It mattered little to Henry that the cardinal was arrogant, tactless and ostentatious; indeed it suited his purpose that Wolsey should be saddled by public opinion with all the blame that ought to have been laid on his own shoulders.
If he didn't like Connor, his mood wouldn't have mattered a bit.
It no longer mattered how they were conceived, carried or delivered.
It mattered much, now that Sicily was to have a barbarian master, whether that master should be the kindred barbarian of Europe or the barbarian of Asia transplanted to the shore of Africa.
To Dean, his reputation mattered only in the eyes of one person, his wife.
That the Virgin should be given a title that was quasi-divine mattered little.
Of course, none of that mattered if she couldn't get them out of there.
For the first time it mattered to her.
In that moment, nothing else mattered to him.
It mattered little that he desolated the shrine of St James at Compostella, the monastery of Cardena in Castile, took Leon, Pamplona and Barcelona, if at the end he left the roots of the Christian states firm in the soil, and to his son and successor as hajib only a mercenary army without patriotism or loyalty.