Episode 98 – Young Merlin – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 98 Show Notes

Source: Arthurian Legend

This week on MYTH, we’re riding back to ancient Britain for the origin story of one of the most famous wizards ever. You’ll see that you shouldn’t build on a dragon, that history used to be a lot more fun, and that mercenary armies usually aren’t your friend. Then, in Gods and Monsters, we’re traveling even farther back in time to follow one of the fleeing heroes of ancient Troy. This is the Myths Your Teacher Hated podcast, where I tell the stories of cultures from around the world in all of their original, bloody, uncensored glory. Modern tellings of these stories have become dry and dusty, but I’ll be trying to breathe new life into them. This is Episode 98, “Young Merlin”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
Before we get started, I just wanted to mention that one of my favorite times of the year is fast approaching. No, not Halloween (although that’s also a favorite) – DragonCon. I’ll be back again this year with my Mythology in Popular Culture Panel to discuss the 30th anniversary of Beauty and the Beast, the French tale from Episodes 39A-I that started it all, and some of the more interesting adaptations. I’ll also be on plenty of other panels of pop culture goodness to nerd out with all of you. Specifics will be posted on Facebook and the website once details are finalized. Hope to see you there!
This podcast is coming up on its sixth birthday and I realize that there’s a huge, influential cycle of stories that love to pop up in modern tales which have thus far been neglected. I’m talking of the Arthurian Legend of course. Part of what makes this such a difficult topic to cover is figuring out where to start. The general version that most people are familiar with comes from Thomas Malory’s famous Le Mort d’Arthur from the late 15th Century. In large part, this is because it was one of the first books ever printed in English and because it tried to create a single cohesive narrative to the Arthur stories.
What many people don’t know is that King Arthur and the many colorful characters who people his court were added over centuries by dozens of historians, poets, and antiquarians writing in multiple languages. The earliest possible mentions of a figure who might be King Arthur come from the 9th century Historia Brittonum (History of the Britons) and the 10th century Annales Cambriae (Welsh Annals). They both describe a Romano-British leader who fought against the invading Anglo-Saxons some time in the late 5th and early 6th century and includes the famous Battle of Badon where Arthur supposedly killed 960 men single-handedly. If you’ve seen the absolutely fantastic Green Knight movie with Dev Patel, you heard this referenced in the film. Thus, while extremely unlikely, it is possible that some historical king known as Arthur fought in the Battle of Badon sometime between 516 and 518 and died with Medraut (better known as Mordred) at the Battle of Camlann between 537 and 539. More likely, he’s a folk hero or a Celtic deity who became associated with real deeds of one or more ancient warriors.
Different writers at different times took all kinds of liberties with the canon and characters, and many of the best known and most beloved knights didn’t actually show up until fairly late in the story cycle. The subject of this week’s episode however has been around since the first major work of Arthurian legend: the Historia Regum Britanniae or the History of the Kings of Britain by Geoffery of Monmouth from the 12th century. The mysterious court wizard Merlin lays a heavy hand across modern depictions of wizards of all kinds from Gandalf the Gray to Doctor Strange. His story was later fleshed out in an Old French poem aptly named Merlin, written in the 13th century by Robert de Boron. This is when the famous incident of the Sword in the Stone first appears, orchestrated by our brooding magician. For the sake of clarity, we’ll be using Geoffrey of Monmouth’s version of Merlin’s early years.
Geoffrey’s depiction of the trickster Merlin was based on a North Brythonic poet and seer named Myrddin Wyllt or Myrddin the Wild and Emrys, a Welsh character who was himself heavily based on the 5th century Romano-British war leader (and real person) Ambrosius Aurelianus. Almost all later versions of Merlin take this original depiction as their inspiration, including de Boron, so it’s fitting that this be the Merlin we first meet. Of course, this is a very long and twisty tale that begins long, long before Arthur or Merlin, so we first need to back up just a bit and meet Vortigern.
Our tale begins with the death of Constans II, eldest son of Constantine III (not related to but definitely named after Constantine the Great), who had been named co-emperor of the Western Roman Empire by his father (the fabulous History of Rome podcast goes into depth about these very real incidents if you’re curious). In Geoffrey’s version, Constans is a monk at the time of his father’s death and is persuaded to leave his monastery and take up the crown by Vortigern, king of the Gewisseans, who hungers for the crown of Britain himself. Constans agrees but is a weak and unpopular king, ruled from behind the scenes by the wicked councilor Vortigern.
The evil advisor whispered in the king’s ear that the Picts (a fierce tribe native to what is now Scotland) were planning to bring an allied army of Dacians and Norwegians and advised him to keep a company of his own Picts in court to act as spies. As you can probably guess, Vortigern didn’t suggest this out of the goodness of his heart but because he knew the Picts didn’t give two shits about Constans and could easily be convinced to assassinate him. Vortigern showered them with gifts and praise, got them very drunk, and then complained that he was going to have to leave the court to go somewhere cheaper since the lands granted him by the king just weren’t enough to support all of his dear, loyal friends the Picts. They didn’t much care for this, having grown accustomed to a life of ease in the court, and so they broke into the king’s bedchamber, beheaded him, and then carried their grisly trophy to their best bud Vortigern. They expected him to thank them, but I haven’t been calling him wicked and evil this whole time for shits and giggles.
Vortigern was a vicious player of the great game of thrones and he didn’t hesitate. Acting shocked and mournful at this horrifying betrayal of his beloved king, he had all of the assassins arrested, paraded before the citizens of London, and then themselves beheaded for their crime. There were plenty of people who were mighty suspicious at this turn of events, but Vortigern had played his hand well, so no solid evidence could be brought against him and he was able to crown himself king.
Constans had two sons named Aurelius Ambrosius (who is a different person than the previously mentioned Ambrosius Aurelianus) and Uther Pendragon. Fearing (probably correctly) that Vortigern would have the boys assassinated to secure his hold on the throne, their protectors smuggled the brothers out into Lesser Britain to the court of King Budes, who raised them with a proper royal education. Eventually, Vortigern’s treason was discovered among the Picts and they were justifiably enraged at the treatment of their brethren by this usurper king. They raised an army and went into revolt, forcing Vortigern to field his own army to try and put down the insurrection. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he knew good and well that the two sons of Constans, the rightful heirs, were still very much alive and could return at any time. The constant rumors of their building a great fleet with the help of some foreign king to retake their rightful place certainly didn’t help his peace of mind.
One day, three long galleys full of armed foreigners landed at Kent. The brothers Horsa and Hengist were in command of this expedition, which Vortigern ordered to be met peacefully and brought to meet him. It turned out that these two were princes from Saxony who had been kicked out to seek their fortunes elsewhere. According to them, when there were too many nobles, it was customary for all the princes to come together and vote on who was the strongest amongst them to go adventuring. They were pagan worshippers of Freya and Odin, who they considered to be the same god as the Roman Mercury. Today, we consider Odin to be more analogous to Jupiter (aka Zeus), but the ancient Romans had decided that he was definitely Mercury and our buddy Geoffry had followed suit.
Vortigern smelled opportunity and he offered these two princes and their men a place in his kingdom as well as lands for their own if they would agree to fight the rioting Picts for him. Horsa and Hengist readily agreed to this proposal and promptly rode out to battle alongside the Britons. The Saxons turned out to be fierce fighters and managed to drive the Picts back into their lands without the Britons having to do much more than watch. Grateful for this victory, Vortigern handed over all of the land that was promised and then some since they had done so well. By now, Hengist had talked to the locals and learned which way the winds were blowing. He was a clever prince and he went to Vortigern and asked for permission to bring over more of his men to stand ready against the rumored return of Aurelius Ambrosius. Those were the magic words and so the king was all too happy to agree to bring over more Saxon warriors. Hengist then asked for a town and to be officially named a prince here to match the titles he’d been born to, but Vortigern wasn’t willing to make a foreigner a member of the nobility quite so easily. Giving in quckly, Hengist instead asked for the right to build a fortress to house all of the new Saxons he was going to bring over. This was permitted and thus was built Kaercorrei, known in the Saxon tongue as Thancastre.
18 more ships of Saxons soon arrived in Britain full of warriors as well as Hengist’s daughter Rowen. Vortigern was invited to see the new castle and the new army at a huge royal banquet in his honor. Kings love being flattered, so of course he agreed. That night, a stunning beauty brought him a golden cup of wine and offered to drink to his health. Vortigern was smitten by this woman (who was none other than Rowen of course) in spite of her being a pagan and he a Christian and he soon asked to marry her. Hengist pretended to think about it and consult with his brother and councilors, all of whom said to do it. They were swiftly married and Hengist was made lord of Kent. This would be shocking news to Gorangon, who was currently the lord of Kent and had no idea he was being fired. The king married his pagan bride, which soon earned him even more hatred from his own local nobles and, worse, his own grown sons Vortimer, Catigern, and Pascentius.
By right of being the king’s father-in-law, Hengist insisted on becoming one of the king’s councilors. His first advice was to bring over Hengist’s son Octa and his brother Ebissa and give them control of lands in the north of Britain to stand as a bulwark against further violence from the barbarian Picts. Vortigern figured that if some Saxons were good, more was better and agreed to these terms. Octa, Ebissa, and Cherdich for good measure sailed over immediately with 300 ships full of soldiers, which they promptly used to beat the ever-loving shit out of the Picts and all of the king’s other enemies. Vortigern was thrilled by these developments and so had no complaints as Hengist continued bringing more and more ships of Saxon soldiers over. The rest of the British nobility was far less sanguine about this affair. They suspected that Hengist was building himself a private army larger than anything they could raise against him. Thus, they begged Vortigern to banish these foreign barbarians from their shores before it was too late. Besides, you couldn’t have filthy pagans marrying good Christians because how would you know who was righteous and who was evil? Seriously, that was one of their arguments.
Vortigern refused to hear it. These Saxons had done everything he ever asked of them and had beaten his enemies for him, which the local lords had proved utterly unable to do. Realizing that Vortigern was basically the king of the Saxons now instead of the British, they abandoned him and raised his son Vortimer as their new king. They rallied their armies under the new king Vortimer and fought against Vortigern’s Saxon army for the fate of the island. Hengist’s brother Horsa was killed in the fighting as was Vortigern’s son Catigern. After a long siege, Vortigern was forced to wave the white flag. He went to meet his son to discuss terms; while this conference was happening, his Saxon army got on their ships and sailed back to Europe, leaving their wives and children behind.
Vortimer promptly restored the lands and titles to his local subjects, which pissed off his stepmother Rowen. She bribed one of Vortimer’s close associates to poison him, which killed him very quickly and very painfully. He had just enough time to call his vassals together and urge them to defend his beloved country from all invaders and to bury him at the church of St. Germinus, which he had just rebuilt so that his spirit could ward their shores from any Saxons. No sooner was he dead than his subjects ignored his last request and buried him in London.
With Vortimer dead, the peace talks quickly devolved, ending with Vortigern returning to the throne he had literally just been driven from. At his wife’s request, he sent messengers to her father Hengist, inviting him to return to Britain. Just, you know, be discreet and only bring a small personal retinue, mmkay? Hengist, hearing that the man who had just beaten his army was dead said fuck that shit and raised an army of 300,000 men and built a fleet to carry them over the sea. You can’t keep a beat stick that large a secret for long, and when news reached Britain even Vortigern was forced to realize that he had made a terrible, terrible mistake. For once, he and his nobles were in agreement and they raced to raise their own army to fight back.
Unfortunately, Hengist was kept informed of literally everything that was happening by his daughter Rowen and so was able to plan a counter-strategy. After much deliberation and several discarded attack plans, the fleet settled on subterfuge – they would pretend this was all just a big misunderstanding and sue for peace. An ambassador was sent to explain to Vortigern that this huge army wasn’t to attack him, oh heavens no. You see, Hengist had just thought that Vortimer was still alive and in charge and the Saxon was sailing back to heroically protect his good pal Vortigern. This was all easy to fix. The Saxons would land and place themselves in the king’s service. He could keep as many as he wanted and just send the rest back home. Easy peasy. Vortigern just needed to set the time and place for the meeting and they could sort this whole ugly business out completely peacefully. Wouldn’t that be nice?
Vortigern was apparently pretty gullible for a backstabbing murderer and he thought that the ambassador’s proposal sounded just splendid. What could possibly go wrong? Besides, he knew his nobles still pretty much hated his guts and he would sleep better at night with Hengist and his Saxon mercenaries guarding him. As you have certainly already guessed, Hengist was a treacherous asshole and this is all a ploy. More Saxons than were strictly necessary were brought ashore to meet with the king and all of his assembled nobles. The two groups chatted amicably about peace terms, mingling and mixing, until Hengist smiled widely and shouted “Nemet oure Saxas” which means ‘get your knives’! At this signal, each of the Saxons drew the long dagger he had hidden under his clothes and stabbed the British noble closest to him. By the time the bloody business was over (which didn’t take very long at all as the nobles had been almost as gullible as their king and come to the meeting unarmed per protocol), 460 British nobles lay dead in the dust and Vortigern was Hengist’s prisoner.
The nobles didn’t go down without a fight though. Many seized rocks or branches to use as blunt weapons and fought back, killing many of their attackers. One man in particular, Eldol the consul of Gloucester (basically equivalent to a count at the time), made an extremely valiant stand. He snatched up a wooden stake that was near at hand and with it beat 70 Saxons to death and broke the bones of many more. As more of his fellows died, the odds grew worse and worse and he eventually realized that it was time to get the fuck out of Dodge. Wielding his deadly cudgel, he made his escape and retreated to the relative safety of his own city.
Vortigern, on the other hand, was a miserable fucking coward. He barely bothered to try and fight back and, after being captured, agreed to give Hengist anything and everything he asked for in exchange for the captured king’s life. He swore binding oaths and signed documents granting them all of the great cities and fortified places. With those in hand, they force-marched the captured king to London and sacked it, followed by York, Lincoln, and Winchester. Once the Saxons had basically everything, Vortigern was allowed to wander freely as the king of jack shit. Not knowing what else to do, he went to his home city of Cambira and hid.
With no other brilliant ideas, Vortigern decided to try magic. Literally. He called together the local magicians and asked them to tell him what to do. He was in deep shit and willing to listen to anyone. They looked around and suggested he build himself a tall fortified tower in the city. Since, you know, he’d given literally every existing fortress to the Saxons and it might be good to have somewhere defensible. I don’t think you needed a magician to tell you that, but it’s still not bad advice.
Vortigern realized that this was indeed sensible and so began to scout a location, settling at last on Mount Erir. Builders were assembled and started work on the tower’s foundation. They made good progress for the first day and headed home. When they came back the next, the earth had swallowed all of their work, leaving no trace. Confused and worried, they tried again with the same result. No matter how much they got accomplished on building the tower’s foundation one day, it was completely gone the next. This was clearly not a natural occurrence, so Vortigern again sought out the advice of the magicians.
They talked amongst themselves and this time they made with the hocus pocus. They told the king that he needed to find a boy who had never had a father, kill him, and mix his blood in with the cement for the tower, which just breaks all kind of OSHA regulations. Vortigern just loved drinking fucked up decision juice and so promptly sent out messengers to find such a boy. Hey, he already had a monk-turned-king murdered, it’s not like he’s going to balk at a child.
They spread out across the county and one group came to a city known as Kaermerdin. It was a long, hot, exhausting journey and the men decided to take a quick rest by the city gates before heading in to start asking questions. Not having cell phones to pass the time, they watched two boys playing a game nearby. One of the boys, named Dabutius, got into an argument with the other about some esoteric rule infraction. “Are you seriously arguing with me, you little shit? I’m from a long line of royalty on my mom and my dad’s sides of the family. Nobody knows what bullshit lineage you have Merlin because you never had a dad you loser!”
Understandably, the messengers’ ears perked up at this bit of insulting gossip. They asked a passerby what was up with that strange Merlin kid. They were told that his mother, who lived with the nuns at St. Peter’s, was the daughter of a king of Demetae (in modern Wales) but no one knew who his father was. Heartened by this tentative confirmation, the messengers headed straight to the governor’s house. The governor shrugged and figured if the king wanted a random woman and her son by a deadbeat dad, he could have them. The two were promptly shuffled off to see Vortigern.
Having heard from his men that she was of royal birth, the king was very charming and respectful to her. After all required pleasantries, he asked about the father of her son. She shrugged. “As impossible as it sounds my lord, I don’t think he has a father. The closest thing I can think of was this beautiful young man who I don’t think was human. He showed up the first time when I was with some friends and was very charming. He came back many times when I was alone, holding me and kissing me before vanishing into thin air. Sometimes, after he disappeared, he would talk to me even though I couldn’t see anyone in the room with me. He was very sweet and he eventually talked me into sleeping with him while he was in the shape of that sexy young man, and then I got pregnant with Merlin. He’s the only one who could possibly be his dad.”
After hearing this strange tale, Vortigern asked the advice of a magician known as Maugantius. This wise man said that the ancient writer Apuleius had written of this creature in his book the Demon of Socrates. It was an incubus, a demon who was part human, part angel, and all sex drive. They were well known to take on the form of particularly pretty young men and sleep with women, so it was entirely possible that the young Merlin indeed had no mortal father. For the record, the more historical Ambrosius from Nennius’ tale that Merlin is inspired by revealed that his father was actually a Roman consul – an important political figure in the Roman Empire.
Merlin was in the room while all of this was being discussed and, being an exceptionally clever lad (as one might expect from a future wizard) he was very curious about why the king had called them here. Vortigern figured that a boy and a nun couldn’t do much about the situation with so many armed guards around and told him the truth. Merlin considered for a moment. “My king, if you will call your magicians here to see you, I can prove that they’re lying.” Of all the responses to being told that he was going to be executed to build a tower, Vortigern had certainly not expected that one. Figuring he had nothing to lose, the king did as the young boy asked.
The magicians came as bid and stood before the serious-looking boy. He paced before them with all the dignity and gravitas of a tenured professor as he lectured them. “I understand that you have advised the king to mix my blood into the cement for his tower to make it stand, which is just terrible advice. You think that will make it stand, but you don’t know shit. Tell me, do you know what’s under the foundation?” He paused, but no one answered. “Come now, surely you thought about this. Did it never occur to you to wonder what was beneath the earth that might be responsible for all of this?” Again, no one answered. In fact, they hadn’t considered that and they were starting to be more than a little intimidated by this scary little boy.
Letting the silence linger long enough to make his point stick, Merlin turned to the king. “Just so. My lord, I ask you to have your workmen dig down below where they are trying to build. You will find there an underground pond that the foundation keeps sinking into.” The king figured this kid might be onto something if the sheepish silence of his magicians was any indicator and ordered it done. Sure enough, they did indeed find a subterranean pond. The boy smiled. “Like I said. And do you lying liars know what lies beneath the pond? I mean, I know you don’t since you didn’t even know the pond was here and this is purely a rhetorical question to humiliate you further, but by all means prove me wrong and tell us.” Again, there was only silence.
“My lord, order the pond drained. At the bottom, you will find two hollow stones. In each of these rocks, you will find a sleeping dragon.” This was a much more fantastical claim than the pond, but he’d been completely right so far so the king ordered it done. To everyone’s amazement, there were indeed two hollow stones holding a pair of sleeping dragons, one white and one red, under the pond which, holy shit, if you had given me a hundred guesses at what was under the pond ‘sleeping dragons’ wouldn’t have come up. Everyone was now utterly convinced that this kid was divinely inspired and one magical little dude.
Of course, the dragons were just a little bit perturbed by having their waterbed drained about them and they roared their anger. Fortunately for all those assembled, they seemed to want to fight each other more than any of the gathered humans. Unfortunately for those same people, these were both the fire-breathing variety of dragon and it was very, very scary to be up close and personal for this particular grudge match. Their battle was furious and terrible, but the white dragon soon gained the upper hand, forcing red to fly to the other side of the pond. Enraged, red wheeled back on his foe and attacked even more furiously than before, driving white into retreat.
The king, shocked by this awesome and awful display, asked Merlin just what the hell this all meant. Merlin responded with a very, very long prophecy that we’re not going to go into too much depth on. The short version is that the white dragon represents the Saxons and the red the Britons and their battle is a portent of the struggle to come between these two peoples. Merlin also predicts a great many strange and oddly specific things that are all just vague enough and cloaked in enough symbolic imagery to feel super magic-y. It starts with the early days of King Arthur and his kingdom but then goes on at great length to predict pretty much the entirety of English history up well beyond the time that Geoffry was writing. Even though Merlin obviously didn’t make these prophecies, what with being fictional, people still put a lot of stock in them. Remember that Historia Regum Britanniae was intended to be a serious history, and people treated it as such. Even as late as the reign of King James VI in 1567, the words of Merlin were used to claim that his inheriting the throne from Queen Elizabeth I had been foretold.
Vortigern didn’t understand any of it beyond the part about the dragons that Merlin explicitly explained. Merlin scolds Vortigern for having betrayed his people and invited the Saxon scourge to their lands and warns him to flee before the sons of Constans if he can. Furthermore, he warns the king that two deaths loomed in his future and both would be difficult to avoid. On the one hand, the Saxons were definitely on their way to lay waste to Britain and kill its king by burning his tower with him in it. On the other, Aurelius Ambrosius and Uther Pendragon were also going to arrive back on the island the very next day with vengeance on their minds. Vortigern’s only real hope was to flee before the storm and let fate take its course. Aurelius would go to war against the Saxons and emerge victorious over the corpse of Hengist and be crowned king. Alas for him, after restoring peace to the country he would be murdered by poison. His brother Uther Pendragon would then succeed him on the throne only to be poisoned in turn and Vortigern’s line would have another bite at the apple.
The very next day, as promised, Aurelius’ ship arrived on the British shore with 10,000 men. Word of his coming had already spread ahead of him thanks to Merlin’s prophecy and the scattered Britons had gathered to rally to his banners. They crowned Aurelius king as quickly as they could and, once he was in charge, they promptly urged him to go to war against the Saxons. Aurelius listened to their advice, nodded sagely, and then ignored the shit out of them. He had sailed here to murder the man who had murdered his father, and he was going to do exactly that before doing anything else. Thus, he promptly marched his army to the town of Genroreu in Cambria where Vortigern had tried to hole up.
After waxing philosophical to Eldol, duke of Gloucester about how the tall walls of the city weren’t going to keep him from sheathing his sword in Vortigern’s filthy bowels and then listing all of his many crimes, he set to besieging the city. Unfortunately, despite all his proud boasting, Ambrosius’ army couldn’ seem to break down the walls and storm the tower. He wasn’t about to give up so he resorted to an uglier weapon – fire. Exactly as Merlin had warned, Vortigern’s tower didn’t save his ass and he was burned alive inside. Good riddance to bad rubbish.
It was an ugly end and news of it soon reached the camp of Hengist and the Saxons. He didn’t care for it one bit. Vortigern had been a coward but Aurelius was something altogether different. He was an inspiring leader, a fearless fighter, and a superb horseman. Invading against a British army lead by him would be far, far more difficult than they had anticipated. Unnerved by this change, the Saxon army retreated north towards Scotland, which at the time was considered a wild, untamed place wholly peopled by bloodthirsty barbarians like the Picts, Scots, and Dacians as well as Norwegian pirates. They figured that, worst come to worst, they could flee there and lose the Britons.
Aurelius marched his army through the country devastated by the Saxon invaders, mourning its destruction, and soon neared their foes. The two armies maneuvered around each other with the Saxons failing to draw Aurelius into a trap. The Saxons were broken in the battle that followed and fled to a nearby town to regroup. Hengist knew that the town would not be able to hold out against the British army and so rallied his troops outside the walls to make a last stand. With their backs up against the wall (literally), the Saxons fought like wounded lions and nearly won the day. If Aurelius hadn’t thought ahead and placed 3,000 cavalry on his flank to break their momentum, the Britons would have been slaughtered to a man. As it was, the day was incredibly bloody on both sides with the groans of the wounded and dying filling the air.
The battle teetered on a knife’s edge until the duke of Cornwall led a furious charge deep into the Saxons as predicted by Merlin. Seeing his chance, Eldol booked it up to Hengist, grabbed him by his fucking helmet, and dragged him into the main British force. With their leader captured, the Saxon army lost the will to fight and fled the field. Some scattered into friendly cities and others vanished into the woods, but most rallied under Hengist’s son Octa and fled to York or under his cousin Eosa at Alclud. Aurelius was victorious. Hengist was sentenced to death by beheading for his many crimes. In a show of valor, Aurelius ordered that his slain foe be buried with honor according to his pagan traditions.
Aurelius headed to York to besiege Octa’s forces, who surrendered very, very quickly. They threw themselves on the king’s mercy and to their surprise, the king was willing to grant it. They were offered clemency in exchange for swearing allegiance to the new king and moving to the wild borderlands with Scotland to be a bulwark against the northern barbarians. Octa was too happy to agree and so they became the vassals of the new king. Eosa heard the terms that the other Saxons had been granted and surrendered as well, agreeing to the same conditions. Thus, the war was over.
King Aurelius promptly set to work rebuilding his country and the many cities that had been sacked by the Saxons. Peace soon reigned across the land. With rebuilding underway, the king thought it fitting to erect a monument to the lives of the many British patriots who had given their lives in the defense of their kingdom. He called together the best carpenters and masons around and ordered them to get to work, but they refused saying their skills were not up to such an important task. In response, Merlin’s name was put forward by an archbishop as a kid with vision. Maybe he’d be up to it. Understandably curious about a child described as ‘Vortigern’s prophet’, Aurelius asked a lot of questions before agreeing.
Merlin was brought before the king and commanded to give a prophecy. Merlin snorted. “That’s not how it works, your highness. Mysteries of this kind are only revealed when the time is right, not when you want it. I could make up some bullshit to amuse you, but it would all be lies. Sorry not sorry. Was there something else?” The king took this rejection pretty well for royalty and switched to talking about the monument he wanted to build. Merlin considered for a moment. “If you want to honor their sacrifice, send for the Giant’s Dance monument in Killaraus, a mountain in Ireland. It’s a truly impressive circle of cyclopean stones so large that no one in the modern era could possibly raise it. If you put them here, they will stand forever in tribute.”
King Aurelius laughed out loud. “Seriously? How the hell am I supposed to move stones from Ireland that you yourself just said were too damned big for anyone today to move? I mean, it’s not like we don’t have big rocks right here in Britain, right?” Merlin shook his head. “Please don’t laugh. I’m serious. These are mystical stones and have medical benefits as well. They were brought here from distant Africa by ancient giants to make a magical bath to cure any disease or wound. They would wash the stones and then wash their sick in the water, healing absolutely anyone of absolutely anything.” This convinced the Britons that they definitely needed those damned stones.
The king’s brother, Uther Pendragon, was sent to do the job with 15,000 men chosen by Merlin himself. They gathered a fleet of ships and sailed on a fair wind to Ireland. At this point in time, the king in Ireland was a young man named Gillomanius. He was less than thrilled about an army of Britons landing on his island and promptly raised his own army to fight them off because fuck those colonizers. When he heard that this army had come to steal their ancient monument for themselves, he smiled derisively. “Typical, really. What, they don’t have their own rocks so they have to invade and come steal ours? That’s some British bullshit if I ever heard it. No wonder the Saxons fucked them up so bad. They’re not getting their grubby mitts on our magic stones without a fight!” Unfortunately, the British army had shaped up considerably under the new management and Uther Pendragon was a hell of a general. The Irish army was soon routed and forced to flee.
The victorious army marched to the Giant’s Dance, which was every bit as enormous and monumental as Merlin had said it would be. Merlin smiled secretively and told the 15,000 men to go ahead and do whatever they thought they needed to take down the stones. They tried ropes and ladders and contraptions, but the stones didn’t even budge. Merlin laughed and set to work on his own shit. As I mentioned before, these stories are ostensibly a history and so Merlin can’t exactly use out and out magic. It wouldn’t be believable (unlike fucking dragons and giants, apparently). Instead, he builds some mysterious, secret devices that were totally able to move the stones, load them on the ships, and bring them home. They were then set up by Merlin in the place where they currently stand because this is none other than the famous Stonehenge monument. Yup, according to legend, that’s Merlin’s work.
And that seems like a good place to leave jolly old England for now. The Saxons have been driven out, the rightful king crowned to bring peace to the land, and one of the most famous ancient structures erected, which means it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about the personalities and history of one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story. This week’s legendary hero is Brutus of Britain.
Not to be confused with the more famous Brutus who arranged the assassination of Julius Caeser, this Brutus was a descendant of the Trojan hero Aeneas. You know, the one that famous piece of fan fiction the Aeneid is named after. After the fall of Troy (see Episode 26O), Aeneas and a group of Trojans escaped the city and sailed for Italy to escape the wrath of the Greeks. After getting into another war real quick, they conquered the kingdom of Italy and settled down. Aeneas’ son Ascanius took over after his father and in turn had his own son named Sylvius, who in turn got married and conceived a child. Ascanius asked his magicians to do an early sex-reveal party and it ended in disaster to rival any modern firework snafus. The magicians announced that this child would be a boy, would kill his mother and his father, would get his ass banished, and then would achieve great glory. That wasn’t the best news, but at least it wasn’t all bad.
The boy was born in due time and, sure enough, his mother died in childbirth fulfilling one part of the prophecy. He was named Brutus and raised by a nurse. For the next 15 years, it seemed like the magicians had only been partly right, which was a relief. One day, Brutus and his father were out hunting together. The servants were driving the deer between the two hunters and Brutus took a hasty shot which flew wide and hit his dad square in the chest. That’s why you always pay attention to where you’re aiming, Brutus. It was clearly an accident but Brutus wouldn’t have been the first ambitious son to ‘accidentally’ kill his father to take over, so everyone assumed it was murder. Patricide was a terrible crime and so Brutus was exiled from Italy – exactly as had been predicted.
Without any better plan, Brutus wandered to Greece (since Troy was a smoking ruin) and found the descendants of King Priam enslaved by Pandrasus, king of the Greeks. As we have seen, the Greeks didn’t exactly have just one king, but it simplified the story considerably so whatever. Brutus learned that they were his kinsmen and took up residence among them and began to distinguish himself as a brave and competent warrior. His fame began to spread and Trojan refugees from all over the country began to flock to his banner. It felt good to be working for a fellow Trojan instead of one of those nasty Greek fellows who had burned their city. This renewed Trojan army began to encourage their commander to rise up and overthrown the Greeks, which they assured him they could easily do now that they were 7,000 strong.
They found their opportunity when a man named Assaracus sought their help. His mother had been a Trojan concubine and so his brother (who was full Greek) had convinced the Greek king to give him the three castle’s that had been left to Assaracus by their father. Brutus composed a fairly polite letter to the king asking that the Trojans be given permission to live in the woods where they had fled to avoid being slaves or else to let them leave the country in peace. Pandrasus was pretty miffed about some foreign Trojan asshole demanding the release of a whole mess of slaves and so instead of doing either thing raised his own army to hunt them down.
Brutus had been expecting something sneaky like this (they were the people of the great liar Odysseus after all) and so he was waiting in ambush for them. After a pretty one-sided fight, the Trojans routed the Greeks, took the king’s brother captive, and set up shop in the town they had taken before meeting the rest of the Trojans in the aforementioned woods. The Greek army, reformed under Pandrasus, besieged the fortified city, which sent a message to Brutus asking for help. The Trojan general realized he didn’t have enough men to win a stand-up fight – they’d only won before because of the ambush. Instead, he brought out his two captives and threatened to kill one unless the other helped him lure the Greeks into a trap that night.
The prisoners, desperate to save their own lives, agreed to help. The Greek army never suspected the king’s brother of tricking them and waltzed right into their own bloody slaughter. Having killed a huge portion of the Greeks already, Brutus was able to break the siege and free the city. For good measure, the Greek king Pandrasus was taken captive in the fighting. After much debate, they decided to force the king to marry his eldest daughter Ignoge to Brutus to secure a lasting peace. Once they had secured this (and her large dowry), the Trojans would leave the Greek lands for some other country. Pandrasus would agree to these terms, or he would be horribly tortured to death – the choice was his. You can probably guess what he decided. 324 ships were gathered and launched out to the horizon. Ignoge fainted several times at the absolute horror of being forcibly married to the defeated enemy of legend and then sailing away from literally everyone she ever knew. Brutus tried to comfort her, but it was no use. She cried until she had no tears left and then shook in silent grief until she fell asleep. Poor thing.
The Trojans sailed for two days and nights until they arrived on the island of Leogecia, which was uninhabited thanks to the bloody rampage of pirates. Brutus knew none of this and thought it would make a fine place to land. They came ashore and built shrines to Jupiter, Mercury, and Diana (or Zeus, Hermes, and Artemis). That night, Brutus was visited by Diana in his dreams who foretold his future. She told him that he and his Trojans would come to an island that had once been home to giants and there found an empire. The Trojans returned to their ships and sailed on in search of their new home and Brutus’ destiny.
They came first to the coast of Africa and then sailed to a bunch of places that exist as names in this record only, so no one really knows whether any of them were real or made up by ol’ Geoffrey. History was a lot easier to do when you could just make up whatever you didn’t know, wasn’t it? Anyway, they came eventually to the Pillars of Hercules where the Sirens dwell – remember them from back in 72I? The ship was very nearly destroyed but Brutus knew his Greek epics (which were recent history to him) and was able to steer his companions out of disaster. They continued on until they found several nations that had been founded by Antenor (another character from the Aeneid) and other fleeing Trojans in the recent past. Their leader was a man named Corineus who agreed to join Brutus. His people were thereafter known as the Cornish (aka people from the area of Cornwall, a distinct ethnic group within Britain).
They sailed on to Aquitaine, got into a scuffle with the local king over hunting rights, and started yet another little war. Brutus won the day and ravaged the country with fire and sword, stealing much of their riches before moving on. He did stop his swath of destruction long enough to found the modern city of Tours, France, setting up a fortified camp there to avoid the wrath of the kings and princes of Gaul who were allied to Goffarius of Aquitaine, whom they had spanked. For his part, Goffarius was especially enraged by the insult of laying waste to his kingdom and then setting up their own town inside his country as though they owned it. Another battle ensued, which the Gauls felt pretty good about going into since they had three times as many men as the Trojans, which is usually a pretty good indicator of victory on the battlefield.
The Trojans fought well but were pushed back into their fortified camp and besieged. Brutus and Corineus schemed another ambush with the Cornish warriors hiding in a nearby wood. When the Trojans sallied forth at dawn for an attack, the Cornish hit them from behind in a pincer movement. It was a bloody battle but since the Trojans had heroes like Turonus, Brutus’ nephew, who slew 600 Gauls before dying himself, 3 to 1 odds didn’t mean a whole lot. The city of Tours that I mentioned was named for this fallen hero, who was buried there.
Brutus was pretty happy with another total victory, but he was also a little worried about how many soldiers were dying in this endless string of wars. He didn’t exactly have an endless supply of reinforcements and this could become a big problem very soon. He decided to abandon his war with Goffarius (and Gaul in general) and sail for the island mentioned by the goddess in his vision. They sailed on until they came to an island off the coast named Albion, which was inhabited only by some giants.
It seemed like a pretty sweet place, so Brutus and his men drove the giants up into the mountain caves and took the land for themselves, which is becoming a bit of a habit for these Trojan assholes. Brutus decided that this was the place he had been promised and so completely disregarding that it already had a name, he called the island Britain after himself. So you see, the British have a long, mythological history of being dicks, stealing shit, and starting wars (especially with France). They split the land between the Trojans and the Cornish, and the latter place was of course soon named after them as well. The giants eventually tried to retake their land but were all killed except for their leader Goemagot, who was taken alive so that Corineus could wrestle him. Seriously.
The much, much smaller human broke three ribs in the fight but that just gave him Hulk strength. He picked the giant up over his head, carried him to a cliff, and threw him over the edge of what is still known as Lam Goemagot or The Giant’s Leap to this day. With the original inhabitants all dead now, there was no one to stop Brutus from building his city of New Troy, which was corrupted into the name Trinovantum over many years. This city on the banks of the River Thames was later renamed after Lud, the brother of Cassibellaun who fought against the famous Julius Caesar, becoming Kaer-Lud. This name too got corrupted into something that is probably more familiar – London. The tale ends with Geoffry dating this whole affair to the time when the Ark of the Covenant (yes, the one from the Indiana Jones film) was taken by the Philistines, which makes this very, very old. Thus do the British also lay claim to the ancient lineage of Troy just as the Roman Empire had done.
That’s it for this episode of Myths Your Teacher Hated. Keep up with new episodes on our Facebook page, on iTunes, on Stitcher, on TuneIn, on Vurbl, and on Spotify, or you can follow us on Twitter as @HardcoreMyth and on Instagram as Myths Your Teacher Hated Pod. You can also find news and episodes on our website at myths your teacher hated dot com. If you have any questions, any gods or monsters you’d want to learn about, or any ideas for future stories that you’d like to hear, feel free to drop me a line. I’m trying to pull as much material from as many different cultures as possible, but there are all sorts of stories I’ve never heard, so suggestions are appreciated. The theme music is by Tiny Cheese Puff.
Next time, it’s off to a place that has been many places but is now the Czech Republic for some Slavic fairy tale fun. You’ll discover that being kind is a weakness, that you can be beaten for doing a good job, and that frogs are pushy. Then, in Gods and Monsters, a wild fox is going to meet a domesticated cat with maybe my favorite name from any story ever – Mister Shaggy Matthews. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.