Sara Douglass - The Crippled Angel

Book Three of the Crucible Trilogy

The Crippled Angel is dedicated, fittingly, to the bestest bunch of Apostolic Wreakers of Havoc ever: Alana, Corey, Craig, Elizabeth, Justin, Karmela, Mark C, Matt, Matthew, Michelle J, Michelle L, Patrick, Tanya and particularly to Tracey who has so obligingly taken over the reins of Tyranny whenever I felt a tad fragile. Thank you all so much for your help .

With thanks to Rachel Smallman for her vision of heaven, and to Stephanie Smith and all the team at HarperCollins Publishers Australia for seeing me through to the end of another trilogy.

He married his wife on Sunday

Beat her well on Monday,

Bad was she on Tuesday,

Middling was she on Wednesday,

Worse was she on Thursday,

Dead was she on Friday;

Glad was he on Saturday night,

To bury his wife on Sunday,

And take a new wife on Monday,

To beat her on the Tuesday.

Version one of a traditional English

nursery rhyme

Cover Page

Title Page The Crippled Angel Book Three of the Crucible Trilogy

Dedication The Crippled Angel is dedicated, fittingly, to the bestest bunch of Apostolic Wreakers of Havoc ever: Alana, Corey, Craig, Elizabeth, Justin, Karmela, Mark C, Matt, Matthew, Michelle J, Michelle L, Patrick, Tanya and particularly to Tracey who has so obligingly taken over the reins of Tyranny whenever I felt a tad fragile. Thank you all so much for your help . With thanks to Rachel Smallman for her vision of heaven, and to Stephanie Smith and all the team at HarperCollins Publishers Australia for seeing me through to the end of another trilogy.

Epigraph He married his wife on Sunday Beat her well on Monday, Bad was she on Tuesday, Middling was she on Wednesday, Worse was she on Thursday, Dead was she on Friday; Glad was he on Saturday night, To bury his wife on Sunday, And take a new wife on Monday, To beat her on the Tuesday. Version one of a traditional English nursery rhyme

Prologue Friday 1st March 1381

PART ONE WINDSOR

I Tuesday 30th April 1381

II Friday 3rd May 1381

III Saturday 4th May 1381—i—

IV Saturday 4th May 1381—ii—

V Saturday 4th May 1381—iii—

VI Saturday 4th May 1381—iv—

VII Friday 17th May 1381

PART TWO The Dog of Pestilence

I Tuesday 21st May 1381—i—

II Tuesday 21st May 1381—ii—

III Tuesday 21st May 1381—iii—

IV Thursday 23rd May 1381

V Friday 24th May 1381—i—

VI Friday 24th May 1381—ii—

VII Friday 24th May 1381—iii—

VIII Sunday 26th May 1381—i—

IX Sunday 26th May 1381—ii—

X Sunday 26th May 1381—iii—

XI Monday 27th May 1381—i—

XII Monday 27th May 1381—ii—

XIII Monday 27th May 1381—iii—

XIV Monday 27th May 1381—iv—

PART THREE Shrewsbury

I Wednesday 29th May 1381

II Thursday 30th May 1381

III Sunday 2nd June 1381

IV Wednesday 5th June 1381—i—

V Wednesday 5th June 1381—ii—

VI Thursday 6th June 1381

VII Sunday 16th June 1381

VIII Monday 17th June 1381

IX Tuesday 18th June 1381

X Wednesday 19th June 1381

XI Thursday 27th June 1381—i—

XII Thursday 27th June 1381—ii—

XIII Saturday 29th June 1381

PART FOUR The Crippled Angel

I Sunday 30th June 1381

II Friday 26th July 1381

III Tuesday 30th July 1381

IV Monday 5th August 1381

V Wednesday 7th August 1381

VI Thursday 8th August 1381

VII Monday 12th August 1381—i—

VIII Monday 12th August 1381—ii—

IX Thursday 15th August 1381—i—

X Thursday 15th August 1381—ii—

XI Thursday 15th August 1381—iii—

PART FIVE Agincourt

I Friday 16th August 1381—i—

II Friday 16th August 1381—ii—

III Monday 19th August 1381 (Night)

IV Tuesday 20th August 1381—i—

V Tuesday 20th August 1381—ii—

VI Tuesday 20th August 1381—iii—

VII Tuesday 20th August 1381—iv—

VIII Tuesday 20th August 1381—v—

IX Tuesday 20th August 1381—vi—

X Wednesday 21st August 1381 (Night)

XII Thursday 22nd August 1381 (Evening)

XII Saturday 31st August 1381

XIII Saturday 31st August 1381 (Night)

XIV Sunday 1st September 1381

PART SIX Mary

I Friday 6th September 1381

II Monday 9th September 1381

III Tuesday 10th September 1381

PART SEVEN Christ among Us

I Tuesday 10th September 1381 continued…

II Monday 16th September 1381

III Thursday 17th October 1381

IV Friday 18th October 1381

V Saturday 31st May 1382 (8 months later)

Glossary

About the Author

By Sara Douglass

Copyright

About the Publisher

The chamber was close and warm, its windows closed, its air thick with the scent of herbs.

There was silence, save for the moans of the woman squatting between two midwives before the roaring fire in the hearth.

The woman giving birth was naked; her skin gleamed with sweat, while her unbound hair had soaked into glistening strings clinging to her shoulders and back. The midwives bent over her, holding bunches of soothing herbs close to her nostrils and open mouth, rubbing the small of her back encouragingly.

They did not murmur instructions to her, for Marie was of their own and knew what was happening both to her own body and to the baby it was trying to expel.

Two other women stood half shadowed on each side of the shuttered windows. To one side stood Catherine of France, daughter of the insane Louis and the adventurous Isabeau de Bavière, her attention as much on her silent companion as on the labouring Marie.

Slightly distanced from her stood Joan of Arc, Maid of France, staring intently at the woman struggling to give birth. Her face, if possible, was even more tortured than that of Marie.

She was terrified of what Marie was about to birth.

Joan had spent these past seven months since Charles’ crowning at Rheims cathedral in a fugue of despair. This despair was not caused by Charles’ stubborn refusal to move from Rheims, or to do anything which might be construed even vaguely warlike, but by the swelling of Marie’s body. Indeed, Joan’s despair had increased in direct proportion to the escalating distention of Marie’s belly. Marie might not know how her child had been conceived, or who had put it in her, but Joan had a very good idea, and she knew that if the child confirmed her suspicions then she would have no choice but to abandon her crusade for the Archangel Michael.

How could she serve an angel who so callously used women’s sleeping bodies? Who was so inherently flawed? So inherently sinful? And so arrogant in that sinfulness?

“See?” said Catherine conversationally, very well aware of Joan’s distress. “The baby is about to be born.”

Joan jerked, an almost inaudible moan escaping her mouth. She wished she could tear her eyes from Marie, or run from the room, but she could do neither. She prayed meaninglessly, futilely—for she was not sure to whom she could pray—that somehow the actuality of Marie’s child would prove the archangel’s innocence.

But in Joan’s innermost being she knew that was impossible.

In her innermost being, Joan knew that the archangel had put that child inside Marie.

And in her very few, most painfully honest moments, Joan knew that the archangel had lied and abused and manipulated her even more grossly than he had Marie.

All Marie had to do was endure the agony necessary to birth his child.