‘No, she did not need to.’ I tapped my nose and smiled. ‘It takes one to know one.’ I stepped out of my gown and hung it and his doublet on a clothes-pole. ‘Now, let us pretend that I have not told you and you can take pleasure in discovering what changes your son or daughter has already made to my body.’ I knelt then to remove his hose and when I looked up I was happy to see that the creases in Jasper’s brow had vanished.

I let him push me gently down onto the bed and he clambered over me to draw the curtains around us. Conversation ceased as his lips claimed mine and I felt his weight pressing me into the feathers. Then there was nothing to be done but celebrate our reunion by succumbing to the demands of our rising passion and the glorious rhythm of its fulfilment.

22

Jane

Pembroke Castle

MYFANWY WAS A WOODLAND nymph, a small, dark secretive creature who would frequently slip away into the forested hills beyond Monkton Priory, a monastery visible from the western battlements of the castle. After several hours she would return with a basket containing what she called ‘nature’s treasure’; fungi, roots and herbs, many I did not recognize and some which looked quite sinister.

‘Do you not worry about her roaming alone?’ I asked Owen, who seemed quite relaxed about these excursions. ‘The woods are dense and there is no telling who may be lurking in them.’

Owen just shrugged. ‘Myfanwy’s mother was what some people call a Wise Woman, and in her own right she is a child of the forest. She would detect anyone nearby before they even knew she was there and she carries a knife tucked into her garter.’ He grinned lasciviously. ‘It was one of the first things I discovered about her. She almost unmanned me when I attempted a kiss!’

Myfanwy and I walked together into Pembroke town a day or so later and I took the opportunity to quiz her. ‘Owen told me you were brought up in the forest. Is that why you like to walk in the woods?’

Those mysterious violet eyes of hers regarded me steadily. ‘I was born in the king’s forest in the valley of the river Clwyd near Denbigh. Only coppicers and charcoal-burners, bodgers and the like live there. My father guards the king’s beasts – deer and boar and wolf – and my mother, who was a healer, used the plants that lurk in the undergrowth, as well as those growing out on the high slopes where there are no trees. Tonics and potions are sought after – people travel miles to buy them and they buy charms and spells, too, for ailments of the mind. Folk like us in the deep valleys believe that trees have spirits and faeries live in the streams, but they are not always friendly, and they require understanding.’