between them; and such was the malignity of his revenge, that he resolved rather to see his country pass under the yoke of the Normans, than continue under the dominion of a chief who could thus forget the hand that had procured him the victory. He therefore made use of every argument most likely to influence the Norman spirit, and prevailed. They returned from their ships and prepared for another campaign; and great was the surprise of <g>Jestyn</g> when he learned that the friends whom he had so lately dismissed laden with the reward of their services, and satisfied with his liberality, were again on shore with the avowed intention of engaging him in mortal conflict. He now lamented his folly in having so rashly broken his promise with Eineon; but that was an error which it was now too late to rectify. The Norman standard was once more waving from the adjoining heights. The soldiers were animated with the prospect of another victory--the rich spoils they were to share--and charmed with the accounts which Eineon had promulgated among them, as baits to their cupidity, of the fertile settlements that here awaited them. The conflict was brief. Jestyn had little to oppose to men who were resolved to possess themselves of the country. Unable to protract the contest, he abandoned his lordship of Glamorgan to the invader, and retired into obscurity--there to meditate on his own folly, and the degradation to which it had reduced him. The Normans, as usual, took the “lion’s share.” They divided the best portions of the soil--all that was most pleasant and productive--among themselves; and left only the mountainous and craggy ground to Eineon, with whatever enjoyment a sense of gratified revenge, and the voluntary subjugation of his country, was calculated to furnish. From this moment the Normans were established in Wales; and soon began to erect those monuments of their sway, which it is our present object to notice and illustrate. [Illustration] <g>Curthose Tower.</g>--The apartment where Prince Robert was confined by his unnatural brother, is traditionally known as “Curthose’s Tower.” So in Chepstow Castle, the keep is distinguished as “Marten’s Tower;” but between the fate of the two prisoners, who have left their names thus associated, there is no resemblance. The more illustrious the captive, the more dismal was the cell in which he was immured. It must have been at all times a wretched dungeon, such only as a malignant fiend would have assigned to its human victim. A ray of light, barely sufficient to distinguish the difference between night and day, is admitted by a small square hole perforated through the wall upwards; and the mere fact of his having existed in this dreary cell for the long period of twenty-six years, proves that Robert Curthose must have possessed no ordinary degree of fortitude and resignation. But the courage inspired by conscious innocence is proof against the machinations of Fortune--