For lovers of CJ Sansom and SJ Parris, Holy Spy beneficial properties the Queen’s Intelligencer John Shakespeare within the most modern of Rory Clements’s acclaimed and bestselling sequence of Tudor secret agent thrillers
In London’s smoky taverns, a conspiracy is brewing: a gaggle of rich younger Catholic dissidents plot to assassinate Elizabeth, unfastened Mary Queen of Scots—and open England to Spanish invasion. however the conspirators were infiltrated via Sir Francis Walsingham’s most sensible intelligencer, John Shakespeare.
Shakespeare, although, is torn: the lady he loves stands accused of homicide. In a determined race opposed to time he needs to store her from the noose and the area from treachery. after which it dawns that either investigations are inextricably linked—by corruption very just about the seat of power…
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Additional info for Holy Spy: A John Shakespeare Mystery
Perhaps he might seize them either and allow them to dance their final jigs jointly. Shakespeare, too. Now that might make an excellent spectacle for the great folks of London city. within the pigsty, Boltfoot were assailed via the stench of dung. Now all he may odor used to be fish; fish extra putrid and loathsome than whatever he had ever smelt in all his years at sea. He was once on a boat of a few style and that used to be all he knew, for they'd introduced him through evening, hooded. while the hood was once got rid of, he had stuck a glimpse of masts and rigging, stark opposed to the moon, sooner than they decreased him into the carry and closed the hatch. It was once pitch darkish down right here. He moved round at will, for he was once now not certain, however the hatchway was once bolted from above. despite the passing of the hours the gloom didn't lighten, yet he speedy chanced on that his merely partners within the stinking mobile have been barrels, a few filled with salted fish and meat, yet many extra empty. The lapping of the waves and the stench of the fish advised him every thing and not anything. after which he heard the favourite shouts of a ship’s grasp ordering the mooring traces solid away and the sails unfurled, and he felt the altering movement of the vessel because it grew to become from landward to seaward with the emerging breeze and ebbing tide, and his center sank. He guessed he has to be within the tidal reaches of the Thames, heading downriver in the direction of the estuary, after which the ocean. It used to be changing into horribly transparent; from the stench of the fish and the wallowing and the creaking of heavy timbers, he was once evidently aboard a fishing vessel big enough to go for the deep seas of the north. All ships carried salted fish, however the overpowering odor during this carry informed him that fish was once not just carried yet salted the following. the sort of vessel can be headed anyplace – the slim seas, the German Bight, the a ways north and Iceland. might that be the place they dropped him, as nutrition for the fishes? The sailor’s worst nightmare. And now he wouldn't be capable to inform his grasp that may Cane, the fellow who killed Nicholas Giltspur, have been carrying out an amorous liaison with a lady named Abigail, maidservant to Giltspur’s widow, Kat Whetstone. used to be this the intelligence which could keep Kat’s existence? Or may possibly it simply condemn her? both approach, it was once info that Mr Shakespeare wanted, and in a rush. yet he wouldn’t get it whereas Boltfoot used to be aboard this putrid floating fish stall of a boat. the ocean turned rougher and the send lurched. Boltfoot curled himself up on a coil of rope and attempted to sleep. An hour or so out, the hatch opened and Boltfoot blinked open his eyes. Above him, within the sq. of darkish blue, he observed the yellow mild of a lantern. A gruff voice boomed into the echoing hole of the carry. ‘How’s it taking place there? ’ ‘Like a walk by way of Paris backyard. ’ ‘You wish a few aqua vitae? ’ Boltfoot laughed. ‘I’ll take the aqua vitae, yet what i actually wish is atmosphere down on dry land. ’ ‘Tell you what, I’ll deliver you a tot of spirit and a few tobacco. How does that sound? ’ ‘Good sufficient. ’ ‘And a few foodstuff, too. Don’t are looking to starve our new carver of casks, will we?