Feast for the Ravens (Bradecote & Catchpoll)
England, 1145. Two young boys discover the corpse of a Knight Templar in the woods near their Worcestershire home; the lads’ testimony reaffirms the local legend of a malign, shape-shifting, woodsy, raven-woman. The soldier’s identity is a mystery, as is his death, so the shire’s investigating team is summoned: think marshal, sheriff and deputy of the Wild West country. The relationship between these three ‘detectives’ is finely told as they follow a convoluted trail of deception, journeying around the county questioning all manner of folk from high-born to lowly, with more verbal than actual jousting, to close in on the truth.
Not an intellectual triumph, nor possibly intended as such; nevertheless, this tale well illustrates the intrigues and inner workings of 12th-century privileged landowners’ lives and hierarchies, with many a ‘de’ surname prefix reflecting the recent French/Norman influence. However, my own enjoyment was somewhat hampered by the liberal use of stylised, faux-medieval dialogue, e.g., “He died ‘cos the Hrafn Wif wanted ‘is eyes for breakin’ ‘er fast” or, “Pity it be that ‘e should be otherwhere this day”, which also seeps into the narrative. We all know it’s the 12th century and we’re not expecting authentic pre-Chaucerian talk, so why not just use plain English? – q.v. Val McDermid’s Queen Macbeth, set in the same era. That said, if you don’t mind Olde Englysshe local-yokel-type grammar, then this competent murder-mystery caper could be right up your byway.
