Finding Arthur (26 page)

Columba-Crimthann’s biographer, Ian Finlay, says that when Columba-Crimthann became involved in the kingship selection process, “the embers of
Cul Dreimme
[Cul Drebne] [seemed] to glow again.”
¹³
Columba-Crimthann’s blood may have been up when it looked like Éoganán might win, but the glow of the embers of Cul Drebne seem to have faded quickly because within a short time Aedan and Columba-Crimthann had agreed that Columba-Crimthann would support Aedan’s political claims if Aedan would “forget” about Columba-Crimthann’s earlier opposition to his kingship and allow him to remain in Dalriada. This deal suited Aedan because he had more to concern him than his animosity toward Columba-Crimthann; he was determined to secure the independence of Dalriada Scotland from Dalriada Ireland. If he had to compromise with Columba-Crimthann, who had powerful political connections in Ireland, to win over the Christians of Irish Dalriada, he would do it. Columba-Crimthann still had influence, and Aedan, ever the political operator, would not have failed to make use of this, and
make use of this he did the following year at the great council of Drumceatt.

The most weighty evidence concerns the Christian Columba-Crimthann because most of it was written by his apologists or was censored by them. Consequently, there is little direct evidence of the doings of lay-people, such as Aedan and Arthur. Judging by the evidence that has survived what probably happened was this. When Éoganán, Duncan, and Columba-Crimthann proved to be immoveable—at least, by peaceful means—Aedan decided that the kingdom should go to the strongest—that is, to him. He then preempted the traditional and legitimate decision-making process by marching on Dunardry-Dunadd and occupying it, probably without much, if any opposition, given that he had struck first and so had the advantage of surprise. This did not mean that Aedan was secure in Dalriada, far from it.

Aedan had still to meet Éoganán’s main force in battle, and so his position was tenuous. Anxious to add at least a veneer of legitimacy to what was, in effect, a coup d’état, Aedan took steps to have himself inaugurated king. (By ancient tradition, Scots kings were inaugurated, not crowned.) It was in his interest to ensure his inauguration was in accordance with the ways of the people of Dalriada, Picts and Scots both, and so the inauguration ceremony had to take of place on the summit of Dunadd, the place where the Scots of Scottish-Dalriada and before them the Scots and Picts and before them the Picts alone, had inaugurated their leaders. Like the rocks at Edinburgh and Stirling, Dunadd Rock is an obvious place for inauguration ceremonies, because like Edinburgh and Stirling rocks it, literally, stands out in the landscape.

Inauguration on the summit of Dunadd would have enabled Aedan to demonstrate that he was the de facto ruler of Dalriada or, at least, that he was powerful enough to command its two main capital forts, Dunardry being a short hop away, across a marsh. Inauguration on the summit of Dunadd would send out a signal to the undecided that Aedan was the man to support.

The Picts and Scots who lived in Argyll before Arthur’s great-great grandfather Fergus arrived there had performed their special ceremonies on Dunadd.

In about 500 came a fresh invasion … from … Ireland, led this time by the three sons of Erc. [Fergus Mac Erc] now established a new Scottish dynasty taking as their capital the rock-fortress of Dunadd … There to this day you may see, carved in the solid rock, the wild boar that was their heraldic and dynastic symbol and the footmarks where successive monarchs stood to be crowned [sic] …
¹⁴

There is also, carved in the solid rock, the shape of a bowl, although the exact use to which this was put is unknown.

The Stone of Destiny, the stone upon which by ancient tradition Scots monarchs sat when they were inaugurated, had been brought to Scotland from Ireland by Fergus, Arthur’s great-great grandfather.
¹⁵
Fergus kept the Stone of Destiny in the fortress town of Beregonium, modern-day Benderloch in the north of Argyll. This was the land of the chiefs of Lorne, the same chiefs who had recently rebelled against Conall and who were, by the above account, Aedan’s allies, and so it would have been easy for Aedan to have the Stone of Destiny brought south. Given Aedan’s easy access to the Stone of Destiny he would undoubtedly have used it at his inauguration.

In 1902, John Crichton-Stuart said, in his
Scottish Coronations
,
¹⁶
that the people in the Lordship of the Isles used a flat stone into which a footprint was cut in their ceremonies of inauguration. Apparently the chief-to-be, dressed in white, entered into a covenant with the people by placing his bare foot in the stone. He was then presented with a white wand and a sword, symbolizing his duty to do justice and defend the people. The “white” elements in this account hark of the druids and echo Pliny the Elder, who told of druids clad in white robes cutting mistletoe from oak trees and catching it in white cloths. (Merlin-Lailoken, a druid, lived outside the Royal Town of Partick, at
Ard Airigh
(modern Ardery Street) on the banks of the River Clyde, next to the White Island of the Druids, which, although it has been dredged away, is still commemorated in the modern district name, Whiteinch.) The references to white are clear, albeit inconclusive evidence that the druids of the Old Way had a part to play in these inauguration ceremonies.

Having placed his bare foot in the stone—according to John McLeod in his book
Highlanders
—the Lord of the Isles then turned “sunwise” three times, taking in the four points of the compass, while brandishing the sword to the acclaim of all.
¹⁷
It has long been supposed that footprints carved into rocks were part of pre-Christian inauguration ceremonies, symbolizing the king’s union with the land and so with his people. There are two footprints at Clickhimin, Shetland; there was one outside the church at Wedale in the borders (where Arthur fought and won a battle against the Angles), and we must suppose there was a footprint somewhere in the Lordship of the Isles. It may reasonably be inferred that something similar to the events that occurred when a Lord of the Isles was inaugurated occurred at Dunadd in 574 when Aedan was made king.

In 574 Aedan was inaugurated king of the Scots when he sat on the Stone of Destiny on the summit of Dunadd before the people of Dalriada. He then placed his foot in the footprint shape carved into the stone and brandished a sword to the four points of the compass, while his supporters (and those who thought it wise to pretend to be his supporters) cheered his elevation. A bard then recited his lineage to demonstrate to all present his “right” to the throne, even though no one could have been in any doubt that Aedan’s inauguration was only taking place because of his military might.

Aedan cannot have forgotten that his great-grandfather Fergus died within a year of becoming king of the Scots and that Fergus’s successor, Aedan’s grandfather, Domangart, was dead some six years after that. Aedan’s father, Gabhran, had died soon after defeat in battle, probably of his wounds. Aedan must have known that being a king of the Scots was a dangerous business, even when that king was universally recognized and there was no internal opposition.

He must also have known that he would soon have to fight to secure his throne and so he would also have appreciated how important it was to have a recognized successor if there was to be a smooth succession in the event of his death. There was also the real danger of assassination. This could be lessened if, in the event of his death, it was accepted that his tanist would succeed and that consequently nothing would change to the advantage of the assassin’s party.

Aedan could increase the chances of a smooth succession and decrease his chances of being assassinated if he appointed as tanist someone who was loyal to him and in a position to take command should he be killed. Arthur had distinguished himself at Arderydd (as evidenced by the place-names Arthuret and Arthur Seat that would in years to come be found about the battlefield) and so was an obvious choice to be tanist. Arthur was about fifteen years old when his father became king of the Scots

If Arthur was his father’s tanist, his inauguration as such probably took place at the same ceremony at which his father was inaugurated king. Civil war was looming and there would have been no time to gather people together again for a separate ceremony.

Arthur would not have sat on the Stone of Destiny—that was for kings alone—but, like the Lord of the Isles and whoever used the footprints carved in the stones in Shetland and in the Borders, Arthur would have symbolized his union with the people and the land by putting his foot into the footprint carved into the stone of Dunadd and, just as his father had, by brandishing a sword to the four points of the compass. When he stepped out of the footprint carved into the stone on the summit of Dunadd, Arthur, quite literally, took a sword from a stone and, although he could not have known it at the time, stepped into legend.

All it takes is a little lateral thinking. Arthur took a sword from a stone but it was not, as Malory said, stuck in a stone or an anvil; Arthur took a sword from a stone the same way someone might take a book from a room. If one person told another person that a third person had taken a book from a room, the person who was told this would not think the book had been stuck in the floor or in the wall of the room. That would be ridiculous.

However, by the time men like Malory came to write of a legendary Arthur, the historical events upon which the legend was based had been told and retold to such an extent that much of their underlying truth had been lost. By the time Malory came to write his marvelous story of the sword in the stone, the Celtic Britons of the south had been conquered: first by the Germanic Anglo-Saxons and then by the Scandinavian-Gallic Norman-French.

These people did not understand the ways of the Celts of the sixth
century or, if they did, were disinclined to propagate them. However, I suspect the broad truth that Arthur was a man of the north was generally known and that it was deliberately changed to disguise the fact that Arthur was a Celt and, worse still, a Scot.

In fairness to Malory, his telling of the story of the sword and the stone story is magnificent and it may be he simply wrote it the way he did because it was a commercial crowd-pleaser. But to the Christians who controlled almost all communications for one thousand years after the time of Arthur, the ceremony of the sword and the stone would have smacked of the Old Way. This would have been unbearable. This was a matter of choosing a “king” (at least it was according to Malory), and choosing a king was too important a matter to be left to anybody other than the Church.

Consequently, Malory went to great lengths to ensure the sword and the stone episode took place under the authority of an Archbishop of Canterbury, despite the fact that there were no Archbishops of Canterbury at that time (whenever that time is held to have been by those who favor a southern Arthur): “So the Archbishop, by the advice of Merlin, sent for all the lords of the realm … that they should come to London by Christmas, upon pain of cursing …”
¹⁸
The Christian influence in this passage is palpable. Malory clearly felt he had to make it clear that when it came to choosing a king, the Church had to be in control. Pure storytelling demanded that Merlin be the main mover in the story, but Malory was not brave enough to put storytelling first and so bowed to the power of the Church.

Even this was not good enough for Malory: he was extra-cautious. For Malory even taking a sword from a stone was too close to the truth—too close to the earth, too close to nature, too close to the Old Way. Just to be on the safe side, he added something manmade to the sword and stone story to act as a buffer between him and any suggestion of the Old Way. He had Arthur take a sword from an anvil that was set on top of the stone. This cover-up of the part the Old Way had to play in Arthur taking a sword from a stone has been effective for more than 500 years.

All it takes to see what had really happened is a little lateral thinking and a little knowledge of the time and place where Arthur Mac Aedan
lived. If Arthur Mac Aedan was not inaugurated tanist at Dunadd in 574 and so did not take a sword from a stone, then quite a few coincidences exist that need to be explained, not least among them the connections between Merlin’s presence at Arderydd in 573 and Arthur Mac Aedan’s presence at Dunardry in 574 and at Badon in the shadow of Dunadd.

Despite the best efforts of Malory, Geoffrey, and all the other writers who favor a southern Christian Arthur, the Arthurian canon is clearly steeped in the Old Way. This has led some to tortuous lengths to explain elements that are obviously not Christian. One has written, “Whatever is pagan in the Arthurian material was knowingly put there by medieval authors. They may even have done it in jest.”
¹⁹

It is more likely that the opposite is true and that Christian writers in the thousand years that followed the time of Arthur went to extraordinary lengths to minimize references to the Old Way, to create a Christian basis for the legendary stories of Arthur. The truth is not that a few “Pagan” elements have sneaked into the Arthurian canon but that Christian propagandists have been unsuccessful in censoring all the many references to the Old Way of the druids in the early sources, despite their best efforts.

As for these references being there as jests, this is preposterous. By any reading of almost any early Christian source, it will be clear that one of the things early Christian writers lacked entirely was even a hint of a sense of humor.

T
ODAY MOST PEOPLE
think the sword and the stone episode is pure fantasy, and, of course, in its magical details it is, but, it is also fundamentally true, as can be seen when it is set not in fiction but in history, in the place and time where it occurred: in Dalriada, Argyll, in the year 574, when Arthur Mac Aedan, the man who became the legendary Arthur truly took a sword from a stone.