Reviewed by Paul Carrier
Matthew Shardlake is nothing if not resilient.
By 1541, the London lawyer with a knack for investigating crimes on behalf of the high and mighty no longer has Thomas Cromwell’s patronage, as he did in the first two installments of this mystery series. That’s because Cromwell, King Henry VIII’s onetime chief minister, has lost his head. Literally.
But before he was executed on trumped-up charges of treason, Cromwell, an ardent religious “reformer," told Archbishop Thomas Cranmer of the Church of England that Shardlake is a good man to have in your corner when a mission requires intelligence, tact and finesse. Even if the hunchbacked lawyer is no great fan of the king, has lost his religious zeal, and is too squeamish to enjoy a good bear-baiting.
So despite Shardlake’s desire to stay under the Tudor radar in the post-Cromwellian era, he now finds himself working for Cranmer. The archbishop persuades Shardlake to head north to York, to help decide which local grievances will be presented to the king for review when Henry visits that city.
Once Shardlake agrees to tackle that job, Cranmer gives him a tougher assignment: supervise the safe transfer of Sir Edward Broderick, a traitor, from York to London, where he can be questioned (read: tortured) about his involvement in a failed plot to depose the king.
Cranmer is convinced that Broderick is withholding valuable information about the derailed conspiracy, and the archbishop wants to keep Broderick healthy until he can be locked up in the Tower of London. The archbishop fears that Broderick’s jailer in York may be dangerously harsh, so Shardlake is sent north to rein him in.
The back story here is that Henry’s break with the Catholic Church is proving far less popular in Yorkshire than in the south of England. That’s why Henry and his newly minted fifth wife, Catherine Howard, are making a Great Progress to the north, to awe Henry’s subjects there and reassert his authority. The author brings this huge royal cavalcade to life with sweeping descriptive passages and a great eye for detail.
Shardlake’s assignments are never simple. Once he and his assistant, the rakish Jack Barak, arrive in York in advance of the king and queen, a glazier is murdered. His dying words to Shardlake are cryptic but troublesome, and evidence suggests a link between the victim and the plot against the king, which complicates Shardlake’s mission. So does the fact that someone keeps trying to kill Shardlake after he discovers a cache of mysterious documents in the murdered glazier’s home.
You don't need a good working knowledge of English history to enjoy Sovereign, but it helps. Not only is the tale set in the 16th century, but the royal bloodline going back several generations figures prominently in the plot. C. J. Sansom’s British readers may know Henry’s genealogy, but American fans might find themselves perusing Wikipedia entries, to figure out who's who, and why it matters.
Sansom uses just enough archaic jargon to convey a sense of time and place, without overwhelming the reader with unfamiliar terms. The locals in York refer to people from the south of England as “southrons.” A young boy is a “nobbin,” beggars are “caitiffs,” sweets are “comfits,” and so on.
Sovereign vividly captures the feel of what it must have been like to live in 16th-century England, when a ruthless monarch ruled over a world seething with intrigue, discord, ambition and greed. The aging, crippled king emerges as a vain and mean-spirited tyrant who willingly has his enemies, real or imagined, tortured and killed.
In fact, of the first three novels in the Shardlake series, Sovereign may well offer the most expansive overview of English life during Henry’s reign because it is the only one of the three in which Henry himself makes a (very memorable) appearance, as well as the only one of the three that is largely set in the hostile - and, at times, rebellious - north of England.
As Shardlake’s man Barak likes to say of the noblemen, royal functionaries and courtiers they meet along the way in their latest adventure, Tudor England is full of “arseholes,” not the least of whom is Henry VIII himself.
By 1541, the London lawyer with a knack for investigating crimes on behalf of the high and mighty no longer has Thomas Cromwell’s patronage, as he did in the first two installments of this mystery series. That’s because Cromwell, King Henry VIII’s onetime chief minister, has lost his head. Literally.
But before he was executed on trumped-up charges of treason, Cromwell, an ardent religious “reformer," told Archbishop Thomas Cranmer of the Church of England that Shardlake is a good man to have in your corner when a mission requires intelligence, tact and finesse. Even if the hunchbacked lawyer is no great fan of the king, has lost his religious zeal, and is too squeamish to enjoy a good bear-baiting.
So despite Shardlake’s desire to stay under the Tudor radar in the post-Cromwellian era, he now finds himself working for Cranmer. The archbishop persuades Shardlake to head north to York, to help decide which local grievances will be presented to the king for review when Henry visits that city.
Once Shardlake agrees to tackle that job, Cranmer gives him a tougher assignment: supervise the safe transfer of Sir Edward Broderick, a traitor, from York to London, where he can be questioned (read: tortured) about his involvement in a failed plot to depose the king.
Cranmer is convinced that Broderick is withholding valuable information about the derailed conspiracy, and the archbishop wants to keep Broderick healthy until he can be locked up in the Tower of London. The archbishop fears that Broderick’s jailer in York may be dangerously harsh, so Shardlake is sent north to rein him in.
The back story here is that Henry’s break with the Catholic Church is proving far less popular in Yorkshire than in the south of England. That’s why Henry and his newly minted fifth wife, Catherine Howard, are making a Great Progress to the north, to awe Henry’s subjects there and reassert his authority. The author brings this huge royal cavalcade to life with sweeping descriptive passages and a great eye for detail.
Shardlake’s assignments are never simple. Once he and his assistant, the rakish Jack Barak, arrive in York in advance of the king and queen, a glazier is murdered. His dying words to Shardlake are cryptic but troublesome, and evidence suggests a link between the victim and the plot against the king, which complicates Shardlake’s mission. So does the fact that someone keeps trying to kill Shardlake after he discovers a cache of mysterious documents in the murdered glazier’s home.
You don't need a good working knowledge of English history to enjoy Sovereign, but it helps. Not only is the tale set in the 16th century, but the royal bloodline going back several generations figures prominently in the plot. C. J. Sansom’s British readers may know Henry’s genealogy, but American fans might find themselves perusing Wikipedia entries, to figure out who's who, and why it matters.
Sansom uses just enough archaic jargon to convey a sense of time and place, without overwhelming the reader with unfamiliar terms. The locals in York refer to people from the south of England as “southrons.” A young boy is a “nobbin,” beggars are “caitiffs,” sweets are “comfits,” and so on.
Sovereign vividly captures the feel of what it must have been like to live in 16th-century England, when a ruthless monarch ruled over a world seething with intrigue, discord, ambition and greed. The aging, crippled king emerges as a vain and mean-spirited tyrant who willingly has his enemies, real or imagined, tortured and killed.
In fact, of the first three novels in the Shardlake series, Sovereign may well offer the most expansive overview of English life during Henry’s reign because it is the only one of the three in which Henry himself makes a (very memorable) appearance, as well as the only one of the three that is largely set in the hostile - and, at times, rebellious - north of England.
As Shardlake’s man Barak likes to say of the noblemen, royal functionaries and courtiers they meet along the way in their latest adventure, Tudor England is full of “arseholes,” not the least of whom is Henry VIII himself.
