I decided to call at Lamphey Palace on my way to Caldicot, as I had done a couple of times since Edmund and Margaret’s wedding. On those occasions Edmund had not been present, off on some royal business, and I had enjoyed some time with Margaret and her young lady friends, girls from local gentry families who came and went and kept her amused through the long winter months. On this occasion I discovered that my brother was in fact in residence. I sent Maredudd with my horse to the stables while I made my way to the inner gatehouse, which led into the palace’s private domain. Beyond its arch was a garden, which in the balmy May weather was already verdant with spring growth. It ran under the wall of the impressive hall where Margaret had entertained me on previous visits. But before venturing further I stopped inside the arch to speak to the porter, who wore a monkish habit, although I knew him to be a lay member of the episcopal household.

He recognized me and came out of his lodge to make me a bow. ‘My lord of Pembroke, welcome. I believe my lord and lady of Richmond are in the garden making the most of this fine weather. Would you like me to send someone to announce your arrival?’

‘No, thank you.’ I wagged a negative finger, put it to my lips and winked at him. ‘I will seek them out myself and surprise them. The garden is not that large after all.’

The porter looked a little doubtful but said nothing and bowed himself back into his lodge. Stepping out into the bright sunlight I paused to get my bearings, blinking and temporarily blinded. On one side the garden was divided by straight gravel paths with tidy herb beds, and on the other side small trees and shrubs were arranged in clumps with winding walks between which visitors might wander and lose themselves. A green retreat, laid out for the bishop to take the air, commune with nature and pray. But the sounds emanating from within the bushes were not the sounds of prayer.

I stood in the dappled shadow of a path where branches met overhead forming an emerald tunnel. Suddenly Margaret appeared in a brief flash of blue silk, running across the path a few yards ahead of me, too quickly to register my presence. In her wake she left the echo of laughter, then her voice sang out through the bushes. ‘Catch me if you can, sir, but you will not!’

‘Oh yes I will, my lady, and when I do – watch out!’ It was Edmund, striding across the path further along, clutching a jewelled cup and snatching a sip from it as he went. He, too, did not see me.