ents of masonry rising above us on the left hand. Here,
then, is the castle; and so in a sense it is. That is, it is part of
its works, within its precincts; but it is not the head work of all. We
go on a little further, and we see signs of mound and ditch plainly
enough. But we do not take in their full grandeur, till we are kindly
admitted within the gate of one of the small holdings into which the
site of the fortress of Roger's rearing is now cut up. Then we see,
indeed, why it was that "Rogerius de Vetulis" was changed into "Rogerius
de Bello Monte."

It is, indeed, a "_bellus mons_" in the sense of commanding a wide and
pleasant outlook. The town and church of Beaumont, from some points the
abbey close below, the wide vale of the Rille and the hills beyond, make
up a cheerful landscape. But if by the "_bellus mons_" we were to
understand a fair natural hill, we should be led astray. The actual site
of Roger's keep is neither a natural hill nor an artificial mound. It is
a piece of the natural hill artificially cut off from the general mass.
The founder chose a point of the hill-side which suited his objects. Its
southern face, towards the open country, was steep enough for purposes
of defence; for the rest, he cut off the piece of ground that was to be
fortified by a gigantic ditch in the form of a horse-shoe. It is a ditch
indeed, one that gladdens the eye that is looking out for such things.
There is not so much of it, but what there is seems as grand as anything
at Arques or Old Sarum. Lilybaeum stands apart; Roger must have had
plenty of labour at his command; but he had not, like the engineers of
Carthage, to dig through the solid rock. It is a ditch to look down on
from above, and also to walk along in its depth, and to look up on each
side. The ground is not absolutely open all round; some obstructions of
farm-buildings, and the like, hinder one from stepping out the
horse-shoe quite as far as it goes; but the top of the mound--if mound
is the right word--is perfectly free. There are fragments of masonry
left everywhere, _but_ there is no continuous wall anywhere, nor any
scrap of detail by which we could fix a date. Still, enough is left for
all purposes of historical association, enough to show in what kind of a
place Roger of _Les Vieilles_ fixed his home. It is not exactly an
eagle's nest; for that kind of dwelling Normandy supplies fewer
opportunities than some other lands. But it comes much more nearly