Medieval society had its own myths, folktales and folkloric practices. Some had their roots in older times, whereas others emerged during the Middle Ages. However, whatever their origins, they were all, inevitably, re-interpreted and adapted to reflect medieval cultural concerns.
It is tempting to focus on myth and folklore as having specific points of origin in history. From this point onwards it is unavoidable that they evolve and change. Some even get embellished and re-imagined to a such a degree that their original form is entirely obscured. The full significance of this evolutionary process can escape us if we are not careful. Often, we fall into a myopic trap; over-obsessing with a fruitless quest for the ‘original’ or ‘true’ version of a story. But this can obscure the value of folklore as a living, evolving, entity.
And, as it happens, myths and folklore have much to tell us about the social and cultural attitudes of the medieval world.
Mythology and Folklore as History
It is tempting to regard myths and folktales as fantasies that sit outside the study of serious history. Since they are often based around events and characters whose historic veracity is questionable, it is tempting to dismiss them. Indeed, some tales even have their roots entirely in fiction or pure fantasy. So, what value could they have for the serious medieval historian?
However fictional a story may be, its undeniable popularity at a specific point in time shows us that it held cultural significance. This was as true in the Middle Ages as it remains today. These stories, superstitions and practices may or may not reflect historic truth, but that is not ultimately what makes them important. What makes them important is what they can tell us about the psychology of their audience. And this provides us with a window into the cultural mind of medieval society.
So, myths and folktales are not just about elusive semi-historical characters, whose true identities have been irretrievably lost to us. These tales can help us understand what was important in the minds of those who engaged with them.
Medieval England Legends
Two of the most famous legends that came to prominence in medieval England (and which have remained prominent ever since) are the tales of King Arthur and Robin Hood.
In both cases, the characters concerned may or may not have been genuine historic figures. Even locating these individuals at a specific point in history or particular geographic location is problematic (not to mention the subject of considerable speculation).
However, there are certain things we can say with certainty about both legends. In the case of King Arthur, we know that his story became especially popular thanks, mainly, to the work of one man. This was Geoffrey of Monmouth, writing in the early twelfth century.
Likewise, with Robin Hood, we know his tales were popular from at least the late fourteenth century onwards. They certain appear to have been extremely popular throughout the C15th (much to the chagrin of the senior clergy, who were keen to condemn them).
So, rather than ask ‘who was the real Arthur?’ or ‘who was the real Robin?’ , a better question is ‘why were these particular stories so popular at these particular times?’ And, by implication, what does that tell us about the society of those times?
The Historic Arthur
If there was ever an historic Arthur, he was likely to have been a British king or leader, active at some point during the early C6th. The earliest references to an Arthur are fragmentary to say the least. From these we can glean few details beyond Arthur’s identity as a heroic leader and a handful of locations associated with him. Even the precise whereabouts and historic veracity of many of these locations is often highly debatable.
Searching for the ‘real’ Arthur is like attempting to re-create a 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle with only half a dozen pieces.
The Legend of Arthur
What we know as the legend of King Arthur truly begins with Geoffrey of Monmouth’s History of the Kings of Britain. It is the earliest account of Arthur’s life and times that is anything more than a fragment or passing reference.
Not only does Monmouth write about Arthur; he also wrote about the entire early history of the Britons. It is a tale that dates all the way back to the early colonisation of the British Isles.
However, Monmouth’s writing is problematic. First, he was writing in the early C12th, fully six centuries after Arthur’s day. Not only that, but his tales include many spectacular and incredulous claims. Consider his assertion that Britain had been founded by a Roman senator of Trojan descent. His stories include tales of visions and prophecies. They feature dragons and battles with giants. Monmouth even claims that Arthur briefly established a European Empire!
Many of these details were sheer fantasy or obvious fabrication. Indeed, the unreliability of Monmouth’s account was fully acknowledged by people writing not long after his death:
“…it is quite clear that everything this man wrote about Arthur and his successors, or indeed about his predecessors … was made up”
William of Newburgh, 1190
Yet, despite this, Monmouth’s Arthurian tales became hugely popular. Not only in England but across Western Europe. Why?
Foundation Mythology
Monmouth was a well-educated cleric. Although he hailed from the Welsh borders, it is likely he came from a Norman family. He was nevertheless familiar with old Welsh/British tales and probably did have access to material now lost to us.
Geoffrey had a scholarly education that meant he would have been familiar with many stories and legends from classical history. One of the most widely known classical stories in Geoffrey’s time was the tale of the Roman hero Aeneas. This tale traces Rome’s foundation to an illustrious Trojan past. It gave the Romans a claim to a heroic and prestigious ancient lineage. In Roman times, the tale of Aeneas was central to Roman understanding of the foundation of their civilisation.
The foundation mythology surrounding Aeneas was deployed by Virgil on behalf of Augustus, to legitimate and aggrandize the Augustan regime. It allowed the Romans to portray themselves and their Empire as the legitimate successors of the heroic ancient Trojans.
Rome’s Successors
Since the fall of the Western Empire in the C5th, no subsequent European kingdom had been anywhere near so grand as Rome. The power and majesty of ancient Rome easily eclipsed the relatively petty medieval kingdoms that followed. Naturally enough, most medieval European kings aspired to recapture at least a fraction of the glory and power of Rome’s lost Empire. None would manage it. And most would never even get close. The only fleeting exception was Charlemagne’s Frankish Empire, that flourished for a brief time between the late ninth and early tenth centuries. Just before Geoffrey’s time, during the C11th, French writers began to compose heroic tales concerning Charlemagne and his knights. These were tales of heroism and great deeds in which Charlemagne was presented as a latter-day Aeneas. Now France, like Rome before it, could lay claim to a glorious foundation mythology.
Arthur and British Identity
Monmouth, catching the zeitgeist of his day, sought to write a British foundation myth to rival that of Rome’s Aeneas or France’s Charlemagne.
Certainly, Monmouth’s embellishments contained many elements that were clearly fictional. They were accepted as such by many, even at the time he wrote it. However, versions of tales of Aeneas were being produced at around this time, also with medieval fictional embellishment. And the C11th tales of Charlemagne were also subjected to significant dramatic license.
The best-known story in the Charlemagne foundation mythology was the Song of Roland. This tale culminates in the climactic battle of Roncevaux Pass, in which a Muslim army massacres a heroic Frankish rearguard. The tale relates to a real enough battle. However, it was fought between Franks and Basques, not with Muslims. A medieval audience would have known this. But it did not matter. The chivalric message and the value of the foundational myth were what mattered.
The same was true of Monmouth’s Arthur tales.
People living at the time knew (or strongly suspected) that Monmouth was taking huge dramatic liberties. But that was not the point. Monmouth’s tales became popular because of the chivalric culture they promoted and the promise of a lost, glorious, British past. Now Britain could lay claim to her own foundation myth.
The Three Matters
Tales of Arthur, Aeneas and Charlemagne became hugely popular throughout High Medieval Europe. These were aspirational tales; exemplars of a glorious chivalric culture to which the European nobility aspired.
This became so much the case that one medieval writer referred to these tales as the Three Matters. By this, he means they were of such cultural importance that everyone should familiarise themselves with them.
The popularity of these stories stemmed not from any historic reality of Arthur, Aeneas or even Charlemagne. Arthur’s tales were not tales of an elusive dark age hero. They were chivalric exemplars; literary expressions of the aspirations and social values of the medieval elite.
Arthur inspired a thriving literary tradition that lasted for the rest of the Middle Ages. Each generation that followed Monmouth added to, and expanded on, the stories of Arthur and his knights. By the end of the period, a huge corpus of Arthurian lore had evolved.
The last great medieval work to tackle Arthur’s story was written by Sir Thomas Malory during the period of the Wars of the Roses. By this time, the chivalric court culture of these tales represented a nostalgic ideal rather than reality. The world they described was disappearing as the Early Modern Age approached. The golden age of Arthurian lore was passing.
Tales for the Foolish Populace
If Arthur’s story is a story primarily of the medieval ruling classes, Robin Hood’s story certainly is not.
In 1440, a disapproving abbot wrote of Robin Hood and Little John:
“…whom the foolish populace are so inordinately fond of celebrating both in tragedies and comedies, and about whom they are delighted to hear the jesters and minstrels sing above all other ballads.”
Walter Bower, 1440
The tales of Robin Hood were very much part of popular culture by 1440. Whilst they clearly had mass appeal with the ‘foolish populace’, they also held at least some appeal for people of higher social rank. Sir John Paston, also writing in the C15th, tells us that he even employed a servant to perform plays of Robin Hood for his household.
But as with Arthur, pinning down the identity of an historic Robin Hood is highly problematic. Who was Robin Hood? It is a question that is impossible to answer definitively.
Even pinning down when exactly Robin was supposed to have lived is fraught with uncertainty. Was he active at the time of Richard the Lionheart and King John (1189-1216)? At around the time of the Second Barons’ Wars (1260s and 70s)? Or perhaps during the reign of Edward II (1307-1327)? There are many theories. But nothing definitive.
Robin’s Story
The first historic record we have of Robin’s story is from 1377. He is mentioned in Langland’s tale of Piers Plowman. Here Robin is mentioned by Sloth (one of the seven deadly sins) as being just the kind of character that Sloth likes to hear tales about. What this shows us is two things. First that tales of Robin Hood were already in wide circulation by 1377. Second, it reinforces the view that Robin’s tales were especially popular with people like Sloth or, to put it another way, the ‘foolish populace’.
But what were these tales? If you were exposed to the tales of Robin Hood in 1377 or 1440, what kind of stories would you have been listening to?
Unlike Arthurian lore, which established an extensive literary tradition during the Middle Ages, the story of Robin Hood was transmitted in popular ballads, rhymes and plays. Only a fraction of this material survives because it was originally performed rather than read. Since it was intended for widespread consumption by a largely illiterate audience, the need to write down these tales was always limited.
Nevertheless, a few records of late medieval ballads and even a short play survives. These would have been performed by minstrels and players, perhaps at summer games and fairs to a mixed audience.
Robin in the Medieval Ballads and Plays
What survives of the material is later medieval fifteenth century versions of what might have been early stories. Likely there were Robin Hood tales in circulation in the mid-C14th and probably earlier, but these versions are lost to us.
The ‘real’ Robin Hood (assuming there was a real person behind the legend) probably lived in the thirteenth or maybe early fourteenth century. But the Robin described in the ballads and plays is very much a man of the age of Crecy and Agincourt.
In these early tales he is always portrayed as yeoman of the forest and not a nobleman. Indeed, his yeoman status is central to his medieval identity. In the late C14th/early C15th, a yeoman such as Robin represented a better class of commoner but nonetheless still one of the people. Robin’s background suggests he may have originally been a game keeper or huntsman in the service of some lord or other. However, in all the tales it is clear he has turned away from his original profession to embrace a life of banditry and outlawry.
He is, of course, famed for his archery. This yeoman archer identity is no coincidence. These were precisely the kind of men who served as longbowmen at Crecy and Agincourt and absolutely places Robin in the late C14th/early C15th.
Champion of the People
The stories of Robin picture him as a bandit and a rogue. Make no mistake, he is a criminal. However, his enemies consist of corrupt abbots, monks, sherifs and justices. Greedy and corrupt men who abuse their social rank to exploit and extort money and land from ordinary honest folk.
For people like Robin there is no chance of justice from these corrupt fellows. Often his only hope is to evade the authorities in the woods or trick the king into granting him a pardon. If he’s very lucky, he might benefit from the king’s intervention to set right the injustices of corrupt local officials.
Indeed, the issues, hopes, fears and concerns of these tales are very much popular concerns of the late Middle Ages. They are tales of disillusionment and frustration. The message is clear: don’t have faith in the authorities, they are corrupt. The only chance of justice is a direct appeal to the king.
In short, these ballads reflect the social disenchantment that fuelled the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381 and, later, the Jack Cade uprising of 1450.
Voice of the Peasants’ Revolt
These late C14th / C15th themes sit poorly with most theories regarding an historic Robin. If Robin really was an historic figure, he was almost certainly a figure from an earlier time. However, by the time of the Peasants’ Revolt, his tales clearly reflect the concerns and frustrations of the people who marched on the capital 1381.
Robin’s tales are protest tales. They speak of a deep distrust of a system riddled with corruption. The stories attack an over-wealthy and exploitative church. They rebel against a legal system run by a corrupt elite. They appeal to the king directly for justice as a last, and perhaps desperate, best hope.
Compare these sentiments with the demands of the Peasants’ Revolt itself. A contemporary chronicler recorded Wat Tyler’s demands in 1381 as follows:
“…from henceforth there should be no outlawry in any process of law … and that the goods of Holy Church should not remain in the hands of the religious … but that clergy … should have a sufficient sustenance … and the rest of the goods should be divided among the people.”
Anonimalle Chronicle
Robin became, although he almost certain was not initially, the dissenting voice of the Peasants’ Revolt.
The Tragedy of Morgana Le Fay
One of the most fascinating figures from Arthurian Lore is the character of Morgana Le Fay. In modern times we remember her as an evil enchantress and, ultimately, Arthur’s nemesis. In historic terms she is a mythical and most likely, fictional character. However, how she is portrayed and how that portrayal evolves tells us a lot about changing attitudes to women and magic in the Middle Ages.
When she first appears, in Geoffrey’s early tales, Morgen (as she was then) is portrayed entirely positively. She appears only at the end of Arthur’s tale as a wise and benevolent healer. She is the only one capable of healing the badly injured king. And she is the mysterious fairy queen of Avalon. Not only a skilled healer but also a great scholar and a skilled mathematician. Gifted in the art of shapeshifting.
Later in the C12th, she remains a benevolent and wise healer in the tales of Chrétien de Troyes. However, in later medieval stories Morgana’s character changes. Instead of a fairy queen she becomes Arthur’s half-sister. Instead of being a wise scholar in her own right she is relegated to being a student of Merlin. And, instead of being benevolent, she is increasingly cast in the role of a malevolent sorceress.
Evolution of the Witch
Morgana’s changing role is no coincidence. It reflects the transition in attitudes to women and to magic that occurred between the C12th and the end of the Middle Ages. It reflects an increasing social unease concerning magic and its potential for malevolent use. And, ultimately, it reflects the increasing tendency to regard women who use magic as dangerous, and even in league with Satan.
What we are seeing, in Morgana’s character development is the evolution in medieval culture that she reflects. An evolution that takes an increasingly dark turn and which, by the end of the Middle Ages has crystalised in a paranoid view of witchcraft. A view that would fuel the witch hunts of the Early Modern world.
And yet, even by the late Middle Ages, the image of the ‘witch’ as a dark, insidious, Satanic threat had not yet fully taken hold. And we can see this reflected in the history of folklore relating to Wookey Hole.
The Witch of Wookey Hole
The story of the Witch of Wookey Hole that has been passed down to us today purports to be medieval in origin. Sometime in the Middle Ages, we are informed, an evil witch made her lair there. Eventually the services of a holy man were called upon to deal with the witch. And, after reciting the Lord’s prayer and sprinkling the witch with holy water, she was turned to stone.
It is a well-known folk tale. But it is not medieval in origin. It is a later tale that first emerged in Early Modern times. How do we know this? Well, in this case we are very lucky indeed. In 1480, at the end of the Middle Ages, William of Worcester visited Wookey Hole. He wrote at some length about the local folklore pertaining to it, but his account makes no reference to any witches.
Indeed, William tells us that the rock that would be labelled as the witch in later stories, was regarded as an ordinary woman, spinning with her distaff, in his day. The witch paranoia that followed in the C16th would transform an ordinary woman, working at her spinning, into an evil witch. Sadly, this change in folkloric tradition mirrored a broader social change – a change that would lead to the witch hunts.
Nature, Eden and Paganism
The folklore and mythology of medieval England frequently addressed themes related to nature and the natural world. Sometimes nature was seen as a positive force, closer to the biblical garden of Eden than man. It could serve as a refuge away from the corrupt decadence of city life and, indeed, was a place where holy men could escape to lead a purer life.
Nature clearly held associations with older folk traditions such as mid-summer bonfires and May Day festivities. These, too, could also be seen reflected positively in medieval tales. In Malory’s Arthurian tales, Guinevere is described ‘bringing in’ the May, travelling out to the countryside to collect flowers and greenery to decorate the court. Here, nature is portrayed as a source of renewal and rebirth, an entirely positive image.
But nature could also be regarded as savage, wild and a source of ignorance. The beasts were, after all, ignorant of God and potentially dangerous. And, at its worst, images of the natural world could carry associations with the ignorance of past paganism. This we see most clearly illustrated in the tale of Gawain and the Green knight. The Green knight draws on strange, pagan sorcery for his powers. This magic is dangerous and, in the tale of the Green Knight, even has diabolic associations.
The Woodwose
The image of the woodwose appears frequently in medieval illustrations. He was something of a bogeyman in the medieval psyche. Savage, wild, ignorant of civilisation and, worse, ignorant of God, just like the wild beasts of the forest.
Troupes of players and mummers frequently featured a man guising as a woodwose in medieval times. One can imagine such characters running amok in a street parade or at summer games, frightening the local children and using his guise as an excuse for behaving badly.
The woodwose was a figure to be feared. He could be savage and dangerous, just like a cornered wild boar or bear. He might abduct a maid to have his wicked way with her, ignorant as he was of God’s laws. Some tales even speak of cannibalism. But perhaps he was feared most of all because he was a wild man who was ignorant of civilisation and God. He was, in this sense, everything a cultured medieval man feared becoming. He symbolised the savage, godless side of nature. A side that still held dark associations with primitive pagan beliefs in the medieval mind.
And yet, medieval culture, though fearful of such wild savagery, acknowledged wild places as part of God’s creation. These complex and sometimes contradictory attitudes are there for all to see in the myths and folklore of the Middle Ages.
A Mirror for Society
Looking at myth and folklore for historic truth is a problematic venture if we limit our scope to a narrow enquiry into historic origins. Who was the real Arthur, who was the real Robin and was there ever such a thing as a woodwose? Such questions surely miss the most important point – that myths, folk tales and folk practices are mirrors of the society that transmits them.
The truth that such stories and beliefs reveal lies in what they can tell us about the psychology and culture of the people who embraced them.
For a more in-depth look at myths, legends and folklore in Plantagenet times, see my book, Myths and Legends of the Medieval World.
Other Features on Medieval Myths, Legends and Folklore
Here are links to past features covering medieval myths, legends, religious customs and folklore traditions, you might want to check out some of these stories:
Medieval Summer Folk Traditions
Omens, Portents and Richard II
Robin Hood Series: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
Saint George in Medieval England
Sea Monsters in the Middle Ages
The Assassins and the Old Man of the Mountain
The Green Man: History and Origins
The Twelve Days of Medieval Christmas
The Wild Hunt in Medieval Mythology
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Myths and Legends of the Medieval World
If you enjoyed reading this article, you might be interested in my book: Myths and Legends of the Medieval World.
References and Further Reading
Husband, T. The Wild Man, Medieval Myth and Symbolism, (Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, 1980)
Keen, M. The Outlaws of Medieval England, (Routledge, 2000)
Lindahl, C. McNamara, J. & Lindow, J, Medieval Folklore, (Oxford University Press, 2000)
Lupack, A. Oxford Guide to Arthurian Literature and Legend, (Oxford University Press, 2007)
Watts, P. Myths and Legends of the Medieval World, (Pen and Sword, 2024)
Images
Lancelot slaying a dragon – Illustration by Arthur Rackham, c.1917 (via Wiki Commons)
King Arthur and Excalibur – N.C. Wyeth, 1880 (via Wiki Commons)
Roland sounding the Oliphant horn – Battle of Roncesvalles painting by Wolf von Bibra (1862-1922) (via Wiki Commons)
Piers Plowman – Folio 170r from the 14th century Luttrell Psalter, (via Wiki Commons)
Peasants Revolt by Alfred Garth Jones, 1900 (via Wiki Commons)
Morgana Le Fay by F. Sandys, 1864 (via Wiki Commons)
Woodwose battling a knight, from Codex Palatinus Germanicus 67 c1470 (via Wiki Commons)