A week later an ironmonger called at Bampton Castle. His was a regular visit, for he supplied Lord Gilbert’s farrier and the town smith from the stock in his heavily weighted wagon. I asked if he supplied stock to Alard, the Burford smith. He did.
“How does he?” I asked. “And his daughter, is she well?”
“Oh, aye,” he replied. “An’ Alard’s a grandfather. Margaret had a babe four days past. A fine, healthy little lass, too, she is.”