English history is indeed a rich. I find the earlier history of these islands most interesting, pre Roman especially. In fact the village where I live now seems to have been inhabited for 3-4000 years plus. Perhaps the most interesting thing is thanks to archaeology I have watched history change. As we learn more, what I was taught as a child has changed. For example, I was taught before the Romans arrived these islands were populated by warring primitive tribes. A history written by the Romans. In fact we now know the tribes were mostly peaceful, elected leaders and had laws. They had more advanced farming methods than in Europe, exported cloth and imported wine. More farmer and trader than primitive wild men.
Indeed true, Tranter. Certainly, there were conflicts between the various British tribes occasionally before the Romans came, but it was generally not as barbaric and chaotic as the Romans perceived it. The Roman era is one of the most interesting to me, from the time Julius Caesar first set foot in Britain in 55 BCE, until the last of the legions was withdrawn in 410 CE under the Emperor Honorius. The Romans ruled at least parts of Britain for over 460 years, and left their imprint on the island forever. What is also fascinating is what happened in the first few centuries after the Roman withdrawal, setting the conditions for what eventually became Medieval Britain, particularly the invasion of the Saxon peoples. There is a novel written by Rosemary Sutcliff that I suspect you would enjoy greatly. It's entitled, "Sword at Sunset." It tells the story of what
might have happened in that chaotic time, and where the basis of the Legend of King Arthur might have come from. It is, of course, a fictional tale, but she makes it quite believable, and bases her story on actual events that are known to historians. She suggests that Arthur might well have been a Romano-British war leader fighting to keep the last vestiges of Roman civilization alive in the face of the invading Saxon hordes. It's one of my favorite novels. Below is a poem written by Francis Brett Young that is included in the preface of the book. It is quite beautiful, I think, and sort of summarizes the story:
Hic Jacet Arthurus Rex Quondam Rexque Futurus (That translates as "Here Lies Arthur, the Once and Future King)
Arthur is gone . . . Tristram in Careol
Sleeps, with a broken sword - and Yseult sleeps
Beside him, where the Westering waters roll
Over drowned Lyonesse to the outer deeps.
Lancelot is fallen . . . The ardent helms that shone
So knightly and the splintered lances rust
In the anonymous mould of Avalon:
Gawain and Gareth and Galahad - all are dust.
Where do the vanes and towers of Camelot
And tall Tintagel crumble? Where do those tragic
Lovers and their bright eyed ladies rot?
We cannot tell, for lost is Merlin's magic.
And Guinevere - Call her not back again
Lest she betray the loveliness time lent
A name that blends the rapture and the pain
Linked in the lonely nightingale's lament.
Nor pry too deeply, lest you should discover
The bower of Astolat a smokey hut
Of mud and wattle - find the knightliest lover
A braggart, and his lilymaid a slut.
And all that coloured tale a tapestry
Woven by poets. As the spider's skeins
Are spun of its own substance, so have they
Embroidered empty legend - What remains?
This: That when Rome fell, like a writhen oak
That age had sapped and cankered at the root,
Resistant, from her topmost bough there broke
The miracle of one unwithering shoot.
Which was the spirit of Britain - that certain men
Uncouth, untutored, of our island brood
Loved freedom better than their lives; and when
The tempest crashed around them, rose and stood
And charged into the storm's black heart, with sword
Lifted, or lance in rest, and rode there, helmed
With a strange majesty that the heathen horde
Remembered when all were overwhelmed;
And made of them a legend, to their chief,
Arthur, Ambrosius - no man knows his name -
Granting a gallantry beyond belief,
And to his knights imperishable fame.
They were so few . . . We know not in what manner
Or where they fell - whether they went
Riding into the dark under Christ's banner
Or died beneath the blood-red dragon of Gwent.
But this we know; that when the Saxon rout
Swept over them, the sun no longer shone
On Britain, and the last lights flickered out;
And men in darkness muttered: Arthur is gone . . .
-- Francis Brett Young