The Lost Prophecies

Praise for The Medieval Murderers
‘Monks, mists, madness, taverns: the evocation of a strange but familiar Other Britain shrouded in time . . . A must for Historical Crime buffs and an ideal starting point for any reader new to the genre’ TANGLED WEB
‘The writers really know their stuff . . . A variety of backgrounds, from the Holy Land to Oxbridge and Saint Bartholomew’s Fair add to the colour and make this a truly entertaining historical
mystery’ GOOD BOOK GUIDE
‘If your taste is for well-written crime and well-written historical fiction, they are combined tantalisingly here’ CRIME TIME

Also by The Medieval Murderers
The Tainted Relic
Sword of Shame
House of Shadows

A Historical Mystery
By
The Medieval Murderers
Bernard Knight
Ian Morson
Michael Jecks
Philip Gooden
Susanna Gregory
C. J. Sansom

LONDON • NEW YORK • SYDNEY • TORONTO

First published in Great Britain by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd, 2008
This edition first published by Pocket Books, 2009
An imprint of Simon & Schuster UK
A CBS COMPANY

Copyright © The Medieval Murderers, 2008

This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.
No reproduction without permission.
® and © 1997 Simon & Schuster Inc. All rights reserved.
Pocket Books & Design is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster Inc.

The right of The Medieval Murderers to be identified as authors
of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78
of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

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A CIP catalogue record for this book is
available from the British Library

ISBN: 978-1-84739-900-7

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and
incidents are either a product of the author's imagination or are
used fictitiously.

Typeset by Rowland Phototypesetting Ltd,
Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk
Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Cox & Wyman Ltd,
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A small group of historical mystery writers, all members of the Crime Writers’ Association, who promote their work by giving informal talks and discussions at libraries, bookshops and literary festivals.

Bernard Knight
is a former Home Office pathologist and professor of forensic medicine who has been publishing novels, non-fiction, radio and television drama and documentaries for more than forty years. He currently writes the highly regarded Crowner John series of historical mysteries, based on the first coroner for Devon in the twelfth century; the thirteenth of which,
Crowner Royal
, has recently been published by Simon & Schuster.

Ian Morson
is the author of an acclaimed series of historical mysteries featuring the thirteenth-century Oxford-based detective, William Falconer, and a brand-new series featuring Venetian crime solver, Nick Zuliani, the first of which,
City of the Dead
, has recently been published.

Michael Jecks
was a computer salesman before turning to writing full time. His immensely popular Templar series, set during the confusion and terror of the reign of Edward II, is translated into most continental languages and is published in America. His most recent novels are
The Prophecy of Death
and, the 26th in the series,
The King of Thieves.
Michael was chairman of the Crime Writers’ Association in 2004–5 but balances that by Morris Dancing enthusiastically – and badly.

Philip Gooden
is the author of the Nick Revill series, a sequence of historical mysteries set in Elizabeth and Jacobean London, during the time of Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre. The latest titles are
Mask of Night
and
An Honourable Murder.
He also has written a 19th century murder mystery,
The Salisbury Manuscript.
Philip was chairman of the Crime Writers’ Association in 2007–8.

Susanna Gregory
is the author of the Matthew Bartholomew series of

mystery novels, set in fourteenth-century Cambridge, the most recent of which are
A Vein of Deceit
and
To Kill or Cure.
In addition, she writes a series set in Restoration London, featuring Thomas Chaloner; the most recent book is
The Westminster Poisoner.
She also writes historical mysteries under the name of ‘Simon Beaufort’.

C. J. Sansom
is the author of the bestselling Matthew Shardlake series, set during the reign of Henry VIII. The most recent titles are
Revelation, Sovereign
and
Dark Fire.
He is also the author of
Winter in Madrid
, a historical thriller set in 1940s Spain.

Prologue
– In which Bernard Knight lays the foundation for the murderous tales that follow.

Act One
– In which Bernard Knight’s Crowner John confounds a band of treasure-hunters.

Act Two
– In which Ian Morson’s Nick Zuliani dices with death in a Russian blizzard.

Act Three
– In which Michael Jecks’ Keeper Sir Baldwin and Bailiff Puttock investigate murder most foul in the abbey crypt.

Act Four
– In which Susanna Gregory’s Matthew Bartholomew and Brother Michael become embroiled in a bloodthirsty college feud.

Act Five
– In which Philip Gooden’s player Nick Revill receives a letter from a mysterious uncle.

Act Six
– In which C. J. Sansom confronts the Day of Judgment.

In the early-morning light, the fisherman Guleesh ventured nervously from his hut above Banna Strand in the Bay of Ballyheigue. His wife watched him from the door-hole, one arm around her little daughter, the other holding a hand to her mouth in breathless anxiety.

All Souls’ Night had been full of omens, starting with a huge ring around a ruddy moon. When the orb had set, flickering curtains of green light weaved eerily in the sky to the north, rarely seen except as portents of some great disaster. As if this was not enough, silent lightning flashed for the rest of the night, unsettling the dogs and making them howl in company with a vixen that barked in the woods above the beach.

Now, thankfully, the dawn seemed quiet, with not a breath of wind. The sea lapped innocently along the miles of sand that faced the great western ocean that stretched out to the edge of the world. But this virgin strand was broken by a black dot at the water’s edge, directly below their mean dwelling.

It was this that had eventually enticed the reluctant Guleesh out of his house. With the tide only just turned from the ebb, he walked cautiously down across the wide expanse of sand, his bare feet marking the pristine surface as he went. His thin, careworn woman watched him as he reached what they both had thought was a coracle. All kinds of flotsam ended up on their beach and, if it were not for the eerie signs in the heavens the previous night, it would have caused none of these premonitions of unearthly happenings.

She saw Guleesh reach the object as it rocked gently on every new wavelet that hissed up the beach. He bent to peer inside, then straightened up and began waving to her like a man possessed, his arm beckoning her to come.

Commanding her daughter to stay by the cradle with her brother, a lusty boy of two months, the wife Deirdre ran down the line of her husband’s footprints, looking ahead uneasily at the strange lines of grey cloud that hung over the sea, where the Seven Hogs of the Magharee Islands broke the horizon. A dozen large jet-black ravens suddenly dropped from high in the sky and wheeled in a circle close over her head, cawing at her to hasten. As she came to the surf, which barely washed above her ankles, she saw that it was indeed a common coracle, a round tub of greased hides stretched over a wicker frame.

‘Look, wife, look inside!’ keened Guleesh, his voice taut with awe, as he lifted aside a rough-spun blanket. Deirdre steadied the rocking craft with one hand and looked down, her eyes round with wonder, as the guardian ravens strutted behind them.

Nestled on the blanket was a naked boy-baby, still with a few inches of birth-cord attached to his navel. Motherly compassion banished all fear, and she lifted the infant in his shawl and put him to her full breast. As she crooned into his ear while he sucked greedily, there was a long, low rumble of approving thunder from over the horizon and a single large wave came to speed the coracle up the beach.

‘What is to become of him, Father Conan?’ The abbot’s voice was weary with despair as he contemplated the problem that had beset them now for the past eight months.

The aged bishop shook his head sadly. ‘The High Council feels that there is only one solution, Brother Alither. He has been chained now for a dozen weeks. It would be kinder to return him whence he came, rather than to leave him like this until he is claimed by God – or the devil!’

Alither, the abbot of Clonmacnois, shuddered at the prospect and tears appeared in his eyes, running down the grooves in his lined face. ‘But the man is but thirty-three years old, the same as Christ at his Passion!’ he groaned. ‘He has lived here almost all his life, since he was brought here as a mere babe.’

Conan shrugged, not without compassion but bowing to the inevitability of God’s will. ‘The High Council considers that he is possessed, and I cannot say that I disagree with them, though I have never actually set my eyes upon him.’

Alither shook his head in bewilderment. ‘You must see him for yourself; he is most comely. Apart from his affliction, he is perfectly sound in wind and limb.’

‘But it is not his earthly body that concerns us, brother. It is his mind and his soul, if he has one!’