Start Reading About this Book About the Author Reviews About this Series Table of Contents www.headofzeus.com For Earle Kotila I December 1192 The Bishop’s Palace, Chester, England ‘Do you think the king is dead?’ Aubrey de Quincy was caught off balance and furious with himself for his negligence; he ought to have expected this Throughout their meal, the sole topic had been King Richard’s disappearance All of England – and indeed, most of Christendom – talked of little else this Christmastide, for more than two months had passed since the Lionheart had sailed from Acre By December, other crusaders had begun to reach English ports But none had word of the king Had the query been posed by one of his other guests, Aubrey would have taken it for natural curiosity Coming from Hugh de Nonant, it was neither random nor innocent Coventry’s worldly bishop had few peers when it came to conversational ambushes, laying his verbal snares so deftly that his quarry rarely sensed danger until it was too late Aubrey had no intention, though, of falling heedlessly into the other bishop’s trap Stalling for time, he signalled for more wine; he prided himself upon his hospitality, so much so that men said none in the Marches set a finer table than His Grace the Bishop of Chester The servers were bringing in the next course, a large peacock afloat in a sea of gravy, bones strutted and skin and feathers painstakingly refitted, a sight impressive enough to elicit admiring murmurs from the guests Aubrey’s cooks had laboured for hours to create this culinary masterpiece Now he gazed at it with indifferent eyes, for the shadow of treason had fallen across the hall Was King Richard dead? Many men thought so, certès In alehouses and taverns, they argued whether his ship had been sunk in a gale or attacked by pirates The credulous speculated about sea-monsters But as the weeks went by, more and more of the missing king’s subjects suspected that he was dead, must be dead And none willed it more passionately than the man Hugh de Nonant served The crusade had been a failure; not even so fine a soldier-king as Richard had been able to reclaim Jerusalem from the infidels But to Aubrey, the Lionheart’s greatest failure was that he’d not sired a son He’d named his young nephew Arthur as his heir, but Arthur was a child, dwelling with his mother in Brittany There was another royal rival, one much closer at hand, Richard’s younger brother John, Count of Mortain No one doubted that John would seek to deny Arthur the crown What none could be sure of, however, was what the queen mother would All knew that Queen Eleanor and John were estranged Yet he was still her son If it came to war, whom would she back – John or Arthur? Aubrey doubted that John would make a good king, for if the serpent was ‘more subtle than any beast of the field’, so, too, was Queen Eleanor’s youngest son, unfettered by scruples or conscience qualms But he did not doubt that John would prevail over Arthur – one way or another And so he’d concluded that if he were ever faced with that choice, he’d throw his lot in with John But this was far more dangerous The Bishop of Coventry’s deceptively innocuous question confirmed Aubrey’s worst fears John was not willing to wait for word of Richard’s death John had never been one for waiting But what if Richard was not dead? What if he returned to reclaim his crown? If Arthur was no match for John, neither was John a match for Richard His wrath would be terrible to behold And even if he eventually forgave John, there would be no forgiveness for the men who’d backed him Yet Aubrey knew that if he balked at supporting John’s coup and Richard was indeed dead, he’d be squandering his one chance to gain a king’s favour For John nursed a grudge to the grave, and he’d not be forgetting who had stood with him and who had not ‘Well?’ the Bishop of Coventry prodded, smiling amiably as if they were merely exchanging pleasantries ‘What say you? Is he dead?’ Aubrey’s own smile was as bland as almond-milk ‘If I knew the answer to that question, my lord bishop, I’d be riding straightaway for London to inform the queen.’ ‘I fear the worst, alas,’ Hugh confided, though with no noticeable regret ‘If evil has not befallen him, surely his whereabouts would be known by now.’ ‘I’m not ready to abandon all hope,’ Aubrey parried, ‘and certès, the queen is not.’ ‘It is to be expected that a mother would cling to the last shreds of hope, no matter how meagre or paltry But the rest of us not have that luxury, for how long can England be without a king?’ Hugh had a pleasant voice, mellow and intimate, ideal for sharing secrets, and his words reached Aubrey’s ear alone ‘How long dare we wait?’ Aubrey was spared the need to reply by the sudden appearance of his steward on the dais ‘My lord bishop, may I have a word with you?’ ‘What is it, Martin? Is something amiss?’ ‘It is Justin, my lord He rode in a few moments ago, is insisting that he must see you at once.’ ‘Justin?’ Aubrey was startled and not pleased ‘Tell him I will see him after the meal is done and my guests have gone to their beds Have the cooks see that he is fed.’ To Aubrey’s surprise, the steward made no move to withdraw ‘Well?’ The man shifted uncomfortably ‘It is just that that the lad seems sorely distraught, my lord In truth, I’ve never seen him like this I not think he’s of a mind to wait.’ Aubrey kept his temper in check; he had contempt for men who were ruled by emotion and impulse ‘I am not offering him a choice,’ he said coolly ‘See to it.’ He was vexed by Justin’s unexpected and ill-timed arrival, and vaguely uneasy, too, with that peculiar discomfort that only Justin could provoke Nor was his mood improved to realize that Hugh de Nonant had overheard the entire exchange ‘Who is Justin?’ Aubrey gave a dismissive shrug ‘No one you know, my lord a foundling I took in some years back.’ He’d hoped that Hugh would take the hint and let the matter drop But the Bishop of Coventry had an eerie ability to scent out secrets Like a pig rooting after acorns, Aubrey thought sourly, finding himself forced by the other’s unseemly and persistent curiosity to explain that Justin’s mother had died giving him birth ‘The father was known but to God, and there was none to tend the babe It was my parish and so when his plight was brought to my attention, I agreed to what I could It is our duty, after all, to succour Christ’s poor As Scriptures say, “Suffer the little children to come unto me.” ’ ‘Very commendable,’ Hugh said, with hearty approval that would not have been suspect had the speaker been anyone else He was regarding Aubrey benevolently and Aubrey could only marvel at how deceptive outer packaging could be The two men were utterly unlike in appearance: Aubrey tall and slim and elegant, his fair hair closely cropped and shot through with silver, and Hugh rotund and ruddy and balding, looking for all the world like a good-natured, elderly monk But Aubrey knew this grandfatherly mien camouflaged a shrewd, cynical intelligence, and Hugh’s curiosity about Justin was neither idle nor benign Ever on the alert for weaknesses, the good bishop And Aubrey was suddenly very angry with Justin for attracting the notice of so dangerous a man as Hugh de Nonant ‘It may be, though, that you’ve been too indulgent with the lad,’ Hugh remarked placidly ‘It does seem rather presumptuous of him to demand an audience with you.’ Aubrey declined the bait ‘I’ve never had reason to complain of his manners until now You may be sure that I’ll take him to task for it.’ A loud fanfare of trumpets turned all heads towards the door, heralding the arrival of the meal’s pièce de résistance: a great, glazed boar’s head on a gleaming silver platter Men leaned forward in their seats to see, Aubrey’s minstrels struck up a carol, and in the flurry of the moment, the bishop’s foundling was forgotten Aubrey began to relax, once more the gracious host, a role he played well The respite gave him the chance, too, to consider his options He must find a way to intimate – without actually saying so – that he was indeed sympathetic to John’s cause, but not yet ready to commit himself, not until there was irrefutable proof of King Richard’s death It was the sharp-eyed Hugh who first noticed the commotion at the far end of the hall In the doorway, the steward was remonstrating with a tall, dark youth As Hugh watched, the younger man pulled free of the steward’s restraining hold and stalked up the centre aisle towards the dais Hugh leaned over and touched his host’s sleeve ‘May I assume that angry young interloper is your foundling?’ Unaware of the intruder bearing down upon them, Aubrey had been conversing politely with the seatmate to his left, the venerable abbot of Chester’s abbey of St Werburgh At Hugh’s amused warning, he stiffened in disbelief, then shoved his chair back Striding down the steps of the dais, he confronted Justin as he reached the open hearth, trailed by the steward ‘How dare you force your way into my hall! Are you drunk?’ ‘We need to talk,’ Justin said tersely, and Aubrey stared at him incredulously, unable to believe that Justin could be defying him like this He was acutely aware of all the curious eyes upon them The steward was hovering several feet away, looking utterly miserable – as well he ought Martin had always been friendly with Justin, too friendly, it now seemed ‘I told you that you must wait, Justin!’ ‘I have been waiting – for twenty years!’ Aubrey hesitated no longer As bad as this was, it was about to get worse Justin was a smouldering torch; God only knew what damage would be done if he flared up here in the hall ‘Come with me,’ he said abruptly ‘We’ll talk above-stairs.’ Aubrey could have led Justin up to his chambers above the hall He chose, instead, to enter his private chapel, for that was his own province, and the familiarity of the surroundings might give him an edge He was going to need every advantage he could get Two tall candles were lit upon the altar, and glowing between them was the silver-gilt crucifix that was Aubrey’s particular pride, both as a symbol of faith and a work of art Reaching out, he ran his fingers lightly over the smooth surface while bracing himself for what was to come Justin had followed him towards the altar ‘Were you ever going to tell me?’ ‘Tell you what?’ ‘That I’m your son.’ There was no surprise He’d known as soon as their eyes met in the hall Why else would Justin be so agitated? His mouth was dry, but he still managed to summon up a thin, ironic smile ‘Surely you are not serious?’ Justin was close enough now to touch, close enough for Aubrey to see the muscles tighten along his jaw ‘I’ve come from Shrewsbury,’ he said ‘I tracked down Hilde, the cook at St Alkmund’s rectory She told me about you and my mother.’ ‘And you took an old woman’s ramblings as gospel?’ ‘You deny it?’ ‘Yes,’ Aubrey said emphatically, ‘I do.’ Justin looked at him, saying nothing The silence seemed to fill every corner of the chapel, every corner of their lives When Aubrey could endure it no longer, he said, ‘This night never happened We need not refer to it again.’ ‘How generous of you.’ Justin’s voice was toneless, impossible to read Turning away, he stood motionless for a moment before the altar, and Aubrey dared to think he had won But then Justin swung around, holding out the silver-gilt crucifix ‘Swear it,’ he challenged ‘Swear upon Our Lord Christ that you are not my father!’ Aubrey opened his mouth But no words came out It was so quiet that he could hear his own breathing, uneven and much too rapid Or was it Justin’s? After an eternity, Justin lowered the crucifix, replacing it upon the altar ‘Well,’ he said, ‘at least you’ll not lie to God.’ Aubrey found it unexpectedly difficult to meet Justin’s gaze ‘There was no need for you to know,’ he said at last ‘What mattered was that I did right by you, and you cannot deny that I did I did not shirk my duty You always had food for your belly, a roof over your head –’ ‘What are you saying? That I ought to thank you for not letting me starve?’ ‘I did more than that for you,’ Aubrey snapped, ‘and well you know it! I saw to your schooling, did I not? Nor did I turn away once you were old enough to fend for yourself If it were not for me, Lord Fitz Alan would never have taken you on as a squire You have nothing to reproach me for, Justin, nothing!’ ‘A pity my mother could not say as much!’ Aubrey’s mouth hardened ‘This serves for naught The woman is twenty years dead Let her lie in peace.’ Justin’s eyes were darker than Aubrey had ever seen them, a storm-sky grey ‘Her death was convenient, was it not? How disappointed you must have been that I was not stillborn, for then you could have buried all your sins in one grave.’ Aubrey lost colour ‘That is not true You are not being fair, Justin.’ ‘Fair? What fairness did you ever show my mother, even in death? Have you forgotten what you told me? I was fourteen, had finally got up the courage to ask you about her You said that any woman bearing a child out of wedlock was a wanton, and I should put her out of my thoughts.’ ‘I thought it was for the best.’ ‘Best for you,’ Justin said scathingly, and then stunned Aubrey by starting towards the door ‘Justin, wait!’ Justin halted, his hand on the door latch, and then slowly turned around ‘What more is there to say?’ ‘A great deal,’ Aubrey insisted ‘We must decide how to deal with this Do you mean to go back to Lord Fitz Alan? I think it best if I find you another S K P April 1996 Acknowledgements In writing The Queen’s Man, my first mystery, I was venturing into unfamiliar fictional territory, and I strayed off the road from time to time Fortunately, I did not lack for guides My parents, as always Jill and John Davies, my English interpreters Valerie Ptak LaMont, who is truly the book’s godmother Marian Wood, who has been my editor at Henry Holt and Company for fifteen memorable years My agents, Molly Friedrich and Sheri Holman of the Aaron M Priest Literary Agency and Mic Cheetham of the Mic Cheetham Literary Agency, for offering encouragement, moral support, and several first-rate road maps Susan Watt, my editor at Michael Joseph, for helping me to teach Justin how to match wits with Plantagenets, prostitutes, and assorted evil-doers And lastly, Dr Lyla Perez, the Atlantic County, New Jersey Medical Examiner, for generously sharing her time and expertise, enabling me to describe Pepper Clem’s water-logged body in accurate, if grisly, detail About this Book AD 1193 England lies uneasy, a land without a king Richard the Lionheart is feared drowned on his return from Crusade, his brother John conspires to usurp the crown On the throne, in the Lionheart’s stead, sits Eleanor of Aquitaine She is determined to prevent a civil war, but there are few she can trust Justin de Quincy is bastard-born son of the Aubrey de Quincy, Bishop of Chester The Bishop never acknowledged Justin, bestowing on the boy – in lieu of name or fortune – only an education As it happens, it is a gift that, together with a blood-stained letter given to him by a dying man, will take de Quincy to the very centre of power – and into the heart of danger Moving from the Tower of London to the alehouses and stews of Southwark, from to the mountains of Wales to the wild coasts of Brittany, de Quincy will prove his mettle as the Queen’s Man – or find an early grave – as he uncovers the dark intrigues of Eleanor’s court Nominated for an Edgar Award for best first mystery novel Reviews The Queen’s Man “Penman is a superb storyteller.” —The Miami-Herald “Once you enter Penman’s world, you’re hooked.” —Seattle PostIntelligencer “Energetic and adroitly plotted Justin is so beguiling, and the action so lively and unpredictable, that readers will cheer Justin’s return in further adventures.” —Publisher’s Weekly “Well researched, credibly plotted, realistically detailed, and undeniably entertaining.” —Library Journal “A glowing, living tapestry This is storytelling at its finest” —The Philadelphia Inquirer “Full of swordplay, bawdy byplay, and derring-do, The Queen’s Man is a full-bodied historical romp, steeped in period detail.” —The Houston Chronicle Cruel as the Grave “Masterfully told… Penman’s authentic period details, larger-than-life characters and fast-paced plot add up to great reading for both mystery fans and history buffs.” —Booklist “Penman writes about the medieval world and its people with vigor, compassion, and clarity.” —San Francisco Chronicle “Penman’s lively, articulate prose brings to life history as it could have happened–high praise for a historical mystery.” —Houston Chronicle “Sharon Kay Penman tells her stories with passion and a strong sense of time and place.” —Margaret Frazer, author of the Sister Frevisse novels Dragon’s Lair “A pleasure to read.” —Publishers Weekly “A polished and absorbing historical mystery.” —Kirkus Prince of Darkness “Penman deftly weaves actual historical events into the narrative with nary a false note.” —Publishers Weekly “The historical detail is scrupulously accurate without being presented as a history lesson.” —Library Journal About this Series THE QUEEN’S MAN SERIES AD 1193 England lies uneasy, a land without a king Richard the Lionheart is feared drowned on his return from Crusade, his brother John conspires to usurp the crown On the throne, in the Lionheart’s stead, sits Eleanor of Aquitaine At seventy, Eleanor is the most powerful woman in Christendom, mother of both Richard and John and no stranger to the vicissitudes of royal family politics She is determined to prevent the outbreak of civil war, but at court treachery is endemic and there are few men she can trust Justin de Quincy is bastard-born son of the Aubrey de Quincy, Bishop of Chester The Bishop never acknowledged Justin, bestowing on the boy – in lieu of name or fortune – only an education As it happens, it is a gift that will make de Quincy a ‘Queen’s Man’ taking him to the very centre of power – and into the heart of danger Moving from the royal chambers in the Tower of London to the alehouses and stews of Southwark, from the horrors of Newgate Gaol to the bustling streets of Winchester, from to the mountains of Wales to the wild coasts of Brittany, de Quincy will prove his mettle – or find an early grave – as he uncovers the dark intrigues of Eleanor’s court I The Queen’s Man January 1193 De Quincy is charged by a dying man to deliver a bloodstained letter to the Queen and finds himself caught between two hunts: one for a killer, the other for the throne The Queen’s Man is available here II Cruel as the Grave April 1193 The murder of a young girl interferes with de Quincy’s mission to deliver a message to Count John, currently besieged in Windsor Castle Cruel as the Grave is available here III Dragon’s Lair July 1193 As the king languishes in an Austrian dungeon, a ransom payment goes missing in Wales, itself wracked by rebellion and intrigue Into this maelstrom, Eleanor sends her trusted man, Justin de Quincy Dragon’s Lair is available here IV Prince of Darkness December 1193 De Quincy must aid his former foe, the King’s brother John, and unravel a conspiracy that threatens to change the course of history Prince of Darkness is available here About the Author SHARON PENMAN is the author of eight critically acclaimed historical novels: The Sunne in Splendour, Here be Dragons, Falls the Shadow, The Reckoning, When Christ and his Saints Slept, Time and Chance, Devil’s Brood and Lionheart She has also written four medieval mysteries Her first, The Queen’s Man, was a finalist for an Edgar Award for Best First Mystery from the Mystery Writers of America Her other mysteries are Cruel as the Grave, Dragon’s Lair, and Prince of Darkness She lives in New Jersey A Letter from the Publisher We hope you enjoyed this book We are an independent publisher dedicated to discovering brilliant books, new authors and great storytelling Please join us at www.headofzeus.com and become part of our community of booklovers We will keep you up to date with our latest books, author blogs, special previews, tempting offers, chances to win signed editions and much more If you have any questions, feedback or just want to say hi, please drop us a line on hello@headofzeus.com @HoZ_Books HeadofZeusBooks The story starts here First published in the UK in 1996 by Michael Joseph Ltd, an imprint of the Penguin Group First published eBook in the UK in 2013 by Head of Zeus Ltd Copyright © Sharon Penman, 1996 The moral right of Sharon Penman to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988 All rights reserved No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book This is a work of fiction All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously 975312468 A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN (E) 9781781857045 Head of Zeus Ltd Clerkenwell House 45-47 Clerkenwell Green London EC1R 0HT www.headofzeus.com Contents Cover Welcome Page Dedication Chapter I: December 1192: The Bishop’s Palace, Chester, England Chapter II: January 1193: London Chapter III: January 1193: Winchester Chapter IV: January 1193: Tower of London Chapter V: January 1193: Winchester Chapter VI: January 1193: Winchester Chapter VII: January 1193: Winchester Chapter VIII: February 1193: Westminster Chapter IX: February 1193: London Chapter X: February 1193: London Chapter XI: February 1193: London Chapter XII: February 1193: London Chapter XIII: February 1193: London Chapter XIV: February 1193: London Chapter XV: February 1193: London Chapter XVI: March 1193: London Chapter XVII: March 1193: Gaol of London Chapter XVIII: March 1193: London Chapter XIX: March 1193: London Chapter XX: March 1193: Winchester Preview Author’s Note Acknowledgements About this Book Reviews About this Series About the Author An Invitation from the Publisher Copyright ... pirates The credulous speculated about sea-monsters But as the weeks went by, more and more of the missing king s subjects suspected that he was dead, must be dead And none willed it more passionately... called Aubrey was insisting, ‘that the king s brother must be planning to the Devil s work One of the sergeants at the castle says he heard that John is hiring men as fast as he can find them You two... Gervase, so sorry ’ The sound of his name seemed to rouse Gervase from his stupor His gaze wandered at first, then slowly focused upon Justin His chest heaved as he sought to draw air into his labouring