Charles R. "Chuck" Dowling

On a windswept moor, not far from the ancient shrine at Stonehenge, during a conference to discuss differences, a meeting where no weapons are allowed, three hundred British leaders are massacred by Saxon warriors who came to the council with knives hidden in their boots. The occurrence passes into infamy in Britain as “The Night of the Long Knives” and ushers onto the scene, twenty five years of continual strife and bloodshed, and the beginning of a century long war between Briton and Saxon.

And into this bubbling cauldron of treachery and hate comes Arthur.

The Hammer of God , a sweeping saga of a people’s fight to survive, tells us his story. It is about Arthur’s heroic rise to become Dux Bellorum (War Chief) of the united British tribes, his campaign to defeat the invaders and then to eventually become the first High King. It is also the story of Christianity’s triumph over the pagan gods of the Druids.

The Hammer of God is about the historic Arthur as he could have been. It is the story of fifth century Britain after the Romans departed. It is not a story of the Middle Ages, some 600 years later, where other writers have placed him. Nor is it the mystical and mythical chronicle of many of the Arthurian tales.

Many of the people who inspired the legends are found in The Hammer of God however, including Merlin, Arthur’s mentor, his parents Uther and Ygraine, Guinevere his future wife, and Medraught and Morgan, his half brother and sister. We also meet the princes and tribal kings of Britain, Kay, Bedwyr, Gawain, Tristan, Gareth, Bors, Lancelot and others; those who become his lieutenants, providing the inspiration for the legendary Round Table.

And we meet the enemy on many battlefields, particularly the barbaric Saxon leaders, Aesc and Aelle

In the first half of the book, we grow with Arthur through his youth and into his teenage years. From time to time seeing flashes of what he is to become when he single handedly kills a wild boar with a knife, a giant bear with nothing but a sword and leads a successful attack on a group of blue tattooed Picts besieging a column of trapped British soldiers; all before his thirteenth birthday.

We meet Dubricious, an Irish Priest, who provides Arthur’s early Christian training, and later becomes his conscience. Brigit, an orphaned faun-like waif found in the woods, becomes a close and valued friend. We are there when she and Merlin fall into a May-December romance while experiencing a number of harrowing events as they travel through enemy camps in disguise, seeking information.

Arthur campaigns with his father, Uther, and his uncle, Ambrosius Aurelanius as they try to hold off the Saxons long enough to time to build up the needed armies. We see Arthur and Guinevere’s love develop and mature. Also during this time we experience the hypocrisy of the Druid’s priests and the brutality of a human sacrifice as the Druids try to reclaim their dominance among the mountain tribes. When Uther and Ambrosius are both assassinated Arthur—although only sixteen years of age—must now take command of the British forces.

Nennius, a monk writing in the eighth century, tells us in his History of the Britons, that Arthur fought twelve battles against the Saxons. In the early part of the second half of the book we relive eleven of those battles as Arthur, calling upon the lessons of Alexander, Caesar, Hannibal and his ancestor Constantine the Great, embarks upon a year long campaign throughout Britain to defeat his enemies.

The final encounter in Nennius’s writings, the climax of The Hammer of God follows shortly after. In a three day battle near Mount Badon in central Britain, thanks to Arthur’s earlier campaigns and the final merging of the British tribes, they crush the Saxons so decisively that a forty year peace ensues; a peace known as Pax Artorius (Arthur’s Peace). Arthur, Dux Bellorum (War Chief) of the united tribes, is finally crowned the first High King of the British people

“A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step .”

Enormous, jagged streaks of lightning ripped the nighttime sky, eight, ten, twelve times in a row, striking and snapping in sinister splendor, the night bursting from stygian black to blinding white with each startling flash. Below, the ocean roiled mightily in seeming response to the demands of the crackling heavens

Rain swept down in whirling, wind-whipped torrents, bending trees and shrubs to its will and lashing the sharp rocky face of the imposing precipice overlooking a boulder-strewn beach. Huge rain-gorged waterfalls, plunged down and down from the top of the cliff until they shattered in great explosions on the strand below. Enormous booms of thunder rolled again and again across the sea, competing mightily with the deafening roar of the mountains of water that slammed against the rocks.

Across from the pebbled strand at the base of the cliff, seen in outline amidst the crackling spidery lightening flashes, stood a wet and shiny rock fortress with looming towers and menacing crenellated turrets.

Intent on reaching that fortress, two cloaked and hooded figures battled the maelstrom, working their way down from the dizzying high precipice to a treacherous rocky spur overlooking the churning waters. Suffering cuts and bruises and risking their lives with each step, it took them nearly an hour to slip and slide along the rocky path that clung to the almost shear wall. Their route, as treacherous as it was, was the only way down, and the only way over to the craggy, flinty castle sitting on the rocky outcrop across from the towering bluff. .

At the low point, between the shore and the castle's outcrop, the sea up-welled in thunderous gray-green breakers ruthlessly slamming the path they needed to travel. They had to pause and time their moves with the surging water. As they waited with apprehension, they looked in awe at white-capped walls of water, four and five times their height, slashing past them.

They stood for a time; waiting; soaking up more and more of the wind-whipped rain. And they shivered. They watched the churning, frothing, angry sea with fear, wondering if their plan was going to work. Then they saw a break, a momentary lull. Wrapping their soaking garments about them, and with a mighty effort of will, they bounded quickly across the opening, leaping from boulder to boulder and finally landing on the other side. They breathed again. The ocean, as if angry at being cheated of its prey, closed behind them with an even mightier roar and crashed against the rocks they had just trod, throwing briny splashes the height of five tall men into the air, spraying them anew.

They turned toward the castle; the only discernable light, a faint glow through a small window at the bottom of the fortress.

The soaked pair, eager to complete their task, moved quickly up the gravel slope to the base of the castle and to the heavy wooden door. The smaller of the two grasped the giant iron ring knocker and banged it three times, the sound echoing loudly throughout the rock structure that loomed above. After a few minutes the door swung open and a swath of yellow light cut into the dark, illuminating the visitors and the path down to the rocks. The two rushed quickly through the portal and bustled into the protecting walls of the castle. The door banged behind them, plunging the path into darkness once again.

A short time later, the two men emerged once more into the brutal night, the larger one holding a bundle under his cloak. Huddling for mutual support, they retraced their path down to the beach, as before, timing their moves with the waves. Again they were fortunate in crossing the watery gauntlet, finding another brief lull when they needed it. The bigger man stumbled once on the slippery rocks, however, nearly dropping his bundle. The smaller one had to seize his arm and steady him.

They wound their way up the rocky wall once more, taking more than an hour to accomplish the feat. The ferocious wind forced continual pauses and delays in their climb as their way took them over many exposed outcrops. The smaller of the two was almost a victim of one of the powerful gusts, before the larger man grabbed him and added his weight to anchor their position.

When they finally topped the precipice, they stopped to regain their breath and their equilibrium. Panting and dripping, they looked across the chasm to the castle. They couldn't be certain, the stone fortress could be seen now only in outline during the jagged lightening flashes, but they thought they saw a dim glow and a figure in a window of one of the towers.

Stopping for only a minute, they turned from the overlook and moved quickly into a wooded area where they were met by two, equally rain soaked people, both women, in a small horse drawn cart. Two saddled horses were tied to the back of the wagon. The large man handed his bundle to one of the women and then he untied the two horses and handed the reins of one to the smaller man.

The woman in the cart quickly tucked the bundle inside her cloak, fumbling to free up a breast as she did so. The baby immediately began to suckle. The other, larger, woman, ignoring the elements, took off her cloak, wrapped it and her arms around the two and cooed to the infant. After hugs were exchanged by all, the smaller of the two men mounted the slick and shiny horse and rode off directly away from the shore and into the night. He had a long way to go. The cart with the two women and its precious cargo, and led by the big man on horseback then inched its way south, parallel to the coast.

Back at the castle, the lonely figure in the window high in the tower had watched amidst lightning flashes until the two men attained the top of the precipice and had disappeared into the wood. Then she turned away and sobbed quietly.