出版社周刊评论
The Hundred Years War is the bloody backdrop to this second volume of Cornwell's new series about the search for the Holy Grail (after The Archer's Tale). Like its predecessor, the novel follows Thomas of Hookton, an archer in the English army in the 14th century. Thomas is the bastard son of a recently murdered priest whose family claims it once possessed the Holy Grail. No one is certain the Holy Grail actually exists, but many believe it does, and kings are waging war and committing murder in the search for it. Thomas has a book of his father's, written in Latin and Hebrew, which might reveal clues to the Grail's location, if only he could make head or tails of it. But others are aware of the book's existence, and Thomas's motley enemies and rivals-including Guy Vexille, the French cousin who murdered his father; Bernard de Taillebourg, a Dominican Inquisitor who loves his job; and Sir Geoffrey Carr, a treacherous English knight-are all hot on his trail. The beleaguered young hero must also fight mercenaries, Scots and Frenchmen in gruesome, long-drawn-out battles. Cornwell is meticulous about historical facts and period detail, and his descriptions of butchery with arrow, mace and battleaxe are nothing if not convincing. As expected, the book culminates with battlefield slaughter on an epic scale. Cornwell fans will eat this up. (Dec. 1) Forecast: Cornwell's Richard Sharpe novels are justly popular, and this new series looks headed for similar success, backed by a strong marketing campaign. (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Kirkus评论
Continuing the series that began with The Archer's Tale (2001), adventure master Cornwell throws his lusty young hero Thomas of Hookton up against both the French and the Inquisition. Opening with a fine small battle on the Scottish border, Cornwell continues his historically based, wildly entertaining trek through the Hundred Years War, a tale that hangs on the adventures of a superb English bowman at a time when English longbows pretty much ruled the battlefield. Thomas, last seen at the battle of Crecy, has trudged up north with orders from Edward Plantagenet to see a monk in Durham about a legend. The legend is The Grail, and Thomas is involved because his priestly father Ralph de Vexille, a French fugitive, left him a multilingual diary full of references to the sacred vessel. The Vexilles believed they had possession of the cup, and the diary may lead to its recovery. Oxford dropout Thomas can read his father's Latin and a bit of the Greek, but the Hebrew's got him stumped. Marching with the lad are his pregnant sweetheart and a kindly monk, both doomed to die at the hands of the divinely sinister Dominican inquisitor Bernard de Taillebourg, who, with his dark and moody servant Guy de Trexille (Thomas's psychotic cousin), lusts after the diary. Before Thomas can get his answers he's roped into an English skirmish with raiding Scots. Encouraged by their French allies, the savage northerners have massed in huge numbers, but their drums and battle-axes are no match for the handful of archers Tom joins. Thomas makes an enemy of a nasty bankrupt knight and poor Eleanor falls victim to the sadistic de Taillebourg, but Thomas survives to continue his quest for the grail accompanied by cheerful prisoner Robbie Douglas. Their travels, always just a few steps ahead of the damned Dominican and the jealous Sir Geoffrey, take them to Brittany, scene of earlier romance, where the English have a tenuous toehold and where de Taillebourg has equally perfidious allies. There will be torture, siege, and treachery. Historically accurate and huge fun. Vintage Cornwell.
《图书馆杂志》(Library Journal )书评
Cornwell here picks up where his successful The Archer's Tale left off, taking young Thomas of Hookton on shipboard for a little naval warfare even as he continues his quest for the man who murdered his father and stole a priceless relic. (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
摘录
Vagabond Chapter One It was October, the time of the year's dying when cattle were being slaughtered before winter and when the northern winds brought a promise of ice. The chestnut leaves had turned golden, the beeches were trees of flame and the oaks were made from bronze. Thomas of Hookton, with his woman, Eleanor, and his friend, Father Hobbe, came to the upland farm at dusk and the farmer refused to open his door, but shouted through the wood that the travelers could sleep in the byre. Rain rattled on the moldering thatch. Thomas led their one horse under the roof that they shared with a woodpile, six pigs in a stout timber pen and a scattering of feathers where a hen had been plucked. The feathers reminded Father Hobbe that it was St. Gallus's day and he told Eleanor how the blessed saint, coming home in a winter's night, had found a bear stealing his dinner. "He told the animal off!" Father Hobbe said. "He gave it a right talking-to, he did, and then he made it fetch his firewood." "I've seen a picture of that," Eleanor said. "Didn't the bear become his servant?" "That's because Gallus was a holy man," Father Hobbe explained. "Bears wouldn't fetch firewood for just anyone! Only for a holy man." "A holy man," Thomas put in, "who is the patron saint of hens." Thomas knew all about the saints, more indeed than Father Hobbe. "Why would a chicken want a saint?" he inquired sarcastically. "Gallus is the patron of hens?" Eleanor asked, confused by Thomas's tone. "Not bears?" "Of hens," Father Hobbe confirmed. "Indeed of all poultry." "But why?" Eleanor wanted to know. "Because he once expelled a wicked demon from a young girl." Father Hobbe, broad-faced, hair like a stickleback's spines, peasant-born, stocky, young and eager, liked to tell stories of the blessed saints. "A whole bundle of bishops had tried to drive the demon out," he went on, "and they had all failed, but the blessed Gallus came along and he cursed the demon. He cursed it! And it screeched in terror" -- Father Hobbe waved his hands in the air to imitate the evil spirit's panic -- "and then it fled from her body, it did, and it looked just like a black hen -- a pullet. A black pullet." "I've never seen a picture of that," Eleanor remarked in her accented English, then, gazing out through the byre door, "but I'd like to see a real bear carrying firewood," she added wistfully. Thomas sat beside her and stared into the wet dusk, which was hazed by a small mist. He was not sure it really was St. Gallus's day for he had lost his reckoning while they traveled. Perhaps it was already St. Audrey's day? It was October, he knew that, and he knew that one thousand, three hundred and forty-six years had passed since Christ had been born, but he was not sure which day it was. It was easy to lose count. His father had once recited all the Sunday services on a Saturday and he had had to do them again the next day. Thomas surreptitiously made the sign of the cross. He was a priest's bastard and that was said to bring bad luck. He shivered. There was a heaviness in the air that owed nothing to the setting sun nor to the rain clouds nor to the mist. God help us, he thought, but there was an evil in this dusk and he made the sign of the cross again and said a silent prayer to St. Gallus and his obedient bear. There had been a dancing bear in London, its teeth nothing but rotted yellow stumps and its brown flanks matted with blood from its owner's goad. The street dogs had snarled at it, slunk about it and shrank back when the bear swung on them. "How far to Durham?" Eleanor asked, this time speaking French, her native language. "Tomorrow, I think," Thomas answered, still gazing north to where the heavy dark was shrouding the land. "She asked," he explained in English to Father Hobbe, "when we would reach Durham." "Tomorrow, pray God," the priest said. "Tomorrow you can rest," Thomas promised Eleanor in French. She was pregnant with a child that, God willing, would be born in the springtime. Thomas was not sure how he felt about being a father. It seemed too early for him to become responsible, but Eleanor was happy and he liked to please her and so he told her he was happy as well. Some of the time, that was even true. "And tomorrow," Father Hobbe said, "we shall fetch our answers." "Tomorrow," Thomas corrected him, "we shall ask our questions." "God will not let us come this far to be disappointed," Father Hobbe said, and then, to keep Thomas from arguing, he laid out their meager supper. "That's all that's left of the bread," he said, "and we should save some of the cheese and an apple for breakfast." He made the sign of the cross over the food, blessing it, then broke the hard bread into three pieces. "We should eat before nightfall." Darkness brought a brittle cold. A brief shower passed and after it the wind dropped. Thomas slept closest to the byre door and sometime after the wind died he woke because there was a light in the northern sky. He rolled over, sat up and he forgot that he was cold, forgot his hunger, forgot all the small nagging discomforts of life, for he could see the Grail. The Holy Grail, the most precious of all Christ's bequests to man, lost these thousand years and more, and he could see it glowing in the sky like shining blood and about it, bright as the glittering crown of a saint, rays of dazzling shimmer filled the heaven. Vagabond . Copyright © by Bernard Cornwell. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold. Excerpted from Vagabond: A Novel by Bernard Cornwell All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.