The Disorderly Knights

Oh, I am so happy. I am heartbroken. I’ve just run an exhausting mixture of a sprint and a marathon and collapsed after the finish line, gasping.

Dunnett is shatteringly ruthless in this book. Beloved characters die in horrible ways. The knives are invisible and they pierce you slowly, until Dunnett starts to twist. Things are not what they seem, this is not the story you think you are reading! There are clues, of course, but you gallop past them – because of the plot, because of some of the best action I’ve ever encountered on a page, because of masks so skilfully worn.

As for the characters…:

There is a maturity, a sense of responsibility, an urgency to Lymond that was missing from the first two books. I’m full of admiration, show more both for the character arc and the author’s skill in creating it. This is not a game any more. (Richard to Lymond: “Not for the first time, you frighten me silly.”)

I loved the chemistry between Lymond and Gabriel and Jerott. Yes, I want a slashfic, is that really too much to ask? Obviously (for those in the know), I mean Gabriel from the first half of the book, this Gabriel:
“I wish… you did not need to mock,” he said, and rested his fingertips, briefly, as once before, on Lymond’s arm. “For of all men, my God could love you; and I, too.”

Oonagh, whose storyline I hated in the previous book, managed to make me root for her and break my heart.
“Could she not teach him other comforts, though? The comfort of planning, of action; the great panacea of success. On this stricken island there was no one who knew what a leader should be like… except Oonagh O’Dwyer.”

Joleta… So much potential, so much talent that was wasted and twisted. I can’t help feeling a lot of sympathy and sorrow. It’s interesting how Dunnett crams all this convent-bred innocence down the reader’s throat – it should give you a clue, but it doesn’t.

Sibylla, you are such a joy, in so many ways, always. “The Church,” said Sibylla definitely, “should excommunicate girls who do not replace lids on sticky jars and wash their hair every day with the best towels.”

Somervilles are an awesome family. I hated Philippa the brat, and then she turned into a seed of something magnificent (I’ll see what the rest of the books bring). Well, maybe it is not that surprising, with such a mother. “… and being Kate, she had stayed, gnawing at her nails, where she was, and had left Philippa to do her growing-up without interference.”

I really wanted an epic sword fight between certain characters – as the book was drawing to a close, I grew worried. And then it happened! It *was* epic (too short, though).
The ending makes you want to grab the next book. I won’t, though, not right now. I need to breathe and come to my senses. show less

In this third book in the Lymond Chronicles, our hero Francis Crawford travels to Malta and becomes involved with the Knights of St John, a Catholic military order. Led by a tyrannical Grand Master, the group finds themselves defending Malta and then battling the Turks in Tripoli. This action forms the first half of the book, and I admit I almost gave up on it. The setting, the myriad new characters, the complicated battle scenes that were impossible to visualize, were all doing my head in. But I set the book aside, and when I picked it up again a week or so later I found the action had returned to Scotland and familiar characters reappeared. Lymond decides to form his own Knights of St Mary’s, a mercenary army which he plans to train show more to defend Scotland and possibly other parts of the world. The new army is seeded with a few Knights of St. John, and which seems promising but ultimately leads to a serious conflict between leaders. On the way to the inevitable showdown other characters develop in some very interesting ways, and the reader learns some things about Lymond that he doesn’t yet know himself. The ending is quite open-ended, leaving me wondering just what will happen next.

These novels are long and rich with historic detail, requiring considerable concentration. I plan to keep reading this series, but need to put some space between each volume so as not to get overwhelmed. show less

Lymond travels to Malta where the Knights of St John are bracing themselves for an attack by the fleet of Sulemein The Magnificent. There he finds a rival, and behaves disgracefully towards him. He also finds, briefy, and fatefully, Oonagh O'Malley. After much hullaballoo and general disorderliness, the action moves back to Scotland, where Lymond's rival and his sister set about winning him over, and he continues to behave disgracefully. Murder and betrayal and sabotage and incitement keep things interesting until the final monumental confrontation and revelation. Interesting that though she plays similar games in the Niccolo series, those books aren't heavily structured like mysteries or adventures or romances, as the Lymond books are show more - though if I remember corectly, the last three don't lean heavily on that kind of structuring either - as she comes to rely less on that kind of scaffolding to support her stories. Anyway, my point is that the finale has an inescapable 'gather the witnesses' staginess to it despite the skilfulness of the plotting, though it only seems so in retrospect, at the actual time of reading it was bloody riveting. show less

61.♬

I listen to audiobooks as I’m doing other things, like driving or housework, but with this book there were several occasions when, having finished my tasks, I just sat in an armchair and kept listening, because I was so engrossed! This story is intense and compelling, and… wow.

In the summer of 1551, Francis Crawford of Lymond is asked to come to Malta, where the knights in the Order of St John face a Turkish attack; later, in Scotland, Lymond is again involved with some of the knights as Lymond sets about establishing a company of mercenaries.

I found the second half especially captivating, because for so many of the people Lymond knows in Scotland (and England), the reader is also acquainted with their families, friends and show more neighbours. This means I’m much more invested in their wellbeing and survival. In particular, I like seeing Philippa Somerville -- who was only ten during The Game of Kings -- take on a more active role in the story.

I knew to expect Dunnett’s skill with twists and with tying a loosely-connected string of events into a tightly cohesive whole, but I was nevertheless impressed. Impressed and also left reeling -- because some developments are tragic and some revelations are devastating and just from the aftermath of all that tension.

As a story, this is arguably darker than I usually prefer, but not, I found, darker than I could bear. I appreciate that certain horrifying or otherwise distasteful incidents occur largely off-screen, and that Dunnett is able to still convey their impact and make it clear that these things are not condoned.

In case it needs saying, there is a lot in this book which I enjoyed. There are scenes which are not (or not just) tense or insightful, but very entertaining. The clever plotting, from both author and certain characters, is satisfying, and the nuanced portrayal of characters is fascinating -- there’s a noteworthy amount of perspicacity from both author and some of her characters. And even if the actions of a few cast long shadows, many of the characters are just plain likeable.

She said baldly, “You’ve left St Mary’s to itself for three days. If you daren’t leave it any longer, after all the time you’ve devoted to it, then you must know you’ve failed.”
Lymond said softly, “That is the only thing you may not say to me... Kate, superb Kate: I will not be mothered.”
“Mothered!” Kate’s small, undistinguished face was black with annoyance. “I would sooner mother a vampire. I am merely trying to point out what your browbeaten theorists at St Mary’s ought surely to have mentioned in passing. Health is a weapon of war. Unless you obtain adequate rest, first your judgement will go, and then every other qualification you may have to command, and either way, the forces of light will have a field-day in the end.” show less

This book has one of my favorite opening lines of all time: "On the day that his grannie was killed by the English, Sir William Scott the Younger of Buccleuch was at Melrose Abbey, marrying his aunt." If by the time you have read the first page you are not hooked, you are not a lover of derring-do.
This was the first Dorothy Dunnett I read, forty years ago. I loved her ornate, glittering prose, then and now. These are not easy books; she seems to delight in misleading the reader. It really helps if you love British history -- and perhaps if you are part Scot.
Though this is the third in the Lymond series, it can be read on its own. It roars from Scotland to Malta and back again, picking up steam and characters along the way.
When you show more have read the series, it's fun to watch for its influence upon later writers, especially in the romance, fantasy, and SF genres; but it's never been done better. show less

The Lymond Chronicles demand a fair amount of effort from the reader, as the huge cast and byzantine political manouverings can be a lot to keep up with. Yet the rewards are considerable. Dunnett provides the most audacious action set- pieces (including the best duel I’ve ever read in [b:The Game of Kings|112077|The Game of Kings (The Lymond Chronicles, #1)|Dorothy Dunnett|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1342486295s/112077.jpg|2219130]), breathtakingly exciting plot twists, as well as extremely witty dialogue and a brilliant sense of time and place. This third novel, though, took me some while to get into and had what I consider to be significant flaws. I found Lymond more trying than usual. His string of oblique and sarcastic show more statements, coupled with near omniscience and omnipotence, were similar to the previous two chronicles. In ‘The Disorderly Knights’, however, he is more inclined to punch teenage girls, which I object to in the strongest possible terms. This made it harder than ever to swallow all the commentary on his apparent charisma and success with women. Every character other than his mother and brother gives the clear impression of being in love with him, while periodically also wanting to murder him. Such inhuman charm suggests he’s some kind of fae. My favourite assessment of him in the whole book:

"He’s a tongue, Mr Crawford has, hasn’t he?” said Chester Herald in a pleased voice. “We found that out in France. A proper lad. And what he got up to!”
“You should see what he gets up to here,” said Jerott, bored.

I must also note that Dunnett’s sex scenes invariably contain hilariously purple prose, for example:

When, late at night, the shadow darkened the starlight behind her silent shrouds, and the door, whispering, admitted a deeper shadow, soft-footed and deft, it found her already perfect as a flower brought to its full-breathing height.

After a slow start, I did get carried away by the plot, in which Lymond decides he wants his own private army. The twist in the last third of the book is excellently done. While the action was as thrilling and impressive as ever, I can only give the novel three stars overall because I found the role of Joleta so thoroughly distasteful. This beautiful sixteen year old girl, with her ‘apricot’ coloured hair is at various times shown as an innocent child, a ‘bitch’ (several people use the epithet), a manipulative seductress, a nymphomaniac, a sadist, a victim of incestuous child abuse, and a murdered corpse. At no point does she seem like a believable person and everyone except Jerott treats her appallingly. Lymond is rude and violent, then sleeps with her under incredibly dubious circumstances. All the female characters find her tedious and spoiled, without apparently wondering why she’s like this. It’s mostly left to the reader’s imagination what Gabriel did to her in the past, but it was clearly horrific, and in the end he murders both her and her (their?!) unborn child. It surprises me to find a female author treating a female character in this fashion. I refuse to believe that the plot required Joleta to suffer as she did, without ever being presented as sympathetic.

On the other hand, I thought her brother Gabriel was handled much better. It was very satisfying when he turned out to be the true villain of the piece, although the depths of his villainy were unnecessarily hyperbolic. Did he need to be Joleta’s abuser? I think not. Overall, though, he worked very well as a dark mirror of Lymond. Both of them are charismatic and machiavellian blond men who seem too good to be true. In Gabriel’s case, his facade of piety apparently conceals absolute evil. In Lymond’s case, he can’t be bothered with a mask of politeness and would rather irritate everyone with his insouciant competence. The climactic fight between Gabriel and Lymond in St Giles’ Church is a delightful slice of pure melodrama, particularly satisfying as I regularly walk past the place. Other especially dramatic moments include Will Scott’s death (which was genuinely moving), the whipping scene, and the powder magazine fire. Dunnett is very good at fires, actually.

It might be a while before I read the next in the Lymond Chronicles as they are rich, intermittently indigestible fare. While Dunnett’s plots and action scenes are exemplary, the romance elements range from the absurd to the truly horrifying. Lymond himself can try your patience with his shenanigans; I have every sympathy for his long-suffering and sardonic mother Sybilla. show less