I hid a smile. Maud was always jealous of anyone else claiming Harri’s attention and the inclusion of others in the game would avoid Maud getting too possessive of his company. I often thought it remarkable how Harri was able to steer a situation the way he wanted it and it did not surprise me in the least when Cicely eagerly laid down her embroidery and, with big-sisterly determination, dragged her brother Walter across the room with her. Maud sulked for a few minutes but it was not long before her strong competitive spirit overcame her resentment. The elaborate carving of the chamber’s ceiling vault was soon echoing to the rolling sound of wood on stone, the clack of falling pins and the cries of youthful triumph and frustration.

I was particularly glad to see Harri draw Walter Herbert into the game, because although they were quite close in age and shared lessons together, there was no real camaraderie between them. Walter was still suffering from the abrupt departure of his older brother William – now married to Mary Woodville, the queen’s younger sister, and become a member of the royal household – and had so far spurned all Harri’s efforts to replace his older brother in his affections. Walter’s acceptance of an apparently casual offer of a game of ninepins was therefore a minor coup on Harri’s part.

A big tester bed occupied one side of the large chamber and Isabel Herbert and my own two girls, Elin and Sian, had commandeered the cosy private space within the half-drawn drapes to play with their dolls, away from the teasing interference of the boys. Having been dismissed by the older children, young Davy had crept up with a hobbyhorse he had collected from somewhere and poked its head quietly through the opening in the curtains. He then started making horsey sounds and nodding the head up and down, which inspired hysterical girlish giggles. I finally abandoned my sewing completely and dumped the chemise I had been mending in the basket at my feet.

Approaching silently behind Davy I demanded, ‘Exactly what do you think you are doing, young Master Owen?’ By now I had perfected the art of imitating the voice and intonation of Lady Anne, chatelaine of Raglan and mother of all the Herbert children. ‘I shall be obliged to report your behaviour to Lord Herbert,’ I went on, ‘and he sends naughty little boys like you to the dungeon for days and days and days.’

Unfortunately I had chosen to stage my performance at the exact moment that the lady herself entered the chamber unannounced. To my consternation, from behind me I heard the real voice of the lady concerned. ‘Only for days and days, Mistress Jane? Actually I think it might be for years and years.’