Tag Archives: Powys

09/8/12

Sharing some pics from Wales …

My husband has kept these hidden on his drive until now, so I hadn’t even seen them!

 

These two pictures were taken on a nothing of a road from Devil’s Bridge (east of Aberystwyth) through the Elan Valley to Cilmeri.  The road was protected by a cattle guard on either end, was really only one lane (albeit paved), and we saw two cars and a million sheep for the two hours we were on it.

 

The rock is broken over the English translation and at first I couldn’t believe what it said.  It is at ‘Llywelyn’s Well’, which you reach by following a narrow path and some stairs behind his monument at Cilmeri.  It should read “Legend has it that this is the well where the head of Llywelyn ap Gruffydd was washed.”

Dinas Bran:

 

Dolwyddelan and Dolbadarn:

 

 

07/17/12

The Great Prophecy of Britain

Armes Prydein Fawr, the Great Prophecy of Britain, is a poem attributed to Taliesin (although could not be his work as it was composed in the 10th century) in which he sings of the return of Cadwaladr ap Cadwallon (the hero in my book, The Last Pendragon) and Cynan, another dark age leader of the Welsh people.  Among the Welsh, it was these two, not Arthur, who would return in the future to save Britain.  The motivation was the same, however, in that the poet desires to drive the invading Saxons out of the land that had belonged to the Cymry.

In the poem, Taliesin predicts the allliance of the Irish and Scots with the Welsh towards that purpose.  John Davies, in his book, The History of Wales, writes that the poem expresses frustration with the peaceful, compromising policies of Hywel Dda (c. 930)  towards the Saxons (2007:93).  Further, the poem finds the root of its anguish in the deep sense of loss which became the motivating force behind much of Welsh mythology–the loss of their country to the Saxons after the fall of Rome (2007:48).

Cadwaladr ap Cadwallon was a King of Gwynedd, born in 633 AD.  His father, a powerful king himself who’d allied himself with Mercia in marrying Alcfrith, sister of King Penda, was killed in battle in 634.  With Cadwallon’s death, Gwynedd was left in disarray, and Cadwaladr’s people (whoever they were–there is no record of what happened to Alcfrith so perhaps she died in childbirth), fled Gwynedd with him.  His place was taken by a man named Cadfael of unknown origin.

http://www.earlybritishkingdoms.com/bios/cadwagd.html

Cadwaladr grew up and returned to overthrow the usurper, ruling from 655 to 682 AD and is recorded by Geoffrey of Monmouth as the last great King of Wales.  Consequently, anything that we ‘know’ about Cadwaladr that is based on his story, is probably apocryphal.  What is well established is that the red dragon of Wales–The Red Dragon of Cadwaladr–is attributable to him.

Far less is known about Cynan, who ruled in the middle/late 6th century Powys in the east and southeast of Wales.

http://www.earlybritishkingdoms.com/bios/cynangpw.html

From Taliesin’s poem (not a fabulous translation, but a free one

http://www.maryjones.us/ctexts/t06.html):

With sharp-ground blades utterly they will kill.
There will be no advantage to the physician from what they do.
The armies of Cadwaladyr, mighty they come,
The Cymry were exalted, a battle they made.
A slaughter without measure they assailed.
In the end of their taxes, death they know.
0thers, large branches they planted.
For age of ages their taxes they will not leave off.
In wood, in plain, on lull,
A candle in the dark will go with them.
Cynan opening a forward way in every descent.
Saxons against the Brython, woe they will sing.
Cadwaladyr a pillar with his princes.
Though prudence utterly attending to then.
When they drop their covering over their support.
In affliction, and the crimson gore on the cheeks of the Allmyn.
At the end of every expedition spoil they lead.

Also included in the Book of Taliesin is an enigmatic poem, cut off almost before it begins.  It is called The Prediction of Cadwaladr.

The knight of the swift bay horse
with the double face, creates turmoil:
With treachery afoot, a blessing his
death and burial in Snowdonia.
When our war-lord comes he will make,
in a mead in Prydein, a chief place.
His manifest life will invigorate morals:
and his confines will be to us an Eden.
There will come, thither,
A Saxon seeking hospitality.
Grief he will know; from excess
of presumption, he will sin
The yoking of a wife by a vassal
will renew old hatred: he will
know grief: from presumption
comes contempt; he commits treason.
Did you see my friend
playing with my spouce?
I saw a slim corse,
and crows full of activity.
But the catastrophe lacks the prostrate form
of the sword-stroke.
And beyond the bank of…  (the manuscript is cut off)

09/18/11

Caer Fawr (Iron Age Hill Fort)

Caer Fawr, or ‘The Great Fort’, is the scene of the final battle in The Pendragon’s Quest.  It is an iron age hill fort with extensive fortifications, most of which are hidden now by vegetation.  The Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Wales did a study of Caer Fawr and if you’re interested in the topic, it’s worth downloading:  http://www.rcahmw.gov.uk/LO/ENG/Publications/Electronic+Publications/Gaer+Fawr/

It “occupies a prominent hill 1.4 kilometres to the north of Guilsfield (Cegidfa) and 5.4 kilometres north of Welshpool in the old county of Montgomeryshire, now Powys. The topography of this area is dominated by the River Severn, 4.7 kilometres to the east (Fig. 2). The hills flanking its wide river plain rise gently to the west and more steeply to the east and are cut by the tributary rivers which feed the Severn. A series of prominent hills rises above the general topography, most distinctively the Breidden, at 403 metres above sea level . . .

The site lies in the northern half of a dense band of large?and medium?sized hillforts extending along the border between England and Wales: from the Wye Valley and tributaries of the Severn into the central Marches, and on by way of the Clwydian Range to the North Wales coast . . .

“‘The construction covered at least two main phases. The original hillfort, enclosing about 3 acres, was probably univallate with entrances at the NW and SW ends. The second phase consisted of enlarging the original fort by enclosing a further 3½ acres to the NW side at a lower level. The new outer defences were bivallate and included very complicated entrances on the NE and SW, probably on the sites of the original entrances’ (NMRW: OS 495 Card SJ 21 SW 1). . . .

“The most likely date for this phase of construction is the early Iron Age, between the sixth and fifth centuries BC, the period in which hillfort building took off in the Marches . . . The ‘developed’ form of Gaer Fawr is likely to belong to the middle Iron Age, 400-150  BC. . . .

“One of the most noticeable features of Gaer Fawr is its defences; the scale is huge in contrast to the size of the area enclosed. Useable space totals just over 2 hectares, whereas the hillfort as a whole encompasses just over 6 hectares. As defensive features these would certainly have been imposing and would have been visible for miles, with entrance arrangements clearly designed to control the movement of people, managing both how and who approached.”  In short, Caer Fawr provided the perfect place for Cade, Rhiann, andn their friends to defend Wales against a Saxon advance!

For more about the fort, see the report (again):  http://www.rcahmw.gov.uk/LO/ENG/Publications/Electronic+Publications/Gaer+Fawr/

For a cool video from the BBC:  http://www.bbc.co.uk/wales/history/sites/localhistory/hidden_histories/episode_2_hillfort.shtml

06/12/11

Arwystli

Today is a guest post from Brynne Haug, history major at Whitman College and co-conspirator in the study of all things Welsh. Thanks for stopping by!

 

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Arwystli seems an insignificant place—just a small piece of land in the middle of Wales, bordering on the northern kingdoms of Gwynedd and Powys. But Arwystli became instrumental for Wales’s survival in the War of 1282. In February of 1278, when Llywelyn ap Gruffudd, prince of Gwynedd and Wales, faced down King Edward I of England, on the surface he asked only for Arwystli.

 

Although Llywelyn had agreed to cede it to Gruffudd ap Gwenwynwyn, the lord of Powys, when Gruffudd swore fealty to him in 1263,[1] he later laid claim to it on the grounds that Gruffudd had given up his rights when he betrayed him to the English in 1274.[2] According to Llywelyn, it now legally should return to Gwynedd.

 

More than a little province was at stake. Edward and Llywelyn had clashed before, and their visions of Wales were at odds. Thus the issue became one of Welsh identity, and the validity of Wales’ judicial system was bound up in that; the legitimacy of one claim over another mattered little. Llywelyn ap Gruffudd maintained that because Arwystli lay in Wales, his dispute with Gruffudd ap Gwenwynwyn of Powys should be resolved in Wales, by Welsh courts. King Edward told Llywelyn that he, as king, would determine when and where the ruling would occur.

 

In a letter of July 1278 to Llywelyn ap Gruffudd, he wrote, “Llywelyn shall come before the king’s justices in those parts at days and places that they shall make known to him to do and receive what justice shall dictate.”[3] Edward believed that it was his job—moreover, his right—to determine legal and administrative matters large and small. Llywelyn, on the other hand, wanted autonomy.

 

The dispute at Arwystli, therefore, was not about whether Powys or Gwynedd had claim over a small cantref in central Wales. It became a matter of national identity: a question of whether Welsh law was subject to royal whim, and if Wales deserved to have its legal proceedings—however primitive the English found them—honored and upheld. Gwynedd was the stage on which this drama played out; Llywelyn and Edward were the chief actors. All of Wales, however, had stake in the conclusion. Though it was in its simplest form a matter of pride, a struggle of personal power between Edward and Llywelyn (Gruffudd ap Gwenwynwyn in defiance of Llywelyn took the English side, arguing for application of English law to the situation because Powys bordered on England), Welsh people did not see it that way.[4]

 

In the earlier conflicts with England, those who had fought had done so for the abstract ideal of “autonomy”; the issues brought up by the initially simple legal dispute of Arwystli inspired fervor against the English, who, if they refused to respect Welsh law and custom, refused to respect Wales.

 

When Llewelyn and his brother Dafydd went to war, they did so with the agreement that they would “stand together for their laws.”[5] While Llywelyn ap Gruffudd could not have predicted the long-lasting ramifications of his decision to dispute Gruffudd ap Gwenwynwyn’s claim to Arwystli, the choices he made there, in a sense, informed the cohesiveness and strength of identity of his people.

 

——————————————————————————–

 

[1] J. Beverley Smith, Llywelyn ap Gruffudd: Prince Of Wales (Cardiff: University Of Wales Press, 1998), 159.

 

[2] Ibid., 470.

 

[3] Calendar of Various Chancery Rolls A.D. 1277-1326, “Welsh Rolls” (London: His Majesty’s Stationary Office, 1912), 175.

 

[4] J. Beverley Smith, 475-75.

 

[5] R.R. Davies, Conquest, Coexistence, and Change: Wales 1063-1415 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987), 348.

05/11/10

Offa’s Dyke

In 780 AD, King Offa of Mercia was at the height of his authority.  Prior to his rule, in 750 AD, King Eliseg (immortalized by Eliseg’s Pillar near Llangollen) had swept the Saxons out of the plains of Powys.  Offa, in turn, attacked Powys in 778 and 784, and tradition states that he built the dyke, sometime (or throughout) his reign.  Prior to this, Aelthelbald, King of Mercia, had built ‘Wat’s Dyke’, which extends from the Severn Valley northwards towards the estuary of the Dee (A History of Wales, John Davies p. 62).

There is a quote from George Borrow, from Wild Wales, that “it was customary for the English to cut off the ears of every Welshman who was found to the east of the dyke, and for the Welsh to hang every Englishman whom they found to the west of it”.  This is potentially apocryphal, but indicates the significance of this man-made border between the two countries.

One of the biggest mysteries about Offa’s Dyke, in addition to when it was built, is why?  It was a huge undertaking to construct the earthwork, 150 miles in length, up to 65 feet wide and 8 feet high in places, along the entire length of the border between what is now England and Wales.  It clearly wasn’t made to keep the Welsh out of England, or to protect the Saxons in Mercia–since it was never defended.  Both English and Welsh kingdoms appeared to have a hand in determining where to build it, since it runs to the east of Wat’s Dyke when they are parallel, and in Gwent in particular, leaves lowlands to Wales to the east of natural features it might normally have followed.  It was dug, however, ”with the displaced soil piled into a bank on the Mercian (eastern) side. Where the earthwork encounters hills, it goes to the west of them, constantly providing an open view from Mercia into Wales.”  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Offa’s_Dyke  The prevailing opinion to date was that Offa built it as a sign of authority and power–as a means of saying, to a certain extent, ‘after this wall, here be dragons.’

I, personally, like the theory that Offa’s Dyke is a Roman construction:  

The Roman historian Eutropius in his book, Historiae Romanae Breviarium, written around 369, mentions the Wall of Severus, a structure built by Septimius Severus who was Roman Emperor between 193 and 211:

Novissimum bellum in Britannia habuit, utque receptas provincias omni securitate muniret, vallum per CXXXIII passuum milia a mari ad mare deduxit. Decessit Eboraci admodum senex, imperii anno sexto decimo, mense tertio. Historiae Romanae Breviarium, viii 19.1

He had his most recent war in Britain, and to fortify the conquered provinces with all security, he built a wall for 133 miles from sea to sea. He died at York, a reasonably old man, in the sixteenth year and third month of his reign.

However, this site, http://www.cpat.org.uk/news/oldnews/offaro.htm explains why this is unlikely. “The evident dislocation of Offa’s Dyke from the currently recognised pattern of early 3rd century military sites in the Welsh borders. This includes the legionary fortresses at Chester in the north and Caerleon in the south, other forts such as those at Leintwardine, Caersws and Forden Gaer, and a road system of which some elements are still in use today as parts of the modern, A5, A39 and A41 routes. The alignment of Offa’s Dyke shows no tangible geographical association or functional integration with this network. Indeed, it is in any case very hard to see what possible purpose such an undertaking could have served in Roman occupied western Britain, especially when the surviving Dyke is actually not a 130 mile complete frontier but is only spread discontinuously over that approximate length with extensive unexplained gaps (80 miles of earthwork are known).”

Furthermore, Ian Bapty, Offa’s Dyke Archaeological Management Officer with CPAT states:  “the attribution of the Dyke to Offa by Asser in his late 9th century ‘Life of Alfred’, echoed by the tradition of the ‘Offa’s Dyke’ name itself which can be documented back as far as the 13th century, has been accepted as correct by Anglo-Saxon scholars. ‘Offa’s Dyke is an extraordinary survival from our Anglo-Saxon past’ says Ian Bapty ‘and extraordinary exactly because it is Anglo-Saxon and as such sheds crucial light on a key period of our history when the modern political geography of Britain was beginning to appear. While we can perhaps associate descriptions of the ‘missing’ wall of Severus with somewhat confused and secondarily derived later accounts of Hadrian’s Wall – which was much rebuilt in the time of Severus – we surely cannot backdate Offa’s Dyke to Roman times, and to do so would be to miss the real significance and historical impact of this amazing earthwork’.

‘Ultimately I’d be ready to wager my granny on the fact that Offa’s Dyke is Anglo-Saxon and not Roman!’ says Ian ‘although I’d also have to be say that I’d be keeping granny firmly out of the stakes when it comes to betting on most other aspects of our understanding of the Dyke, including key issues such as exactly why it was built, how it was built, and what it’s original appearance and total extent was. I think it is the process of trying to answer these questions which may throw up some real and lasting revelations concerning not just Offa’s Dyke itself, but the very origins of Welsh and English culture and society’.”  http://www.cpat.org.uk/news/oldnews/offaro.htm