The Third in the “Joliffe” series of Medieval Mysteries
England, the spring of 1435
He stopped at a gate into a ploughed field softly green with young shoots of grain. A lapwing was crying pee-wit from somewhere, but that was the only sound, and he bent and picked a small daisy out of the grass and chewed on its stalk for its sharp taste, leaning on the gate and gazing up at the White Horse on its hillside. Yesterday at this hour Medcote had been alive and now he wasn’t. That Medcote wasn’t a man to be mourned was beside the matter. Living and dying were a mystery deeper than any one man’s murder.
A man or woman lived and then they did not and mankind fumbled on its way and still there was the Horse, lifetimes old, in its flaring gallop across the hillside, its being a mystery among other mysteries.
Why had Medcote been such a curse toward everyone? […] Had he thought the power to make folk miserable was a greater power than to play fair with them? That was a mistake common to small-witted people – to think good was a weaker thing than evil. From all that Joliffe had see, evil – in both its greater ways and in such petty ones as bullying – was the weak man’s way, taking a fool’s pleasuer in his strength to destroy. To destroy was easy. To create was hard. And solid goodness to others was harder still, with maybe the hardest thing being to stand strong in the good against the anger and force of those who understood only ugliness and destruction. Against people like Medcote.
And like whoever had killed him.
Joliffe pushed back from the gate and went on toward the players’ camp, hungry for whatever was for dinner and ready to be away from his thoughts for a while.
In the third in this new series of books by Margaret Frazer, Master Bassett’s wandering players, now known as Lord Lovell’s Men, travel to the village of Ashewell, in the vale beneath the Uffington White Horse – to perform, but also to investigate, on behalf of Lady Lovell, an undercurrent of trouble in the area that no one has yet been able to put their finger on or do anything about.
And of course, among the players it is Dame Frevisse’s friend Joliffe who is the sleuth.
Three families, the Ashewells, the Medcotes and the Gosyns, are at loggerheads. An accidental killing by a young boy has never been forgiven ot forgotten. Now, in addition to that, young people are being forced into marriage with those they hate.
Then the first murder is committed – near the field where the players are camped. Of course, suspicion falls on them. To a lazy “crowner”, they would be convenient scapegoats. And while Joliffe is investigating, desperately trying to clear himself and the other players, a second murder occurs.
A little slow perhaps, sometimes, but that is not a problem when you enjoy the world and the company as much as I do these books. As always, her characters, both major and minor, are better than most, and the author’s in-depth knowledge of the period frequently leaves me with my mouth open. I am happy just to go on turning the pages, am always sorry when one of her books comes to an end.
But I want to quote a paragraph from the Author’s Note which I found very much to the point and in need of saying. By the late Middle Ages […] the feudal system still existed but no longer had the stranglehold on society that it had had even two hundred years before. Times do change. Think how different the lives we lead now are from those of two hundred years before our present time, and how different those times were from two hundred years before then. The Middle Ages were not a monolith that clunked down upon Europe with the fall of Rome and lasted like a solid, witless lump until the Renaissance arrived to Make Everything Better. There was change and growth, experiments in government and thought and religion that made the Renaissance possible.