Sovereign by C. J. Sansom

Source of book: Borrowed from the library

This is book number three of Sansom’s Matthew Shardlake series of murder mysteries set in the days of Henry VIII. As with the previous ones, they are filled with political intrigue, exhaustively researched, and full of authentic detail. The previous installments are:

Dissolution

Dark Fire

I was introduced to these books by a legal colleague for obvious reasons: we both write for our local Bar Association magazine, we both read interesting books, and Matthew Shardlake is a lawyer who lives a much more exciting and terrifying life than we ever wish to. More recently, a friend and fellow blogger took my suggestion and wrote about them herself.

This third book centers around several real-life events, specifically Henry’s Northern Progress, his marriage to Catherine Howard, and her subsequent execution for adultery. Shardlake is manipulated by Archbishop Cramner into accepting a rather unpleasant job: making sure an accused traitor is kept alive until he can be transported to the Tower of London and tortured. This is in addition to his more pleasant job of sorting through the local justice petitions to be presented to the king, along with a respected local lawyer. Come to think of it, this last job IS kind of a dream job in a way. Kind of like the 16th Century version of clerking for a judge...a really powerful one...but with small claims cases. Yeah, I think that would be great. Except for the chance of getting whacked that came with about any job back then. Oh well.

So, what was the Northern Progress? Heck, what even IS a “Royal Progress?” I’ll admit my knowledge was a bit sketchy here, despite my early exposure to John Bunyan’s most famous work. A “Progress” is certainly not a minor affair. More like a tour by a king and a few thousand of his followers, servants, and soldiers. In this case, the Northern Progress was intended to awe and cow the mostly Catholic northern provinces in England out of their plans to rebel. Henry packed up a huge hoard, and went north, visiting York, among other places. The bulk of the book is set in York, and concerns a nascent rebellion and its fallout.

A couple of interesting things come to mind in this connection. First, I hadn’t really connected the idea of the Royal Progress with Pilgrim’s Progress. Now, I have to wonder if Bunyan wasn’t making an interesting point. A king touring his realm is a Progress. But for Bunyan, who was too radical even for the Puritans, the idea of an everyman’s journey to paradise warranting the term “Progress” must have been part and parcel of his anti establishment beliefs. Pretty radical. Which might have contributed to his unpopularity with the powers that were.  

Secondly, the nightmare of logistics surrounding celebrities apparently have always been a problem. This rock star could behead you, obviously, but other than that...this had a lot in common with Woodstock. Insufficient provisions for sanitation, problems with food supply, threatening weather, prostitution, and so on.

Sansom is at his best describing the reality of these conditions. Like a good lawyer (and Samson was one before hitting it big with his writing), he envisions the downsides of everything. As with his descriptions of London, he unfailingly finds the stink.

Set in this crazy setting is a real-life controversy. As anyone who knows his or her history (or his or her Shakespeare), knows: Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. The number one cause of death for royalty often seems to be assassination, and deposition is always just one error away. Henry had managed to quash one Northern rebellion, and didn’t want to risk another. It didn’t help, of course, that his father (Henry VII), had a rather tenuous claim to the crown in the first place. After Richard III was killed, the succession was kind of up for grabs until Henry VII enforced his claim with violence. (And murder of most of his competition. There is some evidence that it was Henry, not Richard, who murdered the princes in the tower. It would certainly help his case.) But, it should not be forgotten, Henry VII was most directly descended from the previous dynasty not in his own right, but because he married into the line. So, in a just world, his wife should have been queen. Henry’s claim was as the heir of an illegitimate son of John of Gaunt (see Richard II…) on the Lancaster side of the War of the Roses. Henry VII’s wife Elizabeth, was on the York side. So he could claim to unite them. And he had a really big, badass army. Which was pretty much the deciding factor.

Then add in this: there was a claim that Henry’s wife’s father was actually illegitimate, the son of a no-name archer, and Richard of York’s wife Cecily. This theory is what drives the book.

I mention all this, not just because it is key to the plot, but because we lawyers find the whole inheritance rules fascinating. (You have insomnia? Ask a lawyer to explain the Rule Against Perpetuities…)

Anyway, the would-be rebels have documentation of the alleged truth of this claim, which would arguably render Henry VIII an illegitimate king, and install a rival from another branch of the family, who happens to be...strongly Catholic. You can guess where this is going.

Shardlake and his able (and part Jewish - in an era when the Jews had been evicted from England) assistant, Jack Barak, are asked to investigate a suspicious death, find a box with this documentation, which is then stolen from them by an unknown personage, and they are embroiled in a political maelstrom once again.

In this world, politics and religion have become inseparable. To be in favor of protestantism, one must support Henry. To oppose him is to embrace Catholicism. Unless one is a true dissenter, in which case, expect to be tortured and executed by both sides. Oh, and the strange bedfellows. The Northerners attempted an alliance with Scotland, which was torn between the Catholics and the Presbyterians (which hated the Church of England), so even making an alliance was a political decision for Scotland…

In our own era too, religion has become bound up with politics, which is why I, like Shardlake, find myself outside of any one camp these days. At least in our days, so far, this isn’t a life or death situation. What seems more likely is that the branch of religion that has aligned itself with Donald Trump is going to lose the next generation or two for the most part.

Which leads me to this: in this book, we see the old, obese, vindictive Henry VIII. Not the young, handsome, and politically astute. His political skills, like his physical (and sexual) prowess, have faded, and all he has left is power and brutality. There is some historical truth here. Certainly, Henry was bloody. As I pointed out regarding the first book in the series, over the course of his reign, Henry VIII killed one in forty of his subjects for political reasons. In our modern US, that would mean a murder of 7.2 million people. More than the population of a majority of our states. I’m glad not to live in those times.

But what does strike me here is the unpleasant parallels between our current political era. Trump is no Henry VIII. But he would certainly fit in to the Tudor Era as an egotistical, petty, vindictive narcissistic sociopath. The sort of people kings tend to be. Although I believe he is far too incompetent at anything other than demagoguery to actually succeed in those times, you can tell he craves it. He craves the fawning. He craves the power to silence those who disagree. And he governs based on patronage just like the old kings. This doesn’t work so well in the 21st Century

This leads me to what I think is the central quote of the book. Shardlake and Barak are discussing the political (and religious) implications if the king were proven to be illegitimate.

“God speaking through the King’s voice,” Barak shook his head. “That has always seemed to me as stupid an idea as that he speaks through the Pope’s”

And thus we have much of human history. The insistence that God speaks through certain privileged humans. Not just in Catholicism. Not just in the days of Church and State being combined. We see it today in the way that particular interpretations are used as weapons against vulnerable people around the world - and to remove dissenters who point out the evil that is being done.

I won’t get into the plot any further than this. I will say that I smoked out the major plot twist at the end about halfway through the book. But it was satisfying when it finally came to full light. (Hey, I was raised on Agatha Christie. And I’m still not as good as my wife at this…)

A thoroughly satisfying book, well above average in both the historical fiction and murder mystery genres.

Dark Fire by C. J. Sansom

Source of book: Borrowed from the Library

A colleague introduced me to Sansom last year, starting with the first book in the series, Dissolution. I enjoyed that book very much, so I decided to push on to the next.

There is a saying about second efforts in all genres that has a certain amount of truth to it. It isn’t unusual for a second book or album to be a disappointment. If nothing else, the first success was the result of a long effort, while the second is sometimes quickly thrown together to capitalize on the success of the first.

This is definitely not the case with C. J. Sansom. If anything, the second book, Dark Fire, is even better than the first. 

Sansom is an English solicitor, sort of (but not exactly) analogous to a transactional lawyer in our United States’ legal system. The protagonist, Matthew Shardlake shares this profession - but in the time of Henry VIII. Shardlake is a hunchback, somewhat outside of the approval of society. It is this alienation - and the alienation of several of his associates - that makes him who he is.

While the previous book dealt with a murder committed at a monastery which was being secularized as part of the reforms under Thomas Cromwell (who hires Shardlake to investigate), this mystery is set in London itself. There are two parallel mysteries, in fact. The first is a private case that Shardlake has undertaken: defending a young woman accused of murdering her cousin. The second is another commission from Cromwell with much bigger stakes.

Cromwell has been approached by an alchemist who claims to have rediscovered Dark Fire (aka Greek Fire) in an old monastery. A demonstration is made - successfully - and a time is set to demonstrate for the king himself. But the circumstances are odd, and Cromwell seeks to investigate. Before things can go very far, though, the alchemist is brutally murdered, and all traces of the formula and the Dark Fire disappear.

Throughout the long investigation (the book is nearly 500 pages), it becomes increasingly clear that there are a number of major political figures of the era involved, and that the outcome will determine the fate of England itself.

Sansom has clearly researched his books thoroughly. I did a bit of reading on my own to refresh my memory as to the actual history, and Sansom carefully hews to the known facts whenever the plot involves real events. The dark fire mystery may be fictional, but the players and the fall of Cromwell are most certainly not. Likewise, Sansom put in the time to understand the science behind Greek Fire, both the chemistry and the physics of the delivery mechanism. Equally challenging in this case was to keep the knowledge of the characters limited to that of the 16th Century. Avoiding modern anachronisms is a tough task, but Sansom does his work well.

There is also great skill evident in the historical detail. Whether it is the sights, the sounds, the social issues and arguments, the religious sects, and especially the smells of the city, Sansom brings them to life convincingly. I have yet to detect any errors in any of this - and I care about science and history. It is this attention to detail combined with vivid writing that raises this book above the usual crowd of historical fiction or mystery writing.

The one thing that does strike one as slightly out of place is that Shardlake is a rather modern thinker. Let me hasten to add that this is clearly intentional on the author’s part. Shardlake is both a character, and a stand-in for the author and the reader. Probably an average lawyer of the time wouldn’t have thought in feminist terms or with the same eye to both skepticism and human rights. I mean, the Enlightenment was still a century or more away. But this isn’t as much of a stretch as one might think. Shardlake is an admirer of Erasmus, who himself was far ahead of his time. There is also evidence that a number of intellectuals were already thinking and writing things which would eventually lead to the Enlightenment, so it isn’t unthinkable that others thought the same way, but were unwilling to risk life and property to say them out loud.

In addition to the atmosphere, Sansom has also brought realistic writing to the society itself. Prostitution is (in practice) legal and regulated, women face difficult choices if they become pregnant out of wedlock - and these choices are determined in significant part by wealth. The poor live in deplorable conditions and, like in our own day, the wealthy use their influence to avoid regulation of the slums.

There are a few other things that I thought were interesting about this book. First, Shardlake has a new sidekick. Mark, his original one, eloped to Europe under circumstances that demanded he stay there, so he was obviously not going to be back. I was never a big fan of Mark, though. He was okay, but not a great foil for Shardlake.

Replacing Mark is one of Cromwell’s lackeys, Jack Barak, a rogue of dubious history, with a semi-secret Jewish heritage. (Not good in an era when the Jews had been forcibly expelled from England. Ah, the good old days…) Barak was educated as a child, so he is able to assist in the legal matters, but he later joined the underworld, so his real talents are, well, more physical. At the outset, the two of them do not get along, each suspicious of the other (for good reason) and at odds over both social niceties and social issues. Shardlake, after all, has never known true poverty. He may be compassionate, but he doesn’t really get the experience of the side. Barak, on the other hand, loathes the nobility, and has a tendency to forget his manners at the worst time. This all makes for a nice bit of frisson when they are forced to rely on each other to solve the mystery - and indeed to stay alive.

Like Dissolution, Dark Fire explores the key issue of the day in England: whence Church and State? Henry VIII initially made common cause with the reformer Thomas Cromwell in persecuting both Catholics and Non-conformists. Cromwell was disgustingly bloody - a fact that makes Shardlake uncomfortable even as he must submit to Cromwell. This eventually leads Shardlake to become disillusioned with the Reformist cause, and increasingly question his faith. Toward the end of the book, Shardlake has a conversation with Guy, a Catholic moorish apothecary we meet in the first book - a man who is lying low trying to live his life without being persecuted for his differences: black skin, African (and Muslim) origin, and forbidden religion.

‘Why does faith bring out the worst in so many, Guy?’ I blurted out. ‘How is it that it can turn men, papist and reformer both, into brutes?’

‘Man is an angry, savage being. Sometimes faith becomes an excuse for battle. It is no real faith then. In justifying their positions in the name of God, men silence God.’

‘But have the comfortable belief that, having read the Bible and prayed, they cannot be wrong.’

‘I fear so.’

This is a conversation that has played out in my head over the last few years, as I see my own tribe gearing up for jihad against all who believe differently, Christian, Atheist, or Muslim.

Many of the best conversations (in both books) come between Shardlake and Guy. They are both “outsiders,” so to speak, and both have modern sensibilities. And both have a love for truth and goodness that few of their contemporaries - who grasp for political power and wealth at any cost - share. This means that they often are out of step with the times, trying to find their own way by the light they have. As Guy puts it in context with scientific discoveries:

‘I am with those thinkers who consider God means us to uncover the secrets of the earth by the slow, sure path of observation rather than mystical formulae in ancient books.’

Sansom makes it clear that this difference in approach has also led to the problems in religion and statecraft as well. Creed always wins out over human realities in this world of the past. And sometimes too often in our own as well.  

While not too many major characters in each book are female - the first book is set in a monastery and the second involves high intrigue -  Sansom make the most of the characters he does employ. Even the minor female characters are complex and have histories that make their actions understandable. As in any era, some are expressly feminist, as in Lady Honor, who greatly enjoys the freedom that her wealthy widowhood brings. Others seek to gratify their ambition through carefully orchestrating their descendents’ social rise, as Mrs. Wentworth does - at any price.

The author also notes one of the interesting results of the Protestant Reformation. Often forgotten in any discussion of that history is that it was the beginning of the loss of authority for institutions in general. With Martin Luther and the rest, the shocking idea that the average (literate) person could and should read and interpret the Bible without depending on the experts of the priesthood - that man needed no mediator to access God - led eventually to the collapse of church authority. In the setting of these books, the State and the Church are struggling to figure out how to function when non-conformists insist on doing and believing as they wish, without granting political loyalty to a particular faction.

This crumbling of authority led to the Enlightenment, of course, in which interpretation of, well, nearly everything, became divorced from dogma. Instead, science, reason, and investigation became the new method for determining truth. I won’t spend too much time on the effect this had on science, human rights, and so on.

I do want to mention that this idea also led inevitably to feminism. After all, if the average person could interpret the Bible and determine his own actions based on his conscience and intellect, why couldn’t women do the same? This didn’t necessarily go over well with everyone. As one traditionalist lawyer says, “Not just apprentices. Even silly little women fancy they can read the Bible now and understand God’s Word.” The same later brags that he has never read the Bible, and never will.

But of course, once you let women think for themselves, they might want to vote, control their own money, determine their own destiny.

Just a couple more little tidbits that should be noted. First, as I am not a fashion mavin, I had to look up “farthingale.” Thank goodness I never had to wear one. Forget petticoats. How about a wicker frame to carry around with you under your dress? Yikes.

A reminder that today's fashions aren't nearly as silly as those of the past.

I’ll end with this one. Early in the book, Shardlake mentions this annoying case he has, where the opposing party...well, I’ll let him describe the sort of person all of us lawyers know all too well:

[H]e was one of those maddening rogues whom lawyers encounter, who take perverse pleasure in spending time and money on uncertain cases rather than admitting defeat and making proper remedy like civilized men.

Dark Fire can be heartily recommended for anyone who loves a good mystery, a good historical novel, or just history and good writing in general.