Pan MacMillan, 2000 – out of
print in Australia

Available from
Amazon

In fourteenth-century Avignon, notary Raymond Maillot is hired by inquisitor Amiel de Semur to help with an investigation into a grisly murder. So begins a tale of debauchery, dismemberment and demonic visitation, which sees Raymond torn between his taste for irresponsible pleasures and his desire to find refuge in the church.

This title is still available in Germany (Rowohlt), Spain (Roca Editoria) and Portugal (Bertrand Editoria).

‘This splendidly subversive novel vividly imagines medieval ignorance, debauchery and prejudice in a world entirely in the grip of an implacable Church . . . Jinks combines bawdy Chaucerian humour with impressive religious learning and considerable knowledge of the period, all worn lightly: it’s a popular and intelligent mystery to wallow in with complete abandon.’
The Sydney Morning Herald

‘An astute eye for detail, both physical and emotional, and a wry ear for conversational nuance . . . she peoples her tale with credible characters, stirring in just enough action, mystery, mischief and intellectual argument.’
Weekend Australian

‘Ribald and witty.’
Who Weekly

Click here for more reviews

‘Fourteenth-century Avignon comes alive in full colour under Jinks’s pen . . . at once lewd, literate and laugh-out-loud funny. As with The Inquisitor, the author’s previous medieval thriller, this novel assures a thumping good read.’
Historical Novels Review

‘Jinks’s deft sense of wit elicits tears of laughter with her earthy humour and sharp observations of the human condition. Her characters are wonderfully drawn, good and evil and all shades in between, as they strive to survive those brutal and unforgiving times. A great read.’
Newcastle Herald

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  • Isa

    This was such a heartbreaker — I had nearly cried. Amiel was so cruel. But of course, it wasn’t half tragic as when Roland died in the Pagan chronicles though.

    Ms. Jinks, I’ve been reading your medieval-set novels since grade school. Now I’m a student halfway though college, still pining for more of them. I wished the Pagan Chronicles didn’t end when I read them at the end of elementary school; when I read the Inquisition trilogy in high school, I didn’t want those to end as well. I’m still re-reading them time after to time, but it’s funny how so stuck in the past I feel when I do. Perhaps you no longer wish to write novels with medieval-settings, revolving around clerics, knights, and such. (It was hard to get hold of the Inquisition novels in the U.S. — Amazon had them, but at fairly high prices!) But I can’t get enough of them — could you please write another?

    I’m most sorry if this humble request is in any way tiresome for you, but the way these novels reflect certain aspects of the human conscience and spirit has deeply touched me ever since the first time I had read them. Perhaps the way you write about the lives of people living in an era so far removed in time, yet which seem so recognizable and spiritually universal, cannot help but capture the hearts of readers. I am not actually a big fan of all medieval-era historical fiction, but your novels are a shining exception.

    I’ve read your other books too (the Genius series — I’ve never really gotten over how funny it is that Cadel basically makes a DNA-wired DIY smartphone back when clunky flip phones with crap functions were all that the market had to offer — the Support Group, Dark Mountain, and The Road, in middle school), but the Chronicles and Trilogy are the ones that I still really think about, years later. Sometimes, I can’t help but think, “What would Pagan say?” or “What would Helie observe in this case?” Of course, I recognize that their situations in a very different society, which makes these questions sometimes difficult to answer.

    I still notice a few funny things among the Chronicles and Trilogy. For instance, in the Secret Familiar, why didn’t Helie, the ever-calculating and crafty familiar, hide the heretical texts Bernard Gui lent to him with the place that he had his diary (or some place better), and instead, in the cellar, where they were far more likely to be found by Martin? But I suppose that he is only human. Still, I thought he have more foresight than that! Every time he retrieved those books from the cellar, I was cringing, thinking, “that’s a major give-away just waiting to happen…”

    And the similarities between the Secret Familiar and Pagan’s Crusade are so funny. Pagan and Helie have to, at one point, literally shove their noses through someone’s door and threaten some weak, morally-questionable character on the other side, to get something out of them, and they do it in such a similar manner, I felt an overwhelming sense of deja vu reading those parts. Pagan and Helie are some of my favorite characters. All your main characters, interestingly, have such a surprisingly strong moral core, although it is not immediately apparent. From Pagan and Roland (one of the most touching fictional bromances ever), to Helie and Raymond Maillot, which I keep on confusing with Donatus, (due to their common love for wine and women), they are all amazingly principled, admirable people in the face of adversity. I try not to live too vicariously through what I read, due to the competing commitments from the reality of onsetting adulthood, but it’s very hard when I read your novels.

    I wish I could write more, but seeing that this is a post and not the place to launch into a full-fledged missive (I apologize, it seems that I already have! Understandably, you do not seem to provide a personal email or address for snail mail online; I would have contacted you that way if I knew. If a message board is not the place for it, perhaps you could advise me on what way you might prefer me to contact you though instead), and having just summoned up the courage I’ve tried gathering over these years, to write on this message board in hopes that you might see this, I can only entreat you again to consider writing another medieval-era novel. I would completely understand though (with sadness), if you feel disinclined to, seeing that that you wrote them in the ’90s and you feel that you ought to let them remain at rest. Still, I feel that many readers would be eager for a revival.

    Personally, these novels are the ones I’ve ever felt closest to. I feel that they’ve really been part of my growth as a person. Perhaps — hopefully I do not appear overly attached or selfish in my request — reading another would help me better complete my growth as an adult and accept the uncertainties that now lay before me. I’ve tried reading other literature, self-help books, even going next semester’s worth of coursework to try to drown this sense of uncertainty out, but — it’s hard to describe — I feel incomplete, almost stagnant. Perhaps one last novel, a bit like Pagan Chronicles or Inquisitor novels, can help inspire me to move forward.

    Thanks for taking the time to read this — I am sure your schedule as a prolific writer is probably quite busy! — and I hope that these thoughts, which I’ve been mulling over for years, reach you.

  • Catherine Jinks

    A wonderful message from someone named Isa was recently posted to this page. I received a copy via email, but for some reason it is not displaying in the comments section. Here it is in full, followed by my reply:

    This was such a heartbreaker — I had nearly cried. Amiel was so cruel. But of course, it wasn’t half tragic as when Roland died in the Pagan chronicles though.

    Ms. Jinks, I’ve been reading your medieval-set novels since grade school. Now I’m a student halfway though college, still pining for more of them. I wished the Pagan Chronicles didn’t end when I read them at the end of elementary school; when I read the Inquisition trilogy in high school, I didn’t want those to end as well. I’m still re-reading them time after to time, but it’s funny how so stuck in the past I feel when I do. Perhaps you no longer wish to write novels with medieval-settings, revolving around clerics, knights, and such. (It was hard to get hold of the Inquisition novels in the U.S. — Amazon had them, but at fairly high prices!) But I can’t get enough of them — could you please write another?

    I’m most sorry if this humble request is in any way tiresome for you, but the way these novels reflect certain aspects of the human conscience and spirit has deeply touched me ever since the first time I had read them. Perhaps the way you write about the lives of people living in an era so far removed in time, yet which seem so recognizable and spiritually universal, cannot help but capture the hearts of readers. I am not actually a big fan of all medieval-era historical fiction, but your novels are a shining exception.

    I’ve read your other books too (the Genius series — I’ve never really gotten over how funny it is that Cadel basically makes a DNA-wired DIY smartphone back when clunky flip phones with crap functions were all that the market had to offer — the Support Group, Dark Mountain, and The Road, in middle school), but the Chronicles and Trilogy are the ones that I still really think about, years later. Sometimes, I can’t help but think, “What would Pagan say?” or “What would Helie observe in this case?” Of course, I recognize that their situations in a very different society, which makes these questions sometimes difficult to answer.

    I still notice a few funny things among the Chronicles and Trilogy. For instance, in the Secret Familiar, why didn’t Helie, the ever-calculating and crafty familiar, hide the heretical texts Bernard Gui lent to him with the place that he had his diary (or some place better), and instead, in the cellar, where they were far more likely to be found by Martin? But I suppose that he is only human. Still, I thought he have more foresight than that! Every time he retrieved those books from the cellar, I was cringing, thinking, “that’s a major give-away just waiting to happen…”

    And the similarities between the Secret Familiar and Pagan’s Crusade are so funny. Pagan and Helie have to, at one point, literally shove their noses through someone’s door and threaten some weak, morally-questionable character on the other side, to get something out of them, and they do it in such a similar manner, I felt an overwhelming sense of deja vu reading those parts. Pagan and Helie are some of my favorite characters. All your main characters, interestingly, have such a surprisingly strong moral core, although it is not immediately apparent. From Pagan and Roland (one of the most touching fictional bromances ever), to Helie and Raymond Maillot, which I keep on confusing with Donatus, (due to their common love for wine and women), they are all amazingly principled, admirable people in the face of adversity. I try not to live too vicariously through what I read, due to the competing commitments from the reality of onsetting adulthood, but it’s very hard when I read your novels.

    I wish I could write more, but seeing that this is a post and not the place to launch into a full-fledged missive (I apologize, it seems that I already have! Understandably, you do not seem to provide a personal email or address for snail mail online; I would have contacted you that way if I knew. If a message board is not the place for it, perhaps you could advise me on what way you might prefer me to contact you though instead), and having just summoned up the courage I’ve tried gathering over these years, to write on this message board in hopes that you might see this, I can only entreat you again to consider writing another medieval-era novel. I would completely understand though (with sadness), if you feel disinclined to, seeing that that you wrote them in the ’90s and you feel that you ought to let them remain at rest. Still, I feel that many readers would be eager for a revival.

    Personally, these novels are the ones I’ve ever felt closest to. I feel that they’ve really been part of my growth as a person. Perhaps — hopefully I do not appear overly attached or selfish in my request — reading another would help me better complete my growth as an adult and accept the uncertainties that now lay before me. I’ve tried reading other literature, self-help books, even going next semester’s worth of coursework to try to drown this sense of uncertainty out, but — it’s hard to describe — I feel incomplete, almost stagnant. Perhaps one last novel, a bit like Pagan Chronicles or Inquisitor novels, can help inspire me to move forward.

    Thanks for taking the time to read this — I am sure your schedule as a prolific writer is probably quite busy! — and I hope that these thoughts, which I’ve been mulling over for years, reach you.

    • Catherine Jinks

      I was incredibly moved to learn what a profound influence my books seem to have had on you; it’s interesting that while my stuff doesn’t have a very broad appeal (like Harry Potter or the Hunger Games) it seems to hit the nail on the head with a select group of manifestly intelligent readers, all of whom end up in tertiary education. My Genius fans are a breed apart from my Pagan fans; the former are often socially awkward computer experts, while the latter (to which you obviously belong) are more humanist in their interests, but they’re ALL VERY BRIGHT. Maybe that’s why my appeal isn’t as wide as I’d like it to be – after all, how many very bright people are there in the world, as a proportion of the entire population?

      I wrote my medieval books a fair while ago – I think the last of them came out about ten years ago, or thereabouts? The adult books did much better overseas, in countries like Portugal and Spain and Poland, than they did here. The last Pagan book didn’t sell terribly well either. So although I enjoyed writing about medieval times, it became increasingly obvious that if I was going to continue to make a living as a writer, I might have to look for new areas of interest. (The Genius books, for example, were much more successful.) Now, this is the problem with turning your vocation – the thing that you do to keep yourself happy and functioning – into a career. After a while, the job aspect takes over and the fulfilment aspect takes a back seat. Publishing books has become very, very difficult, because more and more people just aren’t reading; they’re playing computer games and watching (fantastic) TV like Game of Thrones instead. (Young readers, particularly, are also becoming less and less interested in historical fiction.) So even if I did write more medieval books, there’s no guarantee I’d be able to get them published. I’ve had quite a few knockbacks, lately. It’s got to the point where I’m about to publish my first non-fiction, just to keep the revenue rolling in. Because after writing books professionally for the last thirty years, I can’t really do anything else.

      I guess what I’m trying to say is that, while I may end up writing another medieval book, it would probably be some kind of fantasy as well – something with a bit more mass appeal. I don’t know. I’m a bit rusty, these days, when it comes to the middle ages – I’ve been focusing on the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, lately. I wish I had better news for you, but it’s a funny old thing, being a writer; you’re at the mercy of your moods and your gut, even though you’re trying to turn both of them into a livelihood. This makes it one of the riskiest jobs on earth.

      I tell you something else: you’ve asked me a number of questions about the books you love, and guess what? I don’t remember any of it. I could hardly tell you the plot of ‘The Notary’, or ‘The Secret Familiar’. I’d have to read them again. Admittedly, I have got a shocking memory, but I think it’s part and parcel of how my books function for me. They keep me busy and happy while I’m writing them, but when I’m finished (except in a few, rare cases) they don’t mean much to me any more – except, perhaps, in the case of Pagan and Cadel Piggott. I really love those boys.

      The sense that you have of being slightly disconnected and free-floating – I think I know what you mean. Whenever I don’t have a story that I’m developing – whenever the pot seems to be dry – I feel the same myself. For comfort I sometimes become obsessed with other people’s stories: like ‘Sherlock’, for instance, or Patrick O’Brien’s Aubrey/Maturin novels. In fact, I’ve got a much better memory for OTHER people’s books than I do for mine. Go figure.

      Anyway, I thought I’d better send you a nice, long message because you sent me one. I’m sorry I don’t seem to have resolved anything for you, but I wanted you to know that I’m listening. The thing is, I’m no great teacher or philosopher, and while it makes me incredibly happy to think that I’m doing some good in the world – by comforting people with my books – I don’t really know how I’ve done it because I didn’t set out to do it! I just wrote them to comfort me.

      Thanks so much, again, for your wonderful message. It gave me as much enjoyment as my books seem to have given you.