: C.B. Hanley
: A Pale Horse A Mediaeval Mystery (Book 9)
: The Mystery Press
: 9781803996677
: A Mediaeval Mystery
: 1
: CHF 4.90
:
: Historische Kriminalromane
: English
: 234
: Wasserzeichen
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB
June 1221: a tragic death at Conisbrough sends Edwin Weaver and his friend Sir Martin on an unexpected journey. But a baffling letter follows them, one which plunges them into danger as they travel to the manor of Martin's estranged father, deep inside Sherwood Forest, to find a dying man who can only gasp out a few cryptic phrases. Edwin has his work cut out to solve the mystery - the people with the most compelling reasons to commit the murder could not possibly have done so, while those with the opportunity have seemingly no motive. Martin, meanwhile, must try to reconcile himself with his family even as he remains convinced that he is destined to bring ill luck and death wherever he goes. When another murder attempt is made, Edwin realises he must work quickly to stop more death being visited on the innocent.

C.B. HANLEY holds a PhD in Medieval Studies specialising in warfare in the 12th and 13th centuries and its portrayal in contemporary vernacular literature. She has published an academic book and a number of scholarly articles on the period, and continues to write non-fiction history as well as novels. Between her first degree and PhD she spent some time working as a historical interpreter, which gave her a practical grounding in medieval life to add to her theoretical studies, which is very useful in adding background colour to her novels. She is also a freelance copy editor and proof-reader.

Chapter One


Conisbrough Castle, South Yorkshire

June 1221

‘Requiescat in pace.’

Edwin uttered the time-honoured words along with everyone else in the castle chapel, his head bowed and his eyes closed as he asked God’s mercy for the dead man.

It was strange to be attending a funeral where there was no body to bury. But then it wasn’t really a funeral, was it? More of a memorial service, because although they’d only heard the news yesterday, Sir Roger had been dead for many months. He’d perished in a place unimaginably far away and exotic, a city called Damietta, in Egypt, a land Edwin had only ever heard of in Bible stories and couldn’t even begin to visualise. And there, under the scorching sun of Outremer, he would lie at rest until Judgement Day.

Edwin called Sir Roger’s face to mind as he prayed. The knight had been a good friend and a fine and honourable man and, having met his death while on crusade, he was sure of the mercy they were all praying for. Edwin was confident that Sir Roger would soon be in heaven where he belonged, if he wasn’t there already, meeting up with the old friends and comrades who had reached it before him.

Edwin concluded his prayers and opened his eyes to find that he was the last to do so, the others already crossing themselves and getting to their feet. He was at the back, nearest the door, so he jumped up and made way for everyone else to leave: the lord earl, followed by his clerk Brother William and Conisbrough’s castellan Sir Geoffrey, then Sir Martin, having to duck under the lintel, and finally the squires Adam and Hugh and the little page, Wil.

That just left Father Ignatius, and Edwin moved to assist the priest in putting away the vessels and folding up the altar cloth. As he did so, he noticed the strain on the other’s face. ‘Courage, Father. I know we’re all sorry that Sir Roger’s gone – and I’ll certainly miss him – but he died doing what he wanted, and the Lord’s work too, on crusade, so we should be glad for him and his soul.’

‘Oh, I am,’ replied the priest, in a tone that sounded anything but, while he looked around to check that everything was safely stowed. ‘And although he was only a young man, he’d already achieved a great deal and he was much loved. How many others can say the same, when their time comes?’ He sighed. ‘No, I’m afraid the weight on my shoulders is that I’m going straight to another funeral, down in the church.’

Edwin recollected. ‘Oh yes, of course…’

‘Burying children is part of my lot as a parish priest, but it never ge