There were the broad outer and inner bailies, not paved, but sown with grass to nourish the sheep and cattle which might be driven in on sign of danger.

All round were high and turreted walls, with at the corner a bare square-faced keep, gaunt and windowless, rearing up from a lofty mound, which made it almost inaccessible to an assailant.

Against the bailey-walls were rows of frail wooden houses and leaning sheds, which gave shelter to the archers and men-at-arms who formed the garrison.

The doors of these humble dwellings were mostly open, and against the yellow glare from within Alleyne could see the bearded fellows cleaning their harness, while their wives would come out for a gossip, with their needlework in their hands, and their long black shadows streaming across the yard.
The air was full of the clack of their voices and the merry prattling of children, in strange contrast to the flash of arms and constant warlike challenge from the walls above.
"Methinks a company of school lads could hold this place against an army," quoth John.
"And so say I," said Alleyne.
"Nay, there you are wide of the clout," the bowman said gravely.

"By my hilt! I have seen a stronger fortalice carried in a summer evening.
I remember such a one in Picardy, with a name as long as a Gascon's pedigree.