The castles of Grosmont, Skenfrith and White Castle lie west of the border. Just. For a millennium they’ve hunkered in that hinterland where England shoulders up against Wales. As we set off uphill from Grosmont there’s nothing more aggressive going on than a little haymaking, the hum of a distant tractor is masked by a brisk wind through oak leaves; but in the past there have been tensions. Building a castle – building three – is not, after all, an act of friendship. Strictly speaking, though, it wasn’t the English who flexed their muscles here but the French; Normans, who, in the wake of conquest, sat down on the doorsteps of Welsh chieftains and made themselves at home. Continue reading...
