The Apocalypse and the Return of the King
Universal history, as understood by ancient and mediæval civilisations, reveals recurring patterns that continue to resonate through time. Among the most significant of these patterns is the interplay between Christ and Antichrist, a dynamic that has shaped Western Christian thought from Byzantium to mediæval Europe and beyond.
It's a pattern that helps us navigate contemporary circumstances by revealing archetypal figures and events that repeatedly emerge throughout history.
The Pattern of Return
Central to this understanding is a distinctive pattern: a principality or figure seemingly eradicated, only to reappear unexpectedly from the margins. This motif manifests across numerous historical and legendary contexts, revealing a deeper structure to human experience and divine providence.
Mithridates VI of Pontus exemplifies an early instance of this pattern. This 1st-century BC ruler descended from both Alexander the Great and Cyrus the Great, positioning himself as heir to Greek and Persian traditions.
His life bore messianic characteristics, a comet appeared at his birth, his mother attempted to murder him at age ten, and he spent the next 10-15 years in hiding amongst wild tribes on the fringes of Anatolian civilisation. During this exile, he forged alliances and developed the legendary mithridatum, a universal antidote composed of small amounts of various poisons. Upon his return, he poisoned his mother, reclaimed his kingdom, and became Rome's most formidable enemy since Hannibal Barca.
Following his eventual defeat and death, legends immediately arose claiming Mithridates had not truly perished. Romans believed he had travelled north to Scandinavia with his Amazon warrior wife, becoming the progenitor of the Gothic peoples who would later invade Rome. The Romans identified him with Odin, establishing the foundational pattern: a principality cut off, only to reappear unexpectedly elsewhere.
This pattern transferred to Nero after his death. The Sibylline Oracles propagated beliefs that Nero had escaped to Persia, from which he would return as an Antichrist figure, God's instrument of judgement against Rome. Nero's character embodied a peculiar duality: extreme decadence and tyranny simultaneously, imposing his darkness upon others through oppressive rule. He considered himself an artist, his purported last words being, "How great an artist the world is losing!"
The modern era has witnessed a normalisation of entertainment figures occupying political leadership—a phenomenon unthinkable in past centuries. Ancient Roman society scorned actors and dancers as the lowest stratum, beneath even prostitutes in respectability. Yet today, figures transitioning between entertainment and governance illustrate this shift, reflecting Nero's legacy as the archetypal spectacle-politician.
The Arthurian Cycle: Christ and Antichrist Interwoven
The Arthurian legend provides perhaps the most developed mediæval expression of this pattern. Arthur himself embodies a Christ figure, a righteous king establishing a golden age, founding the Round Table as a symbol of equality and justice. Yet if Arthur contains Christ, he must also contain the Antichrist.
This duality emerges from Arthur's very conception. Uther Pendragon, a shape-shifter, begets Arthur with Princess Egrain of Cornwall under ambiguous circumstances. Though later versions clarify the legitimacy of Arthur's birth, themes of illegitimacy never fully disappear, instead transferring to other characters. Arthur's relationship with Queen Guinevere remains mysteriously sterile, yet he sires Mordred through accidental incest with his half-sister Morgause, Queen of Orkney.
Morgause dwells at the edge of the world, the symbolic margin from which transformative forces emerge. She and her sister Morgan le Fay are associated with witchcraft, and Arthur's sterility is foreshadowed in the legend of Excalibur. Whilst Arthur retains the sword capable of inflicting unhealable wounds, Morgan le Fay tricks him out of Excalibur's scabbard, which possessed the power to heal any injury. She casts it into a lake, symbolically "stealing Arthur's seed" and ensuring his inability to sire a legitimate heir.
Mordred, the illegitimate son and nephew, becomes the instrument of the kingdom's downfall. He reveals the adulterous affair between Lancelot and Guinevere, forcing Arthur to confront the sin publicly. This leads to the destruction of the Round Table and the symbolic end of the Trojan-Roman-British line.
The legend culminates at the apocalyptic battle of Camlann, where Mordred and Arthur mortally wound each other. Significantly, Mordred wields Clarent, Arthur's ceremonial sword of peace, never meant for violence, reflecting the Antichrist's association with false promises of peace.
Arthur's death involves two movements: Excalibur returns to the Lady of the Lake, re-entering its original place, whilst Arthur himself is taken to Avalon to be healed by three magical queens, including Morgan le Fay. This suggests a transformation and reintegration of challenging elements.
Guinevere and Lancelot, through monastic repentance, transform the sterility of Arthur's reign into consecrated celibacy, a form of resurrection. Arthur becomes the once and future king, destined to return to Britain in the eschaton, springing forth from an unexpected margin. Even dark elements like Morgan le Fay are encompassed within the ultimate transformation of history.
Imperial Legends of Return
Beyond Arthur, this pattern manifests across European legend. Mediæval stories circulated about Charlemagne or Frederick II returning to lead Christian armies in final confrontation. Denmark preserves legends of Holger Danske, one of Charlemagne's paladins, slumbering until Denmark's hour of need.
Byzantine tradition holds that Constantine XI Palaiologos, the last Byzantine Emperor, did not die defending Constantinople but was turned into marble by an angel, buried beneath the city gates, awaiting future awakening.
Concurrently, stories tell of priests serving the liturgy during the attack entering the city walls without completing the service, promised to re-emerge and serve the last liturgy at the end of time. This aligns with Byzantine insistence on the liturgical pattern of the world, where communion represents the eschaton—"the life of the age to come."
The Apocalypse of Pseudo-Methodius prophesies the Last King of the Romans, whose lineage secretly survives within Ethiopia. In the final days, this emperor will manifest, leading a last moment of Christian revival.
Before the Antichrist's arrival, he will remove his crown, place it on the cross, and deliver the kingdom of Christians to God. The cross and crown will then be taken into heaven, symbolising the end of earthly empire and its full vesting in Christ.
This fulfils the prophecy of David: "Ethiopia shall stretch out her hands unto God." In Orthodox practice, bishops wearing the sakkos—an imperial vestment—signifies that the kingdom continues, now fully vested in Christ, with the bishop as a living icon of Christ within the community.
Even modern phenomena reflect this ancient pattern. The veneration of Tsar Nicholas II among young Western converts to Orthodoxy demonstrates the cut-off seed springing up in unexpected places, linking extreme east and extreme west in a saintly figure. America itself, often considered the ultimate margin, is seen as a place where both degeneracy and intense spiritual life coexist.
The patterns of the Apocalypse and the Return of the King reveal a cyclical, fractal understanding of history. Principalities and figures are cut off only to resurface from the margins.
This pattern is embodied by both Christ and the Antichrist, the latter acting as a dark mirror of the former, making discernment challenging. The Antichrist's appearance can deceive even the elect by mimicking resurrection.
Yet this highlights the mystery of how all things participate in the eschaton in a transformed way. Even elements of darkness and breakdown are brought together, forming a new body from what existed before. Whilst some elements may remain eternally outside the walls of the New Jerusalem, the prevailing image is one of gathering the glories of all nations.
The cessation of the sea (symbolising the absence of remainder) signifies ultimate completion. This narrative of return and transformation provides comfort in the ultimate victory of Christ, whose final revelation will encompass all things.