Kindle Edition Amazon Category:  Humor Publisher: Amazon ISBN-10:  B004AYDBVM Type: Fiction Pages: 214 Copyright: 2010 The first investigation by Brother Hermitage, that most medieval of all historical detectives. England 1066: At the monastery of De'Ath's Dingle, during a completely pointless theological debate, there is a mysterious death. Routine business for the average investigative medieval monk. Unfortunately this isn’t a tale of average monks. Anyone who would put the idiot Brother Simon in charge of a murder investigation is either one chant short of a plainsong, or is up to something. When Brother Hermitage, innocent in every way, including bystanding, is lined up for execution, he begins to wonder if something might be going on. Perhaps his new companion Wat, weaver of pornographic tapestry, can figure out what it is. Before it's too late. If you are a lover of the historical detective genre, if you have a deep respect for the worlds created, don’t read this book. It’ll only upset you Excerpt Caput V Day Three: Before Vespers From the site of the tumbling church of Lincoln the whole of God’s creation was laid out across the landscape. To the west the land dipped away quickly as the Lincoln edge sank into the bogs and fields that made up the flood plain of the rivers Trent and Witham. This was a fertile land, which had fed the inhabitants of the area for thousands of years. It was a treacherous one as well as it had also drowned quite a lot of them. Five hundred years after the Romans left the place to fall into wrack and ruin, if the phoenix wasn’t actually rising from the ashes, at least it was coughing a bit. It had coughed up the foundations of a new church. It would be magnificent. It would be given a new tower, and this tower would tower over the surrounding land like a big building on top of a hill. If the carpenter, drinking his afternoon beer while lounging on a foundation block for the statue of St Paul, had the eyes of a hawk, he would have been able to see Wat and Hermitage as they trudged along the Roman road towards the town. Unfortunately, the afternoon beer was only the most recent in an unbroken line which stretched back to the previous week. The carpenter wasn’t sure he could even see his own hands any more. Or at least determine why he now seemed to have so many of them. Hermitage and Wat’s journey proceeded without unusual incident. Obviously some small boys threw manure at the monk on several occasions but that was to be expected. At one point a very furtive man approached Wat and an exchange took place of some money for a very carefully wrapped small package. ‘Ah, for the life of the honest wandering merchant,’ Hermitage sighed. ‘Yes.’ Wat sighed rather as well. Their road climbed out of the wetlands and headed straight up the hill into the city. Hermitage thought the Romans had not got everything right after all. Any sensible builder faced with an almost vertical slope would have put some corners in to help loads zigzag their way upwards. Not the Romans. They were obsessed with straight on: come hell, high water or sheer cliffs. If you couldn’t walk straight up a hill you weren’t welcome on their road. ‘Well, my son,’ Hermitage said as they arrived, panting, at the top of the hill, ‘I think the time has come for us to part, for I must go to the bishop’s house with tidings.’ ‘Yes, and I must about my business. It’s been nice meeting you, cheerio.’ And Wat scuttled away without a backward glance. Hermitage thought the departure was a bit brusque. Immediately to his right he saw the entrance to the church building site. The way was plastered with litter and mud and half-finished bits of woodwork. A stack of completed gargoyles, the very latest thing in architecture, sat on a pallet to one side waiting their elevation onto the extension roof, so that they could hurl the rain away from the building and onto the peasants below. Even Hermitage, who had no knowledge of building practices, thought this was a bit odd. It looked as though the roof was still years away. It was an indication that this job was going to be as successful as old Canute’s sea defences strategy. To the right of the main site entrance was a beautiful lawn and path – a manicured anomaly in the surrounding chaos. The lawn was semicircular and edged with dozens of identically shaped and painted white stones. It obviously took a lot of effort to keep up. Wondering what such a pleasant vista could be part of, Hermitage went in search of the bishop’s house which he reasoned must be somewhere in the vicinity. A considerable time later, in complete darkness, he knocked with due deference on the door which had been on the other side of the lawn. The intervening time had been spent following directions from several local folk of varying accuracy and, Hermitage suspected in one instance, some deliberate devilment. After a further wait the door was opened by a very surly-looking fellow who occupied most of the space. ‘What?’ was a simple enquiry and all that was needed really, but Hermitage felt it was delivered with a less than reverential tone. It did not help his state of mind which, despite himself, was showing signs of the onset of encroaching testiness. ‘I have come with a message for the bishop,’ he said blankly. ‘What?’ Again it was sufficient to the situation, but could have been more engaging. ‘I am Brother Hermitage from the monastery at De’Ath’s Dingle and I have a message for the bishop’s ears from my abbot.’ Hermitage waved his parchment in the man’s face. He thought that this got the point of the visit across, and also made clear that he was not some urchin or chance traveller. He felt a pang of guilt as the trials of his journey seemed to have wrought a change in his thinking. Calm deliberation was being elbowed aside by an unnatural impatience. Pride had reared its shameful head and anger made him want to put this common little turd in his place.

A hit,, a palpable hit
This is a genuinely funny book. The author has an excellent grasp of the rules of comedy, an eye for a sharp one liner and an ability to keep the reader turning the pages (or whatever the kindle equivalent is - pressing the right arrow button perhaps). He has hit upon the excellent idea of taking Baldrick from Blackadder and making hm into a sleuthing monk - think Brother Cadfael with a turnip. He romps (or monks) around an England about to changed for ever by William the Bastard (or William the Conqueror as no one called him) attempting to understand why he is being held to blame for the murder of the most boring man in England: a middle aged theocrat with a shoe fetish.

In short: buy this book.

Loved it
I bought this book and hoped that it would pass a few hours whilst stuck indoors due to the weather and feeling low, well the books surpassed my hopes, I liked the easy style of writing and the characters had me laughing in no time, if you are hoping for a Brother Cadfael then this book is not for you, but if you want a good read with humour then please give it a try, so please can we have some more like this.

Fun Read
If you are into comedy crime/mystery thrillers and looking for something a little different, then I think you may enjoy this novel.

This is my favourite genre of book and I don't often come across one that I would recommend. But The Heretics of De'Ath, along with Joseph Wambaugh's Hollywood Station and Tony Royden's The Dealer are right on the money, genuinely funny (laugh-out-loud) reads, yet at the same time managing to incorporate gripping storylines and good characters.

The Heretics of De'Ath maybe set in Medieval times, but if you like a good dark comedy thriller, then look no further.