IV. Maelgwn ap Cadwallon, Lived: 480-547 AD. Reigned: 520-547 AD. Arguably the most-renowned King so far, and certainly the most since Cunedda, is Maelgwyn ap Cadwallon, who is often titled simply as “Maelgwyn Gwynedd”.

Up until now, the Kings of Gwynedd have spent generations fighting against foreign occupiers of Welsh lands within the Kingdom of Gwynedd and it is Maelgwyn, more than any other since Cunedda, who succeeds in removing them and their influence from the serene landscapes of gogledd Cymru (north Wales).

However, this would not mean that Ireland’s role in the Kingdom of Gwynedd is over – in fact, Ireland would be a very important ally and foe of many of the Kings of Gwynedd to rule in the coming centuries.

There are records, not to mention the writings of Gildas, which imply that Maelgwyn was recognised as something of a High King both within the various Kingdoms of Cymru, and as far as the “Old North” of what would one day become Cumbria – the parent Kingdom of Gwynedd, given its role in the production of Cunedda generations earlier.

Christianity first arrived on the shores of Great Britain towards the end of the Roman occupation, sometime during the 4th century (though it is highly probable, almost certainty, that there were Christians in Britain before this time).

Most credit for the widespread growth of Christianity within the island is often attributed to Augustine of Canterbury, a 6th century monk who arrived in England circa 597 AD is often titled the “Apostle to the English” because of his role in Christianity’s growth and eventual dominance in Britain.

However, Maelgwyn Gwynedd – who died 50 years before the arrival of Augustine – is noted in history as a significant patron of Christianity, and one who very much fuelled its growth within Gwynedd and, likely as a result, the rest of the island of Great Britain.

In fact, it is known that he used his power, and the wealth that comes with it, to fund churches not just within the borders of his own Kingdom, but the churches of neighbouring and even distant Kingdoms.

Within Cymru alone, he provided financial aid to the efforts of such Christian Saints as Cadoc, a fellow Welsh King and relative of Maelgwyn through Cunedda, and Brynach.

Maelgwyn gained the nickname “Maelgwyn Gwynedd” for his successes within the Kingdom, being the first King up until now to truly rid the region of the foreign occupation and in-fighting which came before – though ultimate credit goes to his father, Cadwallon, who enjoyed the most warring successes against the Irish occupiers and allowed Maelgwyn to attain a throne which was secure both inwardly and outwardly.

For this reason, Maelgwyn is, to some, the first official King of Gwynedd – with his predecessors merely being pre-Gwynedd Kings who just so happened to be active within the region of what would become Gwynedd, as well as ancestors of the eventual first King, Maelgwyn.

However, this would be an unwise assertion as the Kingdom established by Cunneda decades earlier was very much the same one eventually inherited by Maelgwyn, with only slightly different borders.

In short, Maelgwyn gained a Kingdom from Cadwallon which was finally free of foreign occupation. With Maelgwyn’s reign, the ultimate legacy of his great-grandfather, Cunedda, was achieved. Maelgwyn seized upon the successes of his father and ensured that the Kingdom of Gwynedd was not to be some short-lived Kingdom lasting a mere few decades but, instead, a bastion of Welshness and one which would not only be arguably the most important within Cymru for generations to come but also one which would, in the coming centuries, prove to be the biggest thorn in the side of the Saxon Kingdoms already in existence during this time and the Kingdoms soon to form.

By the end of this book, you will come to be familiar with the Welsh word “llys”, which is essentially the Welsh form of the English “royal court” or, perhaps more pedantic, “hall”.

The Ilys would be the sort of headquarters of Welsh Kings, and we know that Maelgwyn had one at Deganwy, which is today a small town at the mouth of the River Conwy. The Ilys of Maelgwyn is what is today known in Welsh as “Castell Degannwy” (“castell” meaning “castle” in English), and what would have been known in earlier forms of Welsh as “Caer Ddegannwy”.

The ruins of Maelgwyn’s Ilys are still visible today and are relatively easy to access with some good hiking boots, as the castle stood at an elevation of approximately 110 meters at the summit of volcanic plug known as Y Fardre.

It is from Castell Degannwy where Maelgwyn and many of his successors would rule; with this castle being the ultimate symbol of Gwynedd and, to an extent, the larger Cymru for centuries to come. Such a symbol it would be that, at the conclusion of Edward Longshanks’ Edwardian Conquest of Wales in 1283, Edward would allow the castle to fall into ruin and have constructed the formidable Conwy Castle across the river Conwy, to serve not only as a symbol of English/Norman power within what was the Kingdom of Gwynedd, but as the ultimate reminding humiliation to what had been the ruling dynastic force within Cymru for centuries.

As will be a recurring theme in the visitation of the first few Kings of Gwynedd, Gildas remains the best contemporary chronicler of the lives of these Welsh Kings. Of course, Gildas’ writings cannot be taken entirely at face value because there is some dislike on his part for these Kings of Gwynedd, which might stem from Gildas’ own political, national, religious or cultural biases – it is not entirely sure which influenced his view. However, he did write of Maelgwyn being one of the five British Kings to be condemned in the allegorical condemnation that is De Excidio et Conquestu Britanniae: Aurelius Conanus, Constantine of Dumnonia, Cuneglas of Rhos (a cousin of Maelgwyn) and Vortiporius of Dyfed. Furthermore, he declares that Maelgwn, above the five Kings, was the most distinguished and troubling of the bunch.

Gildas mentions that he usurped the throne from his paternal uncle, a major sin (especially if the process of kin slaying was involved), to gain the throne.

In something which would be found majorly offensive to Christians of the time and especially to Gildas, he argues that Maelgwyn at some point in his life became a monk (which was not uncommon within the House of Cunedda, as a few of the South Wales descendants of Gwynedd’s founder, most notably Saint Cadoc, King of Gwynllwg dedicate themselves to a life of the cloth) before returning to secularism, or at least something bearing some distance resemblance to the term during a highly-religious period.

Perhaps worse in the mind of a medieval Catholic was the accusation that Maelgwyn was a divorcee who later remarried to the widow of his own nephew, whose death Maelgwyn was accused of being responsible for, which would make him a two-time kin slayer and a sure enemy of the Catholic Church.

However, we do not know how much of what Gildas said is true, if any of it is true, as there is scant evidence to support some (if not all) of these claims which paint Maelgwyn in the most heinous, heretical of light.

The five Kings condemned by Gildas are each compared to one of the five beasts from the Book of Revelation, which includes a lion, leopard, bear and dragon – the dragon being the chief of them all, and therefore the most potentially damaging in the eyes of Gildas. Naturally, Maelgwyn is painted as the dragon, meaning that he is the main target of Gildas’ scorn.

In this writing, Maelgwn is referred to as the “dragon of the island”, no doubt a reference to Ynys Môn (Isle of Anglesey in English), which was a historical stronghold of Gwynedd and the primary seat of its King. Gildas goes on to declare Maelgwyn as being chief above the other four Kings, with him holding power over them as something akin to an inter-regional High King.

We do not know if this is true, though it would be possible that – as a direct descendent of Cunedda, a true legend of post-Roman Britain at this point – the other Kings looked to Maelgwyn for guidance and protection, given the relative security finally achieved within the North Welsh Kingdom.

As already established, it is uncertain what made these five Kings the chief subjects of the scorn of Gildas. It could be that these five Kingdoms had aligned somewhat, and that maybe they were warring with a Kingdom of which Gildas was loyal to.

Given Gildas’ role as a devoted Catholic, it is possible that a Church was destroyed in a war between these Kings, though this would make little sense as we have already established that Maelgwyn was not only a Christian, but one wholly devoted to the growth of the faith within not just his own Kingdoms, but the neighbouring Kingdoms too.

Therefore, it might be wise to suggest that these Kings had aligned and Gildas felt threatened by their growth, thus comparing their alliance to the apocalypse and themselves to the five beasts.

This would make sense as to why he opted towards selecting these five Kings as the target of his most-critical, damaging words and yet said nothing of some of the similarly powerful British Kingdoms of the time, such as Elmet, Gododdin, Pengwern/Powys, Rheged, or even some of the foreign Kingdoms growing in the aftermath of the fall of what had been Rome.

Perhaps his accusations were true and these Kings truly were criminals who had committed the crimes accused of them by Gildas, there is just no way of knowing for sure but his writings, unquestionably, remain the most interesting of the time period when concerning these Kingdoms (and their Kings) and serve as the best contemporary understanding of the time period available to us.

It is believed by some but far from certain with considerable conflicting evidence which points in other directions that Maelgwyn was buried within the grounds of Castell Degannwy following his death in 547. Maelgwyn would suffer the unfortunate fate of contracting the “yellow plague”, a historically ominous, depopulating disease which may (or may not) have been the British arrival of the more well-documented Justinian Plague which devastated the Byzantine Empire.

Given that Maelgwyn was a contemporary of Emperor Justinian, and born just two before years the Byzantine Emperor, it is very possible that this was some strain of the same disease spread by war and trade.

Regardless of what it was, it is believed to have killed King Maelgwyn and his lifeless body was put to rest on the remote Welsh island of Ynys Seiriol (more commonly referred to by the English name of “Puffin Island”, a result of its population of puffins), a short swim off the easterly point of Anglesey.

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Sally George

Sally is a proud wife of a Welshman, editor & writer of Welsh Histories. She’s all about stories—that shout ‘anything Welsh.’ Drop her an email if you have an advice, insight, experience, or a story to share.