Many people have grown up hearing the story of King Arthur and his marvelous Knights of the Round Table; the glorious court of Camelot; the Age of Noble Knighthood and Golden Chivalry, where supposedly a maiden could walk alone with a purse of gold across the country without being accosted or hostilely treated. Tales of magic and mystery, of heroic deeds and valiant quests – tales that glow with the sunset of an era of human civilization and the dawn of another. Dozens of authors have spun their own versions of this timeless saga, yet the core of the story remains the same. A great king, a company of soldiers, a grand quest, and more often than not, a search into the very essence of what it means to be human. The story of Arthur is complex enough to cover several genres: it is a semi-historical biography of a great war-leader; a fairy tale to delight even the most cynical in its depth, full of magic, monsters, and mystery; it is a morality play that would have fit into any fair in medieval Europe, compassing as it does subjects of love, duty, and honor, and the consequences of breaking them; it is a philosophical insight into how societies adapt to change; and a cultural experience rich with song and myth and good common folk.

Differing version of the saga have different characters and positions, but there are several core personalities. Obviously, Arthur is ever present and, for the most part, unchanged. In Arthur, one can see all that being a leader demands of oneself. Arthur is the life and blood of both his land and his people. While he remains true to the ideals of his society, his is a golden age. Yet when he begins to age, and his wisdom becomes clouded, the glorious kingdom he worked so hard to build quickly falls apart into chaos, a chaos that Arthur’s antithesis, his son Mordred, exploits to bring about his father’s downfall. In Arthur, one can see the struggle of a simple man raised to the heights of the mighty, and the burden such exaltation brings.

There are two major female figures in the saga, each seemingly opposed to the other. Yet a simple analysis of their characters shows that at the root of these towering figures are two simple women struggling for their own amidst a male-dominated world, each going her own separate path to reach a similar goal. Guinevere (or Gwenhwyfar in a more linguistically correct spelling) is the Queen of Britain. As such, she is noble and kind to all of her subjects, suitably pious and modest in conduct, and a medieval model of the perfect woman and queen. Yet she has one major flaw – she loves another man besides her husband. Many authors have used this to explain why Arthur’s kingdom declines from glory, especially Malory and Tennyson, both of whom treat Guinevere harshly. Other authors, especially modern ones, have focused on the human side of her, treating the affair as a love story.

The other side of Woman in Arthur is the duo of Morgan le Fay and the Lady of the Lake, both of whom seem to possibly be the same person, sometimes Arthur’s sister, sometimes his aunt, sometimes neither. Many authors equate the Lady of the Lake with Morgan, and portray her as an enchantress of great art, sometimes evil, sometimes beneficent, but always working toward her own goals whether or not they coincide with those of the court at Camelot. However, one modern author, Marion Zimmer Bradley, in her book The Mists of Avalon, shows a totally different side of Morgan (or Morgaine) than is traditionally presented. In that book, Morgaine is a priestess of the old religion fighting to keep her beliefs, and Arthur’s oaths, alive in an increasingly oppressive Christian society. She is just as human and apt to fail as Arthur, and just as determined that the future of Britain should be in her favor as Arthur’s priests, even if it means forsaking her own brother. This Morgan is much more human and much easier to be understood than the medieval witch.

Another defender of the pre-Christian religion at Camelot is Merlin/Myrddin. Traditionally portrayed as a benevolent sorcerer who helps Arthur on his rise to the Kingship, and then mysteriously disappears just before the kingdom collapses, he can be seen as the more diplomatic and tactful version of Morgan. Malory places him behind Arthur’s rise to the throne as the silent manipulator of events. The traditional Welsh tales say that Myrddin was a Druid of great influence and power, often going by the name Taliesin. Other stories separate the two names, keeping Myrddin as the Druid, and making Taliesin a bard who could enchant his listeners by the power of his tales, and the father of Myrddin. Most stories recount his demise at the hands of a maiden, many of them saying she used his own power to trap him inside of a hollow oak tree, a traditional Druidic way of dealing with traitors and oath breakers. None of the stories say what he might have betrayed or which oath he broke, however.

Throughout the saga, glimpses of Celtic mythology reveal themselves, as well as Roman ideas and medieval ways of life. As a whole, the saga seems to be a medley of change between something fading and something rising. There is the fading of the world of Avalon and Druidism into the mists of Faerie with the advent of the iron and the crosses of the Christian priests; there is the contrast between Arthur, the Sun King, and his son Mordred, whose very name sounds cold and dark; Lancelot, the hero of the former age, is upstaged by his son Galahad, who is himself a manifestation of a Welsh light deity, Gwalchavad; Merlin is destroyed and Morgan snubbed, while the Cross wins the battle of Badon Hill. The whole story hangs teetering between the end of the Roman and Pagan era, and the start of the new, Christian, medieval one.

It is that very medieval mind that finds so much to relate from the original story to itself. Chrétien de Troyes started writing down the story of Arthur the war leader into the saga we know today sometime in the 12th century. He was responsible for many of the elements that we think of, including the introduction of Lancelot, and the story of Perceval and the Holy Grail. Geoffrey of Monmouth attempted to bring together a history of the Kings of Britain, including Arthur, in the 13th, but many scholars believe that he made much of his information up.

One concept that medieval writers loved was the idea of Camelot. Camelot was everything a noble court should be – its king was regal and noble; its knights and warriors proud, honorable, and chivalrous; its queen chaste and above reproach (until Malory); its people content and their needs satisfied; peace reigned throughout the land, and war was almost unheard of. It was this sort of world that Sir Thomas More later tried to capture in his Utopia. Closely related to Camelot in medieval thinking was Montsalvat, the home of the Grail. Each was a kingdom where right prevailed, and honor was tantamount. Yet there was a fatal flaw in both kingdoms: their kings failed. In Camelot, Arthur fell into despair, was dealt a mortal wound, and his kingdom of light and glory plunged into darkness; in Montsalvat, the reverse happened – the Fisher King was dealt his wound, and in bitterness and guilt, he allowed his kingdom to become the Place Dolorous. There was a redeeming element in each tale, though. Arthur, in a last attempt to save his land, reconciles with Lancelot, and does not give up without a fight. In Montsalvat, The Fisher King realizes that he can do no more and hands his throne over to Perceval, who heals his unhealing wound and restores his kingdom. The restoration of Montsalvat is the perfection of Camelot. The old Camelot, now faded, its honor and glory gone, is brought forth anew as Perceval, with the shining example of knighthood in Galahad to follow, rules over Montsalvat as the Grail King and Knight.

Three major medieval symbols have their beginnings in the Arthurian saga. One of them is, obviously, Arthur himself. Arthur is the ideal King. He is also the face of humanity in the story. He faces the trials of the common man in uncommon situations, and he struggles just as each person does. It is Arthur who is caught between two powerful forces in his world, and it is his choices that signify the transition between them. Arthur is the one who must decide between friendship and honor, and it is he who finally realizes that a dear friend is the most valuable thing to have.

The single most important medieval religious symbol was the Holy Grail. Pictured as the cup of the Last Supper, used both there and to catch the blood of Jesus at the cross, it was the epitome of holiness. Yet, it does not come in to the saga until late in the tale, shortly after the great victory of the cross at Badon Hill. Its context, then can bee seen to signify the growing role of Christianity in Arthur’s world. As Christian ideas and views take hold, the Quest for the Grail calls each of the Knights on a search for their own places, both in themselves and in the new world. In search of ultimate holiness, they discover the depth of their own characters.

There was one place that resonated with the same power as Camelot to the Arthurian figures. It went by many names – the Enchanted Isle, the Forgotten Isle, Isle of Apples, Yns Witrin (Isle of Glass) – yet one name was recognized above all: Avalon. Sometimes considered a holy island, in many stories it was the last refuge of Druidism in the newly Christianized Britain. The common folk of Britain revered it, and in the hills, Avalon was still a friend to the Folk, who were being vilified as demons and devils by the priests. It was to Avalon that Arthur went to be healed from his wound, and it is, according to legend, from Avalon that he will return again in Britain’s hour of direst need. “Hic Iacet Arthurus, Rex Quondam, Rexque Futurus, (Here lies Arthur, King that was, King that shall be)” says Malory in his Morte D’Artur. (Simon, 1624)

As mentioned before, the Quest of the Grail was the testing ground of the Knights of the Table. The object was perfection; the path was one’s own self. In a flash of light, the Grail appeared to the court, and one by one, each of the knights swore to follow it till they found it or died in the attempt (some versions say only a year and a day, which was a common period of time for holding to a vow). The shining star of the court, Lancelot, was taught humility, seeing the Grail only in a clouded dream, his own sin keeping him from his long-desired prize. Gawain, the king’s favorite next to Lancelot, never even got close, giving up and returning to grow old at court. The only one deemed worthy enough of attaining the Grail, Galahad, pure in heart and soul, died in ecstatic rapture when he laid eyes on the Grail. Only Perceval, a descendant of the royal line of Christ through David, reached the physical reality of Montsalvat with his friend Bors, who immediately went back to Camelot to tell the news. All the while, the Knights saw the kingdom deteriorate around them, thanks to the poison of Mordred, who stayed at court. In search of higher things, they neglected the things they were in charge of; their search for perfection led to the dissolution of their dream.

But the impact of Arthur’s story does not end there. Throughout the ages since his story was first told, people have dreamed of a place of glory and honor where every man and woman was treated the same; where noble ideals determined courses of action, instead of greed and personal motives; where concepts of Honor, Justice, and Mercy were more than just empty words, where they were actual practices. In the modern era, people have begun searching anew for their own personal grails, and overcoming obstacles in themselves. The prospect of a perfect society was so real to the American public in the Fifties and Sixties that they lovingly considered their new leader Arthur returned, so much so as to name his administration “Camelot.” It was a time of advances and discovery. The final frontier was conquered, the threat of Communism seemed to lessen, and the “Golden Age” began.

Around the same time, the feminist movement gained momentum. In an effort to “reclaim” literature, many writers rewrote the old tales, emphasizing the roles of the women in them. The most influential of these to the Arthurian story was Marion Zimmer Bradley. She wrote several books about Avalon, the most famous being The Mists of Avalon. In those books, she revisited the stories, and rewrote them, both more historically and culturally accurate and from the female point of view. The story is Arthur’s, but the tellers are Igraine and Morgaine and Guinevere. Other authors revisited the story of Montsalvat and did similar things, Judith Tarr among them in Kingdom of the Grail.

Throughout the ages, Arthur and his Knights have been ideals and examples for people from every walk of life in their search to find out what it means to be human; what ideals are; the true meaning of justice and honor; what it means to have to make hard choices. The Boy-King has been an inspiration to boys, and girls, and even adults to try to become the best they can be, and he also serves as a warning to those who do not use their power wisely and fairly. In truth, the Arthurian saga has probably done more for Western consciousness than any other single piece of literature except for perhaps the Christian Bible.

Bradley, M. Z. The Mists of Avalon. Ballantine Pub. Group, 2001

Lawhead, Stephen. The Pendragon Cycle: Taliesin, Merlin, Arthur, Pendragon, Grail. Crossway Books.

Simon, Peter (ed.). The Norton Anthology: World Masterpieces. Vol.1, seventh ed. “Morte Darthur” W. W. Norton & Co. 1984(1999)

Tarr, Judith. Kingdom of the Grail. Penguin Group, Inc/Ltd. : Arthurian Legend.

100 Arthurian links (updated 2000)