How’s this for a Tuesday Teaser? I know exactly when I got bitten by this plot bunny. We were visiting the Festival of history at Kelmarsh Hall. To my left was a collection of vehicles and memorabilia from the First and Second World Wars. To my right was a beer tent and performance space. Right in front of me were armourers and leathersmiths, seamstresses and embroiderers and – from somewhere a little ways away – came the sounds of cannonfire and horses whinnying.
I unfolded the map I’d just been given to get my bearings and decide where to start, when my mind went off all by its little self and this plot bunny suddenly appeared.
“Why the hell should I care who Blondel sleeps with?”
Having gained a degree in medieval history before studying for another one in criminal justice brought me nothing but shit and snarky comments from my colleagues.
And supposedly funny, weird, anonymous notes.
The things had been arriving for just over a week now, each hinting at impending murder and mayhem and each couched in terms that would only make sense to a medievalist.
Who of the assholes in my office was pulling my leg I hadn’t figured out just yet, but when I got there – and I would – they were going to regret it.
I know the narrator’s name is Richard Cantlop, Ricky to his friends, but the bunny didn’t stick around long enough to tell me more. Or I was too busy gawking and applauding the re-enactors to listen to what it was trying to tell me. Unfortunately, the thing now is like a burr in my brain. It won’t leave me alone and I keep drawing blanks when it comes to the problem facing dear Ricky.
Typical. Just… typical. If you have an idea what soup I might land the poor boy in, please put me out of my misery and let me know. All suggestions gratefully received….