May marks the beginning of festival and tournament season for many an intrepid fencer. For us, the summer arrives in the shape of Swordpunk, a breathtaking boutique festival where weapons experts and circus performers come together to share skills and soak up the sun in the stunning private estate of Newnham Paddox.
We’ve been involved with this community extravaganza since before lockdown, and its unique combination of relaxation and serious wow factor keeps us coming back for more. After all, where else can you learn staff fighting, axe throwing, sharp cutting, fire spinning and belly dancing all in the same place?
∴ A Skill Shared ∴
After two events of supervising the sharp cutting stand, we decided to return to our roots with an accessible entry-level metalworking workshop.
Chris decided to teach copper bangle making, recalling the first time he ever brought hammer to metal at a workshop at Glastonbury many years ago. He still wears the copper bangle he made on that day as a reminder of his journey from curious beginner to full-time smith.
We held our workshop in the shady woodland bower at Newnham Paddox, and talked groups of five through shaping and decorating copper bar into one-of-a-kind pieces of jewellery.
We were remarkably impressed by all our participants’ efforts, and everyone walked away with something they could wear with pride. We like to think that some even got the metalworking bug, and may go on to create wonders all of their own!
As Swordpunk is, at its heart, all about sharing skills and supporting fellow artists and enthusiasts, we could hardly leave without some handmade mementos of our own. Fortunately Swordpunk’s Emporium was full of beautiful crafted items from its multi-talented crew.
We bought a stunning lathe-turned bowl made from spalted beech, and a treasure of a fountain pen made from green-dyed maple burr with dragon-themed brass fittings. Both are the creations of the skilled Ian Savin, and will be used regularly and lovingly at Balefire HQ.
∴ A Song of Fire and More Fire ∴
Credit to David Hastings for the photograph
By day, Swordpunk is a whirlwind of classes, workshops, free fencing and lake swimming. By night, however, it’s a firestorm. The legendary Swordpunk fire circle is home to a host of professional performers from across the country, from staff spinners and hula hoopers to whip crackers and costumed story tellers – all with fire as their medium.
On Friday night, Alicia took part in the show herself, showing off some fire poi moves under the watchful eye of the experts. On Saturday, however, the heat was turned up and we saw armoured knights fighting with flaming swords and shields, winged demons setting fire to paraffin bubbles, and fast-paced choreography incorporating fire staffs, whips, poi and rope darts. It all culminated in a joyful pandaemonium as we danced under the stars to live samba drumming.
If this all sounds like a far-fetched fantasy to you, we can only recommend that you come and see for yourself. Tickets for September’s Swordpunk will be available soon from www.swordpunk.co.uk. We’ll be there with our mini forge in tow, teaching blacksmithing and leatherworking classes. Perhaps we’ll see you there!
Many thanks to Alex and Suzy Denbigh for hosting the festival on their land, and to Dan Smith and Sally Stone for making this fantasy real.
It feels like only months ago I was writing our last New Year’s update in the middle of lockdown, and wondering what 2021 would hold. While it’s undoubtedly been a year of ups and downs across the board, we have been fortunate to have the faith and support of our customers and community throughout.
In many ways, 2021 was a tentative step into a wider world, after the restrictions of early Covid. We were delighted to attend not one but two combat arts events – the madcap Swordpunk and the renowned Malta Historical Fencing Association International Event. Each gave us a well-needed shot of perspective, reminding us why we love the work we do.
We also settled back into regular training with our own fencing group here in Sussex, experimenting with new fencing forms, which in turn informed Chris’s craft and research. From heated pub debates to the heat of the forge, our inspiration relies heavily on our friends and comrades.
Perhaps the year’s greatest blessing – and testament to our hard work – was a steady stream of creative and challenging commissions. From close museum replicas to original fantasy concepts, we have been continually increasing our skills and knowledge to keep up with our clients’ visions.
∴ A Look to the Future ∴
And so we teeter on the brink of another new year – one which we hope will offer a new sense of stability after a challenging period of change all round. We look forward to the reopening of more fencing events, which offer us a chance to meet old friends and future customers – and we look forward to the continued challenges of running an artisanal business.
As always, Chris is questing to increase his skills and add new levels of historical detail to his pieces. In line with this, we will be revisiting the way we draw up quotes and timescales, with the aim of giving closer production estimates. As the quality of each aspect of Chris’s swords increases, so does the time spent making them – and it’s important that this is reflected in the cost.
Meanwhile, I shall be working to keep our community up-to-date. From regular communications with existing clients to the launch of a new quarterly newsletter, I will be sharing photos, stories and scholarly musings from the forge. I’m also excited to continue my own academic research into Excalibur and other legendary swords.
We’re already looking forward to compiling our next art photography book for the end of this year, showcasing some of our favourite creations from 2020 and 2021 in greater depth than ever, with progress photos and notes on the unique challenges of making each piece.
∴ A Happy New Year ∴
All that remains is to wish our worldwide community of fencers a brave and joyful new year, full of dear friends and clashing blades. We’re excited to hear your big ideas over the coming year, and to help you turn your vision of a dream sword into steely reality.
As with many fencers, we felt the lack of events deeply over 2020 and 2021. Crossing festivals off the calendar began to take its toll, and those regular reminders of our wider community left a sword-shaped hole.
So it was with immense excitement that we packed our bags last week for an event unlike any other: Swordpunk 2021. This skill-sharing festival combines combat arts like fencing, archery, axe throwing and whip cracking with circus skills such as juggling, fire and flow arts. Tucked away on a Capability Brown-designed estate in Warwickshire, it offers acres of lakes for swimming and woodland for strolling, a well-stocked tavern and an inviting fire pit.
We first got involved with Swordpunk in 2019, when we set up a demonstration forge. We were immediately hooked on the event’s close-knit atmosphere, reminiscent of Robin Hood’s merry men training and feasting together in the woods. When we were invited to return, we decided to show off Chris’s handiwork with something new: a sharp cutting experience.
∴ A Sharpened Skill ∴
Image from Kitab al-makhzun jami al-funun, 1470, Egypt. Housed in Bibliotheque Nationale de France.
At the forge we deal exclusively with blunt-edged fencing swords, so it was a thrill to make some sharpened blades and test their mettle against 30kg of clay. We chose two longswords – one inspired by an early warsword with a broad, thin blade and the other a later, narrower design – and a Warding Sword for the task.
Records since the 1400s, such as the Kitab al-makhzun jami al-funun show Egyptian swordsmen using cones of clay to test their cutting precision with scimitars. A later attestation from the early 1900s states of the Russian Cossacks, “they learned to sabre cones of clay raised on wooden frames. The supreme art consisted in cleaving the obstacles with the point of the blade in such a way that the cut part remained in its place”.
Indeed, many of our aspiring swordspeople managed this feat over the weekend, with others slicing the cone like thin deli meat or sinking their blades deep into its centre. With Chris’s careful guidance on form and flow, both beginners and established swordsfolk found great satisfaction in facing their clay opponent.
∴ A Feast of Fire ∴
When night falls at Swordpunk, the score shifts from the clash of swords, crack of whips and clinking of hammers into drumming and wild applause. The legendary fire circle is a place for professional performers to wow the crowds with pyro magic, but also for aspiring fire mages to have a go themselves.
Having taken up staff and poi spinning over lockdown, we were excited to show off some moves. We also jumped at the chance to duel with the festival’s founder, Dan, as part of the show, combining controlled sparring with a little stage-fighting flourish. The spectacle gradually gave way to dancing with live drums, then cozying up in the tavern with tankards full of mead.
∴ A World Between ∴
Swordpunk is not your grandmother’s fencing event. With no competitive element, the focus is on trying new things, finding your own approach, and forging friendships. One is as likely to partner with a respected instructor as a complete beginner. The sparring is conversational, with each partner excited to learn from the other.
With a medieval fantasy vibe and swordpunks donning elaborate costumes, one may be tempted to see the event as an RPG experience. Certainly, there is escapism to be had in spades. But as we heaved our clay back into the car at the end of the weekend, the difference hit me: everything at Swordpunk is real. The weapons, the risks, the larger-than-life characters.
Rather than letting us play at being swashbuckling, axe-throwing, whip-cracking heroes, Swordpunk creates a space in which we can harness and hone those skills for real. A timely reminder that we are legends of our own making.
After all, isn’t that why we got into fencing in the first place?
The Balefire was always fuelled by stories. Stories of knights-errant and wily rogues; the kinds of stories that filled our shelves and hearts as children, and which inspire us still as we forge and fence. The great swords of legend are never far from our minds when we design bespoke weapons – and in our flights of fancy, we suppose our own work to be a link in the centuries-spanning chain of tales upon sword-wielding tales.
Ask anyone with a passing interest in history to name a famous sword, and one name will find its way forth: Excalibur. The legend of King Arthur has seen a constant cycle of rebirth since it was first recorded in the 11th Century – from Monmouth’s pseudohistories, to Tennyson’s poetic epic, to a stream of star-studded film adaptations. This ancient tale of a great leader and defender, replete with mysterious wizards, dangerous lovers, and magical swords, is often considered the rosetta stone of all English fantasy, drawing older traditions together into one cohesive thread, which has been woven into almost every sword-and-sorcery tale since.
We have all heard the tales of Excalibur, whether drawn from a stone or raised from a lake by an ethereal maiden. But what do we imagine when we bring that sword to mind? An elaborately jewelled hilt, perhaps, and a long, gleaming blade. The gem-encrusted gladius of a Roman emperor, or a gold-inlaid templar longsword. Our interpretations of Excalibur are as myriad as the retellings of Arthur’s tale, each altered to reflect the values and signifiers of wealth in the era it was written in.
Of course, we all know that Excalibur is more than just a sword: it is a symbol of Arthurian nobility and valour, and often a symbol of pagan and Christian traditions entwined. In our own time, it has become equally symbolic of the pride and power of an era long-passed, which we may look back on wistfully or aspire to attain once again. Yet all symbols have their sources. In this series of essays, I hope to explore what the original Excalibur might have looked like, and how that vision has changed over time, reflecting each society that revisited it.
Along the way, we’ll examine relics, retellings, and theories as to the sword’s origins. We will encounter dragons, witches and Viking heroes. And somewhere amidst this trove of tales, we may draw an authentic vision of Excalibur from the dense stone of its stories.
∴ The Battle of Badon ∴
The Battles of Arthur from the Historia Brittonum, Harley 3859, f. 187. Image courtesy of the British Library.
The first mentions of Arthur in our canon are from purportedly historical texts. The 9th Century Historia Brittonum and the Annales Cambriae both refer to the Battle of Badon, dating Arthur to the early sixth Century with scholars variously dating the battle to 493, 501 or 516. This battle is referenced by multiple chroniclers of the 6th-12th centuries, and according to these early sources was won by the Britons against the “barbaric” Anglo-Saxons.
Even the earliest recollection of the battle, from Gildas’ 6th century De Excidio et Conquestu Britanniae, gives the victorious Briton forces a Christian motive for battle, stating, “From that time, the citizens were sometimes victorious, sometimes the enemy, in order that the Lord, according to His wont, might try in this nation the Israel of today, whether it loves Him or not”. He goes on to cite the Christian Romano-Briton leader Ambrosius Aurelianus as a key figure, stating that he won battles “by the goodness of our Lord”.
Gildas’ chronicle does not mention Arthur, a fact which Thomas Green suggests is due to the battle being so well known to the chronicle’s 6th century audience that an exhaustive list of participants was unnecessary. A more intriguing explanation for Arthur’s omission belongs to the 12th century Life of Gildas, which claims that the chronicler removed Arthur from his account after writing, destroying many works which praised him as revenge for the death of his brother Hueil mab Caw.
The much later Gesta Reglum Anglorum, written in the 12th century, links Arthur to Gildas’ account by positing him as a soldier commanded by Ambrosius, perhaps of Roman origin himself: “the Britons’ strength withered away, and their hopes dwindled and ebbed; at this point, in fact, they would have collapsed completely, had not… Ambrosius, the sole surviving Roman, kept down the barbarian menace with the outstanding aid of the warlike Arthur.” The passage goes on to claim that Arthur “deserves to be the subject of reliable history rather than of false and dreaming fable” – a sentiment echoed by scholars still!
∴ King or Commander ∴
Iron spearhead from early 5th-mid 7th century. British Museum 1980 1021.19. Image courtesy of the British Museum creative commons.
The Historia Brittonum, written in 828, contains our first recorded first mention of Arthur, listing twelve battles in which he fought against the Saxons. These include the aforementioned Battle of Badon, in which “nine hundred and forty fell by his hand alone, no one but the Lord affording him assistance.” Here Arthur is given not the title of King, but the epithet “the magnanimous Arthur”, the bold familiarity of which implies that readers may have already heard of the character. This, as well as the 400 years between the suggested battle and the Historia’s writing, suggests that Arthur was already a figure of legend by the 9th century, and that his tale long predated these extant chronicles in the form of oral and earlier written tradition.
Elsewhere in the Historia, Arthur is referred to as “Arthur the soldier” rather than King Arthur. This lack of title is remarked upon explicitly in the text: “though there were many more noble than himself, yet he was twelve times chosen their commander, and was as often conqueror.” Overkingship, or the practice of a king commanding lesser kings, was common in the 5th and 6th centuries, and this passage could still be interpreted to allow for Arthur as a “provincial” king serving under greater rulers. However, it could equally be read that Arthur was remarkable for his common origins: a bold fighter who rose from humble means to command kings and noblemen.
In such a case, the weapon that this Arthur carried may not have been the exquisitely decorated sword of a king, but the battle-beaten tool of a general. In the 6th century, swords were the domain of only the richest warriors, so there’s a chance that the original Excalibur – or at least the weapon wielded by historical Arthur – wasn’t a sword at all, but a spear. According to Richard Underwood, the spear was the most common weapon used between the 5th and 9th centuries, represented in 85% of grave finds containing weapons and 40% of all adult male graves. Spears dated to the purported time of the Battle of Badon commonly had diamond-section blades, concave curved edges and long iron shanks between the socket and blade. The most distinctive of these featured blades up to 50cm long – almost a sword in themselves.
∴ A Clash of Chronicles ∴
The Annales Cambriae, Harley MS 3859, f. 190r. Image courtesy of the British Library.
The Annales Cambriae, dated to the 10th Century,provide correlation to the Historia’s account, dating the Battle of Badon to 516-518, and further mentioning the Battle of Camlann, “in which Arthur and Medraut fell: and there was plague in Britain and Ireland.” This cross-reference has been used by scholars both ancient and modern to confirm that a notable Arthur really did fight at Badon.
The name Medraut can be anglicised to the more familiar Mordred – Arthur’s treacherous nephew and nemesis – adding further “historical” richness to later romanticised accounts of their tragic rivalry such as Geoffrey of Monmouth’s. The question is whether Monmouth lifted the names Arthur and Medraut from the Annales for a tale of his own devising, or whether his rendering refers to a fleshed-out story which predates the Annales themselves.
It is worth noting that the Annales as we know them were likely compiled from a great variety of since-lost source materials. Our earliest extant version of the chronicle, known as the A text, is found in the Harleian Manuscripts, and is a 12th century copy of a 10th century original. The B text, containing much of the same information, is dated to the 13th Century and contains its own additions and amendments. The A text doesn’t give calendar dates, but instead lists years in relation to one another. The B Text includes later entries, with anno domini dates given from 1097. However, these calendar dates conflict with the earlier years, and both disagree with the known dates of historical events.
While Arthur features in the older A text, this complex textual history makes it difficult to ascertain that the Arthurian annals were part of the 10th century original, of which the A text itself is though to be a copy. Arthur may have been added as late as the 12th century, when tales of Arthur and his knights were gaining popularity as a result of Monmouth’s text. The Annales’ correlation with the Badon passage in the Historia Brittonum may in fact prove nothing more than a later collator of the Annales borrowing and embellishing tales from the older text.
It is likewise confounding that Arthur is mentioned neither in Bede’s early 8th century Ecclesiastical History of the English People, nor the late 9th Century Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, both of which give versions of 6th Century history and the former of which deals directly with the Battle of Badon. Bede does seemingly intend to elaborate on the events of Badon, giving a “but of this hereafter”, yet the text never returns to the subject. Perhaps, but for this apparent act of forgetfulness, Bede too would have provided tales of a magnanimous Briton leader single-handedly slaying hundreds of Saxons.
It is, of course, worth taking these early histories with an academic pinch of salt. Considering the extent to which the Historia’s account refers to superhuman feats such as Arthur’s single-handed slaying of 940 men, it is apparent that its author and audience did not share modern scholars’ preoccupation with factual accuracy. Nor, at a time when hagiographies of saints and their miracles were proving popular, did the line between history and allegory seem so set in stone.
∴ Of Wealth and Welding ∴
Fragment from a pattern-welded 6th century sword. British Museum 2006 0305.13. Image courtesy of the British Museum creative commons.
If we do take these early sources at face value, and imagine that the historical “Arthur the soldier” is indeed the Arthur of legend, we can conjure a fairly close idea of what his sword would have looked like. Numerous finds from across the British Isles dating from the 4th-7th centuries follow the same distinct form. Occupying the space between Roman spathas and the Viking swords of later centuries, these single-handed weapons feature straight, broad, two-edged, unfullered blades not dissimilar to Oakeshott’s Type X. Typically these would have measured 86-94cm long and 4.5-5.5cm wide, with exceptional examples as long as 100cm.
Early Anglo-Saxon swords were difficult to make, as only small pieces of iron could be smelted using contemporary furnaces. This required the bladesmith to forge-weld many small pieces into a single blade, and by the early 6th century a great number of blades were pattern-welded from twisted iron rods. This technique allowed for aesthetic patterning, such as herringbone stripes or more complex designs, referred to in Beowulf (itself set in the 6th century) as brogdenmæl (weaving marks) and scirmæled (brightly-patterned).
As such, swords took significantly more time and skill to make than a spear. They were hence held in special regard, symbolising rank and wealth. While 85% of warrior graves bore a spear, only the richest and most highly regarded fighters seem to carry swords to the afterlife. We also have records of significant Anglo Saxon swords being bequeathed across generations, passed down from one king to another. One example is the will of 10th century Æthelstan Ætheling, son of king Æthelred, who left his brother Eadmund Ironside the sword of King Offa of Mercia. This relic was already 200 years old at the time, suggesting that the Anglo Saxons considered swords valuable beyond their use as a tool, imbuing them with the legacies of their wielders.
If Arthur was a celebrated figure of the early 6th century, it is reasonable to argue that he was – or certainly became through his deeds – a man of great means. Despite the Historia’s assertion that Arthur the soldier was outranked by many of the men he commanded, his feats were unlikely to have gone unrewarded. If Arthur the Soldier carried a sword at all, this alone would have raised his status in the eyes of his comrades.
∴ A Kingly Ring ∴
6th century ring sword found in Buckland, Kent. British Museum 1963 1108.751. Image courtesy of the British Museum creative commons.
Hilts of the 6th Century and beyond were typically made up of three parts: a lower lenticular guard, which sat in the place of later crossguards; the grip which was usually made of wood or horn; and the upper guard. This latter took the form of a wide pommel, extending often to the width of the lower guard – typically between 7-9cm. Combined, the guards would provide protection to both sides of the hand, sandwiching the fingers along a relatively short grip.
Though there is little extant evidence of of early Anglo Saxon grips (due to the organic material from which they were most often made) one of the earliest identified forms shares characteristics with the grips of Roman spathae. This can be seen on finds such as the Cumberland Hilt, housed in the British Museum. The Cumerland Hilt’s horn grip is carved in an oval section, with three deep ribs creating space for the fingers to grip. If Arthur the soldier served under the Romano-Britannic commander Ambrosius Aurelianus, it is not too great a stretch to imagine this Roman styling to his sword.
The most striking extant finds feature composite upper guards of metal and organic material – most of which has been lost to time and erosion. These feature a lenticular metal plate to the base, a central piece made from wood or horn, and often a decorative top cap of precious metal. These would be pinned or riveted together at either end of the lenticular shape.The most common top cap variants took the form of Oakeshott’s Type D or “cocked hat” pommel.
The most widely recognised example of this setup must be the Sutton Hoo sword. This remarkable find has been dated to the sixth century, and features a broad blade of almost 6cm across, and a gold filigree cocked hat pommel inlaid with garnet and adorned with beaded wire. This degree of fine adornment, and the sword’s inclusion in the Sutton Hoo ship burial, suggest that this was the sword of a king or great leader – and perhaps an ideal pattern to use as a basis for a contemporary Excalibur.
A particular feature of some late 6th-century sword hilts was the decorative loop set to one side of the “cocked hat”, often found with a free ring passing through it. In many extant finds, both of these rings are inlaid with decoration. This feature can be seen on a number of finds from Kent, the most complete being the Buckland sword sword housed in the British Museum.
There are a variety of scholarly arguments as to the purpose of this ring. Two of these are practical in nature: that the ring offered a hitching point for a lanyard, either to keep the wielder from becoming disarmed, or to stop the sword from being drawn in haste or passion. Some evidence for the former comes from Old Icelandic accounts, such as Egil’s saga in which “there was a strap on his hilt which he pulled over his hand to let the sword hang there.”
Rosemary Cramp argues for the latter, suggesting that the translation of the word hring-mæel in Beowulf as “ringed-hilt” “would imply that the hilt was in some way attached to a belt, and not just that the belt was fixed in the more normal way to the sheath”. She brings to mind the Snartemo sword, which features a ring not on the cocked hat of the upper guard, but on the metal base of the lower guard – an ideal position for binding it into the sheath itself.
Hilda Ellis Davidson dismisses these theories on the basis of the relative lack of examples of ring swords. She argues that “if this were the purpose of the ring it seems strange that there are so few surviving examples… since the ring knob… would not be a convenient substitute”. She refers here to later finds with a “faux” ring fitting, in which both loops are stationary and made from a single solid piece of metal. The existence of these suggests that the form of the ring was more important than the function.
Detail of the ring pommel found in Buckland, Kent. British Museum 1963 1108.751. Image courtesy of the British Museum creative commons.
In this case, it is worth considering the social and ritual significance of rings in Anglo Saxon society. A great many works of the time eulogise great lords as beag-gifa or “ring givers”, implying that rings were given by lords to their fighters or allies as a mark of troth. This certainly holds true in Medieval Icelandic literature, with warrior poets traveling from hall to hall telling tales in return for arm rings as a mark of favour. In many cases, the generosity and wealth of a lord would be measured by the number of rings he gifted his thanes, with Odin taking first place thanks to his possession of a gold ring which drips infinite new gold rings. The tradition was carried through to Anglo Saxon culture, as Beowulf states that King Hrothgar “doled out rings and torques at the table”.
Davidson draws parallels between such accounts with those of warriors swearing their allegiance on the hilts of swords: “It is stated in early Norwegian law that the hilt of the king’s sword had to be presented to the man who entered his service, and that as the follower swore the oath… he had to touch the hilt of the royal sword”. The combination of traditions suggests that attaching an oath-ring to the hilt of an oath-sword would be doubly significant and symbolically potent. A ring-hilted sword may be an indication that the bearer has sworn, or received, an oath of fealty.
Intriguingly, no ring swords have been found dating into the 7th Century, after Christianity became widespread in the British Isles. The fact that Beowulf, which was written in the late 10th century but harks back to the 6th, uses the term hring-mæl could suggest that the pre-Christian tradition was remembered through tales passed down. The word, meaning “ring-adorned”, is used with reference to the sword Beowulf finds in Grendel’s mother’s lair. The sword is also described as “a victory-eager blade”, “the choicest of weapons”, and “the work of wonder-smiths”. If this translation is to be accepted, it implies not only that the Beowulf poet was aware of the pre-Christian tradition of ring-swords, but that being “ring-adorned” was a mark of a sword’s value, both in terms of material riches and its lasting legacy.
Underwood offers an alternative translation of the phrase as “ring-decoration” and suggests that it instead refers to the patterning on the blade from finessed pattern-welding. He compares the kenning to “the phrase fyrmælum fag, ‘gleaming with the marks of the fire’” which he also considers a reference to the welded manufacture of the blade.
In either case, it’s clear that this “choicest of weapons” was made sparing no expense, and that it is worthy of a great wielder. Given Beowulf’s own place as a hero of English legend, it seems not impossible that Arthur – a hero who can be traced back to the same period Beowulf is set in – may have wielded a sword of similar renown. In imagining the historical Excalibur as a pattern-welded sword with an elaborate ring-adorned hilt and a Romanesque ridged grip, we highlight some of the earliest facts we’re given about this legendary figure: that he was a Sixth-century warrior of high renown, who may have served under a Romano-Britonnic leader.
∴ A Religious Relic ∴
Decorated upper guard of the Abingdon Sword. Image courtesy of Wikimedia creative commons.
While the allusions in Beowulf may suggest that the memory of the ring sword lived on beyond its material demise, it is possible that the 9th and 10th century authors of the Historia Brittonum and the Annales Cambriae were imagining a sword of their own era in the hero of Badon’s hand.
The Abingdon Sword is a prime example of a late 9th century sword, in many ways similar to the swords of earlier centuries. While most of the blade is missing, its width and taper seem not dissimilar to that of 6th century swords, with the significant difference being the inclusion of a fuller. This feature was far more common to later Anglo-Saxon swords than to earlier variants.
A more symbolic difference can be seen in the ornamentation of the upper and lower guards. Rather than a flat lenticular disc, the Abingdon sword features a downturned rectangular-section crossguard with cast and inlaid silver mounts. The base of the upper guard mirrors this, turning upward toward the cocked hat pommel cap. Both are heavily ornamented, with the silver base plate bearing the symbols of the four evangelists. This imagery supplants the pre-Christian symbolism of the ring with a new, Biblical inspiration.
As Christianity did not truly take hold across England until St. Augustine’s mission in the 8th century, it is quite possible that the Historia Brittonum’s assertion that Arthur “bore the image of the Holy Virgin, mother of God, upon his shoulders” was an embellishment by the author. That historical Arthur was himself a Christian is not out of the question, given the potential link to Ambrosis Aurelianus at Badon. However, it’s important to not the Historia’s author, Nennius, was a monk, and therefore likely to add a Christian bias to his tales of heroic deeds. In fact, as with many early Christian chronicles, a theme emerges throughout the Historia that Briton leaders who achieved victory over the Saxons were only able to do so with God’s help.
Either way, 9th Century Christian writers certainly wished to present Arthur as one of their own. In such a case, they may well have imagined his flashing blade as being bedecked with intricate silver inlay and Biblical imagery, much like that of the Abingdon sword.
Robert Huntingdon Fletcher points out that “the image of the Holy Virgin, mother of God, upon his shoulders” is likely a misspelling or mistranslation of the Middle Welsh for shoulder (ysgwydd) and shield (ysgwyd), and that Arthur actually bore the image of the Virgin on his shield. Given evidence of religious decoration in arms and armour at Nennius’ time of writing, this seems a far more likely explanation. We can certainly imagine that the sort of man who would charge into battle with a shield bearing the image of the Virgin Mary would also favour a sword decorated with religious motifs.
∴ Into The Mists ∴
The Sutton Hoo sword. British Museum 1939 1010.95. Image courtesy of the British Museum creative commons.
Of course, the historicity of all these documents, and the existence of Arthur himself, are still matters of scholarly debate. Archaeologist J.N.L. Myres famously observed that “no figure on the borderline of history and mythology has wasted more of the historian’s time” than Arthur. He goes on to suggest that “if we add anything to the bare statement that Arthur may have lived and fought the Saxons, we pass at once from history to romance.”
Yet others like me find that the folk hero’s position on that borderline is, in itself, a compelling reason to keep exploring him. After all, isn’t the place between reality and make-believe where magic lies? Perhaps to tie Arthur down too explicitly to a historical figure would be to remove the very uncertainty that makes him most fascinating. As long as we don’t know for certain whether or not there was an Arthur, a whimsical part of us can go on asking whether or not there were wizards, or fae folk, or magic swords.
So then, is it too contradictory to ask what his legendary sword truly looked like? This first exploration has offered as close a glimpse as we may get of a historical Excalibur. Perhaps from this point the greater quest is to see the sword as a mirror for English literature’s changing concepts of valour and nobility, from the dawn of writing itself to our own no-less-glory-obsessed era.
In the next chapter of my search for Excalibur, I will be exploring Arthur’s Welsh origins and the writings of Geoffrey of Monmouth, in which our hero grows from a footnote in the history books into a crowned king with adventures of his own – and a named sword.
∴ References ∴
 Hugh Williams ed. (1899) Gildas, De Excidio Britanniae. Honourable Society of Cymmrodorion, p. 63.
 Williams, p. 61.
 Green, Thomas (2007) Concepts of Arthur. Stroud: Tempus, p.31.
 Hugh Williams ed. (1899) Two Lives of Gildas by a Monk of Ruys and Caradoc of Llancarfan. Cymmrodorion Record Series, 1899.
 R. A. B. Mynors, R. M. Thomson, and M. Winterbottom eds. (1998) Oxford Medieval Texts: William of Malmesbury: Gesta Regum Anglorum, Vol. 1. Oxford: Oxford University Press, p. 27.
 J. A. Giles ed. (2006) Nennius, History of the Britons. Project Gutenburg. pp. 50
 Giles, pp.50
 Richard Underwood (1999), Anglo Saxon Weapons and Warfare. Stroud: Tempus, p.39.
 James Ingram ed. (1912) The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. London: Everyman Press.
 A.M. Sellar ed. (1907) Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of Britain. London: George Bell and Sons. Gutenberg Press. p.32
 Ewart Oakeshott (1991) Records of the Medieval Sword. Woodbridge: The Boydell Press. p.23
When your passion becomes your profession, drawing the line between work and play gets increasingly hard. Take fencing events, for example. As artisans we’re keen to see our creations in action, meet our clients in person, and get some new ones on the books. As fencers, however, we can’t resist the opportunity to challenge ourselves, improve our own fencing, and cross blades with our international friends.
Taking our growing orders list into account, we’ve appeared at relatively few events this year. There was, however, one event that we couldn’t possibly pass up – our annual pilgrimage to Fort St Angelo in Malta, where the Malta Historical Fencing Association hold a long weekend of workshops, lectures, friendly sparring and camaraderie.
The MHFA kindly allowed us to run a stall this year, where attendees could handle the Angelo Broadsword, as well as purchase gorgets, frogs and baldrics. Thanks to the team’s laid-back professionalism, we were also able to spend plenty of time atop the fortress, fighting our friends in truly unforgettable surroundings.
∴ A Holiday with Benefits ∴
While we were careful not to talk shop all weekend, the trip yielded business gems aplenty. For starters, we were reunited with swords and blades from across our two-year history, and heard many a tale of what they’d achieved. This was a wonderful insight into our swords’ stories beyond the workshop, and a great assurance as to the handling and durability we pride ourselves on.
We also enjoyed putting my new range of sword belts, frogs and baldrics through their paces, swanning up and down Fort St Angelo’s impressive flights of stairs with our swords at our sides. Not only did we feel like epic heroes of old, we also benefitted from free hands (which were soon filled with extra swords). Our stock swiftly sold out, but thanks to much positive feedback, I’m preparing to make baldrics the new black in 2020.
While fencing martial artists from around the world was a wonderful primer in the styles and treatises that are currently trending, the real R&D was done after sundown, in a cobbled street outside the appropriately named Pub, with a local beer in hand. Here, international instructors candidly discussed what’s new, what they’d like to see more of, and which weapons are on their wishlists. Our work may well be wreathed in history, but it’s no less exciting to look to the future stay get ahead of the game.
∴ A Place of Pilgrimage ∴
A sword maker’s trip to Malta would hardly be complete without a visit to the Oratory of St Joseph, home to all manner of historical ephemera – the prize of which is undoubtably the De Valette sidesword. Alleged to be the same sword that Grandmaster Jean Parisot de Valette laid down on the altar at the end of the Great Siege, it is of great symbolic importance to Malta – and not least to the Malta Historical Fencing Association.
With a replica of the sword on our books, we thought it only right to pay our respects. We were greeted by a contagiously enthusiastic guide, and ushered through to the side chapel where the sword resides. Seeing such a significant piece of history in person is always disquieting – particularly noting the notches in the blade, made in battle centuries ago. We were also taken by how slender the bars of the hilt are – a detail which we’re keen to recreate in high carbon steel.
∴ Until Next Time ∴
Most poignantly for us, the MHFA event is a living reminder of what our work’s all about. We discovered the world of historical fencing as keen amateurs, heads swimming with storybook visions of heroes, castles and legendary blades. Thanks to Chris’s hard work and determination, that world soon became our everyday, along with the ins and outs of running a small business.
Once a year in Malta, however, we step back into the dream – the historic fortified citadel, the clash of a hundred blades, the larger than life characters, the bonds of brotherhood. To see the part we play in weaving that world is an unfathomable reward, and one that inspires us every year to forge on and constantly improve our craft.
We’d like to extend a huge thank you to the MHFA team for their hard work every year, and to every fencer we fought with, learned from, and shared a Cisk with. We’ll be back!