‘I’m an egg who would rather be hard-boiled than turned into a soufflé.’ Josée giggled. ‘Not sure I get the metaphor, darling.’ ‘A hard-boiled egg is resilient. It will last for days. You can boil it on a Wednesday and take it on a picnic
...more
“Suddenly de Montfort went rigid and the ciborium slipped from his hand, dashing the white hosts like snowflakes onto the altar steps. The man’s hand went out, pointing at the king, his usually skull-like face now almost cadaverous, the skin drawn tight, the eyes bulging. Corbett rose, his hand searching for the knife beneath his cloak. De Montfort’s mouth opened and shut like a landed carp, then with a loud cry he fell headlong down the steps, his”
― The Angel of Death
― The Angel of Death
“So why the Covenant of Genesis?’ ‘Maybe they were big fans of Phil Collins,’ Chase suggested. Nina managed a small laugh, then shook her head in puzzlement. ‘I don’t get it.”
― The Covenant of Genesis
― The Covenant of Genesis
“is an interesting link between Edward II’s favourites and the English royal family in the last decade of the twentieth century. After Gaveston’s death, Edward chose a new favourite, the very sinister but able Hugh de Spencer, whose tomb can still be seen in Tewkesbury Abbey, Gloucestershire. De Spencer’s control over the young king led to civil war between Edward and his Isabella. The Queen was victorious. De Spencer died a horrible death and, according to unpublished chronicle, the Commons took an oath never to allow a de Spencer to become King. The present”
― The Prince of Darkness
― The Prince of Darkness
“Then de Montfort, resplendent in liturgical robes as well as his own arrogance, walked back to the altar where the mass continued.”
― The Angel of Death
― The Angel of Death
“are four main routes out of London and we might be moving on any one of them. North, into the flat lands beyond Finsbury Fields. Westward, down the river in the direction of Greenwich. Or perhaps eastwards – although on that route the cart would have passed through Holborn and Westminster, and a prudent driver might prefer to steer away from crowded places. These directions all involved traversing relatively law-abiding areas of the city. On the other hand, if we had crossed the river either by the bridge or ferry, we would have moved south through my own patch of Southwark. This was no particular source of comfort. Were I planning to take someone prisoner and carry him off to a secret destination, this is the direction I would take. Everyone knows that the law and authority of the city do not stretch far on our bank of the Thames. Men and women who have stumbled into trouble recognise that they have a bolt-hole here. Even those on the right side of the law but afraid of its frown – boatmen, for example, or the owners of bearpits – feel instinctively that they are at home south of the water. Respectable figures like the players of the Chamberlain’s Men are resident in Southwark. Master WS, he lived in the Liberty of the Clink, did he not? Though not Master Richard Burbage, no, he lived with seven little Burbages somewhere oh-so-proper north of the river . .”
― Sleep of Death
― Sleep of Death
Margaret’s 2025 Year in Books
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