Allison and Busby first edition paperback - 2026
Now that Susanna Gregory's Matthew Bartholomew (2020), C.J. Sansom's Matthew Shardlake (2019) have well and truly ended; Scott Mariani's Will Bowman is stopping this December, after a mere four books; and I am keeping the eleven volumes of Edward Marston's The Domesday Series for a rainy fortnight; I am having to rely on an annual 'fix' of Sarah Hawkswood's Bradcote and Catchpoll tales for my medieval/early modern historical novels. A Shroud of Snow is her fourteenth outing and we are still in the middle of the Stephen/Matilda Anarchy years. It is December 1145 and we are back in Worcester.
It is bitterly cold, and Hamelin Isenmongere has just visited the local priest, Father Anselm. The Gloucester merchant is a regular giver of money for the poor. On his return to his riverside warehouse, he crosses the path of Godhild, a young prostitute. Initially, she steps in front of him for the obvious reason; but, instead, she receives two silver pennies - to keep indoors and keep fed these next couple o'days. Hamelin is never seen alive again. The following morning, a local fisherman Walter stares at a snowy heap that resolved itself into the body of a man, lying at the water's edge, one arm dangling down so that the hand dipped into the water, except that for two feet out into the river, the surface was frozen, and held the hand in its vice-like grip. For the next 270 pages, the reader follows the usual trio - Undersheriff Hugh Bradecote, Sergeant Catchpoll and Under Sergeant Walkelin - as they doggedly search out the culprit.
By now, after thirteen previous tales stretching back authorially to 2014 (but only to June 1143 with the first story, Servant of Death), I have got to know their quirks of behaviour, their strengths and weaknesses. This is due to Hawkswood's natural story-telling skills, both of character and place. She conjures up the Worcester of the mid-twelfth century compellingly - no artificial cod-medieval speech or silly archaisms - and the claustrophobic atmosphere of the narrow streets, musty and gloomy warehouses, downbeat houses and brooding castle buildings is well done.
Catchpoll, rarely bested, is outmanoeuvred by Hamelin's riverman, Ragnaill of Duiblinn. The crafty bastard (Catchpoll's words, not mine) invited him on board his boat, to question the crew, and then casts off. So Catchpoll finds himself on his way down river to Gloucester. Meanwhile, Walkelin, assuming unusual authority due to Catchpoll's absence, rides over to Bradecote Manor for Hugh. The forbidding lord Sheriff of Worcester, William de Beauchamp, is absent, so Simon Furnaux, his castellan, is left in command of the castle. Our intrepid trio dislike, in fact loath, Simon. On this occasion, with increasing reason, as it soon becomes apparent that there was a link between the castellan and the dead ironmonger. When Bradecote and Walkelin visit Hamelin's home, not only do they find this evidence but also the body of the latter's widowed housekeeper, Agnes, raped before being murdered.
Catchpoll is not impressed when he meets the newly-widowed Mistress Sybilla Isenmongere - she maybe shocked at his news, but not grief-stricken. She is cold and haughty and wishes to go to Worcester - for her husbands body but, more importantly, to search for any money and artefacts belonging to him. Not only do Catchpoll, Ragnaill and Sybilla (it is soon clear that they are more than just servant and mistress) turn up in Worcester, but so does a bad-tempered William de Beauchamp, demanding an immediate resolution of the murders.
There are other realistic touches - Walkelin is on tenterhooks throughout, as his wife is expecting their first child; the scribes at the castle are definite individuals, not just caricatures; as are the warehouse figures, such as Tostig Thoraldsson and Samson One-Eye. I liked the tetchy relationships and dialogues between de Beauchamp and Furnaux, and Sybilla and Ragnaill; and the increasing telepathic communication between Bradecote, Catchpoll and Walkelin. The overall political scenario was not forgotten, either. Robert of Gloucester's machinations in Worcester were revealed and placed in the context of the conflict between King Stephen and the Empress Matilda. All in all, a very pleasant two-evenings' read.