
Welcome to Fil Reid, guest author of today’s Footnotes on Friday. Thanks for being with us today, Fil.
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Several times in my books Iâve had characters refer to The Dream of Macsen Wledig. This is a story thatâs survived to today as one of the tales in The Mabinogion, stories compiled from earlier oral traditions in the 12th and 13th centuries. I thought it would be nice to infer that these were stories being recounted around the fireside in kingsâ great halls only a hundred years after Prince Macsenâs own time.
Although heâs classed as a Celtic âheroâ he’s based on a real person â a Roman general born in Spain called Magnus Maximus, who served in Britain where he acquitted himself heroically and briefly became the Western Roman Emperor in AD383. Unfortunately, he led a lot of the forces defending Britain, including native British warriors, away to fight in Europe and was himself killed on the 8th of August AD388.
Those are the facts about him, but for some reason, the British tribes took him to heart and he became one of âtheirsâ rather than a member of the occupying force. This was helped by his defeat of the rampaging Picts and Scots (the Irish) in the North in AD381. In a time when the British themselves were not able to defend themselves against invaders, Magnus Maximus did it for them, and they loved him for it.
And of course, he went off and had a tragic end that the bards could transpose into being both romantic and heroic. Thus was born The Dream of Macsen Wledig, which is how they came to refer to the man they thought of as Prince Macsen.
The content of the dream is as follows â the emperor of Rome (Macsen â already emperor unlike in reality) dreams one night of a lovely maiden in a faraway land and sends his men off to search for her. Eventually, they find her in a splendid castle in Wales, the daughter of a chieftain based at Segontium (Caernarvon) and lead the emperor to her. Everything is just as in his dream. The maiden is Elen and he marries her and, as she is a virgin, makes her father king of all Britain.
However, in Macsenâs absence, a new emperor seizes power and warns him not to return, and that Rome is his now. Macsen, being a hero etc, takes an army (in the dream strictly a Celtic army) and marches on Rome. He gets himself killed, and Elen receives the news on the road and promptly lies down and dies as every romantic heroine should on hearing of her loved oneâs demise.
Whatâs interesting about Macsen is his presence in so many genealogies as a founding father: he crops up in the lists of the Fifteen Tribes of Wales, has a prominent place in the Welsh Triads, and heâs given as an ancestor of a Welsh king on a monument â the Pillar of Eliseg â 500 years after his own death. Luckily this inscription was recorded in 1696 by Edward Lluyd as nowadays itâs illegible. But itâs interesting not just for its mention of Maximus (in that spelling) but also for its mention of Britu, son of Guarthigirn (Vortigern) and Sevira (described as a daughter of Maximus presumably by Elen) having been blessed by Germanus (a saint who we know visited British shores in Romeâs fight against Pelagianism).
Of course, none of this is really relevant to how I use Maximus in my stories, but in the current book, Excalibur turns out to have belonged at one point to Maximus, and to have been returned to Britain after his final battle, when he knew he was about to die, and hidden until his true successor could discover it. That might be a small spoiler, but youâll have to read the book to find out the complicated ins and outs of how it ends in Arthurâs hands.
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Excerpt  (Merlin shows Gwen where the sword has come from)
The younger man reached for the sword with reluctance, his stubbly cheeks tear-stained, eyes anguished. Filthy fingers closed around the hilt. âMy Lord, I will not rest until this sword lies in the hands of your wife.â His head bowed in supplication.
The dragon ring winked at me in the raw daylight, as the Emperor laid a hand on the young soldierâs bare, short-cropped head in benediction. Withdrawing his hand, the Emperor fumbled at the ring with awkward, bandaged fingers as the young man rose wearily to his feet, and slid the sword into the scabbard by his side.
The Emperor, his own cheeks wet with tears, held out the ring, gripped between finger and thumb. âTake this as well. It was my wifeâs.â
It fell into the soldierâs open hand, and the young man turned it over, so the dragon rested uppermost on the filthy palm.
An overwhelming urge to reach out and snatch it washed over me, but the vision vanished. My eyes flicked open.
I was back on the wall-walk again, with Merlin still holding my hands and the dragon ring on my finger glinting in the afternoon sunlight.
My breath came hard and fast. âWas that sword Excalibur?â
âI donât know, but I think so. This is the clearest Iâve seen him. All I can tell you is that every time I look, I see this sword gripped in that hand. That hand with that ring. This ring.â He indicated the ring on my hand. âAnd I believe that what Iâm seeing, what Iâve just shown you, is Macsenâs defeat by the Emperor Theodosius. I think he knew execution awaited him and wanted to send his sword back to Britain. Perhaps it was a British-made sword â even linked to the Princess Elen, his wife.â

The Quest for Excalibur
Book Five of the award-winning historical romance series based on Arthurian legend.
Twelve years ago, 21st-century librarian Gwen decided to remain in the Dark Ages with the man she loves above all else â a man around whom endless well-known tales of legend and magic have been spun. King Arthur. Over the years, sheâs carved a life for herself by her husbandâs side, gently steering him in the direction she wants him to go, but always with an awareness that heâs a Dark Age king with a Dark Age view of the world.
Equipped with her prior knowledge of Arthurian legend, Gwenâs sole aim has long been to save her husband from the legendary fate she dreads hangs over him. But always, at the back of her mind, is the nagging doubt that whatever she does is already set in stone, and nothing she can do will change his future which is already her past.
Now, in book five of the Guinevere series, sheâs all too aware that time is marching on, and that this fate might well be drawing closer to the man she gave up everything for.
Danger lurks in the most unexpected places, and long-hidden secrets threaten to rise to the surface. After a long, cold winter in their hilltop fortress, Gwenâs pleased to welcome traveling players to Din Cadan. But these players are hiding secrets of their own, and one of them has come with black deeds in mind. Gwen will have to fight harder than sheâs ever done to save herself and thus her husband. And all evidence points to the hand of Morgana, Arthurâs wicked sister, manipulating everything from afar.
Throughout all of this, simmering in the background, is young Medraut, Arthurâs nephew. Unnoticed, despite still being only a boy, heâs been exerting his malignant influence over those around him, in particular, Gwen and Arthurâs son and heir. The wedge he succeeds in driving between Arthur and his son will carry forward into the cataclysmic events of the final book, The Road To Avalon.
But even Morgana canât prevent Gwen discovering the truth behind the story of Excalibur and setting the legendary sword in her husbandâs hands.


âYou came,â she whispered in a breathy tone and she at once realized how fast her heart was hammering away inside her chest. She was excited and scared all at the same time while she tilted her head back to see his face. She felt so tiny next to this giant of a man, who must be well over six feet tall.
Sherry Ewing picked up her first historical romance when she was a teenager and has been hooked ever since. A bestselling author, she writes historical and time travel romances to awaken the soul one heart at a time. When not writing, she can be found in the San Francisco area at her day job as an Information Technology Specialist. You can learn more about Sherry and her books on her website where a new adventure awaits you on every page at www.SherryEwing.com.
Sometimes all it takes to find your heartâs desire is to make a wishâŚ













