‘Thank you yes, they will be glad of that, but fear not, they have no need of lodging. They will find it in the town.’ He signalled them to dismount. I noticed that most wore mail-armour under their livery and swords on their belts, while the remaining few were obviously servants, armed only with small blades. Their horses were damp with sweat and it looked like they had been moving fast, as if through potentially hostile territory.

‘They may be welcome trade at the Abermaw inns but there are always empty barns on the farm at this time of year,’ I said. ‘We would not turn them away.’

A lad came forward to hold his master’s horse. ‘There are water troughs over yonder,’ Jasper told him, pointing towards the stable block. ‘And tell the captain to send a couple of men up to the house to collect refreshments.’ The youth touched his forehead in acknowledgement and led the horse away but Jasper called after him. ‘And bring my saddlebags to me.’

‘I will, my lord.’

By now Bethan had emerged cautiously with Nesta. The little girl was clutching her mother’s skirts, scared by the sight of so many horses and men, but Bethan was smiling and nodding, delighted in her simple way to see Jasper again. ‘Give you good day Jasper,’ she said with a little bob.

He strode forward and sent her into a flurry by kissing her hand. ‘Bethan, looking as beautiful as ever and blessed again I see.’ His sharp eyes had noticed her swollen belly. ‘God protect you, and the little one.’ He squatted down and ruffled Nesta’s curly mop of bronze hair. She stared solemnly back at him, her dark eyes enormous. ‘Oh you are a brave girl,’ he said, smiling. ‘Most children I speak to immediately start yelling.’ He glanced up at me. ‘So this is the newborn babe you brought into the world the last time I was here?’

‘Well, the midwife helped a little,’ I said, ‘and Bethan helped a lot, obviously!’

‘What is your name?’ Jasper was still squatting at the infant’s level.

‘Nesta,’ piped the little girl.

‘It is a Welsh form of Agnes. Bethan loved my mother.’ For some reason I felt it necessary to explain why the offspring of a second wife should be named for the one who had preceded her.

‘Agnes is in heaven,’ my stepmother said in her guileless treble. ‘She looks after my Nesta.’

Jasper straightened up. ‘It is a pretty name for a pretty girl,’ he told Bethan.

At this moment my father and my brother Maredudd strode around the corner of the house, wiping hands mired with sheep grease on their smocks. Hywel bent his knee to Jasper respectfully. ‘I was told the Earl of Pembroke was here,’ he said. ‘You are welcome to Tŷ Cerrig, my lord.’