GENEALOGY

Kings and princes were entitled to their privileges by birthright, in other words according to who their mothers and fathers were. They therefore had a strong vested interest in establishing and committing to memory their family trees. No doubt these were transmitted orally for countless centuries and written down only from about the seventh century AD onward, when the process of Christianization made written records much commoner {See Writing). The lack of interference from the Romans in Ireland has meant that more in the way of Irish genealogy has survived.

King lists were drawn up and doubtless recited on special occasions by bards. These were designed to establish the king’s entitlement to his position, and doubtless flattering connections with long-dead heroic figures were added as a matter of course. A considerable amount of invention is involved in some of them. The powerfial Irish chiefs of the Middle Ages wanted to be descended from Celtic gods, or from Egyptian pharaohs. But sometimes the names of heroes and kings follow one another in a credible sequence that recurs in other genealogies, and this corroboration inspires more confidence.

According to bardic sources, Slaine the Firbolg was the first High King of Ireland. From the time of his accession to the year 1, there were 107 High Kings: nine Firbolgs, nine Tuatha de Danann, and 89 Milesians. After the rebellion in the first century AD, the High Kingship was reinstated, and after that there was an unbroken line of 81 High Kings until Rory O’Connor who, in 1175, surrendered his overlordship to Henry II of England.

The texture of the bardic genealogies often shows a shift from the mythic to the historic. Conaire Mor was the son of the bird god Nemglan; by contrast Ollamh Foola, the eighteenth High King, who came to the throne in 714 BC, is said to have provided Ireland with its first law code, which has a more historic ring to it.

GERAINT

A Dumnonian (Cornish) king who was bom in about 480 and a contemporary of King Arthur. His pedigree survives. He was Geraint (or Gerontius in Latin), son of Erbin, son of Kynoar, son of Tudwaol, son of Gorwaor, son of Gaden, son of Cynan, son of Eudaf Hen, and known as Geraint Llyngesog, the ‘Elect-owner.”

He was married first to Gwyar, daughter of Amlawdd Wledig, by whom he had four children: Selyf, Cyngar, lestyn, and Cado. He then married Enid, daughter of Ynywl, Lord of Caerleon. Geraint himself was the son of Erbin, who held lands in both south-east Wales and Dumnonia. Early sources name both Geraint and his son and heir Cado or Cato as “rulers who ruled with Arthur.” This supports the idea that there were several Cornish sub-kings, with Arthur as their overking.

The poem Geraint may be a genuine sixth-century poem. It is an elegy for the warriors who fell at the Battle of Llongborth, written in the wake of one of Arthur’s battles (see Funeral Odes). Llongborth means “Port of the Warships” and is thought to be the westernmost of the Saxon Shore Forts: Portchester, at the head of Portsmouth Harbor, a likely location for the battle with the Saxons:

In Llongborth I saw spurs

And men who did not flinch from spears,

Who drank their wine from glass that glinted.

In Llongborth I saw Arthur, heroes who cut with steel, the emperor, ruler of our labour.

In Llongborth, Geraint was slain, heroes of the land of Dyfnant, and before they were slain they slew.

GIFTS

Celtic chiefs competed with each other in the giving of lavish feasts, so feasts should be regarded as a form of gift {See Food and Feasting). There was also a principle of reciprocation: the guest was expected to respond in kind, inviting his host to another banquet.

This set in train an endless cycle of exchanges of food and drink, the purpose of which was to consolidate social ties. Of course the feasts were very enjoyable, but the temptation to be over-zealous was always there, to try to outdo your host. Ariamdes, a Celtic nobleman from Galatia, threw a feast that was so extravagant that it represented a year’s supply of food.

GILDAS

Gildas the Wise was a Celtic monk who lived and wrote in the sixth century. He was bom inAlcluith, the son ofCauus, and possibly the brother of Cuillus, who rebelled against Arthur. He migrated, probably in infancy, to Wales. He attended Illtud’s famous school, along with with Samson and Paul Aurelian.

Gildas preached in north Pembrokeshire in the time of King Tribinus and his sons. He preached in northern Britain, received a message from Brigit, and sent her a bell. He arranged a marriage between Trifina, the daughter of Weroc of Vannes, and the evil tyrant Conomoms (who died in 560). Conomoms cut off Trilina’s head, which Gildas promptly restored.

Gildas wrote strongly condemning the harsh discipline of St. David, and equally strongly supported the milder rule of Illtud and Cadoc of Lancarfan. He returned from a visit to Ireland, visited Cadoc, and supervised the school for a year, writing a Gospel that would later be bound in gold and silver. He spent a winter on Echni (Flat Holm, an island in the Bristol Channel), where he was disturbed by pirates from the Orkneys. After that, in the days when King Melwas ruled Somerset, he went to Glastoubuiy, where he died in 570.

Gildas is of special interest in being the only historian or commentator who was actually writing at the time of Arthur. His theme was the condition of Britain, which he thought was in a poor state politically and morally, though it was a beautifril land. His book opens with a surprisingly lyrical description of Britain’s watery beauty:

This land of such dear souls, this dear, dear land... decked with lucid fountains, abundant brooks wandering over snow white sands, transparent rivers that glide with gentle murmur, lakes which pour forth cool torrents of refreshing water.

Written in Latin in about 540, the book has the title Book of Complaint on the Ruin and Conquest of Britain. Gildas describes a great British leader called Ambrosius Aureliauus initiating an increasingly successful campaign against the Saxons in the run-up to the Battle of Badou, which he identifies as a landmark in history. By 540, the battle, which had been fought 20 or so years earlier, was seen as a watershed engagement: one that marked the end of one phase of history and the start of another, much as Trafalgar or Waterloo would have been perceived by a mid-nineteenth century historian. It is strange that Gildas does not mention Arthur in connection with Badon, as great a puzzle as Aristotle’s total silence regarding his pupil Alexander the Great.

What Gildas was complaining about above all was the complacency of the British. Those who had stmggled to push back the Saxons in the years leading up to Badon had died. The new generation was “ignorant of the storm”—it had no idea what efforts were needed to defend Celtic Britain against the invaders.

It is an articulate and emotionally highly charged account, with a great deal of invective directed at one British ruler after another: Gildas was dissatisfied with nearly all of them. Probably with conscious understatement, he calls his thunderous accusations admonitiuncula, “just a little word of warning.”

The text is largely compiled from biblical quotations, making it more sermon than history. Another frustration is the obscure Latin style Gildas uses, making it rich in ambiguity when what we want is clarity.

There may also have been more than one version. Bede’s specific references to Gildas imply that he, in 731, was working from a different version than the one we have today, and we have no way of knowing which is the more authentic. Gildas died in 570.

THE GODODDEV

A series of elegies in 103 sfanzas about a disastrous expedition of the bodyguard of Mynydd Mwynfawr, King of Din Eidyn (Edinburgh). The expedition was ranged against the Anglians at Catraeth (probably Catterick).

The Gododdin has survived in a single manuscript called The Book of Aneirin. We are told simply, “This is The Gododdin. Aneirin composed it.” The subject matter and the detail tell us that this is a genuine sixth-century Celtic poem. The bard Aneirin lived in the second half of the sixth century. The Gododdin of the title are the men of the Votadini tribe, but the warriors on this expedition include handpicked men from kingdoms all over Britain—Elmet, Clyde, Gwynedd, and Dumnonia— which tells us that communications among the British kingdoms must have been effective and that the Britons were ready to help one another against the Anglo-Saxons {See Alduith).

The Gododdin chief feasted the men for a year at Din Eidyn before sending them to fight the Lloegrwys (the men of England) or the Dewr a Brynaich (the men of Deira and Bymaich). Aneirin comments grimly, “They paid for that feast of mead with their lives.” The British attack on Catraeth was probably pre-emptive, an attempt to annihilate the embryonic Anglian community while it was still relatively small and powerless; the crushing defeat would have been all the more traumatic because it was unexpected.

One line in The Gododdin jumps off the page. A warrior is praised for his fighting prowess, “though he was no Arthur.”