After a six-week separation, Jasper sent his harbingers to announce his imminent return. I had dressed myself in my best and Harri in the red and blue worsted gown Edith had given him, when we heard the trumpet announce the first sighting of the cavalcade. Harri had grown independent and refused to let me carry him down to the outer ward, but we reached it in time to greet Jasper – not with a passionate kiss as I would dearly have liked – but with dignity, because among his retinue, as they poured through the gatehouse arch, I spotted his father Owen and, riding beside him, a young woman, who I guessed must be his ‘comeliest little widow’ Myfanwy. She was indeed a very pretty girl, looking at least thirty years Owen’s junior and in spite of his mature good looks I found it hard to believe that so young a female would have pestered him to take her as his mistress. Owen claimed she had said they were destined to be together but I thought it quite possible that she had a motive of her own; had she been in desperate need of his protection, perhaps?

Jasper leaned down from his saddle and held out his arms for Harri, pulling him onto the pommel where the little boy sat, goggle-eyed at the milling crowd of horses, liveried servants and men at arms. ‘One day you will have a big horse and a cavalcade like this, young Harri,’ said his uncle, giving him a smacking kiss and passing him down to me again, before jumping from the saddle and acknowledging my discreet curtsy with one of his inevitable blushes and a brief squeeze of my hand, a reaction which disarmed me and fooled no one, least of all his father.

Owen lifted his companion down from her horse and escorted her towards us, commenting to Jasper, ‘Is that the best you can do for your lovely lady, after so long a separation?’ Ignoring his son’s exasperated grunt, Owen bowed over my hand and presented his companion in Welsh. ‘Jane ferch Hywel, may I present Myfanwy ferch Gwilym of Denbigh, who flatly refused to be left behind when told I was coming to Pembroke.’

‘I wished so much to meet you, Jane, having heard a great deal about you.’ Her voice was soft and her Welsh words warm as she presented her cheek for the kiss of welcome. It was smooth and creamy but I saw close up that there were tiny lines around her striking violet eyes, which added extra years to my initial estimation of her age. Our brief embrace also told me something else; that she and I were in the same condition. At a rough guess Owen and Jasper Tudor were to become fathers within weeks if not days of one another.