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    The Man in the Snow: A John Shakespeare Novella
    The Man in the Snow: A John Shakespeare Novella
    The Man in the Snow: A John Shakespeare Novella
    Ebook86 pages1 hour

    The Man in the Snow: A John Shakespeare Novella

    By Rory Clements

    4/5

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    About this ebook

    A riveting novella set in Elizabethan England—perfect for fans of C. J. Sansom and The Tudors.

    Just a few days before Christmas, a reluctant John Shakespeare—brother of a rising playwright—answers a plea for help from Joshua Peace, Searcher of the Dead, but he has no idea the kind of menace he will face. A naked man has been found in a snowdrift, a wreath of holly crowning his head and a bullet in his back.

    As all around him prepare for the festive season, Shakespeare must unravel a complex plot of passion and treachery and confront a cold-blooded murderer who will not hesitate to kill again.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins
    Release dateDec 10, 2013
    ISBN9780062301895
    The Man in the Snow: A John Shakespeare Novella
    Author

    Rory Clements

    After a career in national newspapers, Rory Clements now lives in a seventeenth-century farmhouse in Norfolk and writes full time. When not immersing himself in the Elizabethan world, he enjoys village life and a game of tennis with friends. He is married to the artist Naomi Clements-Wright. There are five books in the John Shakespeare series of Elizabethan mysteries: Martyr, which was shortlisted for the CWA John Creasey Award; Revenger, which won the 2010 CWA Ellis Peters Historical Fiction Award; Prince, which was shortlisted for the 2011 Ellis Peters Historical Fiction Award; Traitor; and Monarch. All are published by John Murray. A TV series based on the books is currently in development. You can find out more about Rory, his writing and the world of John Shakespeare on his website www.roryclements.com and at www.johnmurray.co.uk.

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    Reviews for The Man in the Snow

    4/5

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    • 5/5
      This is a Christmas novella in the author's series of Elizabethan whodunnits featuring the intelligencer John Shakespeare, fictional brother of the playwright. While obviously less intricate than the full blown novels, the plot works really well in this context. The body of a black man is discovered frozen in the snow just before Christmas; he was a member of the household of the Earl of Oxford. Needless to say, all is not as it seems, and the usual connections to spying and treachery are there to be uncovered by John Shakespeare and his trusty assistant Boltfoot Cooper. There is also an interesting array of colourful characters made believable despite the short format. A real gem and I actually enjoyed this more than many of the full length novels.
    • 4/5
      A few days before Christmas 1595 Joshua Peace, Searcher of the Dead is given a body. He turns to John Shakespeare to help identify and locate the murderer. Shakespeare's investigation leads to the Earl of Oxford, one time favourite of the Queen.
      An enjoyable short mystery story
    • 4/5
      The Man in the Snow, A John Shakespeare Novella by Rory Clements is an e-book for today. Actually, it's merely set during Christmas. It begins with John writing to his parents that he is unable to get home for the holiday because he is busy with work as Chief Intelligencer for Sir Robert Cecil. He is Will Shakespeare's older brother. Stratford-upon-Avon is 100 miles away.An old friend, Joshua Peace, arrives at John's comfortable home and they sit down with brandy to warm him. He has come because as Searcher of the Dead, he has the corpse of a black man who was shot in the back. The justice and the sheriff won't do anything about it, so he has come to ask John to find out who killed him and bring the murderer to justice.Travel is difficult because of heavy snow. When the two men near London, they see gangs of men shoveling snow from the roads. All Peace knows is that the body was found just outside the city frozen solid. Can't determine time of death but assumes it was within the past three weeks. To his surprise, John recognizes the man. He is Giovanni Jesu from Venice who works for the Earl of Oxford. He remembered him from years ago because Jesu was such a perfection of human form. His skin was a glowing shade of light brown.Solving the mystery involves a stay in the household of the Earl who is a drunkard, and his wife, a lovely and admirable lady. He finds that Jesu has fathered a child with one of the maidservants in the house. There are many suspects and no one talking due to fear or loyalty. John's servant, Boltfoot Cooper (who has a clubfoot) returns to London to further the investigation there.The characters in this story set in the late 1500s are a motley lot. Figuring out who to trust is half the case, and then ferreting out motives is even more difficult. It has the air of genuine research behind the story. I learned quite a bit about the life in those days. It all held my interest, and I loved John Shakespeare.Highly recommended quick readSource: publisher - Witness/Impulse Imprint, HarperCollins
    • 4/5
      A unidentified naked man has been found dead in the snow. The sheriff seems to want to rush the investigation. Joshua Peace, examiner of the dead, goes to John Shakespeare to ensure an investigation is done.This episode seems a little more formal than previous episodes, but it still contains the same engaging and witty characters as they continue with their lives and murder investigations. Historical accuracy appears present throughout the narrative, along with rich descriptions of places and people.Overall, a fun read.

    Book preview

    The Man in the Snow - Rory Clements

    Chapter One

    John Shakespeare sat at his table, huddled into his padded doublet. Behind him, the fire in the hearth crackled and roared but could not compete with the cold air that blasted in off the river and howled through the gaps in the leaded windows. A wind as cold as death. He dipped his quill into the horn and wondered briefly whether, even here indoors, it were possible for ink to freeze solid.

    He had been putting off writing this letter. With Christmas only two days away, he could delay no longer.

    His parents would prefer his presence, of course, but there was no hope of that this year. Threats to the safety of the realm were multiplying. As Sir Robert Cecil’s chief intelligencer he could not leave his post even on holy days. And then there was this weather: thick snow carpeted the land so that travelling any distance was impossible. Even the best riders would not manage the hundred-mile highway to Stratford-upon-Avon in such conditions. A letter would have to suffice and the courier would have to deliver it as and when he could.

    Sitting back from the table, he looked at what he had written: news of the girls, Mary and Grace, both thriving in health and their lessons. He was about to move on to his adopted son, Andrew, when there was a knock at the door and Boltfoot Cooper limped into the room, his club-foot scraping across the rush-matted boards.

    ‘Mr Peace is here to see you, master.’

    Peace? A visit from Joshua Peace was a rare event indeed. Rare, but most welcome. ‘Bring him in, Boltfoot, and ask Jane to fetch us brandy, if you would.’

    He put down his quill and rubbed the wet ink from his hands on the rag he kept at the side of the table as Boltfoot ushered Peace in.

    ‘Well met, Joshua. Are you hail?’ Shakespeare took his old friend’s icy hand, then embraced him, struck by how gaunt and ill at ease he appeared.

    ‘As well as any of God’s creatures in this bleakest of winters, John. I swear the cold would freeze a man’s very soul.’

    ‘Well, take brandy with me. You will find some warmth there.’

    Peace managed a faint smile. ‘Brandy indeed. Yes, that is what a man needs. If not to warm him, then at least to numb the pain in the long, dark nights.’

    ‘So have you come to cheer me up, to drink and make merry? Are we to go wassailing?’

    ‘You make jest of me.’ Peace took off his ice-coated felt hat and ran his hand across the smooth peak of his pate. His hair was nothing but a rim around the edges, a pauper’s crown. ‘Forgive me. It is getting to me.’

    ‘Then I shall have to cheer you. Let us trudge through the snow to the Old Swan and sink into mellow oblivion together.’

    ‘No, John. I have no temper for the company of strangers. Let them carouse without me. Work and sleep are my lot this season.’

    Shakespeare’s maidservant, Jane, appeared with a salver holding a flagon of brandy and two goblets. He poured two large measures of the spirit and handed one to Peace.

    ‘Then what has brought you here?’

    ‘I have care of a corpse that I wish you to look at. In truth I am at a loss as to what to do with it.’

    ‘Is there foul play?’

    ‘Most certainly. The man has been shot in the back.’

    ‘Then it must be a matter for the justice and the sheriff.’

    ‘They are not interested.’

    ‘The justice is not interested in murder? In God’s name, why not?’

    ‘The victim is an Ethiop. They presume him to be either slave or deckhand from some foreign vessel. No one cares enough to inquire into his death. Anyway, they are all too preoccupied with the prospect of feasting.’

    Shakespeare wished he were surprised by the reaction, but nonetheless murder was murder, whoever the victim.‘How did he come to be entrusted to you?’

    ‘The watch brought him to me. They had no idea what to do with the body and said they did not want to bury a heathen in hallowed ground.’

    ‘A shameful business.’

    ‘Indeed it is. One of those who brought him to me suggested he was shot escaping, another that he hadn’t paid some quent merchant for use of his whore. Either way, they said, he had got his deserts.’

    ‘Drink your brandy, Joshua, and we will see.’

    The stone walls of the crypt beneath St Paul’s dripped with water. The cacophonous sounds of teeming commerce above were muted here. This was where Joshua Peace worked alone as Searcher of the Dead.

    Shakespeare was a tall man and his long hair hung about his face as he stared down at the mound on the trestle table. It was covered in a stained sheet that had once been white. Peace pulled back the covering to reveal the corpse, which lay face down, showing the wound.

    Even in death, the skin had a wonderful, dark sheen, its beauty cruelly marred by a hole in the middle of the back, just beneath the delicate arc of the shoulder blades.

    ‘Could his death have been an accident?’ Shakespeare asked.

    ‘Look more closely, John. See the scorch marks around the entry wound. That tells me he was shot at close range. Most likely with a dag. This was murder.’

    ‘A dag?’ It was not that easy to get hold of a wheel-lock pistol. Such weapons were costly. Shakespeare sniffed the air. ‘How long has he been dead?’

    ‘You notice the absence of stench.’

    ‘Which must mean the death is recent.’

    ‘No, not in this case. The body was found beneath a drift of snow, somewhere close to Bishopsgate, just outside the city wall. It had frozen solid. The bitter cold has delayed putrefaction. In truth, I cannot give you a time of death, except to say that it occurred some time in the past three weeks, since the snows came.’

    Shakespeare reached forward and touched the skin. It was so luminous and bright, he half expected

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