It was, according to my firm belief, entirely in consequence of their private differences that, when the wars {106}of the Roses broke out, the two Norman noblemen took different sides, the Count of St. Aunay standing forward boldly for the House of York, whilst the Lord of Guerre-à-mort was Lancastrian to the backbone. As the latter was a leader of great repute, and could muster around his standard no inconsiderable number of retainers, he might probably have rendered great service to the cause he had espoused if he had acted with those well-known men who led its armies and managed its councils. But the Baron greatly preferred going his own way and fighting for his own hand and as soon as the country was well into the war, and everybody was harassing and worrying everybody else as much as they could, he determined that by far the best thing he could do to aid Henry of Lancaster was to cross the river and demolish the Castle of St. Aunay. Accordingly, he collected his forces, summoned his vassals and friends from all quarters and prepared for the expedition. I remember, as well as if it were but yesterday, when the Baron’s army was halted along my banks preparatory to their crossing the river early on the following morning. The old chieftain himself, mounted on his powerful black charger, from whose eyes and nostrils the fire of war seemed to stream forth as he impatiently pawed the ground, rode out upon a hill above his troops, and gazed upon the scene before him. The moon was rising behind the distant hills, the evening was calm and still; but the heavens were cloudy, and strange lights from time to time darted across the sky, as if presaging the days of war and bloodshed which were about to come upon unhappy England. The old Baron was {107}completely armed, and his long, straggling beard fell down upon his horse’s mane before him as he sat erect in his saddle. I saw him elevate his mighty sword and shield, raising each arm on high as he looked with flashing eye and threatening gesture upon the country upon the other side of the river, and then and there he vowed a solemn vow that before he recrossed the Thames the Castle of St. Aunay should be sacked, his pride lowered, and his banner trailed in the dust. On high he shook his weapon as he took the oath, and full well I knew that the proud Norman would not fail to keep it, unless his foeman (who was probably taking an oath of a similar character about the same time) should have strength or cunning enough to prevent its accomplishment. [Illustration: 121]