The earl scrambled to his feet, as anxious as I was to forestall any baby tears. ‘No, we will all go to the stables,’ he said, smiling beguilingly at his nephew and squeezing his little hand. ‘I need to speak to my Master of Horse and you can stroke my big friendly courser, Harri. You would like that, would you not?’ Too young to understand what his uncle had said, the little boy had nevertheless gauged the gentler tone of his voice his chin stopped trembling; he gurgled happily, meaning yes he would.

Over Harri’s head Lord Jasper and I exchanged glances. The moment of conflict had passed. Any unfinished business would have to be resolved at some other time. However, no early opportunity offered itself because, no matter what he thought of the poet’s attitude towards the ladies, a few days later the earl set off with Lewys as his guide to visit one of the farthest-flung Pembroke manors.

Dale was a remote coastal lordship at the mouth of the great Milford Haven estuary. Getting there involved a complicated journey with many rivers and streams to cross and since Lord Jasper could hardly be expected to walk, Lewys was required to ride. I could not help laughing as Harri and I watched the small band of horsemen set off on their journey. Lewys sat his mount with tense deliberation, holding the reins like a basket of eggs and giving the impression that he was unlikely to remain in contact with the saddle much beyond the Pembroke River. I recalled that he had been less than keen when Jasper had proposed the expedition over supper on the night of his return.

‘Why would you want to go there?’ the poet had protested. ‘Dale Castle is a grim place in the direct path of every gale that sweeps in from the Western Ocean and its lord is a cantankerous old bastard for whom I will never compose a praise poem.’

Lord Jasper had dismissed his objections. ‘Never mind your bardish sensitivities, Lewys. Pembroke is a royal domain and I need to inspect Dale’s capacity to confront an enemy landing. I will pay you well to guide me to this wind-blasted corner of my territory. Has this cantankerous chieftain adopted the English tongue, or will I have to bribe you further to interpret as well?’ It was at that moment I realized that the two men were developing an unlikely friendship whatever the earl’s opinion of the poet’s lax morals.

Lord Jasper returned from his foray to the western edge a week later, having left the poet en route to make his way on foot towards Gruffydd ap Nicholas’s territory, no doubt with a mission to gather information for his new patron. Then Geoffrey and Edith Pole had joined the earl’s retinue at the Milford ferry and brought along their own baby son, Richard.