Strange as the
circumstance may now appear, Stow mentions that vines grew in abundance
in the home park in the reign of Richard the Second, the wine made from
them being consumed at the king's table, and even sold.
It is related by Fabian that Henry, stung by the disobedience and
ingratitude of his sons, caused an allegorical picture to be painted,
representing an old eagle assailed by four young ones, which he placed
in one of the chambers of the castle. When asked the meaning of the
device, he replied, "I am the old eagle, and the four eaglets are
my sons, Who cease not to pursue my death. The youngest bird, who
is tearing out its parent's eyes, is my son John, my youngest and
best-loved son, and who yet is the most eager for my destruction."
On his departure for the holy wars Richard Coeur de Lion entrusted the
government of the castle to Hugh de Pudsey, Bishop of Durham and Earl of
Northumberland; but a fierce dispute arising between the warrior-prelate
and his ambitious colleague, William Longchamp, Bishop of Ely, he was
seized and imprisoned by the latter, and compelled to surrender the
castle. After an extraordinary display of ostentation, Longchamp was
ousted in his turn. On the arrival of the news of Richard's capture and
imprisonment in Austria, the castle was seized by Prince John; but it
was soon afterwards taken possession of in the king's behalf by the
barons, and consigned to the custody of Eleanor, the queen-dowager.
In John's reign the castle became the scene of a foul and terrible event
William de Braose, a powerful baron, having offended the king, his wife
Maud was ordered to deliver up her son a hostage for her husband.
But instead of complying with the injunction, she rashly returned for
answer--"that she would not entrust her child to the person who could
slay his own nephew." Upon which the ruthless king seized her and her
son, and enclosing them in a recess in the wall of the castle, built
them up within it.
Sorely pressed by the barons in 1215, John sought refuge within the
castle, and in the same year signed the two charters, Magna Charta and
Charta de Foresta, at Runnymede--a plain between Windsor and Staines. A
curious account of his frantic demeanour, after divesting himself of
so much power and extending so greatly the liberties of the subject, is
given by Holinshed:--"Having acted so far contrary to his mind, the king
was right sorrowful in heart, cursed his mother that bare him, a
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