A ninth century Welsh monk. Nennius is accredited with the work Historia Brittonum, ‘History of the Britons’, which was completed just after 800AD. In this work it is stated that Vortigern was king for forty years after the end of Roman Britain. Nennius makes it clear that Vortigern ‘opened the door’ to the Saxons and is therefore depicted as the villain.

There are dates given in this account such as Vortigern’s rise to power in 425AD and the date of the first authorised Saxon settlers in 428AD. Arthur’s name is mentioned in Nennius’ account, unlike in Gildas’.

"In that time, the Saxons strengthened in multitude and grew in Britain…Then Arthur fought against them in those days with the kings of the Britons, but he himself was leader of battles" (Lacy et al 1997:13)

It is here where Arthur is said to have worn the image of Saint Mary on his shoulders.

There is a problem, however, with Nennius’ account in that, although he mentions Arthur, "the passage is should to be based on a lost Welsh poem in Arthur’s praise" (Lacy et al 1997: 13). This raises a huge problem for the historian. It would mean that this hero of the Welsh poem had been lifted out of context and placed in the time of the battle.

The mention of the battle of Badon is perhaps one of the main points in Nennius’ work. It corresponds with Gildas but shows the battle to be ‘Arthur’s battle’. However, again, there is a problem with Nennius’ account of the battle in that ‘his’ Arthur single-handedly killed nine hundred and sixty men. This, to any reader, seems to be an incredible story of fantasy meaning that Arthur had already attained a legendary status by the time of Nennius. Indeed, it is only really from Nennius’ first account that Arthur was even at the battle. Again this raises yet more suspicion.

Hibbert (1969) described two stories mentioned by Nennius. Once concerning a burial monument for Arthur’s dog, Cabal, and another of the tomb of Arthur’s son Anir.

"Anir "was the son of Arthur the soldier," Nennius writes, "and Arthur himself killed him there and buried him. And when men come to measure the length of the mound they find it sometimes six feet, sometimes nine, sometimes twelve, and sometimes fifteen. Whatever length you find it at one time, you will find it different at another, and I myself have proved this to be true." (Page 16)