All hail to the lordlings of high degree,
Who live not more happy, though greater than we!
Our pastimes to see,
Under every green tree,
In all the gay woodland, right welcome ye be.
The new comers were Wilfred of Ivanhoe, on the Prior of Botolph's
palfrey, and Gurth, who attended him, on the Knight's own
war-horse. The astonishment of Ivanhoe was beyond bounds, when
he saw his master besprinkled with blood, and six or seven dead
bodies lying around in the little glade in which the battle had
taken place. Nor was he less surprised to see Richard
surrounded by so many silvan attendants, the outlaws, as they
seemed to be, of the forest, and a perilous retinue therefore for
a prince. He hesitated whether to address the King as the Black
Knight-errant, or in what other manner to demean himself towards
him. Richard saw his embarrassment.
"Fear not, Wilfred," he said, "to address Richard Plantagenet as
himself, since thou seest him in the company of true English
hearts, although it may be they have been urged a few steps aside
by warm English blood."
"Sir Wilfred of Ivanhoe," said the gallant Outlaw, stepping
forward, "my assurances can add nothing to those of our
sovereign; yet, let me say somewhat proudly, that of men who have
suffered much, he hath not truer subjects than those who now
stand around him."
"I cannot doubt it, brave man," said Wilfred, "since thou art of
the number---But what mean these marks of death and danger? these
slain men, and the bloody armour of my Prince?"
"Treason hath been with us, Ivanhoe," said the King; "but,
thanks to these brave men, treason hath met its meed---But, now I
bethink me, thou too art a traitor," said Richard, smiling; "a
most disobedient traitor; for were not our orders positive, that
thou shouldst repose thyself at Saint Botolph's until thy wound
"It is healed," said Ivanhoe; "it is not of more consequence than
the scratch of a bodkin. But why, oh why, noble Prince, will you
thus vex the hearts of your faithful servants, and expose your
life by lonely journeys and rash adventures, as if it were of no
more value than that of a mere knight-errant, who has no interest
on earth but what lance and sword may procure him?"
"And Richard Plantagenet," said the King, "desires no more fame
than his good lance and sword may acquire him---and Richard
Plantagenet is prouder of achieving an adventure, with only his
good sword, and his good arm to speed, than if he led to battle
a host of an hundred thousand armed men."
"But your kingdom, my Liege," said Ivanhoe, "your kingdom is
threatened with dissolution and civil war---your subjects menaced
with every species of evil, if deprived of their sovereign in
some of those dangers which it is your daily pleasure to incur,
and from which you have but this moment narrowly escaped."
"Ho! ho! my kingdom and my subjects?" answered Richard,
impatiently; "I tell thee, Sir Wilfred, the best of them are most
willing to repay my follies in kind---For example, my very
faithful servant, Wilfred of Ivanhoe, will not obey my positive
commands, and yet reads his king a homily, because he does not
walk exactly by his advice. Which of us has most reason to
upbraid the other?---Yet forgive me, my faithful Wilfred. The
time I have spent, and am yet to spend in concealment, is, as I
explained to thee at Saint Botolph's, necessary to give my
friends and faithful nobles time to assemble their forces, that
when Richard's return is announced, he should be at the head of
such a force as enemies shall tremble to face, and thus subdue
the meditated treason, without even unsheathing a sword.
Estoteville and Bohun will not be strong enough to move forward
to York for twenty-four hours. I must have news of Salisbury
from the south; and of Beauchamp, in Warwickshire; and of Multon
and Percy in the north. The Chancellor must make sure of London.
Too sudden an appearance would subject me to dangers, other than
my lance and sword, though backed by the bow of bold Robin, or
the quarter-staff of Friar Tuck, and the horn of the sage Wamba,
may be able to rescue me from."
Wilfred bowed in submission, well knowing how vain it was to
contend with the wild spirit of chivalry which so often impelled
his master upon dangers which he might easily have avoided, or
rather, which it was unpardonable in him to have sought out. The
young knight sighed, therefore, and held his peace; while
Richard, rejoiced at having silenced his counsellor, though his
heart acknowledged the justice of the charge he had brought
against him, went on in conversation with Robin Hood.---"King of
Outlaws," he said, "have you no refreshment to offer to your
brother sovereign? for these dead knaves have found me both in
exercise and appetite."
"In troth," replied the Outlaw, "for I scorn to lie to your
Grace, our larder is chiefly supplied with---" He stopped, and
was somewhat embarrassed.
"With venison, I suppose?" said Richard, gaily; "better food at
need there can be none---and truly, if a king will not remain at
home and slay his own game, methinks he should not brawl too loud
if he finds it killed to his hand."
"If your Grace, then," said Robin, "will again honour with your
presence one of Robin Hood's places of rendezvous, the venison
shall not be lacking; and a stoup of ale, and it may be a cup of
reasonably good wine, to relish it withal."
The Outlaw accordingly led the way, followed by the buxom
Monarch, more happy, probably, in this chance meeting with Robin
Hood and his foresters, than he would have been in again assuming
his royal state, and presiding over a splendid circle of peers
and nobles. Novelty in society and adventure were the zest of
life to Richard Coeur-de-Lion, and it had its highest relish when
enhanced by dangers encountered and surmounted. In the
lion-hearted King, the brilliant, but useless character, of a
knight of romance, was in a great measure realized and revived;
and the personal glory which he acquired by his own deeds of
arms, was far more dear to his excited imagination, than that
which a course of policy and wisdom would have spread around his
government. Accordingly, his reign was like the course of a
brilliant and rapid meteor, which shoots along the face of
Heaven, shedding around an unnecessary and portentous light,
which is instantly swallowed up by universal darkness; his feats
of chivalry furnishing themes for bards and minstrels, but
affording none of those solid benefits to his country on which
history loves to pause, and hold up as an example to posterity.
But in his present company Richard showed to the greatest
imaginable advantage. He was gay, good-humoured, and fond of
manhood in every rank of life.
Beneath a huge oak-tree the silvan repast was hastily prepared
for the King of England, surrounded by men outlaws to his
government, but who now formed his court and his guard. As the
flagon went round, the rough foresters soon lost their awe for
the presence of Majesty. The song and the jest were exchanged
---the stories of former deeds were told with advantage; and at
length, and while boasting of their successful infraction of the
laws, no one recollected they were speaking in presence of their
natural guardian. The merry King, nothing heeding his dignity
any more than his company, laughed, quaffed, and jested among the
jolly band. The natural and rough sense of Robin Hood led him to
be desirous that the scene should be closed ere any thing should
occur to disturb its harmony, the more especially that he
observed Ivanhoe's brow clouded with anxiety. "We are honoured,"
he said to Ivanhoe, apart, "by the presence of our gallant
Sovereign; yet I would not that he dallied with time, which the
circumstances of his kingdom may render precious."
"It is well and wisely spoken, brave Robin Hood," said Wilfred,
apart; "and know, moreover, that they who jest with Majesty even
in its gayest mood are but toying with the lion's whelp, which,
on slight provocation, uses both fangs and claws."
"You have touched the very cause of my fear," said the Outlaw;
"my men are rough by practice and nature, the King is hasty as
well as good-humoured; nor know I how soon cause of offence may
arise, or how warmly it may be received---it is time this revel
were broken off."
"It must be by your management then, gallant yeoman," said
Ivanhoe; "for each hint I have essayed to give him serves only to
induce him to prolong it."
"Must I so soon risk the pardon and favour of my Sovereign?" said
Robin Hood, pausing for all instant; "but by Saint Christopher,
it shall be so. I were undeserving his grace did I not peril it
for his good.---Here, Scathlock, get thee behind yonder thicket,
and wind me a Norman blast on thy bugle, and without an instant's
delay on peril of your life."
Scathlock obeyed his captain, and in less than five minutes the
revellers were startled by the sound of his horn.
"It is the bugle of Malvoisin," said the Miller, starting to his
feet, and seizing his bow. The Friar dropped the flagon, and
grasped his quarter-staff. Wamba stopt short in the midst of a
jest, and betook himself to sword and target. All the others
stood to their weapons.
Men of their precarious course of life change readily from the
banquet to the battle; and, to Richard, the exchange seemed but a
succession of pleasure. He called for his helmet and the most
cumbrous parts of his armour, which he had laid aside; and while
Gurth was putting them on, he laid his strict injunctions on
Wilfred, under pain of his highest displeasure, not to engage in
the skirmish which he supposed was approaching.
"Thou hast fought for me an hundred times, Wilfred,---and I have
seen it. Thou shalt this day look on, and see how Richard will
fight for his friend and liegeman."
In the meantime, Robin Hood had sent off several of his followers
in different directions, as if to reconnoitre the enemy; and when
he saw the company effectually broken up, he approached Richard,
who was now completely armed, and, kneeling down on one knee,
craved pardon of his Sovereign.
"For what, good yeoman?" said Richard, somewhat impatiently.
"Have we not already granted thee a full pardon for all
transgressions? Thinkest thou our word is a feather, to be blown
backward and forward between us? Thou canst not have had time to
commit any new offence since that time?"
"Ay, but I have though," answered the yeoman, "if it be an
offence to deceive my prince for his own advantage. The bugle
you have heard was none of Malvoisin's, but blown by my
direction, to break off the banquet, lest it trenched upon hours
of dearer import than to be thus dallied with."
He then rose from his knee, folded his arm on his bosom, and in a
manner rather respectful than submissive, awaited the answer of
the King,---like one who is conscious he may have given offence,
yet is confident in the rectitude of his motive. The blood
rushed in anger to the countenance of Richard; but it was the
first transient emotion, and his sense of justice instantly
"The King of Sherwood," he said, "grudges his venison and his
wine-flask to the King of England? It is well, bold Robin!---but
when you come to see me in merry London, I trust to be a less
niggard host. Thou art right, however, good fellow. Let us
therefore to horse and away---Wilfred has been impatient this
hour. Tell me, bold Robin, hast thou never a friend in thy band,
who, not content with advising, will needs direct thy motions,
and look miserable when thou dost presume to act for thyself?"
"Such a one," said Robin, "is my Lieutenant, Little John, who is
even now absent on an expedition as far as the borders of
Scotland; and I will own to your Majesty, that I am sometimes
displeased by the freedom of his councils---but, when I think
twice, I cannot be long angry with one who can have no motive for
his anxiety save zeal for his master's service."
"Thou art right, good yeoman," answered Richard; "and if I had
Ivanhoe, on the one hand, to give grave advice, and recommend it
by the sad gravity of his brow, and thee, on the other, to trick
me into what thou thinkest my own good, I should have as little
the freedom of mine own will as any king in Christendom or
Heathenesse.---But come, sirs, let us merrily on to Coningsburgh,
and think no more on't."
Robin Hood assured them that he had detached a party in the
direction of the road they were to pass, who would not fail to
discover and apprize them of any secret ambuscade; and that he
had little doubt they would find the ways secure, or, if
otherwise, would receive such timely notice of the danger as
would enable them to fall back on a strong troop of archers, with
which he himself proposed to follow on the same route.
The wise and attentive precautions adopted for his safety touched
Richard's feelings, and removed any slight grudge which he might
retain on account of the deception the Outlaw Captain had
practised upon him. He once more extended his hand to Robin
Hood, assured him of his full pardon and future favour, as well
as his firm resolution to restrain the tyrannical exercise of the
forest rights and other oppressive laws, by which so many English
yeomen were driven into a state of rebellion. But Richard's good
intentions towards the bold Outlaw were frustrated by the King's
untimely death; and the Charter of the Forest was extorted from
the unwilling hands of King John when he succeeded to his heroic
brother. As for the rest of Robin Hood's career, as well as the
tale of his treacherous death, they are to be found in those
black-letter garlands, once sold at the low and easy rate of one
"Now cheaply purchased at their weight in gold."
The Outlaw's opinion proved true; and the King, attended by
Ivanhoe, Gurth, and Wamba, arrived, without any interruption,
within view of the Castle of Coningsburgh, while the sun was yet
in the horizon.
There are few more beautiful or striking scenes in England, than
are presented by the vicinity of this ancient Saxon fortress.
The soft and gentle river Don sweeps through an amphitheatre, in
which cultivation is richly blended with woodland, and on a
mount, ascending from the river, well defended by walls and
ditches, rises this ancient edifice, which, as its Saxon name
implies, was, previous to the Conquest, a royal residence of the
kings of England. The outer walls have probably been added by the
Normans, but the inner keep bears token of very great antiquity.
It is situated on a mount at one angle of the inner court, and
forms a complete circle of perhaps twenty-five feet in diameter.
The wall is of immense thickness, and is propped or defended by
six huge external buttresses which project from the circle, and
rise up against the sides of the tower as if to strengthen or to
support it. These massive buttresses are solid when they arise
from the foundation, and a good way higher up; but are hollowed
out towards the top, and terminate in a sort of turrets
communicating with the interior of the keep itself. The distant
appearance of this huge building, with these singular
accompaniments, is as interesting to the lovers of the
picturesque, as the interior of the castle is to the eager
antiquary, whose imagination it carries back to the days of the
Heptarchy. A barrow, in the vicinity of the castle, is pointed
out as the tomb of the memorable Hengist; and various monuments,
of great antiquity and curiosity, are shown in the neighbouring
* Note J. Castle of Coningsburgh.
When Coeur-de-Lion and his retinue approached this rude yet
stately building, it was not, as at present, surrounded by
external fortifications. The Saxon architect had exhausted his
art in rendering the main keep defensible, and there was no other
circumvallation than a rude barrier of palisades.
A huge black banner, which floated from the top of the tower,
announced that the obsequies of the late owner were still in the
act of being solemnized. It bore no emblem of the deceased's
birth or quality, for armorial bearings were then a novelty among
the Norman chivalry themselves and, were totally unknown to the
Saxons. But above the gate was another banner, on which the
figure of a white horse, rudely painted, indicated the nation and
rank of the deceased, by the well-known symbol of Hengist and his
All around the castle was a scene of busy commotion; for such
funeral banquets were times of general and profuse hospitality,
which not only every one who could claim the most distant
connexion with the deceased, but all passengers whatsoever, were
invited to partake. The wealth and consequence of the deceased
Athelstane, occasioned this custom to be observed in the fullest
Numerous parties, therefore, were seen ascending and descending
the hill on which the castle was situated; and when the King and
his attendants entered the open and unguarded gates of the
external barrier, the space within presented a scene not easily
reconciled with the cause of the assemblage. In one place cooks
were toiling to roast huge oxen, and fat sheep; in another,
hogsheads of ale were set abroach, to be drained at the freedom
of all comers. Groups of every description were to be seen
devouring the food and swallowing the liquor thus abandoned to
their discretion. The naked Saxon serf was drowning the sense
of his half-year's hunger and thirst, in one day of gluttony and
drunkenness---the more pampered burgess and guild-brother was
eating his morsel with gust, or curiously criticising the
quantity of the malt and the skill of the brewer. Some few of
the poorer Norman gentry might also be seen, distinguished by
their shaven chins and short cloaks, and not less so by their
keeping together, and looking with great scorn on the whole
solemnity, even while condescending to avail themselves of the
good cheer which was so liberally supplied.
Mendicants were of course assembled by the score, together with
strolling soldiers returned from Palestine, (according to their
own account at least,) pedlars were displaying their wares,
travelling mechanics were enquiring after employment, and
wandering palmers, hedge-priests, Saxon minstrels, and Welsh
bards, were muttering prayers, and extracting mistuned dirges
from their harps, crowds, and rotes.*
* The crowth, or crowd, was a species of violin. The rote a
sort of guitar, or rather hurdy-gurdy, the strings of
which were managed by a wheel, from which the instrument
took its name.
One sent forth the praises of Athelstane in a doleful panegyric;
another, in a Saxon genealogical poem, rehearsed the uncouth and
harsh names of his noble ancestry. Jesters and jugglers were not
awanting, nor was the occasion of the assembly supposed to render
the exercise of their profession indecorous or improper. Indeed
the ideas of the Saxons on these occasions were as natural as
they were rude. If sorrow was thirsty, there was drink---if
hungry, there was food---if it sunk down upon and saddened the
heart, here were the means supplied of mirth, or at least of
amusement. Nor did the assistants scorn to avail themselves of
those means of consolation, although, every now and then, as if
suddenly recollecting the cause which had brought them together,
the men groaned in unison, while the females, of whom many were
present, raised up their voices and shrieked for very woe.
Such was the scene in the castle-yard at Coningsburgh when it was
entered by Richard and his followers. The seneschal or steward
deigned not to take notice of the groups of inferior guests who
were perpetually entering and withdrawing, unless so far as was
necessary to preserve order; nevertheless he was struck by the
good mien of the Monarch and Ivanhoe, more especially as he
imagined the features of the latter were familiar to him.
Besides, the approach of two knights, for such their dress
bespoke them, was a rare event at a Saxon solemnity, and could
not but be regarded as a sort of honour to the deceased and his
family. And in his sable dress, and holding in his hand his
white wand of office, this important personage made way through
the miscellaneous assemblage of guests, thus conducting Richard
and Ivanhoe to the entrance of the tower. Gurth and Wamba
speedily found acquaintances in the court-yard, nor presumed to
intrude themselves any farther until their presence should be
NOTE TO CHAPTER XLI.
Note J.---Castle of Coningsburgh.
When I last saw this interesting ruin of ancient days, one of the
very few remaining examples of Saxon fortification, I was
strongly impressed with the desire of tracing out a sort of
theory on the subject, which, from some recent acquaintance with
the architecture of the ancient Scandinavians, seemed to me
peculiarly interesting. I was, however, obliged by circumstances
to proceed on my journey, without leisure to take more than a
transient view of Coningsburgh. Yet the idea dwells so strongly
in my mind, that I feel considerably tempted to write a page or
two in detailing at least the outline of my hypothesis, leaving
better antiquaries to correct or refute conclusions which are
perhaps too hastily drawn.
Those who have visited the Zetland Islands, are familiar with the
description of castles called by the inhabitants Burghs; and by
the Highlanders---for they are also to be found both in the
Western Isles and on the mainland---Duns. Pennant has engraved a
view of the famous Dun-Dornadilla in Glenelg; and there are many
others, all of them built after a peculiar mode of architecture,
which argues a people in the most primitive state of society.
The most perfect specimen is that upon the island of Mousa, near
to the mainland of Zetland, which is probably in the same state
as when inhabited.
It is a single round tower, the wall curving in slightly, and
then turning outward again in the form of a dice-box, so that the
defenders on the top might the better protect the base. It is
formed of rough stones, selected with care, and laid in courses
or circles, with much compactness, but without cement of any
kind. The tower has never, to appearance, had roofing of any
sort; a fire was made in the centre of the space which it
encloses, and originally the building was probably little more
than a wall drawn as a sort of screen around the great council
fire of the tribe. But, although the means or ingenuity of the
builders did not extend so far as to provide a roof, they
supplied the want by constructing apartments in the interior of
the walls of the tower itself. The circumvallation formed a
double enclosure, the inner side of which was, in fact, two feet
or three feet distant from the other, and connected by a
concentric range of long flat stones, thus forming a series of
concentric rings or stories of various heights, rising to the top
of the tower. Each of these stories or galleries has four
windows, facing directly to the points of the compass, and rising
of course regularly above each other. These four perpendicular
ranges of windows admitted air, and, the fire being kindled,
heat, or smoke at least, to each of the galleries. The access
from gallery to gallery is equally primitive. A path, on the
principle of an inclined plane, turns round and round the
building like a screw, and gives access to the different stories,
intersecting each of them in its turn, and thus gradually rising
to the top of the wall of the tower. On the outside there are no
windows; and I may add, that an enclosure of a square, or
sometimes a round form, gave the inhabitants of the Burgh an
opportunity to secure any sheep or cattle which they might
Such is the general architecture of that very early period when
the Northmen swept the seas, and brought to their rude houses,
such as I have described them, the plunder of polished nations.
In Zetland there are several scores of these Burghs, occupying in
every case, capes, headlands, islets, and similar places of
advantage singularly well chosen. I remember the remains of one
upon an island in a small lake near Lerwick, which at high tide
communicates with the sea, the access to which is very ingenious,
by means of a causeway or dike, about three or four inches under
the surface of the water. This causeway makes a sharp angle in
its approach to the Burgh. The inhabitants, doubtless, were well
acquainted with this, but strangers, who might approach in a
hostile manner, and were ignorant of the curve of the causeway,
would probably plunge into the lake, which is six or seven feet
in depth at the least. This must have been the device of some
Vauban or Cohorn of those early times.
The style of these buildings evinces that the architect possessed
neither the art of using lime or cement of any kind, nor the
skill to throw an arch, construct a roof, or erect a stair; and
yet, with all this ignorance, showed great ingenuity in selecting
the situation of Burghs, and regulating the access to them, as
well as neatness and regularity in the erection, since the
buildings themselves show a style of advance in the arts scarcely
consistent with the ignorance of so many of the principal
branches of architectural knowledge.
I have always thought, that one of the most curious and valuable
objects of antiquaries has been to trace the progress of society,
by the efforts made in early ages to improve the rudeness of
their first expedients, until they either approach excellence,
or, as is more frequently the case, are supplied by new and
fundamental discoveries, which supersede both the earlier and
ruder system, and the improvements which have been ingrafted
upon it. For example, if we conceive the recent discovery of
gas to be so much improved and adapted to domestic use, as to
supersede all other modes of producing domestic light; we can
already suppose, some centuries afterwards, the heads of a whole
Society of Antiquaries half turned by the discovery of a pair of
patent snuffers, and by the learned theories which would be
brought forward to account for the form and purpose of so
singular an implement.
Following some such principle, I am inclined to regard the
singular Castle of Coningsburgh---I mean the Saxon part of it
---as a step in advance from the rude architecture, if it
deserves the name, which must have been common to the Saxons as
to other Northmen. The builders had attained the art of using
cement, and of roofing a building,---great improvements on the
original Burgh. But in the round keep, a shape only seen in the
most ancient castles---the chambers excavated in the thickness of
the walls and buttresses---the difficulty by which access is
gained from one story to those above it, Coningsburgh still
retains the simplicity of its origin, and shows by what slow
degrees man proceeded from occupying such rude and inconvenient
lodgings, as were afforded by the galleries of the Castle of
Mousa, to the more splendid accommodations of the Norman castles,
with all their stern and Gothic graces.
I am ignorant if these remarks are new, or if they will be
confirmed by closer examination; but I think, that, on a hasty
observation, Coningsburgh offers means of curious study to
those who may wish to trace the history of architecture back to
the times preceding the Norman Conquest.
It would be highly desirable that a cork model should be taken of
the Castle of Mousa, as it cannot be well understood by a plan.
The Castle of Coningsburgh is thus described:---
"The castle is large, the outer walls standing on a pleasant
ascent from the river, but much overtopt by a high hill, on which
the town stands, situated at the head of a rich and magnificent
vale, formed by an amphitheatre of woody hills, in which flows
the gentle Don. Near the castle is a barrow, said to be
Hengist's tomb. The entrance is flanked to the left by a round
tower, with a sloping base, and there are several similar in the
outer wall the entrance has piers of a gate, and on the east side
the ditch and bank are double and very steep. On the top of the
churchyard wall is a tombstone, on which are cut in high relief,
two ravens, or such-like birds. On the south side of the
churchyard lies an ancient stone, ridged like a coffin, on which
is carved a man on horseback; and another man with a shield
encountering a vast winged serpent, and a man bearing a shield
behind him. It was probably one of the rude crosses not uncommon
in churchyards in this county. See it engraved on the plate of
crosses for this volume, plate 14. fig. 1. The name of
Coningsburgh, by which this castle goes in the old editions of
the Britannia, would lead one to suppose it the residence of the
Saxon kings. It afterwards belonged to King Harold. The
Conqueror bestowed it on William de Warren, with all its
privileges and jurisdiction, which are said to have extended over
twenty-eight towns. At the corner of the area, which is of an
irregular form, stands the great tower, or keep, placed on a
small hill of its own dimensions, on which lies six vast
projecting buttresses, ascending in a steep direction to prop and
support the building, and continued upwards up the side as
turrets. The tower within forms a complete circle, twenty-one
feet in diameter, the walls fourteen feet thick. The ascent into
the tower is by an exceeding deep flight of steep steps, four
feet and a half wide, on the south side leading to a low doorway,
over which is a circular arch crossed by a great transom stone.
Within this door is the staircase which ascends straight through
the thickness of the wall, not communicating with the room on the
first floor, in whose centre is the opening to the dungeon.
Neither of these lower rooms is lighted except from a hole in the
floor of the third story; the room in which, as well as in that
above it, is finished with compact smooth stonework, both having
chimney-pieces, with an arch resting on triple clustered pillars.
In the third story, or guard-chamber, is a small recess with a
loop-hole, probably a bedchamber, and in that floor above a niche
for a saint or holy-water pot. Mr. King imagines this a Saxon
castle of the first ages of the Heptarchy. Mr. Watson thus
describes it. From the first floor to the second story, (third
from the ground,) is a way by a stair in the wall five feet wide.
The next staircase is approached by a ladder, and ends at the
fourth story from the ground. Two yards from the door, at the
head of this stair, is an opening nearly east, accessible by
treading on the ledge of the wall, which diminishes eight inches
each story; and this last opening leads into a room or chapel
ten feet by twelve, and fifteen or sixteen high, arched with
free-stone, and supported by small circular columns of the same,
the capitals and arches Saxon. It has an east window, and on
each side in the wall, about four feet from the ground, a stone
basin with a hole and iron pipe to convey the water into or
through the wall. This chapel is one of the buttresses, but no
sign of it without, for even the window, though large within, is
only a long narrow loop-hole, scarcely to be seen without. On
the left side of this chapel is a small oratory, eight by six in
the thickness of the wall, with a niche in the wall, and
enlightened by a like loop-hole. The fourth stair from the
ground, ten feet west from the chapel door, leads to the top of
the tower through the thickness of the wall, which at top is but
three yards. Each story is about fifteen feet high, so that the
tower will be seventy-five feet from the ground. The inside
forms a circle, whose diameter may be about twelve feet. The well
at the bottom of the dungeon is piled with stones."---Gough's
"Edition Of Camden's Britannia". Second Edition, vol. iii. p.