King Arthur in Folklore: A Sleeping King Or A Giant?

Few figures loom as large in British legend as King Arthur. Noble king, fair-minded monarch, mighty warrior – Arthur ends up taking on all of these roles at various points, and often a few more besides.

His first appearance that can be dated is in the 9th-century Historia Brittonum by Nennius. He also pops up in Welsh poetry, before Geoffrey of Monmouth’s History of the Kings of Britain tries to provide a narrative for his life. Then he appears in the 12th-century romances of Chrétien de Troyes and his legend really takes off.

Yet we’re not interested in Arthurian literature in this post. Nor are we concerned with when or even where the stories are set within a historical context. Did Arthur exist? That falls totally beyond our scope, my friends.

Here, we’re interested in Arthur as he appears in folklore and the popular imagination outside of the world of Arthurian stories. How did ordinary people relate to him? Folklore is more useful here, so let’s find out how King Arthur appears in folk traditions.

The Sleeping King

One of the most common themes in Arthurian folklore is the idea of Arthur as a ‘King in the Mountain’. I’ve covered this story trope before and you can read more about it here. But as a short refresher, these are stories in which a king (in this case Arthur) is sleeping in an underground space until an occasion when his country needs him again.

Perhaps this comes from a reference in a Welsh poem that suggests Arthur’s grave will be “a mystery until Doomsday” (Simpson 2003: 9).

The belief was sufficiently pervasive that in 1113, a fight broke out in Bodmin after a local man assured some Frenchmen that Arthur still lived, and they laughed at him (Simpson 2003: 9).

It’s worth noting that people knew about Arthur’s supposed tomb at Glastonbury by the 1460s when Sir Thomas Malory wrote Le Morte d’Arthur. Yet Malory ignores this and claims that Arthur went to Avalon to be healed (Simpson 2003: 9). That the women who bore Arthur away apparently later returned with a corpse created confusion as to whether it was Arthur. But the doubt seems to have been sufficient to allow people to believe Arthur still lived.

Of course, we have to bear in mind that the idea of Arthur going to Avalon so nine queens could heal him came from Geoffrey of Monmouth. He’s about as reliable a historical source as your average wheelbarrow. It doesn’t seem to have caught on with ordinary people though, who favour the Sleeping King story.

The General Plot

While the story varies, there is a common narrative behind Sleeping King stories. An ordinary labourer (often a farmer) ends up finding a secret door in a hillside. Upon following the corridor, he finds Arthur and his court asleep. There is often a sword and a horn, and the labourer needs to interact with them in a particular way to wake Arthur. When he fails, Arthur and his court resume their slumber. The labourer finds himself back outside but never finds the entrance again.

Common sites for this legend are Richmond Castle in Yorkshire, Cadbury Castle in Somerset, and Sewingshields Castle in Northumberland. I’ve covered the latter before. There are also various sites in Wales and Scotland that also apparently host the sleeping court of Camelot.

Richmond Castle, Yorkshire

Richmond Castle is a Norman castle in North Yorkshire. Yet the castle is less interesting to us than the cave beneath it.

According to legend, a potter named Thompson walked near the castle when a stranger led him to a vault underneath. Many people lay sleeping on the ground. The man presented him with a sword and a horn. Unsure what to do, Thompson began to draw the sword from its scabbard.

The air filled with the sounds of stirring knights and Thompson panicked. Clearly terrified out of his wits, he let the sword slide back into its scabbard. The noise stopped as suddenly as it started.

As he ran from the cave, a voice intoned,

“Potter, Potter Thompson!
If thou had either drawn
The sword or blown that horn,
Thou’d be the luckiest man
That ever yet was born.”

(Westwood 2005: 835)

In some versions of the story, a certain length of time had to elapse before another opportunity of breaking the spell would present itself (Westwood 2005: 835). In others, the potter blocked up the entrance, so sadly, we might never be able to wake Arthur up (Johnson n.d.). It’s a shame, because it would be fascinating to see what he’d make of the state of England now.

Yet this version of the legend is fascinating for the introduction of the stranger. Here, he leads the ordinary person into the fantastical environment, rather than the ordinary person stumbling into it, as he does at Sewingshields Castle.

Cadbury Castle, Somerset

Cadbury Castle actually takes its name from Cada’s Burgh, and is better known for its Iron Age hill fort. It lies some twelve miles from Glastonbury. That location no doubt helps with the legend.

In 1542, antiquarian John Leland claimed it as the true site of Camelot (Westwood 2005: 639). It’s unclear why, and his only evidence seemed to be the finding of a silver horseshoe at the site. William Camden later claimed the locals referred to the hill as King Arthur’s Palace. This may explain why there is an Arthur’s Well in the fort. Either way, Malory linked Camelot with Winchester, not Cadbury Castle (Simpson 2003: 43).

Traditions collected in the 1890s claimed that Arthur and his court lived inside the hill. Apparently, they rode forth on horses wearing silver horseshoes at the full moon and let the horses drink from Arthur’s Well (Westwood 2005: 640). These silver horseshoes apparently explain the presence of a silver shoe on the hill. Though it does make me wonder…lots of stories of mounds involve the fairies inside hollow hills. Does Arthur’s court not use iron horseshoes because they’re connected with fairies?

That idea of coming forth at midnight on a full moon to drink also makes me think of many of the standing stones legends I’ve covered here on the blog.

If you hang around the hill on Midsummer’s Eve, the gates in the hillside open and you can see Arthur inside. Stories disagree about whether the gates are iron or gold (Westwood 2005: 640). Presumably, this is something you could test.

Northumberland

I’ve covered the Sewingshields Castle version of the legend here. It sees either a shepherd or a farmer find his way into the hidden cave, depending on the variant.

Yet there is a version from Dunstanburgh Castle that reflects the story from Richmond Castle. A stranger leads a knight, named Guy the Seeker, down into the subterranean hall. This stranger apparently wears a robe, has a long white beard, and carried an iron wand. We’re led to believe this is Merlin. As it is, the identity of the court below ground is never made clear. Only a beautiful woman lies in a crystal tomb, surrounded by knights – there is no mention of King Arthur.

Sir Guy faces the sword and horn dilemma, and having heard stories of this before, he tries blowing the horn first. Having forgotten to unsheath the sword first, his efforts come to naught.

True, this version doesn’t include Arthur, but the prevalence of the legend – and the fact Sir Guy has heard these legends before – does remind us of these tales even when Arthur isn’t in them.

Alderley Edge, Cheshire

I’ve added this at the end since the association between the caves at Alderley Edge and Arthur only dates to the Victorian period. Mrs Gaskell refers to the tradition in a letter of 1838, insisting that Arthur and his court lay sleeping in golden armour until England’s peril roused them. The following year, the poem ‘The Iron Gate: A Legend of Alderley’ immortalised a fuller version of the story, thus linking the caves with Arthur (Westwood 2005: 75).

It doesn’t appear out of nowhere. Earlier stories abounded of warriors in these caves, ready for war. Wizards appear as well, and many tales involve a mysterious man trying to buy a white horse from a farmer so that the knights have enough horses to ride. But the fact it takes the Victorians to link the sleeping warriors with Arthur shows the deep-seated fascination with the motif.

Arthur as a Giant

There is another strand of folklore involving Arthur that suggests he may have been a giant. Or, at least, people saw him as one. Arthur’s Seat near Sewingshields is a massive crag, suggesting a massive person would sit in it. Cornwall has a megalith called Arthur’s Quoit. There’s another massive stone called, simply, Arthur’s Stone in Hereford; Arthur’s knees apparently made the dents in the stone (Simpson 2003: 9).

A conical hill near Richmond is called the Round Howe, and there is a limestone cliff nearby in which you’ll find a cave called Arthur’s Oven. There’s also a stone called Arthur’s Oven in Devon, noted in 1240 (Westwood 2005: 835). The association with these caves and Arthur somewhat suggests Arthur to have had a gigantic stature. The Richmond example is certainly fascinating, given the presence of the vault beneath Richmond Castle where Arthur apparently sleeps.

In 1191, an excavation found a grave containing two sets of remains at Glastonbury Abbey. One was a skeleton of a gigantic man, bearing many wounds. The other was a woman, which inexplicably still had long golden hair. Someone touched it, and the hair crumbled to dust. Eventually, the Abbey erected a lead cross at the grave, saying; “Here lies buried the renowned King Arthur with Guinevere his second wife, in the Isle of Avalon” (Simpson 2003: 145).

The skeletons ended up in a black marble mausoleum, which was destroyed during the Reformation. Obviously, this idea of Arthur being buried at Glastonbury Abbey, or Avalon, flies in the face of the Welsh and Breton tradition that Arthur didn’t die. He couldn’t exactly return to save the country if he wasn’t sleeping beneath it. But the size of the skeleton certainly played into existing ideas around Arthur as a giant.

There are legends that see Arthur defeat giants, and if he himself was a giant, these battles make more sense. In one legend, he kills a giant in the Eryri region of Wales.

What do we make of this King Arthur Folklore?

In a political sense, Victorian attitudes toward Arthur saw him recast as a way to legitimise all kinds of “political, colonial, cultural and economic power and identity” (Higham 2002: 2). And this is part of the problem with Arthur; debates as to whether he existed allow him to be used for all kinds of purposes, which often run counter to what he was supposed to represent.

For Rodney Castleden, Arthur became a lost Celtic leader, who represented what Britain might have been “had it not been destroyed by the Saxon invader” (2003: 3). In the belief that Arthur continues to wait for the day when he would defeat “the enemy, whoever it might be” (2003: 3), we see Arthur turned into a mythic figure. Castleden describes him in this turn as a god. He suggests this is what lies behind the ‘discovery’ of Arthur’s coffin in 1190; Henry II sought to destroy any hopes harboured by the Celtic nations that Arthur might rid them of the Plantagenets (2003: 3). Edward I repeated the trick by ensuring a crown “alleged to be Arthur’s” was presented to him at Aberconwy in 1283. Here, he could further stamp his authority on the Welsh by appropriating “the regalia of the ancient British kings” (2003: 3).

Castleden suggests Arthur’s existence “between king and demi-god, between Christianity and paganism, between history and myth” explains his enduring appeal (2003: 5). Recasting King Arthur as this mythical figure perhaps explains why there is a rare belief that in some places, Arthur leads the Wild Hunt (Simpson 2003: 10).

Could this explain his larger-than-life persona? Alternatively, King Arthur as a giant taps into existing folklore and legend about giants in Britain. Look at the hill figures as examples of giants striding across these islands. Arthur’s political ramifications are almost irrelevant when he’s situated within these existing folk traditions. And why would he not be? If people could replace giants with the Devil in their stories, then they could certainly replace giants with Arthur.

As to the idea of Arthur sleeping underground, waiting until he’s needed…I can’t help thinking that’s just wishful thinking in turbulent times. It also depends which Arthur we would get…fair-minded diplomat, or violent warrior!

What do you make of King Arthur and his folklore?

References

Castleden, Rodney (2003), King Arthur: The Truth Behind the Legend, London: Taylor and Francis (affiliate link).

Higham, N. J. (2002), King Arthur: Myth-making and History, London: Routledge (affiliate link).

Johnson, Ben (no date), ‘Legend of Richmond Castle’, Historic UK, https://www.historic-uk.com/CultureUK/Legend-of-Richmond-Castle/.

Simpson, Jacqueline and Steve Roud (2003), A Dictionary of English Folklore, Oxford: Oxford University Press (affiliate link).

Westwood, Jennifer and Simpson, Jacqueline (2005), The Lore of the Land: A Guide to England’s Legends, London: Penguin (affiliate link).