In his critically acclaimed debut thriller, Martyr , Rory Clements introduced readers to the unforgettable John Shakespeare, chief intelligencer to Queen Elizabeth I and older brother to Will. Now, five years later, the Queen needs Shakespeare’s services once more. Not only is England still at war with Spain, but her court is riven by savage infighting among ambitious young courtiers. Shakespeare is summoned by Elizabeth’s cold but deadly Privy Councillor Sir Robert Cecil and ordered to undertake two linked missions: to investigate the mystery of the doomed Roanoke colony in North America—Sir Walter Ralegh’s folly—and to spy on Cecil’s rival, the dashing Earl of Essex. Essex is the brightest star in the firmament, the Queen’s favorite. But when Shakespeare enters Essex’s dissolute world, he discovers not only that the Queen herself is in danger, but that he and his family are also targets. With a plague devastating the country, Catholics facing persecution and martyrdom at the hands of an infamous torturer, and John’s own wife, Catherine, possibly protecting a priest—Shakespeare has his own survival to secure, as well as that of his fading but still feisty Queen. Filled with the flavor and facts of a tumultuous time in English history, Revenger is a stunning novel of savage rivalries and reprisals from an author swiftly becoming a known master of historical suspense. Advanced Praise for Revenger “Set in Elizabethan England, Clements's sequel to his debut, Martyr, raises him to the top rank of historical thriller writers….Clements presents an intricate web of plots and subplots while vividly evoking the tenor of the times. Shakespeare makes a fascinating lead, perfectly suited to sustain what one hopes will be a long series.”   —Publishers Weekly (starred review) “Rich with period detail, Revenger is a gripping tale of Elizabethan intrigue that brings Tudor England thrillingly to life. Revenger is equal parts history and mystery and wholly enthralling.”  —Deanna Raybourn, author of The Dark Enquiry “An enthralling tale of treason, espionage, and mystery….With a deft hand an eye for detail, Mr. Clements sweeps us from London’s squalid back alleys to its palatial noble mansions during the waning days of Elizabeth I’s reign.  Crackling with suspense, Shakespeare’s latest adventure has enough twists and turns to keep you reading long into the night.”   —C.W. Gortner, author of The Confessions of Catherine de Medici “Out of the rough straw of Elizabethan history, Rory Clements has spun entertainment gold.”   —G.J. Meyers, author of The Tudors “A historical thriller to send a shiver down your spine….Energy, élan, a fine ear for dialogue and a grasp for the intrigues of Queen Elizabeth I’s court….I could not tear myself away, it is that good.”   —Daily Mail “A historical thriller to send a shiver down your spine.”— Daily Mail (U.K.) Praise for Rory Clements’s Martyr   “[An] engrossing thriller.”— The Washington Post   “A world spiced with delicious characters . . . Clements seasons it with romance and humour.”— The Mail on Sunday (U.K.)   “Beautifully done . . . alive and tremendously engrossing.”— The Daily Telegraph (U.K.)   “[An] excellent debut . . . The characters, action and period detail are all solid.”— Publishers Weekly (starred review) After a career in national newspapers, Rory Clements now lives in a seventeenth-century farmhouse in Norfolk, England, and writes full-time. When not immersing himself in the Elizabethan world, he enjoys village life and a game of tennis with friends. He is married to the artist Naomi Clements-Wright. Chapter 1 IN THE HEAT OF THE EVENING, JUST AS DAYLIGHT began to drift into dusk, Joe Jaggard took Amy Le Neve's hand in his and pulled her willingly away from her wedding feast. Amy was slight, little more than five foot and less than a hundredweight. Her fair hair shone in the last of the light, and her skin was as clear and soft as a milkmaid's. She was sixteen, yet her hand in Joe's great right hand was like a child's. He was eighteen years, six foot or more, lean and muscular and golden. In his left hand he clasped a wine flagon. They ran on, breathless, until her bare foot struck a sharp flint and she faltered, crying out in shock and pain. Joe stopped and laid her down in the long grass. He kissed her foot and sucked the blood that trickled from the sole. Tears flowed down her cheeks. Joe cupped her head in his hands, his fingers tangling in her tear-drenched hair, and kissed her face all over. He held her to him, engulfing her. She pulled open his chemise of fine cambric; he pushed her wedding smock away from her calves, up over her flawless thighs, crumpling the thin summer worsted. It was lovemaking, but it was warfare, too: the last delirious stabbings in a battle they knew to be lost. Joe took a draft from the flagon. "You know what, doll," he said, and his voice became high-pitched, "I do believe you are an abominat