“It so often doesn’t happen,” said Tamsyn as they finished making a bed.
“What are your dreams, Tamsyn?”
“I’ll tell you as soon as I know,” the girl said with a smile.
“You don’t fancy this sort of job, full time?”
“No thanks. Not that I’m ungrateful, but I’m sure there’s more to life than this.”
“Oh, believe me, there is, but beggars can’t be choosers.”
“What dreams did you have to shelve?” she asked Mary.
Mary’s face took on a wistful look.
“Now, there’s a question. Too many dreams and few were realistic enough to fulfil. I really wanted to be a dancer, you know, like on the old Top of the Pops, or music videos. I was a good dancer, but I was never the bean pole. I was always a bit heavy, so that was a wasted dream. I had a good singing voice and used to sing in a band. That’s how we met. I was singing in a club and he walked in”
“Why didn’t you keep going?”
“The band wasn’t that good, and they all got better offers. We went our separate ways about six months later.”
“So, no dreams these days?”
Mary looked about her.
“I’d like to make this place really nice, like a proper hotel with a better class of guest prepared to pay decent prices. You know, with a top class chef and a thriving restaurant.”
“That’s realistic,” Tamsyn said.
“Yeah, right,” said Mary with a sad smile, “if we won the lottery.”
It was a little before nine when her front doorbell announced that Gwen had a visitor.
“Sorry it’s so late; I had to help Mary clear away dinner,” Tamsyn said, as Gwen let her into the cottage.
“Wow; nice place!” the girl said, looking at the cluttered living room. There were books everywhere.
“Tea?” asked Gwen.
“If you’re having one, otherwise I’m fine.”
Moments later they both sat at the dining table that was groaning under the weight of books and papers. Gwen handed a mug of tea to Tamsyn.
“Any luck?” she asked Gwen.
“Some,” she replied, pulling out a thick notebook covered in neat handwriting.
“Okay, first is the Arthur of legends.”
“King Arthur, right?”
“That’s the legend. I think I’m convinced that Arthur wasn’t a king, as such. That was all the works of fiction by romantic writers long past the date it question. No, I am pretty sure that Art-wr was not one man, but a title, probably held by several men and meaning not so just a king but as a Royal Warlord and Commander. The role was more than just a ruler of a people group, as it also encompassed his right to command the warriors of that people group with absolute authority.
“There are three possible origins, about which even the finest scholars have never been able to agree. The first origin of the Welsh name “Arthur” is in some doubt, but it may well be derived from the Roman family name of “Artorius.”
“Some scholars have suggested it is relevant to this debate that the legendary King Arthur's name only appears as Arthur, or Arturus, in early Latin Arthurian texts, never as Artōrius. However, this may not say anything about the origin of the name Arthur, as Artōrius would regularly become Arthur when borrowed into Welsh.”
Gwen noticed that Tamsyn’s eyes were starting to glaze over, so she laughed.
“I’m sorry, this must be terribly boring, but there is a point to it, I promise. You see, another possibility is that it is derived from a Brittonic patronym - Arto-rīg-ios, the root of which - arto-rīg- “bear-king” is to be found in the Old Irish personal name Art-ri, via a Latinised form Artōrius. Less likely is the commonly proposed derivation from Welsh arth “bear” + (g)wr “man”, earlier Arto-uiros in Brittonic; there are phonological difficulties with this theory, notably that a Brittonic compound name Arto-uiros should produce Old Welsh Artgur and Middle/Modern Welsh Arthwr and not Arthur.”
“Gwen, is there really a point to all this?” Tamsyn asked.
“Yes, I promise, there is. You see, an alternative theory, which has gained only limited acceptance among professional scholars, derives the name Arthur from Arcturus, the brightest star in the constellation Boötes, near the Great Bear. Classical Latin Arcturus would also have become Arthur when borrowed into Welsh, and its brightness and position in the sky led people to regard it as the “guardian of the bear”, which is the meaning of the name in Ancient Greek, and the “leader” of the other stars in Boötes.
“A similar first name is Old Irish Artúr, which is believed to be derived directly from an early Old Welsh or Cumbric Artur. The earliest historically attested bearer of the name is a son or grandson of Aidan MacGabrain, who died in AD 609.”
“So, which one is most likely?” Tamsyn asked.
“That’s a good question. You see, I’m convinced that the title, which may well be linked with the concept of Guardian of the Bear, was an actual title bestowed on tribal leaders in post Roman, Celtic Britain for those men to lead campaigns against foreign invaders. The legends that became attributed to one man were in fact a series of events that may have occurred over several generations, and involved more than one bearer of the title. You see, I think the first one may very well have been a locally-born Roman military Commander when the Romans left in around 400 AD. There would have been a vacuum of power, which all manner of invading hordes would have seen as a neon light. It stands to reason that local people could have rallied behind a strong military commander, and he would have wanted his line to continue. If his title and sword were handed on to his son, and so on, the legend is born.”
“Which means?”
“That there was never one individual King called Arthur. It could be similar to the name ‘Pharaoh’ in Egypt, except any second or qualifying name was simply forgotten. Indeed, the symbol of office might just have been more important than the men who held it.”
“The sword?”
“Precisely. Now, exactly what sword it was has been blurred by those who wrote fictional stories about Arthur and his activities. There was the Sword in the Stone that existed simply for Arthur to pull out and thereby signify to the world that he was worthy to be King of the Britons. Then, there was Excalibur, which came from the Lady of the Lake and allegedly went back to the same lake, to be caught by a lady’s arm and taken back under the water.”
Tamsyn had to smile at Gwen’s unconvinced expression.
“I take it you’re not convinced by those stories?”
“Hardly, they’re the romantic piffle of men who saw their chance for fame and possibly fortune by creating a good yarn. Now, my research has revealed that Excalibur or Caliburn is the legendary sword of King Arthur, sometimes attributed with magical powers or associated with the rightful sovereignty of Great Britain. That would add credence to my theory of Arthur being a blood line or title rather than one man. Sometimes, Excalibur and the Sword in the Stone are said to be the same weapon, but in most versions they are considered separate. The sword was associated with the Arthurian legend very early. In Welsh, the sword is called Caledfwlch; in Cornish, the sword is called Calesvol; in Breton, the sword is called Kaledvoulc'h; in Latin, the sword is called Caliburnus.”
“So, there was definitely a sword?”
“Swords were commonly the symbol of leadership stretching right back into pre-history. The British Crown Jewels still retain a sword as part of the traditional garb of the monarch, so it is a reasonable assumption. However, virtually all the so called ‘histories’ were written after 1100 AD, so this would be around 500 years after the events. This was a time whereby the Normans were securely ensconced in England, and so, the Saxons were becoming the downtrodden minority, and the Celts were pushed to the nether regions of the islands even more than before. On a local level, there was probably more integration, but in the major cities, less so. You have to remember that the Danes and other Norse peoples had taken much of the eastern side of the country from the Saxons, so there were many legends and stories all mingling with each other from very different traditions and sources.