The most interesting of the early Lords was Robert de Montalt, who had a feud and a lawsuit with the people of Lynn. Lynn, it is pretty clear, had ceased to be a marsh by that time, and the two communities were far too adjacent to one another for friendly feeling to subsist. De Montalt, too, claimed certain rights in connection with the tolbooth and tolls of Lynn, which were not to the taste of the free and independent burghers of Lynn. It so fell out that one day de Montalt and his followers were in Lynn when they were espied by the burghers. Thereupon Nicholas de Northampton and others raised the town against them, chased them to "his dwelling-house"--surely hardly Castle Rising--besieged it, broke open the doors, beat him and his men, stripped them of weapons, money and jewels to the value of £40, kept him in durance for two days, and released him only upon his solemn promise in the market-place to relinquish all actions against the Mayor and all claims against the Corporation. De Montalt made his promise and departed; but he certainly did not keep the spirit of the compact extorted from him by duress, for he had the law of the Corporation of Lynn, secured judgment for £6000, a huge sum in those days, and, more than that, he actually got £4000, for which he compromised, and Lynn was taxed for years to pay the money by instalments. Of a surety Robert de Montalt laughed best over that quarrel. In the case of the next, and for our purposes, the last inmate of Castle Rising, we have an illustration of the troublesome manner in which industrious diggers after facts destroy established and easily assimilated statements by historians. In the case of Isabella, the She-wolf of France, whose paramour Mortimer had caused her husband, Edward II, to be murdered with unexampled barbarity in Berkeley Castle, it was nice and easy to learn that, after the accession of Edward III and the fall and execution of Mortimer, "the Queen Mother was deprived of her enormous jointure, and shut up in the Castle of Rising, where she spent the remaining twenty-seven years of her life in obscurity." If ever there was a thoroughly bad woman, that woman was Isabella; and to dispose of her in a single sentence was nice and simple. Unhappily it seems, like the story of Alfred's cakes and other cherished traditions, to be entirely wrong. While Isabella was at Rising Edward allowed her £3000 a year first, and £4000 a year later; letters patent under her hand were issued from her "Castle of Hertford" in the twentieth year of Edward III; Edward III visited her often at Castle Rising; she was allowed to make a pilgrimage to Walsingham (which after all was quite near); she visited Norwich with Edward III and his Queen in 1344; and she died at Hertford Castle, having been there since 1357. In fact neither the sufferings nor the obscurity of the She-wolf of France were of a striking character.