Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway: A Murder of Furies (Ancient Crete Mystery, #3) by Eleanor Kuhns

A MURDER OF FURIES

by Eleanor Kuhns

February 16 - March 13, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

AN ANCIENT CRETE MYSTERY 

Bronze Age Crete, 1450 B.C.E.

When Tinos, the High Priestess's consort, asks Martis to search for his missing daughter, Martis becomes involved in the dangerous politics between Crete and Egypt. A minor Egyptian prince is courting Hele, the High Priestess's daughter, despite her persistent refusals. And despite the lobbying by Hele's brother, Khoranos, who seeks the Cretan throne for himself.

Then the High Priestess is found murdered, savagely stabbed multiple times. Martis discovers plans to kidnap Hele and she has to be spirited away to safety. Egyptian soldiers occupy Knossos and Khoranos installs his ally as the High Priestess.

Can Martis rescue the High Priestess's daughters and identify the murderer before Khoranos, with Egypt's help, takes the throne? Martis must embark on several dangerous quests to succeed.

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Murder Mystery
Published by: Indie
Publication Date: January 31, 2026
Number of Pages: 274
Series: An Ancient Crete Mystery, Book 3
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Goodreads | BookBub

The Ancient Crete Mystery Series

In the Shadow of the Bull Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub

On the Horns of Death Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

Although it was just late March, Crete was already growing hot. Sweating and panting after the bird dance, I pushed my mask to the top of my head. I sucked in deep breaths and flapped the long white sleeves, pinned to resemble wings. Air rushed over my damp arms and legs,

At least my dance was finished. Other dances would also be performed, and, in fact, the next one was already beginning. The younger girls, all maidens and too young to wear the red spotted scarf, were clad in bearskins. They danced to honor the Lady of Animals and Childbirth. I remembered that hot smelly costume from previous years. Now, at almost seventeen, I danced as a bird in a graceful circle of white-clad girls twisting around one another. I thought we really did look like flying birds; not imprisoned by the earth. We each wore the mask of a different species. Although I’d hoped to dance as a gull or an owl, I was only a sparrow.

The other bird dancers removed their masks and scattered into the audience to join friends and family. Except the vulture. Funny, I thought, I didn’t recognize the vulture. Now that I’d begun my agoge and visited the dorms regularly, I thought I knew all the young women – at least by sight. I certainly should know everyone who I danced with.

Despite the identical white gowns and the masks covering the faces, the bodies were difficult to disguise. This girl was heavier, that other one was as slim as a papyrus reed. Although every girl danced the same steps, some jumped higher and some twisted with an extra roll of the hips. Easy to know them even though we weren’t supposed to – for this short space of time we were the creatures represented by our masks. But I did not recognize the vulture. I squinted against the bright sun. I didn’t remember the vulture from the rehearsals either. And surely at least one girl was missing –

“If you’re Martis, the High Priestess’s consort wishes to speak to you,” said a treble voice behind me. I turned and looked first at the grubby little boy and then around at the crowd. I saw no sign of Tinos.

“Where is he?” I asked, my heart leaping.

At one time, I’d thought – hoped – Tinos and I had developed a special connection. But last fall, during the investigation into the murder of the bull dancer, we’d fallen out. I’d seen very little of him since then and only at a distance, as he conducted his duties. Sometimes I imagined we were still close friends. Other times I despaired we’d ever be friends again.

“I’ll take you to him,” the boy said, extending a grimy paw. I took hold and followed the boy through the crowd.

We went a distance from the theater, finally pausing at a copse of trees. Tinos waited within, almost unrecognizable without his headdress or jewelry. His long black hair had been pulled back and tied with a string. “Martis,” he said. As his eyes drifted from my hair to my white dress, his eyebrows rose in surprise. I touched my long hair self-consciously. I now wore it in the fashionable style - with most of it tumbling down my back except for the locks pulled in front of my ears.

“You’ve grown up? I always think of you in a boy’s kilt . . .”

“I wear that only when I am bull dancing,” I said shortly, affronted. Did Tinos believe I would be a child forever? I was old enough to marry - although I’d vowed before the Goddess that I never would.

Tinos nodded and stared over my head as though regretting this meeting. I could see he felt awkward, without the easy camaraderie we’d once enjoyed, and I was both sorry and angry with him. I’d looked forward to talking with him once again and now he seemed, well, disappointed. “You wanted to see me?” I asked, my tone taking on some sharpness.

He turned to look at me.

“That’s the Martis I remember,” he said, grinning for the first time. “Still as quick to anger as ever.” I went hot.

Unable to think of a smart response, I tossed my head.

“Have you seen Atana lately. I know you and my daughter are friends.”

I knew Atana of course and I’d made an effort to befriend her. At one point, I’d hoped to see more of Tinos, which hadn’t happened. Atana was only nine so I didn’t spend a lot of time with her.

I turned and looked over my shoulder as though I could see through the trees and the crowds beyond. Atana should have joined the younger girls in the bear dance but, because she was the High Priestess’s daughter, she’d been allowed to dance with the birds. Now I knew who’d been missing.

“Did you see her this morning?” Tinos continued, his words rushing out.

“No,” I said. “Didn’t you?”

“No. We – um - quarreled,” he admitted, his eyes seeking the ground beneath his booted feet. “I haven’t seen or spoken to her for several days.”

“Ah.” I said in understanding. Before I moved to the girls’ dorm, I’d been arguing frequently with my mother Now that I stayed occasionally in the dorm, I saw her less often and so we quarreled less. “I saw Atana at most of the rehearsals,” I said now. “How many days has it been since you’ve spoken to her?”

“Almost three. She’s been avoiding me. It was a very bad quarrel,” Tinos’s eyes slid away from mine. He took a deep breath and looked at me. “I’m worried about her.”

“Surely the High Priestess –“ I began. But Tinos was shaking his head.

“She’s too busy now,” he said. I narrowed my eyes at him. Too busy to wonder where her daughter went? After so many days without seeing me, my mother took pains to seek me out. “Atana talks about you,” Tinos continued. “She says you are her friend.”

I stared at him. Friends? Sure, we were friendly, but she was more like my younger sister. We were the two outsiders. I’d just moved into the dorms, years after most girls my age, and I stayed there infrequently, so I didn’t know any of them well. I didn’t care to. They were all looking forward to marriage’ I wasn’t.

“Where would Atana go?” I asked. Atana, Tinos’s oldest child, was much shyer than her older half-siblings and did not make friends easily. Perhaps because of her position – Atana’s mother was the High Priestess after all, the other girls alternately teased or flattered her.

“That’s it, I don’t know,” Tinos said. A pleat formed between his brows and he suddenly looked tired. “But I am very worried. Will you ask the other girls if they’ve seen her?”

“Why can’t you ask them?” I asked. “They would have to answer you.” As the High Priestess’s consort, I meant. Tinos was the most important man in Knossos.

The fingers on Tinos’s right hand began to twitch nervously. “I can’t,” he said at last. “It wouldn’t be wise. The High Priestess . . .” His voice faded and disappeared.

“What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled.

“Speaking to them would be easier for you.” Tinos tried again. “You see them regularly and no one will find it surprising if you talk to them. My appearance would cause too much comment.” He looked at me and I nodded. I was not so much around the younger girls but I did see them as they ran races and wrestled. “Well then,” he said as though it was all settled. “I just want to know she’s safe.”

“And if I find her?” I asked.

“Tell her I’m worried,” he said. “Would you ask her to come home and visit me. And tell her – .” He paused. “Tell her I’m sorry. Will you do that for me?”

“Yes, all right,” I said. I did not believe this would be so difficult.

“And Martis,” Tinos continued, “if she objects or becomes angry with you, don’t argue.” He shot me a stern look from under his heavy brows. “Understand? Just come and tell me.” I nodded although I didn’t understand. Why would I quarrel with Atana? Why would Atana argue with me? More to the point: what exactly had happened between Tinos and his daughter? That was the real puzzle.

“I have to go now,” Tinos said, glancing at the sky. “It is almost time for the Showing. I’ll see you later.” He turned and started down the slope. I watched until he disappeared behind a thicket of trees.

I slowly made my way back to the throng of people gathered around the theater. I did not think I could force my way through the crowd to rejoin my fellow birds and besides I would not watch the Showing. Every spring the High Priestess and her consort copulated in full view of the people of Knossos. It was important for the fertility of this land. But now that I knew Tinos and knew him well, I couldn’t bear to see that ritual.

I pushed my way through the crowd at the bottom of the paved area. As I squeezed by a woman in the fashionable ruffled skirt and tight jacket, the lady wrinkled her nose and tried to move away. I guessed I stank of perspiration.

And then, with a collective sigh, everyone turned to look at the walkway below. The High Priestess, riding sidesaddle on a white bull, was approaching. Her unbound hair tumbled down her back and, instead of skirt and jacket she wore a loose white robe that left her neck and arms bare. Bronze bells hung from the bracelets on her wrists and ankles and they tinkled with every movement. The bull was also decorated; garlands of bright spring flowers festooned his horns and encircled his neck.

Usually, the High Priestess smiled and waved at the people of Knossos but her expression today was uncharacteristically grim.

I turned to look at the top of the stadium. The bull-masked consort waited, glistening with water, as if he had just arisen from the sea. The huge white bull’s head covered Tinos’s head and part of his shoulders, the horns tipped with gold and glittering in the sun. Even though I was not supposed to recognize Tinos, even though who else could it be but the High Priestess’s consort, I’d have recognized him anywhere. His broad shoulders tapered to the narrow waist where the thick twisted scar was just visible as it reached his back. Once a bull leaper, the scar served as a reminder of the bull’s horn that had caught him and ripped open his side.

The white bull came to a halt and the High Priestess’s attendants helped her down. She walked the last few yards to the bed at Tinos’s feet. When she reached him she slid the robe from her shoulders and stepped out of it. But she did not unfasten Tinos’s loincloth, as she had done every one of the nine years previously. Instead, after an awkward few seconds, Tinos slid off the garment himself.

I turned and fought my way through the audience, arriving on the other side of the crowd gasping and trembling. I’d seen this ritual enacted almost every year of my life but a year or two ago I had found I couldn’t watch it anymore. I knew that the bodies coming together on the stage were not the Goddess and Her consort but the High Priestess and Tinos acting their parts. And knowing Tinos and wishing he had his arms around me made everything different.

I set off running, fleeing the central court, to hide in the room in which the dancers changed.

***

Excerpt from Murder of Furies by Eleanor Kuhns. Copyright 2025 by Eleanor Kuhns. Reproduced with permission from Eleanor Kuhns. All rights reserved.

 

 

Review:

5 stars!

Another top-notch historical cozy mystery set in ancient Crete! 

A Murder of Furies is the third book in veteran author Eleanor Kuhns’s excellent Bronze Age Crete Mystery series, and with its riveting murder, political intrigue, and impeccably crafted, highly visual settings, historical mystery fans are sure to be absorbed by this mesmerizing tale just as I was. Martis, the young bull dancer and series sleuth, is drawn into the search for the missing daughter of her friend, Tinos, the consort of the high priestess, Potnia. Atana had stormed off after a heated argument with her father earlier in the week and had been avoiding him, but after her absence stretched to several days and several missed appearances at important religious rites, it is feared that she may have come to harm. The suspense rises when a young priestess, Tino’s younger sister, dies during a public ceremony, when she is bitten by an asp that had been secretly substituted for the sacred serpent that should have been in the basket the girl carried. To make matters worse, the young priestess had just been given Martis’s mother’s place in the ceremony and Nephele would normally have been carrying that basket. 

Martis is such a fun, relatable character, and I love coming back to this series just for her. She’s young and chafes at the restrictions and expectations placed on her by her mother and society for girls of her age and status. She just attained marriageable age, but marriage doesn’t interest her. However, she feels guilty about wanting to follow her own path for her mother’s sake, as she’s lost all three of her other daughters. Martis’s infatuation with Tinos is still causing her some heartache, but she’s perhaps beginning to feel less enamored as she matures. She continues to do all she can to avoid household chores and being stuck at home, though. 

Martis is diligent in her search for the missing Atana, and at the same time, she conducts a pretty logical investigation into the death of Phytia, Tinos’s sister, which includes sneaking into the House of the Priestesses and down to the docks and visiting with Tetis, in a complete disregard of her mother’s admonitions. She does a good job covering all the bases and chasing down any avenue of inquiry she can in pursuit of the truth, even when the stakes shockingly become so much higher. 

I loved the colorful and detailed descriptions of the Cretan settings, on land or in the harbor. The choreography of all the different religious and community ceremonies was fascinating and cinematic. The author really puts her readers smack in the middle of every scene. 

As the political intrigue enters the picture, the suspense intensifies, with the looming threats of betrayal, hunger for power, and jealousy. I was on the edge of my seat, wondering whether Martis would be able to get the answers she needed and if she would even be in a position to thwart the shocking plans that would change everything in her world. 

I recommend A MURDER OF FURIES to readers of historical cozy mysteries.

Author Bio:

Eleanor Kuhns is the 2011 Minotaur/Mystery Writers of America winner for first crime novel. She won for A Simple Murder and now has twelve books in the series.

A Murder of Furies is the third in the Bronze Age Crete Series which began with In the Shadow of the Bull.

A lifelong librarian, she transitioned to full time writing during the pandemic. She lives in upstate New York with her husband and her dog.

Catch Up With Eleanor Kuhns:

www.Eleanor-Kuhns.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub - @eleanorkuhns
Instagram - @edl0829
Facebook - @writerkuhns

Tour Participants:

Click through the other tour stops for can’t-miss reviews, insider interviews, exclusive guest posts, and more chances to win!

Click here to view the Tour Schedule

 

 

 

Explore A Murder of Furies, an Ancient Crete mystery, and enter to win!

This giveaway is hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Eleanor Kuhns. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

A MURDER OF FURIES by Eleanor Kuhns | Gift Cards

Can't see the giveaway? Click Here!

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours

Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway: On the Horns of Death (Ancient Crete Mystery, #2) by Eleanor Kuhns

ON THE HORNS OF DEATH

by Eleanor Kuhns

May 20 - June 14, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

An Ancient Crete Mystery

Ancient Crete, 1450 BC. When young bull leaper Martis finds Duzi, the newest member of the bull leaping team, dead in the bull pen early one morning. Made to look like he met his end on the horns of the bull, it's clear to Martis that this was no accident . . .

Martis once again finds herself thrown into a dangerous game of hunting down a murderer as the deaths start to mount. An old friend of Martis' sister, and possible lover to Duzi, is the next person to be found dead, and Martis' investigations lead her to believe love and jealousy are at the heart of these crimes against the Goddess.

Is someone targeting the bull leaping community? Or is there something else at play? With only the Shade of her sister Arge to confide in, Martis struggles to untangle the growing web of secrets which stretch around her.

Praise for On the Horns of Death:

"A clever, feisty, likable heroine, vivid descriptions of life in ancient Crete, and a complex murder make this a good pick for historical-mystery fans"
~ Booklist

"A wealth of historical detail"
~ Kirkus Reviews

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Mystery
Published by: Severn House
Publication Date: April 2, 2024
Number of Pages: 224
ISBN: 9781448310890 (ISBN10: 144831089X)
Series: An Ancient Crete Mystery #2
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Severn House

Read an excerpt:

One

Late again, I hurried down the stony slope into the caves under Knossos. Even from the top of the twisty path, I could hear the grunting and the nervous kicking of cage walls by agitated bulls. I increased my pace despite the slippery footing. I could smell the thick coppery scent of blood, far more intense than the usual odor of damp rock. Why was there blood? Something terrible was happening.

The oil lamps in the center of the cave cast a dim smoky light, but there were several, enough to see by. Although all the bulls were restless, most of the bull leapers were crowded around the foremost pen. ‘What’s going on?’ I asked Arphaia and Obelix as I reached the stone floor. Arphaia and Obelix had helped fill the hole left by the loss of my sisters.

Arphaia rolled her eyes at me and shrugged. ‘Don’t know.’ A short, sturdy girl, her skin was the color of ripe figs. Obelix was taller and paler and so slim she looked like a boy from the back. Like me, they’d tied their hair back into braids. ‘I’m busy here,’ Arphaia continued. She was helping Obelix pull her skirt over her loincloth, and I guessed the older girl had unexpectedly gotten her monthly. It was always an inconvenience for us women on the team.

‘Can I help?’

Arphaia shook her head. Glad to be excused – I was burning with curiosity – I hurried across the stone floor toward the cluster of older bull dancers by the cage. Ready for the upcoming ceremony, they wore only loincloths and boots.

‘Something upset the bulls,’ Geos said with a frown, running a hand over his bald head. He had trained all of us.

‘Especially the bull chosen for sacrifice . . .’ Elemon glanced anxiously at the pen. He was the most experienced of us but a recent injury had left him skittish.

I dropped my metal belt on the floor with a clatter and went to join the team. The bull in the pen was white – a pure white like the foam that came ashore from the sea. The largest and strongest of them all, he’d been chosen for our performance at the Harvest Festival today. After the six days of the celebration, he would be sacrificed to the Goddess. Other sacrifices would be made through out to the Dying God to thank him for the grape harvest, and the wine he’d taught us how to make. But this bull, the greatest of all, would be sacrificed last.

I approached the pen. The strikes against the wooden planks had loosened several. I tried to squeeze into the throng at the front, but no one would move away to let me through. I went around to the side and peered through a crack.

The white bull was trotting around the pen, lashing his tail, kicking up his front feet and grunting angrily. But he did not come near this side. Hmm. Why not? I crouched down to peer through a larger gap at the bottom.

And there, right in front of me, was the body of a man. I gasped and fell back. ‘Geos,’ I said in a trembling voice. When he did not hear me, I raised my voice. ‘Geos.’

‘What, Martis?’ He sounded harried.

‘Come here. There is a body inside the pen.’

‘What? Who is it?’

‘I don’t know.’ I shook my head. I hadn’t wanted to look. The body appeared to have been both gored and trampled by the bull. ‘I think this is why the bull is so nervous . . .’

Geos came around the corner. Although, at sixteen, I stood taller than him by several inches, now he stared down at me sitting on the rock floor.

‘Are you sure?’ He sounded disbelieving. ‘Why would anyone join a bull in the pen? These are not tame animals.’

‘I don’t know.’ I scooted backwards so he could crouch down beside me. Groaning, he lowered himself first to one knee and then to the other. Cautiously, using both hands, he collapsed to a sitting position. From there, he looked through the breach between the weathered wooden boards.

‘By the Goddess,’ he muttered, ‘you’re right. How could this happen!’ He struggled to rise. ‘We’ve got to get that body out of there. None of the bulls will settle . . .’

Turning, Geos shouted at the other bull dancers. ‘One of you, go find Tinos.’

As the High Priestess’s consort and the wanax who served as the chief administrator of Knossos and its environs, Tinos would be responsible for investigating this tragedy.

I rose shakily to my feet and peered into the pen next to the one occupied by the white auroch. This one was empty. Glad to have a problem to focus on, I said, ‘Maybe we can put the bull in here. And this wall’ – I gestured to the partition we’d been looking through – ‘is already damaged.’

Geos glanced into the empty pen and then turned his gaze on the battered fence. ‘Perhaps. But first we need to pull the body out. Once that is gone, maybe the bull will settle down.’

By now, the other bull dancers had joined us. Elemon shouldered me out of the way. ‘The boards are already damaged,’ he said. ‘Maybe we can pull them away and slide the body through.’

Geos nodded and his eyes shifted to the pen behind me. ‘We can take some of those pieces and use them to barricade the hole afterwards.’ As Elemon wrenched the boards away from the cage bottom, Tryphone grabbed the victim’s arm to pull him through. After a few seconds of futile struggle, Thaos, one of the other men, knelt down to help him. The body awkwardly inched forward.

I could barely watch. I could see that several bones were shattered and his arms flopped limply behind him.

Once he was free, we bustled around gathering wooden planks to place over the gap. I didn’t believe the bull could escape through the narrow opening at the bottom, but we covered it, nonetheless. No one wanted an angry animal charging around the caves, and he was still not settling down. Of course, the smell of blood hung heavily in the air.

‘What happened?’ Arphaia asked as she and Obelix approached us.

Before Geos could reply, excited chatter from the youngest of our team – all still congregated at the entrance to the arena – distracted us. Geos hurried around the pen, the rest of us following. Tinos had arrived. He was clad in a long robe banded with diagonal stripes of red and blue and wore his ceremonial knife on the belt around his waist. Apparently, he’d been pulled away from an important ritual. ‘What happened?’ he asked. ‘He’ – gesturing to Curgis – ‘told me you discovered a body in the bull’s pen?’

‘That’s right,’ Geos said. ‘I sent him to you.’

In his formal clothing, Tinos seemed older and much more serious than the man I knew and liked. ‘Show me,’ he said.

Geos glared at the kids. ‘Stay here,’ he said firmly. ‘This is not something any of you should see.’

Thirteen-year-old Costi curled his lip mutinously but didn’t argue.

‘I’ll watch them,’ Obelix offered. She was quite pale.

Arphaia glanced at her. ‘We both will,’ she said.

I did not offer. Although I did not want to look at the body, I did want to be near Tinos. I quickly joined the line of bull dancers following him and Geos to the side of the bull pen.

Tinos stared at the battered and bloodied remains on the floor for several seconds and heaved a sigh. ‘Who discovered the body?’ he asked.

‘Martis,’ Geos said.

Tinos shot me a look from under his thick black eyebrows. This was not the first time I had witnessed a violent death. ‘Of course, it would be,’ he said.

‘I could smell the blood when I got here,’ I said, rushing into speech. ‘And the bull was angry and upset. They’ – and I gestured to Elemon and Tryphone – ‘were here by the pen.’

Tinos glanced at the bull dancers, and then his gaze flicked to the pen where the white bull could be heard snorting and shuffling. ‘I see.’ He turned to Geos. ‘That white bull can’t be used in the ceremonies now.’

‘I know,’ Geos agreed. ‘He’s been tainted. But we have a few others.’ He pointed to the pens at the back of the cave. ‘Backups. The second choice is black, though. Not white.’

Tinos nodded. ‘He will have to be the one. A bull that murdered a man is no fit sacrifice to the Goddess.’

I thought of all the bull leapers who’d been gored or trampled by a bull during the ceremony and wondered why a wounding or a death in the course of a performance was acceptable to the Goddess. Because this had not happened during the Goddess-sanctioned ritual?

‘What possessed him to enter the cage?’ Tinos wondered aloud, pushing his hair to the back. When no one replied to what was clearly a question without an answer, he asked, ‘Does anyone recognize him?’

‘I don’t think any of us really examined him,’ Geos admitted apologetically.

Tinos raised his brows and looked around at us. Thaos and Curgis, the newer bull dancers, shook their heads and backed away. I refused to show such weakness in front of Tinos – I did not want him to think less of me – so I steeled myself and stared down at the body. Elemon cut through the crowd and joined me.

It was difficult to recognize the victim through the blood and the bruising. I thought his skin was naturally darker than the fair Elemon, but I couldn’t be sure. Finally, Elemon shook his head and stepped away to join the others. I continued staring at the body a few seconds longer – not at the face, but at the kilt around his hips. We all wore loincloths during the bull dancing. It was necessary to move freely, and we did not wear clothing like a long skirt that would catch on the horns. The victim’s garment was subtly different, longer and decorated with blue stripes.

‘I know who that is,’ I said, my voice breaking. ‘It’s Duzi.’

Two

‘Duzi?’ Geos said, staring at me in shock. ‘Are you sure?’ He too spoke softly so the others could not hear.

I nodded, too shaken to speak. I’d first seen Duzi a few weeks ago. Although my mother did not want me visiting the docks, insisting it was too dangerous, I still occasionally went. I counted Tetis, an Egyptian prostitute who worked there, as my friend. That time, as we were talking, Tetis stopped mid-word and stared over my shoulder. I turned to look.

Several Cretan sailors manhandled a prisoner off one of the slim naval ships. His heavy black beard, stretching all the way down his chest, and the battered bronze helmet with a spike in the center marked him as a foreigner. ‘A pirate,’ Tetis said with dislike. ‘More and more of them harass Egypt.’

By the time Duzi joined the bull leapers a week later, the helmet was gone and the beard shaved away. But the kilt girding his hips was the same one he wore now.

‘Who’s Duzi?’ Tinos asked, keeping his voice low so he could not be overheard.

‘A volunteer for the bull leapers—’ Geos began.

‘The navy brought him here,’ I said at the same time. ‘I saw them take him off a ship.’ My voice trembled, and Tinos raised his eyebrows at my emotion.

‘Ah. The pirate,’ he said. He knew my mother did not want me visiting the docks. But he didn’t scold me. Not this time anyway. ‘Did you know him well?’ I shook my head.

‘A pirate?’ Geos repeated incredulously, staring at Tinos. Crete had probably the best navy in the world; our cities and towns suffered little from the depredations of pirates.

‘Egypt asked for our help,’ Tinos explained. ‘The seafarers from the east – they target those rich cities of the Black Lands, and the cargo ships that trade with us.’

‘But they don’t dare attack us,’ Geos said in satisfaction.

‘Only once in a while,’ Tinos agreed with a smile. He turned and looked at the tunnel that led to the arena. Although he couldn’t see anything in the gloom, he said, ‘It must be time for the bull dancing and time for me to meet the High Priestess. On the way, I’ll tell the bull handlers that we won’t be using the white bull and they should take out the black one instead.’ He glanced first at Geos and then at the rest of us. ‘Please, don’t gossip about this tragedy. We don’t know what happened . . .’

I sneaked a look at Elemon and the others. They didn’t seem to realize the victim was Duzi – one of us.

Geos nodded. ‘I don’t want the kids to know either,’ he agreed. ‘Not until after the performance, at least. It’s dangerous enough as it is, without distraction. What possessed the young fool to go into the pen?’

‘And please, can we cover him up?’ Tinos added as he turned away.

‘Cover him with what?’ Geos muttered as Tinos disappeared into the tunnel. I looked around. All the bull leapers except for Obelix and me were clad in loincloths, and I was the only one wearing a jacket and a linen blouse as well as a skirt. At sixteen, I felt awkward running through the town half-naked so I covered my loincloth with street clothes. I slipped off the skirt and held it out to Geos. Although the skirt was an old one, and both faded and shabby, I wore it often. I would not be happy if Duzi’s blood stained it and made it unwearable. But right now, I didn’t see what else I could do.

Geos nodded his thanks and draped the garment over Duzi’s face. ‘And what am I supposed to do about bull leapers,’ the old man grumbled. ‘Half the team is too young and untried – still basically children.’

I knew Geos did not like sending me in. Geos and my grandfather had been close friends and although we honored the Goddess with the dance, it was dangerous. Injuries and, yes, deaths were common. Geos didn’t want to see me hurt. That was why he had been so ready to accept Duzi into our ranks. The barbarian was untried but also strong and lithe. He learned the acrobatics quickly. Geos had had high hopes for him.

I guessed today I would leap over the bull’s back more than a few times. Although we numbered thirteen without Duzi, we were only nine once the youngest – Costi, Nub and the twins – were taken out.

I dropped my linen blouse and jacket on the belt, stripped the bangles from my arms and ran my fingers through my hair to remove the hair clips and ropes of beads. Automatically, I dropped them on my clothing. But I did not join the line of bull dancers waiting to parade into the arena. Instead, I returned to the body. Poor Duzi. At least the protection of my skirt offered him some dignity. I shifted it to cover his face more thoroughly and saw to my dismay that the cloth was already stained. I doubted the marks would ever wash out. But with the blood wiped away, the wounds on Duzi’s face and chest were now more easily seen. There was something odd . . . As I bent over the body to get a closer look, Geos shouted at me.

‘Martis! What are you doing? Come on. We have to go. We’re late already.’

I jumped. ‘Coming.’ I quickly squeezed in between Arphaia and Thaos. After a growth spurt this past summer, I no longer stood at the front but in the middle.

Although it was not yet raining, the sky was overcast and the air was cool. The hot dry summer had ended, and we were moving into the cooler, wetter autumn. In another week or so, the farmers would begin sowing the wheat and barley in the fields.

But today, and for the next few days, we celebrated the grape harvest.

We were a somber group that paraded around the arena, entertaining the crowd with handstands and somersaults. As we queued up at one end of the space, and I looked at my teammates forcing smiles as they waved at the audience, I wondered how they would behave if they knew who lay dead in the bull’s pen.

With a self-conscious grimace, Obelix removed her skirt.

Flowers rained down upon us – but not the brightly colored blooms of spring. Mostly narcissi and crocus bloomed now, so we were showered in yellow and purple.

A few moments later, the bull handlers released the animal into the arena. The black auroch, although not a small animal, appeared smaller to me than the white bull. But this one also seemed more energetic. He snorted and pawed the ground in the middle of the arena, watching us with his shiny black eyes.

Elemon nervously touched the thick ropy scar that twined around his torso. He’d finally recovered from the wound sustained in a ceremony seven or so months ago, but it had been a difficult convalescence.

Tinos, still in his long robe, leaned forward, his face twisted with sympathy. He was a former bull leaper himself and wore a scar almost identical to Elemon’s around his waist.

Tryphone took up his position. He was two or three years older than I was and almost as dark as Duzi. Tryphone had come to Knossos from a town on the eastern side of Crete. I don’t think any of us knew why he’d left Gortnya and traveled east. But Geos had been overjoyed to discover Tryphone was already an experienced bull leaper.

At Geos’s nod, Arphaia moved around to the rear of the bull where she would catch us as we dismounted. Geos usually chose her as the catcher; a farmer’s girl, she was cautious but not afraid of the beast. But she was graceless as an acrobat. Short and stiff, her flips over the bull’s horns usually dropped her right behind the beast’s head in a clumsy sitting position.

Geos looked up at the High Priestess. As usual, she did not smile, and her expression was as rigid as a statue’s. Her obsidian-dark eyes flicked over us, and then she nodded. Geos gestured at Tryphone. He moved forward.

His bronzed arms reached out to grasp the bull’s horns, and his legs lifted up until I could see the soles of his boots. He used the momentum from the bull’s head toss to flip over, landing easily on the bull’s black back. With a salute and a bow to the High Priestess, Tryphone jumped down, barely touching Arphaia’s hand for balance.

Since Obelix and Thaos would jump after Elemon, who had just stepped forward for his performance, I allowed my mind to wander. Wondering what exactly Duzi had been doing in the bull’s pen was so much easier than imagining his fear as the bull charged. I recalled the drying streaks of blood; he had not died much before the arrival of us bull dancers. Of course, that did not tell me when he might have gone into the bull’s pen. Or how long he had been inside suffering the bull’s attacks.

My mind went reluctantly to my last sight of the body. Something bothered me about the wounds. I knew what the injuries caused by a bull’s horns and hooves looked like; during the last year, I’d seen more than I cared to. The blunted horns left craters and long gashes in human flesh. And the battering left by the monstrous hooves was especially memorable; the power and the weight of the bull resulted in large bruises and broken bones. But there was something—

‘Martis!’ Geos’s voice suddenly interrupted my thoughts. ‘What is the matter with you?’ Coming out of my deep thought, I blinked at him. He gestured at the bull standing in the middle of the arena. I gulped. I usually spent a few minutes mentally preparing myself for the run across the sand, the careful stretch out to grasp the bull’s horns and finally the leap up and over. ‘Go,’ Geos said impatiently.

***

Excerpt from On the Horns of Death by Eleanor Kuhns. Copyright 2024 by Eleanor Kuhns. Reproduced with permission from Eleanor Kuhns. All rights reserved.

 

 

Review:

5 stars!

Intriguing historical mystery uniquely set in ancient Crete. 

On the Horns of Death is the second book in Eleanor Kuhns’s unique historical series, the Ancient Crete Mysteries, and features a precocious and talented young female bull dancer as the main character and amateur sleuth. With its engaging protagonist and uncommon setting, this intriguing mystery completely immersed me in the life of this early civilization. 

Martis, the main character, is the 16-year-old daughter of a weaver priestess who trains and performs as a member of the troop of bull dancers during celebrations and religious ceremonies in Knossos. She’s a curious and precocious young woman and, like most at that age, is somewhat undecided on what path she wants her future to take. For now, though, she lives for the excitement and adrenaline rush of leaping over the horns of a charging bull in front of large crowds of people. Her quick wit and sharp eye for details give her insights others overlook but also get her into trouble, especially when on the trail of a murderer. Besides her unusual choice of entertainment, she’s a relatable and likable heroine. 

The plot starts with Martis’s discovery of the dead body of a new bull dancer. The assumed cause of death is from the bull in whose pen the victim was found. Right away, Martis notices oddities regarding the victim’s wounds and realizes there’s a murderer responsible for Duzi’s death. Unfortunately, the suspects include the other bull dancers, who are all Martis’s trusted friends and fellow performers, or several close friends of her older sister, Opis, who died the previous year, creating a difficult and sensitive dilemma for Martis in her investigation. She is assisted in her inquiries by the ghost of another deceased family member, Arge, her sister, who was murdered at her own marriage ceremony. 

The ancient setting on the island of Crete offers its own attractive and unique aspects to the story. Other than through this series, I am only vaguely familiar with this culture and time period and have thoroughly enjoyed the immersive nature of the author’s storytelling. I remember motifs from ancient pottery when reading descriptions of activities, clothing, and even hairstyles. 

With its endearing main character, unusual setting, and entertaining plot containing plenty of surprises, I recommend ON THE HORNS OF DEATH to traditional, historical, and cozy mystery readers.

*Read my review of Book One of the Ancient Crete Mystery series, In the Shadow of the Bull, here!

Author Bio:

Eleanor Kuhns is a previous winner of the Minotaur Books/Mystery Writers of America First Crime Novel competition for A Simple Murder. The author of eleven Will Rees mysteries, she is now a full-time writer after a successful career as the Assistant Director at the Goshen Public Library in Orange County, New York.

Catch Up With Eleanor Kuhns:
www.eleanor-kuhns.com
Goodreads
BookBub
Instagram - @edl0829
Twitter/X - @EleanorKuhns
Facebook - @writerkuhns

 

 

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and opportunities to WIN in the giveaway!

 

 

Don't Miss Out! Enter Now for Your Chance to Win!

This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Eleanor Kuhns. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

 

 

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours

 

Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway: In the Shadow of the Bull (Ancient Crete Mystery, #1) by Eleanor Kuhns

In the Shadow of the Bull

by Eleanor Kuhns

July 17 - August 11, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Ancient Crete, 1450 BC. In a world of Goddess worship, sacred snakes and sacrifice, human jealousy, resentment, and betrayal still run wild . . .

When her sister Arge drops to the floor in convulsions and dies at her wedding, fifteen-year-old Martis, a young poet and bull leaper in training, is certain she was murdered. The prime suspect is the groom, Saurus, from the Greek mainland, but when Arge's shade visits Martis, swearing Saurus is not the murderer, Martis vows to uncover the truth.

As Martis begins asking questions, she discovers that while Arge may have had no secrets, many of the people around her certainly do.

Praise for In the Shadow of the Bull:

"This complex, character-driven mystery is loaded with fascinating historical details"
~ Kirkus Reviews

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Mystery
Published by: Severn House
Publication Date: July 2023
Number of Pages: 224
ISBN: 9781448310869 (ISBN10: 1448310865)
Series: An Ancient Crete Mystery (#1)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Severn House

Read an excerpt:

Saurus was clad, not in a colorful loincloth, nor in the robe Cretan men wore for certain rituals, but in his leather armor. His wavy black hair spilled over his shoulders, un-oiled. And he carried his weapons, long knives in their scabbards, at his waist. His one attendant, his friend Kabya, stood behind him, dressed in like manner. Gasps of condemnation sounded through the crowd.

‘Does he think he’s going to fight someone,’ Mother said in angry disapproval.

Saurus looked around at the crowd, his eyes narrowed, and then he lifted his chin defiantly. Although I didn’t like him, I recognized his uncertainty. He knew we despised him and his barbarous ways.

When Saurus had first come to the palace, I’d been prepared to accept him. He knew my mother’s brother and had come with news of him. Like my uncle, Saurus was also a trader. At least he said he was, and we welcomed him into the house.

My dislike dated from that first day, before I knew he would take Arge from us. He examined me and my sisters with careless lechery. I’d just come from acrobatics and wore a boy’s loincloth. As his gaze swept over me, I shuddered with a strange prickly hot feeling. And then he dismissed me with a quick, indifferent turn of his head. Then the flush that burned through me was one of anger.

Despite my feelings, and his awkward broken Cretan, he’d quickly charmed all my sisters. And although Mother frequently eyed him with reserve, I saw them laughing together more than once.

At first, he’d spread his easy compliments among all my sisters – though I was invisible to him – but soon he paid more and more attention to Arge. A knot of worry formed on my mother’s forehead.

Several months after Saurus’s arrival, Arge announced she planned to marry him.

There was Arge now, in front of the mound of ash left by previous sacrifices. Against the deep purple of her jacket, her skin looked deathly pale. She’d pressed her mouth into a long thin line. Was she regretting her decision now? I looked up at the sky, so dark the stars spangled the expanse with flecks of silver, and sent another fervent prayer heavenward – ‘Please, Lady of the Animals and of Childbirth, stop this marriage. I will offer you all the honey from my bees.’

The High Priestess with her nine attendants suddenly appeared from the shadows, stepping through the trees into the torchlight. Their eyes sparkled and one of the attendants stumbled. They were drunk on the sacred liquor, a mixture of beer, wine, fermented honey and herbs. The priestesses wore the sacral knot tied at the nape of their necks, above the tight jackets. to show they were in service to Her who gave us life. Some of them wore doves on their heads, live doves tied to the headdress by the feet, for love. Three of the women carried baskets.

Instead of a dove, the High Priestess carried snakes in her headdress, living snakes that coiled as high as they could from the bindings, flicking their tongues and hissing. Snakes to promote fertility in this new marriage.

As the High Priestess approached the altar, a soft moan of anticipation whispered from the crowd. The goats began struggling even harder against their bonds as they caught the scent of the snakes. The Priestess, who did not seem to notice the throng of people standing on the other side of the altar of ash and bone, turned to the first attendant. She took away the lid and removed the large heavy snake from the basket to coil it around her waist. The remaining two baskets yielded additional snakes. Chanting sonorously, she allowed the snakes to twine up her arms.

I could not repress a tremor of remembered fear and my mother glanced at me. Only nine at Opis’s wedding, I’d been so terrified by the snakes that Arge had had to carry me from the ceremony. I looked at Arge now. Her expression was fixed in a grimace of pain.

Suddenly she fell to the floor, writhing in convulsions and spilling bloody vomit from her mouth.

For several seconds no one moved. The Priestess’s chant continued, then lurched to a stop mid-syllable. Pandemonium erupted. Screaming, Mother ran to her daughter and fell to her knees beside her. After a moment of frozen disbelief, Opis and Nuia followed at a run. I couldn’t move. I stared in horror at Arge’s body lying on the stones. What had I done? I’d pleaded with the Goddess to halt the wedding and She had. But why this way? Why kill Arge, the sweetest and most unassuming of all women? Raising my face to the sky, I began to sob. The stars in the sky blurred together into streaks of silver. ‘Why?’ I asked the Goddess. ‘Why?’

This was my fault: the Goddess had answered my prayers.

***

Excerpt from In the Shadow of the Bull by Eleanor Kuhns. Copyright 2023 by Eleanor Kuhns. Reproduced with permission from Eleanor Kuhns. All rights reserved.

 

Review:

5 stars!

A vivid, immersive murder mystery featuring a fresh, young amateur sleuth in ancient Crete. 

In the Shadow of the Bull is the debut novel of author Eleanor Kuhns's new series, the Ancient Crete Mysteries, and with its vivid descriptions and engaging, headstrong main character, it is sure to please readers of the historical mystery genre. I was hooked on this story and by this precocious young sleuth from the very first page, and this book is one of my favorites so far this year. 

I absolutely fell in love with Martis, the young daughter of Nephele, a handmaid to the high priestess, Potnio, and the slave, Bais, her partner. She's a young, immature 15-year-old on the verge of womanhood, who is still more interested in childish endeavors than growing up. But this all changes with the death of her much-loved sister, Arge. Martis's guilt over her well-meaning plea to the goddess to circumvent Arge's marriage is wrenching, and the anguished request from her sister's still-Earthbound spirit to find her killer compels her to bring a murderer to justice. 

Kuhns's wonderful and easy-to-read writing makes the ancient setting on the island of Crete fairly leap off the page. Her well-described images - sights, sounds, and smells - were so evocative I felt as if I were with Martis every step of the way. Her amateur investigation follows a sensible path, and she must set aside her own prejudices to uncover the truth. Despite being a young woman rather than a child, Martis reminded me somewhat of Alan Bradley's Flavia de Luce in attitude and spirit. I can hardly wait for her next adventure! 

With its unique setting, distant time period, and likable main character, I recommend IN THE SHADOW OF THE BULL to readers who enjoy historical mysteries with a touch of paranormal elements, especially those with an interest in ancient Crete. 

Author Bio:

Eleanor Kuhns is the 2011 winner of the Minotaur/Mystery Writers of America first mystery prize for A Simple Murder. That was the first in the Will Rees series. She went on to write ten more.
In the Shadow of the Bull is the first in the Ancient Crete Mystery series.

Catch Up With Eleanor Kuhns:
www.Eleanor-Kuhns.com
Goodreads
BookBub
Instagram - @edl0829
Twitter - @EleanorKuhns
Facebook - @writerkuhns

 

 

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and opportunities to WIN in the giveaway!

 

 

JOIN IN ON THE GIVEAWAY:

This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Eleanor Kuhns. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

 

 

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours