Whatever kind of accommodation this Jasper was accustomed to, his question indicated that it was much grander than the sturdy stone farmhouse before us. My grandfather Tudur Fychan had built Tŷ Cerrig in the reign of the fourth King Henry, after English soldiers had run him off his lands during Glyn Dŵr’s rebellion, when half of Wales had risen against the English occupation. On that dreadful occasion they had put his family’s timber-framed house in Ynys Môn to the torch and in due course, when my grandfather Tudur at last managed to establish a new home on land in the foothills of Yr Wyddfa, he proudly called it Tŷ Cerrig – House of Stone – to show that he had built a place that would defy the flames. But it was just two floors: the lower one was a byre and a dairy and the upper floor was where we all lived. All the outbuildings, barns, stables, brewery, kennel and latrine, were made of timber. My father Hywel came back from England with his French wife to take over the family farm when Tudur Fychan died before I was born.

I quickly dismissed Jasper’s doubts. ‘Oh yes, there is plenty of room at this time of year. Now that the cows are out in the fields and the byre is scrubbed clean, the boys sleep downstairs. Fresh straw makes a good pallet.’

He laughed. ‘It is probably considerably cleaner and more comfortable than some places we have lodged in during our journey.’

I gestured through the door, towards the steep ladder-stair that led to the family quarters. ‘Shall we go up? There is refreshment ready.’

He glanced back at the horses. Maredudd and Dai were walking them towards the stable.

I understood his concern for his mount. ‘You do not have to worry. The boys will see to them and bring in your saddlebags.’

He nodded. ‘I am sure they will. I was just remembering that there is a brace of hares in one of the bags. My father did some hunting while we were crossing the high moors yesterday. He is a crack shot with his bow. In this warm weather they will be ready for eating.’

I smiled happily, for this meant the chickens were reprieved and our egg supply preserved. ‘We will roast them this evening,’ I said. ‘I will see to it. You go on in and meet your hostess.’

‘I feel as if I have already met her,’ he said, gazing at me earnestly and making me blush again, ‘and I look forward to the rest of my stay, however long or short it may be.’

I went off to search for the hares with a spring in my step.

* * *