When we left Arthur in Geoffrey of Monmouth, he had just come to the throne, acclaimed by all the Britons. After that, he spends some time putting Britain in order, then subduing Norway, Gaul, and Dacia, all of which seems relatively effortless. Now Arthur is a glorious prince and a figure to be reckoned with; in fact, he might almost be forgiven for lamenting, like Alexander, that there are no more worlds to conquer. It’s time for a new plot device to come out of nowhere.
At his moment of highest triumph, then, a letter is brought in from Lucius, the emperor of Rome, who demands tribute. Britain has owed tribute since Julius Caesar, Lucius says, and it’s about time the arrears were paid off.
After consulting with his best warriors, Arthur decides to send back a royal raspberry as his reply, and demands tribute of the Romans instead. Them’s fightin’ words, and both sides prepare for a gigantic battle. Arthur, preparing to meet Lucius on his own turf, leaves the kingdom in the hands of his nephew Modred.
When the two sides meet, the Britons defeat the Romans in a pair of great battles fought mostly by means of inspiring speeches. But just at the moment of triumph, news comes in that Modred, in Arthur’s absence, has taken the crown for himself—and the queen, too, while he was at it. Arthur hurries back and defeats and kills Modred, but is mortally wounded himself. He turns over the kingdom to Constantine, his relative, and is carried off to Avalon to be healed.
That’s the story of Arthur in Geoffrey, and the question we have to ask is whether there’s any history in it.
