A Roger the Chapman Mystery; England, 1480
[As promised yesterday, The Burgundian’s Tale, the story in which Duke Richard, soon-to-be King Richard III, does figure prominently.]
By mid-May of 1480, “the relationship between my wife and myself was at breaking point,” Roger the Chapman tells us, and he decides to set out once more on his travels, in search of “long spring days of quiet and solitude … walking knee-high through early morning mist and listening to lark song …”
But such is not to be. His old nemesis, Timothy Plummer reappears and informs him that Duke Richard requires his services in London, where one Fulk Quantrell (the Burgundian of the title) has been murdered. Who was Fulk Quantrell, demands Roger, and why is his demise so important? Fulk was the favourite of Princess Margaret, Dowager Duchess of Burgundy and sister of King Edward IV and Duke Richard: the Princess is at present in London on a state visit and the mystery must be solved before the visit is over.
Roger has no choice.
In London, he meets Duke Richard, who treats him as an old friend – and skilfully palms an assistant off on him, a young household officer named Bertram. A spy? Roger, who prefers to work alone, doesn’t know, but he is not impressed.
Their adventures in London remind one of Doherty’s London narratives; indeed her whole take on medieval London is reminiscent of his, including the typical medieval outsiders: beggars; pimps; prostitutes; a young male prostitute. Also like Doherty, Kate Sedley tends not to let her own – or the reader’s – mind wander, but to concentrate on the matter in hand, the investigation. Slowly, we sort out the perhaps rather-too-many members of Fulk’s family and begin to remember them and recognise them when they reappear, and to speculate which one of them might have dunnit.
I like Roger Chapman. A true hero, he is always reluctant, at least at first, to get involved, and he is a refreshing change from all the religious investigators that have sprung up in the wake of Brother Cadfael. I like the overtly sexy women he always finds himself up against. And I admire the way Kate Sedley builds the drama up for future books. How about this?
[Richard is speaking] ‘You’ll come and see me at Baynard’s Castle before you return to Bristol, I hope.’
I did, of course. As I have observed so often in the past, royalty’s hopes are tantamount to commands. Also present at our meeting was that ebulliant young man, the Earl of Lincoln, who threw his arms around my neck and hailed me as a genius. This extravagant and wholly undeserved praise was somewhat tempered by the discovery that Lincoln had had a substantial wager with his father, the Duke of Suffolk, that I would unravel the mystery within seven days, and could now claim his prize.
Nevertheless, I could not doubt that his admiration was genuine, and he assured me several times that he would not forget me. I groaned inwardly. I would much have preferred a life untrammelled by the esteem of princes, who were in the habit of regarding my time as their own. It was bad enough that the volatile Duke of Albany remembered me with gratitude, let alone having young Lincoln thinking of me very time he needed a mystery solved.
But there was nothing I could do about it.
All perfectly phrased, and leaving you impatient for that next book, that next encounter between the pedlar and the princes – all in the sure and certain knowledge that during the coming five years Edward IV will die, Richard will succeed him on the throne, Edward’s sons will disappear from the Tower, and Richard will be defeated by Henry Tudor at the Battle of Bosworth – marking the end of the Wars of the Roses and indeed the end of the medieval period.
What part did our Roger play in all that?