Twenty-five thousand slates were placed upon the roof, and the queen’s chamber was panelled with Irish oak. By the time Elizabeth came to the throne, the Castle was in a somewhat dilapidated state. From a letter of the Commissioners in 1570, we find that the ditch and rampart on the west part of the Castle was overgrown with moss and small bushes; it contained three acres. The Castle green was let, together with the “old walls and ruinous void romes” there--the lessee to keep it clean for Sessions and Assizes. The Mayor had lately repaired the roof of the hall; the Queen had spent much money on its south aisle, but the north aisle was so greatly decayed that the whole edifice was in danger of falling. After this report,[22] some repairs were probably undertaken. “Do not we see,” I continued, “as we stand and gaze at this splendid structure, the pomp of history sweep slowly past? Here advance Henry I. and his bride Matilda of Scotland,[23] and Cœur de Lion returned from captivity. Henry the Third and the three Edwards were more frequent in their visits and banquets.[24] Here is the studious young William of Wykeham, secretary to Sir John de Scures, Constable of the Castle. What is all this bridal array?--Henry IV. and Joan of Brittany. Here the warlike Henry V., who may be claimed as a Winchester boy, is receiving the French ambassadors[25] who came with three hundred men; and here his gentle son obtains less perishable honours as he lays down the plan of Eton College on the lines of Wykeham’s foundation. Here is the bluff and jovial Henry VIII., holding high festival for the handsome young Emperor Charles V.; and here is melancholy Mary, doating on her faithless Philip. [Sidenote: The Hall.] “James I. gave the Castle to Benjamin Tichborne--a name recalling a recent contest; and Charles II. demolished most of it for the construction of his more luxurious palace. “In Edward the First’s reign the Bishop of St. Andrews though only a prisoner of war who had opposed the King in Scotland, was confined here in irons. It was then the rule rather than the exception for such prisoners to be chained. A Parliament was held here by Isabella and Mortimer, and a cruel scene then followed the incarceration of Edmund of Woodstock. He was brought out in front of the main entrance to the Castle (through the city wall) to be executed. There he was kept “from morn till dewy eve” in a state of painful suspense, for, to the credit of all, no one would be induced to do the cruel deed. At last a prisoner, to save his own life, decapitated him.” “I have often wondered,” observed Mr. Hertford, “how any one could be induced to perform this odious office against the lives of celebrated men. We know the difficulty there was in the case of Charles I., how disguises were used and what suspicions there were as to who were the two executioners.”