Compared with Raglan, Weobley Castle was an old-fashioned fortification, located high on a motte, its grey stone walls built in a classic square with four round towers at each corner, perched over banks that fell steeply into a dry ditch. The stables and other wooden outbuildings were located all around us in the outer bailey and the single entrance to the fortress itself was via a raised drawbridge and narrow wooden stairway, which traversed the ditch and ran up the steep side of the motte to an arched pedestrian gateway. The heavy oak gate was soon opened, the drawbridge was lowered and we were able to climb into the shelter of the thick walls. Inside, in the busy courtyard, Lady Anne’s brother Sir Walter Devereux, created Lord Ferrers by King Edward, was waiting to greet us and beside him stood his nephew and namesake Walter Herbert. And next to him, the Virgin be praised, stood Harri Tudor. My heart seemed to bounce off my ribs in relief.

Lady Anne was embraced and welcomed by her glowering brother. ‘It is a black day that brings you here, sister,’ he said, his angry words loud and echoing off the surrounding buildings. ‘But I thank God you and your children have reached the safety of my walls.’

‘We thank you for their refuge, brother,’ she replied in softer tones. ‘And I thank God you have Walter and Harri here also. Their safety has been an added burden on my mind. Come, let me bless you, my son,’ and Walter stepped forward to kneel for his mother’s blessing.

From the expression on Harri’s face in that moment I knew that I had a story to hear from him, but at this time of crisis Weobley was a closed and congested castle, with archers patrolling the battlements, troops camped in the courtyard and busy officials and servants crowding every passage and stairway. Finding somewhere to speak alone with him would not be easy and then fate intervened …

Lady Anne had wisely dispatched all but one of her female companions to their homes and she had been allocated only a small chamber for herself and the single female companion she had brought with her. The morning following our arrival she sent for me. Somehow she had acquired black mourning apparel and sat on the only seat the tiny room possessed, a deep stone shelf under the narrow glazed window.