Eagles and Dragons series

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The World of The Stolen Throne- Part V – Annwn: The Celtic Otherworld

Salvete, readers and history-lovers!

Welcome to the fifth and final part in this blog series on The World of The Stolen Throne.

I hope you have enjoyed these posts about the research, history and myth that inspired the creation of this latest Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy novel. If you missed last week’s post about Tintagel Castle in Cornwall, you can check it out HERE.

As with all other books in the Eagles and Dragons series, The Stolen Throne has elements from ancient Greek and Roman religion and mythology. However, this book also delves into Celtic myth and legend which makes for an interesting addition to the series.

In Part V of The World of The Stolen Throne, we’re going to be taking a brief look at the realm of Annwn, the sort of place it was, and some of the more prominent traditions around it.

If you’ve already read The Stolen Throne, you will know that Annwn plays a large role in the story, but what exactly was this mysterious place that plays such a central and awe-inspiring role in Celtic tradition?

Let’s step into this otherworld to find out…

Elysium, or Aeneas Finding His Father at the Elysian Fields (Sebastiaen Vrancx, between 1597 and 1607)

In ancient Celtic mythology and religion, especially Welsh traditions, Annwn (pronounced ‘Ann-win’) is the Otherworld. Annwn is the faery world, a place similar to Elysium in ancient Greek and Roman traditions, or Paradise in Christianity. It is often a place of peace and plenty, there is no death, disease or hunger. It is a land of eternal youth.

In some traditions however, it can be a place of conflict, or a prison to outsiders. It is a land of mystery where all is not as it seems.

Arawn, Lord of Annwn, with his otherworldly hounds

There are two prominent lords of Annwn in ancient traditions: Arawn, and Gwyn ap Nudd.

And he [Pwyll] beheld a glade in the wood forming a level plain, and as his dogs came to the edge of the glade, he saw a stag before the other dogs. And lo, as it reached the middle of the glade, the dogs that followed the stag overtook it and brought it down. Then looked he at the colour of the dogs, staying not to look at the stag, and of all the hounds that he had seen in the world, he had never seen any that were like unto these. For their hair was of brilliant shining white, and their ears were red; and as the whiteness of their bodies shone, so did the redness of their ears glisten. And he came toward the dogs, and drove away those that had brought down the stag, and set his own dogs upon it.

And while he was setting on his dogs, he saw a horseman coming towards him upon a large light-grey steed, with a hunting horn round his neck, and glad in garments of grey woollen in the fashion of a hunting garb. And the horseman drew near and spoke unto him… ‘A crowned King am I in the land whence I come’… ‘Arawn, a King of Annwn am I’…

(Pwyll Lord of Dyfed, The Mabinogion; trans. Lady Charlotte Guest)

Arawn, Lord of Annwn, appears in the first branch of the Welsh Mabinogi, Pwyll, Lord of Dyfed.

Of the four branches, Pwyll, Lord of Dyfed is my absolute favourite. I have never tired of reading it since I first studied it in university. Not only is it full of magic, love, battles, monsters, and tales of honour and betrayal, but it’s also a perfect illustration of Celtic archetypes (you can read more about Celtic literary archetypes HERE.) Here is the story in brief:

Pwyll, a mortal man, is a lord of Dyfed who comes into contact with Arawn, a lord of Annwn, the Celtic Otherworld. The two become friends and switch places for a year so that Pwyll can help Arawn defeat a foe in his own world. Pwyll succeeds and becomes ‘Head of Annwn’. While he is away, Arawn rules justly and fairly in his place, and Pwyll’s subjects ask him to continue the good rule upon his return, which he does.

One of the purposes of the Mabinogi tales was to serve as teaching texts for Welsh princes, and the tale of Pwyll is a good example, for Arawn is an ideal lord whose actions instruct Pwyll in ideal rule.

Artist impression of Gwynn ap Nudd at the hunt

As Lord of Annwn, Gwyn ap Nudd, is different from Arawn. He is a darker figure in Celtic myth and legend who appears later in Arthurian traditions. He is the Faery King and Lord of Annwn. He is an Underworld god. However, he does not always remain in Annwn.

The time of year during which The Stolen Throne takes place is Samhain, the ancient Celtic new year, and what we know today as ‘Halloween’. Some of the ancient traditions around Samhain – a very sacred time of year – was the burning of bonfires to keep evil spirits at bay, the harvesting of hazelnuts and of apples, both fruits of the Otherworld. One fascinating tradition was apparently to peel apples and toss the peels over the shoulder or into a fire as offerings.

Samhain was a time when the veil between worlds was at its thinnest, and where strange things happened at borders or thresholds, those in-between places of the world. Fairies were believed to be abroad, taking captives before going to their winter barrows with them.

The Wild Hunt (1872) by Peter Nicolai Arbo

Gwyn ap Nudd was also believed to be abroad at Samhain as the doors of Annwn opened and he led the Wild Hunt across the land, terrifying the living with the sound of otherworldly hunting horns and the baying of his hounds.

There were several gates to Annwn, one of them being Glastonbury Tor, which we have looked at in a previous blog series. Forests also served as liminal spaces where one could go from the mortal to the immortal realm. However, it was not only the souls of the dead, or magical beings who could pass through these gates.

In the ancient traditions, though Annwn was the Otherworld or faery realm, it was possible for mortals to travel there in certain circumstances, and then return to the mortal world again, if they were lucky. The tale of Pwyll is the obvious example, but there are others.

The Book of Taliesin (Wikimedia Commons)

In Arthurian romance, there is a tradition of the wicked Melwas imprisoning Guinevere on Glastonbury Tor. Arthur rides to the rescue, attacks Melwas and saves Guinevere. This particular story mirrors an episode in Culhwch and Olwen, one part of the Welsh Mabinogi, in which Gwythyr ap Greidawl attempts to save Creiddylad, daughter of Lludd, whom he is supposed to marry, from Gwyn ap Nudd himself. 

Glastonbury Tor – Gateway to Annwn

Another even more fascinating Arthurian connection can be found in a pre-Christian version of the ‘Quest of the Holy Grail’, called the ‘Spoils of Annwn’ which was found in the ‘Book of Taliesin’. In this tale, Arthur and his companions enter Annwn to bring back a magical cauldron of plenty. 

… And before the door of hell

lamps burned.

And when we went with Arthur,

brilliant difficulty,

except seven

none rose up

from the Fortress of Mead-Drunkenness…

… Beyond the Glass Fortress they did

not see

the valour of Arthur.

Six thousand men

stood upon the wall.

It was difficult

to speak

with their sentinel.

Three fulness of Prydwen [Arthur’s ship]

went with Arthur.

Except seven

none rose up

from the Fortress of Guts…

(excerpt from The Spoils of Annwn, the Book of Taliesin; trans. Sarah Higley)

This is a fascinating and mysterious poem (you can read the full translation HERE). The debated location of the castle Arthur and his men lay siege to aside, we see here again that a voyage into Annwn is not one of peace or plenty, but of strife. There is a war between the worlds, no doubt encouraged by later Christian writers of Arthurian romance.

The Cauldron (E. Wallcousins, 1912)

There is an ancient tradition of heroes making a journey to the Otherworld or Underworld. It wasn’t just Herakles and Odysseus who did so. Pwyll and Arthur too journeyed there, and others. The tradition of mortals crossing into another realm for some feat of strength or adventure, or even a painful experience, is longstanding.

It is also supremely fascinating to write about.

Herakles captures Cerberus in the Underworld, wtih Hermes guiding him

And what of Lucius Metellus Anguis, the Roman who journeys into the mysterious land of Dumnonia in The Stolen Throne? What experiences await him in that place beyond the Romanized world? What happens when he comes face-to-face with the Lord of Annwn?

When Lucius sets off to help his friend regain his throne, he is, unlike other heroes, unaware of what awaits him. It is another stage of his own ‘hero’s journey’ that will change him forever.

The Stolen Throne is now available in e-book and paperback from all major on-line retailers. If you haven’t read any books in the Eagles and Dragons series yet, you can start with the #1 bestselling A Dragon among the Eagles for just 0.99! Or get the first prequel novel, The Dragon: Genesis, for free by signing-up for the newsletter HERE.

We hope you’ve enjoyed this blog series on The World of The Stolen Throne. If you missed any posts, or if you would like to read them all in one place, you can find the entire blog series HERE.

Thank you for accompanying us on this adventure and, as ever, thank you for reading.

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The World of The Stolen Throne- Part IV – Seaside Fortress: The Mystery of Tintagel Castle

Welcome back to The World of The Stolen Throne.

In Part III, we looked the Arthurian sites on Bodmin Moor that inspired part of The Stolen Throne. If you missed it, you can read that HERE.

In Part IV, we’re going to be taking a brief look at one of the major settings in The Stolen Throne. It is a place that is firmly entrenched in Arthurian myth and legend, but also in the history of Dumnonia itself. Let us visit the dramatic site of Tintagel Castle.

Aerial view of Tintagel Castle (photo: English Heritage)

And as he [Gorlois, Duke of Cornwall] was under more concern for his wife than himself, he put her into the town of Tintagel, upon the sea-shore, which he looked upon as a place of great safety… The king [Uther Pendragon], informed of this, went to the town where Gorlois was, which he besieged, and shut up all the avenues to it. A whole week was now past, when, retaining in mind his love to Igerna, he said to one of his confidants, named Ulfin de Ricaradoch: “My passion for Igerna is such that I can neither have ease of mind, nor health of body, till I obtain her: and if you cannot assist me with your advice how to accomplish my desire, the inward torments I endure will kill me.”—”Who can advise you in this matter,” said Ulfin, “when no force will enable us to have access to her in the town of Tintagel? For it is situated upon the sea, and on every side surrounded by it; and there is but one entrance into it, and that through a straight rock, which three men shall be able to defend against the whole power of the kingdom. Notwithstanding, if the prophet Merlin would in earnest set about this attempt, I am of opinion, you might with his advice obtain your wishes.”

(Historia Regum Britanniae, Geoffrey of Monmouth, Book 8, 19)

The words above are what set Tintagel Castle firmly on the map of Arthurian myth and legend, associating it the birth of the figure we have come to know as King Arthur.

If you have read the stories, or seen movies such as Excalibur, you will be familiar with this setting.

But what exactly was Tintagel Castle?

In The Stolen Throne, the latest novel in the Eagles and Dragons series, which takes place during the third century A.D., it is the ancestral seat of one of the main characters, a prince of Dumnonia. But was it in use at this time? What is the evolution of this mysterious place?

In this post, we’re going to look at Tintagel Castle itself, some of the remains and finds, and how archaeology has brought to light new and exciting theories about this fascinating place of myth and legend.

Modern footbridge from mainland castle court to Tintagel Rock (photo: CNN)

The name of Tintagel actually comes from the Celtic name ‘Din Tagell’, which means ‘Fortress of the Narrow Entrance’. Most believe that this refers to the mainland approach which was by way of a narrowed, defensible passage at first between embankments, and later through the medieval gatehouse.

Tintagel is located on the north coast of Cornwall in one of the most dramatic settings around. From the narrow part of the mainland that forms the approach, one had to cross a bridge high above a rocky chasm to reach the castle rock itself, which juts out into the sea. The castle sits 250 feet above the rough water.

This place was meant to be impenetrable, if not practical.

Site plan of Tintagel Castle (English Heritage)

Most of what is visible today, including the romantic ruins of the inner courtyard and great hall were built by Richard, Early of Cornwall after 1233. It has been suggested that as Tintagel was such a weatherbeaten and impractical place to build and live, Earl Richard may have done so only to maintain a connection with the prestige of its Arthurian past which was firmly believed at that time, a hundred years after Geoffrey of Monmouth’s medieval bestseller put Tintagel on the map.

The impressive medieval ruins include the mainland gatehouse and courtyard, the island courtyard and great hall, as well as a chapel, tunnel and walled garden on the summit of the plateau.

They are some of the most romantic ruins in Britain.

Romantic ruins of Tintagel’s Medieval castle

Despite the fact that Tintagel castle was a difficult place to build, with the slate foundations of the rock being constantly eroded by the lashing sea, it seems to have played an important part in Dumnonia’s history.

Before we get to the Arthurian connection, let’s discuss what might have been happening at Tintagel during the Roman period.

In The Stolen Throne, I had to take some poetic license when it came to the structures that were located on the castle rock. However, there was, it seems, activity at Tintagel during the Iron Age and years of the Roman occupation of Britain.

Tintagel, during the Roman period, was a small settlement on the very edge of the Roman Empire. It has been suggested that it may be the place known as ‘Durocornovium’, a place mentioned on a list of Roman roads (though a location near Swindon seems more likely).

Tintagel’s Castle rock visible from the opposite cliffs on landward side

Nevertheless, archaeologists believe that during the 3rd century A.D. a small village or settlement may have been established on the mainland facing the castle rock, around the area of the narrow approach to the island.

Tintagel was part of Dumnonia and seems to have received little attention from the Roman authorities based at Isca Dumnoniorum (modern Exeter). That is, until it was discovered that the land in Dumnonia was rich in tin, and mining operations began.

There was no Roman settlement at Tintagel, but a Roman road did pass nearby, presumably giving access to the mines and few forts located in that part of Britain. Further proof of the roads is available in the form of two Roman milestones to either side of Tintagel, on the mainland.

Roman stone in Tintagel’s Parish Church (Wikimedia Commons)

No Roman buildings have been found at Tintagel castle as yet, but it should be noted that only about 5% of the castle area has been excavated. Who knows what remains lie beneath the grass and soil of that windswept rock jutting out into the sea?

Despite the lack of buildings, some of the most exciting Roman finds to come out of the ground at Tintagel are a purse containing Roman coins and, more importantly, a huge quantity of Romano-British and Mediterranean pottery.

Stone disks used to seal amphorae, and ceramic sherds from Greek amphorae used for transporting wine and olive oil, found at Tintagel (photo from archaeology.org)

The amount of Mediterranean pottery discovered at Tintagel from the 3rd century to the Dark Ages is said to be a greater quantity than the total amount that has been discovered from all other Dark Age sites in Britain put together. It is believed that this points firmly to habitation at Tintagel castle in the third and fourth centuries A.D.

The presence of such prestige goods at Tintagel means not only that it was an important place for the rulers of Dumnonia, but also that it was an important place for trade on the sea routes from the continent to the western isles and northwest Britain.

View of Tintagel beach, the ‘Haven’, Merlin’s cave, the causeway and part of the castle

The sandy beach below Tintagel castle, known as ‘the Haven’, made it possible for ships to unload safely, but this was not the only place they could unload.

Farther away from the shore, clinging to the rocky sides of the island, the remains of a defended wharf have been discovered. This is known as the ‘Iron Gate’, and up the slope from this are the remains of Dark Age houses where huge amounts of broken pottery have been discovered, as well as Roman glass.

One cannot, however, speak of Tintagel castle and not think of the Arthurian legend. This is why most people visit Tintagel. As the supposed birthplace of King Arthur, as told by Geoffrey of Monmouth, it has an inescapable draw.

But what was here during the Dark Ages, that period between the departure of the Romans from Britain and the invasion of the Saxons.

Several Dark Age ruins have been discovered in excavations over the years on Tintagel rock, including the houses near the defended wharf, and a cluster of buildings on the northern end of the plateau overlooking the sea. However, as only 5% of Tintagel has been excavated, who knows what else remains to be found.

The summit plateau of Tintagel Castle

There is another problem however…

Erosion.

Over the centuries, Tintagel rock has been deteriorating due to weathering, and it is believed that some of the ruins from various periods of its habitation, including the Dark Ages, have fallen into the sea to be lost forever.

From what has been found and studied, however, what might the possible uses been? What was happening at Tintagel castle?

An early theory put forward by Dr. Ralegh Radford, who excavated the site in the 1930s, was that Tintagel was an early monastic settlement, perhaps established by St. Julian or St. Juliot one of the sons of the Dark Age Welsh king, Brychan, in the 5th century.

However, more recently, new theories have dismissed Radford’s monastic theory in favour of one that says Tintagel castle was the settlement of Dumnonia’s elite, the home of a king or ruler of some sort, as well as his entourage and war-band.

Artist impression of Dark Age Tintagel Castle (English Heritage)

This is supported by the pottery finds dating to the period and coming from places like North Africa and Greece which were still a part of the Roman Empire at that time. These luxury items – mainly wine, olives and olive oil – meant that a person of wealth with connections to Rome may have lived at Tintagel. Even if much of the rest of Britain had lost contact with the former Empire during the Dark Ages, Tintagel castle seems to have maintained ties.

With the discovery in 2016 of several Dark Age houses containing Mediterranean pottery and glass, and the finding in 2017 of a slate window ledge with Latin, Greek and Celtic writing, which dated to the 7th century A.D., it seems that Tintagel castle remained a busy and important place.

The ‘Artognou’ slate found at Tintagel Castle

In 1998 however, one of the most tantalizing artifacts to be found at Tintagel was a piece of slate with the name of ‘Artognou’ written upon it. As ever, the story of Tintagel castle comes back to its connection with Arthur.

And why not? Arthur is a powerful draw, a hero at the heart of Britain’s mythology and history.

Adam exploring the ruins of Tintagel Castle on a windswept day in February

As someone who has always loved tales of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, and who has focussed on Arthurian studies for most of his academic career, the Arthurian connection is what brought me to Tintagel in the first place as well.

For years, I had been dreaming of visiting this dramatic location where Merlin was supposed to have helped Uther Pendragon reach Igraine and conceive the once and future king of Britain.

When the opportunity to visit finally came, I jumped at the chance.

What was it like to finally arrive at Tintagel castle?

It was magical.

Postern gate approach to Tintagel Castle from cliffside

While living in Somerset, I decided to take a trip to Cornwall – a sort of Arthurian pilgrimage – during a rainy February. The landscape was no less dramatic than I had imagined, and there were very few tourists around.

In our car, we headed west from Exeter, skirting the northern edge of Dartmoor in the direction of Bodmin, the same as my Roman protagonist in the story.

Even then, the seeds of The Stolen Throne were bound to take subconscious root.

Driving through the landscape really was like driving through another world, especially when it came to Bodmin moor. We arrived at the village of Tintagel, checked into our B&B and went out straight away to find our destination.

The village of Tintagel on the mainland, with King Arthur’s Great Halls on the right.

It was strange walking there from the village, anticipatory and dreamy with the misty rain falling all around us. To our right, the lonely silhouette of the Camelot Castle Hotel stood silent sentry on the approach, at that time seemingly deserted.

There were very few people or cars around as we walked along Castle Road, the sound of the sea becoming more audible and then, there it was – Tintagel’s castle rock.

Interior ruins of Tintagel Castle

I had waited so long to see that place, I simply stood there staring at its beauty, its mythological wildness. What a setting! At that time, Lucius Metellus Anguis (my protagonist) was still in Africa and Rome (I had only written Children of Apollo at that point) but I knew that he would, someday, make his way there.

As we approached the castle, we decided to go down to the Haven first, led there by Castle Road and the Southwest Coastal footpath. From the beach we looked up at Tintagel Castle in awe. To attack the place would be sheer madness, but to live there perhaps more so.

Merlin’s Cave and the ‘Haven’ below Tintagel Castle

The sea was not calm, nor was it violent, but as we walked across the beach the gaping maw of Merlin’s Cave opened before us and the myths came alive at once.

I stood on that beach remembering the image I had seen of Merlin standing upon that beach with the baby Arthur at his feet.

Merlin finds Arthur (by Gustave Dore)

Now, I do believe there was a historical ‘Arthur’, but I also know that the history has been mythologized perhaps more than any other tale in western literature. However, as I stood there upon the beach, Merlin’s Cave before me, and the ruins of Tintagel Castle looming above my head, the line between history and legend definitely began to blur.

It was a magnificent feeling.

Sometimes, we need to let go of our thinking, to step out of the academic realm in order to feel, and in doing so, we experience history more fully, for tales were as much a part of our ancestors’ beliefs as fact, if not more so. They were facts!

Why did Earl Richard build the medieval castle in such an inconvenient place? Perhaps he too wanted to be a part of the myth and history that clung to the cliffs of Tintagel, to be close to Arthur and Merlin, to Mark, Tristan and Isolde…

Ruins of the medieval chapel at Tintagel Castle

The tide started come in and we were caught off guard by the water on the beach. Making a quick escape, we retreated from the Haven and began making our way up to the narrow entrance that gives Tintagel its name, to cross the bridge that soars over the chasm below.

We lingered in Tintagel’s most recognizable ruins for a time, the area of the medieval court and hall before carrying on along the path that wound its way up to the summit plateau, passing the remains of the Dark Age houses on the eastern slope above the Iron Gate’s wharf.

Outline of cliffside structures or houses dating to the Dark Ages on Tintagel rock

Once we reached the top, we were met with a broad, windswept expanse of green beneath an iron grey sky. We wandered around the northern ruins, remnants of the Dark Ages, and then took in the medieval chapel, garden, and tunnel.

But, at Tintagel, for me, it is the setting that is king, the story behind it all. As I stood in the middle of the plateau with my wife, taking in the site, the symphony of sound that was performed by the waves, wind and crying gulls, I let the place seep into me.

I’ve had few experiences like that, though I have been to many places.

In my mind, and in my writing in some way, shape or form, I’ve been back to Tintagel Castle many times since that moment when I stood in the middle of the summit plateau, near the spot where ancient kings of Dumnonia were crowned.

Remains of the medieval walled garden on Tintagel Castle

I felt something of what it was like to complete a pilgrimage. And that is what it was to me. History, myth and legend are, in a way, my own private religion.

Leaving the castle rock of Tintagel behind as we walked back to the village to immerse ourselves in the Arthuriana of King Arthur’s Great Halls, I didn’t feel the usual bittersweetness of leaving a place behind.

As we walked, I turned to look back one more time at Tintagel Castle and felt…well…complete.

Would that we could all feel so complete on our journey through the dark wood of this life.

Tintagel on the Cornish Coast (by William Trost Richards, 1879)

When it came time to write The Stolen Throne, my time at Tintagel flowed into the story as if I had visited only yesterday. I could not have imagined any other setting for that part of the Eagles and Dragons series.

Will my Roman protagonist ever return there? That remains to be seen, but in the annals of my mind, I shall return there often.

Thank you for reading.

For more information on Tintagel Castle, visit this website set up by English Heritage: https://www.english-heritage.org.uk/visit/places/tintagel-castle/history-and-legend/ 

The Stolen Throne is now available in e-book and paperback from all major on-line retailers. If you haven’t read any books in the Eagles and Dragons series yet, you can start with the #1 bestselling A Dragon among the Eagles for just 0.99! Or get the first prequel novel, The Dragon: Genesis, for FREE by signing-up for the newsletter HERE.

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The World of The Stolen Throne – Part III – An Ancient Landscape: Arthurian Sites on Bodmin Moor

Welcome back to The World of The Stolen Throne.

Last week, in Part II, we looked at the Roman presence in Cornwall and the few remains that have been discovered. If you missed that post, you can read it HERE.

In Part III, we are going to leave the world of Rome behind to explore the more mysterious past of ancient Cornwall – the Arthurian past.

The Stolen Throne, in a way, is a book of three worlds. It explores two of my own passions as an author and historian: Roman history, and Arthurian studies.

In fact, the novel and its setting was greatly influenced by Arthurian sites in Cornwall, as well as by Celtic mythology.

In this short post, we’ll be taking a brief look at some of the Arthurian sites in Cornwall that inspired some of the settings in this latest Eagles and Dragons novel.

Map from Arthurian Sites in the West (C. A. R. Radford and M. J. Swanton, University of Exeter Press, 1975)

My own love of Arthurian studies has been with me from the beginning. It captured my imagination as a child in the form of stories, and was the focus of my academic studies in later years.

Just as the land of Dumnonia (Cornwall) is a sort of liminal space in The Stolen Throne, the Dark Ages, or Arthurian period is, to me, a liminal space and time between the Classical and Medieval eras.

Some years ago, before moving back to Canada from Britain, I had the opportunity one rainy February to tour Cornwall for the first time. This was more than just a nice trip for me, it was a pilgrimage of sorts. I had dreamt of visiting several Arthurian sites in Cornwall for years, and when the chance came to do so, I jumped at it.

Roughtor, Bodmin Moor aerial view (photo: webbaviation.co.uk)

It was wintry and crisp when we left Somerset and drove through Devon that February, skirting the northern edge of Dartmoor and heading deeper into Dumnonia, just as the protagonists in The Stolen Throne did, leaving the world of Rome and Isca Dumnoniorum behind.

Cornwall was different, mild and misty. Rain began to fall and did not stop, and the landscape was like no other I had seen before.

The land cast a spell over me.

Cornwall is covered in ‘Arthurian’ sites, including early monastic settlements, memorial stones, earthworks and more, but the sites I wanted to visit most were concentrated on that wondrous landscape of Bodmin Moor, a place of grassland and downs where the horizon is pierced by rocky tors, formations that make it a world unto itself.

Rock formations on Stowe’s Hill – Granite tors on Bodmin Moor (photo: Gareth James)

Arthur is a part of the landscape here, of its historical and mythological DNA, with places named Arthur’s Chair, and Arthur’s Oven, or Arthur’s Bed. For an Arthurian enthusiast, Cornwall is one vast adventure or hunt upon the windswept moors.

One of the first places we sought was none other than Dozmary Pool.

Approach to Dozmary Pool

Dozmary Pool is one of the places in Arthurian tradition that is associated with Excalibur.

It is a tarn (a mountain lake) 900 feet above sea level, in the middle of Bodmin moor. Where it sits, surrounded by open grassland and hills, Dozary Pool is, perhaps, one of the most mysterious places I have ever been too.

No doubt that is due to the tales it has been cloaked in over the centuries. Local lore, for a long time, said that the pool was bottomless, until it dried up in 1859, but the place continued to be a place of mystery.

And you can feel it.

To the ancient Celts, pools were often sacred, the water spirits who watched over them to be respected, and feared. Offerings, sometimes in the form of weapons, were made at such pools.

There was one such offering that I had in mind as I parked my car and took the footpath to the shore of Dozmary Pool…

In Arthurian legend, at the end of the cycle, after the bloody battle of Camlann where Arthur receives his fatal wound, Sir Bedivere, at Arthur’s bidding, takes the sword Excalibur and throws it (after two attempts) into a body of water to return it to the Lady of the Lake.

In the ancient land of Dumnonia, Dozmary Pool is that lake.

Whether the story is true or not, as I approached the calm water of Dozmary Pool, I felt the spell of myth and legend grab hold of me in a way that I had never before experienced. I stood there, playing the scene over and over again in my head, of a battle-worn warrior standing at the edge of the water with his fallen king’s sword in his hand, gathering the courage to offer up Excalibur to the dark depths before him.

Sir Bedivere returns Excalibur to the lake (Andrew Lang, 1908)

Even as the rain beat down on me, I felt a sense of calm in that place as my eyes scanned the rippling surface and the line of the shore with the hills rising in the distance.

It was a lonely and beautiful place.

After some time, I turned to pull myself away, to carry on with my journey, and was met by a curious monster-of-a-horse (perhaps a shire or sport horse?) towering over me, seeming to stare down at me wondering what I was up to. I looked up at him, and reached to touch his neck. He leaned into me as I took one last look at the sacred pool spread out before us.

Dozmary Pool on Bodmin Moor, Cornwall

It was not easy to leave Dozmary Pool or my new friend behind, but there were other places to visit on my Arthurian pilgrimage. I walked back up the footpath where rain cascaded down and around me toward the pool. I turned again, one more time, to glimpse the water before getting in the car and driving away.

The next destination we sought could only be reached by a circuitous, 19 mile route across Bodmin, but it was one that I had longed to see for years.

It wasn’t a place where any great scene from Arthurian legend had taken place, such as at Dozmary Pool. However, from the images I had seen over the years, the setting called to me, as did the name of Arthur’s Hunting Lodge.

Arthur’s Hunting Lodge with remains of stone wall slabs visible

Also known as Arthur’s Hall, Arthur’s Hunting Lodge is a stone enclosure on Bodmin Moor near to Mount Pleasant, Garrow Tor, and Hawks Tor.

To visit this site, you need to park the car near St. Breward and take a foot path across the moor for a short distance.

The walk is magnificent.

This section of Bodmin Moor is crossed by an ancient highway dotted with markers in the form of short standing stones. As you walk, across it, there is a sort of thrumming in the air, just beneath the sound of the wind. It feels like history is speaking to you.

Standing stone on ancient trackway across Bodmin Moor

The setting for Arthur’s Hunting Lodge is magical, and the site itself fascinating.

Set in the middle of the moor, this rectangular structure has walls that are formed by great slabs of granite jutting out of the grass and moss-covered earth. It is 60 feet long and about 35 feet wide. The floor of the ‘lodge’ is also lined with granite slabs.

It is believed to have prehistoric origins, but was used over the centuries as a shelter or as a water reservoir upon the moor.

There are many similar sites associated with Arthur across Britain. Some may have links to the historical Arthur, and many may be the stuff of legend.

However, standing among the ruins of this ancient site, I could see how this ancient association with Britain’s greatest hero, in a land long-tied to him, could grab hold of the imagination.

Adam exploring Arthur’s ‘Hunting Lodge’ on Bodmin Moor

As the wind sang all around me in that isolated place, I could begin to see Arthur and his men resting here while hunting deer on the surrounding moorlands.

It is a place where one can leave the cares of the world behind.

And I can understand that…

How many times have you visited an ancient site and wished you could remain there in calm, comfortable silence with the past?

Arthur’s Hunting Lodge, for me, was such a place.

But as I stood beside the leaning stone slabs of the walls of the lodge, and looked to the rise in the land to the north called Arthur’s Downs, I knew I could not stay.

What I did not know is that one of the most poignant scenes in The Stolen Throne would later be set in that place.

Arthur’s Hunting Lodge on Bodmin Moor

The fight began and immense slaughter was done on both sides. The loses were greater in Mordred’s army and they forced him to fly once more in shame from the battlefield. He made no arrangements whatsoever for the burial of his dead, but fled as fast as ship could carry him, and made his way towards Cornwall.

Arthur was filled with great mental anguish by the fact that Mordred had escaped him so often. Without losing a moment, he followed him to that same locality, reaching the River Camblan, where Mordred was awaiting his arrival…

It is heartrending to describe what slaughter was inflicted on both sides, how the dying groaned, and how great was the fury of those attacking. Everywhere men were receiving wounds themselves or inflicting them, dying or dealing out death…

They [Arthur’s forces] hacked a way through with their swords and Arthur continued to advance, inflicting terrible slaughter as he went. It was at this point that the accursed traitor [Mordred] was killed and many thousands of his men with him…

Arthur himself, our renowned King, was mortally w0unded and was carried off to the Isle of Avalon, so that his wounds might be attended to. (Geoffrey of Monmouth, History of the Kings of Britain, xi,2)

Like many ancient myths and legends, the end of the Arthurian cycle is one of tragedy.

No matter how many times I read stories about Arthur and his knights, even though I know how it ends, I always hope that things will go differently, that Arthur will win out against the odds, that might will truly remain on the site of right.

But the story is a tragedy, and that is why a part of me approached the next site on our itinerary with some trepidation.

Ten miles to the north of Arthur’s Hunting Lodge lies Slaughterbridge, one of the possible sites of the Battle of Camlann, Arthur’s last battle.

Field at Slaughterbridge, possible site of the Battle of Camlann, with Bodmin Moor beyond

It is difficult to explain to someone how a story linked to a place for so long can affect you so deeply, even though the connection may be disputed.

However, when I say that I felt a great sadness approaching the field of Camlann at Slaughterbridge, know that I am serious.

Slaughterbridge and the battlefield of Camlann are located at a crossing over the river Camel, near the village of Camelford.

After passing through the small Arthurian centre that is on site, you come onto a broad meadow that is thought to be the site of the early sixth century battle of Camlann. As I was there in February, no one else was present, and so I could roam about that dread place at my leisure, allowing it to sink into me.

The River Camel where it runs through Slaughterbridge

When John Leland, the Tudor antiquarian, visited here in the sixteenth century, he was told by locals that pieces of armour, rings, and brass horse harness were often found around the site.

Archaeologists in more recent years have found no such things, but there is one artifact at Slaughterbridge that ties the site to the Arthurian period.

As you walk down the slope of the hill toward the trees, you come to the river Camel where it is hidden at the bottom of a small valley.

The screams of the dead and dying men at Camlann, where the water is supposed to have turned red with their blood, have been replaced by an eerie silence. However, when you stand upon the wooden platform looking down on the gurgling river below, you can see the nine foot long ‘Arthur Stone’, a commemoration of the Battle of Camlann.

The River Camel at Slaughterbridge with the ‘King Arthur Stone’ at the bottom left

This is an interesting artifact for upon it is a Latin inscription commemorating one Latinus, son of Magarus.

The stone is not in situ, but was moved here from nearby, long ago. At one point, a confused translation led others to believe that the inscription was dedicated to ‘Atry’, or ‘Arthur’.

Though the inscription may cause confusion, the stone does indeed date to the approximate time of the Battle of Camlann, circa A.D. 537.

The Battle between Arthur and Mordred (by William Hatherell)

As I made my way across the deep green meadow of Camlann toward the dark trees that shielded the river from the world, I could see and hear the grisly sounds of Arthur’s last battle. The cries of dying men and horses filled my mind, perhaps as it did for Geoffrey of Monmouth, John Leland, Richard Carew, and later Alfred Tennyson, when they too came to that battlefield in their own times.

Did Arthur and Mordred fight their final battle here at Slaughterbridge? Was this the site of that fateful Battle of Camlann?

We will never know for certain, but for so long this place has been linked to Arthur’s end, has formed the setting for that end, that you cannot help but feel a great sadness standing there, looking down at the flowing water beneath the dark trees, and staring at the sad memorial stone of a long-dead warrior.

The Death of King Arthur (John Garrick, 1862)

Like the other sites I had visited on my Arthurian pilgrimage in Cornwall, this place too would play a role in The Stolen Throne. The water of the river Camel is that liminal space where Lucius Metellus Anguis finds himself taken, a place where everything changes…

In a way, I am still haunted by my visit to Slaughterbridge.

As I left the battlefield behind, I knew I had had my fill of that bleeding piece of earth, the trees, and the water that had once run in crimson rivulets.

I turned toward the last of my destinations on that journey, the place where Arthur was supposed to have come into the world at the beginning of his life… I turned with hope toward Tintagel Castle.

Stay tuned for Part IV in The World of the Stolen Throne when we will look at the history, archaeology and legend of one of the main settings in The Stolen Throne – Tintagel Castle.

The Stolen Throne is now available in e-book and paperback from all major on-line retailers. If you haven’t read any books in the Eagles and Dragons series yet, you can start with the #1 bestselling A Dragon among the Eagles for just 0.99! Or get the first prequel novel, The Dragon: Genesis, for FREE by signing-up for the newsletter HERE.

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The World of Isle of the Blessed – Part VII – The Severan Invasion of Caledonia: Victory or Failure?

In the midst of the emperor’s distress at the kind of life his sons were leading and their disgraceful obsession with shows, the governor of Britain informed Severus by dispatches that the barbarians there were in revolt and overrunning the country, looting and destroying virtually everything on the island. He told Severus that he needed either a stronger army for the defence of the province or the presence of the emperor himself. Severus was delighted with this news: glory-loving by nature, he wished to win victories over the Britons to add to the victories and titles of honour he had won in the East and the West. Be he wished even more to take his sons away from Rome so that they might settle down in the soldier’s life under military discipline, far from the luxuries and pleasures of Rome. And so, although he was now well advanced in years and crippled with arthritis, Severus announced his expedition to Britain, and in his heart he was more enthusiastic than any youth. During the greater part of the journey he was carried in a little, but he never remained very long in one place and never stopped to rest. He arrived with his sons at the coast sooner than anyone anticipated, outstripping the news of his approach. he crossed the channel and landed in Britain; levying soldiers from all the areas, he raise a powerful army and made preparations for the campaign.

(Herodian, History of the Empire, XIV,1-3)

Welcome to the seventh and final part in The World of Isle of the Blessed.

In Part VI, we looked at the mystery of decapitated Roman bodies found in York, and how they may relate to Caracalla’s rampage upon taking the imperial throne after the death of his father, Emperor Septimius Severus. If you missed that post, you can check it out HERE.

In Part VII, we are going to be looking at Severus’ Caledonian campaign that is the focus of Warriors of Epona (Eagles and Dragons – Book III) and the newest release in the series, Isle of the Blessed.

Marching Legions (Wikimedia Commons)

First of all, why did Septimius Severus march on Caledonia? The main reason most often given by the sources is that it was something he thought would give his unruly sons, Caracalla and Geta, focus. It was something to train them for the role of emperor. Severus was a big believer in the importance of nurturing the loyalty of the legions, and so perhaps he also hoped his sons would prove themselves and, in the process, earn that loyalty.

But there had to be more to it than a training exercise for his delinquent boys.

Severus’ Caledonian campaign was enormous. He moved on Caledonia with at least three full legions (the II Augusta, the VI Victrix, and the XX Valeria Victrix) as well as greater numbers of detachments and auxiliary units. When Septimius Severus took the imperial throne, he was immediately engaged in consolidating the Empire after the civil war, and then taking on the Parthian Empire. He was a military emperor, and he knew how to keep his troops busy, and how to reward them.

The Caledonians had been a thorn in Rome’s side for a long while at that time, but it was not until A.D. 208 that Severus was finally able to deal with them. And so, the imperial army moved to northern Britannia, poised to take on the Caledonians once again.

We’ve already touched on Severus’ campaign in The World of Warriors of Epona blog series. However, it’s important to note that this is believed to be the last real attempt by Rome to take a full army into the heart of barbarian territory.

Severus moved on the Caledonians with the greatest land force in the history of Roman Britain, making use of his predecessors’ fortifications (such as the Gask Ridge frontier) and roads, and penetrating almost as far as Agricola’s legions over a hundred years before.

The war may have been an opportunity to train and discipline Severus’ sons, but it seems evident that the true intention of the Caledonian campaign was to put a stop to the rebellious behaviour of the Caledonii, Maeatae and other Caledonian tribes.

Severus’ ultimate goal was the complete and permanent conquest of Caledonia.

Severan Campaigns in Caledonia (Wikimedia Commons)

There are two principal races of the Britons, the Caledonians and the Maeatae, and the names of others have been merged in these two. The Maeatae live next to the cross-wall which cuts the island in half, and the Caledonians are beyond them. Both tribes inhabit wild and waterless mountains and desolate and swampy plains, and possess neither walls, cities, nor tilled fields, but live on their flocks, wild game, and certain fruits; for they do not touch the fish which are there found in immense and inexhaustible quantities. They dwell in tents, naked and unshod, possess their women in common, and in common rear all the offspring. Their form of rule is democratic for the most part, and they are very fond of plundering; consequently they choose their boldest men as rulers. The go into battle in chariots, and have small, swift horses; there are also foot-soldiers, very swift running and very firm in standing their ground. For arms they have a shield and a short spear, with a bronze apple attached to the end of the spear-shaft, so that when it is shaken it may clash and terrify the enemy; and they also have daggers. They can endure hunger and cold and any kind of hardship; for they plunge into the swamps and exist there for many days with only their heads above water, and in the forests they support themselves upon bark and root…

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History 12,1)

It seems that Severus knew the Caledonian campaign would not be easy, for this was a huge offensive with a lot of military might behind it. However, one has to wonder if they knew what to expect. The Caledonii and the Maeatae were smart fighters. They knew their terrain, and their strengths. But they also knew Rome’s strengths, and so refused meet the legions in a pitched battle.

The result? A brutal guerrilla war.

…as he [Severus] advanced through the country he experienced countless hardships in cutting down forests, levelling the heights, filling up swamps, and bridging rivers; but he fought no battle and beheld no enemy in battle array. The enemy purposely put sheep and cattle in front of the soldiers for them to seize in order that they might be lured on still further until they were worn out; for in fact the water caused great suffering to the Romans, and when they became scattered, they would be attacked. Then, unable to walk, they would be slain by their own men, in order to avoid capture, so that a full fifty thousand died.

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History 14,1)

The Highlands of Caledonia

Severus’ Caledonian campaign was actually carried out in two phases. The first, explored in the novel Warriors of Epona, actually ended in a peace treaty in which Dio tells us that Severus “forced the Britons to come to terms, on the condition that they should abandon a large part of their territory.”

If Dio’s horrific number of fifty-thousand Roman casualties is to be believed (remember, ancient sources are often prone to exaggeration), then the Caledonii must have suffered even greater losses if they agreed to the terms.

It is here that one of the strangest episodes of the campaign occurred, though it had nothing to do with actual fighting, or the Caledonians.

On another occasion, when both [Severus and Caracalla] were riding forward to meet the Caledonians, in order to receive their arms and discuss the details of the truce, Antoninus [Caracalla] attempted to kill his father outright with his own hand. They were proceeding on horseback, Severus also being mounted, in spite of the fact that he had somewhat strained his feet as a result of his infirmity, and the rest of the army was following; the enemy’s force were likewise spectators. At this juncture, while all were proceeding in silence and in order, Antoninus reined in his horse and drew his sword, as if he were going to strike his other in the back. But the others who were riding with them, upon seeing this, cried out, and so Antoninus, in alarm, desisted from his attempt. Severus turned at their shout and saw the sword, yet he did not utter a word, but ascended the tribunal, finished what he had to do, and returned to headquarters.

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, 14,3)

When they had returned to base, Severus apparently chided his son before Castor, his freedman, and Papinianus, the Praetorian Prefect, both men whom Caracalla hated and who would later feel his wrath.

Ruins of Roman York – historic photo of the multiangular tower

It would seem that Septimius Severus, during the Caledonian campaign, was fighting a war on two fronts in a way – one in the glens and forests of Scotland, and the other at home. If the emperor was hoping that the campaign would bring his two sons closer together, he was wrong in that assessment. With Geta running the imperial administration in Eburacum (York) and Caracalla leading the troops in Caledonia, it seemed the rift between them was growing wider and wider.

After the treaty with the Caledonians was settled, Septimius Severus, growing more and more ill and infirm, returned to Eburacum. It was during this time that Caracalla is supposed to have tried to get his father’s doctors to speed  his demise, an act they refused to do at their own peril.

It was not long, however, before the Caledonians and Maeatae broke the treaty and the drums of war began to thrum once again. It is the second, bloody portion of the Caledonian campaign that takes place in Isle of the Blessed.

Cassius Dio quotes the ailing emperor’s words when he discovered that the Caledonians and Maeatae had broken the truce:

When the inhabitants of the island again revolted, he summoned the soldiers and ordered them to invade the rebels’ country, killing everybody they met; and he quoted these words:

“Let no one escape sheer destruction,

No one our hands, not even the babe in the womb of the mother,

If it be male; let it nevertheless not escape sheer destruction.”

When this had been done, and the Caledonians had joined the revolt of the Maeatae, he began to make war upon them in person. While he was thus engaged, his sickness carried him off on the fourth of February, not without some help, they say, from Antoninus.

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, 15,1)

Artist impression of Roman cavalry ala engaging Caledonians (illustration by Sean O’ Brogain)

The Romans began visiting brutal retaliation upon the enemy then, but all ground to a halt with the death of Emperor Septimius Severus at York.

It is at this point that Caracalla and Geta became co-rulers. However, Their primary objective now was to return to Rome and garner support.

The brothers, despite the hope of their parents, tutor, and others, were anything but harmonious.

Caracalla began gathering support and power unto himself, and it is at this time that he carried out the bloody killings hinted at by the discoveries at York we heard about in Part VI of this blog series.

One of the beheaded York Romans (Photo: York Archaeological Trust)

After the death of Septimius Severus, the Caledonian campaign came to an abrupt end:

Antoninus [Caracalla] assumed the entire power; nominally, it is true, he shared it with his brother, but in reality he ruled alone from the very outset. With the enemy he came to terms, withdrew from their territory, and abandoned the forts; as for his own people, he dismissed some…and killed others…

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, 11,1)

The Severan invasion of Scotland was a massive campaign, involving hundreds of thousands of men. It was not nearly as large as his successful Parthian campaign in which he led thirty-three legions east, but it was one of the largest Roman operations on British soil.

50,000 Roman dead.

And how many more Caledonian and Maeatae casualties?

If Cassius Dio is correct, the numbers are staggering.

But was the campaign a victory or a failure for Rome? Was it worth it?

Severus had not only wished for the complete and permanent conquest of Caledonia, but also for the war to give his sons discipline, for it to bring them close together.

Perhaps Severus also wanted to add one more battle honour to his name – ‘Britannicus’?

If we are to believe Cassius Dio and Herodian, our primary sources for this period, we must conclude that Severus’ Caledonian campaign was more of a failure, not because Rome lost on the field of battle – indeed, despite the loss of life, they brought the tribes to their knees temporarily – but because the finalizing of the campaign was left in the hands of incapable heirs whose only concern was to return to Rome and gather power, heirs who continued to hate each other.

How many possible victories in history have been wasted in a greedy aftermath?

Roman re-enactors (Historic Scotland)

Caracalla and Geta abandoned Caledonia and returned to Rome with destruction and bitter enemies in their wake.

The forts of the Gask Ridge, the would-be northern capital of Horea Classis, and the Antonine wall, Trimontium and other forts were abandoned and silent once more. Rome’s allies in the fight, mainly the Votadini, were left to their own defences yet again.

The Caledonians and Maeatae had been paid off, and may have been quiet for a time, but they would rebel again…and again.

And so the cycle of powerful men wasting the lives of loyal troops in foreign wars echoes through history without end. And the same goes for the pain and suffering on both sides of any conflict.

The Severan invasion of Caledonia was just another such conflict.

And for the characters in Isle of the Blessed, the scars of that conflict will be long-lasting indeed.

Thank you for reading.

We hope you have enjoyed this blog series on The World of Isle of the Blessed. If you missed any of the posts, or would like to read them again, you can read the entire blog series by CLICKING HERE.

 Isle of the Blessed (Eagles and Dragons – Book IV) is available in e-book and paperback in most major on-line retailers HERE.

If you haven’t read any books in the Eagles and Dragons series yet, you can start with the #1 bestselling A Dragon among the Eagles for just 0.99! Or get the first prequel novel, The Dragon: Genesis, for FREE by signing-up for the newsletter HERE.

Stay tuned for our next blog series about Book V in the Eagles and Dragons series, The Stolen Throne (available now).

The history, archaeology and mythology continue, and we’re thrilled to have you along for the ride.

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The World of Isle of the Blessed – Part VI – Mass Murder in Roman York

After his father’s death, Caracalla seized control and immediately began to murder everyone in the court; he killed the physicians who had refused to obey his orders to hasten the old man’s death and also murdered those men who had reared his brother and himself because they persisted in urging him to live at peace with Geta. He did not spare any of the men who had attended his father or were held in esteem by him.

(Herodian, History of the Empire, XV-4)

Thus began the reign of Marcus Aurelius Severus Antoninus Augustus, the emperor more commonly known as Caracalla.

Welcome back to The World of Isle of the Blessed, the blog series in which we look at the research that went into the creation of the latest Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy novel.

In Part V, we looked at the death of Emperor Septimius Severus in York. If you missed that post, you can read it HERE.

In Part VI we are going to explore the immediate aftermath of Severus’ death, and how a mysterious archaeological discovery gives some interesting clues about the bloody beginning of Caracalla’s reign.

Septimius Severus and Caracalla (painting by Jean-Baptiste Greuze; Department of Paintings of the Louvre)

It could be argued that the death of Septimius Severus in York (Roman Eburacum) in A.D. 211 was one of the most pivotal moments in Rome’s history, that it was perhaps the beginning of the end for the Empire.

Severus had always been a strong leader who had decisively won out over his opponents in the civil war, who had conquered the Parthian Empire, and perhaps most importantly, had nurtured the loyalty of the legions.

As Cassius Dio tells us, one of the final pieces of advice to both of his sons was to “be harmonious, enrich the soldiers, and scorn all other men.”

But harmony between his sons and heirs, Caracalla and Geta, was something that would never come to be. As explored in Killing the Hydra (Eagles and Dragons Book II), after the death of Plautianus, Severus’ previous, traitorous Praetorian prefect, the two brothers were constantly at odds, running amok in Rome.

That was one of the reasons the sources give for the Caledonian campaign, that it was to give his sons a sense of purpose.

Gold aureus portraying Caracalla (as ‘Augustus’) and Geta (as ‘Caesar’)

His belief in his sons, especially in Caracalla, might have been Severus’ fatal flaw when it came to the health of the Empire. Dio tells us “he had often blamed Marcus [Aurelius] for not putting Commodus quietly out of the way and that he had himself often threatened to act thus toward his son [Caracalla]”.

But Severus erred and made the same mistake as Marcus Aurelius, and set his son upon the imperial throne. Only this time, there were two heirs, and if one thing is certain, imperial power was never easily shared.

Caracalla was obsessed with securing power…

When Septimius Severus finally passed away in Eburacum, (Roman York) on February, A.D. 211, Caracalla made his bid to secure power immediately.

As have other rulers in Rome’s history, he began by eliminating his perceived enemies, those who posed an immediate threat.

This did not include his brother Geta at first, for Geta was also well-loved by the men of the legions as Severus’ son, and Caracalla needed the legions’ loyalty.

Others were not so fortunate.

As Herodian tells us in the quote above, Caracalla began to “murder everyone in the court”.

But how and where did he do this?

In the early 2000s, a gruesome discovery beneath a patio in York hints at what might have happened. 

Headless bodies discovered in York (photo by York Archaeological Trust)

What this archaeological discover entailed aligns well with what we are told of Caracalla’s bloody start to his reign, and hints at the madness or paranoia that already had a hold on the young emperor.

As it turns out, the discovery in York entailed the burials of over 30 male skeletons, all of them between the ages of twenty and forty.

The strange thing about these skeletons was that they were all decapitated…executed. And they date to the beginning of Caracalla’s reign.

The heads of the bodies were places in strange positions – some by the feet or between the legs and some face down. There are even two skeletons in which the heads were exchanged, the one put with the other.

Archaeologists at work in York (photo: York Archaeological Trust)

Ancient Romans took death and burial seriously, but in this instance there is little respect shown to the skeletons.

From the forensic evidence, experts believe that these men were executed by beheading.

Some of the bones display horrific injuries too. A few show a single, clean cut through the vertebrae of the neck, but others show a brutal end with one skeleton displaying eleven separate cuts to the neck on all sides, plus a massive head trauma.

Praetorian officers

So, who were these men that Caracalla would strike so brutally at them?

The theories vary, but it seems likely that most of them were Praetorians who had been loyal, not only to his father, but to Papinianus, the Praetorian Prefect. These were men Caracalla felt he did not have their loyalty. But there were possibly others among the slain.

It is quite possible that among the dead are the remains of the doctors who refused to help speed the emperor’s passing when requested by Caracalla. Also, Severus’ loyal freedman, Castor, is a possible victim, for he was often at odds with the young Caesar and had Severus’ confidence. Another who had helped to rear Caracalla and Geta, and who is said to have often annoyed the former, was their tutor, Euodus. Was he also among the decapitated dead?

One of the decapitated bodies found as if thrown unceremoniously into the ‘grave’ (photo: York Archaeological Trust)

Whoever the victims of this massacre in Roman York were, they had incurred Caracalla’s anger in some way, and he made them pay for it before dumping their mangled corpses in a cemetery outside the walls of the city.

In Isle of the Blessed, this horrific event is one of the more grisly episodes in a history that, quite frankly, you just can’t make up.

Often, history is unbelievable, and when turning it into fiction, the stakes have to be raised.

So, what happens to the protagonist, Lucius Metellus Anguis, during Caracalla’s rampage in Isle of the Blessed?

You have to read the story to experience it for yourself.

Thank you for reading.

To learn more about the Severan invasion of Scotland as well as the archaeological discovery of the decapitated bodies at York, be sure to watch the Timewatch documentary below.

Tune in next week for the sixth post in The World of Isle of the Blessed when we will take a brief look at the Caledonian campaign and wether it was indeed a victory or not.

Isle of the Blessed is now available in e-book and paperback formats on major retailers. CLICK HERE to learn more.

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The World of Isle of the Blessed – Part V – The Death of an Emperor

We are past the midway point in this blog series on The World of Isle of the Blessed in which I share the research that went into the creation of the latest Eagles and Dragons release.

I hope you’ve enjoyed it so far!

Last week in Part IV, we looked at the imperial court of Severus and the main players who would have been present in Eburacum during the Caledonian campaign. If you missed it, you can check it out HERE.

In Part V, we’re going to be taking a brief look at one of the pivotal moments in Rome’s history: the death of Emperor Septimius Severus.

Septimius Severus

Severus, seeing that his sons were changing their mode of life and that the legions were becoming enervated by idleness, made a campaign against Britain [Caledonia], though he knew that he should not return…

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, 11-1)

In Warriors of Epona (Eagles and Dragons, Book III), Septimius Severus and his sons, Caracalla and Geta, arrive in Britannia for the invasion of Caledonia, and the sources tell us that this was partially to occupy the two sons who were running rampant in Rome after the execution of the Praetorian Prefect, Gaius Fulvius Plautianus. You can read more about the invasion of Caledonia HERE.

However, Severus had been ill for many years, mainly from gout, and perhaps arthritis. But he was a tough specimen, a man who had come out the victor in the previous civil war against Pescennius Niger and Clodius Albinus, and then as emperor had been victorious against the Parthian Empire. After the civil war, Severus brought a period of strength and stability to the Empire that saw its borders at their greatest extent and his power almost absolute, due to the strength and loyalty of the army.

Severus constantly looked to the stars…

One interesting fact about Septimius Severus and his supremely intelligent empress, Julia Domna, was that they were great believers in astrology and the messages the gods inscribed on the stars regarding their fates. Their astrologer was consulted in all things and went wherever they went.

It is for this reason, it is believed, that when the emperor set out for Caledonia, he knew that he would not see Rome or Leptis Magna, his north African home, again.

He knew this chiefly from the stars under which he had been born, for he had caused them to be painted on the ceilings of the rooms in the place where he was won’t to hold court, so that they were visible to all… He knew his fate also by what he had heard from the seers; for a thunderbolt had struck a statue of his which stood near the gates through which he was intending to march out and looked toward the road leading to his destination, and it had erased three letters from his name. For this reason, as the seers made clear, he did not return, but died in the third year. He took along with him an immense amount of money.

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, 11-1)

The Caledonian campaign began in A.D. 208. About three years later, Emperor Septimius Severus did indeed die at Eburacum (modern York) on February 4th, A.D. 211.

It seems the seers and astrologers had been correct.

Roman York around A.D. 210. Construction of the interval tower by Tracey Croft. (Historic England)

During the Caledonian campaign, Eburacum had been the administrative capital for the imperial court. Severus’ son, Geta took care of administration, while Caracalla and his father carried on with military actions against the Caledonians and Maeatae in the North.

However, due to Severus’ ill health, he was forced to return to Eburacum to await the arrival of those stars under which he knew he was to expire.

Herodian, the other historian for the period, gives us his account:

Now a more serious illness attacked the aged emperor and forced him to remain in his quarters; he undertook, however, to send his son out to direct the campaign. Caracalla, however, paid little attention to the war, but rather attempted to gain control of the army. Trying to persuade the soldiers to look to him alone for orders, he courted sole rule in every possible way, including slanderous attacks upon his brother. Considering his father, who had been ill for a long time and slow to die, a burdensome nuisance, he tried to persuade the physicians to harm the old man in their treatments so that he could be rid of him more quickly. After a short time, however, Severus died, succumbing chiefly to grief, after having achieved greater glory in military affairs than any of the emperors who had preceded him. No emperor before Severus had won such outstanding victories either in civil wars against political rivals or in foreign wars against barbarians. Thus Severus died after ruling for eighteen years, and was succeeded by his young sons, to whom he left an invincible army and more money than any emperor had ever left his successors.

(Herodian, History of the Empire, XV 1)

Imperial Family – The Severans

The death of Septimius Severus is a crucial moment in Isle of the Blessed, and indeed in the entire Eagles and Dragons series.

I have been writing about this fascinating emperor for a long time, since Parthia, and then, as the stars loomed above him, as his day of death appeared on the horizon, it was time to explore his thinking toward the end.

How difficult it must have been for such a strong individual to face his end? After winning, creating, and ruling a vast, thriving empire, how could he deal with saying goodbye to it all?

It was a privilege to write about it in Isle of the Blessed.

The research into Severus’ death was also fascinating. Cassius Dio gives some details:

…his body, arrayed in military garb, was placed upon a pyre, and as a mark of honour the soldiers and his sons ran about it; and as for the soldiers’ gifts, those who had things at hand to offer as gifts threw them upon it, and his sons applied the fire. Afterwards his bones were put in an urn of purple stone, carried to Rome, and deposited in the tomb of the Antonines. It is said that Severus sent for the urn shortly before his death, and after feeling of it, remarked: “Thou shalt hold a man that the world could not hold.”

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, 15, 2)

One can imagine Severus, staring at the stars he had had painted everywhere, and at the stone urn that would hold his remains, but my research into the death of this great emperor of Rome led me to something even more fascinating.

The funeral pyre of Septimius Severus was said to have been the largest pyre ever to be seen in Britannia.

But what did such a thing look like? Where in Eburacum could it have been located?

Numismatology, the study of coinage, has been extremely useful to me in my research into the Severans over the course of this series of novels, and once again, it proved extremely useful.

When looking for any information I could find on the death of Severus, I came across an image of a coin minted by Caracalla after the death of his father. It was perfect, for this coin depicted exactly what I was looking for…

Silver denarius showing the funeral pyre of Septimius Severus

On this coin is depicted the funeral pyre of Septimius Severus himself. It provided me with the information I needed to accurately describe this event.

Serendipity does indeed happen in research too!

The other question was the location of the pyre. Where could it have been located? Of course, the pyre would have had to be outside the city walls of Eburacum. But the ustrinum, the burning place, for such a large pyre would have to be far removed from the city.

Here too, the stars aligned for my research.

In modern York (ancient Eburacum) there is a place called ‘Severus Hill’ which is a large hill (now topped by a water tower) in an otherwise flat landscape that some historians believe was created by glacial shiftings millions of years ago.

However, I discovered that there is another theory about Severus Hill that the feature was not created by glaciers, but rather that it is the overgrown remains of Septimius Severus’ giant funeral pyre.

Severus Hill, and its water tower. (photo: yorkpress.co.uk)

I thought about this, about the distance from the ancient city walls (about 2 miles) and the toponymics of the place (place name). Whether the theory is absolutely true or not, it fit well with the story I was trying to tell.

It is wonderful when a plan, erm…plot, comes together!

Thus, my time with Septimius Severus, one of Rome’s great emperors, has come to an end. I will miss him.

He was not perfect, to be sure, but his life and actions have been fascinating to explore. He had great successes, but he also had failures, and perhaps his greatest failure was to entrust the empire he had built to his two sons, Caracalla and Geta.

Severus had, at one point, criticized Marcus Aurelius for making Commodus his heir, but he in turn had made the same mistake.

And the Empire would pay for it.

Still, Septimius Severus was an emperor until the very end, when his stars flickered and faded. His final words, as Cassius Dio tells us, were: “Come, give it here, if we have anything to do.”

I hope you have enjoyed this part in The World of Isle of the Blessed. There is more to come!

Tune in next week for Part VI when we will be looking at a particular archaeological discovery that sheds a gruesome light on the immediate aftermath of Severus’ death.

Thank you for reading.

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The World of Isle of the Blessed – Part III – Ynis Wytrin: The Place Beyond the Mists

What is the Isle of the Blessed?

There are many traditions when it comes to paradise, or a place where there is no suffering or pain. To the ancient Greeks, the Fortunate Isles, or Isles of the Blessed were a place where heroes went, a green paradise where the sun always shone. To the Romans, that was Elysium, or the Elysian Fields, the place where heroes blessed by the Gods went to spend eternity in peace.

In the latest Eagles and Dragons series novel, Isle of the Blessed, we find ourselves in a world beyond the water and mist of the Somerset levels of southern Britannia.

In Part III of The World of Isle of the Blessed, we’re looking at the history, myth and legend of the place known in Celtic myth as Ynis Wytrin, but which we know today as Glastonbury, or the legendary Isle of Avalon.

Glastonbury has always been a special place for me, not because I lived in the countryside outside the town for a few years, or because of its strong Arthurian associations, an area of study and story that I have always gravitated to.

One of the things I love about Glastonbury is the, more often than not, peaceful coming together of various beliefs through the ages.

To most, the mere mention of this town’s name will likely conjure images of wild, scantily clad or naked youths and aged hippies. You’ll think of thousands of people covered in mud as they wend their way, higher than the Hindu Kush, among the tent rows to see their favourite artists rock the Pyramid Stage at Britains’ largest music festival. 

It’s a great party, but that’s not the real Glastonbury. 

Removed from the fantastic orgy of the music festival, this small, ancient town in southwest Britain is a place of mystery, lore and legend. It is a place that was sacred to the Celts, pagan and Christian alike, Saxons, and Normans. For many it is the heart of Arthurian tradition, and for some it is the resting place of the Holy Grail. 

Today, Glastonbury is a place where those seeking spiritual enlightenment are drawn. The New Age movement is going strong here, yet another layer of belief to cloak the place. 

When I lived there, I never tired of walking around Glastonbury and exploring the many sites that make it truly unique. I’d like to share some of those sites with you, sites that are featured in Isle of the Blessed, the latest Eagles and Dragons novel.

My morning view of the Tor across the Somerset levels

From where I lived on the other side of the peat moors, I awoke every morning to see Glastonbury’s most prominent feature shrouded in mist – the Tor. 

Tor is a word of Celtic origin referring to ‘belly’ in Welsh or a ‘bulging hill’ in Gaelic. Glastonbury Tor thrusts up from the Somerset levels like a beacon for miles around. Every angle is interesting. On the top is the tower of what was the church of St. Michael, a remnant of the 14th century. Before that, there was a monastery that dated to about the 9th century A.D. 

However, habitation of this place goes much farther back in time with some evidence for people in the area around 3000 B.C. It was not always a religious centre. In the Dark Ages, the Tor served a more militaristic purpose and there are remains from this period too. 

In Arthurian lore, the Isle of Avalon is a sort of mist-shrouded world that is surrounded by water and can only be reached by boat or secret path. In fact, during the Dark Ages and into later centuries, until the drainage dykes were built, the Somerset levels were prone to flooding. This flooding made Glastonbury Tor and the smaller hills around it true islands. With the early morning mist that covers the levels, this watery land would have been a relatively safe refuge for the Druids, and early Christians, Dark Age warlords and medieval monks. 

Somerset Levels in flood

In Celtic myth, Glastonbury Tor, one of the traditional gates of Annwn, the Celtic otherworld, is said to be the home of Gwyn ap Nudd, the Faery King and Lord of Annwn. 

Gwyn ap Nudd is the Guardian of the Gates of Annwn, an underworld god. It is at Samhain that the gates of Annwn open. This was also the place where the soul of a Celt awaited rebirth.  

If you are on the Tor at Samhain, you may hear the sound of hounds and hunting horns as the lord of Annwn emerges for the Wild Hunt of legend.

In Arthurian romance, there is a tradition of the wicked Melwas imprisoning Guinevere on the Tor. Arthur rides to the rescue, attacks Melwas and saves Guinevere. This particular story mirrors an episode in Culhwch and Olwen, one part of the Welsh Mabinogion, in which Gwythyr ap Greidawl attempts to save Creiddylad, daughter of Lludd, whom he is supposed to marry, from Gwyn ap Nudd himself. 

The Book of Taliesin (Wikimedia Commons)

Another even more fascinating Arthurian connection can be found in a pre-Christian version of the ‘Quest of the Holy Grail’, called the ‘Spoils of Annwn’ which was found in the ‘Book of Taliesin’. In this tale, Arthur and his companions enter Annwn to bring back a magical cauldron of plenty. In this, some say that ‘Corbenic Castle’ (the ‘Grail Castle’) is actually Glastonbury Tor. It isn’t just Herakles and Odysseus who journeyed to the Underworld! 

Glastonbury Tor is not only associated with Celtic religion, myth and legend. It is also said by some to be a place of power or a sort of vortex in the land that lies along some of the key ley lines, including what is called the St. Michael ley line. The majority of sites associated with St. Michael, the slayer of Satan, along the ley line were indeed places of power and belief of the old pagan religions. 

Filming on Glastonbury Tor

Myth and legend persist through story and place, and the Tor is a prime example of how successive traditions do not overcome each other, but rather combine to make up the various aspects of that place. 

If you ever get to Glastonbury, the Tor is a definite must. Walk to the top and sit awhile. Look out over the landscape and watch the crows and magpies dive in the wind around the steep slopes. Close your eyes and listen. While you’re there, you can decide whether you are sitting on a natural formation, a ceremonial labyrinth, a hillfort, a sleeping dragon, the Gates of Annwn, or the mound where Arthur sleeps until he is needed once more. The Tor is all of these things. 

Wearyall Hill and the Holy Thorn several years ago

Another prominent feature of Glastonbury’s landscape is known as Wearyall Hill, located on the road as you enter from the neighbouring town of Street.

Wearyall Hill is home to one of Glastonbury’s most ancient treasures – the Holy Thorn. 

Across the street from the Morrison’s store, you can climb up Wearyall’s gentle slope to see a hawthorn tree known as the Glastonbury Thorn, or the ‘Holy Thorn’. One popular legend associated with Wearyall Hill and the Holy Thorn is that in the years after Christ’s death, his uncle Joseph of Arimathea came with twelve followers by boat to Glastonbury. When they set foot on the hill, tired from their journey, Joseph plunged his staff into the ground and it took root. 

There is archaeological evidence for a dock or wharf on the slopes of Wearyall Hill that dates from the period. Did Joseph of Arimathea actually arrive in Britain with the Holy Grail? 

Stained glass detail from St John’s church in Glastonbury showing Joseph planting his staff in Wearyall Hill.

Well, that depends on what you believe. And Glastonbury is just that, an amalgam of beliefs living, for the most part, in harmony, just as the Celts and early Christians did here over two thousand years ago.

Cuttings of the Thorn grow in three places in Glastonbury. What is interesting is that this variety of hawthorn is not native to Britain, but is rather a Syrian variety. Curiously, it flowers at Christmas and Easter, both sacred times of year for Pagans and Christians. Every holiday season, the Royal family is sent a clipping of this very special tree that hails from the earliest days of Christianity in Britain. 

The current Thorn is not the original, but rather a descendant of the original which was burned down by Cromwell’s Puritans in the seventeenth century as a ‘relic of superstition’. How much destruction has been wrought on the ancient sites of Britain during the wars waged by Henry VIII and later Oliver Cromwell? It’s horrifying to think about. 

One of my first visits to Wearyall Hill and the Thorn

As with all other things in Glastonbury, Wearyall Hill and the Holy Thorn do not belong solely to the Christian past.

The hawthorn tree was one of the most sacred trees to the Celts and is the sixth tree on the Druid tree calendar and alphabet. It is also known as the ‘May Tree’ because of when it blossoms most. May was sacred to the ancient Celts as the time of the festival of Beltane, a time for Spring ritual and worship of the Goddess. 

In the Middle Ages, the practice of picking hawthorn boughs evolved to include dancing with them around a May Pole. 

In Arthurian tradition, Wearyall Hill is associated with the castle of the ‘King Fisherman’ whom the Grail knights meet. To reach the castle, those on the quest were said to have to cross the ‘perilous bridge’ over the river of Death. To pass through the castle was to go from this world to the next. 

Interesting to think that the gates to the otherworld of Annwn were believed to be just on the next hill, Glastonbury Tor. 

Whatever legend or myth you believe, or don’t believe, about Wearyall Hill is up to you. The stories are many and convoluted, but such is the fate of great and sacred places of the past.

A descendent of the Holy Thorn in Bloom on the grounds of Glastonbury Abbey

I always looked forward to my walks up the gentle slope of Wearyall Hill with the Holy Thorn drawing me up like a beacon, a friend even. Locals, Christian and Pagan believers, hold it close to their hearts. 

Once at the top of the hill, I would circle the Thorn, reach out to touch its limbs, and read some of the wishes or prayers on ribbons tied to it – ‘Don’t let me lose my family,’ or ‘Thank you for making my mummy better.’ The wishes wrenched your heart, and the thanks made you smile. 

When I would sit on the nearby bench at the top of the hill, I never felt alone. I would look out at the Tor and the surrounding landscape and feel tremendous gratitude. I would always leave with a sense of hope for the future, and a tie to the past. 

On my recent visit, long after the vandals struck, there are more wishes than ever upon the Holy Thorn.

When I returned to Glastonbury recently to film a documentary and do some research for Isle of the Blessed, I found the tree much changed from before. 

In 2010, vandals took a chainsaw to the Holy Thorn in the middle of the night. In the morning, residents found their beloved tree of hope hacked to bits. A sapling was planted again in the Spring of 2013, but again, that was knocked down in the night. 

I’m still in shock over this, lost in my remembrances of Glastonbury’s Thorn in full bloom on a sunlit hilltop. 

But the Thorn has survived the centuries and there has been talk that new shoots have been coming up. The Royal Botanical Gardens is on the case, and so are the citizens of Glastonbury. 

The Thorn and Wearyall Hill itself are not purely Christian or Pagan. They are symbols of unity, and of a common past. We should indeed cherish sites that are so revered, whether we believe in them or not.

In a way, the Thorn’s sacrifice is bringing people together. Glastonbury is still a town where Pagan and Christian live side by side. 

And it is this unity that I explore in Isle of the Blessed.

I have every hope that the Thorn will blossom once again on the crest of Wearyall Hill, and that one day I’ll make the climb to say hello to a very old friend. 

This next site we are going to look at is one that, like the rest of Glastonbury, is suffused with layers of history, legend, and belief. 

The Chalice Well and surrounding gardens, located in a valley between Chalice Hill and the Tor, is one of those places that you don’t quite know what to make of at first. When you enter under the vine-covered pergola you are met by colour, soft light, and the gentle trickle of water playing about your senses. 

You see young, wildly coloured blossoms exploding from the soil at the foot of Yew trees that have seen centuries of summers in Ynis Wytrin. 

The same goes for the people visiting this place. 

You will see young children frolicking like fairies at the edge of the water, adults of all ages contemplating beauty…life…death.

And you will find aged men and women, whose years are beyond the care of counting, strolling silently about the gardens. They’ll admire a particularly beautiful blossom or sit on one of the many benches hidden in private corners, perhaps remembering others they have come here with long ago. Or maybe they are just looking up at the Tor and harkening back to the tales of Arthur they loved when they too were children.

Peace in the Chalice Well Gardens

The thing about this place is its overwhelming sense of peace and harmony, from which all can benefit.

But what exactly is the Chalice Well? 

Scientifically-speaking, Chalice Well is actually an iron-rich spring, the source of which is unknown. Some believe it comes from deep in the Mendip Hills to the north. The Chalice Well is where it comes out of the ground. 

Springs were sacred to the ancient Celts. To those who inhabited this area from the pre-historic era on, the Well may have been a healing place beside the Tor. The waters that run red were sacred to the Goddess and were her water of life. 

The spring has never failed, even in drought. 

‘The Druids; or the conversion of the Britons to Christianity’. Engraving by S.F. Ravenet, 1752, after F. Hayman.

It is also believed that Glastonbury was the site of a Druid ‘college’ of instruction and that the avenue of sacred Yew trees, some still remaining in the Chalice Well gardens, were part of a processional way to the Tor, passing beside the Well. 

Later legend, and the reason for the name given to the Well, relates how Joseph of Arimathea brought the Holy Grail to Glastonbury in A.D. 37. It is said that he buried the Grail near the Well and that the water runs through it, hence the redness of the water. 

The Goddess’s blood was replaced by that of Christ, but the sanctity of the place remained (and remains) intact. 

Of course, there is an Arthurian connection. Where you find the Grail, there too will you find Arthur and his knights.

The Knights of the Round Table and the Holy Grail

In the 15th century, Sir Thomas Malory mentions the spring in his Morte d’Arthur when Lancelot and others are said to have retired as hermits in a valley near Glastonbury. Some believe it was this site that he referred to. 

The sacred water of the Chalice Well feels like the beating heart of the gardens that surround it, and visitors, like a protective shield. 

There are four places where the water surfaces in the Gardens.

The first is one of the most striking features – the well cover in the form of the Vescica Piscis. 

The Vescica Piscis is an ancient symbol that represents the intersection of the material and immaterial (Natural and Supernatural) worlds. Fitting for one of the traditional gateways to Annwn.

The Vesica Piscis well cover in the Chalice Well Gardens

The Chalice Well cover is made of English oak and wrought iron, and was designed after WWI by the architect and clairvoyant, Frederick Bligh Bond, who carried out the first excavations on Glastonbury Abbey. 

The difference with this Vescica Piscis is that the circles are intersected by a sword, or bleeding lance, a Christian addition to this ancient symbol of power. 

From the Well, the red water flows to the Lion’s Head where people can go to drink, or sit in quiet reflection while the water splashes onto a stone below.

Farther down the garden you come to a striking rich-red waterfall where the spring cascades into a pool where people can soak themselves in the healing water. This pool is another place of meditation known as Arthur’s Courtyard. 

Filming at the Lion’s Head fountain in the Chalice Well Gardens

After that, the water flows past two ancient Yew trees, and a shoot of the Holy Thorn (yes, it survives!) into a pool shaped like the Vescica Piscis near where you enter the Gardens. The spring then flows away underground, beneath the Abbey and the pavement of Magdalene Street. 

The red water’s healing sojourn above ground is fleeting, but for thousands of years it has brought people comfort, and peace.

Ancient yew trees in the Chalice Well gardens

Whenever I would visit Chalice Well and the gardens, my head pounding from a migraine, or the weight of a world of worries pressing me down, I would always leave feeling rejuvenated, calm, and optimistic. 

Whether visitors are pagan, Wiccan, atheist, or Christian, or they adhere to some other system of belief, the Chalice Well is a place where people still believe in miracles, as they have done for thousands of years. 

The Vesica Piscis pool in the Chalice Well Gardens

On the next part of our journey through Ynis Wytrin, or in insula Avalonia, we’re going to meet two very special giants.

They are tall, and broad, and green, and together they have stood the test of time. Their names are Gog and Magog. 

The names of Gog and Magog will be well-known to Old Testament historians as evil powers to be overcome in the Book of Ezekiel (38-39), and in the New Testament Book of Revelation (20). 

Gog and Magog also figure largely in the British foundation myths, mainly in the Historia Regum Britanniae of Geoffrey of Monmouth. 

According to Geoffrey, when Brute, a descendant of the Trojan Aeneas, came to Britain in around 1130 B.C. he and his people fought a West Country giant(s) named Goemagot.

Gog and Magog in the Lord Mayor’s Show, London

There are many other tales and places around England and Ireland associated with the giants, Gog and Magog.

In Glastonbury it is different.

The giants of which I speak are two ancient and magnificent oak trees that are tucked away in this misty isle. 

They are not war, or pain, or suffering. Gog and Magog represent the last of the great oaks of Avalon. They demand nothing of the wanderer, and yet they are revered. 

The association with the giants only goes so far as the names of the trees, and their size. 

The short walk to the oaks from the middle of Glastonbury town is one of the most beautiful walks in the area. 

Cross Chilkwell Street, near the Abbey Barn, and head up Wellhouse Lane between the slopes of the Tor and Chalice Hill. Follow the foot path into the field where you will come to the ancient trail of Paradise Lane. At the bottom of Paradise Lane, you will find Gog and Magog waiting for you. 

Gog and Magog on a wintry day some years back

These trees are ancient, no doubt. When they come into view, you are drawn to them as if to a comforting grandparent. You’ll find the odd ribbon tied to a branch, or a sheaf of wheat laid in offering among the sturdy limbs. 

These two trees are friends to many in Glastonbury and beyond. 

Gog and Magog are all that remain of an avenue of oaks that led to the Tor, and which was thought to be used as a processional way by the Druids in ages past. 

Sadly, the avenue was cut down for farmland in 1906, and these two giants are all that remain. 

Oak trees like Gog and Magog were sacred to worshippers of the Great Mother, and later the Druids. Before Rome and mass farming came to Britain, the whole of the south of Britain was covered in forests from Hampshire to Devon. 

Oak groves were sacred, the sites of the Goddess’ perpetually burning fires and the rites of the Druids who used oak leaves in their rituals.

View of the Tor from Paradise Lane, on the way to Gog and Magog

The sanctity of the oak was not relegated to Celtic Europe either, but also goes back to ancient Greece. At the sanctuary of Zeus at Dodona, priests would glean the will of Zeus from the rustling of the leaves in the sacred oak groves.

At Glastonbury, Gog and Magog would likely have seen many a ritual or procession.

If they could only speak in a way we could understand, I’m sure they would have some fantastic tales to tell. 

Taking the walk from town, past the Tor, and down Paradise Lane to see Gog and Magog was always one of my favourite walks. Because there are no roads nearby, the sound of cars is absent, and all you can hear is the chirruping of birds and the whisper of the wind as it blows across the Somerset levels. 

When I returned there to do research for Isle of the Blessed, my feet found their way there once more, whisking through the dry field grass, or squelching through the mud, until I caught that first glimpse of the two giants. 

“It’s good to see you again, after so long…” I thought, feeling a great comfort and sense of gratitude.

Visiting the friendly giants

From my days in insula Avalonia, I can still recall refreshing walks along the crest of Wearyall Hill, along the dragon’s back of the Tor, and down Paradise Lane to Gog and Magog. 

However, there is another place of peace, a sanctuary in the middle of town, nestled between Wearyall Hill, Chalice Hill, and the Tor. It is Glastonbury Abbey.

The Abbey grounds, like other sanctuaries in town, are a place to get away to. You have to pay to get in, but once you walk through the arch, past another descendent of the Holy Thorn, and onto the green lawns surrounding these magnificent ruins, you are set to experience a whole new aspect of Glastonbury. 

The ruins of Glastonbury Abbey from the area of the main altar

The ruins of what was once one of the largest abbeys in England rise up from the soft ground, sentry-still, surrounded by mist. ‘Majestic’ is a word I would use to describe the ruins, and ‘sad’. When you see the model of what the place looked like at its height of power and prominence, you understand. 

Glastonbury abbey was not always such a soaring monument of Christianity. The lovely ruins that can be seen today are a medieval creation, the remains of which date from the twelfth to sixteenth centuries. But the place itself is said to be the site of the first Christian church and oldest religious foundation in the British Isles.

Model in the abbey museum of what Glastonbury Abbey used to look like before the Dissolution of the Monasteries.

According to tradition, Joseph of Arimathea and his followers built a wattle church on the site on land he was given by the local king, Arviragus (possible ruler of South Cadbury Castle at the time) around the middle of the first century A.D.

Circa A.D. 160, two Christians named Faganus and Deruvianus are supposed to have added a stone structure on the site of what is the Lady Chapel. It is here that there is an ancient well dedicated to St. Joseph.

St. Joseph’s Well in the crypt of the Lady Chapel

In the early days of Christianity in Britain, this first chapel and the well were the predecessors of the magnificent ruins of the abbey we see today. The Lady Chapel was the site of the first Marian cult in Britain, and in the words of Geoffrey Ashe “there is no rival tradition whatsoever. When all of the fantastic mists have dispersed, ‘Our Lady St. Mary of Glastonbury’ remains a time-hallowed title.”

In one of the Welsh Triads, Glastonbury is given the distinction of having a ‘perpetual choir’. 

It was a place that Christians gravitated to. Indeed, several Celtic saints are said to have come here, including St. Bridget, St. David, St. Columba, and even St. Patrick whom some stories name as the first abbot of Glastonbury. 

Lady Chapel c 1900 (Wikimedia commons)

Walking the grounds of Glastonbury Abbey is a contemplative activity, like so many other spots in insula Avalonia. 

It is supremely peaceful and there are all manner of flora in the gardens to add to the calm. Great trees shiver overhead when a breeze blows into town from across the Somerset levels. 

You can stroll the scant remains of the cloisters and up the nave with the abbey’s stone titans looming over you. In a couple spots, you can lift a wooden cover to reveal some of the colourful tiles of the medieval abbey floor. 

Surviving tiles of the Abbey’s medieval floor

Then, toward the transept, you come to an unassuming outline in the grass with a plaque marking it. 

This is where you meet with one of Glastonbury Abbey’s most mysterious connections.  

In 1184 a fire ravaged the abbey and the monks needed to rebuild. Around the time of the fire, a Welsh bard is supposed to have revealed to King Henry II that King Arthur himself was buried within the abbey grounds. 

The king passed this information on to the Abbot of Glastonbury who later ordered excavations to be carried out. In 1191, it is said that the monks found the bones of a man and a woman in a hollowed out tree trunk who were none other than Arthur, and his queen, Guinevere. 

With the remains was a lead cross with the words ‘Hic Jiacet Sepultus Inclytus Rex Arturius in Insula Avallonia’ which translates as ‘Here lies buried the renowned King Arthur in the Isle of Avalon’. 

Spot where Arthur and Guinevere’s bones are said to have been discovered

The Elizabethan antiquarian, William Camden, did a sketch of the Arthur cross in the early 17th century.

A lot of doubt has been cast on the monks’ discovery with many believing that it was a hoax created by the monks to boost tourism through pilgrimage. The remains were treated as relics and later moved within the abbey during the reign of Edward I in the early 13th century.

Sketch of the ‘Arthur Cross’ discovered in the burial beside the Lady Chapel

It is important to note that the archaeologist who excavated the abbey in the 1960s, Dr. Ralegh Radford, indicated that the monks’ story might not have been that far-fetched, and that there was indeed a person of great import from the correct period buried in the graveyard just south of the Lady Chapel. 

As with all things in Glastonbury, belief is always a part of the great equation.

There are other buildings associated with the abbey too, including the Abbot’s Kitchen where the Benedictine brothers would have prepared meals, and the Abbey Barn which is now home to the Somerset Rural Life Museum. 

The site is lovely and inspiring. Tradition on the abbey grounds goes back ages to the very roots of Christianity in Britain and beyond, and this Christian presence comes as a surprise to the Romans who find themselves in Ynis Wytrin in Isle of the Blessed.

17th century sketch of what Joseph of Arimathea’s original chapel might have looked like

As I would sit on a bench, listening to the birds and the breeze, gazing upon the ruins, I would imagine St. Joseph arriving with his followers and picking out the spot for that first chapel. Perhaps they had something in common with the druids and priestesses of the goddess who might have already been there? Perhaps a common yearning for peace and truth?

It is sad that Henry VIII robbed us of the physical beauty of Glastonbury Abbey in the great Dissolution. The last abbot was dragged to the top of the Tor and beheaded by the King’s henchman, Cromwell. 

For this place to function peacefully and unmolested from its earliest time, through Saxon incursions and Norman invasions, speaks to its agreed importance over the ages. 

The majesty of this place may lie in ruins now, but its spirit and mystery certainly remain intact. 

The Lady Chapel today

I hope you’ve enjoyed this post on Glastonbury and The World of Isle of the Blessed as much as I enjoyed researching, revisiting, and writing about it in the novel. It was especially inspiring to write a story set in a place people of various beliefs lived together, and then to send my Roman protagonist into their midst.

What would a Roman think of a place where pagans and Christians, including Druids, lived together in peace and harmony?

Well…to learn that, you will have to read the book.

Join us next week for Part IV of The World of Isle of the Blessed when we will be taking a look at the main historical players in the imperial court in Britannia.

Thank you for reading.

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The World of Isle of the Blessed – Part II – Roman Lindinis: The Small Town with Big Ambitions

Welcome back to The World of Isle of the Blessed, the blog series in which we take a look at the research, history and archaeology that went into the latest novel in the Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy series.

In Part I, we looked at the hillfort of South Cadbury Castle which is one of the major settings of the book. If you missed that post, you can read it HERE.

In Part II, we’re going to be taking a look at another place that plays an important role in Isle of the Blessed: Roman Lindinis.

The settlement of Lindinis (also known as ‘Lendiniae’), as it is known in the seventh century Ravenna Cosmography (a list of place names from India to Ireland) is actually modern Ilchester, in Somerset, England.

Lindinis, as it was known during the Roman period, was located just a few miles from South Cadbury Castle, and Glastonbury, Somerset. This fifty acre settlement lies where the Dorchester road interests with the Fosse Way, one of the major roads of Roman Britain.

Map showing the route of the Fosse Way from Exeter to Lincoln, and running through Ilchester

During the Roman period, Somerset was an agriculturally rich area of the Empire, with many villa estates, such as that of Pitney (which also features in the story). These estates’ primary business was in crops such as spelt wheat, oats, barley and rye. The also raised livestock, mainly cattle, but also sheep, horses, goats, and pigs.

These Roman villa owners were wealthy, and Lindinis was one of the main markets where they brought their crops and livestock.

Aeneas and Dido mosaic from Low Ham Roman Villa near Ilchester

Lindinis was not always a Roman settlement, however.

It was originally a Celtic oppidum, a native center that consisted of a large enclosure with homes, food stores and livestock. One imagines Celtic Somerset as a place of peace and vitality.

But, in A.D. 43 the Romans arrived with the advent of the Claudian invasion of Britain. Forty-five thousand troops marched over the land, including four legions, and the native Britons fought, and lost. Vespasian, the future emperor, stormed the southern hillforts of Britain, including South Cadbury Castle, ushering in an age of Roman domination.

Possible remains of one of Lindinis’ Roman forts

Eventually, at Lindinis, two successive forts were built on the site to the south of the river: one from Nero’s reign, and another during the Flavian period. There is also evidence for a third fort to the northeast of the river crossing where a double ditch enclosure has been discovered.

Plan of Pre-Roman and Early Roman Ilchester (image from the Ilchester Parish Council)

The Roman invasion of Britain was a violent time, and that violence carried on through the Boudiccan revolt of A.D. 59. But when the blood stopped flowing, an age of Pax Romana settled on the southwest of Britannia, and Lindinis was at the heart of it.

Lindinis, however, was not the main settlement of Roman Somerset. To maintain peace and order, and keep the economy running, the Romans instituted various civitates, centres of local government in which tribal groups of the region participated.

The centre of town, what might later have been market

The council of a civitas was known as an ordo, and the members of the ordo were decurions, overseen by an executive, elected curia of two men. The ordo of a civitas usually included Romans, tribal aristocrats or local chieftains, and it was their job to administer local justice, put on public shows, see to religious taxation, the census, and represent the civitas in Londinium. Supreme authority, however, belonged to the Provincial Governor who was aided by a procurator, the ‘tax man’.

Ilchester crossing of the River Yeo. Remains of the Roman fort to the left.

There were three major civitates during the Roman period in southwestern Britannia: Durnovaria (modern Dorchester) the civitas of the Durotriges tribe, Isca Dumnoniorum (modern Exeter) the civitas of the Dumnonii, and to the north Corinium Dobunnorum (modern Cirencester) the tribal centre of the Dobunni.

Despite its large market and location at a crossroads along the artery of the Fosse Way over the river Yoe – in the southwest, the Fosse Way ran from Isca Dumnoniorum (modern Exeter) to Aquae Sulis (modern Bath) – Lindinis was not one of the major civitates of the region, though it did rival nearby Durnovaria.

Ilchester’s bridge over the river Yeo

In addition to a thriving market where wine, oil, clothing, ornaments, jewellery, tools, pottery and glass were sold, Lindinis also had gravel and stone streets, and stone walls (later). People also came to Lindinis to pay their taxes.

Where the road diverges in Ilchester – the left to Exeter, the right to Dorchester. See the bridge over the river directly ahead.

There was also a small garrison.

Lindinis may have seen itself as the civitas Durotrigum Lendiniensium, but it could not be an official civitas as one of the requirements for civitas status was a basilica or forum. Lindinis did not have either of those.

Plan of late Roman Ilchester (map from the Ilchester Parish Council)

Roman Lindinis had a large role to play in the economy of Roman Somerset, but perhaps not as large as its ordo would have liked. It also found itself in difficult situations during its time, for during the civil war (A.D. 193) between Septimius Severus, Pescennius Niger, and Clodius Albinus, Lindinis was forced to declare for Clodius Albinus who was in Britannia when he made his claim. At this time, new defences were built around Lindinis, as if in anticipation of the trouble to come.

Ah…politics.

In the book, Isle of the Blessed, Lucius Metellus Anguis, the main protagonist in the Eagles and Dragons series, has several run-ins with the ordo members of Lindinis’ ruling council who see him as a person of influence at the imperial court, a man who could help their small town to become much more.

Historically, despite its lack of a proper forum or basilica, it seems that Lindinis did succeed in attaining a measure of civitas status, for along Hadrian’s Wall, two inscriptions have been found bearing the name of a detachment from the ‘Civitas Durotragum Lendiniensis’, or the ‘Lindinis tribe of the Durotriges’.

This, despite the presence of the other three, official civitas settlements Durnovaria, Isca, and Corinium.

Who knows? Perhaps the persuasiveness of the ordo members of Lindinis, the settlement’s important location, and the size of its market helped to sway the Roman authorities to grant civitas status.

In Isle of the Blessed, we see how far the local politicians are willing to go.

I hope you’ve enjoyed part two of The World of Isle of the Blessed.

Next week, in Part III, we will look at the history, myth and legend surrounding what is known in Isle of the Blessed as Ynis Wytrin, that is, Glastonbury, England.

Thank you for reading.

Isle of the Blessed is now available in e-book and paperback from all major on-line retailers. If you haven’t read any books in the Eagles and Dragons series yet, you can start with the #1 bestselling A Dragon among the Eagles for just 0.99! Or get the first prequel novel, The Dragon: Genesis, for FREE by clicking HERE.

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A New Eagles and Dragons Series Novel!

We’re excited to announce the official launch of Isle of the Blessed, Book IV in the #1 bestselling Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy series.

Fans of this series have been waiting quite a long time for this book, but now the wait is over.

Sound the cornu and slam your gladii against your scuta!

Isle of the Blessed – Eagles and Dragons Book IV

At the peak of Rome’s might, a dragon is born among eagles, an heir to a line both blessed and cursed by the Gods for ages.

Emperor Septimius Severus’ war against the Caledonians has ended with a peace treaty. Rome has won.

As a reward for the blood they have shed, many of Rome’s warriors have been granted a reprieve from duty, including Lucius Metellus Anguis, prefect of the now famous Sarmatian cavalry.

The Gods seem finally to have granted Lucius a peaceful life as he builds a new home for his family upon an ancient hillfort in the south of Britannia. Lucius now finds that, after years of war and brutality, the most elusive peace, the peace within, is finally within his grasp.

But heroes are never without enemies, and Lucius, Rome’s famed Dragon, has many.

After an argument with traitorous local politicians, and a quest in which he is confronted by a dark goddess, Lucius realizes that his pastoral idyll is at an end. When war erupts in Caledonia once more, he is called away only to be assaulted on all fronts by his most deadly enemy.

The choices presented to Lucius by the Gods, his allies, and his friends are clear and terrifying. He can hand victory and power over to the wickedest men in the Empire, or he can fight for his life to create the world he believes in.

Will Lucius’ enemies and the powers of darkness overwhelm and destroy him? Or will he find the strength to survive the trials he faces and protect the people he loves?

This time, not even the Gods know…

We hope you like the sound of this one. It promises to take you on an adventure in the Roman Empire that you won’t forget, and the editorial team and beta readers have told us that this is Adam’s best book to date!

You can learn more and find all the links to get your copy ON THIS WEB PAGE.

Isle of the Blessed is available in e-book format at all major on-line retailers, and currently in paperback from Amazon.

If you haven’t read any books in the Eagles and Dragons series, you can start the series for FREE with the full-length novel, The Dragon: Genesis, which you can download by CLICKING HERE.

Here’s to a new adventure in the Roman Empire!

Happy Reading!

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A New Year for Eagles and Dragons Publishing

Happy New Year, everyone!

Erm… Well… To honest, I’ve never been crazy for New Year. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s because I’m an historian, and I prefer looking to the past…the distant past.

I don’t usually do a ‘round-up’ post for the past year, or a ‘looking ahead’ post for New Year.

However, this year is different.

You see, 2019 is the 10-year anniversary of this blog, Writing the Past.

Amazing, right? Ten years! I still can’t believe it. I remember starting this blog on the Blogger platform (Click Here to see the old site) after hearing someone from a think-tank in Boston speak about the power and importance of blogging as a way to get ideas out into the world.

Ten years later, and here we are.

Time flies when you’re having fun writing!

Eagles and Dragons Publishing was born out of the Writing the Pastblog. Some of you have been along for the ride since the beginning, but most of you joined this mailing list after 2016.

And let me tell you, the Eagles and Dragons publishing team and I thrilled you’re here!

For this post, I’m not going to go into the history of Writing the Past– we’ll save that for some special posts later this year – but rather, I wanted to touch on some of the great things that happened last year, and then get into what you can expect in 2019.

One of the things we were really excited about last year was the launch of Eagles and Dragons Publishing’s new non-fiction series of books, Historia.

I had been wanting to get these titles out for some time, but fiction always took precedence. However, it was enormously gratifying to see that when the first three books in the Historiaseries did come out, all three of them were #1 New Releases in the Amazon store.

Our fiction offering for 2018, however, was Saturnalia: A Tale of Wickedness and Redemption in Ancient Rome.

Most of you will be familiar with this title, as it was launched just a couple of months ago. If you missed the announcement blog, or the blog about the Roman festival of Saturnalia itself then be sure to check them out.

I’m happy to say it was pretty well-received, and I’m grateful for the emails some of you have sent me to say now much you have enjoyed this Roman retelling of a classic tale.

Lots of readers enjoyed this book at the Holidays!

I think that perhaps the most exciting thing for me last year was when I finished the first drafts of the next two Eagles and Dragons novels: Isle of the Blessed, and The Stolen Throne.

I know many of you have been waiting patiently for these next books, and though it will still be a few months before they come back from the editor, 2019 will be the year!

2018, all said, was a pretty good year. Sure, there were ups and downs of different kinds, but when are there not?

But what is coming for me, and for Eagles and Dragons Publishing in 2019?

With the 10-year anniversary of Writing the Past, we’ve decided that we need to do something special. We’re not sure what yet – maybe a contest with prizes of some sort, a Facebook Live event? We’ll have to wait and see. If you have any ideas, let us know in the comments below!

For me personally, it’s about writing and new releases.

As I mentioned, the next two books in the Eagles and Dragons series are forthcoming, and I can’t wait to share them with you. They are…well…epic and moving. It has been quite a journey!

But there is also another Eagles and Dragons book that will be coming out soon, and this will be available only for Eagles and Dragons Publishing subscribers. It will not be for sale anywhere else. I’ve been writing this book for a little under two months, getting up at 5 a.m. every morning to do so. I only have two more chapters of the first draft to write and, as ever, when it comes out, there will be some accompanying ‘World of’ blog posts.

So, if you haven’t yet signed up for the mailing list, you’ll want to do so immediately so you don’t miss out! You can do that HERE.

Join the Legions!

In 2019 we will also launch the fourth book in the Historianon-fiction series. This one is exciting because it will also be accompanied by a mini-documentary that we filmed in Britain a little over a year ago. We’re still polishing off that book and sifting through the raw video footage, but itiscoming in 2019.

For those of you who are Arthurian enthusiasts and archaeologists, you will definitely be interested in Historia IV!

2019 may also see the emergence of some new endeavours for Eagles and Dragons Publishing, perhaps in the form of an on-line course. We’ll have to wait and see. However, fiction is always our focus, so we need to be mindful of time since, when it comes to history, our enthusiasm can indeed get the better of us!

But that’s a good thing!

There will of course continue to be bi-weekly blog posts in the Ancient Everyday and Roman Ghosts series, as well as one-off posts about various topics on ancient and medieval history, archaeology, writing and more. And if you are one of our special Patreon patrons, then you can expect some special offerings just for you throughout the year, such as short stories and behind-the-scene pics and sneak-peeks! If any of you’re interested in becoming a patron, you can check out the website HERE and watch me in my awkward, but honest video.

There is a lot more Eagles and Dragons Publishing would like to do, and you can see the list of these goals on the Patreon page. Who knows? Perhaps someday, we’ll get there!

In the meantime, I just want to say that the Eagles and Dragons Publishing team and I are thrilled to have you along for this amazing journey into the past through our fiction, the blog, non-fiction and more. It really isan honour to create content for you, so if there is anything you would like to see more of, let us know in the comments below or send us a message through the Contact Us page.

May 2019 be an epic year for us all!

Thank you for reading.

The road ahead looks good!
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