The graves of the queens

Govan cross-slab

Early medieval cross-slab at Govan, re-used in 1723. From Stirling-Maxwell’s Sculptured Stones in the Kirkyard of Govan (1899).


Yesterday on Heart Of The Kingdom I published a post which asked, and attempted to answer, a question about royal tombs: How many queens of Strathclyde are buried at Govan?

This isn’t a question that can be answered by browsing a book or searching online. No information – neither historical nor archaeological – can currently give a definitive answer. The best we can hope for is to make a rough guess, and this is what I’ve done in my blogpost.

Take a look and see if you agree with my reasoning. Comments are always welcome, either here or at the blogpost itself.

Heart Of The Kingdom: Female royal burials at Govan

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The lively maiden of Dumbarton

Clyde Rock & Dumbarton Castle

Clyde Rock, Dumbarton (from ‘Souvenir of Scotland’, 1892)


A number of medieval Welsh manuscripts contain information relating to the Cumbri or North Britons, the native Celtic people of Northern England and Southern Scotland. One of these is ‘Peniarth 47′, written in the 15th century and preserved at the National Library of Wales. It contains a collection of ‘triads’ – brief texts in which three items from the medieval storytelling tradition are grouped under a common theme. Triads were used by the bards of Wales as a kind of subject index to a huge repertoire of poems and stories originally retained in their own memories.

Some triads listed famous events, such as ‘Three Futile Battles of the Island of Britain’. Others listed military forces such as ‘Three Faithful Warbands’ or renowned individuals such as ‘Three Chieftains of Arthur’s Court’. One triad refers to a trio of notable young women:

‘Three Lively Maidens of the Island of Britain’
Angharad Ton Velen, daughter of Rhydderch Hael,
and Afan, daughter of Meic Thick-Hair,
and Perwyr, daughter of Rhun of Great Wealth.

Afan’s father Meic (sometimes spelled ‘Maig’) was reputedly a 6th-century ruler of Powys, a part of Wales bordering the territory of the Anglo-Saxons or English. Not much is known about him, although the district of Meigen in Powys might preserve his name.

Perwyr’s father Rhun is identified in Welsh tradition as a prince of the North Britons and as a son of the famous warrior-king Urien Rheged (active c.580). Contrary to popular belief, the precise location of Rheged is unknown. It is no more than a modern guess that the name refers to a kingdom rather than to a smaller territorial unit such as a river-valley or group of estates.

One of Urien’s contemporaries among the North Britons was Rhydderch, king of Alt Clut, whose epithet Hael means ‘Generous’. Alt Clut (‘Rock of Clyde’) is an old Welsh and North British name for the imposing, twin-peaked volcanic ‘plug’ where Dumbarton Castle stands today. Rhydderch reigned in the late 6th and early 7th centuries and is one of the most recognizable figures in medieval Welsh literature, a key player in the so-called North British Heroic Age. Peering behind his literary fame among later Welsh bards we are probably seeing a powerful king of the early medieval period, a competent warlord who launched plundering raids against his neighbours. His adversaries apparently included Anglo-Saxons, Scots and fellow-Britons. Among his network of high-level contacts were Saint Columba of Iona and, less certainly, Saint Kentigern of Glasgow. In later Welsh folklore Rhydderch emerges as an oppressor of Merlin during the latter’s time as a ‘Wild Man’ in the forest.

According to the triad of the Three Lively Maidens, Rhydderch had a daughter Angharad. Although we know very little about her, we cannot assume she was nothing more than a literary invention. It is entirely possible that she was a real princess of Dumbarton, a genuine historical figure like her father. Her epithet Ton Velen (‘Yellow Skin’ or ‘Yellow Wave’) denotes a defining physical characteristic and must have originated in a poem or story in which she featured. This tale, although now lost, was presumably well-known among the bards of medieval Wales and may have been circulating for a long time before it got ‘catalogued’ in the triad.

Some of the earliest and most famous examples of Welsh poetry and saga originated in what the bards called Yr Hen Ogledd, ‘The Old North’, the land of Urien Rheged and Rhydderch Hael. It is possible that the poem or tale featuring Angharad Ton Velen originated in this region rather than in Wales, either to praise her while she lived or as an elegy following her death. Such a tribute may have been composed by a bard at the royal court of Alt Clut, perhaps in the years around 600.

In the absence of additional information about Angharad we can do no more than sketch a hazy picture of her life.

Her name means ‘much loved’ and is pronounced ‘Ann-Harrad’ (stressed on the second syllable). Traditions of uncertain reliability, preserved at Glasgow Cathedral in the twelfth century, identify Rhydderch Hael’s wife as Languoreth, Queen of Alt Clut. This lady, who may have been a native of the Hamilton area, was presumably Angharad’s mother. The same traditions mention a son of Rhydderch called Constantine, who gave up the secular life to become a priest. He and Angharad are the only offspring credited to Rhydderch and, although neither is historically secure, they are not necessarily fictional. Constantine is the namesake of the mysterious saint commemorated in the dedication of the old parish church at Govan, 12 miles east of Dumbarton, and the two are perhaps one and the same.

Let us assume, for the moment, that Angharad existed. A tentative chronological guess would place her birth in the period 570-590. As a princess of Alt Clut she would have been a Christian like her father (and, no doubt, her mother too). During her early years, until she was old enough to marry, her time would have been divided between the old fortress on the summit of Clyde Rock and other royal residences visited by her father’s entourage. Displays of wealth and status were an important part of early medieval kingship and a royal daughter was expected to play her part. We can imagine Angharad wearing jewellery of gold and silver, and clothes woven from the finest fabrics. In her father’s feasting hall she would have eaten roast meat served in expensive bowls manufactured in France. The wine in her drinking-cup would have been imported from the Mediterranean lands. Servants and slaves would have been ever-present throughout her entire life.

Later Welsh bards regarded Angharad as a ‘lively maiden’ (whatever that means). A particular characteristic of her physical appearance was Ton Velen, for which we may envisage either a striking mane of curly blonde hair (‘Yellow Wave’) or an unusually sallow complexion (‘Yellow Skin’). The late Rachel Bromwich, to whom we owe a huge debt of gratitude for her magisterial study of the Welsh triads, interpreted Ton Velen as ‘Yellow (or tawny) Wave’, noting that ‘the reference may be to the girl’s hair’. This is reminiscent of the Gaelic word buide, which also means ‘yellow’, borne as an epithet by the Dál Riatan king Eochaid Buide (died 629) a son of Áedán mac Gabráin. Eochaid evidently received the epithet very early in life, for we find it being used by Columba when he greeted Áedán’s sons at a time when Eochaid was a small child. A number of sources suggest that Áedán fought at least one major battle against Angharad’s father Rhydderch.

Like Angharad, Eochaid is usually assumed to have had ‘yellow’ (i.e. blond) hair, but alternative interpretations of buide are possible. Eochaid and Angharad seem to have belonged to the same generation, and either or both may have had strikingly fair hair or, if ‘yellow’ is a reference to complexion, unusually sallow skin.

If Angharad survived the many perils of childhood to become a teenager she would probably have had little say in her future when the time came to choose a husband. As the daughter of a powerful king she was not only a lady of high status and considerable wealth but also a useful political commodity. Marriage to a prince of a foreign kingdom seems a likely scenario, the wedding perhaps putting a formal seal on a newly forged political alliance. Such a marriage would have taken the ‘lively maiden’ away from her lofty home on the Rock of Clyde, perhaps to a strange new land whose speech and customs she found totally unfamiliar.

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Notes & References

In modern Britain, the most well-known bearer of the name Angharad was the Welsh actress Angharad Rees (1944-2012), who starred in the popular 1970s TV series Poldark.

More pronunciations of Welsh (and North British) personal names:
Rhydderch – ‘Hrutherkh’
Rhun – ‘Rhinn’
Urien – ‘Irri-yen’

Five years ago, Andrew Breeze suggested that ‘Languoreth’ might be an error for ‘Iunguoret’ (or ‘Unwared’ in Modern Welsh).
[See his article 'Telleyr, Anguen, Gulath, and the Life of St Kentigern' Scottish Language 27 (2008), 71-80.]

Rachel Bromwich (ed. & transl.), Trioedd Ynys Prydein: The Welsh Triads. 2nd edition* (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1978).
The triad of the Three Lively Maidens appears on page 199 as ‘Triad 79′.
Professor Bromwich briefly discussed Angharad Ton Velen in the extensive ‘Notes to personal names’ (at page 270).
* I haven’t consulted the 3rd edition for this blogpost.

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This post is part of the Kingdom of Strathclyde series:

Kingdom of Strathclyde

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The son of the king of the Cumbrians

Govan hogback

Viking Age hogback tombstone at Govan (Photo © B Keeling)


A new post at my Govan blog deals with a series of events around the middle of the 11th century – a fairly mysterious period in Scottish history – and with a shadowy figure described as ‘the son of the king of the Cumbrians’. It also mentions various other people who were major players in the political events of the time: King Cnut (‘Canute’), King Edward (‘The Confessor’), Macbethad (‘Macbeth’) and Earl Siward of Northumbria. The main purpose of the blogpost is to seek an answer to a question: Did a man from Govan become king of Scotland in AD 1054?

Heart of the Kingdom: A Govanite on the Scottish throne

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On the trail of Arthur

Alt Clut Dumbarton

Dumbarton Rock: an Arthurian site? (Photo © B Keeling)


It’s just over a year since my blogpost Is King Arthur Buried In Scotland? which looked at a theory (proposed by Damian Bullen) that the Yarrow Stone near Selkirk marked Arthur’s grave.

The same blogpost also mentioned another theory, set out by Simon Stirling in his book The King Arthur Conspiracy, that Arthur came from Dál Riata.

Well, we now have an additional theory to consider, in the shape of On The Trail Of King Arthur, a book by Robin Crichton which sets out the case for Arthur being a warlord from Strathclyde. As someone who has more than a passing interest in the early history of Clydesdale, I’ll be grabbing a copy of Crichton’s book before too long. When I do, I’ll write about it here at Senchus (and maybe also at Heart Of The Kingdom). What has caught my attention in the meantime are some recent newspaper reports about an Arthurian tourist trail being planned for Scotland, using sites pinpointed in Crichton’s book.

I’m not sure what to make of this, but it’s an interesting development.
Anything that promotes wider interest in early Scottish history is surely a Good Thing. And if the trail attracts more tourists, especially to areas off the beaten track, then that’s a Good Thing too.

The trouble is, there isn’t any proof that the ‘real’ Arthur (if he existed) had any connection with Strathclyde. The Arthur of folklore, on the other hand, has enough Scottish connections to make a fascinating itinerary for tourists. This makes me wonder to what extent the trail will distinguish between historical/archaeological evidence and the various legends that associate Arthur with Scotland.

Take a look at these two newspaper articles…

The Herald: On the trail of King Arthur
Lennox Herald: Arthur trail route to boost tourism

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I am grateful to Steve Holden for bringing this item to my attention.

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Romancing the Govan Stones

Are you interested in learning about the fascinating collection of early medieval sculpture at Govan? Do you want to hear about the period when Govan was the royal capital of the kings of Strathclyde?

Next Tuesday, 22 January, at the Pearce Institute in Govan, Professor Stephen Driscoll of the University of Glasgow will be giving a talk entitled Romancing the Govan Stones: Archaeological Explorations of an Ancient British Capital.

Further details of this event can be found at Heart Of The Kingdom.

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The Fairlie Stone

The Fairlie Stone

Copyright © B Keeling


My latest post at Heart Of The Kingdom describes a carved stone from Fairlie in North Ayrshire, an example of early medieval sculpture from the kingdom of Strathclyde. It dates from the 10th/11th century and is quite well-preserved. Anyone who likes Pictish sculpture will see familiar themes in the carvings on this stone – even though it is a long way from the heartlands of the Picts. Its sculptor was a craftsman of the ‘Govan School’ of stonecarving and probably a Briton of the Clyde.

The Fairlie Stone

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The Barochan Cross

The Barochan Cross
Today at Heart of the Kingdom, my blog about early medieval Govan, I uploaded a detailed study of the Barochan Cross, one of the most impressive monuments to survive from the ancient kingdom of Strathclyde.

The carvings on the cross have much in common with Pictish sculpture and, indeed, the Clyde craftsmen undoubtedly borrowed styles and techniques from other lands. Hence, my new blogpost makes reference to the Pictish stone in Aberlemno kirkyard and includes a close-up of part of the famous battle-scene on the back.

Among the ‘see also’ info at the end of the post is a link to a video of the Barochan Cross which gives a good idea of what an impressive monument it really is.

The Barochan Cross at Heart of the Kingdom

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Water Row

Govan Riverside by Tom Manley - click to enlarge
Although this post is about Govan I’m uploading it here rather than at Heart of the Kingdom, chiefly because Senchus reaches a wider readership.

Many of you will already be aware that Govan was once the principal centre of power or ‘royal capital’ of the kingdom of Strathclyde. Some of you may have visited the place in recent years, perhaps to view the impressive collection of early medieval sculpture in the old parish church. If so, you’ll be familiar with the modern townscape: the main street running past the former Fairfields shipyard to the shopping centre at Govan Cross; the impressive Victorian architecture of the Pearce Institute; the green oasis of Elder Park. You might even have parked your car on the open ground between Govan Cross and the Clyde, flanked on one side by a housing estate and on the other by a little lane called Water Row which ends abruptly at the river.

Water Row, Govan

Water Row, Govan (© Tim Clarkson)


Although Water Row looks fairly unremarkable today, it runs over one of the most historically significant spaces in Scotland. Deep beneath the cobblestone surface lies the intersection of two ancient routeways that once traversed this ground. From the one side came the processional path of the kings of Strathclyde, linking their principal church and cemetery to a huge ceremonial mound known in later times as the Doomster Hill. From the other came an even older route, its origins lost in antiquity, which for uncounted centuries guided travellers to an important ford on the Clyde. Its alignment is still followed today by Water Row, a name originally given to a group of cottages – demolished long ago – that once flanked this key approach to the river.

In the early nineteenth century, 700 years after the end of the kingdom of Strathclyde, the Industrial Revolution turned the village of Govan into a bustling town. Rapid expansion led to the demolition of Doomster Hill but Water Row retained its importance, its course now leading to a ferry that replaced the ancient ford. A dye-works, the first industrial complex in Govan, rose up on the eastern flank of the old lane. This was eventually absorbed by the first of the shipyards that were soon to make the town world-famous as a major centre of shipbuilding.

With such a richly layered heritage the area comprising Water Row and its margins is clearly a zone of considerable historical and archaeological importance. This is why a campaign has arisen against plans by Glasgow City Council to cover the old lane in tarmac and to turn the adjacent open ground – where once lay the massive outer ditch of the Doomster Hill – into a car park. The campaign started at the beginning of May, in the aftermath of an event celebrating renowned Scottish artist George Wyllie (1921-2012). Things have moved on since then, and the campaign now has its own website and Twitter account. In the past few weeks, the campaign’s public profile has risen considerably, with media coverage via the architectural journal Urban Realm and the Evening Times and Sunday Post newspapers. Campaigners have raised their concerns with the City Council and have come forward with alternative ideas about how the site could be developed.

With the car park still scheduled to go ahead, and with a layer of tarmac due to be laid over Water Row very soon, time seems to be running out for this heritage-rich piece of land. Campaigners fear the resurfacing will seal the layers of accumulated history, hiding them for the foreseeable future and preventing investigation by archaeologists. Moreover, a car park will bring little direct benefit to the people of Govan, who could instead make use of the space for something community-based and tangible.

The article in the Sunday Post spoke of ‘the end of the line for historic Water Row’ but the campaign isn’t over yet and – as the saying goes – where there’s life there’s hope. So I encourage everyone who reads this blogpost to visit the campaign website and have a look around. Among various items of interest are a summary of what the campaign is seeking to achieve, together with innovative proposals for alternative use of the land (drawn up by architects Ann Nisbet and Andy McAvoy). Elsewhere on the website you’ll see a set of old illustrations of Water Row and an article by me on the long-vanished Doomster Hill.

Those of you who are on Twitter can keep in touch with the campaign via the Water Row account.

The article in Urban Realm was written by Tom Manley who also designed an excellent postcard which he distributed at the recent Big Launch, a special event held on 20th July to unveil artworks by Matt Baker and ts Beall along Govan Riverside next to Water Row. The image on the front of these cards appears at the top of this blogpost. Here’s the text on the back:

Designed by Tom Manley

(click on image to enlarge)

For a broad overview of the history of Govan, from the period of the kings of Strathclyde through the shipbuilding age to the post-industrial era, see the illustrated ‘timeline’ at the Govan Stones website or view it as a photostream on Flickr.

[I am grateful to Tom Manley for letting me use his postcard images, and to Rosalind Morrison at the Sunday Post for giving permission to reproduce the article from 15th July]

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New website for carved stones

Over at my other blog Heart Of The Kingdom I’ve just posted news of a recently launched website about the carved stones at Govan.

This superb collection of early medieval sculpture is a must-see. The famous Sarcophagus and the hogback tombstones alone would make a visit worthwhile, but there are 25 other stones as well. Their home in the old parish church at Govan is an easy place to get to if you’re ever in the Glasgow area with an hour or two to spare.

The new website is part of a major project aimed at improving how the stones are displayed and interpreted. It can be found via a link at my blogpost. Alternatively, go there directly by clicking the image below.

The Govan Stones website

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