Candace Robb Returns to Medieval York in A Choir of Crows

Owen Archer’s twelfth tale captures the epic drama of 14^th century politics.

December, 1374. York city authorities are anxious about the upcoming enthronement of Alexander Neville as the new archbishop. Owen Archer, captain of the city bailiffs, is summoned to investigate when two bodies are discovered in the grounds of York Minster. Candace Robb brings her passion for York to this new page-turning crime thriller. She shared her thoughts about the latest installment in her long-running hit series with Library Journal.

Why did you set the Owen Archer series in Northern England? How would you describe the spirit of York?

My fiendishly clever scheme was to write about my favorite city so that I might have an excuse to frequent York both in the flesh and in my imagination. Fortunately for me, York was the second most important city in England in the 14^th century. It had a thriving merchant trade and an archbishop who was the second most powerful Churchman in the realm as well as serving as Lord Chancellor of England for a time. As to the spirit of York, it was (and is) a Northern city through and through: boisterous, irreverent, and with a streak of independence that proved challenging for the crown.

What’s the significance of the new archbishop’s enthronement to your series?

In medieval England, the Roman Catholic Church was essentially the state religion, and the archbishop of York one of the Lords Spiritual of the realm. The kings of England sought their advice and tried to influence the choice of successor. A Choir of Crows is set as Alexander Neville became archbishop of York. His powerful brother John Neville, king’s steward and Admiral of the North, used his influence to grab this post for his sibling. Prince Edward employs Owen Archer as his spy on the Northern lords, and John Neville and his brother Alexander will become his nemeses.

A Choir of Crows is the second Owen Archer mystery you’ve published after a decade-long hiatus. Have your feelings about the characters changed?

If anything, during the long pause I came to better know my characters and understand their significance in the series. For instance, Magda Digby’s role is more obviously as Owen’s spiritual guide. Lucie is far more confident in advising Owen. Brother Michaelo, a monk I’d written out of the series in A Vigil of Spies, insinuated himself in an early scene in A Conspiracy of Wolves with a hint of comic relief that enhanced it. His impertinence helped me see him in a new, much more favorable light.

In A Choir of Crows, one male character is open about having a male lover. What did your research reveal about medieval lives like his?

In The Apothecary Rose, a central detail in the mystery is a cleric’s obsessive love for a married man. Having researched attitudes and laws regarding homosexual relationships for the first book, I wanted to explore what life might have been like for a gay couple in The Lady Chapel. Homosexuality was condemned by the Church, so couples were forced into secrecy. In this book one of them risks exposure to save the other one’s life. I couch the attitudes of the characters in the realities of their time.

Lucie’s apothecary sells bonewort, lichen, sneezewort, bugle, coltsfoot, feltwort, sweet marjoram, and horehound. Have you tried any of these remedies?

When I began the series, I planted an extensive herb garden and experimented with my own herbal brews. I learned that plants available for gardens are often very weak versions of their ancestors, sweet marjoram and bugle, for instance. And those still effective often require elaborate processing. Write or create herbal remedies? I chose writing. I do still add horehound to my blends for a cough or sore throat, mint for digestion, and grind my own horseradish root—with the windows open.

In your book, all but one of the archdeacons in York are Italian clerics. Relatively speaking, who’s more powerful: a 14^th century pope or Mark Zuckerberg?

Hm… In medieval Europe the pope wielded authority over kings and emperors. One of his most powerful weapons was excommunication, which excluded the person from participation in the sacraments, denied him access to clergy for repair of his soul, forbade other Christians from engaging with him socially or commercially or they imperiled their souls. For a king, this jeopardized his authority as one ruling by divine right. In short, the pope could damn anyone, even rulers.

As far as I know, Zuckerberg does not wield such power over us. Does he?!

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