it.
Constantius does not tell us where this “camp” was situated, but does say that it was during Lent and that upon the arrival of the bishops the soldiers eagerly
sought baptism. A small chapel was built out of branches, and Easter was celebrated. In the absenceof any other military leader, Germanus offered himself as their general.
Constantius continues:
He chose some lightly-armed troops and made a tour of the outworks. In the direction from which the enemy were expected he saw a valley enclosed by steep mountains. Here
he stationed an army on a new model, under his own command.
By now the savage host of the enemy was close at hand and Germanus rapidly circulated an order that all should repeat in unison the call he would give as a battle-cry. Then, while the
enemy were still secure in the belief that their approach was unexpected, the bishops three times chanted the Alleluia. All, as one man, repeated it and the shout they raised rang through the
air and was repeated many times in the confined space between the mountains.
The enemy were panic-stricken, thinking that the surrounding rocks and the very sky itself were falling on them. Such was their terror that no effort of their feet seemed enough to save
them. They fled in every direction, throwing away their weapons and thankful if they could save their skins. Many threw themselves into the river, which they had just crossed at their ease,
and were drowned in it.
This became known as the Alleluia victory and entered legend. For Constantius, writing fifty or so years later, it would have been a noted event, and therefore it is all the
more surprising that he does not say where it took place. Indeed, throughout his biography of Germanus, Constantius’s description of Britain is woefully lacking, suggesting he had not visited
Britain himself. There is a site in what was north Powys, called Maesgarmon, just outside Mold in Flintshire, where the River Alun runs through a steep valley. If this was the site then the
combined Pict/Saxon army had sailed along the River Dee, suggesting the army may also have included Irish warriors. This area has several Arthurian sites, including Moel Arthur and particularly
Moel Fenlli ( see Chapter 6).
What is perhaps most surprising about this account is that the British forces had no competent battle leader of their own.Germanus was a dux in his own right and
could have been the most senior official at the “camp”, and been offered the command through respect. Or it could have been a purely nominal gesture, with Germanus being the spiritual
leader of the troops, whilst the temporal commander is conveniently forgotten. It may even be that this battle had nothing to do with Germanus, who may have become confused with the British holy
man Garmon, of whom more later.
We may wonder, though, whether by the year 429 the British troops had become demoralised and lacked training, even though this was not long after Cunedda’s forces had been restationed in
North Wales. Gildas has some comments on the state of the British defences, as we shall see in the next chapter.
In summing up the victory Constantius remarks:
Thus this most wealthy island, with the defeat of both its spiritual and its human foes, was rendered secure in every sense.
No matter how much Constantius embellishes this text, he was writing within only a generation or two of the real events and his readers would know exactly how Britain had fared
over those years. Thus we must give some credence to his account that at this time Britain was wealthy and still unconquered by the Saxons.
Constantius reveals that some years after this visit there was a resurgence of Pelagianism, and Germanus was again called upon to visit Britain, this time accompanied by Severus, bishop of
Trier. The decision to return to Britain must have been sudden (despite another synod of bishops) because British officials were unaware of it. An official called Elafius, described
Constantius does not tell us where this “camp” was situated, but does say that it was during Lent and that upon the arrival of the bishops the soldiers eagerly
sought baptism. A small chapel was built out of branches, and Easter was celebrated. In the absenceof any other military leader, Germanus offered himself as their general.
Constantius continues:
He chose some lightly-armed troops and made a tour of the outworks. In the direction from which the enemy were expected he saw a valley enclosed by steep mountains. Here
he stationed an army on a new model, under his own command.
By now the savage host of the enemy was close at hand and Germanus rapidly circulated an order that all should repeat in unison the call he would give as a battle-cry. Then, while the
enemy were still secure in the belief that their approach was unexpected, the bishops three times chanted the Alleluia. All, as one man, repeated it and the shout they raised rang through the
air and was repeated many times in the confined space between the mountains.
The enemy were panic-stricken, thinking that the surrounding rocks and the very sky itself were falling on them. Such was their terror that no effort of their feet seemed enough to save
them. They fled in every direction, throwing away their weapons and thankful if they could save their skins. Many threw themselves into the river, which they had just crossed at their ease,
and were drowned in it.
This became known as the Alleluia victory and entered legend. For Constantius, writing fifty or so years later, it would have been a noted event, and therefore it is all the
more surprising that he does not say where it took place. Indeed, throughout his biography of Germanus, Constantius’s description of Britain is woefully lacking, suggesting he had not visited
Britain himself. There is a site in what was north Powys, called Maesgarmon, just outside Mold in Flintshire, where the River Alun runs through a steep valley. If this was the site then the
combined Pict/Saxon army had sailed along the River Dee, suggesting the army may also have included Irish warriors. This area has several Arthurian sites, including Moel Arthur and particularly
Moel Fenlli ( see Chapter 6).
What is perhaps most surprising about this account is that the British forces had no competent battle leader of their own.Germanus was a dux in his own right and
could have been the most senior official at the “camp”, and been offered the command through respect. Or it could have been a purely nominal gesture, with Germanus being the spiritual
leader of the troops, whilst the temporal commander is conveniently forgotten. It may even be that this battle had nothing to do with Germanus, who may have become confused with the British holy
man Garmon, of whom more later.
We may wonder, though, whether by the year 429 the British troops had become demoralised and lacked training, even though this was not long after Cunedda’s forces had been restationed in
North Wales. Gildas has some comments on the state of the British defences, as we shall see in the next chapter.
In summing up the victory Constantius remarks:
Thus this most wealthy island, with the defeat of both its spiritual and its human foes, was rendered secure in every sense.
No matter how much Constantius embellishes this text, he was writing within only a generation or two of the real events and his readers would know exactly how Britain had fared
over those years. Thus we must give some credence to his account that at this time Britain was wealthy and still unconquered by the Saxons.
Constantius reveals that some years after this visit there was a resurgence of Pelagianism, and Germanus was again called upon to visit Britain, this time accompanied by Severus, bishop of
Trier. The decision to return to Britain must have been sudden (despite another synod of bishops) because British officials were unaware of it. An official called Elafius, described
Similar Books
