At the little foot-bridge spanning the stream, we halt to enjoy a pleasant retrospect of the time-honoured church, set amidst embowering trees, with a handful of lowly cottages scattered prettily around.

Thence we push on by a footpath across the upland meadows; climbing stone stiles, set in the turfy walls which do duty here as hedgerows.

Gradually we ascend to the wind-swept plateau at Newton; and if the ascent is easily won, it is none the less worth winning; for it affords an ample outlook over land and sea, with the village of Castle Martin upon the rise of the opposite hill.

Our track now becomes somewhat obscure, so we call in to inquire the way at the neighbouring blacksmith's shop; when a soot-begrimed son of Vulcan, casting aside his hammer, good-naturedly pioneers us along an intricate by-way, and points out the bearings for crossing the marshy valley. A wild enough place is this in winter-time, as our guide can testify; where the very hayricks have to be lashed secure to weather the fierce sou'-westers, which, under their steady impact, bend the trees into strange, distorted forms.

Descending the rough braeside, we now make for a conspicuous old ash-tree, and thenceforward thread our way amidst the d.y.k.es and marshy levels of Castle Martin Corse.

The tall steeple of Warren church, showing clear against the sky ahead, makes a serviceable landmark, until we strike the gra.s.sy track that leads across the marsh. Arrayed in sombre hues of russet red, rich browns and olive greens, the level strath is dotted with groups of horses and the black cattle for which the locality is famed, grazing knee-deep amidst waving sedges and lush green water-plants.

As we advance, the lapwings (those lovers of lonely, unfrequented places), wheel and circle overhead, uttering their peculiarly plaintive pipe as they scan the unwelcome intruders. And now a hollow lane receives us, and keeps us company until, after pa.s.sing a two-three humble tenements, we turn aside into the well-tended graveyard; and so to the parish church of St. Michael, which stands in a little elbow of the hill overlooking the scattered dwellings of the hamlet.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CASTLE MARTIN CHURCH.]

Castle Martin church has made so doughty a stand against the ravages of time that now, in its green old age, it presents an extremely picturesque appearance as we approach its weather-beaten portal. Before pa.s.sing within, let us pause awhile to scan the features of this characteristic old Pembrokeshire church.

Prominent in our view rises the gray limestone tower, whose rugged, time-worn walls rise solidly to the corbelled battlements. These have louvred windows to the bell-chamber, and a quaint metal weather-vane atop; to right and left range the lichen-clad roofs and walls of the main structure; while a lofty and ma.s.sive porch stands boldly out, enclosing a rambling stairway that leads to the tower. The foreground is occupied by crumbling headstones, wreathed in ivy and decked with flowering creepers; and a shapely churchyard cross rises beside our pathway.

Nor does the interior of the church prove a whit less interesting. Here a group of graceful arches, with attached limestone shafts, gives access from the nave to the north aisle; whence a skew arch, having detached pillars with capitals, opens into the chancel. The latter is flanked by similar arches enclosing pretty, traceried windows.

The great south porch has a narrow doorway at some height in the side wall, giving access to a much-worn, straggling flight of steps.

Scrambling up these we find ourselves in the tower, which, after the manner of the country, is ma.s.sively constructed; having grim vaulted chambers with many openings, like pigeon-holes, pierced in the solid walls. Here are also the bells, erected by John Rudhale, A.D. 1809. The font, though plain, is well proportioned and of early date.

This curious old church is the head of the important parish and hundred of Castle Martin. The district is noted for its breed of black, long-horned cattle; and in bygone days could boast its own troop of gallant yeomanry, who shared with the Fishguard Fencibles the distinction of repelling the notorious French 'invasion' of Pembrokeshire, a century ago.

Leaving the quiet village to the care of an aged crone and a group of children playing with a lame magpie, we get under way again, and make for the crossways on the ridge. At this point the Ordnance map raises expectations of something of a 'castle,' which proves, however, to be nothing more than a prehistoric earthwork with mounds of circular form.

Then onward again, pa.s.sing Moor Farm, where once stood a goodly mansion, of which scarce a stone has been spared. Now we keep a straight course towards Warren, with the skylarks making music overhead; while the voice of that 'interesting scamp,' the cuckoo, echoes from the woods down Brownslade way.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A WAYSIDE WELL.]

Shortly before reaching Warren village the country lane widens out, with a corner of sedgy greensward under the hedgerow. Here stands a curious old wayside well, domed over with a sort of rude canopy, whose mossy stones, fringed with hartstongue fern, are reflected in the clear water; indeed, from the frequent recurrence of springs and draw-wells, it would seem that St. Dec.u.ma.n.u.s, their patron, was held in high esteem in these parts.

At Warren we call a halt to refresh the 'inner man;' then lounge awhile in a shady nook, for a chat and a quiet pipe. Towards the cool of evening we bear away for distant Pembroke, by the road that leads past Orielton, where we are on familiar ground which has been touched upon in describing a previous route.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CASTLE MARTIN.]

CHAPTER VI.

CAREW, WITH ITS CROSS, CASTLE AND CHURCH. UPTON CASTLE AND CHAPEL.

PEMBROKE DOCK AND HAVERFORDWEST.

Setting forth by the morning train, we alight at Lamphey Station; whence we make our way to the grand old ruins of Carew Castle, as our _piece de resistance_ for to-day. Once free of Lamphey village, we soon find ourselves striding across the Ridgeway by Lamphey Park; whence we get a pretty retrospect, under some weather-beaten trees, of the pleasant vale we have quitted, with a more distant peep of the towers of Pembroke Castle. Here, too, we find a few traces of olden times in a group of gray, weather-stained farm-buildings; remnants, maybe, of Bishop Vaughan's famous grange.

At Rambler's Folly, on the crest of the ridge, we get the first glimpse of our destination, down in the valley below; with a background of open country rolling upward to the distant hills; while, by taking the trouble to cross over the road, we command the broad plain of the sea.

A shepherd with collie-dog at heel, driving his flock to pasture, now puts us in the way of a short-cut across the meadows. This woodland path is enlivened by a bevy of b.u.t.terflies that, like ourselves, are taking the morning air. Here floats a stately 'peac.o.c.k,' while yonder sprightly Atalanta, perched upon a spray of woodbine, displays her becoming _toilette_ of scarlet and glossy black, edged with daintiest lace.

Approaching our destination, we skirt around a marshy watercourse abloom with yellow flags, orchids and gay pink campion. Ere long a flight of stepping-stones lands us in the village, right abreast of Carew church, a n.o.ble old structure with handsome traceried windows, and a tower such as one rarely sees in this locality. A picturesque old building with pointed windows, that was formerly the village school, adds a pretty feature to the churchyard.

But we must push on to the castle, reserving these minor matters for future investigation. Half a mile of hard highroad ensues, when, just before the castle gate is reached, our attention is absorbed by an object standing upon the steep bank, hard by the road.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

This is Carew Cross, a h.o.a.ry monument before whose patriarchal antiquity the ruined castle is little better than a mere _parvenu_. The huge monolith of lichen-clad stone terminates in a circular head enclosing a Celtic cross; while each of the four sides is richly overlaid with deeply-incised patterns, carved in that curious, interlacing fashion peculiar to these early monuments. The date of its erection is placed as far back as the ninth century: upon its eastern face is seen a rudely-fashioned cross, each limb of which is formed by three deeply-cut lines; while the reverse side is inscribed with certain archaic characters, which some ingenious antiquary has interpreted thus:

THE CROSS OF THE SON OF ILTEUT THE SON OF ECETT.

Having completed the sketch of Carew Cross, which figures on the opposite page, we now pa.s.s on to view the wonders of the castle.

Carew Castle is located in a district which from very early times formed a royal appanage of the princes of South Wales. It was presented as a marriage dower with the fair Nesta, daughter of Rhys ap Tydwr, to Gerald de Windsor, the King's castellan, in the reign of Henry I. This great demesne was subsequently mortgaged by Sir Edward de Carew to the gallant Sir Rhys ap Thomas, by whom the castle appears to have been largely remodelled. Here it was that this doughty Welshman entertained his liege the Earl of Richmond, on his way from Milford to victorious Bosworth field; placing the royal arms, in memory of the event, upon a chimney-piece in the chamber where 'the hope of England' slept.

In olden times Carew Castle was surrounded by an extensive chase, or deer park. Here in 1507 Sir Rhys ap Thomas held 'a solemn just and turnament for the honour of St. George, patrone of that n.o.ble Order of the Garter,' when Henry VII. honoured the revels with his presence. A full account of this 'princelie fete' has been preserved, setting forth how 'manie valerouse gentlemen' then made trial of their abilities' in feates of armes, the men of prime Ranke being lodged within the Castle, others of good Qualitie in tents and Pavilions, pitched in the Parke.'

This 'Festivall and time of jollytie' commenced on the day dedicated to 'the trustie Patrone and protector of Marshalistes,' and continued for five whole days; the tournament taking place on the fourth day, when Sir William Herbert was the challenger, the lord of Carew playing the judge's part.

To the credit of all concerned it is recorded that, throughout all these 'justes and turnaments, seasoned with a diversitie of musicke for the honoure of Ladyes,' in spite of 'knockes valerouslie received and manfullie bestowed, among a thousand people there was not one Quarrell, crosse worde or unkinde Looke, that happened betweene them.'

Wonderful stories were told of the feats of arms performed by the doughty Sir Rhys ap Thomas; insomuch that for years after his day the name of Sir Rhys ap Thomas was 'used about Terwin as a bugg-beare or fire Abbaas, such as Talbott's was in Henrie the Sixt's time, to affright the children from doing shrewd Trickes.' It is related how Sir Rhys, mounted on his veteran charger Grey Fetlocks, contrived to run the impostor Perkin Warbeck to earth at the monastery of Beaulieu, in Hampshire; and was rewarded for this gallant service by receiving the Order of the Garter from his sovereign. At the Battle of the Spurs this stout-hearted warrior led the light horse and archers against the enemy, and took the Duke of Longueville prisoner with his own hands.

Shortly after this event, having attained the age of threescore years, this brave old knight at last hung up his well-worn weapons in his Castle of Carew. Sir Rhys spent his declining days in extending and beautifying the stately fabric; calling in to his aid, we may be sure, the advice of his friend and neighbour the talented Bishop Vaughan, then dwelling at Lamphey Palace. Finally, after considerably over-pa.s.sing the allotted span, Sir Rhys ap Thomas was gathered to his fathers in the year of grace 1527.

Meanwhile, traversing a broad green meadow, we approach the ivy-wreathed walls and turrets of the castle. This magnificent edifice is built around a large central courtyard. It has a huge bastion at each corner and displays, even in its dismantled condition, a most interesting combination of military and domestic architecture.

Before us rises the gate-house, probably the oldest portion of the present building. An adjacent tower contains the chapel, dating from Edwardian times and retaining its groined ceiling; and in one of the upper chambers we notice a fireplace bearing what appear to be the arms of Spain. The fragment of a graceful oriel is seen high aloft in the wall as we pa.s.s under the barbican tower, a ma.s.sive structure with vaulted archways, portcullis and machicolated battlements.

We now emerge upon the inner courtyard of the castle, whose broad expanse of velvety turf is overshadowed on every side by gray old limestone walls, pierced with pointed doorways and many-mullioned windows.

The most prominent feature here is the ivy-clad portal of the banqueting-hall. This picturesque structure rises through two stories, and is adorned with some crumbling scutcheons, charged with the insignia of Henry of Richmond and of Sir Rhys ap Thomas; combined with the h.o.a.ry, time-worn architecture of the banqueting-hall, the whole forms a charming subject for the artist's pencil.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A CORNER OF CAREW CASTLE]

The banqueting-hall itself must have been a magnificent apartment. It still shows traces of rich Gothic ornamentation in the deep recesses of its arched windows, doorways and huge fireplaces; while the springing of the open-timbered roof can be readily discerned. In another direction is seen the incomparable range of lofty, mullioned windows of the broad north front. This grandiose _facade_ was begun, but never completed, by Sir John Perrot: it contains a sumptuous state-room, over 100 feet in length, and numerous smaller apartments.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CAREW CASTLE.]

An hour vanishes in next to no time as we ramble amidst these echoing chambers, and clamber up and down the broken stairways. Here we pry into some deep, dark dungeon; yonder, peer through a narrow lancet; and anon mount to the crumbling battlements, to the no small dismay of a host of jackdaws that haunt these ruined walls. Meanwhile imagination re-peoples these deserted halls and desolate chambers with those throngs of faire ladyes, and gallant knights and squires, those troops of servitors and men-at-arms, and all the countless on-hangers that went to swell the princely _menage_ of its mediaeval masters.

Presently we pa.s.s out again, to wander around the brave old fortress and mark the gaping breaches wrought by Cromwell's cannon, what time the beleaguered garrison fought for King Charles I., holding out long and valiantly until, Tenby having succ.u.mbed, Carew at length fell a prize to the Parliamentary arms. The accompanying sketch shows that most of the south front has been demolished, thus giving us a glimpse of the internal courtyard and a portion of the lofty northern _facade_.

Upon quitting the castle we stroll across the neighbouring bridge, whence we obtain a n.o.ble view of the great north front with its lofty oriels and vast, mullioned windows reflected in the shallow waters of the tideway. Our appearance upon the scene disturbs a meditative heron, who, pulling himself together, spreads his broad wings and stretches away in leisurely flight to more secluded quarters.

Pausing as we pa.s.s for another glance at the ancient Cross, we now retrace our steps to the village to complete our investigations there.

Arrived at the church, we prowl around that sacred edifice; noting its lofty Perpendicular tower, fine traceried windows and stair-turret surmounted by a low spirelet; then we pa.s.s within, and proceed to look about us.