But one thing was certain--the two families had carried on their petty warfare in the most determined way.

Edens had fallen by the sword; so had Darleys.

There was a grim legend, too, of an Eden having been taken prisoner, and starved to death in one of the dungeons of Cliffe Castle, in Queen Mary's time; and Ralph had often gone down below to look at the place, and the staple ring and chain in the gloomy place, shuddering at the horror of the prisoner's fate.
For this the Edens had waited their time, and surprised the castle one night, driving the occupants from place to place, till they took refuge in the central tower, from which they could not be dislodged; so the Edens contented themselves by the following reprisal: they set fire to the castle in a dozen places before they retired, the flames raging till there was no more woodwork to destroy, and nothing was left but the strong central tower and the sturdy walls.

The place was restored, though, soon after, and the Sir Ralph Darley of Elizabeth's time made an expedition one night to give tit-for-tat, but only to find out that it was impossible to get across the stoutly-defended natural bridge at Black Tor, and that it was waste of time to keep on shooting arrows, bearing burning rags soaked in pitch, on to the roofs of the towers and in at the loopholes.

So he retreated, with a very sore head, caused by a stone thrown from above, dinting in his helmet, and with half his men carrying the other half, wounded or dead.
His successor had tried again and again to master the Edens and seize their possessions.