The Church lost Amberley in the sixteenth century.

William Rede, who succeeded Langton to both house and see, wishing to feel secure in his home, craved permission to dig a moat around it and to render it both hostile and defensive.

Hence its lion-like mien; but it has known no warfare, and the castle's mouldering walls now give what assistance they can in harbouring live stock.

Twentieth-century sheds lean against fourteenth-century masonry; faggots are stored in the moat; lawn tennis is played in the courtyard; and black pigeons peep from the slits cut for arquebusiers.
[Illustration: _Amberley Castle._] Amberley Castle only once intrudes itself in history: Charles II., during his flight in 1651, spent a night there under the protection of Sir John Briscoe, as we saw in Chapter III.
In winter, if you ask an Amberley man where he dwells, he says, "Amberley, God help us." In summer he says, "Amberley--where _would_ you live ?" From Amberley to Parham one keeps upon the narrow ridge for a mile or so, branching off then to the left.

Parham's advance guard is seen all the way--a clump of fir trees, indicating that the soil there changes to sand.
[Sidenote: A NOBLE DAME] For two possessions is Parham noted: a heronry in the park, and in the house a copy of Montaigne with Shakespeare's autograph in it.