My suspicions were confirmed. The mighty power of the crown was removing Lady Margaret’s little boy from her care. There would be no argument, no right of appeal, no consideration of a mother’s feelings. However hard she railed against it, racing through the wind and rain to vent her feelings, at the end of her ride nothing would have changed. Lady Margaret Beaufort was to go to her new husband as an unencumbered bride and someone else would raise the child she had nearly died to bring into the world. It was a fait accompli, tantamount to abduction.

‘Oh dear God,’ I said, my voice shaking with fury. ‘I should think she will want to ride and ride and ride until she drops.’

A look of horror drained all colour from Jasper’s rain-washed cheeks. ‘Oh no, we will find her. We must find her. Are you sure they headed this way?’

‘Well that was Maredudd’s idea and she might see Lamphey as some kind of refuge. What else have we to go on? At least she is not alone.’

‘I will never forgive myself if she comes to any harm,’ he yelled over the sough of the wind in the trees lining the course of the Pembroke River. Raising his arm, he called an order and the whole posse broke into a canter along the well-worn bankside trail. ‘St Margaret preserve my lady of Richmond!’ Jasper shouted into the gathering gale. ‘A cask of wine to the first to sight her.’

We found them several miles further on, where the river curled around the outskirts of Lamphey village to flow under a bridge into the demesne of the bishop’s palace. Lady Margaret was lying prone among the exposed roots of a willow and no man could have been more relieved to see us approach than Maredudd, who leapt up from her side and grabbed Jasper’s bridle.

‘God be praised you have come, my lord,’ he cried, his teeth chattering. ‘It was a tree root – Lady Margaret’s horse tripped.’

Jasper swung down from the saddle, not waiting to hear more. I followed more slowly, careful to pull my skirts over the cantle before jumping down; we did not need two unconscious women lying in the rain. Jasper had thrown himself to his knees beside Margaret, hands clasped, eyes closed, his lips moving in prayer. It was as if he could not bear to look on her and find her dead.