S Parris - Heresy

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Heresy: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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Masterfully blending true events with fiction, this blockbuster historical thriller delivers a page-turning murder mystery set on the sixteenth-century Oxford University campus.
Giordano Bruno was a monk, poet, scientist, and magician on the run from the Roman Inquisition on charges of heresy for his belief that the Earth orbits the sun and that the universe is infinite. This alone could have got him burned at the stake, but he was also a student of occult philosophies and magic.
In S. J. Parris's gripping novel, Bruno's pursuit of this rare knowledge brings him to London, where he is unexpectedly recruited by Queen Elizabeth I and is sent undercover to Oxford University on the pretext of a royal visitation. Officially Bruno is to take part in a debate on the Copernican theory of the universe; unofficially, he is to find out whatever he can about a Catholic plot to overthrow the queen.
His mission is dramatically thrown off course by a series of grisly murders and a spirited and beautiful young woman. As Bruno begins to discover a pattern in these killings, he realizes that no one at Oxford is who he seems to be. Bruno must attempt to outwit a killer who appears obsessed with the boundary between truth and heresy.
Like The Dante Club and The Alienist, this clever, sophisticated, exceptionally enjoyable novel is written with the unstoppable narrative propulsion and stylistic flair of the very best historical thrillers.

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"You dissemble well, Bruno-I expected as much. It must be an exceptional man who can keep ahead of the Inquisition for seven years. But you do not fool me. You are a schismatic and a heretic and you seek to prosper and revenge yourself on the Catholic church by betraying those who keep the faith you scorned."

"You have no reason to think so," I protested, genuinely alarmed now by the fierce light in Jenkes's eyes. "On what grounds do you accuse me?"

"On what grounds?" He gave a short, hacking laugh and took a step back, relaxing his arm, though he did not lower the knife from my throat. "What-apart from your intimacy with Sidney and the money you use to bribe your informers? Explain for me, then, your interest in the deaths at Lincoln College. For whose sake do you concern yourself so diligently with finding the killer?"

"What informers?" I lurched forward again unintentionally and felt something pull sharply in my shoulder as Humphrey wrenched my arms back tighter. "I was not convinced by the account of Doctor Mercer's death, that is all-I thought others might be in danger if the killer was not found. Which proved to be the case," I added pointedly.

"What touching charity," Jenkes said, almost without opening his lips. "Well, then, let us try another question. Why did you invite Thomas Allen to eat with you?"

My face must have betrayed my surprise, because he smiled thinly and tilted his head to one side.

"Have you never observed, Bruno, how a blind man can develop the hearing of a dog, to compensate for his lost faculty? Just so I, who have no ears, make up for my loss by having many eyes, that see into every corner." He laughed drily at this, as if he had rehearsed it earlier and found it pleasing. When I failed to show my appreciation, he lunged again, needling the knife tip in closer. "What were you asking Allen? What did he tell you?"

"He told me nothing of any worth," I panted, trying to twist my neck away from the point of the blade. "He talked of his studies, his worries about girls-the trivia of a young man's mind only."

"Do not lie to me again, Bruno," Jenkes said through his teeth, his voice calm and cold. "You deliberately sought out the one man in Oxford who wants to see us all destroyed." Then he jerked the knife swiftly to one side and there was a moment's pause before a searing pain shot up my neck and he held up the knife to my eye level, its blade stained crimson. "Look how you tremble to see your own blood. It's but a nick," he said dismissively. "You've had worse shaving. But see how you bleed, even from a little cut. Think how your blood will stain the ground when I cut your neck right across."

I closed my eyes, my mind spinning wildly as I tried to think of ways I might try to escape. None came obviously to mind.

"If Thomas Allen wishes to destroy your group, why would he not report what he knows?"

"Ah." Jenkes studied me for a moment. "I see there is much you do not yet know, Bruno. It is not that simple. He cannot do it himself. But I cannot let you pass on whatever he has told you about us."

"If you mean to kill me, then," I said, keeping my voice as even as I could manage, "at least tell me why you killed those men at Lincoln. Satisfy that curiosity for me."

Jenkes frowned, then looked over at Bernard as if for approval.

"What a strange last request, Bruno. And one I cannot satisfy, for I did not kill Mercer and Coverdale, nor the boy, and I do not know for certain who did. I am as curious to find the answer as you are."

"Then why do you wish to prevent anyone finding out? They came here for Mass, did they not? Coverdale and Mercer-they were part of your group. Do you not care that they have been violently killed, and more of you may be in danger?" I asked, looking from one to the other in confusion, the cut in my throat now stinging fiercely.

"Their deaths have provoked too many questions," Bernard said, in the same clear, solemn tone with which he had pronounced the Mass. "Oxford men would know well enough to leave those questions unanswered, but you are not an Oxford man and your insistence on ferreting out the truth would expose us all in the end. I'm sorry to say that your curiosity has been the undoing of you."

He sounded genuinely sorrowful as he said this. For a moment I felt the room spin; my heart seemed to have stopped beating and I lost all sensation in my arms and legs as I realised without any doubt that they did mean to kill me and that it was quite possible I would not be able to talk my way out of it. My bowel gave a spasm at the same time, but I tensed every muscle and brought it under control. I would at least not shame myself that way.

"But," I gasped, battling to catch my ragged breaths, "then this killer is your enemy-it is he who is causing these questions to be asked! He scrawled the sign of the Catherine Wheel on the wall in Coverdale's blood-it is as if he wants to point the finger at you and your group, while it is your people he is killing! Surely, then, it can only help you if I try to find him?"

A sharp look passed between them at the mention of the symbol; Bernard's face hardened into knowing anger and Jenkes seemed rattled for the first time since he had turned on me.

"Say that again," he hissed, forcing the knife into the tender skin of the cut he had made so that I yelped in pain and bit my lip to stop myself crying out. Bernard took a step closer and shook his head almost imperceptibly; Jenkes withdrew the knife a very little. "On the wall, you say? How many people saw this?"

"Apart from me, only Rector Underhill and the bursar, Slythurst," I said, almost in a whisper. "The rector had it removed before the coroner arrived."

"Good." Bernard nodded almost to himself. "Well, then, Rowland, let us get this thing done and be on our way, or we shall risk being seen."

"No, wait!" I cried, as quietly as I could. "I can help you find him if you let me go back to college and continue my search. Come-we are on the same side."

Jenkes laughed abruptly. "We are not on the same side, Bruno," he replied. "Do you not see? You think you are hunting this killer down but all the time he is using you to betray us. He wants to lead you to us, to make you connect the deaths to us and probe into the secrets of our network, so that you can take the knowledge back to Sidney and your friends in London and think it was your own conclusion."

"You speak as if you know who he is," I said, feeling that if I could only keep him talking I might deter him from the course of action he had decided. But Jenkes, it seemed, was tired of talking; he nodded at Bernard, who finally drew his hands out from behind his back to reveal a length of thin cord.

"You have seen and heard too much, Bruno," Jenkes said matter-of-factly, his knife still quivering at my throat as Bernard disappeared behind me and my wrists were roughly pulled together and bound. "But I will find out what Thomas Allen told you, and whether you have passed it on, before I send you to the Devil. You can tell me willingly or otherwise, it is up to you."

"Why do you not ask Thomas Allen?"

"Because he is not here. But do not worry-I think it unlikely that Thomas Allen will see tomorrow's sunrise either."

"You will kill him too?" I gasped.

"Not I, Bruno." Jenkes shook his head and offered an enigmatic smile. "Not I. I have not touched Thomas Allen for the sake of his father, who kept faith with us even under hard torture. But Thomas should not have spoken to you. Now others may not be so scrupulous."

"I am a guest with the royal party," I spluttered, grasping now at straws, "my murder would be a scandal-it will lead the magistrate straight to this place."

Jenkes shook his head slowly.

"You badly underestimate my intelligence, Bruno, I almost find it insulting. Even a member of a royal party may take a fancy to visit the stews in the dead of night-after all, that is no more than anyone would expect of a foreigner and a papist. And not knowing the bad streets in that part of town, he might easily find himself the victim of violent robbers-especially if he will go abroad carrying such a fat purse. It will be an embarrassment to the royal party, no doubt, but they will quickly dissociate themselves from you. What do you think, William," he asked, raising his head toward Bernard, who was still tying my arms while Humphrey held them in place, "shall we leave his body to be found outside one of the boy houses, or is that a humiliation too far?"

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