Flesh and Blood

The year is 1591. An elliptical prologue, written by “the one who disappeared like chimney smoke on a windy day,” describes “a heartbroken maid” who throws herself into the Thames. This might well be a spoiler but for the fact that Hantover’s historical novel has two potentially heartbroken maids. Has one of them taken this fatal plunge? Fourteen-year-old Elizabeth Hilliard pledges her heart to Lord William Bateman, 19. But her swain is infected with wanderlust and sets sail in search of adventure. She remains chaste and faithful, writing him encouraging and heartfelt letters. William, meanwhile, travels by sea from Venice to Rhodes, where he is imprisoned by a Turkish governor, whose daughter, Safiye, engineers his escape and, unbeknownst to the older but not necessarily wiser young traveler, follows him back to England with faithful protector Zahir, a towering Moor, in tow. Her steely determination provides a contrast to William’s more seemingly heedless gallivant. “She could hold a dagger steady in her hand and didn’t shudder at the thought of using it to protect her honor.” William does at last propose to Elizabeth, in a letter. Hantover’s prose is both economical and poetic, suspense simmering subtly beneath top notes of romance and adventure. The story rotates among three perspectives, from Elizabeth to Safiye (called “The Turkish Lady” in chapter titles) to William. Only the seemingly guileless Elizabeth narrates in first person. This gives the reader welcome space to form opinions about the characters and the mores during this epoch. The second half of the story is considerably enlivened by the appearance of Will Kemp, a former actor in Shakespeare’s troupe who aligns himself with Safiye.