‘They have been playing together beautifully, have they not, Jane?’ Edith declared, defending her son’s behaviour. ‘And we were laughing at Jane’s idea that Margaret and Sir Henry might be able to escape from under his mother’s thumb if the queen were to call the duchess to court.’

I squirmed slightly at her frank admission that we had been discussing Lady Margaret and glanced at Lord Jasper to gauge his reaction. He was instantly alert at the mention of her name, asking, ‘Why? Is Margaret not happy in her marriage?’

Edith hastened to reassure him. ‘Oh yes, she is full of praise for Sir Henry. It is his mother she finds difficult to please. She complains that she escaped our own mother’s authority only to encounter one even more restricting in her mother-in-law. Margaret may be young but she has a strong independent streak, as you know, my lord.’

The earl pursed his lips. ‘Hmm. I expect the duchess means well but I suppose I might seek the queen’s help to loosen the chains a little. It is Sir Henry Margaret should answer to, not his mother.’

‘Indeed,’ Geoffrey said, casting a teasing glance at his wife, ‘just as Edith is entirely answerable to me, of course.’ He ignored her indignant ‘Huh!’ and squatted down to put his son back on the floor. ‘Play nicely now, Rich. Here is your mangonel, Harri. Your uncle is going to hold an eisteddfod, is that not a splendid idea?’

Harri took back his siege weapon with alacrity and Lord Jasper hastily interjected, ‘Not exactly an eisteddfod, just a gathering of some of the local bards and their patrons. I thought it might provide an opportunity to combine negotiation with entertainment. Lewys Glyn Cothi is arranging it for me, starting with Gruffydd ap Nicholas and his sons. They all compose a little I am told. What do you think, Jane?’

Flustered by his direct appeal for my opinion, I could not instantly summon a suitable reply. ‘I ask you because you know the Welsh mind,’ he persisted. ‘Will the chiefs of the local lordships find it acceptable to come to Pembroke for poetry, feasting and talking or will they be suspicious of an English conspiracy? I thought I would get my father to help things along. He could perfect a bardic battle he started with Lewys at Caldicot during our hunting party.’

‘I believe all Welshmen love a bardic battle, my lord,’ I said cautiously, ‘nearly as much as a real one. I am sure they will flock to the gates of Pembroke.’