“We, old friend! I want you with me, and I think Abbot Radulfus will give me leave to take you. You’re better skilled than I in dead men, in how long they may have been dead, and how they died. Moreover, he’ll want a watching eye on all that affects Saint Giles, and who better than you? You’re waist-deep in the whole matter already, you must either sink or haul clear.”
This is not an unusual situation for our Brother Cadfael whose adventures began several years ago in Shrewsbury, England. Winter is coming to the abbey of Saint Peter and Saint Paul where Brother Cadfael, an ex-soldier has spent most of the past two decades. It is 1140 and there is civil war going on and, fortunately for its location, the abbey has avoided incident.
"…and the abbey had good cause to be grateful to them, for many of its sister houses along the Welsh marches had been sacked, pillaged, evacuated, turned into fortresses for war, some more than once, and no remedy offered. Worse than the armies of King Stephen on the one hand and his cousin the empress on the other—and in all conscience they were bad enough—the land was crawling with private armies, predators large and small, devouring everything, wherever they were safe from any force of law strong enough to contain them. In Shropshire the law had been strong enough, thus far, and loyal enough to care for its own."
The church has a large role to play and King Stephen has sent a church emissary north on a special mission. He never arrives. His body is missing and the focus is on the last place he stayed (close to Shrewsbury) before disappearing. Is it coincidence that the younger son of the host has just come the abbey of Saint Peter and Saint Paul with a plea to join the brotherhood?
"In a country racked by civil war, and therefore hampered in keeping ordinary law and order, everything unaccountable was being put down to outlaws living wild; but for all that, now and then the simplest explanation turns out to be the true one."
There is a bit more action is this Cadfael than in many of the others, but this doesn’t mean that Peters neglects her wonderful details of the necessities of life. These details just flow along with the story but I find myself totally immersed in them, such as: "There was no one more tireless in collecting the stouter boughs of fallen wood, no one so agile in binding and loading them."
Even a minor character gets a full personality: "Brother Mark sat down obediently, sighing away the burden of his knowledge. Grateful for the humblest of hospitality, he was equally unawed by the noblest, and having no pride, he did not know how to be servile. When Aline herself brought him meat and drink, and the same for Cadfael, he received it gladly and simply, as saints accept alms, perpetually astonished and pleased, perpetually serene."
No newspapers, no internet, no texting….everything is local and word of mouth. Peters captures this so well.
"The news went round, as news does, from gossip to gossip, those within the town parading their superior knowledge to those without, those who came to market in town or Foregate carrying their news to outer villages and manors. As the word of Peter Clemence’s disappearance had been blown on the wind, and after it news of the discovery of his body in the forest, so did every breeze spread abroad the word that his killer was already taken and in prison in the castle, found in possession of the dead man’s dagger, and charged with his murder. No more mystery to be mulled over in taverns and on street-corners, no further sensations to be hoped for. The town made do with what it had, and made the most of it. More distant and isolated manors had to wait a week or more for the news to reach them."
Another nice difference from some of the series is the appearance of powerful women. "“Girl,” said Cadfael, breathing in deeply, “you terrify me like an act of God. And I do believe you will pull down the thunderbolt.”"
But Brother Cadfael is the constant. He is able to read character and draw out information from almost all.
"He went up through the town to the castle that same afternoon, bespoken by Hugh from the abbot as healer even to prisoners and criminals. He found the prisoner Harald in a cell at least dry, with a stone bench to lie on, and blankets to soften it and wrap him from the cold, and that was surely Hugh’s doing. The opening of the door upon his solitude occasioned instant mute alarm, but the appearance of a Benedictine habit both astonished and soothed him, and to be asked to show his hurts was still deeper bewilderment, but softened into wonder and hope. After long loneliness, where the sound of a voice could mean nothing but threat, the fugitive recovered his tongue rustily but gratefully, and ended in a flood of words like floods of tears, draining and exhausting him."
One of Peters’ best and most satisfying.
4.5*