Related to the Predestination series of cosy Tudor historical fiction mystery stories
From Predestination: The Bloodstone of Boiorix: “Jack threw down the hand of cards he held and exclaimed, “How could you know that I held the Pope of Diamonds?” Gerolamo sighed, and started to explain his theory again, “I didn’t know Jack, it was just extremely likely given the total number of cards and the cards … Read more
From Proclamation: Poetry will be the death of me: “Thirty riders cantered along the bank beside the ditch, their horses’ breath hanging heavy in the chill air before it gradually dissipated into the never-ending mist. Their short capes fluttered behind them, but all else was still. As still as death. Even the trees hung limply, … Read more
From Resurrection: The Heresy of a Jesuit: “They plunged across the stream, man and horse in perfect harmony, galloping for their lives. His tattered and mud-splattered cape streamed behind him, and his breeches bore the scratches and rips that headlong flight through dense woodland had inflicted. And yet, his mind sang with exhilaration that approached … Read more
From Speculation: Undercurrents of Treachery: “In the twilight of Henry VIII’s reign, England’s treasury lay empty, drained by war with France and Scotland. The King’s solution was as simple as it was devastating: debase the silver coinage by mixing the precious metal with copper, creating more coins from the same weight of silver. What began … Read more
From Insurrection: Weddings can be murder: “Kat Arden shifted uncomfortably on her side-saddle as the grey palfrey picked its way up the stony path. An evening chill was developing, and she tried to burrow deeper into her woollen travelling cloak for extra warmth. Twitching the reins, she guided the horse past a leafless bush and … Read more
From Resurrection: The Heresy of a Jesuit: “They plunged across the stream, man and horse in perfect harmony, galloping for their lives. His tattered and mud-splattered cape streamed behind him, and his breeches bore the scratches and rips that headlong flight through dense woodland had inflicted. And yet, his mind sang with exhilaration that approached … Read more
From Divination: A Conspiracy of Blood: “The bruised Cambridge sky threatened to ruin the day of any students unlucky enough to venture outdoors. I’ll be glad when spring finally arrives, thought John Dee, as he hurried across Trinity College courtyard, his scholar’s gown billowing behind him like a sail. He was late, again, and this … Read more
