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MURDER
ON THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMAGE
by Mary Devlin
A medieval mystery in the tradition of Ellis Peters and Edward Marston, Murder on the Canterbury Pilgrimage casts noted poet Geoffrey Chaucer in the role of detective. Chaucer uses his keen insights into human nature, his experience as a spy, and his skills as an astrologer to track down who murdered the beautiful gypsy, Sophia, while on the road to the shrine of St. Thomas à Becket at Canterbury. Chaucer enlists the aid of his fellow pilgrims - one of whom must be the murderer.
"Great Fun! And a Good Read. . . .multiple murders, political intrigue, astrology, religious conflicts, power struggles and petty jealousies, love triangles, interesting characters, and a very satisfying solution, . . . If historical mysteries, such as Brother Cadfael, appeal to you, then you simply must give Mary Devlin a try. I think you'll be very pleasantly surprised. ***** " - Amazon.com
Prologue
Would it be wise to try to save the knife?
Shivering in the chill of a spring night, the cloaked figure glanced uneasily up at the full moon, then at the prone body beside him. The silver-handled Italian stiletto that protruded from the dead man's back had cost the assassin a small fortune, and he was unwilling to let it go.
He sighed. Why did he use it, anyway? Cheap daggers were readily available from any blacksmith in any village, and the purchase of one would have been all too easy. Well, it was too late to think of that now.
Tentatively the killer reached down and grasped the handle of the knife. God's bones, it was stuck tight in the man's body! To pull it out would undoubtedly release a gush of blood which would spatter all over the surrounding bushes, making it more obvious to any passerby that all was not as it should be.
There was no help for it. He would have to abandon the knife. He grasped his victim's ankles and dragged him into the brush, stopping momentarily to catch his breath. The spot was dangerously close to the road to Kent, but with a little luck anyone on his way from London to Kent would be too caught up in his own affairs to notice the few broken branches resulting from the concealment of the corpse. A man on horseback wouldn't notice it at all. A man on foot probably wouldn't - at least not until the body began to smell, and by that time the murderer would be safe in Canterbury.
He must report to the Archbishop: the messenger was dead. Their enemy would never know of their nefarious plans.
Carefully the killer pulled the branches of a nearby bush into such a position as to mask the presence of the dead man from anyone who might come that way. Then he recalled his error.
The Master's instructions had been very explicit: Let anyone who finds the body know what we think of heretics!
The murderer fumbled through his pockets until he found what he was looking for. He moved away from the trees so as to have better access to the moonlight and rifled through his pack of cards. Ah! There's a good one. The Goddess Fortuna, blindfolded, turning the Wheel of Fortune, so that one man was on his way up, one at the pinnacle, and one crashing onto the ground.
Pushing the branches aside, he dropped the card onto the body. It landed on the wound and stuck onto a puddle of blood. Good! It would not blow away.
He must reach Canterbury soon, but traveling alone, after leaving a dead body in his wake, was too dangerous. The Master had cautioned him that it would be best to travel to Canterbury from London, in the company of a large band of pilgrims. Frustration passed through his mind as he realized that such a band would probably pass close by here, and that returning to London to join one would only add a good fifty useless miles to his journey.
Nonetheless, caution was of the essence. Replacing the pack of cards in his pocket, the murderer turned his long nose toward London and literally ran down the road.
Perhaps returning to London was the wisest course, inconvenient though it might be. It would be wise to put as many miles as possible between him and his victim. The Master would not be pleased if anyone vaguely connected with him was implicated in murder.
He had to find his way to Canterbury as quickly as he possibly could.
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