The Element Encyclopedia of the Celts

AGRICOLA

See Aircol.

AILLEL MOLT

The High King of Ireland in the late fifth century. There were several major kings in Ireland, of Leinster, Munster, Connacht, Ui Neill, and Uliad, with many petty kings and sub-kings beneath them. Aillel Molt was their overking. He was killed by an alliance of Irish kings in the Battle of Ocha in 482. Then the High Kingship fell to King Loegaire’s son Lugid.

AIRCOL

A Dark Age king of Demetia (south-west Wales), Aircol was also known by the Latin form of his name, Agricola. His father’s personal name was forgotten by the chroniclers, who referred to him only as “The Tribune.”

Dark Age Celtic leaders valued what was to them a precious Roman legacy; in their minds, using Latin gave them higher status, and they invariably used it on their memorial stones, sometimes alongside their native Celtic names. For example, a sixth-century memorial stone near Chesterholm is inscribed: “Brigomaglos, who is also Briocus, [lies] here.”

Aircol was one of the two Dark Age kings Gildas praised. He was also mentioned as an exemplary warrior hero by Taliesin. Cynan Garwyn of Powys was described in battle in Aircol’s own kingdom, as “like Aircol himself on the rampage.”

Aircol died in 515 and was succeeded by his son Gordebar, or Vortipor the Protector.

AMBIANI

A Celtic tribe in Gaul, with its main center at Samarobriva (later Amiens). In 57 BC, the year of Julius Caesar’s campaign against the Belgae, the Ambiani were said to be able to raise 10,000 armed men to fight. They joined the great Gaulish rebellion against Rome.

AMBIORIX

The chief of the Eburones tribe in Gaul at the time of the Battle of Alesia (see Places: Alesia).

AMBROSIUS AURELIANUS

The battle leader, or dux bellorum, of the British in their struggle against the Anglo-Saxons. He was the leader who succeeded Vortigern (and may have been responsible for ousting him from power) and immediately preceded Arthur. It is odd that he is mentioned by the sixth-century historian Gildas, then in the eighth century by Nennius, but by no other historian until the Middle Ages. He nevertheless existed. Gildas describes him as a modest man, which is a surprising quality in a battle leader.

He appears to have been a Celtic nobleman and it has been suggested that the “Ambros” place-names may represent the stations of the units that he raised and led, styled Ambrosiaci. This is an attractive idea, but it is unclear how Amberley, deep in West Sussex and very close to the south Saxon heartland, could possibly have functioned as such a base for Celtic troops.

The Latinized form, Ambrosius, of the Celtic name Ambros or Emrys may have been given by a chronicler, or adopted by Emrys himself as a badge of formal respectability, something that many other British noblemen did (see Aircol). It does not prove, as some have proposed, that he was a member of a Roman family who stayed on after the Roman troops left. He represents a class of post-Roman native British aristocrats who clung to an older order of things and disapproved of Vortigern’s reckless politicking with the untrustworthy Germanic colonists.

It is likely that Ambrosius was a focus for dissent among the Britons over the way Vortigern was leading the confederation to disaster.

Gildas describes how Ambrosius’ leadership marked the beginning of a more successful phase for the British:

When the cruel plunderers [the Saxons attacking the British in about 460] had gone back to their settlements, God gave strength to the survivors [the British]. Wretched people flocked to them from all directions, as eagerly as bees when a storm threatens, begging burdening heaven with unnumbered prayers that they should not be destroyed. Their leader was Ambrosius Aurelianus, a gentleman who, perhaps alone of the Romanized Britons, had survived the shock of this great storm [the Saxon invasion of Britain]; certainly his parents, who may have worn the purple, were slain in it. Under him our people regained their strength and challenged the victors to battle.

After this the British started to win battles, and they were eventually rewarded with the overwhelming victory at Badon.

Another view of Ambrosius comes from Nennius’ Miscellany. There Ambrosius is “the great king among all the kings of the British nation.” This may mean only that his reputation grew steadily after his death, that he was promoted by history, rather as Arthur would be a little later. It may alternatively be a genuine reflection of Ambrosius’ status as dux bellorum.

Interestingly Cynan of Powys was later to be called Aurelianus, which may have been another title of the dux bellorum.

Although it is not known where Ambrosius came from or where he lived, Amesbury in Wiltshire is possible. Amesbury was spelt “Ambresbyrig” in a charter dated 880 and may derive its name directly from Ambrosius himself. If he held Salisbury Plain as his estate, or at any rate this part of it, he would have controlled the critical north-eastern corner of Dumnonia. The frontier of Dumnonia was marked by an earthwork called the Wansdyke, and it lies 7 miles (12km) north-east of Amesbury. Where Ambrosius’ stronghold was is not known, but it may have been the Iron Age hillfort known as Vespasian’s Camp, just 1 mile (1.6km) to the east of Stonehenge. This spacious fort would have made an excellent rallying-point for the forces Ambrosius gathered; it would also make sense of the otherwise inexplicable association that Geoffrey of Monmouth made between Ambrosius and Stonehenge.

From about 460 Ambrosius is said to have organized an island-wide resistance of the British to the Anglo-Saxon invasion. His campaign prospered. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle is silent about this period, suggesting that the British were in the ascendancy; there is no boasting of a Saxon victory until 473. Gildas enthused about Ambrosius: “though brave on foot, he was braver still on horseback.” This implies a preference for cavalry action, which his successor, Arthur, would share. “The Britons fled to him like swarms of bees who fear a coming storm. They fought the war with Ambrosius as their leader.”

Fanciful legends were later embroidered round this heroic figure. It was said that in Ambrosius’ reign Merlin the magician brought the stones of Stonehenge over from Ireland and set them up in Wiltshire. This does not square with the geology or archeology of Stonehenge. The sarsen stones came from the chalk downs near Avebury; the bluestones came from Pembrokeshire. Both arrived on Salisbury Plain in the middle of the third millennium BC—and that was long, long before the time of Ambrosius Aurelianus.

AMMINIUS

One of three sons of Cunobelin. The Catuvellaunian kings enlarged their sphere of influence to include Kent, which became Amminius’s fiefdom, with Canterbury as his capital. There was some kind of family quarrel, as a result of which in AD 40 Amminius fled to Rome—the Rome of the emperor Caligula. His arrival with some sort of complaint about the way he had been treated gave Caligula a welcome pretext to reopen the question of Britain.

Julius Caesar had failed to annex Britain for the Roman Empire, but it was still on the wish list for conquest. The strength of Catuvellaunian control in south-eastern Britain was such that an invasion could not be undertaken lightly. If the divine Julius could not conquer Britain, could Caligula conquer it? In AD 40 he got as far as the Channel coast at Boulogne before losing his nerve and returning to Rome.

In AD 43, after the assassination of Caligula, his successor, Claudius, determined to invade, and he succeeded.

ANEIRIN

See The Gododdin.

ART

Celtic art has often been compared with classical art, the art of Iron Age Greece and Rome, and been found wanting. European and North American artists of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries tended to look to classical models.

Celtic art comes closer in spirit to some of the art movements of the twentieth century. The Celtic artist looked at a model, whether human or animal or part of the physical landscape, and tried to reduce it to its raw essentials. The aim was to simplify and so draw attention to certain raw qualities or characteristics. The carving might be done with care, without necessarily producing a “realistic” representation of the model. The same is true of the bronzes, many of which have survived in good condition. The Matisse-like figurine of a naked woman dancing is a superb piece of Celtic art: rhythmic, free, and uninhibited.

As for the images, reduced to their essentials, they could appear rough, crude, and massive. These works can be visually reminiscent of Henry Moore’s sculptures, and they have a similar presence.

Sometimes there was a desire to make images ambiguous. It is difficult to be sure whether the legs of Cernunnos have actually turned into writhing serpents or if he is simply standing behind the snakes. It is as if the artist was deliberately setting up a visual riddle. The pairing of Cernunnos, the antlered god, with his companion, the stag, in itself suggests a bond between them. But to give both stag and god identical antlers is taking the statement a step further, toward shapeshifting. Can the stag and the god actually transform into one another? Are they in fact two manifestations of the same being?

The weirdness of some images is intentional; this is the weirdness of the Otherworld—the dream world where people and gods can mingle, and where the living can meet the dead. It is the strange world we inhabit, or migrate to, when we fall asleep.

One of the finest pieces of artwork from Britain in the first century AD is the Battersea shield—if judged by classical standards. This piece of Romano-Celtic bronze parade armor was deposited in the Thames River at Battersea, and probably left there deliberately.

The bronze-covered iron helmet found at Agris in Charente must have been made for ceremonial use. It is covered in fine detail in low relief, with gold and coral inlays added: an astonishingly sophisticated piece of metalwork, more crown than helmet.

The distinctive art style that we generally recognize as Celtic is really the linear art that began with the La Tène culture. It consists of a decorative line that curves sinuously in an S-shape, often repeatedly and rhythmically, sometimes symmetrically, and sometimes not. The S-shape was often developed with eddies and circles to make very elaborate patterns. The style reached its peak long after the La Tène culture was over, indeed long after the Celts generally had lost their political and cultural dominance in Europe, when even their religious beliefs had been overwhelmed and supplanted. The peak was reached in the illuminated gospels drawn and painted by monks in the eighth and ninth centuries AD, works such as The Book of Kells and The Lindisfarne Gospels.

The minutely elaborate detailing of The Book of Kells was described by a visitor in 1185 as “the work of an angel,” and so it still seems. It is so ornate, so exuberant, so controlled, and so perfect that it can scarcely be the work of human hand. The intricate design was not a sudden late invention, but part of a long tradition that went back to the fourth century BC.

It is hard to single out specific artworks as representing the pinnacle of a culture, but there is general agreement that the illustrated manuscripts of the eighth and ninth centuries AD are the finest productions of Celtic art. There is a certain irony in this. The Celts of pre-Christian, pre-Roman Europe were reluctant writers; the miraculous fusion of elements in the early medieval The Book of Kells is really a masterpiece of calligraphy, the most elaborately decorated writing ever conceived.

ARTHMAEL

St. Arthmael was the son of a noble in Glevissig (Glamorgan), who was probably educated at Illtud’s school. He took holy orders on leaving school. He was a pioneering, crusading Christian and is thought by some to be one of the prototypes for an otherwise fictional Arthur. He decided to give up his property and emigrate to Brittany. When Conomorus killed Jonas of Domnonie, Arthmael withdrew for safety with Judwal of Domnonie along with St. Samson and others. They took refuge for a time with Childebert in Paris. When Arthmael returned to Brittany, he settled at St. Armel near Rennes.

ARTHUR

Possibly the best-known and least-known figure of the Celtic Dark Ages. Everyone knows the name of Arthur, but there are many different views about his historicity. Some scholars think he was a real British king, though not the king of all Britain, while others think he is a complete fiction. My own view is that he was real.

DID HE REALLY EXIST?

There are two certain dated references to Arthur in the Easter Annals, which show that he existed as a prominent historical figure:

516: Battle of Badon, in which Arthur carried the cross of our lord Jesus Christ on his shoulders for three days and three nights, and the British were victors.

537: Strife of Camlann, in which Arthur and Medraut perished [or fell].

There are various scraps of evidence of his celebrity as warrior and war leader, for instance in The Gododdin (a series of elegies) a warrior is compared unfavorably with Arthur—he fought well, though “he was no Arthur.”

The inscriptions on scattered stone memorials created in the sixth century are consistent in content and date with genealogies and other documents that we only have in copies written down much later. In other words, some of the later documents are corroborated by evidence dating from Arthur’s time. A pedigree from Pembrokeshire running to 31 generations mentions a prince named Arthur who lived in the later sixth century and was probably born around 550, just about the time of Arthur’s death according to the Easter Annals. It is possible that the child was named in memory of the king who had recently died.

An argument against Arthur’s existence is that he is not mentioned in The Ruin of Britain by the monk Gildas, written in about 540. “The silence of Gildas” can be explained fairly easily. First, Arthur was so well known by Britons living in the mid-sixth century that they didn’t need Gildas to explain who he was. Secondly, Gildas refers to kings obliquely, by nickname. Contemporary readers would have known exactly who he meant, even if we don’t, and it was his contemporaries Gildas was addressing. But Gildas describes a king called Cuneglasus as “the Bear’s charioteer.” The identity of the Bear is not immediately obvious to us, but Gildas played word games with the names of other kings, referring, for example, to Cynan or Conan as Caninus, the Dog. “The Bear” in Welsh is Arth, which brings us equally close to the name of Arthur. King Cuneglasus might as a young princeling 20 years earlier have served in Arthur’s army, and he might have been given the privileged position of driving Arthur’s chariot. So, Arthur does appear to be mentioned by Gildas after all, even if in disguise.

Some of those scholars who believe that Arthur did not exist argue their case on something very close to conspiracy theory. They begin from the presupposition that he never existed, therefore all the references to him, even in otherwise authentic documents, must be unhistorical, later interpolations, anachronistic intrusions, and corruptions of the text. Once a decision is made that Arthur cannot have existed, any evidence that he did exist must be fake. This is not so far from the conspiracy theory about the Apollo moon landings, which some people like to see as an elaborate hoax. The more evidence that is brought forward to show that the flights to the moon really happened, the more elaborate and cunning it proves the hoax to be.

We could contrast the historic Arthur and the mythic Fionn. Fionn is alleged to have fought with Vikings, but he died in AD 283, which is too early for him to have encountered them. Conversely, the Easter Annals strongly imply that Arthur fought his major campaign against the Saxons in the sixth century, between the Battle of Badon in 516 and the Battle of Camlann in 537, which is exactly the right time—according to the archeology—for him to have been doing that on the eastern boundary of Dumnonia.

WHO WAS ARTHUR?

This scenario converges on the idea that Arthur was primarily the King of Dumnonia. This ancient kingdom is now the English West Country, consisting of Cornwall, Devon, Somerset, and Dorset. Gildas’s peculiar account of the state of Britain, The Ruin of Britain, is really a tortured lament about the poor leadership shown by the Dark Age kingdoms that occupied the English West Country and Wales in the first half of the sixth century. This region coincides exactly with the fourth-century Roman administrative province of Britannia Prima, and it implies that after the Romans abandoned Britain some vestiges of the Roman administrative structure remained.

Certainly by AD 314, when the names appear in the Verona List, Britain was formally divided into four provinces: Prima, Secunda, Maxima Caesariensis, and Flavia Caesariensis. It is possible to visualize a loose confederation of Dark Age kingdoms still functioning in the sixth century within the boundaries of Britannia Prima.

Perhaps the kings of this province went their separate ways most of the time and came together only when there was a common danger. That common danger was the approach of the Saxon colonists, so the many small war-bands of the separate kingdoms needed to be coordinated. In Gail, the Bibracte council in 52 BC agreed on a common strategy: to join forces and resist Rome under the war leadership of one of their kings. In exactly the same way the kings of Britannia Prima agreed to resist the encroachment by the Saxons; and their choice of war leader was Arthur. He was to be dux bellorum, the leader of battles, while that threat existed.

The dates for Arthur’s first and last battles, 516 and 537, give us the span of his later military career, and they imply that he was born in about 475. This would have made him 41, a mature and accomplished commander at the time of Badon, and 62 at the time of Camlann.

A pedigree of unknown reliability exists in the Welsh tradition. Here Arthur was the son of Uther and Ygraine (or Eigr). Ygraine was the daughter of Amlawdd Wledig, who married Gwenn, daughter of Cunedda Wledig. Wledig or gwledig means “king” or “overking,” so Arthur’s maternal line at least was royal. Ygraine had a sister Reiengulid, who was the mother of St. Illtud, which is how Illtud comes to be Arthur’s cousin.

The lack of a well-authenticated (paternal) pedigree for Arthur can be interpreted in many ways. Some say it shows he never existed, while others see it as evidence that he was not of royal blood and others as evidence that he was a usurper. Whatever his origins, Arthur became a king, then overking, and probably through prowess more than birth.

WHERE WAS CAMELOT?

Elsewhere, I have argued that Arthur was initially the sub-king of a small north Cornish territory called Trigg (meaning “three war-bands”), with his home at Castle Killibury, not far from the modern town of Wadebridge. Killibury was a small and discreetly defended hideaway that had a superb view down the Camel estuary, which Arthur probably used as his harbor. In fact imported Dark Age pottery wares have recently been discovered near the seaward end of the estuary.

It is highly significant that early Welsh tradition gives Kelliwic as the name of Arthur’s favorite residence; even the Welsh saw Arthur’s principal home as Castle Killibury. A Welsh Triad lists the places where Arthur held court in Three Tribal Thrones of the Island of Britain. The northern one was at Pen Rhionydd—a place that has not been identified, but thought to near Stranraer in Galloway. The Welsh throne was at St. David’s and the Cornish tribal throne was at Kelliwic. Kelliwic was firmly recognized as Arthur’s base long before any idea of Camelot came up. The poem Culhwch and Olwen mentions five times that Kelli Wic was Arthur’s port. An old name for Castle Killibury is Kelly Rounds and an Anglo-Saxon charter mentions a place called “Caellwic.”

Not far away is Tintagel Island. A significant amount of very high status and very expensive pottery imported from the Mediterranean confirms it as a royal focus of some kind. It was not a permanent settlement but a place for special occasions. The footprint carved into the living rock at the island’s summit marks it as the coronation place: the spot where kings of Trigg (north Cornwall), and perhaps kings of all Dumnonia, came to take their oath and assume the mantle of kingship. This was where Arthur drew his power from the stone (see Places: Tintagel).

Like other Dark Age and medieval kings, Arthur was always on the move. Kings had to peregrinate around their kingdoms in order to be seen by their subjects and maintain the bond of loyalty between king and subject.

Arthur had various muster points where the Dumnonian war-bands could gather before being marched east to engage the Saxons: Warbstow Bury and Lydford were two in the center of Dumnonia; South Cadbury was the major one close to the eastern border, the “war zone.”

One of the many mysteries surrounding Arthur is the location of Camelot, that place of special mystique. It is unlikely to be Castle Killibury. The name “Camelot” strongly suggests a connection with the Celtic war god, Camulos, and if Camelot was named for the war god it is likely to be associated with fighting and with gatherings of the war-bands. Camelot is elusive, for the simplest of reasons: it was not one place, but several. It was mobile; it was wherever Arthur was encamped with his warriors.