Tyrants and Traders

The archaeology world has been all abuzz over the past month because of a new book by Professor Ken Dark, the man who has been leading excavations at Tintagel. The archaeological side of Tyrants and Traders is really interesting, but what caught the imagination of the media, and even of Time Team, was the final chapter in which Dark has a few thoughts about the possible existence of an historical King Arthur.

The important thing about this book is that it is not written by some amateur historian (like me) having Big Thoughts about 5th and 6th century Britain. It is written by someone who has dedicated his life to the archaeological study of that period, and knows it better than almost everyone. It is not, in other words, woo-woo.

So what does Dark have to tell us. Well, despite the obvious nominative determinism, Dark is fully with other historians and archaeologists in rejecting the term Dark Ages. The point here is that they were not called that because the world went dark in those times (though it did, briefly), or because civilisation collapsed (at least not until the end of the period), but because we have so little written evidence about the period.

The situation has not been helped by the fact that most of the modern histories of the period have been written by English people, who mostly see themselves as descended from the Germanic incomers who took advantage of the weakness of Rome to build a new home in a part of the Empire that the legions had abandoned. The English, in general, do not like to think of themselves as filthy barbarians coming over to Britannia and wrecking what was left of Roman Britain. Rather they prefer to think that, when the legions left, civilization left too. See Bernard Cornwell’s Arthur trilogy for classic example of this.

Because of this, Dark also dislikes the use of the term ‘Early Mediaeval’ for 5th and 6th century Britain. There is little characteristically mediaeval about it, and he prefers the term ‘Late Antiquity’ with its implications of a continuation of Rome.

What Dark’s archaeology, and that of his colleagues, reveals is that this was civilisational collapse absolutely did not happen, at least not immediately. Roman Britain, that is a country that thought of itself as Roman, and was peopled by people who enjoyed a Roman lifestyle, continued through much of the 5th and 6th centuries, especially in the western half of the island. There was extensive trading with the Mediterranean, with Iberia, and with Byzantium. Through Byzantium and Alexandria there was doubtless trade with places much further east. The wealthy villa-owners of post-Roman Britain would not want to do without pepper, and the only place you could get that was India.

Ports like Tintagel were a key part of this trade. Being on the west coast, they were relatively free of the Germanic pirates who plagued the north sea. And Tintagel was also far enough south to be out of range of most of the Irish pirates. That contrasts with Moridunum (Carmarthen) which did mostly close down, because the Irish were at the gates.

Something else the Romano-British seem to have done is re-occupy hillforts. Cadbury castle in Somerset, often linked to Camelot, is one place where Dark has evidence of increased activity in the 5th and 6th centuries.

There were a number of factors that led to the downfall of Roman Britain, and the withdrawal of the official legionary presence was only one of them. We seem to have done OK for around a hundred years. But in the mid 6th century two significant events crippled the Romano-British economy.

The first is known to climate scientists as the 536 Event. This was a volcanic winter caused by eruptions, probably in south-east Asia, that resulted in a darkening of the skies and an average temperature drop of around 2.5 C across Europe. Further eruptions in 539 and 540 prolonged the cool period, with disastrous effects on crops.

The other event is what is known as the Justinian Plague, after the reigning emperor in Byzantium at the time. This was an early outbreak of bubonic plague and, like the Black Death, it led to the deaths of huge numbers of people. Procopius, Justinian’s court historian, estimated that around 20% of the population of Byzantium died.

The important point as far as Britain was concerned is that the plague was spread by trade. That meant that it hit the surviving Romano-British much harder than the incoming Saxons and their allies.

That, then, is what put an end to Roman-style civilisation in Britain. A weakened economy, and large numbers of deaths (including, most famously, King Maelgwyn of Gwynedd) left the country much less fit to resist conquest from the east. Prior to that, we should imagine things carrying on much as they did under Rome.

There is also a linguistic side of the story. It is generally believed that the word ‘Wales’, which is a Saxon word, means ‘the land of the foreigners’. However, the Saxons and their relatives had other words for foreigners too. The word ‘Wales’ (and also Walloonia in Belgium) seems to have been used more or less exclusively for people who still practiced Roman lifestyles. So rather than translating ‘Welsh’ as meaning ‘foreigners’, we should perhaps translate it as meaning ‘the Romans’.

What, then, of Arthur? Well, there is still no contemporary evidence of any king of that name. Gildas, our most contemporary source, who hated pretty much everyone with political power, makes no mention of him. However, there are sources mentioning the name. As far as we know, there are no inscriptions involving anyone called Arthur or Artorius dating from Roman Britain. But in the 6th and 7th centuries there was a sudden fashion for the sons of Romano-British kings to be called Arthur. Dark’s argument (and I don’t think he is the first person to have suggested this) is that these princes must have been named after someone of note, because the names of princes are always chosen very carefully.

Dark notes that there was an historical king called Arthur ap Pedr who was king of Dyfed in the late 6th century, and therefore a contemporary of Saint David. Nothing else seems to connect him to the great warrior of legend, but at least he is an actual, historical King Arthur who lived in south Wales. And that has been enough to create a media frenzy.

I’m sure that my good friend Hal Duncan will dispute this strongly as he is working on an Arthurian book which sets the whole saga in southern Scotland (for which position there is much reasonable evidence). Lucy Holland may disagree too. Her Constantine of Dumnonia (Cornwall and Devon) is a real, historical figure, and in Sistersong he has a tutor called Myrdhin and a girlfriend called Gwen. The beauty of Arthuriana is that we can’t prove anything, so a wide range of interpretations are equally valid. Dark’s book doesn’t change that, but it provides plenty of useful background on the world in which an historical Arthur would have existed.

Title: Tyrants and Traders
By: Ken Dark
Publisher: Bloomsbury Academic
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