Ellis Peters shares one violent and several gentle mysteries with us in the nineteenth novel of Brother Cadfael’s time with the Benedictine Abbey in Shrewsbury, England.
Most of the plot centers on the reliquary of St. Winifred. Readers of previous stories will know much about how this saint came to be and Cadfael’s special relationship to her. Those who are just reading this novel can do so without having all those details. It may be helpful to recall that Cadfael is a former crusader, who fought in the “Holy Lands” and then returned to Britain and sought the calm and quiet of a monastic life.
Another aspect that plays into the plot is the “Sortes Sacrae” an ancient practice of the Church (and probably before it) where a holy book is randomly consulted for guidance. It helps set the tone for this Benedictine Monastery.
Some may find the initial diminution of action less than desirable. For me, this book was a garden of delights and many of those are due to Peters’ skills in observation and description. Her mastery of description knows few peers. For example:
“(He) was a husbandman born, a big candid, fair fellow, to all appearances better built for service in arms than his younger brother, but a man for whom soil and crops and wellkept livestock would always be fulfillment enough. He would raise sons in his own image, and the earth would be glad of them.”
“The path to the manor…set off northeastward from the lanes of the Foregate, threaded a short, dense patch of woodland, and climbed over a low crest of heath and meadow to look down upon the winding course of the Severn, downstream from the town. The river was running high and turgid, rolling fallen branches and clumps of turf from banks down in its currents. There had been ample snows in the winter…The thaw still filled the valleys everywhere with the soft rippling of water, even the meadows by the river and the brook whispered constantly and shimmered with lingering silver among the grass…On the further side of the Severn the path threaded wet water-meadows, the river lipping the bleached winter grass a yard inland already. If heavy Spring rains came on the hills of Wales, to follow the thaw-water, there would flooding under the walls of Shrewsbury.”
“He was cleanshaven, in the Norman manner, leaving open to view a face broad at the brow and well provided with strong and shapely bone, a lean jaw, and a full, firm mouth, long-lipped and mobile, and quirking upward at the corners to match a certain incalculable spark in his eye.”
“A little mischief in it, Hugh judged, content to be an onlooker and have the best view of the game, but no malice. He’s amusing himself at a dull time of the year, and being here without his womenfolk, but he’s adroit at calming the storm as he is at raising it. Now what more can he do to pass the evening pleasantly, and entertain his guests?”
Tone is a subjective characteristic. Your opinion/my opinion may never be reconciled. For me, this book was about tone perfect. I felt myself in rural England and among these medieval people with their daily concerns and tasks. It is a rare book that can take me that far from the 21st century. The Holy Thief is one of her best. 4.5