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For Want of a Book: A Francis Bacon mystery short story
For Want of a Book: A Francis Bacon mystery short story
For Want of a Book: A Francis Bacon mystery short story
Ebook40 pages51 minutes

For Want of a Book: A Francis Bacon mystery short story

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All Francis Bacon wants is a book, but when he reaches his favorite bookshop, the printer drags him into a murder investigation.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherAnna Castle
Release dateSep 2, 2018
ISBN9781386613602
For Want of a Book: A Francis Bacon mystery short story
Author

Anna Castle

Anna Castle writes the Francis Bacon mysteries and the Lost Hat, Texas mysteries. She has earned a series of degrees -- BA in the Classics, MS in Computer Science, and a PhD in Linguistics -- and has had a corresponding series of careers -- waitressing, software engineering, grammar-writing, assistant professor, and archivist. Writing fiction combines her lifelong love of stories and learning. She physically resides in Austin, Texas and mentally counts herself a queen of infinite space.

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    Book preview

    For Want of a Book - Anna Castle

    London, February, 1586

    The cold wind blowing down Paternoster Row snatched at Francis Bacon’s hat. He grabbed it before it flew from his head and pulled it firmly down, hunching forward into the wind. He ought to be snug in his bed with a fur-lined coverlet and a hot posset, absorbed in his study of Niccolò Machiavelli’s works, not risking his health out of doors so early on a March morning.

    But in order to develop his thoughts about realism as a moral stance, he needed to re-read Lucretius’s De rerum natura, and he didn’t have a copy in his chambers. Someone at Gray’s Inn undoubtedly owned the work, but his fellow barristers had been out of sorts with him since his recent promotion to a seat on the governing bench. Never mind that his late father had been the Lord Keeper of the Great Seal or that the position was merely probationary. Never mind that he knew as much about the law as the rest of them put together. The outcry had risen, loud and bitter. He’s only twenty-five! He’s barely passed the bar! He’s never argued a single case in court!

    The fuss would die down when a fresh scandal came along. In the meantime, he had a compelling desire to read a book he did not possess and was thus driven out of doors to trudge through the icy London streets.

    His favorite bookseller, Oliver Brocksby, traded under the sign of the owl at the top of the row. The street behind St. Paul’s Cathedral, usually crowded with men in legal and scholarly robes, seemed deserted. Was it too early for the shops to be open? The sun had been up at the point when he realized he needed the Lucretius, so he’d simply dressed and hurried out without giving a thought to the time. He hoped it wouldn’t turn out to be Sunday — or a holiday.

    Never mind; Brocksby lived above his shop. He’d be there. Now if only Francis could persuade him to let him have another book on credit . . .

    He tucked his chin against an icy gust and pushed on the door, half expecting it to be locked. But it swung open as if pulled from the other side, drawing him abruptly into the shop, straight into the arms of the bookseller.

    Thank God it’s only you, Mr. Bacon. You must help me!

    Francis blinked at him, uncomprehending and blinded by the dimness. "I’m hoping you have a copy of De rerum natura that you could —"

    Not now! The most horrible — Brocksby flapped his hands in distress. He peered through a gap in the shutters and then turned the key in the lock, trapping them inside. You must help me, Mr. Bacon. I don’t know what to do!

    The fine hairs rose on the back of Francis’s neck. The man seemed completely bereft of his wits. What do you want from me?

    Come! Come! Brocksby

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