I am gratified that The Domesday Book (No, Not That One) is being so well received. It appears to be in the Kindle charts around the world as a book of humour and of historical fiction. That it is not yet on the syllabus of University History degrees I can only put down to the controversial nature of its content.

It is such an academic work that it even has a map, the original of which hangs on the wall of the Scriptorium; just above the autograph of The Venerable Bede, which was sold to me by a rather doubtful chap in a market.

Meanwhile work continues on the interpretation of the next collection of Brother Hermitage manuscripts. From what I have deciphered so far, the good monk and his companion Wat are to be dispatched into the heart of the enemy to investigate some murder or other. I have thus imaginatively titled the work ‘Hermitage, Wat and Some Murder or Other.’

The rather pushy fellow who claims to be my agent says that I should come up with something more lively. He suggested “The Great Medieval Death Fest”, but I must confess I baulked at this, despite his assurances that it would “grab the audience” – which sounds both distasteful and unnecessary.

He tells me the ‘genre’ of medieval historical investigation is a cut throat business, often quite literally, and that I need to punch above my weight, whatever that may mean. I insisted that rigorous academic analysis would be more than sufficient, which he said was all well and good but was never very funny.

I know Hermitage and Wat do demonstrate some humour, but that’s hardly the point. He said not to worry as he would sort it all out in the edit.
I am ashamed to say the conversation became rather heated after that and I had to invite him to leave, which he appeared only too happy to do. He is never comfortable in the scriptorium, preferring the luxuries of soft seating, heating and the like.

I hardly dare tell the man that I have discovered yet another tale involving Hermitage, which appears to involve the Druids of all things. He will only get excited so perhaps I had better keep it to myself for now.

Howard
Warwick
February

I have unearthed remarkable evidence concerning the aftermath of the Battle of Hastings. The Immediate aftermath. Like the first fifteen minutes. Something went horribly wrong and Duke William of Normandy was not best pleased.

It seems that in the course of the battle he lost something, something very precious and private, something so precious and private no one must even know it was missing. It had to be retrieved and retreived quickly. Only William, his hard hearted man Le Pedvin, and a Norman of little note called Martel, seemed to be in on the secret.

William sent them on a mission to recover what was lost and bring it back before anyone noticed. To disguise the nature of their task he engaged Ranulf de Sauveloy, a remarkably organised and meticulous Norman who was, as a result, widely reviled, and a Saxon called Cnud Mabbut, who supposedly knew his way round the country.

They set off from the battlefield in the dark of night on this vital expedition but trouble was also coming from the North.

I have entitled the piece the Domesday Book, (No, Not That one) to avoid any confusion.

Unfortunately it will challenge modern thinking about the Battle and will have historians up and down the country throwing their slide rules at the radio.

At last! I am gratified that The Tapestry of Death has found its way to Mr Amazon’s Electronic Bookshop. However, I am worried that this agent fellow has made a number of editorial changes which may not sit well with the academic themes of the work. He keeps referring to humour and comedy and how funny the book is, which worries me no end.  http://www.amazon.co.uk/Tapestry-Chronicles-Brother-Hermitage-ebook/dp/B00E1LP9NM/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374312562&sr=1-3

He assures me he knows these things best, I should leave it all to him and get on with the next book.

We did though commission the most charming image for the front cover of the book from Adam Fisher, www. fisherart.co.uk. It does go to illustrate the constant threat of death which hung over everyone around the time of the Norman conquest.

With The Heretics, The Garberobe and The Tapestry of Death all published, the agent tells me I have written a trilogy – which apparently is a good thing. He says the next trilogy will be even better received. I told him in no uncertain terms that there was nowhere near enough material to construct three more books, when lo and behold he arrived with a trunk full of manuscript which he says he found in a skip, or a loft or somewhere. The cheeky fellow has even suggested titles.

I shall ignore him for the time being and press on with my remarkable researches into the hours and days immediately after the Battle of Hastings. It is a most illuminating tale and reveals an earlier version of the Domesday Book. I am using this as the working title but the agent has appended it to “The Domesday Book (No, Not That One)”, as he said it would cause confusion and then went on and on about copyright or some such. I assured him that the original Domesday Book must be well out of copyright by now and which point he said the original title wasn’t very funny – which was hardly the point.

Anyway, I have locked the door of the scriptorium to stop the fellow getting in and will press on.