Someone once said the British are a bastard nation, in reference to there not being one particular tribe of British people who have inhabited the island for thousands of years, but more their being the result of a steady influx of foreigners. But the origin of the people who came to be known to the writers of history as British is still a hotly contested topic, one laced with centuries of intrigue and deception all of its own.
It is said in two of the most famous attempts at chronicling the nation – those of Nennius and Geoffrey of Monmouth – that the country was historically settled by a king known as Brutus, a member of a refugee community from the Trojan war. Both Geoffrey and Nennius claimed to have garnered their information from older sources, that we speculate have since been recovered and obscured by the Romans, or the Catholic Church, who both attempted to totally eradicate local historic knowledge during their repression and subjugation of conquered nations. In their tireless (and thankless) research, Alan Wilson and Baram Blackett have attempted to qualify the claims of Geoffrey of Monmouth and Nennius, and have in fact recovered many more folk stories that tell a similar story to the British works. But their research has been hampered by the red tape of bureaucracy, and a narrow-minded academia, who steadfastly refuse to accept anything other than an Anglo-Saxon origin for their people. The suppression of the Scottish, Welsh and Irish cultures by these same Anglo-Saxons continues to this day, and along with their admiration for Greek and Roman ideals, is the culture of what we know today as English.
Whilst exiled in Greece Brutus made himself known as a great warrior, to the point where he was seen as a potential leader and saviour. ‘His fame spreading over all countries, the Trojans from all parts began to flock to him, desiring under his command, to be freed from subjection to the Greeks.’ So already we have in the origins of Brutus an idea of escaping the Greeks, not admiring them.
During his messianic flight, Brutus and his group encountered a deserted island where they came across a temple devoted to Diana. Making libations to the Goddess he fell asleep by the altar, when he was visited in a dream by Diana, who said to him,
‘Brutus! there lies beyond the Gallic bounds
An island which the western sea surrounds,
By giants once possessed; now few remain
To bar thy entrance, or obstruct thy reign.
To reach that happy shore thy sails employ;
There Fate decrees to raise a second Troy,
And found an empire in thy royal line
Which Time shall ne’er destroy, nor bounds confine.’
They sailed west around Africa and stopped in France to do battle, before continuing on to the Isle then known as Albion, which was still inhabited by ‘the giants of old’. After quickly dispensing with the already dying race of giants Brutus and his people established their ‘Troia Nova’ – New Troy, in London, where Brutus was sworn in as king, upon the London Stone that now sits forlorn behind a faceless grill in Cannon Street.
The remains of this lost tribe, erased from the books of history by an establishment wishing to promote only classical Greco-Roman philosophies and practices, can still be decoded in place names and words of the British Isles. Wilson and Blackett claim it is the language of the Welsh, the Khymri, that is the original language of the Brutans, a language which came with the refugees from their homeland in the Middle-East. Interestingly, Wilson also claims the etymology of the English county name ‘Surrey’ is from Syria, where the Brutans originated. And phonetically, the Welsh, Cornish and French Breton languages are so similar, as to suggest that these are one tongue, separated only by passage of time. So place names such as ‘Ilfracombe’ in Devon, and ‘Blaen Cwm’ in Wales, ie. with the suffix ‘coom’ (which means ‘valley’ in Cymric), are actually no different when spoken – the Cymric pronunciation of the letter ‘W’ being an ‘oo’ sound. Swansea is known as ‘Abertawe’ to the Welsh, ‘Aber’ being a prefix for an estuary. As well as Welsh places such as ‘Aberfan’ and ‘Aberystwyth’, we see this word as far away as ‘Aberdeen’, which suggests the Scottish also once shared a common tongue with the Khymry of Wales.
The Druids, who dwelt all over Europe at one point, were said to have been destroyed finally by the Romans in Anglesey, the small island in the north-west of Wales. If its true that the Welsh were the unblemished descendants of the Brutans, then this chase into the Druid stronghold of Wales suggest to us that the Druids predated the Celts, who supplanted the British before the Romans in turn ‘civilised’ them. The Druids were wise men to the Celts even, who traveled across the Europe of their day to study under them. Old Welsh names for Anglesey include Ynys Dywyll (“Shady” or “Dark Isle”) perhaps for its former groves, and Ynys y Cedairn (“Isle of the Brave”) for its royal courts. (see Bryn Celli Ddu – the mound in the Dark Grove)
In the Welsh countryside, Wilson and Blackett claim to have discovered an ancient zodiac, marked out with mounds and monuments, charting the positions of the twelve constellations of an older zodiac than we know today, much the same as Mary Caine’s Kingston Zodiac, and Katherine Maltwood’s now famous Glastonbury Zodiac, which include the Bird (phoenix, or dove?) instead of the Libra, or scales. Were these zodiac sectors the original boroughs of cities founded by these proto-Britons? It is said the zodiac we know today originated in the Middle-East with the Chaldeans, in around 700 BC, but that their zodiac contains the scales as Libra. It would then make sense that the older Brutan zodiac should contain a different sign for Libra, the Bird.
Below is an interview with the no-nonsense Alan Wilson, on his research into the two King Arthurs, which touches on the subject of the suppression of Brutus, as King of the Britons.
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