‘And the baby?’ I asked, glancing at the cradle, set as close as was safe to the hearth. A young and rather bosomy lady dozed nearby – the wet nurse I deduced – but Jane was nowhere to be seen. I assumed she had retired somewhere to sleep off her exhaustion.

The nurse smiled. ‘Her son has been feeding well and seems strong.’

At the sound of voices Margaret stirred and opened her eyes. ‘Lord Jasper, he must be baptized,’ she said immediately, her voice weak but insistent.

I knelt down beside her. ‘God be praised you are recovering, Margaret. You must not worry, he has been baptized already.’

‘Yes, so I heard.’ Her head rolled from side to side on the pillow in agitation. ‘But he must be baptized again. His name is not Owen. Lord Edmund wished his son to be called after his brother the king. His name is to be Henry. Also Bishop de la Bere agreed to be a godfather but he will need a proxy.’ The effort of making even this short speech drained her strength and her eyes closed again.

I was not sure if the Church sanctioned second baptisms but rather than embarrass the chaplain who had performed the first one, I decided to ask Father Richard Warren, the vicar of St Mary’s church, which lay beside the castle gatehouse. I considered the first to have been an emergency baptism and the names I had spoken spontaneously given to ensure the child’s place in heaven and the priest made no objection. The baby was dressed once more in his beautiful chemise and baptismal coif and wrapped up against the snow-cold air. Once more I performed my role as godfather to Owen Tudor’s grandson and this time under the statue of the Virgin in the Pembroke church, with Steward Dŵnn standing proxy for Bishop de la Bere, Edmund’s wish for his child’s name to be Henry was fulfilled. As if in confirmation of the correct choice of name the baby gave a loud sneeze when the Holy Water ran off his brow, proclaiming that this time the Evil One had left him.

* * *

Later, when back at court in Kenilworth, I witnessed Henry’s delight on hearing that Edmund’s son had been named for him, and I regretted my initial instinct to call the babe Owen. While the Tudor connection might be important in Wales, in England the boy’s interests would depend on his connection to the Lancastrian throne. I must do my best for him.

I had been obliged to return to court as soon as the thaw came. I heard from Jane often, the baby thrived and Margaret’s health slowly improved. The letter I received towards the end of February informed me that at last Margaret had recovered enough strength to move from her bed to a chair but it would be well into March before she would be fit to emerge from her confinement.