(In the first book of his Warlord trilogy Bernard Cornwell posits a fictitious battle at Lugg Vale at which the warlord Arthur ap Uther, leader of the Dumnonians, defeats an alliance of other British tribes in order to unite the Britons against the invading Saxons. His success results, ultimately, in the defeat of the Saxons at Badon Hill, setting back their further invasion of Britain by some 50 years).

 

As Briton fights Briton the Saxon awaits

And readies himself at Lloegyr’s gates,

Gorfyddyd of Powys consults with the Fates,

Siluria’s Gundleus too.

 

Outnumbered we hurried round hill and through dale

And came to this place where we’d die called Lugg Vale;

Our certainty spread like a plague that we’d fail

As fear and despondency grew.

 

We prayed to the Old Gods of Ankou and Bel

Some spat and touched iron, ill-luck to dispel;

The Christians prayed for deliverance from Hell;

Their priests rode behind in a waggon.

 

We all felt our battle-plan ill-thought and flawed

We mustered but 500 spearmen and sword

And none knew the self-doubt that wracked at our Lord,

Arthur, ap Uther Pendragon.

 

Dumnonia’s poets would later describe

How Gorfyddyd payed to the Saxons a bribe,

And centuries later Mallory ascribed

To Arthur as Champion of Right;

 

But we who would live through the slaughter that day

And saw the cruel fury with which he would slay,

Could never take oath on our weapons and say

Lord Arthur – A Chivalrous Knight.

 

But victory won and Gorfyddyd slain

And Gundleus given to Nimue again

Who peeled off his skin and, to cries of his pain,

Danced and gave thanks to the Fates.

 

And Arthur ap Uther, no longer Wild Beast,

Outwardly smiled at the victory feast

But inwardly planned for the foe to the East,

The Saxon at Lloegyr’s gates.