The Chancellor's Secret

 The 25th and final installment in Susannah Gregory's Matthew Bartholomew mysteries is a decent mystery but more importantly gives the characters a happy ending. Matthew marries Matilde, he's given a source of income so he can continue to treat the poor while still supporting himself, his sister Edith has remarried to a wealthy and good man, Brother Michael has installed a figurehead into the Chancellor's position so he can run the university from behind the scenes, and the town will no longer have to worry about Sheriff Tuylet's disturbed and violent teenage son.

In the meantime, Matt and Michael have to solve the mysterious deaths of two Chancellor candidates and deal with a collapsed bridge while Matt handles an atypical outbreak of the flux and two about-to-graduate students who've already set up shop as physicians. Matt's also frustrated by the local woman who's helping Matilde and Edith plan the wedding, worried about whether his sister's new marriage of convenience (her late husband had left a financial mess and her new husband is wealthy), and contemplating life once he gives up his teaching position. Add in a drought which turns into a flood and Gregory provides a fitting sendoff for her characters. I'll miss them, but I've got 25 books to reread.

The Tintern Treasure

 There's only one more book in Kate Sedley's Roger the Chapman series, and as The Tintern Treasure unfolds, we get an uneasy feeling about Roger's sometime employer, Richard III. There's an undercurrent of gossip about the missing Princes, and Roger hears much of it because the people of Bristol believe his connection with Richard is stronger than it is. Roger is too busy trying to earn a living when he spends the night at Tintern Abbey to care much about political intrigue. Through an attempted robbery of the abbey's rumored treasure and Roger's attempts to contact the father of a dying former fling's baby boy, he once again ends up in the middle of political intrigue, only this time in endangers his family as well. As I read, I thought there were too many plot lines for a coherent mystery but Sedley left a clue here, a casual comment there so that they all converged in an exciting final chapter. I'll miss Roger when I read his final adventure - I've known him for over 25 of my years and about 10 of his - but I can always go back to the beginning.

The Midsummer Crown

When I read Kate Sedley's first Roger the Chapman series, I hadn't yet become interested in Plantagent and Tudor England so the fact that Roger set out to improve Richard III's image faded into the background with the second book and the move away from political intrigue. Around book 14, Richard of Gloucester again needed Roger's help and the series has alternated between political and personal crimes since then. The Midsummer Crown is one of the political installments, but court machinations stayed with me less than the apparently unconnected male/female conflict among the families of the courtiers. The "twist" ending was well done, both sufficiently surprising and well-supported, and the whispers about the missing princes felt like ordinary rumors that would go around the court rather than the lurid stories we've grown accustom to. At the end of the novel, Roger attends Richard III's coronation feast and then goes home to Bristol. There are two more books in the series and while the final one will probably end at Bosworth, I hope the next one focuses on Bristol or Roger's commercial travels.

The Sanctuary Murders

 I think Susannah Gregory is winding down her Matthew Bartholomew series. I'm going to miss it, particularly since my re-reading has showed me how the characters have evolved. The Sanctuary Murders isn't one of my favorite installments, though. I don't know if it was the book or if my 2020-induced stress made it harder to concentrate, but I just couldn't get into it (and have stalled on writing this review). Missing his fiancee Matilda (who's on a wedding-clothes buying trip with his sister Edith), Matthew Bartholomew finds himself tasked with solving mysterious deaths at a nearby hospital. The hospital isn't what it appears to be, and neither are the victims or the rest of the inmates. Complicated by more intense than usual town-versus-gown tensions and Brother Michael's new job as the University Chancellor, the crime felt like there were too many suspects and motives and none of them particularly likely. Add in feuding nuns visiting Cambridge for a conclave and I felt that there was too much distraction and not enough entertainment. Or maybe I was just overwhelmed by 2020 and when I get around to re-reading this one (in 10-25 years), I'll appreciate it more.

A Deadly Brew

I've compared Susanna Gregory's Matthew Bartholomew mysteries to a workplace comedy, and the humor stars coming through in the fourth installment, A Deadly Brew, in part through the introduction of Ralph de Langelee. The future college head makes his first appearance as a suspiciously unlearned lecturer and Matt and Brother Michael are not surprised when he turns out to be a spy. Neither are they surprised to find out that the wine which is poisoning members of both town and gown was smuggled in. Starting with two deaths connected to the surprise election of the new University Chancellor and including an escape (accompanied by an elderly nun and a merchant's niece) through the fens from a convent, A Deadly Brew is a satisfying mystery.

The Habit of Murder

Susanna Gregory's Matthew Bartholomew books now span twelve of his years and twenty-three volumes. When a series gets this long, I start to worry about its ending. Particularly since Matt's coming wedding will end his association with Michaelhouse College. The ending, though, hints at a possible loophole.

The Habit of Murder has a very modern feel, despite it's 14th Century setting.  Matt, Brother Michael, and college head Langelee set out to pay their respects to (and hope for a bequest from) the Lady of Clare. They're accompanied by scholars from her wealthy namesake college and from St. Thomas (Swinecroft), including the now bitter man who founded the former and heads the latter.

The Lady, as it turns out, is not dead, but the village is in turmoil.  Just like Cambridge, there's conflict between the townsfolk and the supporting institution, in this case the Lady's castle.  The central cause appears to be the local church, the fan vaulted nave of which has been appropriated by the Lady, and the new south wing of which has been left to the town. Also like Cambridge, there seem to be a lot of unexpected deaths (or maybe Matt just has the bad luck to frequently encounter corpses). The chief mason, a local lord, and various people from the castle recently died under suspicious circumstances. Add in a vicar and an entire abbey of monks who are former warriors (one a former associate of Langelee), a sociable hermit (who reminds me of the Monty Python sketch - "The thing about being a hermit is that you get to meet people"), a comfort and gossip loving "holy" anchorite walled up in the church, and the castle's steward's 24-year-old prankster twins and it looks like Gregory is in a comic mood.

Then someone murders one of the Cambridge delegation, along with the steward's wife (she's one of the few good people in the town or castle). We learn that Anne, the anchorite, did not choose her calling but was the castle nurse banished for performing an abortion on a rape victim, and that she'd provided her (relatively) safe services on other women seduced and abandoned, or raped, by the castle squires. Published as #MeToo was peaking, this feels prescient, and Matt's focus on the danger rather than the ethics of abortion echoes modern discussions of the risks of legal restrictions driving abortion underground.

These plot lines all seem to be going in different directions until the last 40 pages, when Matt and Michael find the truly surprising cause linking the dates. They bring peace to Clare after a scene worthy of a modern action movie, but with a loss to Michaelhosue.  A loss, however, that may lead to a more stable future for the institution which has been on the edge of dissolution since A Vein of Deceit.

A Bone of Contention

I try to start mystery series with the first book, but 20-odd years ago, I started the Matthew Bartholomew series with the third chronicle, A Bone of Contention. Looking at my reviews of the re-reads of the first two books, I'm glad I did. By the third book, Susanna Gregory had a better feel for Matt's character and his relationships with his colleagues, particularly Brother Michael.  She'd also started to introduce the humor that has kept my interest through the occasional sub-par mysteries.

The mystery in A Bone of Contention is well constructed. Someone is exacerbating the ongoing town/gown disputes of 1352 Cambridge into outright riots, and it somehow ties to both the death of a local man-turned-crusader-turned-villain who's legend has become that of a hero/saint and the family problems of the head of one of the colleges. Interspersed with comic scenes of Matt unconsciously attracting the attention of a pair of competitive sisters and the debauchery of a Michaelhouse feast, the book stands up after 20 years. Gregory's books are hard to find in the US, which is a shame. Local readers are definitely missing out.

A Grave Concern

Matthew Bartholomew and his associates in 14th Century Cambridge are old friends by now, not just to each other but also to me.  IT's the advantage of a long-running series - we know and appreciate the characters' foibles and Susannah Gregory can use them to plausibly send her detectives along the wrong path.

A Grave Concern opens with change.  Michael house has a new, repellant fellow n the young and arrogant Kolvyle, Sheriff Tulyet has Sir John Moyles as a prisoner with privileges (he's a favorite of the King), and Brother Michael is about to leave for a bishopric.  That would be enough without a new barber surgeon committing malpractice on Matt's patients while accusing him of encroaching on his profession, battling monument makers, and an increase in smuggling.  Not to Gregory who adds the murder of Chancellor Tynknell. Soon Moylens is dead too - murdered i the same way and three of the five candidates to replace Tynknell are no longer in the running. One is dead, one (along with an apprentice) is missing, and the third has withdrawn.  Michael, Matt, and Tulyet are experienced investigators, but they're hampered by Matt's medieval ethics, the increasing feebleness of Tulyet's sergeant, and Michael's needs o solve the case and install a proper puppet - I mean Chancellor - before he leaves Cambridge.  A Grave concern ties together several complicated plot lines and allows our detectives to serve justice after several false conclusions.  The personal stories, however, have a bit of a twist, and I'm looking forward to Matthew Bartholomew's 23rd Chronicle.

An Unholy Alliance

Four years ago, I re-read A Plague on Both Your Houses, the first book in Susannah Gregory's Matthew Bartholomew series, as part of an online book group.  The characters (and 14th Century Cambridge) had changed so much in the 15 or so years that had passed for Matt and his friends that I decided to re-read the entire series.  So why did it take four years?  Well, I don't have a To Be Read list, I have a To Be Read library.

Gregory starts An Unholy Alliance with a man trying to steal important university documents.  Unfortunately for him, the lock was a special one with a poisoned prong and the Chancellor finds the man's body.  He gives Matt and Brother Michael (not yet a Proctor, but already plotting his ascension to the highest office in the University) the task of finding out who this man is, how he died, and why he was robbing the University.  Somehow this mystery may (or may not) tie to the cults that have grown up in the wake of the Plague and a series of women (mostly prostitutes) murdered and left with marked feet.  As with my first re-read, I enjoyed the mystery (which Gregory ties together well), but was more interested in the characters.  Brother Michael is now a friend and ally to Matt, but we don't yet have his entire backstory as a courtier or know the depths of both his ambition and his skills.   Matt's book bearer Cynric is still a bit of a cypher, although we see the first hints of his ladies' man persona, and William is an antagonist rather than the Friend Nobody Likes he becomes by the middle of the series.  We meet Sheriff Tulyet for the first time, and I'd forgotten that he (like Michael) was somewhat antagonistic at the start, and Matt's first crop of students, including the rich but hopelessly dim Deynman.  Most importantly, we meet Matilda, leader of the sisterhood, protector of her fellow prostitutes, and Matt's eventual love.  I'd forgotten how casually she'd been introduced, and I wonder if Gregory intended for her to be a minor, or even one-off character.

Lionheart

Sharon Kay Penman originally intended to write a trilogy, but she couldn't let go of Richard I.  He was a supporting character in Devil's Brood, completely overshadowed by reckless Henry, scheming Geoffrey, and callow, spoiled John.  Richard was the dashing hero, more valuable but much less interesting.  Penman found something compelling in his character, though, and while Lionheart sprawls across three years and dozens of battles, it doesn't quite live up to her usual standards.  The problem, I think, is Richard.  He's not as compelling as his parents or brothers (or the Welsh heroes of her first trilogy), and the martial focus doesn't leave room for Penman's strength, finding humanity in politically astute schemers.  Richard comes across as more complex than in her prior books, but other than a few scenes with his Saracen opponents, he's working alone.  Lionheart is worth reading, but it didn't transport me the way her best books have.

The Lost Abbot

If I'd read The Lost Abbot before Death of a Scholar, I might not have felt like I was missing something while reading the latter.  Or perhaps not, because I was alternating chapters of Susanna Gregory's novel with articles on recent developments in treating drug resistant bacterial infections.  While reading The Lost Abbot, my mind was clear of almost everything but whether Expressway traffic would allow me to finish the chapter before the bus reached the train station.

The Abbot of Peterborough has disappeared and the order has sent Brother Michael (scholar, courtier, and Matthew Bartholomew's closest friend) to investigate.  He's accompanied by several Michaelhouse colleagues.  Master Ralph de Langelee is a retired soldier who's still good in a fight (and his latest lover's husband has discovered the relationship), Brother William has once again alienated much of Cambridge, Matt has become too close to the surgeon's wife, and gentle Clippsby can't be separated from his protectors.  Once in Peterborough, they find an abbey full of intrigue and a town whipped to the edge of revolution by the 14th Century version of a millionaire socialist.  Gregory wrote a satisfying mystery with hints of workplace comedy.  We've known Matt, his book bearer Cynric, Michael, and William for 19 books and the other two travelers for more than a dozen.  We see how they know and play to each other's strengths and foibles, and how even prickly and unlikable William is a friend who the other can count on to "have their backs."  Once again, I want to binge-read the series from the beginning so I can see how the friendships have developed.

Death of a Scholar

I just realized I skipped an installment in Susannah Gregory's Matthew Bartholomew series.  I have it, but a month ago grabbed the wrong book.  While you can read her books out of order, there are enough continuing characters that it helps to read consecutively.  Maybe that's why I was confused by some of the interactions between Matt and Julitta Holm, the wife of the local surgeon.  Or maybe it's because I was in the process of researching antibiotics for MDR infections - I'm pretty sure that's why I had trouble keeping characters, deaths, and motives straight.

Death of a Scholar starts with the death of a merchant, Matt's brother-in-law Oswald Stanmore.  His death is followed by the deaths of several members of the Guild of St. Mary which Oswald started to assuage his conscience over his shady business deals.  Matt and Brother Michael, his friend and the University's Senior Proctor, suspect that the deaths are related not only to each other but to the new college being rapidly built to train lawyers.  The new Wynwick Hall - and every other college and hostel in Cambridge - has attracted more scholars than they can accommodate, adding to the always tense town-gown relations.  Even in my distracted state, Matt's and Michael's detection held my attention.  I didn't solve the puzzle, but Gregory left enough clues to support the murder's identity and  transmitted them to the audience through the gentle, delusional, but surprisingly observant Clippesby.

Murder by the Book

I suspect that there are only a few more installments in Susanna Gregory's Matthew Bartholomew series.  Murder by the Book is the eighteenth book in the series, and nearly two years after the publication of the twentieth volume, Gregory hasn't published a follow-up.  Additionally, for the first time since the middle of the series, Matt both mentions Matilde and realizes he's attracted to another woman for the first time since Matilde left Cambridge.

Matt's romantic life, though, isn't particularly important to Murder by the Book.  Once again, the colleges and hostels of Cambridge are at odds.  The University is, thanks to a benefactor, building a library.  Matt takes the logical view - with a central repository, all University members, even those who belong to poor institutions, will have access to a variety of books.  His view barely wins when the question comes to a vote, and during the meeting someone throws a book which hits a scholar on the head.  Coslaye, the stricken scholar, survives thanks to Matt's skill, but a few months later, he's attacked again and killed. Is his murder (and the others in Cambridge) related to the library?  Or are they connected to the smugglers plaguing Sheriff Tuylet?  And who is the French spy being hunted by one of the King's top agents (who also happens to be Brother Michael's mother)?  Gregory cleanly ties together the related plots, and includes several scenes showing Matt's and Michael's interpersonal chemistry.  If there are only two more books in the series, I'll miss spending time with the two of them.

Mistress of the Monarchy: The Life of Katherine Swynford, Duchess of Lancaster

Katherine Swynford presented Alison Weir with a problem which the author mentioned in her introduction.  Although she's the direct ancestor of every British monarch since Henry VII, 6 US Presidents, and Winston Churchill (among other illustrious figures), we know almost nothing about her.  Her family was gentry but not notable; her father was a foreign knight and Katherine came to Britain to serve in the household of John of Gaunt's first wife Blanche, Duchess of Lancaster.  Katherine married another knight, and after her husband and Blanche died, she became governess to Blanche's two daughters.  She also became John of Gaunt's, by then married to Constance of Castille mistress, eventually giving birth to four of his children.

Royal men frequently took mistresses and provided for their children.  What they did not do was flaunt their affairs.  John's public acknowledgement of Katherine created a scandal; a scandal which increased during the early years of Richard II's reign.  Katherine and John parted amicably, and she managed the estates inherited from her husband while John tried to bring Castille under the English Crown.  Eventually Constance died and John did the unthinkable - he married his mistress and spent the last few years of his life with her.

Katherine seems to be a very lucky woman, always in the right place at the right time.  There's so little information about her because she wasn't remarkable, but her descendants founded a dynasty.  It's as if Lizzie Bennet were Queen Victoria's grandmother.  Weir doesn't exactly explain how Katherine gained her status, but she demonstrated that Katherine was intelligent and well-liked, as well as strikingly beautiful.  Charm, brains, warmth, and a little bit of luck can bring you far in life.  In Katherine's case, they brought her into the royal family, and even helped her brother-in-law, a low-born poet and courtier named Geoffrey Chaucer, rise in the royal household.

Mystery in the Minster

A few weeks after the events of The Killer of Pilgrims, Ralph de Langelee may have a solution to Michaelhouse College's financial problems.  Now the Master of Michaelhouse, Langelee was a soldier in service to the late William Zouche, Archbishop of York.  A codicil to Zouche's will left a church to Michaelhouse, and now that the incumbent priest has died, Michaelhouse can claim the parish's income.    There's a problem, though.  No one can find the codicil and the minster's vicars have taken possession of the church.  To enforce Michaelhouse's claim, Langelee travels to York with law lecturer John Radford, devious courtier-turned-theologian Brother Michael, and exhausted physician Matthew Bartholomew (ostensibly for "relaxation").

Once in York, they discover that the codicil may never have existed and that several Zouche's executors have died mysteriously.  Then Radford dies, shortly after claiming to have found the codicil.  Matt sets out to learn who killed his friend, and succeeds.  I, unfortunately, didn't care.  Matt belongs to Cambridge, and I feel a bit lost when he roams too far from home.  Gregory needed too much exposition to introduce all the new characters and settings, and yet many the characters remained indistinguishable and the situations confusing.  Mystery in the Minster entertained me, particularly the final action scenes, but didn't stick in my mind.  It's worth reading if, like me, you're a bit obsessive about reading whole series in order.  The casual Susannah Gregory fan can probably give it a miss.

A Plague on Both Your Houses

I read a lot of mysteries - they make up more than half of my reading and most of my fiction reading.  I also re-read some of them, which probably sounds odd to others.  If you know who "dunnit" there's no reason to read it again, right?  Not really.  I enjoy trying to solve the puzzle, but if the only thing the book has going for it is a good puzzle, it's barely worth reading the first time.  A mystery novel is first and foremost a novel, and therefore needs to be well written, with vivid descriptions and interesting characters.  And sometimes, after 15 years, I may forget the killer's identity and motive.

Susanna Gregory's A Plague on Both Your Houses introduced Matthew Bartholomew, professor of medicine at Michaelhouse College, Cambridge.  I've now known Matthew for 15 years (10 in his timeline), and it was interesting to see how he's changed in that time.  He was fairly new to the University in 1348, somewhat unsure of the politics, and in love with his roommate's sister.  Overall, he seemed a bit, innocent, perhaps?  Matthew is not a cynical character, but he seemed a bit less accustomed to the backstabbing (literal and figurative) so common to both town and gown. Matthew's two closest friends, his book bearer Cynric and theology instructor Brother Michael have also changed over time.  The Cynric of 1348 is a vaguely drawn character, little more than a shadowy figure who appears when most needed and not the trusted and perceptive man with a sense of humor I encountered in later books.  Brother Michael underwent an even greater transformation - through most of the book, Matthew didn't know whether he could trust his gluttonous colleague who had not yet revealed his background as a courtier.  Now that I've reminded myself of who these characters were, I want to re-read the entire series and once again watch their growth.

As I read, also I discovered I'd forgotten as much of the plot of A Plague on Both Your Houses as I had of the characters' earlier personae.  I remembered that the plague came to Cambridge, and that Matthew contracted it and recovered with the help of one of his students, and that he was informally engaged to his roommate's sister.  I'd forgotten that the book started with the death of Michaelhouse's master, and that Sir John had been murdered.  Michaelhouse's new head is the vain and bombastic Wilson, and during his installation, someone murders another Michaelhouse member.  Matthew begins his investigation, but is soon interrupted by the spread of the plague.  Somehow, through his exhaustion and frustration, he manages to stumble onto the plot at the root of the murders and, with help from an unexpected person, solves the mystery.

I don't know if this is intentional, but Gregory brings up an immunological issue.  Michaelhouse's laundress Agatha claims to be immune to the plague, and she appears to be right.  Brother Michael also avoids developing the disease, despite multiple exposures.  HIV researchers have found that some people are strongly resistant to the virus, and that the mutation that protects them from HIV may have protected their ancestors form the plague.  I hadn't heard that when I first read this book (maybe the theory hadn't even been known outside of professional circles), so it really stood out when Michael mused why he seemed to be immune.

The Dance of Death

Roger the Chapman began solving mysteries at the behest of Richard, Duke of Gloucester, and Kate Sedley has framed her novels as the memoirs of an old man countering the then-current Tudor propaganda against his occasional patron.  Sedley - and Roger - have reached 1482, a year before Richard III became king and three years before he died in battle.  Perhaps that means she's going to wind down the series, or maybe Roger will return to solving ordinary, non-political mysteries.

I hope it's the latter.  The Dance of Death is the second consecutive (and third of the last four) Roger the Chapman novel to involve Richard and political intrigue.  It's the best of those three, but I miss Roger's life in Bristol with Adela and their children.  Roger does as well, which is why Richard's spymaster Timothy Plummer intercepts Roger's message to his family to force Roger to perform one more mission.   Actually, he's on two separate missions, the first posing as the husband of a half-french woman whose cousin has information regarding the French King's attempts to void the engagement between the Dauphin and Elizabeth of York.  The second verges on treason; Richard has asked him to find evidence that Edward IV is illegitimate and that their mother was unfaithful.  Disguised as a wealthy merchant and his wife, they travel to France accompanied by one of Richard's men and Phillip Lamprey, an old friend of Roger's.

Sedley devotes most of The Dance of Death to the journey from London to Paris, seemingly followed by an unhappily married couple, a jeweler, and a flirtatious courtier and leaves the mystery to the final few pages.  Maybe that's why she got me - the killer's identity surprised me, even though I'd seen all the clues.  After a relatively disappointing installment, Sedley produced a satisfying and enjoyable mystery.  Unfortunately, I may have to miss the next few installments.  I hadn't ordered from amazon.co.uk in a few years and during that time, her publisher apparently shrank the print runs in favor of ebooks which are not available in the US.  My next trip to London may include scouring the city for used book store (or maybe curling up in a library, devouring the two books between The Dance of Death and the one I just ordered).

Devil's Brood

I love The Lion in Winter - brilliant dialog, double and triple crosses, and all performed by an amazing cast.  It's a manipulated snapshot, though, a single event which didn't actually happen but which distills the complicated relationships between Henry FitzEmpress, Eleanor of Aquitaine, and their squabbling sons.  Sharon Kay Penman takes a more historically accurate approach as the third book in her Plantagenet series sprawls through the final 17 years of Henry's reign.

Penman writes long, complicated novels with frequent shifts in location and point of view, and in Devil's Brood does so deftly.  It helps, of course, that one of her protagonists is the brilliant, proud, and stubborn Eleanor who saw herself as Duchess of Aquitaine above all other roles.  It was this pride which led Eleanor to back their sons in a revolt against her husband, a decision which led her to spend years as Henry's prisoner.  While she's a captive, her sons continue to rebel and repent, constantly shifting alliances among themselves, their father, and Phillipe of France (who, apparently, did not look like a young Timothy Dalton, more's the pity).

Interestingly, Penman leaves Richard as a supporting character, whom she portrays as a dashing soldier with little internal life.  Instead, she focuses on Henry the Young King and Geoffrey, who are less well known.  Henry comes across as a bit like Tom Bertram - a rich, handsome, rabble-rousing frat boy given more power than he can handle.  He's a lousy general and has little promise as a ruler, but he's already been named king so his father has little choice but to forgive him for his rebellions.  Ultimately he's a tragic figure who, like so many of his era, dies from dysentery, an uncrowned king.  Penman's characterization of Geoffrey owes a bit to Goldman's play.  He's a forgotten son, a scheming spare given Brittany through his marriage to Constance, the true heir.  Geoffrey is also the most intelligent and tactically-minded son, and his marriage to the equally clever Constance echoes his parents' marriage.

It's Eleanor, though, who ties the threads together.  She's a prisoner, but a high-status one who receives news and occasional visits from her rebellious children.  Eleanor also has, for the first time in her life, time to reflect.  She doesn't regret placing Aquitaine ahead of her marriage, but she accepts the truth and misses being both Henry's lover and advisor.  Their relationship is unsurprisingly strained, but never totally broken, with affection buried under the frustration, most obviously when Henry has the unenviable task of telling Eleanor of their grandson's death, and those of the Young King and of Geoffrey.  Jailer and prisoner, they're still grieving parents who have not completely forgotten their passionate relationship, and her release on his death is bittersweet because she's lost the one person who was truly her match.

The Templar, The Queen, and Her Lover

I used to love Michael Jecks's mysteries featuring Sir Baldwin de Furnshill.  I don't anymore.  I still enjoy the scenes between Baldwin and his friend Simon Puttock, but they no longer solve mysteries I care about.  Baldwin is not a political creature - please send him back to Devon, Mr. Jecks.  I'm sure you can create some local murders for him to solve.

Edward II released his wife from house arrest in 1325, and made her his envoy in negotiations with her brother, Phillip IV of France.  Isabella's entourage includes musicians (who've been blackmailed into making the trip), spies (both for and against the Queen), knights, ladies-in-waiting, and an unwilling Sir Baldwin.  Someone drowns one of the musicians in a gutter before the group set out, then someone stabs one of the knights with Baldwin's knife.  This happened about 100 pages into the book, and it's about where I lost track and lost interest.  I'm still not sure who committed either murder, or how they tied into Isabella's diplomatic mission or her affair with Roger Mortimer.  Jecks overcomplicated The Templar, The Queen, and Her Lover with too many bland characters, too many POV and setting changes, and too many disparate threads.  I have two or three more of his books on my shelf, and I will read them.  After that?   I don't know.  I feel like I've invested too much in this series to give up (literally - I've gotten most of the books from amazon.co.uk), but that's also why buying the next book in the series is, literally, a bit of an investment.

The Green Man

I've read a number of disappointing mysteries over the past few years.  A few of my favorite series hit lulls (or I reached the lesser installments), but I could rely on Kate Sedley to provide me with a crisply written puzzle which I could solve (but not too easily).  The Green Man isn't a bad book, but it doesn't live up to Sedley's prior books.

England is suffering from famine and turmoil during the summer of 1482 when Timothy Plummer (spymaster to Richard, Duke of Gloucester) arrives in Bristol with a mission for Roger Chapman.  Guard Alexander, Duke of Albany and prospective heir to the Scottish throne during a military campaign against the Scots.  Albany believes that someone is out to kill him, possibly someone close, and he believes that Roger's presence will save his life.  Roger reluctantly leaves Adela and their children and shadows Albany as someone apparently makes several attempts on his life.  Someone who usually disguises himself as the mythical Green Man.

I've complained about subplots in the past, but for me at least, the subplot to The Green Man, a murder charge against Rab Sinclair, one of Albany's closest friends, was more satisfying than the somewhat convoluted question of the threats against the Duke.  Perhaps it's because I'm less well-versed in the history of the English Monarchy (the years between Edward II and Henry VIII, particularly the Wars of the Roses, confuse me) than her average reader, but I just couldn't get a handle on the political implications.  It may be, though that Roger is more at home solving crimes in Bristol or in one of the settlements where he sells his wares.  There, as in the subplot, Roger merely has to discover and interpret the fact, and uncovering a simple lie (as happens in the Sinclair case) unravels the mystery.  Political intrigue is murkier and less easily solved.  Roger began his detecting career in the service of Duke Richard, but Sedley should probably keep him away from politics in the future.