Now, men were busy in the Vale. I have yet said no word of Vale Castle,
built a mile away from the cloister, of hewn stone, goodly and strong.
It lay upon the left horn of St. Sampson's Harbour, near where that holy
man landed with the good news of God in days of old, and its stout
bastions rested on the bare rock, and its walls seemed one with the rock
below, so thick and stout they were, built as Normans alone can build,
to last as long as the rocks, as long as the earth. And in Vale Castle
no lord or baron ruled. It was the Castle and outward defence of the
Vale Cloister, and its lord was the Abbot of the Vale. And within its
ramparts there was room (as we found ere long), in times of danger from
pirate or strange foes, for all the brethren and children of the
Cloister, and for many more besides, so that when the watch-tower fire
sprang into life upon the beacon, and the alarm-bell rang out by night
or day, the folk of the dale came flocking in with their babes and
their most prized goods for shelter beneath the abbot's wing. Vale
Castle feared no pirate-band, and in a short space all our most precious
things could be secured behind those walls snug and safe enough, until
the evil men who had come to alarm our peace steered their long ships
away again, sore dissatisfied with the plunder of our isle. So well
guarded we were, and so strong were our three castles, within whose
walls all who listed could find safety. As, indeed, it proved in the
attack of the great Moor, of which this chronicle will chiefly tell.

Now, the Castle had been built some forty years before, by none other
than the great Cherbourg himself, Duke Robert's engineer. For it chanced
that Duke Robert was royally entertained years ago by Abbot Magloirios,
when he was forced by foul weather to put into L'Ancresse Bay, who, on
his departure, left Cherbourg and other skilled men to build three
castles for their safety against pirates. So it was through Duke
Robert's stay at the Vale that our Castle was made so strong. Thus God