or wooded land’. The common interpretation, ‘a glade’ may over-emphasise the woodland connotations. The examples from the North mostly show single –n- and non-spirant –rc. Jackson, (1955a) at p. 164, regarded the latter as a Pritenic feature, but it was probably also present in northernmost Brittonic. 

The cluster of names with this element in and around the middle Irthing valley, recorded mainly

in the Lanercost Cartulary (Todd 1997), is of particular interest. Jackson argued, in LHEB §149,

pp. 571-2, that the absence of spirant lenition from these names may indicate that [-rk] > [-rχ],

which he dated to the late 6th century in West Brittonic, occurred later or not at all in northern

Brittonic/ Cumbric (assuming as he did that these names were adopted by Northumbrian English

speakers on their arrival, again in the late 6th century). However, this begs several questions, and

his later opinion on the similar feature in Pritenic (1955a loc. cit.) suggests an alternative view

that these names may reflect much later colonisation of the district by settlers from further north

(though not necessarily from Pictland): see A. G. James (2008) at p. 200.

Several forms also show metathesised –rec, which may be compared with Landrick Per (x2) and

Lendrick Ang and Knr. R. A. V. Cox (1997) shows that such metathesis was characteristic of

Gaelicised forms of this word. This may be relevant to the names north of the Forth, and even to

the local pronunciation of Lanark recorded as Lainrick. However, it is doubtful whether the

names in the Lanercost Cartulary are Gaelic or Goidelic-influenced. See also Nicolaisen (2007) at

p. 120 and A.G. James (2009a) at pp. 151-2.

a1) Lanark CPNS p. 356: see above. Lanerton Cmb PNCmb p. 115 [+ OE –tūn ‘a farm’]. b2) Lanercost Cmb PNCmb p. 71 + personal name *Ǭst: though unrecorded, such a name could be a neo-Brittonic form for the Latin Augustus, via Vernacular Latin *Agust- > late British *Aɣust or *Awust, cf. Welsh Awst, the month of August. See I Williams (1952) at pp. 67-9, and cf. Coates in CVEP, pp. 54-5, on Aust Glo, but note Watts’s reservations, DEPN(C), p. 27. Such a personal name need not necessarily date the place-name formation to the post-Roman period, it could have been current much later. The Augustinian priory was established here around 1166: Williams loc. cit. thought this ‘a happy coincidence’, but it is not wholly impossible even at that date that a (dialectally northern) Cumbric-speaking community existed here, or was introduced in association with the foundation, and that *Awst here is a late Cumbric hypocorism for Augustine. If so, the other lanerc names, and other late Cumbric names in this area, could have been associated with the same foundation. See A. G. James (2008) loc. cit. and (2009a) loc. cit. Lanrechaithin Cmb (Burtholme) PNCmb p. 72, Lan Cart 6 and note + -ejthin: note the exceptional (but very early) –ch- in this record of c1170, replaced by –c- or –k- in subsequent records. Lanrecorinsan Cmb (Brampton?) Lan Cart 28 ? + ï[r]- ? + -ïnïs- + -an: see Breeze (2006c) at p. 326. Lanrekereini Cmb (Nether Denton) Lan Cart 49 ? + ï[r]- ? + -üwn (see *oɣn and Breeze (2006c) at p. 326), or + -*rieini, plural of *rijajn (which see; A. Walker, pers. comm.) Note that this is not a variant of Lanrechaithin as stated in PNCmb at p. 72: see Todd (2005) at p. 93 and p. 102 n37. 

 Lanrequeitheil Cmb (Burtholme) PNCmb p. 72, LanCart 149 ? + -cȩ:d- [+ OE –hyll > ‘hill’] A.

Walker, pers. comm., or + personal (saint’s?) name -Judhael, see *jǖδ and Breeze (2006c) loc.

cit.

c1) Barlanark Lnk (Shettleston) CPNS p. 356 + *baɣeδ-, which see.

c2) Caerlanrig Rox (Teviothead) CPNS p. 368, PNRox p. 6 + cajr-, which see. Macdonald in

PNRox prefers OE *lang-hryċġ, as ‘long ridge’ is appropriate here; if this is correct, cajr- must

be attributed to post-Northumbrian Cumbric-speaking (re-) colonisation. However, [-ŋ(h)r-] > [-

nr-] is not a regular development between Northumbrian Old English and early Scots.

Drumlanrig Dmf (Durrisdeer) + *drum-, which see.

Records for Panlaurig Bwk confirm that this was not -lanerc, see under laβar."

'Rhun', if considered in the context of Rhydderch's Strathclyde, can only be a reference to the 9th century Strathclyde king of that name.  Now, critics have claimed that Rhun's kingdom could not be that which appears in the Myrddin poem.  Why?  Because Myrddin was of the 6th century.  But these same critics forget that 'Yr Afallennau' is extant only in MSS. dated well after the reign of Rhun.  So by the time the poem was put to paper - regardless of any prior verbal transmission - the kingdom of Strathclyde might easily have been anachronistically called the land of Rhun in the medieval Welsh poem.

I thought to begin my search by looking for an actual apple tree place-name in the vicinity of Lanark.  The result of that search? There was a chapel associated with nearby Nemphlar called variously 'All men's apple tree" or "Old Man's apple tree."  Some rather dated books discuss this place, but the best information is to be found on more modern and very respectable Websites:

http://www.wosas.net/wosas_site.php?id=10265

https://canmore.org.uk/site/46641/nemphlar-church

The location of the chapel is shown only on the Roy maps of 1752-55:

The site of the apple tree chapel is near the Clyde, the chief river of the Kingdom of Strathclyde.  I take this to be the river mentioned in the 'Yr Afallennau.'

Alan James, a foremost expert in the Brittonic place-names of North Britain, has informed me that:

"Very helpful friends in the FB Scottish Place-Names group have come up with more on Nemphlar. The earliest record is a grant 1173x1214 by King WIlliam to the parish church of Lanark of the parish of Nemflare (sic in the rubric, in the text of the grant, Nenflare) 

There is no record of any Templar holding there, notwithstanding Chalmers (who gives no source), Alan Macquarrie has confirmed that."

I would hasten to add that very near where this apple tree chapel was said to have stood, there was a holy well.  It went by various names, but came to associated with St. Mary:

https://canmore.org.uk/site/46640/nemphlar-my-ladys-well

Why might this be important?  Because in Strophe 4 of 'Yr Afallennau', we are told that Myrddin "contended at its base [of the apple tree] in order to please a maiden." As the chapel of the apple tree and the holy well were very close to one another, it may be that the maiden in question was the pagan equivalent of Mary.

Lanark is the only place in Scotland to have an actual ancient church dedicated to St. Kentigern.  Other churches are always dedicated to his nickname, Mungo.

https://saintsplaces.gla.ac.uk/place.php?id=1335890004

Kentigern is elsewhere brought into connection with Merlin/Myrddin, and I have convincingly shown that this saint appears in the Welsh Myrddin poems as a certain Gwasawg (see http://mistshadows.blogspot.com/2017/07/slight-revision-of-merlinmyrddin.html). Gwasawg is the "supporter of Rhydderch" and thus an enemy of Myrddin, and is mentioned in the 'Yr Afallennau.'

This chapel of the apple tree is only some 15 kilometers as the crow flies from Myrddin's Tinto Hill (see http://mistshadows.blogspot.com/2018/02/ive-been-asked-to-post-my-study-on.html). Tinto is the "central mountain" of the Scottish Lowlands, at least in the scheme presented to us in the early Myrddin tradition.

Lastly, it would appear the Nemphlar region was quite famous for its apples.  From http://www.clydesdalesheritage.org.uk/clydesdales-heritage-an-overview/:

"Blaeu’s map of the Upper and Nether Wards of Clydesdale, based on Pont’s 1596 survey, shows a figure holding a basket of apples, a reference to the prosperous orchards of the Clyde Valley."

Nemphlar is in the Upper Ward. 

Given all of the above, I would put forward the proposal that Myrddin's apple tree in the Celyddon Wood of Lowland Scotland is none other than the All Men's Apple Tree/Old Man's Apple Tree chapel of Nemphlar in South Lanarkshire.

NOTE: Alan James has shared with me a possibly interesting derivation for the All Men's portion of the appletree name

"According to OPS (p. 119), Nemphlar, in the reign of King William the Lion (reign 1165 – 1214), seems to have had a church of its own, which, after its annexation by that king to Lanark, became a chapel dependent on the mother church. Its site was at East Nemphlar, probably at a spot called 'Alman's appletree'. Roy’s 1755 map records this spot as Allman’s Appletree, located near NS859446, where My Lady’s Well is now mapped.

The Nemphlar apple tree seems to be first recorded on Roy's map, at a time when apple cultivation was only starting to get going, and in enclosed gardens and orchards, so this would have been either a notable crab apple tree or, less likely, an even more exceptional planted one.

Simon Taylor notes: 1173x1214 the whole parish of Nemphlar and Cartlan was granted by King William to church of Lanark, and thereafter remained a pendicle of that church, which itself was annexed to Dryburgh Abbey (Dryburgh Lib. nos. 44-6; Retours nos. 325, 328). Cowan 1967, 154-5.

My (AJ) immmediate thoughts: those are helpful, if only in confirming a fair degree of consistency over 8 centuries or so - /n/ > /m/ is the only real phonemic-level change, and that's unsurprising before /f/.

Alman's Appletree is tantalising, it might just possibly have been a meeting-place (ON al-manna)."

Coming Soon: A NEW IDENTIFICATION OF MYRDDIN'S APPLE TREE IN LOWLAND SCOTLAND

I start writing full-time on this new title in a week or two...

A SCATTERING OF SONG

The first book in the Dark Avalon series

At the Battle of Ardd Gwrrith, Myrddin witnesses the destruction of his fellow warriors and the falling of his chieftain, Gwenddolau. Fleeing in what he believes to be madness from the scene of chaos and carnage, he seeks refuge in the fastness of the Caledonian Woods. Only with the passage of the seasons, during which he lives like an animal of the forest, pursued relentlessly by the hounds of his enemy, does he become aware of the true nature of his own altered state of existence. And with that awareness comes a terrible knowledge, a power undreamed of, and a strange intimacy with a woman of the wilds whose affinity with the Otherworld offers him both freedom and eternal imprisonment.

Note on the Title of this Book:

‘A Scattering of Song’ is my free translation of the Middle Welsh word gwasgargerdd, found in the poem “Gwasgardgerd Verdin”. Gerdd is ‘song, poem’, and gwasgar as a noun means scattering, dispersion, separation, a spreading abroad, division, a giving, distribution, and as an adjective, dispersed, scattered, shared, given, distributing, dispersing. I chose to see this as a song that was scattered, as one might scatter seed.

Indeed, a famous poet and contemporary of the 6th century Taliesin was named Cian Gwenith Gwawd, that is Cian ‘Wheat of Song’. This epithet suggested to me that a poem or song could be metaphorically described as something that was scattered like wheat. I would add that Gwion Bach turns himself into a grain of wheat. When consumed by the goddess Ceridwen (who has assumed the form of a tufted black hen), he is later born from her as Taliesin. This famous divine poet was, therefore, himself an embodiment of the ‘wheat of song’.

Other attempts have been made to render gwasgargerdd, but I do not think they work in the context of the prophetic poem uttered by Myrddin. As one manuscript calls the poem “Gwasgardgerd Vyrdin y ny bed”, “in the grave”, and the prophet is portrayed as speaking with his sister, Gwenddydd, who is presumably outside of the said grave, “Separation-Song” has been proposed. This does not seem to fit the range of meanings for gwasgar, which plainly has to do with the giving or distributing of something and does not indicate the separation of one person from another.

The Introduction and Appendix to My New Book THE KING OF STONEHENGE

The Kingdom of Modred

INTRODUCTION:

THE ENEMY OF ARTHUR THE BEAR KING

In my book THE BEAR KING: ARTHUR AND THE IRISH IN WALES AND SOUTHERN ENGLAND, I made my case for Arthur being the famous Cerdic of Wessex.  Cerdic, in turn, is none other than Ceredig, son of the Cunedda who came from Ireland (not Scotland near the head of the Firth of Forth) and settled in western Wales.  Some of Cunedda’s sons served as mercenaries or perhaps federates (in the old Roman sense) under the High King of Wales at Viroconium, modern Wroxeter.  Cerdic was one such.  The Gewissei, ‘the Sure or Certain Ones,’ owe their name to an English misinterpretation of Cerdic (found written also as Certic; cf. Latin certi, from certus, ‘sure, certain, reliable, trusty’).

The present title aims to be an exploration of the identity and nature of Arthur’s adversary.  My first clue as to who this might be came when I found a likely location for Camlann, the Bear King’s last and fatal battle, on the coast of Hampshire.  While I tentatively suggested that Camlann might be a Welsh attempt at the Cymenesora found listed as a battle site in the ANGLO-SAXON CHRONICLE, I tended to prefer – and still do – a shore on Portsmouth Harbour, whose earlier British name Camas could mean the same thing as Camlann, viz. ‘crooked shore.’  Cymenesora, based mainly on some charters, is usually placed somewhere in the vicinity of Selsey Bill (see Chapter Seventeen below).

Such a placement of Camlann not only fit the respective chronologies of the English and Welsh sources, but also the geography of Cerdic’s battles as these are found listed in the ANGLO-SAXON CHRONICLE.

Traditionally, the Medrawd who also died at Camlann has been viewed as Arthur’s opponent. Based solely on the entry for the battle in the WELSH ANNALS, we have no way of knowing if this is correct.  It is not until we explore the name Medrawd itself and compare it with another famous name of the period that we can determine what the actual relationship was between him and Arthur.

In 1996, I communicated with renowned Celticist Professor Oliver Padel of Cambridge.  I asked him if Medrawd, found as Modred in Cornish, could represent the Roman name Moderatus.  To my surprise, he said that he personally was satisfied that I had arrived at the right etymology for the name.  It was some time after this discovery that I happened to think of the description given to the legendary Dark Age war-leader Ambrosius Aurelianus in Gildas’s ON THE RUIN AND CONQUEST OF BRITAIN.

Ambrosius in that source is called “vir modestus”, a modest man.  Why might this be significant in the context of Medrawd/Modred/Moderatus? Because in Latin the words modestus and moderatus have essentially the same meaning.  And, in fact, both derive from the same root, modus.  To my knowledge no one had sought to make a connection between Ambrosius and Modred.  The reason for this is obvious: the two men are believed to have lived at different times and, indeed, to have belonged to different generations.

So, was it merely a coincidence that Ambrosius was called a modest man, something that made him sound suspiciously like Moderatus?

Well, this created an entirely new avenue for research.  Ambrosius has been a major problem for historians for some time.  I’d written rather extensively on his being a fanciful “import” to Britain, based on a look-alike personal name attached to Amesbury in Wiltshire.  Place-name experts are adamant that the Ambr preserved in OE Ambresbyrig (= Amesbury) is not an English form of Ambrosius.  Yet the Welsh certainly took it to be just that.

Ambrosius Aurelianus was a 4th century Roman Governor of Gaul and father of St. Ambrose.  There is no evidence whatsoever that he ever set foot in Britain. Therefore, when we see the name Ambrosius in the pages of Gildas or in subsequent sources like the HISTORY OF BRITAIN attributed to the monk Nennius, we must automatically ask ourselves either a) was the whole story of Ambrosius merely a propogandist fiction or b) might the name Ambrosius be masking another truly British name that was subsequently forgotten?

If no more than a propogandist fiction, we can make no more headway on discerning the role of Moderatus at Camlann.

On the other hand, if Ambrosius is an error for a British name found preserved in the English Ambr of Amesbury, a quite wonderful thing happens.

Only a couple of years ago, Arthurian scholar Nikolai Tolstoy in his THE MYSTERIES OF STONEHENGE proposed that Ambr owes its origin to a British form of the Gaulish personal name Ambiorix.  There exist some minor linguistic problems with this notion, of course.  To get around these objections, I myself proposed *Ambirix. The linguists admitted that this form was theoretically possible.

If Ambirix yielded Ambr, probably through British intermediary spellings, then the favored etymology of the personal name may relate directly to the Stonehenge monument near Amesbury.  For Ambirix might be ‘King of the [Round] Enclosure.’

Accepting for a moment that Amesbury was anciently the Fort of Ambirix, are we to assume that this was Moderatus’s British name?  Or was it a sort of title for whoever happened to be ruling from Amesbury?  Or was it simply the name of the founder of Amesbury?  Or was the King of the [Round] Enclosure an epithet for the god once worshipped at Stonehenge?

Not all of these ideas are mutually exclusive.  For instance, a sacred king ruling from Amesbury might well be referred to with the god’s epithet.  If he were viewed as a personification of the god, this would be quite a natural development.  Obviously, we must bear in mind that southern England was highly Romanized and Christianity would have been in full-swing at least up until the last withdrawal of the legions in the early fifth century.

The Welsh name for England – Lloeg(y)r – would support the contention that the South had remained Romanized. While various Celtic derivations have been sought for this word, it seems to me pretty clearly to be from the Latin genitive plural laicorum (m.)/laicarum (f.)/laicorum (n.), from laicus, “of or belonging to the people or laity, not priestly, not consecrated.”  If people living in the region concerned were laity, then they were Christian.  Not priests, but also not pagans. 

Granted, paganism could have returned to Amesbury or we could be dealing with nothing more than observation of a long-cherished local tradition, more or less stripped of its pre-Christian meaning.  Of course, Christianity did not so much exterminate paganism in Britain as it embraced it and transformed it. We have some good examples of Celtic saints who started off their evangelizing careers as local pagan deities.

Our earliest datable reference to Ambrosius is in the 9th century THE HISTORY OF BRITAIN.  There we are told Ambrosius fought a certain Vitalinus at the Wallop Brook (or Danebury Ring hard by? - see Chapter Nine below) in Hampshire.  The Wallop Brook is a very short distance south of Amesbury.  As I’ve elsewhere pointed out, the problem here is that Vitalinus is the name of Vortigern’s grandfather. A Vitalis was Vortigern’s father. The grandfather would have lived around the time of the Continental Ambrosius Aurelianus.

Vortigern (= Irish Fortchern) was half-British and half-Irish.  Vitalinus is a Latin substitute for his father’s name, Fedelmid.  Vitalis looks simply like a doublet.  If Fedelmid did fight at the Wallop Brook, that would be rather remarkable.  For it would prove that the Irish were active in the same region well before the Irish or part-Irish Ceredig son of Cunedda/Cerdic of the Gewissei showed up on the scene.

Note, also, however, the Fittledon (early forms Viteletone, Fitletone, Fitelton) just north of Amesbury.  This is supposedly from an OE personal name Fitela, but the place-name could have suggested to the author of THE HISTORY OF BRITAIN that Vitalis/Vitalinus had fought in the vicinity.  Or, just as feasibly, Fitela could be an OE attempt at Fidelmid or Vitalis.

We might now look at this as a kind of logical problem.  For if ‘Ambrosius’ – in realty, the King of the Round Enclosure from Amesbury – was fighting in the 4th or 5th centuries, and again in the 6th century, we are not talking about the same man.  Instead, what we have is a garbled record of rulers based at Amesbury fighting Saxons and their Irish or Hiberno-British allies for at least a couple of generations.

Moderatus would simply be the King of the Round Enclosure who happened to be fighting against Cerdic and who perished along with his enemy at Camlann in the 6th century.

But it would appear the resistance of the Amesbury kingdom did not end with the demise of Modred.  We will see below that this powerful line of rulers managed to stave off the invaders for another half a century.

AFTERWORD:

WHERE NEXT FOR ARTHURIAN STUDIES?

Once one has completed all possible research and put forward the best theory of which one can conceive, what remains to be done?

For Arthurian scholars, there are a limited number of stones that can be turned over.  In the academic world, there is resistance to acknowledging the existence of any evidence at all that might support the idea that Arthur was, in some sense, historical. And this stance is completely understandable – even if, at times, acutely frustrating and discouraging.  The few relevant early sources that either pertain to Arthur directly or to his floruit are scant, and these few documents have had their veracity seriously challenged by scrupulous analysis.  Archaeology, as demonstrated long ago by highly qualified experts like Leslie Alcock, can only show us so much.  It cannot reveal Arthur to us – unless we find a grave stone with his name on it from the right period.  And even then questions would arise as to whether the particular Arthur memorialized on the stone was the Arthur or merely an Arthur.

The problem of the scarcity of evidence is compounded by a plethora of invalid or nonsensical theories about who and what Arthur was and where he belonged.  The “monstrous regiment of Arthurs” is primarily a product of wishful thinking and self-aggrandizement.  New Age/neopagan or more traditional spiritual beliefs, nationalistic or ethnic biases, rebellious natures, stubborn conceit, pure willfulness, troll-like antagonism and all manner of flawed reasoning and personal foibles have contributed to untenable Arthurian theories supported by invalid arguments based on false premises.  For, as Montaigne said, “Nothing is so firmly believed as what is least known.”

In short, some stones should not be turned over. There is simply nothing underneath them, save perhaps imagination and folly. 

But could there still be some stones left over that are worth searching for?  Beyond a doubt.  Where to look for them?  Alas, I have no clue.
I’ve done my best to work with what I could gain access to.  And I’ve also tried desperately hard to remain honest with myself.  Along the way I’ve stood on the shoulders of many a giant – profoundly learned (and often wise) men who have earned sterling reputations in their respective fields of study.  These intellectual giants have often helped convert regular stones into stepping stones – and have sometimes helped me step across from one stone to the other.  I can’t claim that I haven’t more than once fallen into the waters of ignorance, dampened my feet in ego or splashed myself with embarrassment.   For the most part, though, the giants caught me when I slipped or had a stone unexpectedly tip beneath me.  They propped me up and provided me with much needed balance.

When in my book THE BEAR KING I set out to identify Arthur as Cerdic of the Gewissei, I did so only because the evidence – such as it was – propelled me inexorably in that direction.  In truth, I did not want to make such an identification.  Why not?

Because, like everyone else who fell in love with Arthurian romance at a young age, I wanted Arthur to be the shining hero who had saved Britain from the Saxon hordes and who then went on to be the king of the most chivalrous knights the world had ever seen.  Instead, the historical entity turned out to be something very different.  He was, admittedly, somewhat of a disappointment to me and I wrote at length a sort of apology for him.  If I were right, he was an Irish or Hiberno-British mercenary chieftain fighting for the High King of Wales in alliance with Saxons and/or Jutes against other Britons.  Such a portrait was a far cry from the King of Camelot. 

Yet, sometimes, finding something that one does not wish to find – and consciously desires to reject – is exactly that which must be retained. Sure, all legitimate efforts must be made to disprove it.  That is, after all, the scientific method.  But if in the end one can only refute a theory by an act rooted in self-delusion or emotional immaturity, or a need to protect an academic reputation, then that refutation must be considered unjustified.

The same kind of process played out in this work on Modred, only on a smaller scale.  I had long thought there may be some connection between Moderatus and the Ambrosius ‘vir modestus.’  But until I had pinned down the location of Camlann on the shore of Hampshire, this equivalency of persons had no apparent applicable value.  It was only when the two seemingly unrelated bits of information dovetailed so perfectly and I had more fully explored the various layers of the Dinas Emrys/Amesbury story that I came to realize the real hero I was always seeking may have been Arthur’s enemy.

As with Arthur/Cerdic the mercenary captain, I had not set out intentionally to either further erode Modred’s character or to repair it.  Certainly, no one in his right mind would choose to promote an “evil” Arthur and a “good” Mordred.  This kind of radical revision of a beloved legend does not hold the promise of commercial success.  It is not the road to fame and will never win over the hearts and minds of Arthurian enthusiasts. 

So why do it?  Why bother at all?

Well, I can only think of one reason: because it might accurately reflect a historical reality.  Oddly enough, it may in part be the sheer negative visceral response to such a theory that might, eventually, impart a stronger reason for subscribing to it.   The plausibility index can increase when distastefulness, outrage and ridicule wane and are replaced by appreciation and understanding.

Cherished fictions die hard.  It is often difficult to replace them with another version of the story that is not pretty or pleasing.  As the adage goes, “The truth can be a bitter pill to swallow.”

https://www.amazon.com/King-Stonehenge-Modred-Defense-Britain/dp/1724334190/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1532966235&sr=1-1&keywords=the+king+of+stonehenge