The Prisoner of Dolbadarn

By Annie Whitehead

Last time, I talked about the hidden history to be found along the trails in Padarn Country Park. It seemed that every time there was a clearing through the trees which offered a view, I could see Dolbadarn Castle in the distance. During my stay in Llanberis, most of my walks started from the castle, which is in the grounds of the Royal Victoria Hotel where I was staying.

Dolbadarn (stress on the middle syllable) is an imposing ruin and is notable for being a Welsh Castle. Yes, of course, you might be thinking; it’s a castle in Wales so it’s a Welsh castle, obviously! But what I mean is that this is not one of the ‘Iron Ring’ castles built by Edward I when he subjugated the Welsh, nor is it one which he remodelled - unlike, say, Rhuddlan where he even altered the water course.

Dolbadarn was built by a native prince, Llewelyn Fawr, ruler of Gwynedd, probably in around the 1230s. The very fact that however far I walked - up to ten miles most days - I could almost always see the castle, just shows what a good site he chose, and how imposing it would have been.

Situated at the tip of Llyn Padarn (Lake Padarn), it was built to protect the route from north to south. No one was getting through without being seen. Like another Welsh castle, Dolwyddelan, it appears that the entrance to the castle was on the first floor, (or second floor, for US readers) as seen here, but originally access might have been provided by a moveable wooden ladder which, when taken away, would make it hard to get inside.

Despite the fact that today it nestles in one of the most popular tourist areas, only a short walk from the foot of Mount Snowdon and the National Welsh Slate Museum, on many of my frequent visits I had the place to myself. Although of course when it was garrisoned, there would have been a lot of soldiers there, still one can have a sense of isolation, even today.

So how must it have been for the man who spent twenty years imprisoned here?

Although the castle was built by Llewelyn Fawr (Fawr means ‘great’), it was his descendants who created the ‘human’ story of this place. Despite being married to King John’s natural daughter, Joan, Llewelyn Fawr had an uneasy relationship with the king of England. Not much changed with the next generations. The Welsh were fighting for their independence, but unfortunately they were fighting each other, too.

Llewelyn with Gruffudd & Dafydd

There were separate Welsh ‘kingdoms’ which Llewelyn Fawr had, during the course of his reign, managed to incorporate into his sphere of authority. The trouble was that Welsh laws of inheritance meant that lands were divided amongst brothers, which led to fraternal discord.

Llewelyn Fawr had a son Gruffudd, who was not the son of princess Joan, but the product of an earlier liaison. Joan gave birth to a son named Dafydd. To cut a long and complicated story relatively short, Dafydd was the one who succeeded his father and Gruffudd was imprisoned, along with his son, at another Welsh castle, Criccieth. The prisoners were then handed over to King John’s successor, Henry III and incarcerated in the Tower of London. Famously, Gruffudd attempted to escape, but fell and broke his neck.

Gruffudd falls from the
tower

The son who was imprisoned with him was called Owain, known as Owain Goch (Goch means red, so presumably he was a redhead). War broke out between Dafydd of Gwynedd and Henry of England, who no longer had the prisoner Gruffudd as leverage. When his Uncle Dafydd died without issue, it was not Owain, however, who succeeded.

Gruffudd had three other sons besides Owain and it was Owain’s younger brother, another Llewelyn, who was able to take control. Brotherly love was conspicuous by its absence. Of the four brothers, Rhodri, who might have been the youngest, played less of a part in the fighting between England and Wales and, indeed, between the Welsh siblings.

Owain, and another Dafydd, the fourth brother, were more prominent. Dafydd was often a thorn in Llewelyn’s side, sometimes fighting alongside him, sometimes throwing in his lot with the English.

To begin with, though, Llewelyn and Owain were allies. When their Uncle Dafydd died childless, technically the king had a legal claim to Gwynedd. Henry tried to stir up support for Owain, but Owain, held at Chester at this point, managed to evade his captors, fleeing into Wales, and catching up with his brother where the two were able to put up a united front.

They had to come to terms with the English, though, and the Treaty of Woodstock in 1247 saw Llewelyn and Owain forced to agree to Henry’s conditions. As has been pointed out by Michael Senior, the very fact that the brothers ‘had to arrange to meet [there], and under the auspices of a neighbouring king, implies that they were not that close.’ Had they already begun to argue? They controlled only a small part of their grandfather’s old kingdom, but seem at first to have managed to work together, forming alliances with neighbouring princes.

However, when Dafydd, their younger brother, came of age he ingratiated himself with the English king, paying homage to him and receiving land in return. His share was not as great as that controlled by his brothers though and he wasn’t especially happy about it. Owain took his side, happy for Dafydd to have a greater stake in Gwynedd. Llewelyn was not so well-disposed to the idea.

Now, brother fought brothers. At the battle of Bryn Derwin in June 1255, Llewelyn took on Owain and Dafydd, and won. He then went on to breach the terms of the Treaty of Woodstock, retaking the Perfeddwlad, an area of Gwynedd which had been under Henry’s control.

Thereafter, Llewelyn’s story became inextricably linked to that of Simon de Montfort - he married Simon’s daughter - and the fighting with King Henry’s son Edward which eventually saw the deaths of both Llewelyn and, fighting at that point on Llewelyn’s side, Dafydd, too.

But what of Owain Goch? The brothers initially worked together to control the lands confirmed by the Treaty of Woodstock, but when Dafydd came of age, bent the knee to the English and received land in return, Llewelyn got cross, and Owain did not support him. The battle of Bryn Derwin apparently lasted only an hour or so, and Llewelyn emerged the victor. Both of his brothers were then imprisoned. Dafydd was released not long after, but Owain was not so lucky.

The Brut y Tywysogion (Chronicle of the Princes) describes the fight: "Llywelyn and his men, trusting in God, awaited, unafraid on Bryn Derwin the fierce coming of his brothers, and a mighty host along with them. And before the end of one hour Owain Goch was captured and Dafydd fled, after many of his host had been slain."

Owain remained a prisoner until 1277. Not everyone agrees that he was incarcerated at Dolbadarn, but it is generally assumed that this was where he spent his years as a prisoner. The sixteenth-century antiquarian John Leland believed he had been held in a tower, and the thirteenth-century court poet, Hywel Foel ap Griffri ap Pwyll Wyddel, described how the prisoner was kept in a tower as a ‘guest’ for a long time: "Gŵr ysydd yn nhŵr yn hir westai." Surely this was the tower?

Imprisoned first with his father in 1239 at Criccieth, then again at the Tower of London, and now in the stronghold at the head of Llyn Padarn; Owain must have wondered at his ill-fortune. He was released under the terms of the Treaty of Aberconwy, in 1277, when Llewelyn was forced to submit to Edward I at Rhuddlan. By the terms of the treaty, Llewelyn was allowed to retain the title of Prince of Wales, but he was no longer an overlord, although he was now finally able to meet and formally marry his bride, Eleanor de Montfort. Perhaps all might have been peaceful, had Dafydd not risen up and attacked Hawarden Castle and provoked Edward's ire. Perhaps Llewelyn might have stayed out of things had his wife not died in childbirth. The attack on Hawarden occurred in March, 1282, on Palm Sunday. Things 'escalated quickly', and were not destined to end well for these two brothers.

What did Owain make of it? After he was released, he lived quietly on his estates and is believed to have lived until around 1282. Long enough to see his brother seemingly triumphant over the hated English king? Or a little longer, enough to learn that Llewelyn, apparently betrayed, lost his head in an ambush in Powys?

Standing at the foot of this imposing castle, on a quiet sunny evening, I couldn’t suppress a shiver. It is one of the most beautiful places on earth, but it is bleak too. How must it have felt, to be a prisoner here for over twenty years? How much would it have worsened the suffering to know that one was a prisoner at the command of one’s own brother? Owain’s story does not occupy much space in the books about Welsh history. Most of it, after all, was spent here in this tower. But it’s certainly a story worth thinking about, if we want to think, write, and learn about the human stories which lie in hiding amongst the pages of those books.

Further reading: A Time for Princes - Michael Senior
The Welsh Kings - Kari Maund
The Welsh Princes - Roger Turvey
Brut y Tywysogion - available online here

Illustrations: Public Domain images via Wikipedia - Mss from Matthew Paris
Photographs: taken by and copyright of Annie Whitehead

~~~~~~~~~~

Annie Whitehead is an author and historian, and a member of the Royal Historical Society. She has written three award-winning novels set in Anglo-Saxon Mercia. Her history of Mercia, from Penda the pagan king to the last brave stand of the earl of Mercia against the Conqueror, Mercia: The Rise and Fall of a Kingdom, is published by Amberley. Women of Power in Anglo-Saxon England is published by Pen & Sword Books. Annie has a deep and abiding love of North Wales and its rich history and takes every opportunity to visit.

Connect with Annie: Website, Facebook, Twitter, Blog, Amazon

A dark Welsh lady

by Anna Belfrage

In 1230, Ralph Mortimer of Wigmore took a certain Gwladus Ddu as his wife. Ralph was a Marcher Lord, always intent on expanding his domains into Wales. His new wife was as Welsh as they came, daughter of Prince Llewellyn the Great.

While Gwladus’ paternity has never been up for discussion – she is Gwladus ferch Llewellyn when mentioned in records of the time – who her mother was is a substantially thornier issue. Was Gwladus the product of Llewellyn’s long-standing affair with a certain Tangwystl, mother of his eldest son Gruffydd, or was she a legitimate daughter, born to Llewellyn and his Angevin wife Joanna? Somewhat ironically given the discussions as to whether Gwladus was illegitimate or not, Joanna was most definitely illegitimate, the daughter of King John of England.

To sort out who was Gwladus’ mother, one could start by trying to pin down when Gwladus was born. Well, unsurprisingly, it’s not as if there’s a neat entry stating her date of birth. Instead, genealogists usually work backwards from what known facts there are, and one of those facts is that Gwladus’ marriage to Ralph was not her first: she’d been wed to Reginald de Braose already back in 1215.

This, according to some, means she must have been born at the latest around 1202, so as to be of marriageable age in 1215. And if Gwladus was born in 1202, she could not be Joanna’s daughter seeing as Joanna and Llewellyn were wed in 1205, ergo Ralph Mortimer married an illegitimate Welsh princess.

However, there are some doubts as to whether there was a real marriage in 1215. Maybe it was more of a betrothal. Besides, why would Reginald de Braose, a man pushing forty and with heirs to his body (among which a certain William de Braose whom Llewellyn would hang in 1230 for having engaged in adulterous relations with Llewellyn’s wife, Joanna. All very complicated, isn’t it?) want to marry the illegitimate daughter of Llewellyn? A second marriage in this case would have been entered out of political interests, and Gwladus was worth much, much more as a political pawn if she was the legitimate daughter of a Welsh prince and the granddaughter of an English king than if she were the daughter of Llewellyn and the irresistibly named Tangwystl.

It is also interesting to note that while Gwladus and Reginald were married for thirteen years there are no recorded children. Reginald was definitely fertile and with her second husband Gwladus would go on to prove that she was too which begs the question if this first marriage was ever consummated, thereby indicating (perhaps) that maybe the bride was very young in 1215, corresponding with a birthdate after 1205.

When King John gave his daughter in marriage to Llewellyn, he also had Llewellyn promise that it would be the children he had with Joanna who would be his heirs. This was not in accordance with Welsh custom which in general supported every child’s right to inherit from its father, no matter if the child was conceived within or without the marital bed. At the time of Llewellyn’s wedding to Joanna, he already had a son named Gruffydd, so by agreeing to John’s demands he was effectively disinheriting his boy. Did not go down well with Gruffydd.

Llewellyn with his sons

Eventually, Joanna did present Llewellyn with a son who was named Dafydd. In 1229, young Dafydd rode to London to visit with his young uncle, Henry III. He did this to present himself before the entire English court as Llewelyn’s recognised heir, thereby formally acquiring his uncle’s support against his half-brother’s claim.

Interestingly enough, Dafydd was accompanied on this little jaunt by none other than Gwladus, at the time recently widowed as Reginald passed away in 1228. Now, the fact that Gwladus chose to accompany her younger sibling may indicate nothing more than a case of wanderlust. But if Gwladus was Gruffydd’s full sister, wouldn’t she have hesitated in accompanying her half-brother on a trip that had as its purpose to permanently scotch Gruffydd’s hopes of inheriting Llewellyn’s lands?

It did not take long for Llewellyn to find a new husband for his widowed daughter. This time, Gwladus was dispatched to wed Ralph Mortimer of Wigmore, a man some years her senior who’d become heir to the Mortimer lands upon the death of his older brother. The Mortimers were as covetous and power-hungry as all the Marcher Lords and while Ralph definitely wanted heirs, he also wanted valuable alliances. I seriously doubt he’d have wanted Gwladus—no matter how beautiful she might have been—unless she was not only the daughter of Llewellyn but also the niece of Henry III.

Whatever the case, Ralph and Gwladus seem to have hit it off. Over the first nine years of married life, she gave birth to six known children, among them the very competent Roger Mortimer who would go on to become a loyal servant of the king, behead Simon de Montfort at Evesham and marry Maud de Braose, daughter of the man his Welsh grandfather once hanged for adultery.
In 1246, Ralph died, leaving Gwladus a widow. She never remarried, dying five years later while visiting with her uncle, Henry III, in Winchester.

Not only don’t we know for sure who Gwladus’ mother was. We know nothing about Gwladus herself, beyond who her father was, who her husbands were, who her children were. She is defined not by who she was but by what she was, daughter, wife, mother. We have no depiction of her, all we have is her epithet, Ddu, which is Welsh for black. I guess this probably means that Gwladus was dark rather than fair, and I picture her with long dark braids and eyes the colour of a deep forest tarn. For some reason, I imagine she was of a serious disposition – but that is entirely fanciful, and for all I know, Gwladus may have been the life and soul of any medieval party she might have been invited to.

Gwladus Ddu remains an enigmatic and anonymous lady who attracts more interest due to the uncertainties surrounding her mother than due to herself. That’s a bit sad. However, no matter who her mother was, through Gwladus the blood of the Royal House of Gwynedd would pass down the Mortimer line, the Welsh Dragon lying dormant until that very distant descendant of hers, Edward IV, claimed the throne. Through Edward’s daughter, Elizabeth of York, that rather diluted drop of Welsh blood has made it all the way down the line to the present Queen. Having cried my eyes out over the sad fate of Llewellyn’s grandson and namesake, Llewellyn the Last, I find some comfort in that. Some.

All pictures in public domain and/or licensed under Wikimedia Creative Commons

~~~~~~~~~~~

Had Anna Belfrage been allowed to choose, she’d have become a professional time-traveller. As such a profession does not exist, she became a financial professional with two absorbing interests, namely history and writing.

Presently, Anna is hard at work with The King’s Greatest Enemy, a series set in the 1320s featuring Adam de Guirande, his wife Kit, and their adventures and misfortunes in connection with Roger Mortimer’s rise to power. And yes, Edmund of Woodstock appears quite frequently. The first book, In The Shadow of the Storm was published in 2015, the second, Days of Sun and Glory, was published in July 2016, and the third, Under the Approaching Dark, was published in April 2017.

When Anna is not stuck in the 14th century, she's probably visiting in the 17th century, specifically with Alex(andra) and Matthew Graham, the protagonists of the acclaimed The Graham Saga. This is the story of two people who should never have met – not when she was born three centuries after him.

Harddwych Gogledd Cymru - The Beauty of North Wales Part II

By Annie Whitehead

The first thing you might notice about Wales, and North Wales in particular, is that there are rather a lot of castles. They are usually lumped together as "Welsh Castles" but some are Welsh, and some are 'English'. On our first trip in 2004, we visited as many as we could. From the dark and brooding Dolwyddelan, Criccieth, Dolbardarn (all Welsh,) to the castles which formed the Iron Ring of Edward I's campaign of subjugation - Harlech, Conwy, Caernarfon, Beaumaris... But I'd like to begin this second leg of our tour of North Wales not with the castles, but with some of the places associated with the Princes of Gwynedd.

Author's own photo

Those who've read Sharon Penman's Welsh novels will be familiar with the story of Llewelyn Fawr (the Great) and his English wife, Joan (Joanna) who was the natural daughter of King John. In the church of Saint Grwst in Llanrwst lies the stone coffin, reputed to be that of Llewelyn, who died on April 11th AD1240. Over on Anglesey in the town of Beaumaris, the parish church porch houses Joan's coffin.

Like all medieval princes, Llewelyn was fairly peripatetic and one of his favourite places was his hunting lodge at Trefriw. The story goes that Joan took exception to walking up to the little chapel above Trefriw. But I can recommend that the climb rewards the effort. Services are still held in this 11th century church, and there is evidence that there has been a church here since the 6th century.

The medieval chapel at Llanrhychwyn -  author's photo

A new church was built in Trefriw in around 1230 on the site where St Mary's now stands, where stained glass windows devoted to the royal couple can be seen.

So we can visit these people in death, and see where they prayed, but can we visit where they lived? Well, yes, up to a point. The royal palace at Aberffraw is buried under a housing estate, and there is an ongoing debate as to the exact location of the palace at Abergwyngregyn. In the village there is a raised mound, which has been suggested as some kind of motte, but there is also an old manor house, Pen y Bryn,  dating back to the 17th century which, it is claimed by some, was built on the site of the former palace.

The priory at Llanfaes, where Joan was sent by Llewelyn after an indiscretion, has also long since gone. But in Newborough, the royal 'Llys' has been partially excavated. Drive round the corner too quickly and you'll miss it, in the field above the road, but it's there. Here, at Llys Rhosyr, it is possible to see the footings of the original buildings as well as the views across to the mainland.

author's own photo - Snowdonia in background

I've been to this site two or three times over the last decade and it seems to me that there has been sporadic investigation in the intervening periods, with information boards now erected, and directional stones inscribed with information about the layout of the site. (Readers of Part I of this journey through the area will remember that further along this road is the beach, which leads to Llanddwyn Island.)

Here is my photograph of one of those information boards, showing how the site might have looked. But of course, much of life was spent not in houses, but castles - the construction for which North Wales is famed.

Many of these castles belonged to the Welsh Princes, and it's believed that Llewelyn Fawr was born in an earlier building on the site of Dolwyddelan Castle, which he had built. It offers commanding views of the surrounding landscape, and part of it is still intact. For atmosphere and a feel of the past, it's hard to beat.

Dolwyddelan Wiki commons - CADW

Other 'native' castles include Criccieth on the Llyn Peninsula. When I visited there in 2004 there was an informative exhibition dedicated to Gerald of Wales, the 12th century chronicler. Standing like a sentinel high above Llanberis and overlooking the lake called Llyn Padarn is the ruin of Dolbadarn Castle, where Llewelyn's grandson, also called Llewelyn, imprisoned his brother, Owain ap Gruffudd. (Brotherly love was generally in short supply in that particular family.)

Dolbadarn - author's own photo
and see here for a post about this site

Like Criccieth, some native castles were taken over by Edward I and extended. At Rhuddlan, Edward went further still and altered the course of the river Clwyd when he built the castle there. Rhuddlan is not as well known, perhaps, as the major Edwardian castles which make up the 'Iron Ring'. Llewelyn Fawr's grandson poignantly became known to history as Llewelyn the Last, defeated by Edward in 1282. Edward began a massive programme of building, using the 'concentric' design of a castle within a castle. He was determined that the Welsh would remain subjugated and at Conwy Castle, he used stones from Aberconwy Abbey which had been the resting place of several Welsh princes. It was a powerful symbol of conquest.

Caernarfon - attribution Manfred Heyde

This picture of Caernarfon Castle shows how impenetrable and formidable these structures appeared to be. And yet Caernarfon was breached, in an uprising of 1294 led by Madog ap Llewelyn and was besieged again during the uprising of Owain Glyndwr (AD1400-1415).

In this, Caernarfon has something in common with Harlech Castle, which was occupied by Owain's forces between 1404 and 1409.

But Caernarfon also shares a secret with Beaumaris Castle on Anglesey, in that it was never actually finished. Wander round Caernarfon and you might not realise, since most castles these days are at least partially ruined. But step inside Beaumaris and you will see that only the outer walls were completed and the castle was never fully inhabited.

Beaumaris - commons attribution ljanderson977

In over a decade of at least twice-yearly trips, I still haven't visited the sites of all the Welsh castles. All of these sites are well worth a visit; some have a castle or a church to display. Some have much more to show off. Please join me in Part III of this tour when we will go back to Trefriw to visit a haunted Tudor castle and taste the iron water which drew the Victorians to the area. Back in Conwy we will visit two Tudor houses and a suspension bridge built by Telford. And after taking in a couple more Tudor buildings, we'll further explore the changes wrought by the Victorians on the landscape of this beautiful corner of Wales.

To read the previous parts of this tour:

Part I is HERE

Part III is HERE 

****************************************

Annie Whitehead studied History under the eminent Medievalist Ann Williams. She is an elected member of the Royal Historical Society and an editor for EHFA. She has written three award-winning novels set in Anglo-Saxon England, one of which, To Be A Queen, was long-listed for the Historical Novel Society (HNS) Indie Book of the year 2016. She has contributed to fiction and nonfiction anthologies and written for various magazines, including winning the New Writer Magazine Prose Competition. She was the winner of the inaugural Historical Writers’ Association/Dorothy Dunnett Prize 2017. She has now been a judge for that same competition for 2019 and 2020, as well as for the HNS Short Story Competition. Her nonfiction books are Mercia: The Rise and Fall of a Kingdom (published by Amberley Books) and Women of Power in Anglo-Saxon England, (published by Pen & Sword Books)

Author Page
Blog - Casting Light upon the Shadow
Facebook
Website

Twitter