I bit my lip, hoping the query would not annoy his guardian, but also very curious how she would answer it.

She took her time but then explained quite simply. ‘Your mother and her husband are relatives of the old king, Harri. It has taken some time for the new king to trust them but now he does. You should be very grateful to King Edward.’

It took even longer for Harri to deliver his response, his eyes flicking about as he carefully considered how to word it. ‘I am very grateful to have an opportunity to get to know my mother, my lady.’ He made no mention of the Yorkist king who had deposed his uncle and namesake.

Lady Anne’s dark brows knitted under her elegantly wired gauze veil but she gave only a brief nod, removed her arm from Harri’s shoulder and moved towards the door. I could not help admiring a woman who managed to keep tabs on every aspect of her large household in addition to producing a child almost every year. The Herberts’ ninth child was due before Christmas.

As she swept out, leaving a waft of flowery scent behind her, I dropped a curtsy and hoped she was out of earshot when I heard Walter’s voice raised in anger behind me.

‘You refused to acknowledge the king’s kindness, Harry Tudor. That is treason in this house. You are lucky my lady mother does not have you locked in the prison tower.’

Harri had gone pink. ‘I did not refuse. It was not the king who moved mountains to grant my mother permission to visit me; it was the queen, the lady Elizabeth, who sympathizes with my mother’s long separation from her only son.’

I sighed, hopes of a rapprochement fading. Harri wanted to be friends with Walter but he was also staunchly loyal to his Lancastrian roots and tried never to mention King Edward’s name, a provocative stance in this Yorkist family. Equally, Harri had never spoken of his uncle Jasper or his grandfather Owen, nor mentioned them in his letters to his mother, which were carefully vetted by his tutors. He had been obliged to learn at an early age the enormous value of being able to keep secrets. I myself had never revealed the true father of my children but told the Herberts that I had been married to a Pembroke Castle cook and widowed soon after the birth of Sian. Luckily when we left Pembroke both my girls and Davy had been too young to be aware of their fathers’ names. Only Harri knew who they were and he was not telling: he and I shared this secret and also some of the information which reached me in Jasper’s infrequent letters that were smuggled to me.