Quick! Before They Find Their Mistake!

"Bow" has made it to the Top 100 free Kindle historical fiction ebooks as of this morning (click on the blog post heading to go there). This can't be right (good thing it's Halloween and not April 1), but it's fun to look at until someone discovers the error!

Cereal, Anyone?

OK, you know I meant serial. Here are the first pages of Book I of the trilogy. I'll be posting more periodically, or you can get the entire novel wherever ebooks are sold. Comments and criticisms graciously accepted.

•••

In 2010, archaeological students from the University of Athens, working with Dr. Kostas Vranas at the Artemonas dig site on the Greek isle of Sifnos, were contacted by workers of the nearby stone quarry. They had made a remarkable discovery: buried in the soft clay just west of the excavation were three chests lined with layers of tin and beeswax, containing over two hundred scrolls of parchment in almost perfect condition. An additional chest of writing tablets was for the most part ruined, the wood frames rotten, the inscribed wax melted or eaten away.

The translation by the author is an unprecedented account of events preceding the demise of Republican Rome, authored by Alexandros of Elateia, a slave in one of Rome’s mightiest houses. As was the custom, Alexandros identified the passage of time not by the number of the year but by the names of the consuls elected to lead the senate for their annual term. To give the reader a more useful frame of reference, we have divided the narrative into both parts and chapters, added the BCE convention to denote the year, and provided the season and place. A glossary is included at the end of the text.

•••

Prolog

20 BCE   -   Summer, Siphnos, Greece

Year of the consulship of

Marcus Appuleius and Publius Silius Nerva

The boy comes bearing honeyed tea onto the blue tiled terrace with its too-white stuccoed walls. I shan’t call him ‘boy’ to his face, though, or risk forfeiting my foot massage. Say what he will, his scars are almost thirty years younger than mine. Though his were earned in battle and mine are of a different nature entirely, to me Melyaket will always be “boy.” Now he waits patiently for me to set down the stilus. I have long stopped trying to convince him that it is I who should serve him, for I know he will but smile thinly and ignore me as always. So be it. I am ancient and frail and the tea is hot and aromatic. Of course there is also the matter of my feet.

Enough of the Parthian bowman; how he and I came to this island sanctuary is a tale for another telling. This recounting does not belong to Melyaket, nor would I presume to lay claim to it for myself. This is my lord’s story, and I pray the gods grant me strength and time to tell it. My master is long dead; few mourned his passing; fewer still recall his name with kindness. More than thirty years have passed since his ignoble death in the dirt at the feet of his enemies. The memory of that heat-drenched day, encrusted with grime and blood and clouded by the dusty haze of battle yet returns to me with glittering clarity. His mocking Parthian captors, their barbarism and bloodlust palpable as they towered over him, pricked him with their taunts and jeers, swords poised to pierce his unarmored heart. Yet when the moment came, they were robbed of the release the mortal blow would have granted both murderers and murdered. For it was Melyaket who slew my lord.

•••

There is much to tell. Nicias has sent men to scour the town for ink, reeds and parchment. I am anxious for their return, for these tablets are all but useless for my intention. It would take a forest of their frames to fill my need. I shall use them for my notes and musings. Now they sit before me, prepared with freshly melted wax, piled so high on my writing table that unless I rise from this cushioned chair, a feat for which I find I lack both the strength and the inclination, the splendor of the sea below, bronzed and burnished by the setting sun, can only wink at me between the cracks. I pull a simple string necklace from around my throat and find the single scallop shell that adorns it. With my thumb I absentmindedly rub its inside surface, grown glossy with age and use, admitting a rising tide of memory.

News has reached us from Rome:  the standards of my master’s legions, pried from the twisted fingers of their fallen bearers and flaunted under the shamed chin of Rome for each day of their captivity have finally been ransomed, by no less a negotiator than Caesar Augustus himself. For thirty-five years they were held hostage behind the throne at Ctesiphon, the Parthian capital, a mockery of the invincibility of Rome. Though my body wrinkles and shrivels like a Persian peach forgotten in the desert sun, the memory of the day they were lost remains as ripe and raw as a newly drawn knife cut.

To the cruel and superstitious Roman, whether soldier or senator, these are more than poles covered in hide and metal, wood and bone. They are the very essence of Rome, imbued by the gods themselves with the divine mystery of its dominance and superiority. But to me they have always been absent and ironic reminders both of liberty and of loss. I care not, after all these years, that these eagle-festooned sticks have been returned to the bosom of Rome, a poisonous breast where I shall be pleased never to rest my head again.

Tulio writes that the return of the standards has caused such riotous celebration in the streets it is as though Parthia itself had been vanquished. The rabble’s ignorance is as supple and resilient as its memory is arthritic. And what of the nobles who cling with a slippery and tenuous grasp to the tether that holds the mob in check? They must remain blameless, their pristine togas unblemished by any crimson reminders of our misadventure.

Dining Room Etiquette

The triclinium, in all the better Roman homes, was the place around which the feasting and partying took place. Each wide lectus, or couch, held up to three people. For larger parties, more triclinia were provided. Dinners lay on their left side and reached up over the edge of their couch for the goodies placed before them by the dining room slaves.

You can see from this diagram that there was a definite pecking order as to who reclined where. The 'seating' arrangement tried to honor the most important guests while at the same time promoting harmony and lively conversation.

For more information, click the title of this post

Getting Your Bearings

Here's a simple map to help you get oriented in late Republican Rome. You can see the Carinae hill to the east of the Palatine, where Sulla gave Crassus his first home (fictional).

The Palatine hill, overlooking the forum, is where Crassus eventually built his estate. The photograph (by Anne Beach) looks down from the Palatine onto the forum. You can see it is not a very tall hill. Eve Anderson gives us another angle.

Shift-clicking on any image will open it in a separate window where it can be more easily magnified.

Bite of the Apple

"Bow" is now up at Apple. If you're an iPad reader, or someone who loves to read books right on their iPhone (Margie are you listening), then you're all set. Just open iTunes and search for me or the book. If you have any problems, please let me know.

Good News

"Bow" was accepted in the Smashwords' Premium Catalog. Now that we're in, the book will 'ship' to major online ebook retailers, like like Amazon, Sony, B&N, Kobo and Apple. They tell me it will take about two weeks before it will show up in their online catalogs.

Thank you, Steve

Just got the news of Steve Jobs passing. I bought my first 128k Mac in 1984. I'm typing on a MacBook Pro now. Our lives are so much richer because of Apple, even if it's only because they kept Big Blue on its toes. PC's are better because of Macs. We are better for having been lucky enough to live in the same age as Steve Jobs.

The Game Plan

Wondering when Book II of the trilogy will be available? My goal is to have it finished no later than September 1 of next year. And another 11 months for Book III. I will try to do better, if my day job allows. There, now that it's out in the ether, that should discourage me from taking five years to finish the next installment.

Thanks for your patience.

Only 6 days left to get your copy of Book I for free. Unless you are an active member of the military, in which case all my novels will continue to be available at no cost through Operation eBook Drop.