In the eighth Sir Robert Carey mystery, the newly appointed deputy warden finds himself on the Scottish border, where blood feuds are imbibed with mother’s milk. Warned by the King of Spain of a possible plot against England and Queen Elizabeth I, Carey travels to the Scottish court of King James VI at Edinburgh to investigate, joined by Simon Anricks, a tooth-drawer, philosopher, and spy. Anricks is preparing to debate mathematician John Napier at court over the Copernican versus the Ptolemaic conceptions of the movement of the spheres. King James will declare the winner at a grand masque for the New Year, where costumed lords and ladies will portray the planets in a dance.
The mystery builds slowly and the author paints a splendid portrait of Elizabethan society at all levels, filled with homey details and colorful characters, as the narrative shifts among several intriguing characters—not only Carey, but also his henchman Henry Dodd, Dodd’s wife Janet, the former mining engineer Jonathan Hepburn, his paramour Marguerite (lady in waiting to the Queen of Scotland), Marguerite’s jealous, elderly husband, Sir David Graham, the Jesuit Father Crichton, Carey’s servant Hughie Tyndale, and even Dodd’s beloved horse, Whitesock.
Carey’s outward persona as the quintessential courtier, more interested in the latest court fashions than in the arts of war, provides cover for an adept sleuth with a steely will, while multiple intersecting feuds, plots, and jealousies keep the reader guessing until the final pages. The end is satisfying, but leaves open the possibility of future installments. There’s also a helpful glossary to explain historical terms such as cramoisie (a dark purplish red) and morion (a type of helmet).