ABSTRACT

A WATERY WARRIOR QUEEN: CELTIC ANALOGUES AND BOUDICCA AS INFLUENCES ON NENIVE IN LE MORTE DARTHUR

The Lady of the Lake in Arthurian legend has become more popular in recent scholarship, but still lacks a substantial amount of critical analysis of potential influential figures. Particularly, Sir Thomas Malory’s chief Lady of the Lake Nenive is dismissed as a fractured character from Morgan le Fay’s origins, or a chivalrous character to counterbalance Morgan’s evil presence in the text. Research into druidism, certain motifs within Arthurian legend as a whole, and Celtic/European mythological or divine figures reveals many points of connection to Nenive’s characterization. One historical queen, however, permeates all these influences, as well as Nenive’s actions and behaviors in the narrative: the Iceni warrior queen Boudicca from the first century A.D. Malory could have used Boudicca to mold his original character into a just, independent, and victorious leader, and an ally worthy of the legendary hero King Arthur.

Samantha Rose Meroney August 2016

A WATERY WARRIOR QUEEN: CELTIC ANALOGUES AND BOUDICCA AS INFLUENCES ON NENIVE IN LE MORTE DARTHUR

by Samantha Rose Meroney

A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Arts in English in the College of Arts and Humanities California State University, Fresno August 2016 APPROVED For the Department of English:

We, the undersigned, certify that the thesis of the following student meets the required standards of scholarship, format, and style of the university and the student's graduate degree program for the awarding of the master's degree.

Samantha Rose Meroney Thesis Author

Lisa Weston (Chair) English

Steve Adisasmito-Smith English

Laurel Hendrix English

For the University Graduate Committee:

Dean, Division of Graduate Studies AUTHORIZATION FOR REPRODUCTION OF MASTER’S THESIS

X I grant permission for the reproduction of this thesis in part or in its entirety without further authorization from me, on the condition that the person or agency requesting reproduction absorbs the cost and provides proper acknowledgment of authorship.

Permission to reproduce this thesis in part or in its entirety must be obtained from me.

Signature of thesis author: ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I’d like to thank all the professors I’ve met during my graduate studies for their unfailing patience and encouragement, my entire thesis committee for their invaluable insights and support, Dr. Weston in particular for listening to my ramblings over and over again and still considering this a good idea, and my fiancé Kevin for tolerating the mounds of papers and books that (still) tower over all our furniture in every room of our apartment. TABLE OF CONTENTS Page

CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION AND LITERATURE OVERVIEW ...... 1 CHAPTER 2: DRUIDISM AND THE NINE MAIDEN ISLE MOTIF IN MALORY’S ARTHURIAD ...... 22 CHAPTER 3: BOUDICCA’S PRESENCE IN NENIVE’S INFLUENCES AND CHARACTERISATION ...... 42

WORKS CITED ...... 64

CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION AND LITERATURE OVERVIEW

What little we know about Sir Thomas Malory tells us that he was writing his Arthuriad, Le Morte Darthur, during the War of the Roses, a fiercely unstable time in English history. Compiling his Arthurian tales in what we can only surmise is a medieval jail cell, Malory very clearly had a purpose behind writing not just the stories themselves, but the way in which he was writing them. As Rosalind Elizabeth Clark reminds us in a study focusing on Irish supernatural women, writers in the medieval period “…had their own literary conventions and standards and crafted with the greatest skill at their command. To reduce their creations [to historical or anthropological texts]…implies contempt for them as art” (39). Rather than reducing, this study is an attempt at expanding— specifically, exploring the “conventions and standards” of Malory’s Chief Lady of the Lake from Le Morte Darthur, Nenive. Nenive’s analogues and influences vary widely with regards to different mythological and historical origins; by surveying some of the most prominent influences, similarities appear within them all which could arguably point toward a specific figure as the defining inspiration for Malory’s unique character—that of Boudicca, the Iceni warrior queen of the Britons from the first century A.D. The Lady of the Lake has been depicted in a variety of ways throughout Arthurian texts. Tracing these varying depictions, one can almost see an evolution of this character, linking historically to respective events, figures, and cultural shifts within Celtic Europe, and dating from as far back as Ancient Greece in some instances. Whether she is one or several characters within a particular Arthurian text, the Lady of the Lake is always associated with a few specific, evident points: her water connection, her supernatural or Otherworldly orientation, and her 2 2 counter-relation to Morgan le Fay, arguably the most well-known woman figure in Arthurian legend next to Guinevere. Analyzing the character of the Lady of the Lake throughout different Arthurian texts, scholars have taken a variety of approaches, and Malory’s chief Lady Nenive gets the least amount of scholarly attention, leaving us with a lack of varied analytical opinion regarding her characterization and purpose. Malory utilized these rather common attributes and conventions, stated above, which were already associated with the Lady of the Lake, but also built upon them as well as other, lesser known influences. The result makes Nenive not just a unique depiction of this well-known character, but one who exudes confident nationalism and integrity as a victorious leader, harkening back to an historical queen who fought desperately for her people and, like Arthur, died in her attempts. Very often, analysis of Nenive alone takes the route of chivalric societal criticism within the texts, expounding how she represents a more dominant and independent woman in the courtly realms of knights and kings. Any critical look into Nenive’s supernatural aspects is very often fleeting, brief, and dismissive; after all, she clearly aligns herself with the interpretation of some sort of water- deity, what more particulars are needed? Drawing on a multitude of research, this study will attempt to show many more particulars which are, arguably, required to fully appreciate the nuanced, intricately crafted character by Sir Thomas Malory, as well as her relevant and widely varying influences. Much of the Nenive material in Le Morte Darthur appears to be entirely created by Malory himself (Holbrook 766), supporting the theory that Malory had a particular purpose in mind for this character. Amy S. Kaufman describes Nenive as “Malory’s most original creation” (56), someone whose story “arguably parallels Arthur’s own upward trajectory” (57). Indeed, the links between Nenive and Arthur show this 3 3 to be truer than initial inference would conclude—the values which Arthur represented as a figure, whether historical or mythical, kept European minds and hearts alive for centuries, inspiring hope that there was a true Celtic-British hero out there, waiting to return and liberate the country from the oppressive rule of others, whether tyrannical monarchies or the Roman empire. This visage of a true liberator for Celtic-British peoples wasn’t just a factor in the crafting of Arthur’s character, however, but also of Nenive’s; “the Romanization of the Celts…the missionizing campaign of Rome…these factors [also] bore influence upon Malory’s interpretation of the magical characters” (Choronzy 2). What Jessica A. Choronzy says here is vital to understanding Nenive’s characterization, for her influences go beyond simple water-deity associations, from goddesses and fairy brides, through war-hungry banshees, to even an historical British warrior priestess and queen. All these components express themselves in Nenive’s name, attributes, and actions throughout the narrative. It is Boudicca’s particular influence that comes forth the most in Nenive’s characterization, as Boudicca’s connections with every other influential aspect of the character shows her pervasive presence not just in Malory’s text, but in many other varying Celtic legends and myths. Amanda Marie Ewoldt tells us that medieval writers “enjoy playing games with their audience,” interlacing different themes and “hid[ing] mythical, ethical, or supernatural motifs in their work” (36-37). The audiences of these works were “expected to rely on their own cultural knowledge to understand the references and solve the riddles the author presented” (Ewoldt 37). This study accepts the theory, as Ewoldt does, that Malory was “willing to experiment” with regards to his characters (21), and was able to make connections between themes, motifs, and figures from both literary and historical sources in order to create a truly unique 4 4 and independent Lady of the Lake, one evoking a kind of British nationalism which permeated the centuries before her and likely inspired it anew in all Malory’s readers. After covering the historical influences of druidism and Christian/Roman indoctrination on Celtic Britain, outlining the specific motif throughout Celtic myths of the ever-interfering women from the Nine Maiden Isle, and acknowledging the other literary influences and depictions of Nenive in other Celtic stories, this study will gather together these numerous connections between Malory’s Nenive and the Iceni warrior queen Boudicca, particularly pointing out how these connections resonate within each of these designated influences. Before we can delve into these topics with regards to Nenive, we need to take time to understand how scholarship has treated Nenive, as well as the other supernatural women in Arthurian legend, in the past. Analysis of the Arthurian supernatural women generally falls into a few schools of thought, and these schools will be expounded upon shortly with regards to specific scholarship. The most lasting approach to studying these women includes parallelism with Celtic and other pagan goddesses of Europe; from as far back as the turn of the twentieth century, Arthurian scholars, such as Roger Sherman Loomis or John Rhys, have expounded upon the multitudes of similarities and parallels to various goddesses which Morgan le Fay and the other supernatural Arthurian women exhibit. Another common theme in scholarship for these women, as seen in both Loomis and Rhys as well as others, is the influence of Celtic European fairy myths. This approach is nearly as pervasive as the goddess analysis, and results in just as many differing links between the women and the varying types of “faes.” Some scholars, like Ronald Hutton, focus more on how the Arthurian supernatural women relate to the religious aspects of their respective times, for instance regarding the characters as witches or even demonic in nature. Finally, a more 5 5 recent development in Arthurian scholarship, Kenneth Hodges and Amanda Marie Ewoldt among the examples, has seen analysis of how these women exhibit medieval socio-political and chivalric ideologies. A review of some scholars’ analysis in each of these categories of study, as well as how these separate approaches have evolved over time, will inform our understanding of these women, creating a foundation on which to sculpt a fresh image of Malory’s chief Lady of the Lake. For much of the twentieth century, scholarship centered on Arthurian women was focused on mythological connections between these women characters and goddesses throughout Celtic Britain and Europe. When it comes to pagan goddesses and Arthurian legend, one of the most important scholars in the field is Roger Sherman Loomis; in numerous articles on and studies about the Celtic myths and surrounding texts of Arthurian material, Loomis has tended to focus on interconnecting precursory figures to the supernatural characters of King Arthur’s world. In particular, Loomis spends an enormous amount of time expounding the seemingly ubiquitous presence of Morgan le Fay in representations of other goddess figures throughout Celtic societies. John Rhys, who has done a tremendous amount of work with ancient and medieval Welsh, and other Celtic peoples’, literature, falls in line next to Loomis in his literary interpretations. These two scholars have established the foundations for Arthurian studies in the first half of the twentieth century, and their opinions regarding goddesses and Arthurian women inform many of the more modern and recent scholarship as well. Both Loomis and Rhys tend to take a sort of traditional approach to the related myths, legends, characters and goddesses, comparing them to each other through tenuous and rather superficial links. In more than one of his articles, for 6 6 instance, Loomis links Morgan to Modron, who was apparently the daughter of an Avallach in a Welsh triad (“Combat at Ford” 66), but states a few pages later that as “a character under her own name [Modron] never plays a part…in Welsh story” (“Combat at Ford” 68). Making a connection and claiming its definitiveness without actually being able to provide proof of the claim can appear a little like jumping the shark. Loomis does this frequently; referring to Avallach, Loomis states that Morgan is the daughter of a supposed King Avallo or Avalloc “according to several texts” (“Combat at Ford” 66), yet does not specify which texts are being referenced. Geoffrey of Monmouth lists Aballac as one of the sons of Ebraucus (Historia Brittonum 79), but there is no mention of who this Aballac is or, indeed, of Morgan le Fay whatsoever in the Historia Brittonum. A King Avallo/Avalloc certainly never appears in name or personage in the Grail cycles, although some scholars argue that the figure of Evelac is meant to reflect that character (Rhys 324). Despite this information, Loomis is persistent in his arguments concerning Arthurian women and goddesses, particularly where Morgan le Fay is concerned. In another article he claims Modron is also one of Morgan’s sisters in two separate Arthurian texts (“Morgain” 199). As far as Loomis is concerned, despite possibilities of the contrary, Modron’s connection with Morgan is a done deal: “We are…confirmed in the belief that Modron is in some way an intermediate figure between the Irish goddesses and the Arthurian fay” (“Morgain” 195). Using Modron as a bridge of sorts between Morgan and other goddesses, Loomis then branches out the search for Morgan’s influences to include many different deity figures. According to Loomis, Modron is also associated with Matrona the mother goddess, who apparently is known as a water-divinity because her name is given to several rivers in Gaul (“Combat at Ford” 68). The argument that both Modron 7 7 and Morgan descend from this goddess makes sense if one accepts the information Loomis provides (“Combat at Ford” 68), but that is easier said than done. In a separate article, Loomis merges the equine goddess Epona with Matrona (“Morgain” 201), a befuddling mixture sharing only the occasional depiction of Epona carrying a cornucopia. The confusing connections in Loomis’s argument continue when he states the belief that Modron is “the nameless wife of Arawn, king of Annwn” (“Combat at Ford” 69), given that Arawn’s Arthurian counterpart would be this elusive King Avallo, who was apparently Modron’s father a few pages back; one may have difficulties in believing that the Welsh would accept or create a character who is both daughter and wife to the same divinity. Finally, although mentions of any Lady of the Lake outside of Morgan is infrequent in Loomis’s arguments, occasionally they are brought up with regards to goddesses. In one instance Loomis agrees with a fellow scholar that Nenive more than likely derives from Rhiannon than Niamh or any other source, due to the channel of transmission between the names and their connection through their narrative activities (“Some Names” 438). These examples of Loomis’s goddess connections to Arthurian women are just a snapshot of the full extent of his work; a similar review of Rhys’s scholarship will reveal many similarities to Loomis’s ideas. Rhys focuses more on connecting various Celtic fairy figures within different Arthurian texts, but he does bring up goddesses often as well. In one instance Rhys links Morgan le Fay to Liban, an Irish goddess from a faraway island (360). This connection invokes a quandary considering, as Rhys points out to us himself, Liban in Welsh translates to Llion, which ties Liban with an entirely different “fae” character from Malory—Dame Lyonesse (360-1). There are many more examples of Rhys’s scholarship incorporating traditional, comparative 8 8 mythological connections between goddesses and Arthurian women, but there are even more examples of this approach used with fairy figures—and Rhys isn’t the only one. While both Rhys and Loomis laid much of the groundwork for goddess interpretations, they also interwove fairy mythology in their analysis of Arthurian women. The discussion of Arthurian women and their relationships to fairy myths and lore would be substantially less developed all around, let alone where Loomis and Rhys is concerned, without the extensive work of Lucy Allen Paton. Her nineteenth century study provided detailed research and analysis of the “fays” of Arthurian legend, particularly the women, and Paton’s scholarship remains an important resource for Arthurian literary critics to this day. Loomis borrows much from Paton’s mythological analyses, specifically regarding the link between Morgan le Fay and such myths. For instance, Loomis connects Morgan with the Celtic water-fairies of the same name (“Breton Folklore” 295). The name of these fairies is being used as a title, with variants upon it to indicate sex: “Since the name Morgan is properly masculine, the name Mari is often prefixed to indicate the sex of these fairies” (Loomis, “Breton Folklore” 295). It remains unclear exactly whether Loomis is arguing in this instance that the Morgans influenced Morgan le Fay, or the other way around. Interestingly, the argument inadvertently weakens Loomis’s dogged stance that specific goddess characters translate directly to Morgan, as it creates the possibility that Morgan, this entire time, has been named purely by her title as a fairy and not as an individual. The Morgans are brought up again by Loomis in another article, where he quite plainly dismisses the fact that the sprite he is discussing is a male, because the coat of arms in association with the lake has a mermaid upon it (“Morgain” 198). Loomis says the Morgans and Morgan le Fay share two main characteristics, aquatic abode 9 9 and amorous propensities (“Morgain” 295); however, while the latter is true of Morgan, the former is not always applicable to her character in Arthurian literature. Despite Loomis’s enthusiasm for connecting Morgan with all types of Celtic supernatural figures, his comparative approach to the literature falls short of cohesive in many instances. Even within the different Arthurian texts, Loomis does not cease connecting Morgan with other fae-like women characters. Loomis makes a rather throwaway assumption in one article that Urbain’s mistress, from one of the Percival adventures, is clearly Morgan le Fay (“Combat at Ford” 69). Unfortunately, not only is there no proof whatsoever that the mistress is Morgan, but the Percival adventure is actually a parallel to the “Lady of the Fountain” story from the Mabinogion, in which the fairy figure from other corresponding Arthurian tales is Dame Lyonesse, not Morgan le Fay. With regards to the Lady of the Lake figure, most information Loomis provides concerning Nenive can be summed up with his comment that she has “inherited much from Morgain” (“Morgain” 189). In other words, Nenive is simply another facet of Loomis’s main focus, and warrants only as much discussion as her connection to that focus. One interesting aspect of this is that much of Loomis’s evidence of connections between these fairy figures relies on cognation. In one article Loomis calls Morgan a naiad or Nereid (“Morgain” 201); and yet, ironically, Loomis does not bring up that these terms align themselves in cognation much more with Nenive than Morgan le Fay. These arguments from Loomis are fairly representative of much of his scholarship regarding Arthurian women characters and how they relate to Celtic and European goddesses and fairies. Many of Rhys’s arguments concerning fairy myths in Arthurian texts, much like his analysis of goddess influences within those texts, coincide with Loomis’s 10 10 conclusions. In one instance, Rhys explains that Morgan relates to the Welsh Morgen “sea-born” as well as Muirgen, a name associated with Liban (22-3); however, Rhys espouses the term as identical with the figure, with no explanation other than cognation, when it is clear that the term is being used as a title, a class of water being or fae. Of these fairies, Rhys says “there is no occasion to regard…Morgens as forming distinct persons rather than one and the same fairy differently described,” but the opposite applies as well, given that there are differences (348). The very fact that they are described as Morgans, plural, forces readers to view them as a group of separate beings, not one sole figure. Regardless of the breaks in logic, both Loomis and Rhys enthusiastically take a page from Paton’s book when they conduct their analyses of the fairy figures and their connections with Arthurian women. For over the first half of the twentieth century, these scholars’ very traditional, comparative outlook on Arthurian texts and Celtic myths dominated their respective discussions. It wasn’t until around the seventies that Arthurian scholars began to finally deviate from their predecessors and follow different paths with regards to approaching analysis of Arthurian women. One scholar who marks this change in critical approach is S.E. Holbrook, who conducts her analysis differently from past scholars in two distinct ways: for one, Holbrook decides to focus on Nenive as her own character and not to focus on Morgan le Fay, and she also studies Malory’s text with a strictly narrative level focus. Refreshingly enthusiastic in her article, Holbrook declares Nenive as “a sturdy, memorable adjunct…that enriches this work’s narrative world” (761). With regards to Malory, this appreciation for authorial craftsmanship rather than excavation for analogous influences was virtually unheard of. Holbrook boldly asserts, concerning Malory’s Nenive, that “Malory surpassed all his predecessors 11 11 in achieving a minor figure whose…intermittent appearances form a definite pattern and flow consistently from a single, unambiguously benign character” (767). As mentioned in her study as well, most scholarship focusing on Nenive up to that point in time had been “incidental” or a byproduct of analysis of Morgan (761). While a relatively simple critical look at Malory’s Le Morte Darthur, Holbrook’s article marked a coming change in the approaches Arthurian and Celtic scholars would take with regards to women characters, be them goddesses, fairies, witches, or mere mortal ladies. Less than a decade after Holbrook’s article, scholarship on Arthurian and Celtic women began to branch into differing approaches and conclusions from older, now seemingly outdated arguments. Studies begin to analyze these characters and figures for their own merit, focusing less on analogues and parallels, as we’ve seen in Loomis’s and Rhys’s work. During this time between the early eighties and the nineties, feminism rose in academia, and the influence of this movement can be seen in the newer view of Arthurian and Celtic women figures. In the field of critical analyses for Celtic goddesses, Miranda Aldhouse- Green (also cited as Miranda Green) emerged; she developed her own studies and books, as well as edits and contributes to various anthologies of goddess scholarship, in particular during this time period The Gods of the Celts. Another scholar, Mary Condren, conducted a wide-ranging study of the differing depictions of goddesses throughout time and culture in The Serpent and the Goddess: Women, Religion, and Power in Celtic Ireland, covering many of the goddess figures which are discussed in this study. A good example of the kinds of articles being written during this time is Clark’s Goddess, Fairy Mistress, and Sovereignty: Women of the Irish Supernatural; for instance, Clark expresses in the study that it is “misleading” to “equate all worship of the feminine with mother 12 12 worship” (446), choosing to explore different interpretations of the goddesses being discussed. The archetype of the fairy mistress is also discussed at length, and ultimately Clark interweaves goddess and fairy figures throughout her analysis, the contexts of some of the myths lending themselves to both categories very easily. Another, darker, work focusing on Celtic fairies in different stories and legends is Patricia Lysaght’s The Banshee: The Irish Supernatural Death- Messenger, which even references Arthurian women such as Morgan le Fay in its survey of pervading banshee “faes.” Overall, these scholars and their respective studies fairly represent the varying fresh scholarship which arose during this time regarding Arthurian and Celtic women figures. The progressive variation in approaches to analysis of Arthurian women experiences an interesting lull in the decade leading up to the twenty-first century. A return to some of the earlier, Loomis-like arguments occurs in some articles, and others begin cross-cultural comparisons or emphasizing religious and/or historical accuracy. For instance, with regards to the goddess connections to Arthurian women, we see scholars such as Geoffrey Ashe stating that the ancient Celtic god Maponus descends into Mabon, Modron’s son, and that Mabon is associated with Arthur (7). Then, however, Ashe declares that Matrona or “Mother,” who is apparently Maponus’s mother, “probably” descended into Morgan le Fay, simply because she “has a divine origin and is even called a goddess” (7). The application of Morgan and Arthur to these different deities is quite disparate with their actual relationship to each other in Arthurian literature as always brother and sister. Also, Mabon son of Modron is listed as one of Arthur’s counselors in the Mabinogion (225), which would be difficult to reconcile with Ashe’s argument. A more in depth study during this period also deals with specific goddess figures which are, very often, associated with Arthurian women 13 13 characters. The topic which Angelique Gulermovich Epstein focuses on is that of the Irish-Celtic figures of the Morrigan. Through cross-cultural analysis, Gulermovich Epstein “postulate[s] a Germano-Celtic war goddess who possesses the warrior, and at his death in combat, acts as psychopomp, taking him to his eternal reward by devouring him on the battlefield while in the form of a carrion bird” (viii). A list of traits Gulermovich Epstein assigns to the Morrigan is as follows: “prophecy, incitement, terrible noise, direct assault (either physical or magical), joy in the carnage of battle, and proclaiming victory” (93). There are three main goddess figures Gulermovich Epstein focuses on—Nemain, Morrigan, and Badb— as well as other names which are not as present in the myths; Gulermovich Epstein tries to include as much about them as possible, giving the figures thorough and detailed coverage. One point which Gulermovich Epstein discusses is crucial to mention with regards to this study: that of the plurality or singularity of the Morrigan figures. Gulermovich Epstein states plainly that “etymology tends to preserve the earliest nature of a deity, but using it poses risks for the scholar, as a deity’s function may change over time…while his name may not” (70); despite this, Gulermovich Epstein believes the Morrigans’ names, titles, and genealogies are interchangeable, making one lone figure (61). Even the disparate etymology and the differing names does not sway this opinion. Instead, Gulermovich Epstein explains that as time went on the term badb—one name associated with the Morrigan—diminished in definition from goddess or supernatural being to either witch or human with supernatural powers, less threatening and easily dismissed, as well as pertaining to a class of beings as opposed to one figure (Gulermovich Epstein 170). While Gulermovich Epstein conducts impressively detailed analysis of these goddesses, 14 14 ultimately examples such as this one reveal, as Ashe’s did, a tendency of scholars during the nineties to fall back on more comparative arguments. In addition to this, Arthurian and Celtic scholarship sees an expansion during this period of religious and historical criticism applied to the various characters, and in particular the women. For instance, Marion Wynne-Davies conducts a large and expansive interpretation of Arthurian women, and states, with regards to older Arthurian texts, that “the female characters [in Arthurian literature] may be roughly divided into ‘good ladyes’ and dangerous ‘sorsseres’…the key to [the] distinction is magic and the supernatural; good women are defined according to their social standing…while evil women are given powers beyond normal expectations” (66). Unfortunately, this description of the women within Arthurian narratives leaves out, entirely, any version of the Lady or Ladies of the Lake. Nenive is given these “powers beyond normal expectations” and yet functions in Malory’s text as a political advisor and combat ally to King Arthur, as well as a valiant protector and judge of good knights and ladies. Additionally, the argument that Malory’s supernatural women are “always destructive…antichivalric… [with] subversive machinations” has absolutely no foundation with regards to Nenive’s character whatsoever (Wynne-Davies 69). With regards to Morgan’s character, Wynne-Davies makes the statement that Morgan’s behavior in Le Morte Darthur “allies her to the devil and to the archetypal forces of evil which constantly beset the Arthurian court and all mankind” (68). This is an arguable claim, and one which Wynne-Davies is not alone in making with regards to Morgan le Fay. It does seem strange, however, that society would approve of the hero and legend, King Arthur, being taken away to his eternal rest by an ally of the Christian devil, as Morgan is characterized here. Since the 1990s, religious and historical analysis of Arthurian supernatural 15 15 women has continued to grow; a good example of this would be the works of Ronald Hutton, who has dedicated several studies to the religious aspects of Arthurian legend, particularly druidism. Hutton also discusses the representation of supernatural Arthurian women as depicting, in many instances, criticism of witches and witchcraft in medieval Europe. The newest intriguing approach to Arthurian supernatural women, however, involves analyzing the chivalric, socio- political functions of these women within their respective Arthurian texts. As we’ve seen, linking Arthurian women such as Morgan le Fay and the Lady of the Lake with goddesses and fairies is a long-standing staple of Arthurian scholarship; however, there are those who are attempting to break from the application of this classic critical lens. Keeping Morgan and Nenive separated is more common in recent scholarship than some of the earlier articles. Anne Berthelot, for example, assumes distinction between them, particularly in the Lancelot-Grail cycles. In general, Berthelot believes “the ‘faes’ embody a number of anomalies with regard to the rational, orthodox world of men…they do possess a kind of monopoly on magic, or in other words, on anything resembling the satisfaction of natural desires through unnatural means” (76). Excluding Merlin, this seems to be an accurate observation where Arthurian myths are concerned— the majority of the magical figures are indeed female. In fact, Berthelot’s argument is that the Lady of the Lake and Morgan le Fay are used to undermine Merlin’s importance in Arthurian romances (77). Unfortunately, when Berthelot brings Morgan le Fay’s character into the mix, the interpretation of Nenive’s character makes a more stereotypical turn: “Morgue is a more stable character…than is the Lady of the Lake” (61). This, rather subjective, assertion does not do Nenive or the other Ladies of the Lake justice; especially when taking into consideration all of Arthurian literature, both figures have wide, varying 16 16 discrepancies in their depictions throughout the legends. Another bold claim made is that “Morgue, through her bonds with Avalon, is or should be the Lady of the Lake. Niniane-Niviene is nothing but an upstart magician” (Berthelot 60). Taken in the context of only the Grail cycle, Berthelot’s opinion here is logical; however, the influences upon both of these women characters, and especially Nenive, are much more nuanced than Berthelot makes them out to be in this argument; for instance, Berthelot compares Nenive and the Roman goddess Diana, but while Diana the Huntress is a clear influence on Nenive’s character in the Lancelot-Grail cycles, to argue, as Berthelot does, that associating Nenive with Diana makes her an “intruder” diminishes Nenive’s narrative purpose (60). Altogether, Berthelot’s article displays some innovative as well as traditional analytical moves. Another scholarly attempt to break away from normal Arthurian connections to goddesses belongs to Larissa Tracy. Tracy blends religious analysis with goddess influences, stating that the symbol of a pentacle, recurrent in the Arthurian text Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, “may have become a symbol of the pagan goddess, who occasionally appears in medieval literature as Morgan le Fay” (35). Tracy fails to specify which pagan goddess this could be a reference to, or why Morgan le Fay would be associated with her; later on in the article, however, Tracy mentions the possibility of Morgan as a trickster figure (43). Overall, what Tracy attempts is a persuasive argument for the druidic and pagan aspects of Morgan le Fay in SGGK, playing it safe with some of the analytical associations. One scholar who does not play it safe with goddess affiliations and other claims, if allowing for some superficial assumptions in the process, is Choronzy, who undertakes a huge study of the influences upon Merlin, Morgan le Fay, and the Lady of the Lake in many Arthurian texts. As an example, Choronzy argues 17 17 that Morgan’s and the Morrigan’s “attacks prove not to be maniacal” and instead are “tests issued to strengthen the hero” (16). Particularly with regards to Malory’s text, this argument doesn’t necessarily hold weight, unfortunately; it’s made explicitly clear in the narrative that Morgan is trying to kill her brother—not simulate a murder to teach him something, but to actually murder him. Choronzy also persistently assumes that the Morrigan and Morgan le Fay preside over the supernatural islands of their respective mythology, although failing to provide the evidence necessary to accept such a claim (28). Virtually no indication that Morgan is the queen of Avalon exists in Malory’s text besides the final scene of Arthur sailing away to the island with her and the other queens. Choronzy links the Morrigan and Morgan as well through the relationship which the Morrigan has with Cuchulainn, drawing tenuous parallels to Arthur’s relationship with his sister (27). In short, regarding Morgan le Fay, Choronzy deviates from scholarly conclusions on Morgan’s narrative intents while maintaining a dogged assurance of some hackneyed goddess associations with the character. Compared to Choronzy’s interpretation of Morgan, the arguments associated with Nenive are more understandable, and exhibit some encouraging equivocation with regards to goddess analogues. Choronzy admits that “an attempt to confine Nimue to one specific goddess would be in vain, for there are numerous Celtic water goddesses and gods” (20). Despite the truth of this statement, Choronzy does connect Nenive with Clota, another water goddess, and the Welsh Branwen who is the daughter of a sea god (20). According to Choronzy, “Nimue…represents common elements shared by these goddesses, which are their associations to fertility, rejuvenation, and their later personas as fairies” (20). This statement is curious as fertility is not often associated with Nenive, and Choronzy does not elaborate on that claim. Unfortunately, Choronzy 18 18 appears to agree with Berthelot that “Niniane has risen above her station, so to speak, in [the Grail cycle] and subsumed the role that rightfully belonged to…Morgan” (53). Regardless of Choronzy’s adherence to the more traditional views of these Arthurian women, Choronzy’s study dedicates a significant amount of attention to Nenive, which is refreshing and crucial for scholarship concerning this elusive character. Even more refreshing are some of Choronzy’s scholarly peers and how they undertake a different angle from the majority of scholars before them. Recent scholarship surrounding Arthurian women, particularly Malory’s Nenive, shows interest in the characters’ chivalric, political, and social purposes in the narrative, and implications for readers. There is a general consensus that Nenive positively affects change in Le Morte Darthur, and represents an importantly progressive medieval feminine force. Kenneth Hodges, for instance, argues that Nenive “redefines crucial elements of political and romantic chivalry, demonstrating that women can participate in chivalry as agents instead of objects” in Malory’s Arthuriad (78). This supports the interpretation of Nenive as an important source of independence and agency in the narrative, a key aspect of her characterization which ties into this study’s focus on Boudicca’s influence upon her. Another point Hodges makes is that the women in Malory’s text should be distinguished from each other; specifically he emphasizes that the approach scholars take with these characters needs to be “balance[d]…by recognizing fundamental differences between [these] women…” (86) Although Hodges thinks Nenive and Morgan “probably stem from the same archetype” (86), he does maintain that the two women are purposefully distinct from each other: “Morgan le Fay and Nyneve are moral opposites; this judgment depends on recognizing that each participates enough in Arthur’s chivalry to be judged by its standards” 19 19

(Hodges 86). This is important with regards to this study as it supports the claim that Malory crafted Nenive separately from Morgan’s influences, which opens the possibility of analyzing Nenive’s distinct purpose. Mainly, Hodges’s article displays positive representation of Nenive as well as the other Arthurian women in Malory’s work, without drawing upon analogous supernatural figures. In accordance with the fundamentals of Hodge’s argument, Kaufman also focuses on Nenive’s personal autonomy and behavior, particularly with regards to her political influence in Malory’s text. Nenive, Kaufman states, “integrates marginalized femininity into society and forces to the surface what has been shrouded in mysterious, watery exile in the Vulgate romances and Post- Vulgate…female magic, female power, and female governance” (57). Kaufman argues that Nenive’s interventions in Arthur’s affairs are ultimately to help elevate herself to the Lake’s chief Lady, thereby making her actions entirely political in nature (57). Where typically the women are judged by the men for their crimes, Kaufman points out that “Malory has made several changes to his sources…fashioning roles for women as the judges of their male protectors” (60); essentially Nenive acts in Malory as a “complete reversal of the usual gendering of power” (Kaufman 63). The arguments Kaufman makes define Nenive by her gender and political aspirations, not by her relationship to other men or her supernatural powers, and this is virtually unheard of for scholarship concerning this Lady of the Lake figure. While Kaufman sees Nenive as a political force, Ewoldt considers all aspects of Nenive’s character, even her supernatural powers, as worthy of much more scholarly appraisal. As far as Ewoldt is concerned, “the medieval Lady of the Lake is the unsung heroine of the Arthurian saga” (56). Ewoldt conducts a thorough analysis of Nenive’s previous depictions in Arthurian literature in order 20 20 to argue the purpose behind Malory’s characterization of her in Le Morte Darthur. Nenive is described by Ewoldt as “a policing force” in the chivalric realm of the Arthurian literatures (21), and in order for Malory to advantageously use such a character in his narrative, Ewoldt believes it was necessary to keep her portrayal as a supernatural being. “As a guardian fairy and/or enchantress, the Lady is allowed to exercise more autonomy…as a purely human character, her power would be limited” (Ewoldt iii), so Malory needed to combine elements both historical, mythological, and supernatural in order to justify Nenive’s independent conduct. This amalgamation of all realms of scholarly attention paid to Nenive thus far— her supernatural precursory influences, politically charged actions in the narrative, and noble social intentions in textual behavior—makes Ewoldt’s study of Malory’s character truly valuable. A brief summary of the different approaches scholarship has taken with regards to Arthurian supernatural women proves to be virtually impossible, despite most articles throughout the years falling into only four main categories. The most pervasive analytical tendency is connecting Celtic goddess and fairy figures to these supernatural characters; while many of these discussions follow the same patterns, presently scholars are attempting to apply religious and historical context to these women, or to break down their narrative actions into social and political statements on medieval chivalry. Now that some examples of all of these differing arguments have been presented, we can move forward in this study armed with key knowledge, which will make combining all four of these categories for this argument an intriguing experience. Standing upon the foundation of these scholars’ studies on goddesses, fairies, religious considerations and societal factors surrounding Nenive’s character, this study will show there is one influential figure upon Nenive which has yet to be considered with any serious attention—Boudicca 21 21 from the first century A.D. The content of these sources will be interwoven into this study and utilized in a few ways: the character of the Lady of the Lake, particularly Malory’s Nenive from Le Morte Darthur, exhibits signs of being influenced by the historical and medieval ideas concerning druidism, and the belief in Otherworldly islands filled with independent and immortal women, who manifested in Celtic myths in a variety of ways. The ancient figure that encompasses all these aspects of Malory’s literary influences is Boudicca, the Iceni warrior queen, who fought for her tribe’s freedom from Roman oppression and, much like Arthur, symbolized for Malory a perfectly just and victorious leader that could free Britain from the fetters of political and religious strife, both external and internal.

CHAPTER 2: DRUIDISM AND THE NINE MAIDEN ISLE MOTIF IN MALORY’S ARTHURIAD

Nenive clearly is associated with the supernatural in Malory’s text; her relationship with Merlin results in her becoming a powerful enchantress and a trusted advisor in Arthur’s court. Her education by Merlin alludes to a tradition of knowledge and practices passed down through the ages, and the secret content of such an education further supports that allusion. Malory purposefully shrouds Merlin’s tutelage of Nenive, and this purpose is the key to understanding one of the main influences of her depiction in Le Morte Darthur. The treatment of the supernatural by Malory in his Arthuriad is a subject many scholars have analyzed, considering the ambiguity surrounding these mystical instances in his narrative. Getting to the heart of Malory’s ambiguous supernatural depictions in his text is a task which will require a look into ecclesiastical and social environments for Celtic British people throughout the ages, leading up to the medieval period and Malory’s Le Morte Darthur. Specifically, the effect of druidism on European societies rendered many mysteriously characterized figures, both male and female, as rebellious, powerful, and politically ambitious, due to the druids’ ties to British uprisings throughout the first millennium A.D. Boudicca exhibited druidic attributes, and Malory subsequently incorporated such attributes in his depiction of Nenive. Choronzy points out in one study an “historical parallel” to the powers and social behaviors which Nenive, Morgan, and Merlin, the three primary supernatural figures in Arthurian legend, all have (17): “The imperfect fusion of the Celtic and pagan religions and the confusion of the place of magic in society…parallel the allure and threat of the magical characters in Malory’s Arthuriad” (Choronzy iii). Since the beginning of the Roman conquest of Europe, 23 23 and especially within the medieval period, Christianity pervasively dominated the other religions of the English countries, overhauling cultural myths, legends, and practices to align with the ecclesiastical views of the new Roman leaders of the lands. Early medievalists believed, after surveying the records and texts of this historical period, that “Christianity had an unwavering hold on the minds and spirits of people in the Middle Ages, and as such, any non-Christian elements…had to be reconfigured as demonic elements or purely Christian ones” (Tracy 48). In other words, these scholars believed any theological interpretation of medieval literature which did not specifically reference Christianity either alluded to its supremacy, or represented its evil characters and ideas. The irony of this circumstance is not lost on medieval scholars despite their conviction of its validity; as many of them understand, this “denunciation of pagan magic” is entirely hypocritical from an analytical point-of-view, “for as the bible proves, much of fundamental Christian theology is actually renamed pagan magic” (Choronzy 55). This makes the search for pagan influences and images in medieval texts, poured over and reworked by Christian monks and scribes, seem futile. However, despite aggressive attempts and publically displayed confidence, Christianity did not have as decided a control over the pagan Celtic populations as these earlier scholars assumed; in fact, evidence continues to emerge that paganism “resisted the introduction” of this new religion (Tracy 48). Now it appears, through more and more analysis, that a “startling amount of pagan material—plot, personage, mythic paradigms—has been preserved in these tales” (Sayers 77). And yet, as William Sayers continues, it is still difficult to weed out these pagan glimpses from the “the thoroughly Christian context in which they were given literate form” (77). What can be understood through careful 24 24 examination of many medieval texts and stories is that druidism was a major pagan force that pervaded the centuries. Historically, druidism proves to be one of the most doggedly persecuted religions in the British Isles; the secrecy of its practices and the natural and polytheistic focus of its beliefs combined to create a shadowy, ambiguous cult in the eyes of most of the differing European leaders. Roman invaders from the beginning of the first century A.D. persisted vehemently in trying to wipe out druidism, as Donald R. Dudley and Graham Webster point out: “To the Roman administration in Gaul and Britain that powerful priesthood was a grim reality for more than a hundred years” (52). The Romans’ reason for eradicating the druids cannot be religiously motivated as “the Romans had a reputation for displaying religious tolerance in the territories they conquered” (Choronzy 60). Choronzy reminds us as well that “the pagan Romans and Celts shared one great similarity, which was that both were polytheistic religions” (60). Therefore, the most likely reason the Romans persisted in attacking the druids is that these druids proved resistant and hostile toward Roman rule. According to Aldhouse-Green, druids in Wales during the first century A.D. “presented a very real threat to the stability of Britain as a conquered province” (150), causing Suetonius Paulinus’s decision to focus on annihilating their communities in that country instead of maintaining a watchful eye and heavy presence on the recently pacified British peoples; this ended up being a huge mistake, as it led to one of the most successful campaigns against Roman occupation the Britons had ever undertaken. Tacitus describes those rebelling against Paulinus as “black-robed women with disheveled hair like Furies, brandishing torches…[and] Druids, raising their hands to heaven and screaming dreadful curses” (Dudley and Webster 59-60). Such a sight apparently “awed the Roman soldiers into a kind of paralysis” (Dudley and Webster 59-60). 25 25

These are a few examples of how druidism in particular built up a hostile, abrasive reputation in the British Isles long before Christianity ascended in predominance. It is easy to understand the fear and awe of these halfway-mythical figures within the general British public over the coming years, as tales of druids and druidesses, convening on far-away islands and planning their rebellion and resistance to the Romans, grew with the spreading of newly translated European texts throughout the country. One early account of pagan communities gathering in remote locations comes from Demetrius of Tarsus, whom Plutarch mentions in his works. Demetrius tells of visiting an island “which lay nearest to those uninhabited, and [he] found it occupied by few inhabitants, who were, however, sacrosanct and inviolable in the eyes of the Britons” (Rhys 368). Here Demetrius hears them tell of the story of Kronos sleeping on one of those islands (Rhys 368). These people whom Demetrius visited were very likely involved in some form of druidism, which is a religion within the dome of paganism; druids frequently preferred to remove themselves to distant islands, as “some of them expected to derive advantage from the wall of inviolability which the pagans of former ages had built round the person of the islander” (Rhys 369). In other words, they needed to be closer to their gods and goddesses and they needed the inviolability which was afforded them by feeding into these enchanted island myths spreading slowly but surely over the British Isles. Arthurian legend in general borrows much of the magical aspects of its characters from druidism; as John Morris explains, in Arthur’s purported historical time Christianity was still “in conflict with…powerful Druids” (176). Druidism permeates Arthurian literature, which in turn fed into the British-Celtic myths surrounding those areas of political and religious strife, not just in Arthur’s time 26 26 but throughout the first millennium. For instance, Aldhouse-Green tells us that “the association between holy groves and the Druids was a dynamic phenomenon relating to the secrecy within which the priesthood was forced to operate…Druids had recourse to hidden forest shrines” (153). According to Christopher A. Snyder, “it is likely that Druids did not entirely disappear in Britain [after Paulinus’s campaign] and may be equated with the ‘wizards’ who later served the Pictish kings” (52); Snyder attributes this possibility to “votive shafts and sacred groves appearing close to Roman towns and forts in Britain” long after the supposed total Romanization of the country (53). This information can be linked to Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Vita Merlini, when Merlin resides in the woods to conduct his astrology and prophecies. Of course, no one could forget Merlin’s involvement with the creation of Stonehenge, purportedly removed from Kildare in Ireland to its current location in Britain by Merlin’s magic (Geoffrey, Historia Brittonum 196-99); Merlin explains here the reason why the stones were chosen: “These stones are connected with certain secret religious rites and they have various properties which are medicinally important” (Geoffrey, Historia Brittonum 196). The secrecy shrouding these religious rites as well as Merlin’s own unique ability to be able to handle the stones paints him as a druidic figure. While Merlin exudes the most druidic behaviors within the Arthurian traditions as a whole, in Malory’s narrative it is the Ladies of the Lake who notably reflect druidism in their abilities and their secrecy. As mentioned previously, Merlin teaches Nenive all of his powers and knowledge, but Malory keeps from us exactly what these powers entail or the extent of Nenive’s newly acquired knowledge. This reflects druidic secrecy concerning their texts, practices, rites, and beliefs. Also, the association with water in Malory’s text saturates the Ladies of the Lake with druidic mystery and marvel. According to 27 27

Choronzy, for Celtic people in the medieval period “any interaction with a body of water represented a meditative gesture… [and held] an esoteric connotation” (22). This revered view of water was inherited from ancient times, as “ancient Irish bards believed that the river’s edge, the brink of the water, was the only place where eisce—wisdom, knowledge and poetry—was revealed” (Ellis 24). Being linked with water in and of itself would not necessarily mean the Ladies of the Lake in Malory’s text had druidic undertones; however, specific actions within the narrative make this association between them undoubtable. For the Celtic people, “Water-deposition was a common cult-act…objects may have been cast into water for many purposes. The act may have defunctionalised them for the gods, [or] invoked specific water spirits…” (Green 42) Indeed, archaeological evidence has been discovered in Anglesey, the location of Suetonius Paulinus’s annihilation of the druidic sanctuary, that such water-deposition activities were taking place regularly there, by the majority of the Celtic British tribes, “as an offering to the gods” (Dudley and Webster 111). This practice of water-deposition has an obvious connection with Le Morte Darthur, specifically to Arthur’s acquisition of Excalibur from the Lady of the Lake, and his insistence upon its return to the lake during his death. If that were not sufficient to make the argument, the fact that it is a weapon which Malory writes as being taken from, and deposited in, water, means that the Ladies of the Lake are representatives of more powerful, supernatural beings: “The nature of the…weapons [deposited]…points…to gifts offered in propitiation or appeasement of the powers residing in the water” (Green 139). Through the taking and returning of Excalibur, Malory clearly meant to portray these ladies as druidic, perhaps even semi-divine. Nenive herself engages in a particular druidic practice during Malory’s narrative, namely exerting her will through the power of her words. For druids, 28 28

“cursing was an important part of their function and ‘word power’ would have been considered extremely potent” as far as their magical influence on the world around them (Aldhouse-Green 153). For instance, the druids, during the previously mentioned confrontation between them and Suetonius Paulinus on the shore of Anglesey, were “screeching…imprecations” at the Roman attackers, an apparently terrifying and intimidating display to behold (Aldhouse-Green 153). Nenive similarly uses the power of her words throughout Malory’s text in order to exert her will on those around her, for instance when she curses Lady Ettard. When she learns of the situation with Sir Pelleas and Lady Ettard, she declares “I will warrant his life he shall not die for love. And she that hath caused him so to love, she shall be in as evil plight as he is or it be long, too” (Malory 79). The irony in this scenario lies behind Nenive remarking to the Lady Ettard, after she’s been enchanted by Nenive, that Lady Ettard’s circumstance is the “righteous judgment of God” (Malory 80); Nenive boldly claims a god-like ability here, and she proves her mastery of this ability throughout other instances in the story, from her subsequent declaration that Sir Pelleas will love her after she wakes him (Malory 80), to her dictating the testing of the enchanted mantle meant to kill Arthur (Malory 73). Other occurrences of druidism in Le Morte Darthur involve Merlin’s and Morgan’s abilities to shape-shift, whether into different looking people, as in Merlin’s case (Malory 19-20; 22-3; 38), or into completely inanimate objects, as in Morgan’s (Malory 72). The ability to change one’s shape into other people, things, or animals has been associated with even the most ancient of religious beliefs; for instance, graves of men and women from the second to first century B.C. and excavated in Celtic countries are sometimes found with totems, bones, feathers, or other trinkets, which were “reflective of the dead person’s apotheosis 29 29 or of her ability to shape-shift between human and [animal/bird] form, like a traditional shaman…perhaps [having] particular powers to go between worlds” (Aldhouse-Green 100). Not only does Aldhouse-Green mention shape-shifting here, but the ability to move between different realms—this is present in Nenive’s, Lunet’s, and Dame Lyonesse’s travels throughout Malory’s narrative, moving in and out of the Otherworld to conduct their business and claim their paramours. Shamanistic animal shape-shifting is associated with other Celtic figures usually associated with Malory’s story—from the Morrigan, to Rhiannon, to Liban and Fand in their swan forms, to even the Iceni Queen Boudicca, if one considers the Iceni Wolf as representative of Boudicca’s own animal persona (Aldhouse-Green 242). The druidic belief that the soul could survive “from one body to another” was present throughout these myths (Hutton, The Druids 59), and clearly displayed in Malory’s text. While Nenive herself does not ever shape-shift, she does engage in another druidic activity in Le Morte Darthur besides her word- power, one of which Merlin’s own exhibitions have been discussed earlier—the ability to move large objects, specifically stones, at will and ensure their immovability afterwards. Nenive shows this when she traps Merlin in the cave after she has learned all she wanted from him (Malory 59). Through this analysis of the druidic aspects of Malory’s magical characters, particularly the Ladies of the Lake, it may be argued that Malory was using his text “as a subtle criticism of religious persecution” which ran rampant in medieval times (Wynne-Davies 36). As has been expounded often by many scholars, the supernatural aspects of Le Morte Darthur are never clearly defined or focused upon; as Hodges puts it, Malory has a “well-known tendency to reduce the role of the supernatural in his version of the Arthurian legend” (78). Malory’s motivation behind the coy handling of these elements in the story plays into the mysterious 30 30 aspects of druidism, but more concrete examples of druidic influences are also clearly present throughout, especially for Nenive. Given this, these textual examples and circumstantial instances regarding Arthurian links to druidism can propel us into more detailed exploration of some of the specific recurring motifs throughout Arthurian literature, as well as their apparent manifestation in Malory’s work. After this, links between Boudicca, Nenive’s other lesser influences, and Nenive herself will be established and further analyzed, basing such links on the foundation of the druidic aspects surrounding some of the figures, their similar attributes, and their presence within one particular mythological motif—that of the Nine Maiden Isle. Across cultures and countries in Europe, as far back as ancient times, there existed a pervasive belief in a far-away island inhabited by a group of enchantresses/sorceresses/goddesses, most often particularly numbered. One possible origin of this motif could be the Roman myth of Kronos, sleeping on an island and guarded by his servants, as Demetrius did during his travels when he encountered such stories. However, the Celts specifically maintained the idea of a women-only or women-dominated island, which bears significance to the influence this motif had upon Arthurian tradition. In particular for the Celts, and even other cultures at times, the number of women generally associated with this motif is nine. The evident depiction of this influence is seen in Arthurian literature’s island of Avalon, where the Ladies of the Lake and other supernatural women call their home. Surely many factors went into the creation of this idea; the historical events in druidism was very likely one influence, as well as the multiplicity of goddesses throughout the Celtic communities. While in the past scholars tended to lump goddesses into one general figure with varying facets, 31 31 connecting them to medieval Arthurian literature—especially to Nenive—is a limiting approach to understanding the myriad aspects of these deities. The overlying belief concerning analysis of these deities is that “the difficulty arises from the same divinity having a variety of names serving to express overlapping aggregates of attributes” (Rhys 259). However, there is another possibility—that instead the difficulty lies in there being too many different divinities in Celtic societies who, though perhaps share similar functions, are entirely different figures in their own right. Indeed, Condren points out, “the Celts…[had] too many gods, often tied down to local places or specific to a particular tribe” (59); the assertion that so many types of water deities or sea goddesses are simply variations upon one, singular deity is remarkably absurd in the face of the countless differing examples of these figures, from Sequana of the Seine or Verbeia of the Wharfe (Green 140), Coventina near Hadrian’s Wall or Abandinus in Cambridgeshire (Green 149), as just a few examples. It makes little sense to persist in the unification of these goddess figures into one lone original personage. While functions or traits of these goddesses would obviously have some similarities, it is statistically improbable that all of them derived from the self-same overlying goddess. Trying to pinpoint the original nine maidens who first inspired this Nine Maiden Isle motif is difficult, mainly because it’s impossible to definitively claim whether the earliest mention of the motif spread from there, or whether a subsequent spin on the motif made the rest of references, including the older ones, stand out more. Either way, from the Celtic myths especially, the motif holds significant importance with regards to understanding Malory’s depiction of the Ladies of the Lake and their Otherworldly realms, whether such realms were the Isle of Avilion or the Castle Perilous. The Otherworld within Celtic mythology, 32 32 like the Otherworld of Le Morte Darthur, is not one distinct, specific location— sometimes getting to the Otherworld for the Celts or the knights of the Round Table meant getting in a bronze boat and going out to one or a hundred islands, and sometimes it meant traveling over land and passing through an indistinguishable veil to a different land, without any clear boundaries defined (Clark 102). Apparently there is “evidence that riches of Avalon had become proverbial in French literary circles which knew not Geoffrey” (Loomis, “Geoffrey” 24). This would seem to support the theory, if lacking one specific location to point to, that the idea of an Otherworldly island was widespread throughout cultures. Loomis considers a viable way for how the Arthurian traditions could have spread through so many countries and cultures (“Geoffrey” 32-3), but the main point is that regardless of specific location, a distant community of supernatural women within a far-away Otherworldly land was incredibly common. One of the oldest references to this idea comes from Pomponius Mela in De Chorographia, probably written around the early 5th century A.D., where nine priestesses are mentioned as living on the island of Sena. These women knew the future, and Pomponius Mela refers to them as Gallicenae, or Celts (Ellis 94-5). Another older source also references a faraway island inhabited by mysterious societies; in an analysis of the origins and historicity of Avalon, Krappe talks of Pliny the Elder’s reference to Pytheas’s Abalus Island and Timaus’s Isle Basilia, stating that since the Ancient Greek word for “kingdom” was βασίλεια, these islands were likely one and the same (304). This is an astute observation, despite the fact that Krappe actually references the term βασιλεία, which means “queen,” not kingdom (Shelmerdine 248). The mix-up actually reveals the potential for an entirely different conclusion concerning these islands—that Pytheas told people 33 33

Abalus was ruled by a queen, not that it was a kingdom under a ruler. Peter Berresford Ellis links these early references to the Nine Maiden Isle to the Welsh Peredur tale of Gloucester (95), and also mentions the Larzac inscription in which nine Gaulish druidesses are listed by name (95). Slightly more outside of the druid influence is the example of Brigit, an old Irish goddess who eventually became a saint in the Christian Irish records. Apparently in some obscure Irish myths, “Brigit is mentioned as one of a company of nine women, ‘Women of the Judgments,’ who appear to act as advisors to the wife of the king” (Condren 72). The remarkable similarities between these examples and Nenive’s position in Le Morte Darthur, from her magical powers inherited by the druidic Merlin to her eventual succession as Arthur’s advisor in his court, make it clear that this motif influenced Malory’s narrative. When we continue in Celtic-Irish mythology, even more variables upon this Nine Maiden Isle motif become exposed. As Gulermovich Epstein’s analysis of several source texts confirms (66-7), there are nine daughters of Ernmas who are described as prophetic, beautiful warriors. Fedelm Noichride, or Fedelm of the Nine Forms, daughter of Conchubur, is another variation on our motif, giving it a unique spin: “nine forms she displayed, and each was lovelier than the last” (Gantz 230). This particular figure would give a little credence to the attempts at unifying these goddesses throughout the legends, but the infrequency of this kind of representation coupled with the more numerous documentation of multiplicity in the motif both undermine that argument. There are many more instances of the Otherworld site being populated by several women than there are instances of one figure parading as many; Bran is visited by a woman brandishing an apple branch and inviting him to the far away island of Manannan Mac Lir or the Island of Woman (Heaney 57-58); Maildun’s Boat story speaks of the Isle of the Four 34 34

Precious Walls which is allotted severally to kings and queens, youths and maidens (Rhys 304); a beautiful woman rides on a horse across the waters carrying a golden apple, as Oisin and Niamh travel back to the Land of Youth (Heaney 217); Li Ban tells Cu Chulaind that Manannan has left Fand and takes him to their realm, populated by many (Gantz 159); Scathach and her tribe are at war with another tribe whose leader is Aoife (Heaney 96); the Cauldron of the Head of Hades has a fire beneath it which was kindled by the breath of nine maidens, giving us another clear example of the Nine Maiden Isle motif (Rhys 305). The evidence is overwhelmingly against the idea that any more than a small number of goddess figures in Celtic myths happen to be just variants of one singular personage. Given this conclusion, and especially considering these examples have been argued as influences for Le Morte Darthur’s “fae” figures, it makes more sense to analyze Malory’s different supernatural women as separately influenced. Despite all of this evidence to the contrary, some older analyses of these myths and legends still hold modern scholarship back. As an example, any Arthurian scholar can likely tell you one main influence regarded as absolute for the legends’ supernatural women is that of the Morrigan, a figure believed to be one tripartite war-goddess from ancient Irish mythology. The cognate connection to Morgan le Fay is obvious—however, apart from that, despite wide acceptance of this connection, the details of the literature simply do not support some of these claims. A closer examination reveals, though hardly acknowledged in scholarship, a simple and insightful alternative option—the Morrigan does not refer to one deity alone, but multiple deities which perform differing functions under the title of Morrigan, the epithet being generally accepted as meaning “Great Queen” (Herbert 142). Suddenly, reconciling the fertility aspects of this figure with its 35 35 war-like counterpart, or trying to keep track of the varying names which we are given for the Morrigan, becomes irrelevant. Despite how enlightening this view is, it is rarely considered as the reason behind the differing supernatural women in Arthurian legend, even when joined with contemplation of the Nine Maiden Isle motif. Historically, memorialization by equating someone’s title with their name is not unheard of, especially in Arthurian tradition; Vortigern would be an example of this (Ashe 10), and also his son Vortimer (Ashe 15). The most notable would be the successful warrior king Riothamus, believed by some historians to be a likely candidate for the “real” figure of King Arthur (Ashe 15). Given this information, it is not far-fetched to consider the name Morrigan as a title instead of a personal name, denoting several different figures as opposed to one faceted personage. In fact, the interpretation of Morrigan as “Great Queen” isn’t even set in stone, although it is the most used and accepted meaning; “Sea Queen” or “Phantom Queen” are also possibilities (Clark 56). If the exact meaning of the term is not completely definitive, there is no logical reason behind assuming it is a personal name and dismissing the possibility of it as a title for a plural constituency. Examples from the myths and stories support this claim more than others would expect: for instance during Cuchulainn’s death it is stated that both the Morrigu and Badb, two figures of the Morrigan, hover over him for three days until he passes (Heaney 153). Actually as Clark points out, “in early Irish literature there are three Morrigans and three Machas, and in many battle accounts badba flutter over the heads of the armies” (454). It is perplexing that some scholars cling to the idea that the Morrigan are one goddess alone given the evidence to the contrary. In another study, Gulermovich Epstein conducts a “cross 36 36 cultural comparison” focusing majorly on the Morrigan and Valkyries (43). During this analysis Gulermovich Epstein refers to the Morrigan as “a single class of malign beings performing a coherent function” (viii); the acknowledgement that Morrigan could be considered a plural title of sorts is refreshing to witness in Celtic studies. All of this analysis is important to remember when reviewing the specific instances of this plurality of goddesses, and the Nine Maiden Isle motif, in the Arthurian literatures. The main example of the motif occurs once again in the Vita Merlini where Taliesin and Merlin talk of nine sisters dwelling in Avalon (Berthelot 58), called Morgen, Moronoe, Mazoe, Gliten, Glitonea, Gliton, Tyronoe, Thiten and Thiton (Geoffrey, Vita Merlini 27). Berthelot believes that these sisters of Morgen from Avalon are all “exercises in doubling, variations on this one and only figure [of Morgen]” (58); however, this interpretation leaves out the fact that, when Morgen is included in the list of names, it becomes clear the names are not doubles but triplets, with Morgen being a part of one of the triplets of ‘M’ names. Separating Morgen from the entirety of her sisters erases this triplet effect, which seems a nonsensical act of analysis, and also severs the clearly defined connection between the text and the Nine Maiden Isle motif. The other Arthurian instance of the motif is more abstract than the explicit mention within the Vita Merlini: In the Queste du Saint Graal from the Vulgate Cycle, we’re told Evelac dreams that out of his brother Nascien came a great lake which nine streams came out of, one being bigger than the other eight (Lacy 4: 44). According to Evelac, Celidoine, Nascien’s son and apparently the first King of Scotland, is the lake, and his descendants are the streams, with Lancelot and Galahad included as important knights among the list of kings given (Lacy 4: 44). Although this example does not include an island or maidens, when one considers 37 37 the historical context of the narrative it becomes clear that this is yet another instance of the Nine Maiden Isle motif, merely being given a masculine and Christian coating. This is not the only example of such occurrences in the Vulgate and Post Vulgate cycles of the Holy Grail—the authors of the cycles are keen to distinguish what the term fairy means when associated with the Lady of the Lake; “fairy” is defined as a woman who has learned more information than the common people and therefore is considered magical by the ignorant masses (Berthelot 61). It is not a stretch to consider this instance involving Evelac and Lancelot as, essentially, Christian propaganda, removing the feminine and druidic aspects and stripping empowerment from the supernatural threats to the religious leaders of Britain. After all, the imagery of water and streams coming out of bellies is very heavily symbolic of femininity; interesting as well to consider is the fact that water is mainly associated in Arthurian legend with Morgan and the Lady of the Lake. In fact, Evelac is associated with Avallach or the supposed monarch/god of Avalon in some studies; his baptismal transformation into King Mordrain (Lacy 4: 44), as well as his brother Nascien, seems to be the Christian overhaul of these water associations. The baptismal names are also incredibly suspicious considering the importance placed on cognation in analysis of Arthurian figures, Morgan le Fay and Nenive in particular. The key to identifying this motif in Malory’s Le Morte Darthur, given that the number nine does not manifest itself specifically, lies in assessing the Isle of Avilion and the other supernatural realms in Malory’s narrative as being connected, as well as populated by a diverse group of mainly female-dominated domains. Kaufman describes Avalon as “an organization of women with power and political influence” (57). If Avalon is an organization of women, it stands to reason that these women preside over their own different realms, each one an 38 38 individual queen of sorts, and Malory’s text supports such a claim—The Lady of the Lake lives in a castle in an underwater rock (Malory 29), the lady Balin decapitates is from the Isle of Avilion (Malory 33), and Dame Lyonesse is the sister of Sir Gringamore, from the Isle of Avilion, and she is the queen of Castle Perilous (Malory 159). The surface interpretation of Malory’s supernatural women clearly reveals them as fairy figures. Lysaght stipulates how fairies interact with each other: “Fairies are imagined to be social beings, living in communities…they may have friendly as well as unfriendly relations with humans, and may even be engaged in love affairs with them” (30). This description fits Malory’s Morgan and Nenive, as well as other supernatural women, perfectly, highlighting their differences in a way which doesn’t negate how they are related to each other as well. Some scholars believe that the reason Morgan and Nenive appear divided, in a way, is “because they are pieces of the same whole” (Kaufman 64). While both Morgan and Nenive are influenced by several of the same goddesses and similar aspects of medieval myths, to regard Morgan and Nenive as one segmented figure completely strips the importance of their distinctions within Malory’s text. The two women are meant to clash in behavior, intention, and action, in order to balance Malory’s narrative and establish the existing power struggle between the different women of his Otherworldly realms. The first indication of Malory distinguishing his Otherworldly women happens immediately following the introduction of the Lady of the Lake. The palace which Merlin describes to Arthur, after seeing the sword sticking out of the water, is said to be “within” the lake (Malory 29), making it less likely to be an island and more likely to be underwater. This, right away, distinguishes this palace from Avalon, referenced not long after this in the narrative, in the 39 39 beginning of Balin’s tale. Malory makes sure to tell the reader that the damosel who comes to court with the cursed sword is of the “Lady l’Isle of Avilion” (33). What seems to be a small detail here changes the entire scholarly understanding of the Lady’s role in this tale. Malory would not need to establish these two locations as separate if the two women—the Lady of the Lake and the Lady l’Isle of Avilion—were not of two distinct realms. As seen throughout the narrative, Malory takes great pains to remind us exactly who Nenive is whenever she turns up in the story; it would be odd to believe that he would be so careless as to refer to the same character in such distinctly different ways. The Lady l’Isle of Avilion is “likely a sovereign authority in her own right” (Ewoldt 40), supporting an idea that Avalon, and the entire realm of Malory’s Otherworld, is far more complex than a simple castle under the water, instead a potential country in and of itself, with varying factions and governances competing with each other. Hodges argues that the Lady of the Lake and the Lady of l’Isle of Avilion are enemies, and that Morgan’s scheme for Accolon, and Nenive’s saving Arthur from the scheme, makes the former the successor of the Lady l’Isle of Avilion, and Nenive the successor of the first Lady of the Lake (79); according to Hodges Nenive “obviously appreciates prowess and worship,” whereas Morgan le Fay “turns against socially recognized bonds” altogether (85). Their differences make it more likely that they represent different ideals, and potentially different areas of the Otherworld altogether. Finally, another aspect which further supports this interpretation is that of Dame Lyonesse. Arthur Bernard Cook interprets the relationship between Lyonesse and Lunet, and Nenive as that of cousins (52). Although the relationship between Nenive and the sisters is never clearly defined by Malory, Lyonesse’s brother Gringamore is explicitly said to reside next to Avalon (159). Given the 40 40 fact that Lyonesse’s tale is echoed in many other myths from Celtic lore—like Oisin and Niamh releasing a queen of the Land of Virtue from the oppression of a Fomor (Heaney 218), or the Lady of the Fountain story from the Mabinogion (116-38)—this Dame Lyonesse representing yet another different part of Le Morte Darthur’s Otherworldly realm seems to fall in line accordingly. Interestingly enough, some scholars have tried to tie these figures to Morgan instead of Dame Lyonesse. One problem with equating Morgan with the Lady of the Fountain figure in the Mabinogion as well as Modron lies in the fact that many variations of this story involve Modron’s son as the hero whom the Lady of the Fountain loves and marries (Cook 36). It seems strange to argue Morgan is both mother and fairy lover to the hero in the same tale—the two positions are rather irreconcilable given the context of the cultures and the audiences of these narratives. Simply put, it’s clear from analysis of the Celtic influences on Arthurian literature, as well as careful scrutiny of that literature, that the Arthurian supernatural women were meant to be portrayed as part of a community, whether as a part of the Nine Maiden Isle motif or in general. It is folly to attempt to make the characters of Morgan le Fay, Dame Lyonesse and her sister Lunet, the Lady of the Lake and her possible enemy Lady l’Isle of Avilion, and Nenive, converge into one overarching goddess or queen figure; as Hodges explains, “conflating the[se] women defines them by their gender instead of their behavior and obscures the multiple roles they can play” (86). Instead of trying to sweep the multitudes of differing Celtic goddess and enchantress figures into one or two general archetypes, teasing out the separate entities and allowing them their own identities opens up a remarkably refreshing view of the corresponding characters in Arthurian tradition. With this in mind, in conjunction with the historical presence of druidism in Le Morte Darthur, we can delve much deeper into analysis of 41 41

Malory’s Nenive. We can now begin excavating a possible parallel/allusion that has rarely been considered for Nenive before: the presence of Boudicca in Nenive’s influences, and the subsequent interpretation of Nenive being directly inspired by the Iceni warrior queen.

CHAPTER 3: BOUDICCA’S PRESENCE IN NENIVE’S INFLUENCES AND CHARACTERISATION

Now that the historical context of druidism has been identified and expounded upon, and the multiplicity of the Otherworldly women with particular emphasis on a certain motif has been identified, we can consider more specific influential sources for Malory’s Lady of the Lake and Nenive. Guarded with this back knowledge, distinct and potent connections arise between Nenive and differing figures in Celtic mythology, in particular between her and Boudicca. Of course, “it is impossible to prove that two characters of two literatures so far apart in time, space, and culture are identified with each other” (Clark 476), as Clark reminds us, “we can only say that they represent similar creatures, and that the similarity…may demonstrate a connection” (476). Regardless, delving into such similarities for Nenive and the Lady of the Lake helps readers fully understand and appreciate Malory’s authorial intent, as well as the craftsmanship Malory displays by subtly weaving those influences into the narrative of Le Morte Darthur. With regards to Nenive it is clear that, as Holbrook puts it, “we have a character who is not cut from whole cloth, and the seams are visible” (765). However, recognizing such seams are present does not necessarily mean that the character is disjointed in depiction. Malory uses the varying influences for this character to create an entirely new and yet fully realized Nenive, and he does so with a specific purpose in mind, attempting to make a distinct impact on the minds of his fellow English citizens with his character by invoking Boudicca’s dominating warrior spirit through Nenive’s actions and behaviors. One breadcrumb in Malory’s precursory trail is the possible etymology of Nenive’s name, which British peoples may or may not have understood depending on their regions: apparently “the term nemed, meaning ‘holy’ in all the Celtic 43 43 languages, was intimately associated with pagan religion” (Morris 449). While all “the Celtic languages” could not possibly hold the same word for the same meaning, the word itself seems like an easy cognate for our character, considering several of her name variations. Not only that, but the word’s definition holds a clear pagan connection, suggesting more support that Nenive was influenced heavily by druidic practices and personages. However, it is equally important to remember as a scholar that “when scribal corruptions are taken into account, almost anything can happen to a name” (Loomis, “Some Names” 417); while keeping this in mind, an examination of possible influences of Malory’s Nenive still reveals valid contenders; the evidence for these possible influential figures ranges from cognation, to the description of their attributes, and finally to the specific actions Nenive performs within Malory’s narrative. Categorically, these influences are all either goddesses, fairy brides, or more ambiguously-labeled darker female entities in Celtic myths. There are a few Celtic as well as Ancient Greco-Roman goddesses which scholars have connected to Nenive throughout the years. Kaufman compares Athena to Nenive, drawing parallels between Nenive hanging Aunowre’s head on her saddle and Athena mounting Medusa’s head on her aegis (65). Interestingly enough, the Roman version of Athena—Minerva—is mentioned in the Historia Brittonum as the patron of Bath (Geoffrey, Historia Brittonum 80); Geoffrey also mentions that Bladud, Bath’s supposed namesake, widely encouraged necromantic practices and druidic behaviors throughout his associated lands (Historia Brittonum 81). The possible Greco-Roman influences continue with Nenive’s association with Diana the Huntress, a connection drawn mostly from Nenive’s depiction in the Grail cycles. Berthelot takes this connection too far, however, calling both Nenive and Diana intruders on their respective stories (60). While 44 44

Nenive isn’t singled out in the earlier Arthurian texts, categorizing her as an intruder is a faulty argument when one considers the Nine Maiden Isle motif, and remembers that there are different factions within the Otherworldly realms, even the Arthurian Otherworld, which could hold different citizens and monarchs than Morgan le Fay. These goddesses are important analogues to note for Nenive as they influenced her character before Malory’s version of her, and Malory doubtless took these earlier depictions into consideration. Moving into more Celtic figures, an addition to this list of goddesses is the Irish Morrigan, specifically Nemain, who possesses many apparent parallels to Malory’s Nenive character. Through specific actions in the fight between Accolon and Arthur, as well as further evidence outside of the text itself, Nenive displays some characteristics which are remarkably similar to those of this Irish figure. The Morrigan, and in particular the figure of Nemain, was known for screeching battle-cries, which could unsettle warriors into frenzied panic and even force them to turn on their own troops or themselves (Gulermovich Epstein 104). Nenive has a similar, albeit less drastic, effect on Accolon during his battle with King Arthur when she uses her powers to confuse Accolon, causing Excalibur to fall from Accolon’s hand toward Arthur (Malory 67). The resemblance between Nenive and Nemain doesn’t end here: despite the clear representation of Nemain as something horrid or venomous (Gulermovich Epstein 54), there is also the possibility that, etymologically, the root of the name could be linked to “sanctuary” or “sacred” (Gulermovich Epstein 74), and even to “water” (Gulermovich Epstein 56). Other sources, such as the Lebor Gabala Erenn, depict Nemain’s abilities as connected with prophetic powers (Gulermovich Epstein 60); considering Nenive’s own demonstrations of prophetic abilities—such as knowing when to save Arthur during the battle of Accolon (Malory 65), or that Morgan’s 45 45 gift of the mantle would kill whoever wore it (Malory 73)—this marks another similarity between Nenive and Nemain. In fact, one source even connects Nemain with “judicial” or “law-giv[ing]” (Gulermovich Epstein 201), adjectives reminiscent of Nemesis, another goddess whose similar attributes to Nenive will be discussed shortly. Finally, Nemain is listed as one of the seven sorceresses of the Tuatha de Danann, and while the number is off, the appearance begs association with the Nine Maiden Isle motif (Gulermovich Epstein 202). In short, not all of the different Morrigan figures resemble Malory’s Nenive, but Nemain’s functions and attributes do seem to come the closest to her. There is one last goddess which seems to have played a bigger role in influencing Malory’s Nenive than all the others. As Berthelot briefly mentions, the Lady of the Lake bears some resemblance to Nemesis (77). A goddess worshipped as far back as the archaic period, Nemesis is a huge contender for being one of the main sources for Nenive’s presence in Arthurian legend. Depicted at times holding an apple branch and connected with the nymph Adrasteia, artifacts depicting this goddess in plural forms have been found dating very close to the first century A.D. (Lloyd-Morgan 120-1). There’s even an inscription dedicated to Nemesis found in Hadrian’s Wall, where Coventina’s Well is located (Lloyd-Morgan 123). Coventina’s Well is located in an area which scholars have connected to the battle of Camlann, where Arthur is slain (Morris 140), and some believe the origin of the goddess’s name derives from ‘coven’ (Allason-Jones 109), making the location and goddess also linked with the Nine Maiden Isle motif. In other Arthurian locations in Britain, Nemesis inscriptions are found in amphitheaters, one being on a curse tablet in Caerleon (Lloyd- Morgan 124). The curse tablet could indicate possible druidism, given the well- known druidic usage of these kinds of objects, which is yet another association to 46 46 our character, as druidic influence upon Nenive has already been discussed. Further historical analysis later in this study will make a strong case that this goddess is intricately linked with both Boudicca and Nenive. All of these goddess figures are definitely echoed in Nenive’s behavior throughout Malory’s story, and their influence should be noted without attempts to combine these figures into some amalgamation of a singular goddess. The next supernatural level down from goddesses is the idea of fairies, and the Fairy Bride figure in Celtic myth is one of the most numerous and varying of them all. This figure is yet another influence upon Nenive’s characterization, which Malory utilizes in a few ways. When analyzing a Fairy Bride personage, it’s important to remember that a “notable quality of the Fairy Bride is her assertiveness” (Wood 63); Nenive, most scholars agree, has assertiveness in spades. With regards to Arthurian literature, which has distinctive links to Wales, Juliette Wood reminds us that “the Welsh variants [of the Fairy Bride] form a unique sub-group in that the woman is not in mermaid or animal shape and she sets the conditions under which she will remain” (58). Specifically, these details of the Fairy Bride figure relate to Nenive’s interference with and eventual marriage to Sir Pelleas; not only is she the person who initially orchestrates their relationship, but Malory reminds us in several points in the narrative that Sir Pelleas remains under Nenive’s care and protection, rather than the other way around (464; 517). Ultimately, associating Nenive with a Fairy Bride motif sheds light on many other possible influences Malory could have pulled from when crafting his independent and assertive chief Lady of the Lake. Specific Fairy Brides in Celtic myth particularly resonate with Nenive as a character in Arthurian legend. For instance, Niamh of the Golden Hair approaches the Irish hero Finn, saying she is a princess and her father is the king of the Land 47 47 of Youth, and that she’s in love with Oisin (Heaney 215). Ellis connects Nenive with Niamh, who is a daughter of the god of the sea and one of the queens of Tír na nÓg, the land of eternal youth (63). Another possible influential character from Irish mythology is Aranrhod daughter of Don; when she crosses over a magic wand she drops two babies, one called Dylan, who immediately goes to the sea and jumps in and becomes like a fish (Davies 54). The water dynamic of these two personages suggests an association with Nenive, albeit a superficial one. Ewoldt appears unafraid to shake up the commonly accepted analogues between Morgan le Fay and Nenive, linking the latter with the Great Mother Modron by comparing Nenive’s brachet and hunting hounds (Malory 54), to Modron’s hunting dogs (Ewoldt 37). Since Modron is normally called a variant of Morgan le Fay, Ewoldt’s bold connection of this figure to Nenive is noteworthy. Lastly, yet not the least significant, the queen Rhiannon from the Mabinogion is a character which can be effectively associated with Nenive. Rhys makes a logical argument for Nenive’s name being derived from the character of Rhiannon in the first place, based on the prototype of ‘ninien’ for both and considering the common letters confused with each other by medieval scribes (284). According to Sioned Davies Rhiannon derives from a Celtic goddess Rigantona meaning the “Great Queen or the Divine Queen” (230), which interestingly ties the character to the Morrigan figures in Irish myths. Rhiannon is also linked with birds, another aspect of the Morrigan; the birds of Rhiannon “wake the dead and lull the living to sleep” (Davies 196). Within her branch of the Mabinogion, Rhiannon makes the meeting with Pwyll a year from the day they confess their love to each other (Davies 11), which is reminiscent of Dame Lyonesse sending Gareth away for a year to seek adventure before he can be worthy of her love. All in all, the abundance of relevant fairy bride figures which resonate in Malory’s Le Morte 48 48

Darthur, and in particular with Nenive, are significant enough to merit mention within the scholarship of this character. The last class of supernatural being which potentially influenced Malory’s Nenive is darker than those previously mentioned. In Celtic myths there are those goddess/otherworldly women figures which hold some specific connections with Nenive. Lysaght describes a being typically referred to as a “death-messenger,” stating that although it is “never thought of as a water being, [the feminine death- messenger] is more commonly imagined to appear close to water, at lakes, rivers or wells” (129). The death-messenger beings, more simply named as banshees or Washers at the Ford, were not just associated with water but also “symbolized… [the person receiving attention’s] rightful title to [the land] as opposed to the claims of usurping foreigners” (Lysaght 206). Nenive’s presence during King Arthur’s escort to Avalon after his fatal wounds in Camlann is Le Morte Darthur’s equivalent of this death-messenger attribute (Malory 517). Related to the banshee is the Morrigan goddess Nemain, previously referred to with regards to the confusion her cries can cause in soldiers during battle. Despite a common representation of the Morrigan and of Nemain as something horrid or venomous (Gulermovich Epstein 54), there is also the possibility that, etymologically, the root of the name Nemain could be linked to “sanctuary” or “sacred” as noted earlier in the Old Irish word nemed (Gulermovich Epstein 74), and even to “water” in some instances (Gulermovich Epstein 56); both of these etymologies have already been tied to Nenive’s characterization through druidic influence and association with water figures. Other sources connect Nemain’s etymology with “judicial” or “law-giv[ing]” (Gulermovich Epstein 201), adjectives again reminiscent of Nenive as well as Nemesis. Finally, with regards to Arthurian legend specifically, Ellis adds to this group of darker figures by linking Nenive 49 49 and Myrddin’s sister Gwendydd/Ganieda in the Vita Merlini (63). Berthelot agrees with this connection, stating Ganieda is “the prototype of the feminine figure whose presence runs parallel to Merlin’s story” (58), as Nenive’s does. Although Ganieda is not necessarily a dark character, her ambiguous druidic affiliations in the text puts her more in line with the shadowy characters of the Morrigan and the banshee than the other categories. The multitudes of possible influences given here reflect a rich background in Celtic, and even other cultures’, mythology. It’s unclear whether Malory would have had sources pertaining to these figures at his disposal when writing Le Morte Darthur, but the abundance of textual and circumstantial links between them and Malory’s work is striking. Then again, it’s also likely that Malory gained his knowledge of these myths from earlier literary texts, particularly Arthurian ones such as the Vulgate and Post-Vulgate cycles or Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Brittonum, rather than from direct exposure to the myths themselves. However he discovered them, when considering Malory’s characterization of Nenive, these influences seem closer to the surface than one would initially perceive. Identifying these influences is only a part of the equation which makes up this character’s intricately crafted portrayal, however. Now that they have been expounded upon, further analysis can proceed with regards to even more parallels between historical Celtic Britain and Malory’s eventual chief Lady of the Lake. Specifically, one historical figure holds distinctive connections with all of these religious, mythological, and literary influences described thus far, and delving into the details regarding this iconic woman brings all of them together into a honed, symbolic point in Malory’s Nenive. One significant question seems to be at the heart of Arthurian legend with regards to this study: “Do the women who appear in Celtic mythology simply 50 50 occupy positions idealised by the early storytellers or do they represent the women of practical, everyday Celtic life?” (Ellis 41). If this question is applied to Nenive in Le Morte Darthur, there is definitely one key historical figure which answers this question with a resounding yes. This woman is Boudicca, the Iceni warrior queen from the first century A.D., who stood up to the Roman invaders of Britain and very nearly won freedom for her people and Britannia as a whole. Women figures like Boudicca indicate it is entirely possible that the women and goddesses in these Celtic myths, and specifically in the Arthurian literatures, could well be derived from historical personages. It is time for scholars of the Arthurian legends, particularly in Le Morte Darthur, to “reconsider women as a force…not as the submerged, repressed ‘feminine,’ but as executors of organized efforts for female sovereignty who can function as sites of resistance to patriarchal supremacy” (Kaufman 57). It doesn’t take many steps to link Nenive with the Iceni warrior queen Boudicca, as they both perform these same functions Kaufman mentions above, and Malory clearly intended for Nenive to exude these attributes. It would be a mark of an adept story teller to use such a figure as Boudicca, given her separation from Malory by over a millennium, as fuel for a parallel literary figure in a tale dealing much with the same values and ideals as the warrior queen upheld. With the discovery of Tacitus’s writings—the source of most textual Boudiccan information—between 1410 and 1430 (Dudley and Webster 115), it is not impossible that Malory could have been exposed to their depiction of this Brittonic war queen and her exploits before his eventual completion of Le Morte Darthur in 1470. Malory, especially with regards to Nenive and his Otherworldly characters, is clearly engaging “the diachronic axis, which highlight[s] the perfection of a distant golden age for the purpose of illuminating the inadequacies of the synchronic hegemony” (Wynne-Davies 132); 51 51 this subtle attempt at harkening to an older, seemingly brighter past in order to alleviate or magnify the problems of the present, is apparently a “recurrent theme in Arthurian literature” in general (Wynne-Davies 132). Considering the back- and-forth nature of British rule throughout the first millennium AD, it would not have taken Malory a huge leap to connect his circumstances within the time of the War of the Roses to that of Arthurian legend, nor subsequently the beloved tales of King Arthur to the more ancient memory of a major British defender and warrior queen. By using Boudicca as influence and inspiration for his depiction of Nenive, Malory utilizes knowledge of this historical warrior queen “not just as an inheritance of belief, but as an area in which the immediate social context itself can be examined” (Wood 59). Boudicca, to this day, is considered as “a symbol of…those oppressed by empires” (Snyder 11). Just as Boudicca was fighting for the independence of her people from Roman rule, the mythical Arthur is depicted in his legends as standing up for the British nation against many enemies, from the Anglo-Saxons to more fantastical beasts. Nenive’s presence in Le Morte Darthur can be seen as Malory’s way of giving supernatural, even divine support of that nationalistic cause both Arthur and Boudicca fought for. It is not a surprise that Malory could make a connection between Boudicca and the actions of some of the women in Arthurian tradition: “[Women] could govern, took prominent roles in political, religious and artistic life, even becoming judges and law-givers” in ancient and earlier medieval Celtic societies (Ellis 18). Boudicca represented to the Iceni all of these things described here—governance, politics, religion, and law. As Morris states, “The core of the [Arthurian] stories has always been melancholy regret for a strong and just ruler who protected his people against barbarism without and oppression within, but was in the end defeated,” and Malory was writing his version of this story “for readers weighed 52 52 down by the licence of barons” (119). As “some of the legendary companions of the Round Table may have lived at other times and places, and the origin of many is unexplained” (Morris 119), Nenive would not have been the only character of Malory’s influenced by persons or events outside of Arthur’s accepted timeline; Tristan, for instance, according to Morris was “an ordinary mid sixth-century British kinglet…and lived three generations after Arthur” (118). While important at times, questions of timelines with regard to narrative influences can sometimes hold a scholar back from making remarkable and refreshing connections. The links between Boudicca and the other influences Malory utilized are abundant. For instance, Boudicca’s Rebellion against the Roman conquest of Britain was definitely linked with druidism (Aldhouse-Green 159), giving us the first tie-in with influential material for Nenive. Dudley and Webster remark that a “powerful stimulant of anger [was] the Roman attack on…the Druidic religion, the vital element in the native Celtic culture” (53), allowing the druids to use their “political influence…to urge the other civitates to join Boudic[c]a” (53). In fact, Boudicca herself acted as her tribe’s priestess at times (Aldhouse-Green 132), invoking goddesses during celebrations and feasts. She was considered dangerous, “and presented such a threat to romanitas that Nero seriously considered letting go…of Britannia altogether” (Aldhouse-Green 116). Boudicca’s first campaign against the Romans came about because of Suetonius Paulinus’s previously discussed preoccupation with the druids in Wales. Camulodunum, “the administrative capital of the new Roman imperial province of Britain,” was Boudicca’s first target in her rebellion, where she “annihilated” the Roman legion, forcing them to take shelter in the Temple of Claudius (Ellis 88-9). Arguments have linked Camulodunum to Arthur’s legendary Camelot (Morris 138), giving Boudicca an interesting connection with the realm. Malory could 53 53 have understood the connections between Camelot and the ancient warrior queen and used the information to fuel Nenive’s character, giving her a deeper shade of liberating nationalism, which was already associated with the Arthurian legends. As far as Boudicca’s druidess position, the victorious queen, “after committing unspeakable acts of bestiality towards Roman Londoners” celebrated her victory within the sacred grove in London by conducting more druidic practices (Aldhouse-Green 132). This ferocious savagery against a defeated enemy is echoed in Nenive’s insistence that the sorceress Aunowere’s head hang from her saddle as she and Arthur ride back to Camelot (Kaufman 65)—it was her mark of victory, or “trophy” as Ewoldt describes it (44), a brutal depiction of what was common practice after hard-won battles. Evidence of severed head cults remaining in Britain after Boudicca’s time makes it possible that Malory would know of this practice (Snyder 53), and the spearing of severed enemies’ heads on spikes were associated with Macha (Dudley and Webster 152), one of the goddesses associated with the Morrigan. Essentially, this recurrent practice links Nenive with Boudicca as well as druidism and her other goddess influences. The idea of women conducting themselves in battle or exerting autonomy was not as uncommon in medieval times as one would expect; as Ewoldt explains, “when her husband was gone, the men-at-arms and administrative clerks answered to her instead” (17). There were some people in the medieval era who did believe a woman needed to handle more than the designated feminine roles in society, those who recognized “the necessity of women to engage in warfare in certain situations, especially in instances when a lady was protecting her holdings and her children” (Ewoldt 17). It seems likely Malory was exposed to these ideas when considering his characterization of Nenive in particular. In medieval Welsh law, apparently, “there is an office which is described as arglwyddes, ‘a female lord’ or 54 54

‘the chieftain of a district in her own right’” (Ellis 78). Ellis believes that this concept is far older than simply medieval, linking it to Boudicca (78), and the title of “chieftain/chief” is used by Malory to describe Nenive’s position in the society of the Ladies of the Lake (517). Nenive, according to Kaufman, “incorporate[s] female power into the realm of real rule rather than forbidden rebellion” (65). With this in mind, an argument could even be made that Malory is attempting through his characterization of Nenive to give Boudicca the success she deserved after her hard won victories and dedication to British independence. Boudicca’s status as both lawful and religious leader for her tribe was less abnormal than one would expect. According to Snyder druids were “intermediaries between their communities and the gods, performing sacrifices and other religious rites as well as settling legal disputes” (20). This applied to women as well as men, apparently; Choronzy tells us that women “were…defined as the ambassadors of a tribe and involved in political counsels…there existed Druidesses, who were looked upon by the Romans as witches, but these women were allowed to partake in Celtic religious practices” (70). In order to combat the fear the public had for these witch-like characters, it appears that Malory changed their status to fairy-like enchantresses of a far-away Otherworld, thereby lessening the threatening aspects; also, by keeping Morgan within her more sinister characterization, Malory balances his inclusion of Boudiccan influences within Nenive, keeping critical eye toward the witch-like Morgan and away from the subversive political and religious implications of Nenive’s character. Even Boudicca’s nomenclature connects her to the other influences on Nenive which have been identified. The name ‘Boudicca,’ notwithstanding the normal medieval tendency to create spelling variants upon a core name/word, may in fact be a title or epithet, derived from a Celtic word meaning “victory” (Snyder 55 55

40), and she and her tribe performed rites in celebration of the goddess Andraste, which also meant victory (Aldhouse-Green 132). Andraste is likely the same southeastern Gallic war goddess of the Vocontii, Andarta (Dudley and Webster 68), and an argument could be made for Andraste being a cognate to Adrasteia, the nymph associated with Nemesis. Given the other links between Nemesis and Boudicca already made, this further possible association is interesting to consider. Also, inscriptions with Nemesis’s name have been found in Britain dating very close to the first century A.D., which was Boudicca’s time (Lloyd-Morgan 120-1). Nemesis isn’t the only goddess with connections to both Nenive and Boudicca— Brigit falls into many other aspects of this argument which have already been noted, for instance her judicial/advisory position. Her name was also “probably an epithet” as it meant “Exalted One” and, though clearly not the only name for these figures, this epithet was referenced as synonymous with other goddesses so often as to make the matter confusing (Ellis 27), in a similar manner as the different goddesses under the Morrigan title. Gulermovich Epstein even makes connections between Boudicca and the Morrigan through the latter’s invocation of Andraste, considering the meaning of “victory” associated with all of the figures (225), and so do Dudley and Webster: “the trio of war/fertility goddesses from Ireland must be considered as having been closely similar to Andrasta…all concerned with influencing the outcome of battle by magic, proclaiming victories from the hilltops, foretelling future evil…The great goddess of the Iceni was presumably a goddess such as these” (151). There is an established relationship between Brigit and Boudicca which Aldhouse-Green touches on (126), furthering the argument for Boudicca’s association with the Nine Maiden Isle motif, as Brigit was connected with it earlier in this study. In addition, Scathach is sometimes referred to as Scathach Buanann, meaning “Victorious,” although some think this may be a 56 56 combination of Scathach with the separate warrior Buadna or “Victorious Lady” (Ellis 73). These numerous examples are hard to ignore when looked at all together, and applying them to the other influences of Nenive as well as the character herself illuminates their narrative significance in Le Morte Darthur. Boudicca’s relationship with these figures is like threads in a web which are attached to even more connections to Nenive and her influences. There were other women figures in European history who, during Boudicca’s time, were also being revered as priestesses, war advisors, and even living goddesses; in Celtic Britain leading up to the first century A.D., there was apparently “a social environment in which women could and did achieve high—and arguably independently high— status,” and that such an environment “might represent the backdrop against which Boudic[c]a could become one of the greatest threats the Roman political and military machine ever encountered” (Aldhouse-Green 94). One of these higher status women is Veleda of the German Bructeri, who was held as a prophetess, and was considered divine (Aldhouse-Green 108). She was held in a high tower and was never seen by her followers, as she would have a relative relay messages to and from her, much like priests delivering the messages of their deities (Aldhouse-Green 110). Aldhouse-Green compares Veleda with the Delphic priestess of Apollo, Pythia, as well as other holy women in the ancient Mediterranean world (111). While Veleda and Boudicca likely never knew of each other, much less met, they share a bond through simultaneous existence with each other, and also with Pomponius Mela’s nine priestesses of Sena—in other words, one of the oldest Nine Maiden Isle references was made during the same time period in which Boudicca was staging her rebellion, making a strong case for Boudicca’s possible influence upon the origin of this motif. 57 57

An interesting link between the Iceni and the Nine Maiden Isle motif exists with regards to more than just other historical figures: a structure in Britain called the Thetford enclosure has some characteristics worth noting in this argument. With “nine parallel palisades…erected…rearing up, on the relatively steep-sided Gallows Hill,” the Thetford enclosure is reputed as “perhaps…acting as a kind of artificial sacred grove” (Aldhouse-Green 162). This structure was apparently so important to the Iceni tribe that when the Romans finally defeated Boudicca, the Thetford enclosure was “systematically dismantled” as if it “had never existed” (Aldhouse-Green 163). Considering the repeating number nine by itself makes for a weak link, but when added to the other connections between Boudicca and Arthurian legend this instance falls into a larger pattern that cannot be ignored. Also, this act of dismantling as opposed to burning or abandoning was used on such places as Emain Macha of the Irish deities discussed in this study, as well as Dun Ailinne, “a site of major importance in the Iron Age” and—ironically, considering Avalon’s etymological association with apples—home of “Aillenn’s Appletree” (Condren 66-7). Interestingly enough, Dun Ailinne was located near Kildare, the place where Merlin is said to have taken the stones used for Stonehenge (Condren 67). Both the possible Avalon link with Dun Ailinne and the Arthurian druidic connection with Stonehenge support a possible association to Nenive, and the act of dismantling druidic holy places clearly connects with the Iceni and Boudicca. Over three hundred years after the Thetford dismantling, someone or some people deposited, in what appears to be a ritualistic act recognizing the sanctity of the place or to appease the associated deities, a large cache of treasure at the Thetford location (Aldhouse-Green 163). While this instance lacks the presence of a body of water, the deposition is still a similarity that cannot be ignored. So, once more there are overlapping practices and events 58 58 which Arthurian legend and Boudicca’s history, in this case in association with her tribe, both contain. Even after Boudicca’s death, her impact upon the mythology of the surrounding cultures and especially Arthurian legend continued to abound. Stonehenge, Merlin’s creation, was considered a likely location for the warrior queen’s grave (Aldhouse-Green 249). Her spirit pervaded myths, and claims of her restless ghost wandering the lands may have contributed to local legends, specifically with regards to the keening-woman figure (Aldhouse-Green 249). Possibly, it could even be argued that Boudicca’s renown contributed to similar goddess figures in Britain as the Morrigan from Ireland. The impact this warrior queen had on British culture is clearly hard to measure by any one standard, and such a figure in Celtic-Britain’s history surely remained imprinted on these peoples’ psyche. For Malory to use such knowledge in creating an independently sovereign, supernaturally superior, and strategically intelligent woman character shows incredible authorial craftsmanship. The influence of Boudicca reveals itself through Le Morte Darthur in a variety of ways, arguably from the very first appearance of Nenive, even if we don’t know who she is yet. Ewoldt believes the kidnapping episode during King Arthur’s wedding feast “has a staged quality” (41); while “staged” feels a little presumptuous, recognizing the strangeness of Nenive being kidnapped is insightful when comparing it to the rest of Nenive’s actions within the text. The knight is “all armed on a great horse” when he “[takes] the lady away with force with him” (Malory 55), and we are told that Nenive “cried and made great dole” (Malory 55). There is a possibility, if Malory’s construction of Nenive has been influenced by Boudicca, Malory could be paralleling the warrior queen’s tragic beginnings to her rebellion—the raping of her daughters upon the acquisition of 59 59

Iceni land by Nero’s imperial procurator: “These men grabbed the estates of the Icenian nobles and treated them like slaves. When the widowed queen Boudic[c]a resisted, she was publicly stripped and flogged by the procurator’s slaves while her two daughters were raped” (Snyder 39). This disturbing event might have been too much for Malory to tolerate, therefore having the opening scene for Nenive’s character depict a less extreme version of Boudicca’s own opening, raping becoming “raping” or “kidnapping.” Possibly then, in order to supplement his censorship of this event, Malory included Merlin’s exhaustive sexual advances upon Nenive instead of allowing full rape in the narrative; Malory does tell us that “oftentimes Merlin would have had her privily away by his subtle crafts…And always he lay about to have her maidenhood, and she was ever passing weary of him” (58-9). The respectful approach by Malory to this subject is admirable, and aligns well with his subsequent treatment of Nenive’s character and his purpose behind it. Many instances of Boudicca’s connections to Malory happen through Nenive’s relationship with Merlin. One of these links deals, again, with Nenive’s opening scene in the narrative; when she bursts into King Arthur’s feast, Nenive is chasing a stag (Malory 54). Kaufman argues that Merlin’s association with the stag in the Vita Merlini is the reason behind the one used for Nenive’s entrance (58). Merlin is not only associated with a stag, however, but also a wolf in the Vita Merlini. This, according to Choronzy, “suggests Merlin’s mastery over the animal kingdom” (75), supporting the Wild Man interpretation of the character in that text. The wolf is the animal identified with the Iceni tribe (Aldhouse-Green 241), imprints of the animal showing up on archeological pieces like Iceni coins; in fact, Boudicca is said to have made the declaration to her warriors “[the Romans] are hares and foxes trying to rule over dogs and wolves” (Dudley and 60 60

Webster 72). Also, Nenive’s narrative entrance not only includes a stag but a “brachet” and other hunting dogs as well (Malory 54). So, the two animals corresponding to Merlin’s depiction in the Vita Merlini link to Boudicca, and Nenive from Le Morte Darthur. While this may seem a roundabout connection, when taken into consideration with the numerous other examples of Boudicca’s Arthurian influence, this is a piece of the puzzle which fits perfectly. Another figure which belies Boudicca’s presence within Malory’s text is King Claudas, whose overbearing and threatening presence within the narrative is reminiscent of the Roman Empire’s Claudius. In the narrative, Merlin and Nenive depart together from Camelot and visit a King Ban, who is having “great war against King Claudas” (Malory 58); it is likely when they are here that Nenive christens Lancelot as Lancelot du Lac, as they meet him and Merlin prophecies to his mother about his greatness (Malory 58). Interestingly enough, after Boudicca’s first successful battle in Camulodonum—again, a contender for the historical Camelot (Morris 138)—the Romans actually retreat to the Temple of Claudius, where they are followed by Boudicca and attacked again (Ellis 89). The movements of Nenive, in other words, mirror the warpath Boudicca paved during her rebellion. If one considers, then, Merlin and Nenive’s travels as corresponding to Boudicca’s timeline, Nenive’s entrapment of Merlin in the stone could be considered the end of her war campaign. It is after Merlin is locked away that Malory then brings Nenive’s character to life, giving her political wisdom, independently acquired sovereignty, a strong nationalist ally in King Arthur, and a lover whom she is entirely capable of keeping safe from harm—all things which Boudicca, although claiming some of these aspects during her rebellion, was deprived of at one time or another. Nenive becomes, essentially, Malory’s homage to Boudicca’s memory, and he weaves this beautifully through the 61 61 narrative of Le Morte Darthur, harkening Boudicca’s attributes while maintaining Nenive as her own character. Boudicca was a formidable Roman foe, a British warrior, and a fearless leader of her people—Malory could not have chosen a better inspiration for his chief Lady of the Lake, Nenive. The two women share similarities which are unmistakable when analyzed all together. Through druidism and pagan goddess worship, Boudicca’s religious and supernatural aspects shine through Nenive’s enchantress identity and druidic practices. As the chief Lady of the Lake and advisor to King Arthur, Nenive’s political position mirrors Boudicca’s historical and mythological role as both a queen and a woman of judgment. Aldhouse- Green reminds us that “More than all this, [Boudicca] was British; she represented Britannia, a shadowy island lurking beyond the boundaries of the world” (116), and Nenive’s affiliation with the faraway Otherworldly island of Avalon holds the same mystique in Malory’s well-crafted Arthurian text, inspiring both fear and awe of those who dwell there, the powers they possess, and the ideas they represent. The Lady of the Lake, despite inspiring the least amount of scholarly interest out of all Malory’s characters, is perhaps the most complexly influenced character from Malory’s epic tales. Many studies and interpretations have been conducted upon the Celtic sources of the Arthurian legends and its key players; the woman which scholars most particularly focus on tend to be Morgan le Fay, and although discussion of the Lady of the Lake often is necessary in these instances, the Lady in her own right is never given much of a spotlight outside of her relationship with Morgan. Admittedly many of their analogues overlap, but not all of them, and generally the conclusions focus on Morgan as the greater figure of the two, with the Lady often labeled as stealing Morgan’s mythological thunder, 62 62 so to speak. This does an extreme disservice to the character as well as Malory, as it implies the rich development of the Lady and her world was merely secondary in Malory’s text, or really just stolen from Morgan’s background and handed to the Lady instead. With Arthurian scholarship on the rise, it is important to question more dated sources of analysis concerning these women characters. Wood states the reasoning behind this plainly: “Undoubtedly tales get lost during the process of transmission and great light can be thrown on them by careful study, but not…by juggling together analogues regardless of regional or temporal differences and reconstructing a Celtic original” (59). Rather than trying to reduce these characters to one origin or one influential figure, looking at all the possible variables which went into their creation is a great way to refresh and redefine Arthurian literature in modern academia. Origins of the Celtic literatures and mythologies are virtually unknown, and attributing influence of one legend or story to another is majorly educated guesswork (Hutton, Witches 57). The Ladies of the Lake in Malory’s Le Morte Darthur have numerous, diverse influences. Malory achieves probably the greatest distinction between the two characters than his predecessors, drawing from many areas of influence to create a uniquely respectable woman character in Nenive, the eventual chief Lady of the Lake. The historical, political, and religious aspects of druidism during the medieval period pervade Arthurian legend. Through these aspects, many different pagan goddesses, supernatural figures, and magical practices culminate in Malory’s Nenive. “Mythology is the stuff of continuity, not consistency” (Gulermovich Epstein 307), and these continuous threads, while some may not be consistent in their direct details, have clearly been woven together by Malory into a complex character meant to both 63 63 harken back to past figures of tragic heroism, and inspire hope for a British future ruled by strong, intelligent, just, and dependable leaders.

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