Whenever a monarch inherits the crown, they can choose their 'regnal name' - the name under which they will be known while on the throne. Usually, it will be one of their given forenames, but not necessarily the first. King George VI - Elizabeth II's father - was actually called Albert Frederick Arthur George but chose George. Edward VII, who took the throne after his mother Victoria died, was also an Albert - Albert Edward - but chose the latter name (why doesn't anyone want to be King Albert?). And Queen Victoria herself was actually called Alexandrina Victoria.
Which brings us back to Charles III, who had the choice of either Charles, Philip, Arthur, or George.
Wouldn't it have been grand if he'd chosen Arthur?
But would he have been King Arthur II or King Arthur the first?
That's a tricky one to answer.
'Gallos', the statue popularly called 'The King Arthur Statue' at Tintagel by Rubin Eynon. The site's owner, English Heritage, states that it is not meant to represent a single person but reflects the general history of the site, which is likely to have been a summer residence for the kings of Dumnonia.
As much as we'd all love King Arthur to have been a real historical figure, there's very little proof that he existed. If he did, he would most likely have been the leader of a British Celtic tribe, or a collection of tribes, that fought conquest by the Saxons in the late 5th and early 6th centuries. However, our first written records of his exploits don't appear until 300 years later in the Historia Brittonum, a 9th-century Latin history attributed to a Welsh cleric called Nennius. It lists twelve battles that he supposedly fought, culminating in the Battle of Badon, during which Arthur is said to have single-handedly killed 960 men. However, the reliability of the Historia is very debatable as it gets many details wrong about events that are also recorded in other, more accurate historical accounts.
For a time, supporters of Nennius did quote the fact that the 10th-century Annales Cambriae, a Welsh history of Britain also mentions the Battle of Badon (and dates it as 516–518CE) and the Battle of Camlann, in which Arthur and Medraut (Mordred) were both killed (dated to 537–539CE). However, research has revealed that the Annales Cambriae were not written independently. They were based on a chronicle begun in the late 8th century, which does suggest the influence of Nennius.
There is so little evidence, in fact, that most historical scholars do not include Arthur in the list of British kings. The archaeologist Nowell Myres is on record as saying. 'No figure on the borderline of history and mythology has wasted more of the historian's time.' And historian David Dumville says, 'I think we can dispose of him quite briefly. He owes his place in our history books to a 'no smoke without fire' school of thought ... The fact of the matter is that there is no historical evidence about Arthur; we must reject him from our histories and, above all, from the titles of our books.'
A crop from Edward Burne-Jones' epic painting 'The last sleep of Arthur' (1898).
The version of Arthur that we all know today owes its existence to Geoffrey of Monmouth's Historia Regum Britanniae. In Geoffrey's fanciful 'history' - completed sometime around 1138 and over 600 years after the man may have existed. He incorporates Arthur's father Uther Pendragon, and the story of Arthur's conception, in which Uther, disguised as his enemy Gorlois by Merlin's magic, sleeps with Gorlois's wife Igerna (Igraine) at Tintagel. On Uther's death, the fifteen-year-old Arthur succeeds him as King of Britain and fights a series of battles, similar to those in the Historia Brittonum, culminating in the Battle of Bath. He then defeats the Picts and Scots before creating an Arthurian empire through his conquests of Ireland, Iceland and the Orkney Islands. After twelve years of peace, Arthur sets out to expand his empire once more, taking control of Norway, Denmark and Gaul (France). Gaul is still held by the Roman Empire when it is conquered, and Arthur's victory leads to a further confrontation with Rome. Arthur and his warriors, including Kaius (Kay), Beduerus (Bedivere) and Gualguanus (Gawain), defeat the Roman emperor Lucius Tiberius in Gaul but, as he prepares to march on Rome, Arthur hears that his nephew Modredus (Mordred) — whom he had left in charge of Britain — has married his wife Guenhuuara (Guinevere) and seized the throne. Arthur returns to Britain and defeats and kills Modredus on the river Camblam in Cornwall, but he is mortally wounded. He hands the crown to his kinsman Constantine and is taken to the isle of Avalon to be healed of his wounds, never to be seen again.
And, ever since Geoffrey, further elements have been added as the story has been embellished and retold thousands of times.
And then came Thomas Malory's 15th century epic, Le Morte d'Arthur, in which all of the various strands of the Arthurian legend were pulled together into the version we know today. The fact that this became one of the earliest printed books in England, published by William Caxton in 1485, undoubtedly helped to popularise the story and to anchor it in Britain's pseudo-history. It's since inspired everything from TV series to Hollywood films, Monty Python spoofs and a curiously hip Australian cartoon series that I thoroughly enjoyed as a boy in the late 1960s.
That's a simplified version of what has been a very long and complex history of Arthur appearing in British literature. But literature is all we have. There's no real documentary or archaeological evidence for his existence. And Tintagel, while clearly the ruins of an ancient castle, is neither Camelot nor the home of Gorlois. It was built on the site by Richard, 1st Earl of Cornwall, in the 13th century, some 800 years after Arthur might have been around.
Being a Cornishman I knew the Arthurian stories well. As a child I was told that the Lady of the Lake gave Excalibur to Arthur at Dozmary Pool on Bodmin Moor and that Tintagel was the site of Camelot. And I've been to Tintagel many, many times. Here are a few photos I took the last time I went in 2002.
That was 20 years ago but I've had no desire to go back. The commercialisation of the place is almost stifling and there are only so many 'Excaliburgers' you can be offered in local hostelries before the novelty pales. And I'll leave tourist attractions like 'The Great Hall' - which displays a bunch of props as historical objects - to the gullible, thanks. The Great Hall appeals to the same kinds of people that queue to get into 221b Baker Street in London to visit the home of the entirely fictitious Sherlock Holmes.
If King Charles III had chosen Arthur as his regnal name, he'd have simply been called King Arthur, firstly because he would have been the first historical Arthur, and secondly because we only call someone 'the first' after a second monarch of the same name takes the throne.
But, in terms of PR, it might have been a good move. After all, there is a legend that Arthur will make a messianic return from the Vale of Avalon in times of Britain's greatest peril. I'm sure that Charles would love to be considered as some kind of returning hero come to save us all.
However, it didn't happen.
Which is a shame, as I'd dearly have liked to be be living in the Arthurian Age.
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