The Mad Monk of Gidleigh (Hardcover)

More important than the style, the plot reads like a male author's fantasy world of sex and violence. Much of the mystery consists of surprising relevations, in a deus-ex-mechina fashion, about who fathered whom (the ending suprise is totally egregious and unmotivated, apparently existing only for its own sake), and the author apparently revels in descriptions of the villainous aristocrats' overdrawn cruelty and the long-drawn-out decisive battle.

I will give him credit for his portrayal of the helplessness of the non-powerful in the early years of the fourteenth century. In his negative view of medieval life, he and Edith Pargeter, a.k.a. Ellis Peters (author of the thirteenth century Brother Cadfael series) balance each other. However, he commits a historian's howler by making the early protagonist a monk; although the size of their estates in the fourtenth century led abbots and their agents into the world on monastery (and, notoriously, occasionally personal) business, monks were explicitly dedicated to retiring from the world to a life of prayer, and were a branch of clergy quite distinct from diocesan priests entrusted with the care of a flock as Father Mark was.

Let me say that although the mystery in the story is sufficient, it's in the characters and in the reality of everyday life that the story comes alive. The author (who, btw, knows medieval history so well he plays with his inexperienced readers from time to time) is fascinated with the imbalance of power between the serfs and their masters: the nobles and the clergy. He describes with passion the abuse of power perpetrated by the not-so-noble knights on the submissive local serfs. The knights think themselves invulnerable as they believe they have the support of the most powerful family in the kingdom. Yet, their plotting leaves them with no real friends and their newly acquired castle is guarded by hired soldiers who have their own agenda in mind.

A girl is viciously murdered and the priest who had an affair with her is accused, but soon we find out he's not guilty of killing her and her death is somehow tied to another murder of a man whom she has never known, but who held some secrets of the lord of the castle. Into that complicated web of local gossip and vicious plotting for yet more power Sir Baldwin arrives. He's an ex-Templar, now married and for the first time since the destruction of his Order daring to be happy. He's been charged by the king with finding the truth. He's a worldly man, a little cynical from his experiences, yet a kind man despite his ruling manner. By the time he's figured out the depth of evil contained in the murder mystery the reader will believe the medieval times were indeed very dark. Yet, things are at their darkest just before sunrise. It's the good act that redeems the cruel man and there is no act that can't be redeemed. We see the men get up and live their simple lives in dignity because the justice was done just as our knight marches off on a pilgrimage to pay for his mistake.

I think Brother Cadfael would say "things are as they should be."