A Poisoned Chalice: The new Sister Agnes story

Sister Agnes, for those that don’t know her, is a nun; contemporary, in an open order, based in South London.  She is a detective. And, in the archetypal mode of the amateur detective, she finds herself on the outside of things, privy to people’s secrets. In the words of a lovely police officer who has helped me on and off with my research, ‘There’s always someone who knows more than we do.’

In the time of Sherlock Holmes, it was easier for an amateur sleuth to know more than the police.  But now, with CCTV, mobile phone tracking, and highly developed forensic science, the expertise of the amateur detective is distilled into that one central point: being the repository of other people’s secrets.  And, as Sister Agnes works in a hostel for homeless young people, that is exactly what she is.

The new novel starts with a young woman appearing on the hostel doorstep asking if they’ve seen her husband, a young man on the wrong side of the law who has now gone missing. This one simple event widens out into a much bigger mystery, concerning a medieval silver cup known as the Judas chalice, a priceless, possibly stolen, artefact belonging to one of the old catholic families. It is extremely rare due to its depiction of the betrayal of Jesus by Judas Iscariot, the thirteenth apostle – so rare, in fact, that someone is prepared to kill for it.

I’ve always liked the classic detective structure – an all-knowing central character through which the story is told, with a Marple or a Maigret or a Marlowe at the heart of it. It allows a three-way relationship between author, reader and detective, all sharing the fun of engaging with the story together. The challenge is to make sure the reveal comes as a surprise while at the same time allowing the reader to walk hand in hand with the detective in solving the mystery.

But I also try, in my work, to bear witness to the harm that humans do.  People look at Golden Age crime fiction and make the mistake of seeing it as lightweight, as a historical romp in the company of Sayers, Allingham, Christie et al.  But as far she was concerned, Agatha Christie was writing The Modern Novel. And, having lived through a world war, she needed to talk about human pain, human damage, in a very particular way.   For some time, I have circled the idea that as a nun, Sister Agnes will at some point have to tackle the harm of which the church itself is capable, where its huge and powerful influence collides with its dangerous obsession with sex, shame and sin.

Sister Agnes, like many fictional detectives, is a person of contradictions. She has religious faith and yet is constantly beset by doubt; she accepts the unsolvable mystery of a God, and yet the mystery of a killing on her doorstep is there to be solved with careful attention to evidence, to science, to reason.

This new novel, A Poisoned Chalice, is the first of two brand new Sister Agnes novels

A Poisoned Chalice is the eighth in the new series published by Joffe, (with seven of the earlier novels republished under new names).  It has been a delight to be back with her, and also with her two best friends, Athena and Father Julius, who accompany her through the story in their own particular ways, Athena with shopping, clothes, cake and fizzy wine – and Julius with his own particular and difficult challenge.

The problem of evil may be preached from a pulpit, but what happens if that evil is within the church, rather than something external to be fought by the might of the faithful? And how does someone of faith continue within a structure that is so warped, so potentially malign?

Sister Agnes, walking the streets of South London, will find herself wrestling with all these questions.

 A Poisoned Chalice by Alison Joseph (Joffe Books) Out Now

Meet Sister Agnes. She’s not your typical nun. She loves killer shoes, sipping prosecco — and solving mysteries . . . A holy grail . . . or a poisoned chalice?
Agnes has never met Jay Sorrell. But she knows his type. Tall, dark and dangerously magnetic. A Catholic boy turned petty criminal, he’s not one to play by the rules. Now he’s vanished, leaving his wife to hunt for him at Agnes’s homeless shelter. But the search ends in tragedy. Late one night, Agnes wakes to the sound of sirens — and the acrid smell of smoke. St Bruno’s church is burning. Agnes races to the scene, in time to see a body being pulled from the smoking ruins. This is no random John Doe. It’s Jay. Whoever lit the fatal match must have known . . . Down in the ruined crypt, a safe gapes open. Was this the hiding place of the fabled Judas chalice? A priceless heirloom that’s been missing for decades. Some would kill to lay hands on this prize. And if Jay happened to be standing in the way of that . . . ? Agnes won’t stop until she uncovers the truth about Jay’s death and the missing treasure. But once she’s sipped from this deadly cup, there’s no going back . . 

You can find more about Alison Joseph and her books on her website. You can also follow her on X @AlisonJoseph1

Photograph of Alison Joseph ©Hugo Glendinning

Depending on the kindness of history by Steven Veerapen

Sometimes history can be kind to novelists. Occasionally, characters suggest themselves and, even more rarely, the historical record presents us with themes and ideas we’re already hoping to explore. History was very kind to me as I set about writing a Tudor-era murder mystery. Not only was Henry VIII’s suspicion-filled, blood-soaked royal court tailor made for intrigue, dark deeds and skulking figures, but the record of his reign threw up exactly the type of character who might work as a detective. 

In studying the 1511 Westminster Tournament Roll, which captured in a series of images the celebratory jousts held to welcome Henry’s short-lived son, the “New Year’s Prince” into the world, I encountered a figure who has recently come under serious scholarly scrutiny. John Blanke - a tiny figure depicted twice, blowing his trumpet from the vellum margins of the narrative images - has the distinction of being one of the first (if not the first) black people in England whose name was recorded. Thus, he has recently sparked interest as scholars have scrambled to discover how he came to be depicted as a member (albeit a minor one) of Henry’s court, and how he came to be in England at all. The consensus is that he probably arrived with the retinue of Henry’s first wife, Katherine of Aragon (who hailed from a united Spain which had conquered the “Moors” and begun transporting slaves from North Africa).

John’s story, however, wasn’t mine to tell. Again, though, history was kind; not only did John marry but he probably married an Englishwoman (we know, for example, that he was given gifts from the Tudors on the occasion of his wedding and that he had the clout to ask for higher wages - and there is no record of any black women in England during his time in service). As he disappears from the record in the late 1510s, I was left with - if you’ll excuse the pun - a blank.

I was also left with an idea. If John Blanke married an Englishwoman, it is possible - even likely - that the aim was to produce children (marriages in the period being generally more for the purposes of procreation than love or companionship). Any resulting child, born of two races, had a story I knew I could tell. Suddenly, given my own heritage (my mum being from Pollok and my dad from Mauritius!), I had a character I knew I could write - and one with ties, via his father, to the court of Henry VIII.

Devising and plotting any murder mystery relies on the construction of a detective figure, whether an amateur or a professional: we all know Holmes, Miss Marple, Hercule Poirot, and Lord Peter Wimsey. If writing a mystery set in the sixteenth century, one is virtually forced to go down the amateur route; there was no police force in Tudor England and there were no professional detectives.

What there was, however, was a great deal of law (even if it seems there was often very little justice). Henry VIII’s England, indeed, had officers at every level: urban aldermen; city watchmen (often respectable homeowners who farmed out the actual work to inferiors); local justices of the peace; constables; march wardens; churchwardens (who worked in and with ecclesiastical courts, whose jurisdiction covered spiritual crimes, such as adultery); and coroners (who were appointed rather than trained, and who held juried inquests into unexplained deaths). Yet the actual grind of investigative work was essentially up for grabs; a killer was, in all likelihood, going to get away with his or her crimes if those questioned at the inquest stage either fingered the wrong person or had no idea how a victim came to die. In order to be caught, a murderer very often had to be caught in the act or to have left a clear trail of evidence.

Into this confused world I launched Anthony Blanke, son of John, who follows in his father’s footsteps in working for the great (if not the good) in the 1520s – these the boon days of Henrician England, when Reformation was only distantly on the horizon. Once again, history – particularly that Westminster Tournament Roll – was good to me. On looking at it again, it struck me that a marginal figure (as Anthony Blanke would have to be, in various ways) was best placed to observe the comings and goings at his master, Cardinal Wolsey’s court. What better figure than a trumpeter, paid to be heard and not seen, and to lurk in alcoves and doorways, to spot shady dealings and piece together clues? I hope those who read “Of Blood Descended” find him and his world as much fun as I did.

 Of Judgment Fallen by Steven Veerapen (Birlinn General) Out Now

Spring, 1523. Henry VIII readies England for war with France. The King’s chief minister, Cardinal Wolsey, prepares to open Parliament at Blackfriars. The eyes of the country turn towards London. But all is not well in Wolsey’s household. A visiting critic of the Cardinal is found brutally slain whilst awaiting an audience at Richmond Palace. He will not be the last to die. Anthony Blanke, trumpeter and groom, is once again called upon to unmask a murderer. Joining forces with Sir Thomas More, he is forced to confront the unpopularity of his master’s rule. As the bodies of the Cardinal’s enemies mount up around him, Anthony finds himself under suspicion. Journeying through the opulence of More’s home, the magnificence of Wolsey’s York Place, and the dank dungeons of London’s gaols, he must discover whether the murderer of the Cardinal’s critics is friend or foe. With time running out before Parliament sits, Anthony must clear his name and catch the killer before the King’s justice falls blindly upon him.

More information about Steven Veerapen and his books can be found on his website. You can also follow him on X @stevenveerapen.