To Pluck A Crow
- Publisher
- Renaissance Press
- Initial publish date
- Mar 2018
- Category
- Historical, Medieval
-
Paperback / softback
- ISBN
- 9781987963304
- Publish Date
- Mar 2018
- List Price
- $18.00
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Description
Do we truly know who Shakespeare was? Could the plays and sonnets have been written by more than one person? This historical mystery revolves around two possible candidates, Mary Sidney Herbert and her famous brother, Sir Philip Sidney, poet and courtier, in the court of Elizabeth I. Born in the same era as William Shakespeare, their lives were as real as his, and the three may even have met. Their story interweaves with the modern tale of Sarah and Janek, as they explore modern day London and the British countryside, searching for clues to prove Mary and Philip Sidney's contributions to the works of Shakespeare, a thesis one of them very much believes in. They are not alone. Two unidentified "watchers" are following them, hoping to discourage their search or to steal whatever information they find. After many dangerous adventures, their quest leads them to Carisbrooke Castle on the Isle of Wight, where another mystery awaits them.
About the author
Sue Taylor-Davidson lives in Ottawa. Her life has been full and happy, with a wonderful husband and 3 great step-children, a large extended family, commitment to Aboriginal issues, research jobs, library work, babies, animals (specifically cats), editing, NGOs dedicated to education and library development, lots of gardening, knitting, Shakespeare research, reading, art and writing. She loves people and sings in a community choir. Her education is diverse, ranging from health studies, theology, Native studies, library science and early childhood education.
Excerpt: To Pluck A Crow (by (author) Sue Taylor-Davidson)
Mary Sidney, on her favourite horse, Speedwell, had long since outpaced the boys. Her only mistake was to look over her shoulder to see how far behind they were. She turned her head just in time to see the approaching crest of a hill and to feel the horse beneath her stiffen and rear up. She was flung forward, neck crooked, feet in the air, legs flailing. Head over heels, she hit the ground, tall cocksfoot grass scratched at her face, and her long red hair flew about. Feet over, the sky and clouds circling above, her arms and hands outstretched, Mary clamoured for a finger hold. She slid along the damp earth, meadow rue and chamomile flowers crushed beneath her. Pain. Her knees and elbows burned, and as one arm made harsh contact with a bush, she came to an abrupt stop, rolled to one side and over onto her back. The clouds moved in a dizzying curve, the world turned much faster than it ought. She closed her eyes and waited.
Philip reached the crest, sprung from his horse and dropped to his knees, panting. He should never have given in to his sympathetic instinct to let her win. Why had he allowed her to pass him?
Crying out, "Mary, are you hurt?" he scrambled, half sliding, half galloping down the slope. He reached her and lightly touched her shoulder. She opened her eyes, tried to sit up, and failed as pain shot through both knees.
"Are you harmed, Mary?" So anxious, so caring. She smiled up at him, but his face swayed as the sky rotated in another long arc.
"I got here first!" she whispered, and closed her eyes.
Two other riders by now had reached the crest of the hill. They watched as Philip gently lifted her head into the crook of his arm.
"Shall we run for help?" one shouted down. Philip looked worried.
"Fetch the cart and mare! Go quickly!" They were off.
Opening her eyes once more, she frowned, "You are being dramatic again! I'm as good as gold!" She sat up, tried to bend a knee and let a cry escape. The white petticoat and smock were covered with smears of green and brown, mixed now with bright red.
"Thank Providence that Mother is with Elizabeth!" was her only thought. Though tears tickled her eyelids, she would not let them fall. If she wanted to be one of them, there would be no room for self-pity.
