Coroner Sir John is caught up in a seafaring conspiracy in this entertaining instalment in the Crowner John medieval mystery series, set in twelfth-century England. 1196. When an unidentified body is discovered in the harbour town of Axmouth, twenty miles from Exeter, Sir John de Wolfe, the county coroner, is summoned to investigate. The manner of the young man's death is a matter of some dispute – but, as Sir John soon discovers, it was no accident. The victim did not drown, as the manor reeve alleges, but was strangled to death. In the ensuing murder investigation, Sir John is frustrated by what appears to be a conspiracy of silence among the seamen and townsfolk. Just what is the local population trying to hide? It soon becomes clear that some of Axmouth’s inhabitants will go to any lengths to ensure the shocking truth behind the death remains hidden. Sir John will need to muster all his courage, cunning and determination if he is to escape from the town alive . . .

Coroner Sir John gets mixed up in alchemy in this twisty instalment in the Crowner John medieval mystery series, set in twelfth-century England. 1195. Prince John plots to seize the throne from his brother, Richard the Lionheart – and he is supported in his wicked schemes by King Philip of France, who offers to help John financially by sending him a mysterious alchemist, a Mohammedan named Nizam, who claims to be able to transmute base metals into gold. But Nizam never makes it England alive. The ship transporting him and his retainers to the Devon tin mines is found wrecked off the south Devon coast, its crew savagely slaughtered. And shortly afterwards, Sir Peter le Calve, a Norman knight living near Exeter, is also found foully murdered, his head stuck on the rood screen of the cathedral. It's up to Sir John de Wolfe, the county coroner, to find a motive and connection between the killings – and it’s clear that his unscrupulous brother-in-law, the disgraced ex-sheriff and known Prince John-sympathiser, Richard de Revelle, has something to hide . . .