‘She said they were more precious than her children. I was the only one who knew them and I have betrayed her.’ I could see tears in Myfanwy’s eyes.

‘How long did you stay with the apothecary?’ I asked.

‘Almost a year. Owen came to the shop for a cure and – well, at first I kept him at arm’s length but he was persistent. Being Parker of Forests for Denbigh he knew about my husband’s death. He told me that my stepson had claimed I murdered him and ran away. Then I saw my stepson in the street one day and I panicked, thinking he might set the sheriff’s sergeants on me if he found me and that they would never believe a woman over a man. There were no other witnesses to my husband’s death you see. The next time Owen came I accepted his invitation to live with him. I thought he would protect me.’

I laughed at that. ‘The way he puts it you practically threw yourself at him, the rogue.’

She did not laugh with me. ‘I probably did. I was terrified of my stepson. He is not a kind man like his father was – like Owen is.’ Then she did give a little laugh. ‘Or perhaps I just prefer older men.’ She patted her rounded belly. ‘And this one has given me a child. Will our babes be born at the same time, Jane?’

I nodded. ‘Not far apart I think – before spring anyway. Will you still be here at Pembroke?’

‘I hope so. I feel safe here but I will go wherever Owen goes.’ Her near-black eyes lit with a fervent glow. ‘I owe him that much at least.’

* * *

Our babies were born within a month of one another. I think I was lucky, or else I come from sturdy farming stock, because I was scarcely aware of my pregnancy until after Christmas and suffered only a short labour, delivering my baby girl in early February without any long struggle or lying-in. Jasper defied all the midwife’s protests about men in the birthing chamber and came to my bedside almost immediately afterwards.

‘She is beautiful,’ he declared, cradling his swaddled daughter and gazing into her blurry blue eyes. ‘And you were so stoical, Jane, barely a moan I am told. Such a different experience from poor Margaret’s.’

‘Lady Margaret was thirteen and I am twenty-one,’ I pointed out. ‘She was amazingly brave but also very tiny. Harri is lucky to be alive.’

‘And lucky to have you to mother him – as is this one. What shall we call her?’

‘I should like to call her Elin but the English would call her Helen,’ I said.