THE CHRONICLE OF CLEMENDY
it matters a pin's head, for our business is to take whatever comes without noise of rejoicing or lamentation, since neither will last for very long. As for the wandering knight he chanced upon a road leading through the forest to a castle built there by the Lord Marcher of Estrighoil, both for the defence of his lordship and for his pleasure when he would leave his halls above Wye water, and go a-hunting in Wentwood. This castle was at first only one great round tower, but afterwards it had been made larger and furnished with an eight-sided tower and a hall, and surrounded by a pool of water; and it was on a high place looking over the greeny billows of the forest and many a hill and valley and long level of the beloved Gwentian land. As for the name I am in some difficulty for some call it Taroggy, some Strogul, and others Struggle, which has made learned men mix things up and confound this forest fort with the great castle of Estrighoil above the Wye and the Severn and Chepstow town. But I believe Struggle will suit us best, for it means something, and this is more than can be said of Taroggy, unless one happens to understand the niceties, contractions, mutations and amplifications of the tongue of the Terrestrial Paradise. And so it fell out that Sir Symon d'Espalion found himself about half-a-mile from this place, and as he stood musing and doubting whether to toil up or shamble down, the faint notes of a horn wound afar off were borne unto his ears; and looking to the quarter whence this music came, he saw in the valley below a goodly company on horseback,
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