Around the 5th Century AD the Roman
Empire began to shrink and eventually collapsed. Most believe it
had grown too large, attacked from all sides it became impossible to defend. In
its dying years the Empire broke in half with two Emperors ruling the
East and West, yet still badly governed. The people of Britain looked to Rome for reinforcements against the invading warriors, but help would never come. This was the time of stories about Arthur
and the Knights of the Round Table.
The Dark Ages were named because of the lack of written
material that survived, which in turn was largely because most Britons could
not write. Early poems like ‘Gawain & The Green Knight’ or Malory’s book ‘Le
Morte Darthur’, widely thought to be Arthur in his truest form, were not
completed till the 14th & 15th century. Before this
the legends of Camelot were told by word of mouth and possibly 1500 years later
we still tell these stories to children. The stories themselves became a
living, breathing thing; with each storyteller bringing a new and interesting
message or spinning its tale to meet their own agenda. The constant in each telling are the values of bravery and looking after those who need our help.
When I was a kid, my Aunt gave me a book about the Knights
of Camelot. My favourite character was Percival; he was not born into a noble
house, instead raised in the wild forests of Wales by his mother. He was impulsive,
angry, a nervous chatter. Percival was never meant to be a Knight he just
killed a bully and robbed his armour. Here was me angry at myself with any
failings, whether it be learning stuff or loosing a running race. Frustrated
with all the injustices of the infant school playground. A little scrapper at
times, a dreamer and often feeling out of my depth.
My parents divorced when I was about 3 or 4 years old and
things were difficult for a while. My Dad moved to a flat in town and
understandably we didn’t have a lot of money. My sister’s had to give up
learning their instruments and clubs. We couldn’t afford to buy new things, but being the youngest this was normal for me. Life was still good - we had a nice house to live in and a
little garden with tall trees that were good for climbing and for goalposts, so all the
kids in the street liked to come round. Every Friday Mum bought us each a
chocolate bar if we were good and Christmas we always had great presents from
both of them. Books became a perfect escape, laying down in my tiny box/bedroom.
I remember the Saturday shop with my Mum, getting the bus
into town and helping her with the bags. I doubt mine would have
been heavy, I was about 4 years old, but I do remember the hill we had to climb
which was pretty much vertical! So from being young I was taught that everyone
around me had needs and life was not just about doing the things I wanted to
do. I will always be grateful for the sense of grounding and purpose I learned as a child. As I grew older the books given to me of Knights and of Robin
Hood offered a clear understanding of how to treat people, before I was drawn to the alluring
world of computer games that didn’t take forever to load up.
My favourite
chapter of Percival’s life doesn’t involve a great battle or the rescuing of a lady from a gang of brigands. It’s a tale more human then that. Badly wounded
after a fight, Percival stumbles across the hidden castle of Carbonek
Percival was not to be the one to bring the Grail to Camelot;
the honour was to be given to a better man. Blanchfleur explains that since
they met, her father bought her to Carbonek to be one of the keepers of the
Grail. Percival’s part in the story would be to tell others what he had seen. One day
he would help Galahad find the Grail, because only he was worthy of it. But
Blanchefleur had never forgotten Percival and she would wait for him to come
get her, when his part was done.
I suppose I’ve never found it easy to promote myself as a
person. I’ve started trying to recently but it never felt right, I know my flaws better then most. I’ve spent too
much time in town hearing people talk about how good they are at stuff,
bragging and saying how happy they are in their life. – You know the people
that you just want to smack in the moosh! The stories I prefer to hear in the
pub are the ones about the friend who leaves work early to coach maths and
reading to kids at school. Or the girl who works in the café and smiles at
everyone that comes in. She takes a genuine interest in all the customers who
have time to chat. These people are more interesting to me and I bet they have
met some great characters along the way! It seems a shame we often feel we
can’t talk about these acts of politeness without thinking its taking something
away from it all.
From the Dark Ages came an ideal that to my mind never
really flourished as it should, when light (or the written word) re-emerged. It
was the concept that everyone is important, no matter their standing. That
those of us who are strong and have the most power in society, would uphold
this truth no matter the personal cost. At least that’s what I read in a book
when I was a kid.
