Murderous portents lie in the astral plane, and deadly reckonings wreak havoc in the human heart in this collection of sixteen original stories by such masterly mystery writers as Lawrence Block, Peter Lovesey, Peter Tremayne, Jon L. Breen, Edward Marston, Bill Crider, Simon Brett, and the internationally acclaimed Anne Perry.

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Featuring original stories by such contributors as Anne Perry, Lawrence Block, Sharyn McCrumb, Peter Lovesey, Marcia Muller, and Faye Kellerman, a gripping collection combines mystery with astrology and delves into the mystical omens and lethal reckonings that exist in the astral plane and profoundly impact the human heart. Reprint.

Death by Horoscope

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By Anne Perry

Carroll & Graf Publishers

Copyright © 2003 Anne Perry
All right reserved.
ISBN: 0786711531

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Introduction

Do you believe in horoscopes? No, neither do I, not really. Only when they tell me that I am unique and exciting and my destiny is full of wonderful things. That, of course, makes perfect sense, and I shall believe this one absolutely, and quit reading them while I am so far ahead—until next time! In case tomorrow tells me I am quite ordinary and must apply myself to all the daily trivia of life and attend to a pile of jobs I should catch up with, domestic chores and paying bills, etc.

    If your horoscope tells you to have fun, that a little relaxation and entertainment would be good for you—and if it doesn't, try another one—then take a little time out to read these stories of believers and unbelievers, light and shadow, humour, violence, love and hate. There is a terrific variety, but every one has vivid and individual writing. They are set in many different places, most in the present day, two earlier last century (1900's—not 1800's) and one medieval, but all have a zodiac core to bind them together. With some the thread is slender, no more than an artifact or an idea, with others it is an inescapable fate.

    Meet professional hitmen (more than one!) whose destiny is written in the stars, very funny, compelling, and one even carrying in it the seeds of redemption. Visit New York, Texas, Las Vegas with all the atmosphere and colour, none of the hard edges spared.

    Meet police officers who discover that astrologers come in all sorts of shapes and guises, with all the human passions and fallibilities of everyone else. They fall in love, they commit crimes, they get caught, sometimes they even get killed! Now why did they not see that coming? Or perhaps they did—but the stars are inescapable.

    Meet adventurers and profiteers by land and at sea, caught up in the tangle of belief and skepticism, love, greed, and the subtle plots of others. Meet would-be predators neatly enmeshed in their own snares, and lovers with the tables turned on them. You will hesitate to make a pass at a stranger, believe me!

    And if you are married and have thoughts of cheating on wife or mistress, the stars also look down on some fiendishly Machiavellian people who, when they believe themselves wronged can kill, and smile, and frame you for the crime.

    And of course there are lovers who are gentle and easy to like, who use knowledge of astrology in brilliant deduction. There is plenty of humour, dry or broad, open laughter, or the subtle smile of satisfaction at parody of the familiar, at wit and a sharp and joyous turn of phrase.

    Meet those who care passionately about the real stars, and the astronauts who journey towards them. Perhaps dream a little of what the future may bring, far beyond our own time.

    Or in the past! Astrology has been with us since we first looked up at the heavens and wondered who we are and where we came from, and if our lives are reflections of a greater plan. Vanity, greed and opportunism were with us in Medieval times as they are now.

    Spend a little time with wounded soldiers recovering in war-torn England. Immerse yourself in the atmosphere until you walk every step of the way with them, in their loves and loyalties, pities and beliefs.

    Or perhaps share the same emotions after the Great War, the soul-weariness of men who have seen too much horror, and the women who love them, the frightened, the greedy and the confused, in a world which will never be the same again.

    Whatever you believe of the stars, you believe in people, and here are scores of them in all their wealth of life—and death.

    Enjoy.

—Anne Perry
Ross-shire, Scotland
August 2001

Chapter One

The Astrologer Who
Predicted His Own Murder

A Sister Fidelma Mystery

Peter Tremayne

"I can appreciate why the Bishop has sent you to defend Abbot Rigán, Sister. However, I think that you will find this is an open and shut ease. The abbot is demonstrably guilty of the murder of Brother Eolang."

    Brehon Gormán was a tall, dark man, swarthy of complexion. He sat back regarding Sister Fidelma, seated across the table opposite him, with a look of cynical amusement. He had an arrogance of manner which irritated her. They were using the chamber of Brother Cass, the steward of the abbey of Fota, who stood nervously to one side.

    "As I understood the circumstances, there were no eyewitnesses. How, then, can the abbot be demonstrably guilty?" she asked coldly with an emphasis on the words he had used.

    The sharp faced Brehon smiled even more broadly. The smile made Fidelma feel a coldness at the nape of her neck. It had all the warmth of a shark about to snap at its prey.

    "Our law takes cognizance of the words of a man uttered before his death," remarked the Brehon in the manner of a teacher explaining something to a backward child.

    "I do not follow."

    "The victim named the abbot as his murderer before his death."

    Sister Fidelma was stunned into silence by his calm announcement.

    It had been only that morning when the Bishop of Cashel had called her into his chambers and asked her if she, being a dálaigh, an advocate of the courts, would undertake the defence of Abbot Rígán, whose abbey of Fota stood on an island in a nearby lake. The abbot had been accused of killing one of his own brethren. Brehon Gormán was to hear the case and it was known that Gormán was no lover of the religious. The Bishop of Cashel was concerned for the abbot, who, by all accounts, a man with a reputation for kindliness and largess, was a man whose good works had distinguished him among the brethren. However, the abbot was also known to be a man of strict obedience to the Rule of Rome which brought him into conflict with many of his fellow religious.

    The community of the Abbey of Fota was a small exclusive brotherhood of leather workers and a few scholars. They were a self-sufficient community. As protocol requested, Fidelma had introduced herself to the worried looking steward, Brother Cass, who had then introduced her to Brehon Gormán who had ensconced himself in the steward's chamber. She had asked to be informed of all the facts of the case.

    The facts seemed simple, according to the Brehon. Brother Eolang, a member of the community, had been found by the lake under a wooden landing pier. He had evidently been drowned but there was bruising and cuts to his head. The community's apothecary, Brother Cruinn, had expressed suspicion about the death. Brother Eolang had not been an elderly man. He was in the prime of his life and the bruising seemed to indicate that he had been struck on the forehead and pushed into the lake where he had drowned.

    Brother Gormán had been sent for. After some initial inquiries he had placed Abbot Rígán in custody pending a full trial.

    For a moment or two Fidelma sat gazing at Brehon Gormán in astonishment.

    "My understanding of what I have been told is that Brother Eolang was dead when he was discovered in the lake? Is this not so? But you say he was able to name the abbot as his killer. How was this miracle accomplished?"

    "He was certainly dead when his body was found," agreed the Brehon.

    "Then explain this riddle which you have set me."

    "It is quite simple. Brother Eolang told several of his brethren a week ago that he would be murdered on a particular day and that the abbot would be responsible."

    Fidelma found herself in the unusual position of being unable to comment for a moment or so. Then she shook her head in bewilderment, trying to control the growing sarcasm in her tone.

    "This is the evidence? He predicted he would be murdered by the abbot?"

    Brehon Gormán smiled again, even more coldly.

    "Brother Eolang also foretold the exact manner of his death," he added.

    "I think you need to explain more precisely, Brehon Gormán," Fidelma said. "Was Brother Eolang a prophet?"

    "It would appear so for we have the accusation and prediction written in Brother Eolang's own hand."

    Sister Fidelma sat back and folded her hands in her lap.

    "I am listening attentively to your explanation," she said quietly. "Please tell me the facts so that I do not make any assumptions."

    "There was no love lost between Abbot Rígán and Brother Eolang," replied the Brehon. "There are witnesses to several arguments between them. They arose because the abbot did not agree with some of Brother Eolang's beliefs and activities ..."

    Fidelma frowned, still feeling lost.

    "Activities? What activities?"

    "Brother Eolang was the assistant to the apothecary of the abbey and an adept at making speculations from the patterns of the stars."

    "Medicine and astrology were often twins in the practice of the physician's art," conceded Fidelma. "Its use is widespread throughout the five kingdoms of Éireann. Why was the abbot so condemning of the practice?"

    Fidelma herself had studied the art of star charts and their interpretation under Brother Conchobar of Cashel who had once told her that she would have made an excellent interpreter of the portents. However, Fidelma placed no great reliance on astrologers, for it was a science which seemed to rely solely on the interpretive ability of the individual. However, she did accept that much might be learnt from the wisest among them. The study of the heavens, nemgnacht, was an ancient art among the people of Éireann and most who could afford to do so, had a chart cast for the moment of their children's birth which was called nemindithib, a horoscope.

    The more ancient forms of astrology used by the Druids before the coming of Christianity had fallen out of use because the New Faith had also brought in new forms which were practised among the Greeks and Romans and originated in Babylon.

    "The abbot did not approve of astrology, Sister," interrupted the steward of the community, Brother Cass, who had been standing quietly by during the initial exchange. "The abbot disliked Brother Eolang on account of his practise of astrology. The abbot had read a passage in one of the Scriptures which denounced astrology and so he took his teaching from it. He tried to forbid its practice within our community."

    Fidelma smiled softly.

    "Forbidding anything is a sure way of encouraging it. I thought we were more tolerant in such matters? The art of the réaltóir, the astrologer, has been one that has its origins from the very time our ancestors first raised their eyes to the night sky. It is part of our way of life and even those who have accepted the New Faith have not rejected the fact that God put the stars in the sky for the obedience of fools and the guidance of the wise."

    There was a silence then Brother Cass spoke again.

    "Yet there was an animosity between Eolang and the abbot over this matter."

    "Over a week ago," commenced the Brehon, "according to certain members of the community, and as they will testify, Brother Eolang became so worried about the animosity that he cast a chart, what is a called a horary chart, to see if he was in any danger from the abbot. He did this because the abbot's language had grown quite violent in the denunciation of Brother Eolang's beliefs."

    Fidelma did not make any comment but waited for the Brehon to continue.

    "Eolang told certain of his comrades among the brethren that within a week from the time he had cast that chart, he would be dead. The chart, he said, showed that he was powerless against the abbot and would suffer death at his hands either by drowning or poisoning."

    Brehon Gormán sat back with a smile of triumph.

    Fidelma regarded him with some skepticism.

    "You appear to believe this."

    "I have seen the chart. I am an amateur in such things but my knowledge is such that the accuracy of the prediction becomes obvious. I shall accept it into evidence along with the testimony of those of the brethren to whom Brother Eolang discussed the meaning of it before his death."

    Fidelma considered the matter silently for a moment. Then she turned to Brother Cass.

    "Do you have someone available who could take a message to Cashel for me?"

    Brother Cass glanced at the Brehon, who frowned.

    "What do you propose, Sister Fidelma?"

    "Why, since this chart is apparently central to the abbot's supposed guilt, I would send to Cashel for an expert witness to verify its interpretation."

    "What expert witness?"

    "Doubtless, as someone who has dabbled in the art, you have heard of Brother Conchobar, the astrologer of Cashel? He was taught by the famous Mo Chuaróc mac Neth Sémon, the greatest astrologer that Cashel ever produced."

    The Brehon's frown deepened.

    "I have heard of Conchobar, of course. But do we need worry him when everything is so clear?"

    "Oh, for the sake of justice," smiled Fidelma, without humour, "we need to ensure that the abbot has the best defence and that implies someone who is an expert in the evidence against him. You have admitted to having only an amateur's knowledge. I also have but a passing knowledge so it is best to consult a real expert."

    The Brehon examined her features carefully. A suspicion crossed his mind as to whether she was being facetious. Then he glanced to Brother Cass and inclined his head in approval.

    "You may send for Brother Conchobar."

Continues...

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Excerpted from Death by Horoscope by Anne Perry Copyright © 2003 by Anne Perry. Excerpted by permission.
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"Fidelma placed no great reliance on astrologers, for it was a science which seemed to rely solely on the interpretive ability of the individual," says Peter Tremayne in the first entry in this all-original anthology of mystery stories on the common theme of reading the stars. A few tales later a character in Edward Marston's "The Sea Horse" says astrologers are "complete crooks." Even Edgar-winner Perry admits in her introduction that she doesn't believe in horoscopes unless "they tell me that I am unique and exciting and my destiny is full of wonderful things." Within those bounds of tolerance for the subject, most readers should find an attitude to sympathize with and a story or two to relish for its wit and good writing. Tremayne's contribution, for example, stars his wonderful creation, seventh-century Celtic nun Sister Fidelma, and as in his novels about her, he instantly plunges us into Fidelma's arcane but totally accessible world. In Marston's tale, a marvelously bitchy "yacht of fools" journey, the most sympathetic character (the astrologer) winds up dead. Jane Lindskold's "Slaying the Serpent" gives readers the always welcome thrill of outsmarting the detective, because they know in advance that the story's serial murders have something to do with astrology. Other tales from such reliables as Bill Crider, Peter Lovesey, Lawrence Block and Perry herself (a deft little period number called "The Blue Scorpion") add to the guilty pleasure the same one many of us get every morning by turning secretly to the horoscope page. (Aug. 10) Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.