The Eloquence of Blood

Table of Contents

 

 

“Amazing . . . Ms. Rock takes you back to fascinating and dangerous seventeenth-century Paris so well that I suspect her of being a time-traveler who's been there.”

—Ariana Franklin, national bestselling author of
Mistress of the Art of Death

 

“Rich with telling detail and a deep feeling for time and place.”

—Margaret Frazer, national bestselling author of
The Witch's Tale

 

“Rock skillfully builds her suspense plot, all the while incorporating splendid detail of seventeenth-century Parisian monastic and street life and the relationship between church and Crown, along with the intricate political and religious conflicts of the era. She proves herself a promising new talent by creating this powerful, absorbing, complex, and thoroughly satisfying novel.”

—
Historical Novels Review
(editor's choice)

 

“[A] superb historical debut . . . With an experienced writer's ease, Rock incorporates details of the political issues of the day into a suspenseful story line. Fans of Brother Cadfael, another military man turned priest sleuth, will be pleased.”

—
Publishers Weekly
(starred review)

 

“Rich with historical detail . . . meticulously researched. [Rock] captures a city and time that is lively, dangerous, and politically charged, and makes it sing.... [Her] fine eye for historic detail and well-drawn characters will continue to engage readers.”

—
Kirkus Reviews
(starred review)

“Rock brings firsthand knowledge of dance, choreography, acting, police investigation, and teaching to what is hopefully the beginning of a mystery series . . . [A] fascinating historical mystery . . . Plenty of derring-do and boyish mischief sprinkled into the plot make this a fun read, and Charles's thought-provoking struggles as he questions his vocation lend added depth. A fine counterpart to S. J. Parris's suspenseful historical mystery novel,
Heresy
, which dramatizes religious strife in an earlier era, and similar in theme to P. D. James's
Death in Holy Orders
, Rock's novel boasts a style all its own and is sure to satisfy those eager for a great new historical mystery.”

—
Booklist
(starred review)

“Rock is an exciting new discovery. Her plotting holds your interest, her characters are real, and her attention to details of the time period is extraordinary. Highly recommended for fans of historical thrillers and readers who enjoy Ellis Peters, Edward Marston, and Ariana Franklin.”

—
Library Journal
(starred review)

THE RHETORIC OF DEATH
THE ELOQUENCE OF BLOOD

THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
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This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Copyright © 2011 by Judith Rock.

“Readers Guide” copyright © by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

 

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PRINTING HISTORY

Berkley trade paperback edition / September 2011

 

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

 

Rock, Judith.

The eloquence of blood / Judith Rock. p. cm.

ISBN : 978-1-101-54419-8

1. Collège Louis-le-Grand (Paris, France)—Fiction. 2. Jesuits—Fiction. 3. Young women—Crimes against—Fiction. 4. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. 5. France—History—17th century—Fiction. I. Title.

PS3618.O3543E56 2011

813'.6—dc22 2011014289

 

 

Though writing is solitary work, it takes many people to create a book. Heartfelt thanks to all of them: Patricia Ranum and John Padberg, S.J., historians who helped with research and set me straight on many seventeenth-century questions; my hawkeyed team of readers who vetted the manuscript-in-progress: Lydia Veliko, Damaris Rowland (my incomparable agent), John Padberg, and my husband, Jay, who also created the map of Paris; Shannon Jamieson Vazquez (my incomparable editor), who takes what I think is a finished manuscript, finds the holes, and fixes them. Any errors that remain are mine alone.

And thanks especially to all who read
The Rhetoric of Death
, Charles's first adventure, and told me they wanted more!

CHRISTMAS EVE
1686

 

U
nder a sky the gray of slushy puddles, the afternoon was fading to an early dusk. Silence lay like a glaze of ice over the college of Louis le Grand and its motley façade of stone, plaster, and brick, its honeycomb of courtyards, its slate-roofed towers and gables. Then a door banged open and a flood of boys poured into the Cour d'honneur, the school's vast main courtyard, followed by two black-cloaked Jesuits. Most of the students started warming games of chase, but two fourteen-year-olds, trailed by a younger boy, sped to the chapel.

“I somehow doubt that those three have been struck by an urge to prayer,” Maître Charles du Luc said dryly to his companion. “Shall I go and see?”

Père Thomas Damiot nodded, laughing. “I think you will find them searching diligently for an
answer
to prayer.”

Huddling into his cloak, Charles crossed the windy courtyard to the always-open chapel door and stopped unnoticed on the threshold. A little way inside, the three boys were gathered around the stone clamshell that held holy water.

“It's frozen!” one of the older boys said jubilantly. “Oh, thank the Blessed Virgin!” He bent his knee hurriedly toward the altar and crossed himself.

But the other was poking a skeptical finger at the skim of ice on the water. “It's not frozen enough.”

The first speaker turned and stared at the shattered ice skim. “Oh, Venus's bosoms!”

Round-eyed at the daring oath and shivering so hard his teeth chattered, the smallest boy stood on tiptoe to peer into the shell. “
Quid—quem—
um—” Giving up trying to speak Latin, as the older boys were doing and the college rules required, he whispered in French, “When
is
it frozen enough?”

Allowances being admissible for the as yet un-Latined, the oath swearer descended to French. “When you can skate on it. Then we stay indoors for recreation.”

“Skate on that?” The little one stared in bewilderment at the holy water. “How?”

“Figure of speech, dunce!”

“He hasn't had rhetoric,” the other fourteen-year-old said mildly. “And anyway, what you said
isn't
a figure of speech.” He frowned. “Is it?”

“Who cares? It's Christmas vacation! Come on, race you!”

Deciding that he hadn't heard the oath, Charles swallowed his laughter, stepped quickly aside from the doorway, and pretended to study the complex set of sundials on the tallest tower. A pointless exercise under the cloud blanket, but he was well aware that students expected professors to do pointless things. The older boys ran past him with barely a glance. The little one plodded after them, absorbed in pulling his wide-brimmed hat down over his ears, and went to join a game of tag.

“I take it their prayer is still unanswered,” Damiot said, joining Charles.

“Is that the rule? They can't stay indoors until the holy water freezes solid?”

“Certainly it is the rule. Ah, there they are.” Damiot nodded toward the pair of courtyard proctors arriving to oversee this first recreation for students spending the Christmas break in the college. “Now we can go. And we'd better make speed to St. Louis, or Père Pinette will have our heads.”