A Play of Heresy Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Author’s Note

  Berkley Prime Crime titles by Margaret Frazer

  The Middle Ages Come to Life . . . to Bring Us Murder.

  A PLAY OF PIETY

  “[A Play of Piety] entranced me just as her books about Dame Frevisse did . . . This book abounds in authentic detail and intriguing, vividly fleshed-out characters. It gave me a sense of being carried back to medieval times. The precarious existence of traveling performers is realistically portrayed, and Joliffe is an engaging and resourceful protagonist. Without being archaic, the dialogue somehow rings true. The plot builds to a satisfying ending. All in all, this is a superb historical mystery.”

  —Historical Novel Society (Editors’ Choice 2011)

  “Margaret Frazer depicts the Middle Ages with such ease; there is nothing awkward about the setting or speech of the characters, giving an overall familiar feel and a strong sense of place.”

  —The Mystery Reader

  A PLAY OF LORDS

  “Will entertain and confound you with its intricately plotted mystery and richly detailed writing . . . Ms. Frazer knows the fifteenth century and it shows . . . You’ll want to rush out and get the previous books in this wonderful series.”

  —The Romance Readers Connection

  “[An] amazing wealth of historical detail. While the mystery is compelling, and rooted in a fascinating historical period, it’s the details of everyday life that make the story and characters leap off the page . . . Will appeal to readers who enjoy historical mystery and historical fiction.”

  —CA Reviews

  A PLAY OF DUX MORAUD

  “Deftly drawn characters acting in a stage of intricate and accurate details of medieval life.”

  —Affaire de Coeur

  “A meticulously researched, well-written historical mystery that brings to life a bygone era . . . Historical mystery fans will love this series.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “Wonderful . . . As always, the author provides a treasure trove of historical detail . . . Good, solid mystery.”

  —The Romance Readers Connection

  A PLAY OF ISAAC

  “In the course of the book, we learn a great deal about theatrical customs of the fifteenth century . . . In the hands of a lesser writer, it could seem preachy; for Frazer, it is another element in a rich tapestry.”

  —Contra Costa Times

  “Careful research and a profusion of details, especially those dealing with staging a fifteenth-century miracle play, bring the sights, smells, and sounds of the era directly to the reader’s senses.”

  —Roundtable Reviews

  “A terrific historical whodunit that will please amateur sleuth and historical mystery fans.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  Praise for the Dame Frevisse Medieval Mysteries by two-time Edgar® Award–nominee Margaret Frazer

  “An exceptionally strong series . . . full of the richness of the fifteenth century, handled with the care it deserves.”

  —Minneapolis Star Tribune

  THE SEMPSTER’S TALE

  “What Frazer, a meticulous researcher, gets absolutely right in The Sempster’s Tale are the attitudes of the characters.”

  —Detroit Free Press

  THE WIDOW’S TALE

  “Action packed . . . A terrific protagonist.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  THE HUNTER’S TALE

  “Will please both Frevisse aficionados and historical mystery readers new to the series.”

  —Booklist

  THE BASTARD’S TALE

  “Anyone who values high historical drama will feel amply rewarded . . . Of note is the poignant and amusing relationship between Joliffe and Dame Frevisse.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  THE CLERK’S TALE

  “As usual, Frazer vividly re-creates the medieval world through meticulous historical detail [and] remarkable scholarship.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  THE SQUIRE’S TALE

  “Meticulous detail that speaks of trustworthy scholarship and a sympathetic imagination.”

  —The New York Times

  THE REEVE’S TALE

  “A brilliantly realized vision of a typical medieval English village.”

  —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  THE MAIDEN’S TALE

  “Great fun for all lovers of history with their mystery.”

  —Minneapolis Star Tribune

  THE PRIORESS’ TALE

  “Will delight history buffs and mystery fans alike.”

  —Murder Ink

  THE MURDERER’S TALE

  “The period detail is lavish, and the characters are full-blooded.”

  —Minneapolis Star Tribune

  THE BOY’S TALE

  “This fast-paced historical mystery comes complete with a surprise ending—one that will hopefully lead to another ‘Tale’ of mystery and intrigue.”

  —Affaire de Coeur

  THE BISHOP’S TALE

  “Some truly shocking scenes and psychological twists.”

  —Mystery Loves Company

  THE OUTLAW’S TALE

  “A tale well told, filled with intrigue and spiced with romance and rogues.”

  —School Library Journal

  THE SERVANT’S TALE

  “Very authentic . . . The essence of a truly historical story is that the people should feel and believe according to their times. Margaret Frazer has accomplished this extraordinarily well.”

  —Anne Perry

  THE NOVICE’S TALE

  “Frazer uses her extensive knowledge of the period to create an unusual plot . . . appealing characters and crisp writing.”

  —Los Angeles Times

  Berkley Prime Crime titles by Margaret Frazer

  Joliffe the Player Mysteries

  A PLAY OF ISAAC

  A PLAY OF DUX MORAUD

  A PLAY OF KNAVES

  A PLAY OF LORDS

  A PLAY OF TREACHERY

  A PLAY OF PIETY

  A PLAY OF HERESY

  Dame Frevisse Medieval Mysteries

  THE NOVICE’S TALE

  THE SERVANT’S TALE

  THE OUTLAW’S TALE

  THE BISHOP’S TALE

  THE BOY’S TALE

  THE MURDERER’S TALE

  THE PRIORESS’ TALE

  THE MAIDEN’S TALE

  THE REEVE’S TALE

  THE SQUIRE’S TALE

  THE CLERK’S TALE

  THE BASTARD’S TALE

  THE HUNTER’S TALE

  THE WIDOW’S TALE

  THE SEMPSTER’S TALE

  THE TRAITOR’S TALE

  THE APOSTATE’S TALE

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

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  (a d
ivision of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright © 2011 by Gail Frazer.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions. BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Frazer, Margaret.

  p. cm.

  ISBN : 978-1-101-55282-7

  1. Joliffe (Fictitious character : Frazer)—Fiction. 2. Actors—England—Fiction. 3. Lollards—Fiction. 4. Murder—Fiction. 5. Coventry Corpus Christi plays—Fiction. 6. Coventry (England)—History—Fiction. 7. Great Britain—History—Henry VI, 1422–1461—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3556.R3586P54 2011

  813’.54—dc22

  2011032141

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  Dedicated to Justin and Sarah and Seth and Preeti—

  the doers and watchers of theater in my family.

  And to Deb Murphy,

  who shared in the excitement of watching

  the twenty-three pageants

  of the Chester Cycle those three days in May.

  Chapter 1

  The day was dove gray, soft under low clouds, with the rain mist-gentle on Joliffe’s face and beading silver on his horse’s dark mane. His cloak was a long way yet from soaking through nor had he troubled to pull up his hood; the rain felt good against his face. Too, he judged by blue patches of sky showing in the east that clearing weather was on the way and there would likely be sun enough to dry his hair and cloak well before he came to Coventry, especially since he was making no hurry of his going.

  After a month of doing much, he was enjoying just now not having to do anything in particular. He would get to Coventry when he got to Coventry. There he would soon be doing much and more, and so was content in this while to be simply riding, with England at peace and in plenty around him. For such as worked the land, these were the year’s gentle days. The spring’s hard work of plowing and planting was past; the summer’s hard work of haying and sheep-shearing yet to come. This year even the weather was kindly, with sun and rain in their proper proportions and sufficiency, and all the mingled greens of hedges, meadows, trees, and fields were at their fullest, the yellows, blues, and sudden reds of wild-growing summer flowers in the long wayside grasses at their gayest. In the hotter days toward harvest time, the greens would weary, the flowers fade under wayside dust, but for now the world and all were burgeoned new and full of promises.

  Some of which promises might even be kept, Joliffe thought. Then, if only briefly, he was ashamed of so unthankful a thought. He had nothing to be unthankful for. Or not much anyway. The bruised ribs were nearly well, and he would be in Coventry before nightfall, with work and his fellow players waiting for him there, ready to tell him how everything had been going with them these few weeks he had been wandering England’s middle counties, seeming a minstrel for the sake of learning things his worship the Cardinal Bishop of Winchester wanted to know. That his skills at singing and the lute were moderate at the best meant he had not greatly prospered as a minstrel. On the other hand, he had learned interesting things enough among the lords and gentry of Warwickshire and other parts to please my lord of Winchester. Please but not satisfy; my lord of Winchester was not a man easily satisfied when it came to knowing things.

  That—among other matters—Joliffe had learned these past two years and somewhat more since coming into the bishop’s service. Still, for this while, he was done with serving the bishop in matters subtle. He had already passed along to someone else what he had learned and in Coventry would need to be simply a player. Or not so simply. There was nothing simple about the dozen and more plays that would be played through the town’s streets in a few weeks time. They were played every year at Corpus Christi to show the citizens’ great piety and (not at all by chance) to their great profit, because hundreds of outside folk came, both for the holy procession before and the plays themselves. This year of 1438, the sixteenth of the reign of King Henry VI, would surely be no different, except that this year Thomas Basset’s company of players, Joliffe among them, was to be part of it all. To their own great profit, Joliffe trusted.

  The horse and he were come to Warwick where his way met and crossed the high road that, southward, went by way of Gloucester to Bristol, while northward it would take him by way of Kenilworth to Coventry. Today not being a market day, there was no more than an ordinary scattering of people going about their business as he rode into the marketplace around the cross atop a deeply carved tower of pinnacled stone rising from three stone steps. The rain had stopped, and Joliffe thought he would, too, there being a tavern with a fresh ale-bush on the pole above its door. The ale proved to be good, and so was the small meat pie he had with it, but he stayed only for a single bowl of the ale and finished eating the pie as he rode out of town, minded that even though he need not make haste, he did need to keep steadily on to be in Coventry by day’s end.

  His first certainty that this simple plan was not going to go so simply came a few miles out of Warwick, at a crossroads where a tall wooden crucifix stood on a single stone step in the middle of the way. On the step a rat-faced man with straggling hair pushed back of his ears was sitting at his ease, leaned forward with his crossed arms on his knees, a tall staff in the crook of one arm and propped against a shoulder. He had all the look of someone who had been walking and was stopped here to rest, but he straightened as Joliffe neared him, and Joliffe, drawing rein a few yards from the cross but not dismounting, said, more surprised than unwelcoming, “Sebastian. What are you doing here?”

  “Waiting for you, surely.” When he did not choose to curb it, there was a slight Welsh lift to his voice.

  “You knew I’d be coming this way and today?” Joliffe said, then caught up to himself. “No. You saw me in Warwick just now.”

  Sebastian’s smile unfortunately tended to be a lifting of the front of his upper lip, increasing his likeness to a rat. It lifted now before he answered, “Aye. But you didn’t see me, did you?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “That’s because you weren’t looking. You’ve been taught better than that.”

  Given that it was Sebastian who had taught him, yes, Joliffe had been taught better than that. Never come or go from a place without noting everyone and everything there was to see, on the chance that there might be something or someone that ought to be seen, and if you could go unnoted yourself, all the better. Today Joliffe just had not cared, and he let the justified chide go by and instead asked,
seeing no sign of pilgrimage on Sebastian’s hat or elsewhere to serve for excuse of travel, “So where are you bound that brings you here?”

  Sebastian’s face fell into lines of grieving worry. “There’s my brother ill. I’ve hope to see him one time more before he dies.”

  Since Sebastian had a wide array of putative relatives always on the point of death when he needed to be somewhere other than he was and, for one reason or another, a claim of pilgrimage would not suit, Joliffe was unmoved, certain the imagined brother would live to die another day when need be. He was equally certain that Sebastian would not have troubled to meet him here without reason, and dryly and distrustfully, he asked, “Where’s your brother dying?”