As promised, here is another (admittedly short since the rest of the chapter is still being edited) excerpt from the The Owl & the Eagle. It's from the POV of King Alexander, who is somewhat of a mysterious character in Herodotus. Is he supporting the Hellenes or the Persians...?
Macedonia
Summer 481 B.C.E.
King Alexander swirled his wine filled cup and watched the sun melt into the sea, the light making puddles in the dark, foaming waters beyond the strip of rocky land. Days ago it had vanished from sight, shrouded by the moon's gray pall. The eclipse had left him shaken, and then there was the letter that arrived this morning to chill his blood even more. Only two lines and full of ominous warning. Do not resist. It is futile. Were they words urging him to caution? Or telling him of his fate? He drained his cup. “There are no witnesses,” he said aloud. If they came looking for the giant, they would only find bleached bones.
He was alone on the balcony, but could not resist caressing the hilt of his sword. He was never without it. The Persians might come for him any day now, and lay the charge of murder at his feet. Sixteen charges for sixteen men. The thought filled him with dread. He knew what the Empire did with murders. He knew what it did with traitors, too. His hand tightened around the hilt. The scabbard was inlaid with gold and silver, the blade finely forged. The sword was a gift from his Persian in-laws, meant to tie the two royal houses together through the marriage of one of their generals and his sister, but really it was a fetter that bound him to their service. It was the price he had to pay to keep his secrets.
A strong wind tugged at the king's dark green himation. It was always windy on the peninsula. Here the North Wind bent blades of summer grasses in the fields and valleys, pushed at rocky hills, and ruffled the restless waters below Mt. Athos. For countless centuries Boreus had kept away pirates and invaders with his cold whispers. Once his icy breath and piercing howls gave the king comfort, but no more.
Below the palace the sound of construction shook the air, along with barked instructions and curses in a dozen different tongues. In a steady line stretching west to east towards the peninsula’s outer edge, men in dirty loincloths crouched in deep trenches, digging deep into the land, their spades biting into the stubborn clay-filled earth. Others shifted buckets of soil and silt from the earth and handed them to the people above. Their overseers were dressed in bright colored robes that glinted in the sun, whips coiled at their waist like sleeping vipers. Sliding nervously past them slaves shouldered heavy wicker baskets full of food and supplies along the work lines, stooping low to hand out wares to the workers before they stood up, warily shrugged their baskets higher onto their shoulders, and continued on. The work in this heat was unpleasant no doubt, but the king would not be sad if they all dropped like flies. The foreigners were a swarm of locus, emptying his granaries and wasting his wine and harassing his people. For two years the construction of the canal had been going on. For two years it had drained his resources and been an affront on his sovereignty. The project was nearly finished, but Alexander knew his woes were just beginning.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Princess of Persia
Still working on my O&E chapters (the one with Alexander that I want to put up is a bit complicated so it's taking more time to finish than I thought). In the meantime, enjoy this above delightful picture of me and game hottie the Prince of Persia. As you can see, I'm the power behind the throne. ;P
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Themistocles in Aegina
The wind whipped his hitoman about his legs and arms and hit him with the sharp, tangy scent of salt water and pitch. We're close now, Themistocles thought. He could see the ship sheds over the ridge, their steepled roofs rising and falling like red tiled waves, ringing round the harbor and jutting to either side like a perfectly shaped omega. The ships, tarred black with pine resin gleamed in the dull sunlight. As they made their way down to the harbor they could hear the buzz of human voices muted by the roaring surf and sharp cry of sea birds. "That man spoke the truth. The sea is rough today," Mnes said. "Nikandros is a fool. It would be easy enough to postpone the race for a few days." Themistocles said nothing. He agreed, but the enthusiasm of the masses waxed and waned and the promise of a more dangerous race had brought them out en mass, hoping to see action. Their appiteite was huge. And isn't that what I wanted? He made his way to his ship shed, where Cunning was just now being brought down the ramp by a large group of men. Her hull jutted out proudly, her marble eyes promising mischief. Now there's a good wife. Boyent, beautiful, obedient and serves me well.
They would have to make their way carefully; the straits of Salamis were narrow and windy, and hidden shaols and what not were waiting to catch the ship up. Thems could here the clicking language of dolphins even through everything and Thems smiled. That was a good sign. Stories claimed if a man was shipwrecked the dolphins would push him to shore. As they rowed they passed a small fishing vessel making its way from Salamis, the startled fishermen gawking at the trireme. Until the wake caught them and then they toppled over each other. He hoped the dolphins were still nearby.
The man guaffed. "Salamis? Look around you, my good man. You're not on Salamis." Themistocles frowned around the clouded mist. It had hid the seashore but now was breaking up a bit, swirling away with the wind and revealing a rocky bank further inland and patches of stubborn seagrass. Salamis was a sleepy little island full of fisherfolk and modest villages. This was a crowded seaside villa, the evidence of an industrious city-state. Above on pine clad hills were colorful buildings lined up like a row of crooked square teeth in too small a mouth, shouldering agianst each other as though each wanted to be the first to dive into the sea. Dive into the sea. Themistocles knew with a sinking feeling the man had spoken the truth. When he turned back the man favored him with a cruel smile. "Welcome to Aegina, my Athenian friends. You're all under arrest."
Themistocles stared around the hall, made of gray-veined marble and limestone, a six colum wide and seven columed bulding with enough open space for a hundred men or so. There were only half that number now, but all fourty nine were hostirle towards him. Themistocles made sure to note who was curious and who was angry. None smiled or even looked sympathetic. He knew he looked terrible and smelled worse, and the fetters did not help either.
Aegina was a mountainous volcanic rock that jutted out of the Saronic Gulf, its inhabitants of Doric ancestory and therefore a quarelsome and stubborn people, which made them nearly as irritating as their land-lubbing kin in Laconia. The city-state was an ogliarchy reigned by maritime traders, their coin stamped with the image of a turtle. The Aegians were said to love their silver the way Lydians loved their gold. Themistocles wondered how much of Athens' silver it was going to cost to win his freedom. I need that money for my ships! His ships. He turned to look back east. Perhaps they would mount a rescue, or use this as a reason to formally invade. The Assembly would have no problems with that. The island was not exactly a haven for for a fleet, but if drawn out into the ocean Athens' sturdy ships and superior numbers would render Aegina's small swift fleet vulnerable to attack from the wind and waves. And ship rams. If only the Alcamaedae were smart enough to see the opportunity in this. He sighed. But they were stupid, and would only smirk he was out of their hair. The common men will see the insult. He had reminded them enough of Marathon and their place in glory. But who will lead the charge? No. He couldn't count on the Assembly. Too much like sheep, and the Alcamaenae too much like wolves. He still suspected their trechery. He would have to free himself and the ships. And the crew, of course. He glared at the Captain's back. The massive bruise on his shin a result from his boot.
At first the men had protested--some had even been dumb enough to reist--but the soldiers, or maybe sailors was a better word--managed to chain them up quickly and start the long march towards the magistrate. The man hadn't believed he was a general, though Themistocles supposed most men in high positions of government didn't volentarily row ships or socialize with their social inferiors. [sorry general we thought you were one of them. I am, he said placidly.] It was interesting to note that the rowers were no better socially than in Attica; perhaps he could use that to his advantage.
There were taken in chains up the steep mountain top, a temple looming majestically atop the acropolis. As they slowly wound their way uphill, Themistocles tried to remember everything he knew about Aegina. Knowledge was the key to survival. Instead of being paraded on the main roads they took smaller paths that were full of dry brush and dusty air that even the sea breeze did little too diminish. As the storm broke up the Aegean bled through the mist like spilled [Egyptian/Phonecian?] ink, and inland rows upon rows of colorful well-kept houses appeared, most four colums across (bigger houses need more colums?). Evidence of brisk ocean trade, and if not so wealthy as Corinth still well-to-do. What surprised Themistocles in spite of himself was the sudden appearence of a palace or two in the distance--something not seen in Attica since the Pistratid lands were divided up. The few people about-farmers with creeking wagons pulled by sleepy mules or merchants on horseback with the occasional slave weaving around them--gave them puzzled looks and hailed the gaurds and said only "Athenians." It was all they needed to say--the quizzical frowns turned into nasty grins. That doesn't bode well, Thems thought. They followed the winding roads, their captors saying little though they smirked openly at their windfall. And why not? For ten years Athens had held their most prominant civilians as hostages, a strange but welcome gift from their former enemies at Sparta. Now the tables had turned, and Themistocles knew that there would be no easy way out of this. He had to think fast. Those hostages back in Athens were the only leverage he had against this. They won't kill us. They know they can't. Their men will die if we do. But probability was not certainty.
The men looked at him, their faces a mixture of accusation and fear. "Let me do the talking," he told them over a meal of crusty bread and brackish water. "I have practice turning a room full of enemies into alies." It was true. He had escaped ostracism twice, convinced men to pay for warships instead of dividing funds among themselves, and swindled one of the most prominent men of Athens out of his only daughter. Though the latter might have been more a loss than a gain. "Now lisen. I may have to slither and grovel like a worm, but I'll get us out of this alive, I promise." They looked as if they almost believed him.
"Themistocles of Athens, you are hearby charged with intention to spy and land without permission upon our city-state. The penalty for Athenians is death."Little good we'll be dead," Themistocles said as casually as he could. "You'll have to build gallows or build a pit to throw us in or pour wine down our throats until he die. Although I wouldn't mind the latter, you'd have to import wine from Attican vineyards, and your people may not like that." A few chuckles sounded. A good start. "It costs nothing to throw you into the ocean," one pointed little man snapped. "I wonder," Themistocles said coldly. "How much is a man's life worth I wonder? How much is ten?" The sharp one snorted. "Ten against your dozens seems a fair bargain to me. And Crius and his ilk were a nuisance at any rate. None are sad to see them go." "I"m not that popular myself, but killing a Marathon man let alone any citizens of Athens will incite wrath in our Assembly. You may have noticed we arrived on a ship. There's plenty more where THAT came from. So whatever you do to us will be paid back ten fold to your own." "Is it war you want, Themistocles of Athens? Just say the word, and Attica will be drenched in blood. We're not afraid of you and your ships." "The waters here are narrow and trecherous, you could bring 1000 ships here and the storms would crash them and a well trained navy could easily manuver you into position and ram them. "Though I am a general, Sir, I live in a democracy and cannot speak for the whole of my citizens. That is how we do things in Athens. In any case, I'd say not war but peace is best between us. There is a much bigger threat coming this way." The man frowned. "Persia?" "Indeed. A hostage exhcange and a pledge of peace will make all the difference." I don't like this," the chubby youth murmmured. "Just a few weeks ago that volcano (Meghana) was smoking and a series of tremmers. Then the eclipse. I fear the gods are trying to tell us something." "That's there's trouble coming, no doubt." The sharp little man pointed at Themistocles. "And if we align ourselves with this man and his Athenian friends we're sure to be dragged into it. I say we remain out of the drama." "You can see this ugly rock from Pireus," Themistocles pointed out. "And if the Mede decides to vacation in our city, they can see it too." The men exchanged uncertain looks. "So be it. We'll send a messenger to Athens and have a hostage exchange arrranged at once." Themistocles smiled. Perhaps the storm was no accident. Perhaps the gods were with him afterall. Suddenly a comotion outside could be heard. For a moment Themistocles feared the ship's crew had tried to break free and were trying to break into the hall. When the huge marble doors were pulled inward however it was not his men but something far worse: the Spartans.
The leader was an ape of a man, stout, muscled like a bull and offensively ugly. He was dressed in full armor, as though he meant to lead his men into a full-phalanx charge. Their scarlet cloaks and long hair were identical in nearly every way, and will the man wore no helmet the others did, as though they expected battle to break out any minute. "Who are you?" the beak-nosed man demanded. "Eurybates, Navarch of Sparta." The man's bronze armor was turning due to the salty air of the sea. Clearly he was a Navarch in name only. He looked like he had never cracked a smile in his life. He certainly didn't do so now. "What do you want?" "The Spartan king Leonidas sends word to let the Athenians go." The room exploded in outrage. The leaders openly cursed or guaffed. "You Spartans are as stupid as you are ugly. Ten years ago your crazed king Cleomeones came here demanding hostages and we were forced to hand them over to Athens. Now that we have Athenian hostages you want us to let them go. You Spartans had best make up your mind." The Spartan men shifted hands to swords. "Don't threaten us with those nail files you brutes," the beak-man screeched. This is no good. Both sides were Doric stubborn and neither would budge. If I don't say something now that Spartan will draw his sword. Spartans never made idle threats with their weapons, and the Navarch's hand seemed to twitch with a strained effort. "We have hostages. They have hostages. Why argue? Why not a hostage exchange?" he asked. "You be quiet, Themistocles of Athens." The Navach's glare slid over to him. "You're Themistocles?" His tone was dubious. "I am, Navarch. I appreciate your king's request. I owe him a great deal, although I'm afraid you've come all this way for nothing. The Aeginians and I have come to a reasonable agreement." The man studied him suspiciously. ""They will let us go provided we return Cruis and the others to Aegina." "The hostages will be let go because a Spartan king says so," the man retorded angrily. "
Leotychidas stared at nothing. In truth he could insist on them releasing the hostages--that would do much to repair his damaged reputation. Those damn Athenians! He still had not fogiven them their insult. It would silence his critics at home as well and might earn him a measure of respect from the Lion's Den, though he doubted it. He was a Eurypontid, meant to be clever at negotiation, but somehow he lacked his uncle's ability to strtegize or his cousin's ability to placate. Cleomeones was dead ten years now yet people still thought him a lapdog to the Agiad. Yet there was still the matter of Persia. If we involve ourselves in a fight, we could be overtaken by rebels. It was especially restless out there if even Dieneces couldn't get a handle on things. Where is Dems? He heard the boots stomping towards him. Only one person stalked around Sparta in a huff for no reason. "Jason." "You Highness." The youth inclined his head. He had grown accustomed to the name, and seemed to answer to it more readily than his true name, and so Leotychidas continued to call him by his hall name; now everyone did so. "A summons from the Lion's Den." Leotychidas grunted. He had ignored the summons twice already but now was required to appear before the council on the third one. It was a small measure of revenge, a way to salvage his pride. If it bothered Leonidas, the man made no show of it. He's a lump of ice, not a man. He had displayed so once again with his request to send an assembly to Aegina, cold and disspasionate yet oddly persuasive. The Gyrosia was divided and had been for a long time, an even mix of man who had supported his cousin and those that supported Cleomenes. The Agiad king commanded their respect though, and his rare requests were always granted.
"We wish to go with you." Marchois arched an eyebrow at them. "To Persia?" "To the king," Bulis told him. "None save noble blood can just appear before the king," the man explained patiently. "But perhaps I can send along vessels of earth and water--" "It is not a submission," Sperthius snapped. "We wish to amend a terrible mistake," Bulis added with a look meant to silence the older Spartan. His Inspirer had once been known to be outspoken by rocks he was so quiet, but lately the man had been unable to harness his tounge. Clearly Athens was to blame. "Ten years ago our king Cleomenes ordered the deaths of two Persian heralds. We wish to erase that debt." "No amount of money or words can atone for that," Marchois warned them. "But blood might," Bulis said. "We two are Heraclids, men of high birth and prestige, willing to die so that Sparta may live," Sperthius declared. Marchois frowned thoughtfully. "Not the first time I've heard similar words from an exile such as yourself [Dems]. Very well. It is a great risk, but no man ever won a battle without some risk, or so I have been told." He smiled, reminding them of Themsitocles' earlier words. "I will write to Hydranes in somewhere and tell him of your arrival. He can pass word on to Artiphranes who is brother to the king and satrap of Lydia. I cannot gaurentee you will the king personally, but perhaps your message will reach him. Now gather your things quickly. We sail on the morning tide."
"I tried inviting the Spartan but when I made a joke about a Spartan cup of wine he growled at me and stalked off." "They're very sensative about such things," Aristides said diplomatically. Xanthippus was less kind. "They're hypocrites. I hear they're king was crazy because he drank so much." "They consider wine not well-watered to be unseemly. I stayed just outside of Sparta, and though they didn't say so, they clearly disaprove of our way of life."
"I swear Themistocles you're worse than your wife!" Xanthippus snarled. Worse than my wife? When Aristides gave his college a withering look he knew something was afoot. "What does Arch have to do with anything?" "In truth General it was her idea for us to help you," Aristieds said slowly. "I had the misfortune of being seen by a guard and went to hide in the ally, though that didn't help my cause. Nikandros' son and his band nearly ran her over. I pulled her out of the way, and she recognized me." "How fortunate." Try as he did he couldn't stop sarcasm from entering his voice. His wife had been no doubt elated to run into her imaginary sweetheart. "Nikandros thinks because he married my wife's cousin he's Acamaedae but I assure you the whole family is made up of a bunch of idiots." Xanthippus waved his hand dissmisivly. "The only one able to even afford a worse is that impetious boy of his. The rest he bought for his friends." "No worries there," Themistocles told them. "That idiot group is going to make a bad mistake, and Cimon will be more than happy to catch him." The youth boiled to get his hands on his rival, but could not do so until an actual crime was comitted. Arch was right though: there needed to be a formal law against all that riding about before someone got seriously hurt. "In any case, I didn't ask you hear to talk about hoodlums and my wife's inability to stay out of trouble, I need you to help me pursuade the Assembly-" just then the backgate swung open and crashed against the stones. All were up from their couches at once. Siccinnus stalked towards him, sword unsheathed as though enemies were in front or behind him. "Good gods he's going to kill us!" Xanthippus cried, clawing for a sword he didn't have. Aristides at least knew better. "What is it, slave? What is amiss?" Sic ignored him. "Master. There is a high-ranking Persian in the city." The men gasped. "What? Where?" Xanthippus' head swirved. "He is heading in this direction. Of that I am sure." "Gods!" Xanthippus swore. "Clam down rock-head he's not going to start a fight in the middle of the city," Thems said even as his stomach churned. A Persian inside the city. A spy? "Sic how did you know?" The slave frowned around him. Ah. The trust issue. "It's OK Sic, they helped me and now I owe them the truth." Or some part of it. "Now tell me what happened." "A few days ago I was told there were two strange men in the city." He frowned at the ostragized Athenians. "But then I caught sight of a man near the Athenian fire temple he was...his words were different from other prayers. I followed him to his master's place in Phaleum and saw his master's dress." "That's why you dissapeared." Sic nodded. "I did not wish to alarm the mistress." "Good thinking." The news would only kindle her paranoia about that supposed prophecy. "We'll have to accomodate our guest, won't we? Xenos!" The boy approached him ashen-faced. "Don't be scared everything will be fine. Just wake up Cook and then mix another bowel of wine. Just tell Daisy some late-night gate crashers are coming and to get another wheel (?) or cheese and see if there's any lamb or squid left. Go on." The boy nodded, mute as a post as he ran into the kitchen as if an army of Medes were right behind him. The Spartan [is there?] frowned thoughtfully at Sic. "I think you would be a good match for Cerb," he murmmered. Whatever that meant. He heard voices then, and expected to see a fish-scaled warrior stroll through the door, but instead it was Cimon. He nearly groaned. No. Not now. He seemed to have made an enemy of time itself. "Strange to see your gate open in the middle of the night," the youth said in clipped, precise tones. His golden badge of office glittered proudly against his purple cloak, something most men wouldn't wear in such atrocious heat. The youth barely seemed to sweat."Your Highness what brings you here?" Themistocles tried not to seemed rush. He wanted to drop kick the boy over the wall! "Sorry father," a youth said breathlessly behind him. "Pericles, you moron! What do you think you're doing?" "You dissapeared for so long I was sure they had caught you. I only wanted to..." the boy trailed off. "He came in to my office demanding--demanding! to see his father. I told him I had no idea what he was talking about but was sure Xanthippus was in the city and illegally! The boy thought you were in some sort of trouble, and we've been looking for you ever since, for his sake I kept it quiet until I could confirm your presence. Now that I have I must arrest you all." "Don't be stupid!" Thems and Xanthippus said at the same time. "You can't!" Pericles added, horrified. "I have my duty," Cimon said cooly. Considering Xanthippus was the one who wanted to execute his father, this must have been a great moment of triiumph. Behind him were a guard of Scythian archers, almost lazily leaning against the door. The Spartans and Sic looked ready to form a phalanx. The archers seemed ready to go, and the Persians were edgy for sure. Only Marchois and Aristides seemed calm, though Marchois arched an eyebrow at Sic, who had thrown himself in front of Thems, who in turn was utterly baffled. There's going to be a war in my courtyard! He could practically feel the stones beneath his feet humming with battle. "Could we all just sit down and have a cup of wine?" Thems said as lightly as he dared. He felt like sicking up. Everything that could go wrong seemed to be going wrong all at once. "If you sit two or three to a couch I'm sure we can all have a nice time." Nobody moved. Then Marchois glided over to a couch and sat down, all smiles and nods. The Spartans sat down backs straight on one, clearly not willing to share and expecting a fight, for they were both even more stone-faced and had thrown back their cloask, hands on sword hilts. No empty threat there. Xan and Ari sat down on another. Pericles sat by Thems, terrified of his father as much as the Persian. He looks a bit like my twins. If anything happends Sic has to get Arch and the boys out of here. Only his slave seemed to have no intention of moving. He glared at Marchois as though at a personal enemy. Cimon had donned a cool air of indifference, though he was still clearly shaken. Without thinking he ruffled the boy's hair, but instead of being affronted the youth grinned at him, as if to put on a brave show. Cimon and Sic stood, one for formality the other defensively, and the gaurds were sent out on all sides. The tension eased, if not by much. "Now then, Sir Persian, what brings you to our fair city?" The man gave an easy smile. [cimon's rival kicks up rumors about him cajoling with persians, and cimon is forced to agree to thems terms in order to get what thems wants: support for the navy] "I have been sent out to see the mood of this city." "Looking for friends are you?" Thems shrugged. "You won't find many here. Most of the Pistratid are out of the city--almost all in fact. Though I supose there are others." He only had a suspcion of who had turned that shield, but Hippias and his ilk no longer had a grip on the city. It was the Alcamaedae he worried about now. "The Great King is most wrought with you," Marchois said sypathetically. "Sardis burned. His men at Marathon killed." "His father's men," Thems corrected but the Persian ignored him. "I myself owe the Great King a debt. When my father abandoned me to the somebody he offered me land, a wife and a fortune. All I had to do was convince my people to submit. It has been the best of decisisons." "The best decision?" Cimon seethed. His composure was unraveling now. "Oh yes. The Persians can help keep the Scythians away from my lands. They're terrifying in battle, their accuracy with a bow most terrible, as you no doubt know." The man had a way of placing an insault in the most sincere of compliments. That's a talent. Cimon bristled, but Xanthippus was furious. "You dare come strolling in here knowing you'll never fight your way out and then say such outragous things!" "I did not come to fight, but merely to make an offer." "An offer?" "Oh yes. The Great King is gathering his army as we speak. But in truth the men see little reason to invade such a poor land. It is the king's pride you see." "You're Persian and you speak thus?" "I am not Persian, but I speak thus, yes."
"Barbarians have nothing trustworthy or true." Themistocles frowned, looking over the letter for more, but there was nothing. "The youth was puzzled. "A joke?" "Spartans don't make jokes. Oh sure. Men say they love a good quip, but they don't mean to be funny."
Bulis read the note for them to hear. "There is nowhere so much gold or a country so outstanding in beauty and merit that we should be willing to take it as a reward for going over to the Medes and so enslaving Greece. In fact there are many important things stopping us from doing that even if we wanted to. And then again there is Greekeness, being of the same blood and language, and having shared shrines and rituals and goods and similar customs which it would not be right for the Athenians to betray." He lowered the paper. "They could have just wrote 'we know,' Cleombrotus muttered. The king's look was hard as he scrutanized the letter."You are sure of this?" Bulis nodded. "Attic dialect is impossible to understand spoken, but easy enough to decipher on paper." The king set aside the letter and looked around the room. "Well?" "They got the message," Diences said with a lazy smile. "But this is not an official letter, so one man against a mob isn't promising." "This one man is said to be a good speaker, which counts for something in Attica," Bulis told them. "Yet we get no signs of a positive outcome." "We have a wrong to right."
Leotychidas decides to send Jason or Menes to Aegina to check for Dems. He still worries about Helot revolt, which Paus will use to take said helots into battle in exchange for their freedom. Priest encourages Leotychidas to make sacrifice to right wrong, perhaps Persia will not attack. Not because he's scared but one less thing to deal with? Leotychidas agrees and calls attention of issue before Assembly.
They would have to make their way carefully; the straits of Salamis were narrow and windy, and hidden shaols and what not were waiting to catch the ship up. Thems could here the clicking language of dolphins even through everything and Thems smiled. That was a good sign. Stories claimed if a man was shipwrecked the dolphins would push him to shore. As they rowed they passed a small fishing vessel making its way from Salamis, the startled fishermen gawking at the trireme. Until the wake caught them and then they toppled over each other. He hoped the dolphins were still nearby.
The man guaffed. "Salamis? Look around you, my good man. You're not on Salamis." Themistocles frowned around the clouded mist. It had hid the seashore but now was breaking up a bit, swirling away with the wind and revealing a rocky bank further inland and patches of stubborn seagrass. Salamis was a sleepy little island full of fisherfolk and modest villages. This was a crowded seaside villa, the evidence of an industrious city-state. Above on pine clad hills were colorful buildings lined up like a row of crooked square teeth in too small a mouth, shouldering agianst each other as though each wanted to be the first to dive into the sea. Dive into the sea. Themistocles knew with a sinking feeling the man had spoken the truth. When he turned back the man favored him with a cruel smile. "Welcome to Aegina, my Athenian friends. You're all under arrest."
Archippe hurried through the dusty streets, heedless of the burning noonday sun or the angry scowls from people she was knocked out of her way. In truth Archippe had no idea where she was going. She had been circiling the city for hours, anxious and fearful for news on Themistocles. The Assembly was meeting now, deciding how to proceed against Aegina. As a woman she had no access to Ares Hill, no way of knowing what was going on. She had paced the house until her mother threatened to tie her down with carted wool. So Arch paced the streets instead.
I'm going to strangle that man the moment he walks in the door. I bet he's arranging a marriage with an Aegian princess in exchange for his freedom, she seethed. Only that was nonsense. He had enough to negotiate as it was, and anyway there was no royalty on Aegina. Only an ogliarchy. They can't kill him. We still have Crius and the hostages. She had always felt sorry for them, but now she couldn't be more greatful they were here. Still, the Alcaemenid might be more than happy to leave Themistocles on Aegina. Or worse, declare war. If they went to war, the Persians might just sweep in and take Athens while the men were away. It was enough to make her feel sick with fear.
If Aristides were here, he would know what to do. He could convince the Assembly to quit stalling. She was not sure where the thought came from. Aristides had no reason to love Themistocles, not the man who threw him out of the city. But Aristides had been the voice of reason with the Alcameanae, who were wolves among the sheep. Or so Thems always claimed.
She turned a corner and only then heard the hooting. Before she could locate its source the horses were almost right on top of her. was nearly run down by [nikandros' son]'s holligans, racing through the agora yet again. Arch yelped as she someone caught her by the arm and pulled her out of the way. "My lady are you hurt?" Revolted Archippe leaped back angrily. The face hidden deep in the cawl was still just visible enough to make out those piercing dark eyes and handsome features. "Sir Aristides!" He hushed her. "Do not say my name." He frowned at her servants, then quickly peered around the shadows. Finally he gestured. Come with me." Unthinking she followed him, her alarmed slaves catching her up in confusion. She glared at Xenos when he protested he should find Sic. Sic will tell Thems if he doesn't kill Aristides first. They walked along the narrow ally, under cool shadows that hid them from the blazing summer sun, around and over pottery shards that once held wine and apparently a lost sandal, and past painted walls that were badly peeling, until they came out in a small grove of pine on the northwest side of the marketplace. Along the way Arch tried to straighten her skirts and hair, knowing she looked frightful. Ever since Thems had been captured she had barely paid attention to her toilette, her concern on getting her husband back and keeping her family together. You're a fool. He's married and you're too tired to think straight. But she couldn't help herself. As he looked around for witnesses she could no longer hold her tounge, though she managed a near whisper. "What are you doing here? It's dangerous for you to be in the city!" "I know, daughter of somebody. But I could not stay away." Even tired he was so handsome, his glossy black hair combed and shining like a Spartan, his beard shaved to help hide his identity. He was dressed in rough wools of dark green and brown, part of his chignon over his head to hide from men as well as the heat of the sun. He looked so much younger, like a young god. He'll help me. He will. His silver voice and golden words could sway the citizens of Athens it was said. Gold and silver could not save him from my husband's conviction to ostrasize him, a voice inside her head warned, but she shoved it aside. He was so gallant and his love for his city-state was so admirable. Themistcoles always said the content of a man could be known by the love he had for his city-state. "You love Athens that much?" "The city? I do, but truth be told I could not stand to be away from my wife. I love her more than my own life. And my children. They are the most precious thing I have. I could not stand to be parted from them, thus Xanthippus and I--" he stopped. "Alas, I have said too much." "I won't tell anyone, I swear," ARchippe said quickly. Her heart hurt. He came to see his family. Just his family. No one else. She could hear Themistocles laughing at her. She was sure he would if he knew. Aristiedes frowned. "Forgive me. I did not mean to imply you would talk. You are quite intelligent, I am sure." She realized she was glaring at him and made herself smile. "Sir Aristides, you must know about Themistocles. [Aristides writes a letter allowing Thems to be 'put on trial' Thems will know that when he gets to the asembly room in Aegina. He'll have to thank Aristides for that and convince both Xan and Aristides to come back.] He's been captured by the Athenians." "I cannot go before the Assembly," Aristides said, stricken. "I am not of this city for a few more years yet. I should not even be here, but I cannot stand the thought of being without my family for so long, and so I snuck in." "As a Xenos, you could convince the Assembly of what is right. Of what is...is just!" When he shook his head she pressed on stubbornly. "There's no law against a man being a guest-friend. I know. Themistocles told me all the laws. He likes to practice speeches and my father taught me a lot and I know it's legal. They CAN"T prosocute you." She knew she was rambling now, but she couldn't stop. "Please. I don't care what Athens says about me or Themistocles. He's a good man and my children won't understand what's happening." The twins' plaintive questions made tears spring in her eyes. "Please. I have to do SOMETHING." I'll march into the Assembly myself. How she's get past the archers she had no idea though. The man sighed. "Attica cannot afford bloodshed. Not now. Persia is coming. I came to warn some close friends of it, and now it seems I must tell all. If Aegina and Athens go to war the Persian will merely sweep in and defeat them both. A hostage exchange might be possible, yes." "But the Acamaenae--" "will listen to me girl. Even THEY must listen to reason, now." "Good!" a voice boomed. Arch nearly jumped a stade in the air. "Xanthippus, you should have announced yourself," Aristiedes scolded. "And YOU should not be letting anyone know of our presence here, especially the wife of our greatest enemy." "Archippe glared. Xanthippus was known to have a short temper, and had was known to act first and ask questions later. Or so Thems said. "You're in the city together?" "Not exactly," Aristides told her. I arrived a few days ago, and since my wife and his are close friends she let it slip her husband is also in the city. Perhaps this is an omen." "I know you don't like my husband, but it's not his fault six thousand men voted you out of the city-state and not him." She could have bit her tounge off--that was the same situation as with Aristides, but she stubbornly plowed on. "You're both influential men. Can't you do something?" "Why should we? We both oppossed the man's fool idea to place the safety of the city-state into the hands of hoodlums and slaves," Xanthippus said. "He's corrupting the system. My own son questioned me just this morning on why it would be so bad for the poor to be a part of our new democracy. I've never heard anything so outragous in my life!" He turned to look behind him. In the shade of a distant pine a boy of no more than fifteen with dark curly hair was studying his sandals, unable to meet his father's stern look. Great. Everyone in Athens will know Aristides is here. She didn't care a fig for Xanthippus, but she'd defend Aristides from harm, ugly wife or no. Aristides sighed, and for a moment Arch feared he could read her mind the way Thems could. But he only shook his head and said,"Perhaps we were wrong, Xanthippus. Perhaps it is time to conceed that the navy is our only hope." "Are you mad? You're going to agree with that Thracian welp?" "My husband's mother was from Caria and of Ionian blood, same as yours!" Arch snapped defensively." Xan shrugged. "I hear Halicarnnasians speak Doric, not Ionic. Halicarnassus for one thing speaks some twisted dialect of Sparta's language." "We're wasting time. Who knows what the Aegians are doing right now!" "I understand your anxious, my lady," Aristides said soothingly. "But I am not sure how we can help." "You could go before the Assembly. Your words are always so golden and persuasive and they'll listen to you. I know they will. You're Ariston The Just." "Listen to her," Xanthippus snorted. "She thinks you're some sort of god to win the people with your mighty powers. I swear you have the strangest hold over women." Arch blushed angrily. She wanted to black the man's eye. "I won't help!" Xanthippus said stubbornly. "You WILL help, or I'll run to Cimon and tell him you're here!" "He has no love for you, and I don't either. I'll swear up and down that not only did I run into you but you tried to force yourself on me." She gestured to her dress, and saw his face change from anger to alarm. "So you will help me, Xanthippus. Or all thirty Demes in Attica will know you're here if I have to climb to the top of the Acropolis and scream it." The man's jaw dropped. Even Aristides looked shocked. "My lady," the younger statesment stuttered, "you...you are tired and frightened, I know. Yet you mustn't say such things." Archippe whirled on him. "My husband is right. You are NOT just! You're a coward! The whole city is going to burn by Persian fire and nobody cares! I hate you! I hate all of you!" She was shouting now, crying now, but she didn't care. "Why won't you go to the Aseembly and say something."
"We cannot help your husband directly," Aristides said slowly, "however it may be possible to call on some former guest-friends to help." "Who?" Arch asked anxiously. "The Spartans." Thems will go through the roof tiles! If there was any city-state that he hated more than even Aegina, it was Sparta. "I once was a guest-friend of King Ariston. A good man. Honest and just, as a king should be." He sighed. "I wish his son were still in power, but the Mad King drove him off some years ago. In any case, his cousin King Leotychias once made overtures about the hostages we hold here from Aegina. Perhaps I can write him and he'll help." "How long do you think that will take?" "It depends on the messenger-" "Alexandros!" Arch blurted. "He's the fasted runner in all of Attica! He's the cousin of [runner of Marathon]. He'll get there in a day or two I know he will." "It's not that easy, girl!" Xanthippus snapped. "He could have Hermes' winged sandals and arrive there in a flash but it could still take days, if not weeks." "But why?" "Because of the Ephors," Arisites told her. "Because Sparta never hurries. They are slow and deliberate, and will sense no urgency in this. It is not their problem, and if Aegina and Athens go to war it will free Sparta of outside interfearence. I know very little of King Leonidas, save that he is supposed to be a hard man and focused on righting all of Cleomenes' wrongs. Perhaps he will right the wrong of Cleomenes interfearing in our affairs." "He's the brother of Cleomenes," Xanthiuppus growled. "You'll get no help from that quarter." "We must try," Aristides said. "Persia is coming. We must gather our resources and form an alliance, or not one of us will know freedom."
Archippe followed the two men into the agora, their hoods up and among her entoruage so it looked like they were merely slaves escorting their lady about the city and had to pass through the marketplace in order to get to their destination. She prayed anyone glancing her way would mistake them for Xenos and Sic. Where was Sicinnus anyway? He had stayed by her side night and day as if she were a queen in need of a bodygaurd, as if somehow he thought she might try to swim to Aegina and save Thems herself. Yet this morning he had been at dissapeared, and last night he had gone out, only explaining that he had seen something suspicious the day before (marchois). She hadn't asked--she was too busy fretting, but now she was both glad and upset he wasn't there. Xenos was at home, nervously going about his chores but all the slaves looked to her for answers. As if I had any. And so she had taken them out, though now she had to send Xenos off to look for Sic. The agora was full, but they found who they were looking for. It wasn't hard; only one man with long hair and a scarlet cloak that had seen better days existed in Athens. At the moment he looked grumpier than ever, and no wonder: a chariot salesman was hounding him. "I have a sturdy cart with everything you need," the man was saying. "Four-spoked two-wheeler, pole, yoke and harness included, a removable leather seat, beatifully decorated rails and Corinthian style box with bronze folaiage design, with room for four." The Spartan scowled. "I have two feet and a good horse." The salesman stepped back but amazingly still persisted. Before he could speak Aristides stepped foward. "A moment of your time, my Spartan friend," he said in a low voice. The Spartan turned his ferocious scowl on him, and opened his mouth as if for a serious tounge trashing before he peered closer and nodded. He frowned at Arch though he squirmed under the scrutiny. It wasn't a leer, but rather a dissaproving look that made her feel unwanted. Perhaps they had no need of her now, but she refused to leave. Dorians weren't the only ones who could be stubborn.
"In my country men obey the laws," he scolded. If his harsh words affected Aristides, he showed no sign of it, but Xanthippus scowled back at him. "We were thrown out unjustly. You should know something of that." The Spartan hurumphed. "What is it you want then?" "We have need of your connections to Sparta," Aristides explained. "As you no doubt know, Themistocles of Deme was captured by the Athenians and is being held hostage. Perhaps Sparta can help persuade the Aeginians to let them go." "Why should Sparta care?" "What do you mean why!" Archippe cried. "Their hostages." The Spartan looked utterly amazed that she had spoken; Xanthippus shot her a nasty look. Aren't women freer in Sparta? What had Melissa said about that? " "You asked me why, and it is because of Persia. The country is assembling for a massive invasion." "I know." Now Xanthippus looked amazed. "You KNOW?" "I just said I did!" the Spartan snapped. "How?" Xanthippus demanded angrily. The Spartan looked as if that were the rudest question he was ever asked. Clearly he did not like having to explain himself to men he no doubt thought inferior. "Our king Leonidas suspects as much." "And how do you know." Xanthippus demanded again. He was as bad as Thems said, she realized. He really didn't know when to keep quiet. "My Listner wrote as much and Bulis doesn't lie!" the Spartan growled. The two men stood glaring at each other. Archippe shuddered. It seemed everyone knew about Persia and did nothing about it. Aristides stepped in smoothly before the two came to blows. "We did not come here to fight, or to beg. Merely to be reasonable. If Aegina mediazes again, it will give the Persians a jumping off point to invade both Attica and Laconia, and even Corinth. These three areas are invaluable to our freedom, however we express it." "The eclipse," the Spartan muttered. He seemed to be thinking, however slow and dull-witted Thems claimed the Spartans were, they weren't really stupid. "And the code...I will let them know. I doubt Crius and his ilk are any threat now anyway, and whatever makes that bastard Leotychidas squirm..." he shook himself. "I talk too much! I'm as bad as any of you." He frowned at Arc as though seeing her for the first time. "Are all your women part of your politics? Who in Hades' Domain is she?" Archippe drew herself up and wrapped her swag around her tightly. She was short, but he was not much taller and that put them on almost even footing. "I am the daughter of somebody, wife of Themistocles and chair of--" "shut your mouth woman. I didn't ask for your life story." Stunned Arch gaped at him. "Have a care, Spartan," Aristides said heatedly. "She is gently bred, the daughter of an important man of Athens and wife of a Marathon man and current general. " Archippe felt her heart take flight. He was defending her, her handsome demigod. She stepped closer to Aristides and gave the Sperthius a challenging look that did not phase the Spartan in the least. "You're women are weak," the xenos snapped. "Her duty should be to wait, not to interfear." "It was her wise council that brought us here now," Aristides said patiently. "And now Captain, if you would write a letter to your general and king, perhaps we can save Hellas before it is too late."
"My liege, I have been sent a coded message from Sperthius. Something is amiss in Athens that may affect Sparta." He presented the letter formally, the king taking it with a a nod before reading the code. When he was finished he handed it over to his twin to read aloud. 'Listen well. General of Athens captured by Aegina. Persia moving. Aegina mediazing. War for both. No allies against Persia unless we interfear. Asked help by The Just Athenian and Xanthippus. Request help." Cleombrotus through down Sperthius' letter, exasperated. "Who are these two Athenian swindlers I've never heard of!?" "I've heard of Aristides, and Cimon is the son of the general who led the battle at Marathon," Bulis said slowly. " More than that, if Aegina hates Athens still, they may mediaze for sure this time around. We have our warning. Even the Ephors cannot fail to see that." A silence followed, and all eyes went to the king, who frowned past them all, clearly weighing his options. Finally he slowly stood up. "Send an assembly to Aegina." "An assembly?" Cleombrotus sounded personally affronted. The king's look was sharp. "An Assembly. As soon as Eurabayetes is ready to sail." "When should I return?" "You're not."
Themistocles stared around the hall, made of gray-veined marble and limestone, a six colum wide and seven columed bulding with enough open space for a hundred men or so. There were only half that number now, but all fourty nine were hostirle towards him. Themistocles made sure to note who was curious and who was angry. None smiled or even looked sympathetic. He knew he looked terrible and smelled worse, and the fetters did not help either.
Aegina was a mountainous volcanic rock that jutted out of the Saronic Gulf, its inhabitants of Doric ancestory and therefore a quarelsome and stubborn people, which made them nearly as irritating as their land-lubbing kin in Laconia. The city-state was an ogliarchy reigned by maritime traders, their coin stamped with the image of a turtle. The Aegians were said to love their silver the way Lydians loved their gold. Themistocles wondered how much of Athens' silver it was going to cost to win his freedom. I need that money for my ships! His ships. He turned to look back east. Perhaps they would mount a rescue, or use this as a reason to formally invade. The Assembly would have no problems with that. The island was not exactly a haven for for a fleet, but if drawn out into the ocean Athens' sturdy ships and superior numbers would render Aegina's small swift fleet vulnerable to attack from the wind and waves. And ship rams. If only the Alcamaedae were smart enough to see the opportunity in this. He sighed. But they were stupid, and would only smirk he was out of their hair. The common men will see the insult. He had reminded them enough of Marathon and their place in glory. But who will lead the charge? No. He couldn't count on the Assembly. Too much like sheep, and the Alcamaenae too much like wolves. He still suspected their trechery. He would have to free himself and the ships. And the crew, of course. He glared at the Captain's back. The massive bruise on his shin a result from his boot.
At first the men had protested--some had even been dumb enough to reist--but the soldiers, or maybe sailors was a better word--managed to chain them up quickly and start the long march towards the magistrate. The man hadn't believed he was a general, though Themistocles supposed most men in high positions of government didn't volentarily row ships or socialize with their social inferiors. [sorry general we thought you were one of them. I am, he said placidly.] It was interesting to note that the rowers were no better socially than in Attica; perhaps he could use that to his advantage.
There were taken in chains up the steep mountain top, a temple looming majestically atop the acropolis. As they slowly wound their way uphill, Themistocles tried to remember everything he knew about Aegina. Knowledge was the key to survival. Instead of being paraded on the main roads they took smaller paths that were full of dry brush and dusty air that even the sea breeze did little too diminish. As the storm broke up the Aegean bled through the mist like spilled [Egyptian/Phonecian?] ink, and inland rows upon rows of colorful well-kept houses appeared, most four colums across (bigger houses need more colums?). Evidence of brisk ocean trade, and if not so wealthy as Corinth still well-to-do. What surprised Themistocles in spite of himself was the sudden appearence of a palace or two in the distance--something not seen in Attica since the Pistratid lands were divided up. The few people about-farmers with creeking wagons pulled by sleepy mules or merchants on horseback with the occasional slave weaving around them--gave them puzzled looks and hailed the gaurds and said only "Athenians." It was all they needed to say--the quizzical frowns turned into nasty grins. That doesn't bode well, Thems thought. They followed the winding roads, their captors saying little though they smirked openly at their windfall. And why not? For ten years Athens had held their most prominant civilians as hostages, a strange but welcome gift from their former enemies at Sparta. Now the tables had turned, and Themistocles knew that there would be no easy way out of this. He had to think fast. Those hostages back in Athens were the only leverage he had against this. They won't kill us. They know they can't. Their men will die if we do. But probability was not certainty.
The men looked at him, their faces a mixture of accusation and fear. "Let me do the talking," he told them over a meal of crusty bread and brackish water. "I have practice turning a room full of enemies into alies." It was true. He had escaped ostracism twice, convinced men to pay for warships instead of dividing funds among themselves, and swindled one of the most prominent men of Athens out of his only daughter. Though the latter might have been more a loss than a gain. "Now lisen. I may have to slither and grovel like a worm, but I'll get us out of this alive, I promise." They looked as if they almost believed him.
"Themistocles of Athens, you are hearby charged with intention to spy and land without permission upon our city-state. The penalty for Athenians is death."Little good we'll be dead," Themistocles said as casually as he could. "You'll have to build gallows or build a pit to throw us in or pour wine down our throats until he die. Although I wouldn't mind the latter, you'd have to import wine from Attican vineyards, and your people may not like that." A few chuckles sounded. A good start. "It costs nothing to throw you into the ocean," one pointed little man snapped. "I wonder," Themistocles said coldly. "How much is a man's life worth I wonder? How much is ten?" The sharp one snorted. "Ten against your dozens seems a fair bargain to me. And Crius and his ilk were a nuisance at any rate. None are sad to see them go." "I"m not that popular myself, but killing a Marathon man let alone any citizens of Athens will incite wrath in our Assembly. You may have noticed we arrived on a ship. There's plenty more where THAT came from. So whatever you do to us will be paid back ten fold to your own." "Is it war you want, Themistocles of Athens? Just say the word, and Attica will be drenched in blood. We're not afraid of you and your ships." "The waters here are narrow and trecherous, you could bring 1000 ships here and the storms would crash them and a well trained navy could easily manuver you into position and ram them. "Though I am a general, Sir, I live in a democracy and cannot speak for the whole of my citizens. That is how we do things in Athens. In any case, I'd say not war but peace is best between us. There is a much bigger threat coming this way." The man frowned. "Persia?" "Indeed. A hostage exhcange and a pledge of peace will make all the difference." I don't like this," the chubby youth murmmured. "Just a few weeks ago that volcano (Meghana) was smoking and a series of tremmers. Then the eclipse. I fear the gods are trying to tell us something." "That's there's trouble coming, no doubt." The sharp little man pointed at Themistocles. "And if we align ourselves with this man and his Athenian friends we're sure to be dragged into it. I say we remain out of the drama." "You can see this ugly rock from Pireus," Themistocles pointed out. "And if the Mede decides to vacation in our city, they can see it too." The men exchanged uncertain looks. "So be it. We'll send a messenger to Athens and have a hostage exchange arrranged at once." Themistocles smiled. Perhaps the storm was no accident. Perhaps the gods were with him afterall. Suddenly a comotion outside could be heard. For a moment Themistocles feared the ship's crew had tried to break free and were trying to break into the hall. When the huge marble doors were pulled inward however it was not his men but something far worse: the Spartans.
The leader was an ape of a man, stout, muscled like a bull and offensively ugly. He was dressed in full armor, as though he meant to lead his men into a full-phalanx charge. Their scarlet cloaks and long hair were identical in nearly every way, and will the man wore no helmet the others did, as though they expected battle to break out any minute. "Who are you?" the beak-nosed man demanded. "Eurybates, Navarch of Sparta." The man's bronze armor was turning due to the salty air of the sea. Clearly he was a Navarch in name only. He looked like he had never cracked a smile in his life. He certainly didn't do so now. "What do you want?" "The Spartan king Leonidas sends word to let the Athenians go." The room exploded in outrage. The leaders openly cursed or guaffed. "You Spartans are as stupid as you are ugly. Ten years ago your crazed king Cleomeones came here demanding hostages and we were forced to hand them over to Athens. Now that we have Athenian hostages you want us to let them go. You Spartans had best make up your mind." The Spartan men shifted hands to swords. "Don't threaten us with those nail files you brutes," the beak-man screeched. This is no good. Both sides were Doric stubborn and neither would budge. If I don't say something now that Spartan will draw his sword. Spartans never made idle threats with their weapons, and the Navarch's hand seemed to twitch with a strained effort. "We have hostages. They have hostages. Why argue? Why not a hostage exchange?" he asked. "You be quiet, Themistocles of Athens." The Navach's glare slid over to him. "You're Themistocles?" His tone was dubious. "I am, Navarch. I appreciate your king's request. I owe him a great deal, although I'm afraid you've come all this way for nothing. The Aeginians and I have come to a reasonable agreement." The man studied him suspiciously. ""They will let us go provided we return Cruis and the others to Aegina." "The hostages will be let go because a Spartan king says so," the man retorded angrily. "
Leotychidas stared at nothing. In truth he could insist on them releasing the hostages--that would do much to repair his damaged reputation. Those damn Athenians! He still had not fogiven them their insult. It would silence his critics at home as well and might earn him a measure of respect from the Lion's Den, though he doubted it. He was a Eurypontid, meant to be clever at negotiation, but somehow he lacked his uncle's ability to strtegize or his cousin's ability to placate. Cleomeones was dead ten years now yet people still thought him a lapdog to the Agiad. Yet there was still the matter of Persia. If we involve ourselves in a fight, we could be overtaken by rebels. It was especially restless out there if even Dieneces couldn't get a handle on things. Where is Dems? He heard the boots stomping towards him. Only one person stalked around Sparta in a huff for no reason. "Jason." "You Highness." The youth inclined his head. He had grown accustomed to the name, and seemed to answer to it more readily than his true name, and so Leotychidas continued to call him by his hall name; now everyone did so. "A summons from the Lion's Den." Leotychidas grunted. He had ignored the summons twice already but now was required to appear before the council on the third one. It was a small measure of revenge, a way to salvage his pride. If it bothered Leonidas, the man made no show of it. He's a lump of ice, not a man. He had displayed so once again with his request to send an assembly to Aegina, cold and disspasionate yet oddly persuasive. The Gyrosia was divided and had been for a long time, an even mix of man who had supported his cousin and those that supported Cleomenes. The Agiad king commanded their respect though, and his rare requests were always granted.
"We wish to go with you." Marchois arched an eyebrow at them. "To Persia?" "To the king," Bulis told him. "None save noble blood can just appear before the king," the man explained patiently. "But perhaps I can send along vessels of earth and water--" "It is not a submission," Sperthius snapped. "We wish to amend a terrible mistake," Bulis added with a look meant to silence the older Spartan. His Inspirer had once been known to be outspoken by rocks he was so quiet, but lately the man had been unable to harness his tounge. Clearly Athens was to blame. "Ten years ago our king Cleomenes ordered the deaths of two Persian heralds. We wish to erase that debt." "No amount of money or words can atone for that," Marchois warned them. "But blood might," Bulis said. "We two are Heraclids, men of high birth and prestige, willing to die so that Sparta may live," Sperthius declared. Marchois frowned thoughtfully. "Not the first time I've heard similar words from an exile such as yourself [Dems]. Very well. It is a great risk, but no man ever won a battle without some risk, or so I have been told." He smiled, reminding them of Themsitocles' earlier words. "I will write to Hydranes in somewhere and tell him of your arrival. He can pass word on to Artiphranes who is brother to the king and satrap of Lydia. I cannot gaurentee you will the king personally, but perhaps your message will reach him. Now gather your things quickly. We sail on the morning tide."
"I tried inviting the Spartan but when I made a joke about a Spartan cup of wine he growled at me and stalked off." "They're very sensative about such things," Aristides said diplomatically. Xanthippus was less kind. "They're hypocrites. I hear they're king was crazy because he drank so much." "They consider wine not well-watered to be unseemly. I stayed just outside of Sparta, and though they didn't say so, they clearly disaprove of our way of life."
"I swear Themistocles you're worse than your wife!" Xanthippus snarled. Worse than my wife? When Aristides gave his college a withering look he knew something was afoot. "What does Arch have to do with anything?" "In truth General it was her idea for us to help you," Aristieds said slowly. "I had the misfortune of being seen by a guard and went to hide in the ally, though that didn't help my cause. Nikandros' son and his band nearly ran her over. I pulled her out of the way, and she recognized me." "How fortunate." Try as he did he couldn't stop sarcasm from entering his voice. His wife had been no doubt elated to run into her imaginary sweetheart. "Nikandros thinks because he married my wife's cousin he's Acamaedae but I assure you the whole family is made up of a bunch of idiots." Xanthippus waved his hand dissmisivly. "The only one able to even afford a worse is that impetious boy of his. The rest he bought for his friends." "No worries there," Themistocles told them. "That idiot group is going to make a bad mistake, and Cimon will be more than happy to catch him." The youth boiled to get his hands on his rival, but could not do so until an actual crime was comitted. Arch was right though: there needed to be a formal law against all that riding about before someone got seriously hurt. "In any case, I didn't ask you hear to talk about hoodlums and my wife's inability to stay out of trouble, I need you to help me pursuade the Assembly-" just then the backgate swung open and crashed against the stones. All were up from their couches at once. Siccinnus stalked towards him, sword unsheathed as though enemies were in front or behind him. "Good gods he's going to kill us!" Xanthippus cried, clawing for a sword he didn't have. Aristides at least knew better. "What is it, slave? What is amiss?" Sic ignored him. "Master. There is a high-ranking Persian in the city." The men gasped. "What? Where?" Xanthippus' head swirved. "He is heading in this direction. Of that I am sure." "Gods!" Xanthippus swore. "Clam down rock-head he's not going to start a fight in the middle of the city," Thems said even as his stomach churned. A Persian inside the city. A spy? "Sic how did you know?" The slave frowned around him. Ah. The trust issue. "It's OK Sic, they helped me and now I owe them the truth." Or some part of it. "Now tell me what happened." "A few days ago I was told there were two strange men in the city." He frowned at the ostragized Athenians. "But then I caught sight of a man near the Athenian fire temple he was...his words were different from other prayers. I followed him to his master's place in Phaleum and saw his master's dress." "That's why you dissapeared." Sic nodded. "I did not wish to alarm the mistress." "Good thinking." The news would only kindle her paranoia about that supposed prophecy. "We'll have to accomodate our guest, won't we? Xenos!" The boy approached him ashen-faced. "Don't be scared everything will be fine. Just wake up Cook and then mix another bowel of wine. Just tell Daisy some late-night gate crashers are coming and to get another wheel (?) or cheese and see if there's any lamb or squid left. Go on." The boy nodded, mute as a post as he ran into the kitchen as if an army of Medes were right behind him. The Spartan [is there?] frowned thoughtfully at Sic. "I think you would be a good match for Cerb," he murmmered. Whatever that meant. He heard voices then, and expected to see a fish-scaled warrior stroll through the door, but instead it was Cimon. He nearly groaned. No. Not now. He seemed to have made an enemy of time itself. "Strange to see your gate open in the middle of the night," the youth said in clipped, precise tones. His golden badge of office glittered proudly against his purple cloak, something most men wouldn't wear in such atrocious heat. The youth barely seemed to sweat."Your Highness what brings you here?" Themistocles tried not to seemed rush. He wanted to drop kick the boy over the wall! "Sorry father," a youth said breathlessly behind him. "Pericles, you moron! What do you think you're doing?" "You dissapeared for so long I was sure they had caught you. I only wanted to..." the boy trailed off. "He came in to my office demanding--demanding! to see his father. I told him I had no idea what he was talking about but was sure Xanthippus was in the city and illegally! The boy thought you were in some sort of trouble, and we've been looking for you ever since, for his sake I kept it quiet until I could confirm your presence. Now that I have I must arrest you all." "Don't be stupid!" Thems and Xanthippus said at the same time. "You can't!" Pericles added, horrified. "I have my duty," Cimon said cooly. Considering Xanthippus was the one who wanted to execute his father, this must have been a great moment of triiumph. Behind him were a guard of Scythian archers, almost lazily leaning against the door. The Spartans and Sic looked ready to form a phalanx. The archers seemed ready to go, and the Persians were edgy for sure. Only Marchois and Aristides seemed calm, though Marchois arched an eyebrow at Sic, who had thrown himself in front of Thems, who in turn was utterly baffled. There's going to be a war in my courtyard! He could practically feel the stones beneath his feet humming with battle. "Could we all just sit down and have a cup of wine?" Thems said as lightly as he dared. He felt like sicking up. Everything that could go wrong seemed to be going wrong all at once. "If you sit two or three to a couch I'm sure we can all have a nice time." Nobody moved. Then Marchois glided over to a couch and sat down, all smiles and nods. The Spartans sat down backs straight on one, clearly not willing to share and expecting a fight, for they were both even more stone-faced and had thrown back their cloask, hands on sword hilts. No empty threat there. Xan and Ari sat down on another. Pericles sat by Thems, terrified of his father as much as the Persian. He looks a bit like my twins. If anything happends Sic has to get Arch and the boys out of here. Only his slave seemed to have no intention of moving. He glared at Marchois as though at a personal enemy. Cimon had donned a cool air of indifference, though he was still clearly shaken. Without thinking he ruffled the boy's hair, but instead of being affronted the youth grinned at him, as if to put on a brave show. Cimon and Sic stood, one for formality the other defensively, and the gaurds were sent out on all sides. The tension eased, if not by much. "Now then, Sir Persian, what brings you to our fair city?" The man gave an easy smile. [cimon's rival kicks up rumors about him cajoling with persians, and cimon is forced to agree to thems terms in order to get what thems wants: support for the navy] "I have been sent out to see the mood of this city." "Looking for friends are you?" Thems shrugged. "You won't find many here. Most of the Pistratid are out of the city--almost all in fact. Though I supose there are others." He only had a suspcion of who had turned that shield, but Hippias and his ilk no longer had a grip on the city. It was the Alcamaedae he worried about now. "The Great King is most wrought with you," Marchois said sypathetically. "Sardis burned. His men at Marathon killed." "His father's men," Thems corrected but the Persian ignored him. "I myself owe the Great King a debt. When my father abandoned me to the somebody he offered me land, a wife and a fortune. All I had to do was convince my people to submit. It has been the best of decisisons." "The best decision?" Cimon seethed. His composure was unraveling now. "Oh yes. The Persians can help keep the Scythians away from my lands. They're terrifying in battle, their accuracy with a bow most terrible, as you no doubt know." The man had a way of placing an insault in the most sincere of compliments. That's a talent. Cimon bristled, but Xanthippus was furious. "You dare come strolling in here knowing you'll never fight your way out and then say such outragous things!" "I did not come to fight, but merely to make an offer." "An offer?" "Oh yes. The Great King is gathering his army as we speak. But in truth the men see little reason to invade such a poor land. It is the king's pride you see." "You're Persian and you speak thus?" "I am not Persian, but I speak thus, yes."
"Barbarians have nothing trustworthy or true." Themistocles frowned, looking over the letter for more, but there was nothing. "The youth was puzzled. "A joke?" "Spartans don't make jokes. Oh sure. Men say they love a good quip, but they don't mean to be funny."
Bulis read the note for them to hear. "There is nowhere so much gold or a country so outstanding in beauty and merit that we should be willing to take it as a reward for going over to the Medes and so enslaving Greece. In fact there are many important things stopping us from doing that even if we wanted to. And then again there is Greekeness, being of the same blood and language, and having shared shrines and rituals and goods and similar customs which it would not be right for the Athenians to betray." He lowered the paper. "They could have just wrote 'we know,' Cleombrotus muttered. The king's look was hard as he scrutanized the letter."You are sure of this?" Bulis nodded. "Attic dialect is impossible to understand spoken, but easy enough to decipher on paper." The king set aside the letter and looked around the room. "Well?" "They got the message," Diences said with a lazy smile. "But this is not an official letter, so one man against a mob isn't promising." "This one man is said to be a good speaker, which counts for something in Attica," Bulis told them. "Yet we get no signs of a positive outcome." "We have a wrong to right."
Leotychidas decides to send Jason or Menes to Aegina to check for Dems. He still worries about Helot revolt, which Paus will use to take said helots into battle in exchange for their freedom. Priest encourages Leotychidas to make sacrifice to right wrong, perhaps Persia will not attack. Not because he's scared but one less thing to deal with? Leotychidas agrees and calls attention of issue before Assembly.
Tyrion merchants, their fingers stained purple from breaking open the small shells of Murex, told of a fantastic bridge of boats and a canal that ran through Macedonia.
Glass manufacturing, Sidon's most important enterprise in the Phoenician era, was conducted on a vast scale, and the production of purple dye was almost as important. The small shell of the Murex trunculus was broken in order to extract the pigment that was so rare it became the mark of royalty.
Thems snorted. "I would rather be thrown in the barathrum (criminal pit) than do that."
I hope that I never hold an office where I could not benefit my friends more than strangers who do me no pleasure," said Themistocles. Aristides was only interested in what was good for Athens, not in increasing his own wealth or prestige. He therefore would admit when he had made a mistake, even though it made him look like a fool. Once Aristides proposed something, and the council of four hundred -- over the objections of Themistocles and his party -- approved it. When it was submitted to the people for their ratification, and some good reasons were presented against it, Aristides got up and spoke against his own bill. It was his opinion that every honest citizen had a duty to serve the public interest without hope of any money or glory.
The Athenians chose Aristides to be their treasurer, and he discovered that Themistocles (who had held this office previously) had embezzled large sums of money from the public funds. When Aristides presented the evidence, Themistocles and his party made such a show of outrage and wounded dignity at this accusation that Aristides was fired and also fined for abusing his office. But the best men of Athens saw that a great wrong had been done, and they managed by their efforts to convince the people to repeal the fine and to allow Aristides to continue in his office for the next year.
After that experience, Aristides said nothing about corruption, and therefore the crooks praised him for being an outstanding public servant. These were his loudest supporters for another term in office as treasurer. After he was re-elected in a landslide, Aristides addressed the Athenians: "When I did my job to the best of my ability, you fired me and fined me. When I said nothing about the theft of public money, you called me an honest man and re-elected me. I want you to know that I am more ashamed of the honor you give me today than I was of the dishonor you put on me last year. It's a shame that you think it better to please the wicked than to preserve our city." He then proceeded to give them a full account of all of the corruption of the past year as the crooks listened aghast. That dog doesn't love anyone but Xanthippus.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Xerxes In The Movies
OK. I know I said I'd get another WIP piece up on the site but a) the chapter isn't quite ready even in a rough draft state, and b) I work full-time and so it's hard to spend lots of time on O&E right now. But no worries. Slowly it's coming along. In the meantime, I've recently spotted Ancient Persians all over the place!A few days ago I rented One Night With The King, a movie that follows the Book of Esther in the Bible. It's believed by many that the king in the story is none other than King Xerxes I of Persia. Thus I wanted to see how they portrayed Ancient Persia and the Persians in the movie, and see if I could gleam any ideas from it. Alas, the movie isn't very good. The acting by the two main characters is cringe-worthy, and the story moves along at a rather clunky pace. I did however love the special effects and costumes, and was amazed that Luke Gross serpentine eyes are almost exactly how I envisioned Xerxes' eyes to look. I also noticed James Callis is almost exactly how I envision Mardonius in my head (well, him and Eric Bana from Troy).
Xerxes isn't the only Ancient Persian being portrayed on the screen either.Last night I watched the 5th part of I, Claudius, the 70's BBC production based on the book by Robert Graves. The acting in it is supurb and the costumes and sets are amazing. Imagine my surprise however when in one scene what looked like a Persian (and a Mede?) are standing right behind Claudius! I'm not sure what happens to the Ancient Persians after Alexander sacks Persapolis, so someone may have to confirm if I'm right about this one.
At any rate, I now feel inspired to go back and work more on my WIP. Hopefully in the next week it will be up and ready to go.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Owl & Eagle Update
I'm still working on the Owl & The Eagle.
I've got a couple of WIP stuff uploaded onto the site but have to tweak them a bit before sharing them with all two of my readers (LOL). One is from the POV of King Alexander I, and the other is from the POV of Themistocles. It's been a long, slow race towards the finish, but I'm still hanging in there. Hopefully I'll get one of my WIP chapters up in the next few days.
I've got a couple of WIP stuff uploaded onto the site but have to tweak them a bit before sharing them with all two of my readers (LOL). One is from the POV of King Alexander I, and the other is from the POV of Themistocles. It's been a long, slow race towards the finish, but I'm still hanging in there. Hopefully I'll get one of my WIP chapters up in the next few days.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Ikea
I am utterly exhausted.
A simple errand such as buying a bookshelf for my room should not have been this much of an ordeal. Yet it was, and I blame Ikea. Here's why.
I used to have a bookshelf when I was little. It was vine-shaped and made out of iron, small and always cool to the touch. Then after I moved to Japan my parents took the bookshelf out of the room, thinking I had left never to return. I did return though, and I brought all my books back with me. Yet for over two years I dithered on getting a new bookshelf, preferring to just stack my books in one vacant corner of my room, near my bathtub or under my bed. Books, newspaper articles and magazines were anywhere and everywhere, and it still never occured to be that I needed a bookshelf urgently. Someday I would. But right now? I had better things to spend my money on. Like more books.
Then last week I got seven more books on Greece & Persia, plus I bought a few more fashion magazines to add to my growing collection. And so I finally decided to quit procrastinating and drive to Ikea for an inexpensive but nice bookshelf for my literature.
I had been to Ikea before but forgotten how daunting it is. The building stretches for what seems a city block or more, with no windows and no way to get around without getting turned around. After making my way inside I wandered a bit aimlessly, trying to get my bearings. There was an area for living room furniture, for office furniture, and even dining room furniture, but what category did a bookshelf fall into? (short answer: library) I didn't see anything like that though, and in any case, I just wanted something small and tasteful. To my surprise I managed to find such a bookshelf, and for the reasonable price of $100. Satisfied, I scribbled down the ticket information on a receipt in pink lipstick (a writer without a pen and paper!) and then...had no idea to get down to the "Market Hall."
Embarrassed I decided to retrace my steps back the way I came (running into a dead-end or two) and luckily found the stairs. After making my way down to the bottom floor I grabbed a cart, pushed along to the designated aisle, and puzzled over the size of the bookshelf. Or rather, the length of it. My car is a Toyota Yaris, a great little car but not exactly a pick-up truck, and I wasn't sure how I was going to fit my bookshelf into it. Well, if worse comes to worse I'll just take it out of the box, I told myself.
After zipping through the line (luckily the store wasn't too crowded) I made my way over to the home delivery section. "How much is it to get this delivered to my house," I asked a tad breathlessly from pushing the cart around. "Eighty dollars," the woman behind the counter replied stone-faced. Eighty dollars!? That's almost as much as the bookshelf! I managed to stutter out something about trying to fit it into my car and pushed my cart outside. Eighty dollars! Who were they kidding?
As I pushed along I began to have the sinking feeling that I was not allowed to take my cart all the way out to where I was parked. Sure enough I ran into a sign declaring as much, and was forced to turn around. The loading zone was far from where I was parked, but I was going to have to drop off my stuff, walk to my car and then drive it to the loading zone whether I wanted to or not. I returned to the exit area and looked around for someone who could watch my cart while I ran to get my car. I asked one lady but she (nicely) explained that she was about to have someone help her get her stuff loaded and might be gone by the time I got back. After an employee had finished loading the lady's things in her car, I asked if he could help me. "Where's your car?" "Way down there," I explained, beckoning in a south-easterly direction. Unwilling to wait around in case he needed to help other customers, he told me "you need to take that inside," and pointed to my load. Losing patience (especially since I thought he might say that) I stalked into Ikea, shoved my bookshelf unwatched into a corner and sprinted to my car. After I pulled up and un-popped the trunk I dragged out my purchase. One look at my bookshelf and then at my car told me this was going to be a be a challenge, if it worked at all. It was time to see what I could do.
Remembering how my mom and I had managed to fit something from Bombay Company into another car years ago, I used my keys to rip off the tape and took the bookself pieces out of the box. It started off promising: the first bits were the actual shelves to the bookshelf and were nice and small. Things got dicy however when I pulled out the side panels. They were the reason my package was so heavy and long. I felt tears welling up. There was no way these tree trunks were going to fit into my car. Even if I rolled down the window the boards would stick out too far out. Even worse, I had taken my bookshelf out of the box so now I was going to either have to a) ask for a whole new box so that Ikea could deliver it, or b) go through a lot of trouble to have the boards put on top of my car and strapped down. Neither alternative was appealing. By the way, it's interesting to note that Ikea employees and patrons were walking past the whole time, but whether they really didn't see a 5'3" woman struggling with her purchase or simply chose not to I don't know.
Just as I was about to give up however, I decided to give it one more shot. I took the plank boards and angled them in the back seat so the ends stuck out my back window, and LUCKILY they didn't stick out too far. Or rather, I told myself they didn't as I fell exhausted into my front seat and turned the ignition over. As I drove I home I envisioned knocking down tree branches, cyclists or unsuspecting joggers, or even worse getting stopped by the police ("you're not allowed to stick lumber out your car window, Miss)." My luck held though, and now my bookshelf is safely in the house, ready to be assembled. How THAT will go is a different story...
A simple errand such as buying a bookshelf for my room should not have been this much of an ordeal. Yet it was, and I blame Ikea. Here's why.
I used to have a bookshelf when I was little. It was vine-shaped and made out of iron, small and always cool to the touch. Then after I moved to Japan my parents took the bookshelf out of the room, thinking I had left never to return. I did return though, and I brought all my books back with me. Yet for over two years I dithered on getting a new bookshelf, preferring to just stack my books in one vacant corner of my room, near my bathtub or under my bed. Books, newspaper articles and magazines were anywhere and everywhere, and it still never occured to be that I needed a bookshelf urgently. Someday I would. But right now? I had better things to spend my money on. Like more books.
Then last week I got seven more books on Greece & Persia, plus I bought a few more fashion magazines to add to my growing collection. And so I finally decided to quit procrastinating and drive to Ikea for an inexpensive but nice bookshelf for my literature.
I had been to Ikea before but forgotten how daunting it is. The building stretches for what seems a city block or more, with no windows and no way to get around without getting turned around. After making my way inside I wandered a bit aimlessly, trying to get my bearings. There was an area for living room furniture, for office furniture, and even dining room furniture, but what category did a bookshelf fall into? (short answer: library) I didn't see anything like that though, and in any case, I just wanted something small and tasteful. To my surprise I managed to find such a bookshelf, and for the reasonable price of $100. Satisfied, I scribbled down the ticket information on a receipt in pink lipstick (a writer without a pen and paper!) and then...had no idea to get down to the "Market Hall."
Embarrassed I decided to retrace my steps back the way I came (running into a dead-end or two) and luckily found the stairs. After making my way down to the bottom floor I grabbed a cart, pushed along to the designated aisle, and puzzled over the size of the bookshelf. Or rather, the length of it. My car is a Toyota Yaris, a great little car but not exactly a pick-up truck, and I wasn't sure how I was going to fit my bookshelf into it. Well, if worse comes to worse I'll just take it out of the box, I told myself.
After zipping through the line (luckily the store wasn't too crowded) I made my way over to the home delivery section. "How much is it to get this delivered to my house," I asked a tad breathlessly from pushing the cart around. "Eighty dollars," the woman behind the counter replied stone-faced. Eighty dollars!? That's almost as much as the bookshelf! I managed to stutter out something about trying to fit it into my car and pushed my cart outside. Eighty dollars! Who were they kidding?
As I pushed along I began to have the sinking feeling that I was not allowed to take my cart all the way out to where I was parked. Sure enough I ran into a sign declaring as much, and was forced to turn around. The loading zone was far from where I was parked, but I was going to have to drop off my stuff, walk to my car and then drive it to the loading zone whether I wanted to or not. I returned to the exit area and looked around for someone who could watch my cart while I ran to get my car. I asked one lady but she (nicely) explained that she was about to have someone help her get her stuff loaded and might be gone by the time I got back. After an employee had finished loading the lady's things in her car, I asked if he could help me. "Where's your car?" "Way down there," I explained, beckoning in a south-easterly direction. Unwilling to wait around in case he needed to help other customers, he told me "you need to take that inside," and pointed to my load. Losing patience (especially since I thought he might say that) I stalked into Ikea, shoved my bookshelf unwatched into a corner and sprinted to my car. After I pulled up and un-popped the trunk I dragged out my purchase. One look at my bookshelf and then at my car told me this was going to be a be a challenge, if it worked at all. It was time to see what I could do.
Remembering how my mom and I had managed to fit something from Bombay Company into another car years ago, I used my keys to rip off the tape and took the bookself pieces out of the box. It started off promising: the first bits were the actual shelves to the bookshelf and were nice and small. Things got dicy however when I pulled out the side panels. They were the reason my package was so heavy and long. I felt tears welling up. There was no way these tree trunks were going to fit into my car. Even if I rolled down the window the boards would stick out too far out. Even worse, I had taken my bookshelf out of the box so now I was going to either have to a) ask for a whole new box so that Ikea could deliver it, or b) go through a lot of trouble to have the boards put on top of my car and strapped down. Neither alternative was appealing. By the way, it's interesting to note that Ikea employees and patrons were walking past the whole time, but whether they really didn't see a 5'3" woman struggling with her purchase or simply chose not to I don't know.
Just as I was about to give up however, I decided to give it one more shot. I took the plank boards and angled them in the back seat so the ends stuck out my back window, and LUCKILY they didn't stick out too far. Or rather, I told myself they didn't as I fell exhausted into my front seat and turned the ignition over. As I drove I home I envisioned knocking down tree branches, cyclists or unsuspecting joggers, or even worse getting stopped by the police ("you're not allowed to stick lumber out your car window, Miss)." My luck held though, and now my bookshelf is safely in the house, ready to be assembled. How THAT will go is a different story...
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Character Profile: Artabanus
While writing the Owl & The Eagle I've tried to present both sides of the Greco-Persian conflict in an equal manner. This is sometimes hard to do since the Ancient Persians did not leave a whole lot of writing behind, unlike the Ancient Greeks (most of our information on the Greco-Persian conflicts comes from the latter). Still, I've come to realize that the Persian prince Artabanus (the uncle of King Xerxes and according to Herodotus one of his trusted advisors) is by far one of my favorite characters on either side of the conflict in The O&E. Unlike most of the figures in Herodotus, Artabanus is not driven by ambition or alternative motives. When Xerxes announces that he plans to personally lead his army against Greece, it is Artabanus alone who begs him not to. He tells the king he has a bad feeling about the invasion, and that it is too problematic of a campaign anyway. Xerxes ignores this advice, and sends Artabanus to Susa to watch the capital while he's away. In the end Artabanus ends up being right, and Xerxes is defeated in Greece.
In my mind's eye, Artabanus looks very much like the Persian noble in the picture above. He's tall, well-built, and is both dignified and regal. He is fair of skin, with dark coiffed hair and large dark eyes that shine with intelligence. He grew up loving even the most arcane knowledge and is somewhat of a "bookworm." He is also a good listener and of a mild temperment, and this makes him a good arbitrator when conflict arises.
Artabanus loves his family dearly, especially his two grandchildren who are all that remain to him of his favorite son Darius (who was lost at sea during the first Greco-Persian war). He is quick to smile, yet his large dark eyes are always sad, for he holds in his heart a terrible secret, a secret that if ever revealed could jepordize his entire family, including the Great King himself...
**Note: If you're interested, check out the September/October section of my archives and read the story from the POV of Artabanus.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
My Ego
I've been tagged by Wynn! This is the first time anybody has tagged me. It's kind of exciting, actually! At any rate, the topic is "Eight things about Me" (I rounded it off to ten just for fun).
1) I'm a Leo. Meaning I love attention, think the center of any universe should be me, and am overly proud.
2) I'm also a Sheep/Ram. At least according to the Chinese Zodiac. This means that I'm spoiled (true) and surprisingly shy (true).
3) I love to write. I feel like I can never write enough, and am happiest when I've written something I'm proud of.
4) I love languages. I took five years of Spanish and almost five years of Japanese (I continue to self-study both). I also took French, and have tried to learn a bit of Russian, German and Mandarin. I'm also thinking of learning Ancient Greek to help with my novel The Owl & The Eagle.
5) I've lived in Japan and am a lover of almost all things Japanese. I've thought about publishing some of my emails from Japan since they're always about some interesting place I went to or some experience I've had (examples include going to a ninja restaurant, trying to fish for my dinner, getting caught in a typhoon, and attending a fashion show).
6) I love history. Most of my reading material is historical. In fact, my idea for "The Owl & The Eagle" came from reading "The Battle of Salamis" by Barry Strauss. I also read a lot of historical fiction novels, and enjoy reading books by authors like Scott Oden, Steven Pressfield and David Anthony Durham.
1) I'm a Leo. Meaning I love attention, think the center of any universe should be me, and am overly proud.
2) I'm also a Sheep/Ram. At least according to the Chinese Zodiac. This means that I'm spoiled (true) and surprisingly shy (true).
3) I love to write. I feel like I can never write enough, and am happiest when I've written something I'm proud of.
4) I love languages. I took five years of Spanish and almost five years of Japanese (I continue to self-study both). I also took French, and have tried to learn a bit of Russian, German and Mandarin. I'm also thinking of learning Ancient Greek to help with my novel The Owl & The Eagle.
5) I've lived in Japan and am a lover of almost all things Japanese. I've thought about publishing some of my emails from Japan since they're always about some interesting place I went to or some experience I've had (examples include going to a ninja restaurant, trying to fish for my dinner, getting caught in a typhoon, and attending a fashion show).
6) I love history. Most of my reading material is historical. In fact, my idea for "The Owl & The Eagle" came from reading "The Battle of Salamis" by Barry Strauss. I also read a lot of historical fiction novels, and enjoy reading books by authors like Scott Oden, Steven Pressfield and David Anthony Durham.
7) I love Greek Mythology. My love for it started in 1st or 2nd grade and is still with me. My favorite Greek goddess is Aphrodite, and my favorite Greek god is Hermes.
8) I love Fantasy novels. Robert Jordan and George RR Martin are my two favorite Fantasy authors. I like that their stories are about characters and not just a string of plot points.
9) I love wrestling (yeah, you read that right). It's just a soap opera with hot guys. My favorites over the years include Bret Hart, The Undertaker, and HHH.
10) My real name isn't Megumi, but when I was in High School I didn't like to give out my personal information to strangers on the Internet (I still don't). So, I decided to adapt the Japanese name Megumi for my "online persona," and still use it today.
So there you go. Now you know a little more about me. In other news, my first novel The Owl & The Eagle continues to progress, and will hopefully be finished by late summer. Maybe I should make that a birthday present to myself...
I tag anyone who's read this blog and wants to participate (^_^)
8) I love Fantasy novels. Robert Jordan and George RR Martin are my two favorite Fantasy authors. I like that their stories are about characters and not just a string of plot points.
9) I love wrestling (yeah, you read that right). It's just a soap opera with hot guys. My favorites over the years include Bret Hart, The Undertaker, and HHH.
10) My real name isn't Megumi, but when I was in High School I didn't like to give out my personal information to strangers on the Internet (I still don't). So, I decided to adapt the Japanese name Megumi for my "online persona," and still use it today.
So there you go. Now you know a little more about me. In other news, my first novel The Owl & The Eagle continues to progress, and will hopefully be finished by late summer. Maybe I should make that a birthday present to myself...
I tag anyone who's read this blog and wants to participate (^_^)
Friday, May 11, 2007
Getting Ready For Publishing
I'm not very good at taking criticism.
I always take it super personally, and feel devastated when my work is ripped apart (but then, who doesn't?) Lately though I've gotten better, as is evident by the fact I took feedback about my IGN review of Final Fantasy soundtracks in stride. Some of the more entertaining comments include the following:
"That Meghan Sullivan chick wouldn't know Final Fantasy music if it kicked her in the head."
And then there's this gem:
"for more giggles and eye rolls, i took a look at the writer's blog. the level of maturity and eloquence there is comical."
Granted these are kids who don't think before they shoot off an email, but it's good training for when real critics begin to evaluate my novel(s).
If you're wondering what blog the one reader is talking about, check out http://blogs.ign.com/meghan-ign/ and judge the blog for yourself. (^_^)
I always take it super personally, and feel devastated when my work is ripped apart (but then, who doesn't?) Lately though I've gotten better, as is evident by the fact I took feedback about my IGN review of Final Fantasy soundtracks in stride. Some of the more entertaining comments include the following:
"That Meghan Sullivan chick wouldn't know Final Fantasy music if it kicked her in the head."
And then there's this gem:
"for more giggles and eye rolls, i took a look at the writer's blog. the level of maturity and eloquence there is comical."
Granted these are kids who don't think before they shoot off an email, but it's good training for when real critics begin to evaluate my novel(s).
If you're wondering what blog the one reader is talking about, check out http://blogs.ign.com/meghan-ign/ and judge the blog for yourself. (^_^)
Friday, May 04, 2007
Scott Oden Is The Man
Recently Scott Oden received a glowing review for his work here: http://www.thecimmerian.com/?p=646
This is pretty awesome stuff, so if you haven't done so check out what this reviewer had to say about works like Memnon and Men of Bronze. Congrats, Scott!
This is pretty awesome stuff, so if you haven't done so check out what this reviewer had to say about works like Memnon and Men of Bronze. Congrats, Scott!
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Herodotus In Film
I'm always on the look out for material that can help me understand the Ancient Hellenes better. I feel like there's never enough. Yet when I want more information I usually turn to books or articles, since TV and movies tend not to be overly accurate or helpful. I was pleasantly surprised however when I watched the PBS special Greeks: Crucible of Civilization Special Edition. This nearly three hour documentary covers the amazingly rich history of Ancient Athens from the 6th century BC until the fall of the polis, using actors and a host of prominent historians to walk us through the events of the time. Among the more notable historians that appear in this film are Barry Strauss, Victor Davis Hanson and Paul Cartledge, all names that should be familiar to people studying Ancient Greece. These men lend a sense of legitimacy to the documentary that a lot of similar films lack. Yet what really sets this work apart is the director's ability to take the viewer back through time, showing us a glimpse of what life might have been like for men like Themistocles and Pericles.
Instead of offering cheesy acting or dialogue, the director hired professional actors and even real local specialists to simply act out different events. He also had cinematic shots of the modern city of Athens subtly painted over to make it look like more archaic, so when the shots appear on screen it's like you're seeing the city as it might might have been thousands of years ago. Especially impressive is the aversion of studio-made sets. When the film portrays men knocking olives out of trees, you know that those are real olive trees in the Attica countryside. When you see a spectacular shot of a trireme, you're looking at a real ship (the one built a few years ago by scholors). No expense is spared, not corners cut...but that's not to say the film is above reproach.
Despite its name, the documentary rarely focuses on any city-state but Athens, and almost never mentions men or battles that don't have anything to do with it. The oversight of events like Thermopylae is especially cringe worthy. Yet if you opt to listen to the Director's Commentary, the director does mention that he chose to have the film revolve around only a few select men (all Athenian), so a piece about Leonidas and his accomplishments would admittedly be akward. Still, it would have been better to change the documentary's name to Ancient Athens: Crucible of Civilization, thus making the absence of certain battles and historical figures less conspicuous.
This misnomer can be forgiven though once you realize the director's complete commitment to making this film as good as possible. Not only did he use professional actors and real locations, he also hired an orchestra to make a stirring and riveting soundtrack. This beautifully compliments the story telling in its richness and detail, making the experience of watching the film even more pleasant. So if you love Ancient Athens and want to see a detailed and complete picture of the early years of the polis, rent or buy this DVD. And hey: it's hosted by Liam Neelson. What more could you ask?
Instead of offering cheesy acting or dialogue, the director hired professional actors and even real local specialists to simply act out different events. He also had cinematic shots of the modern city of Athens subtly painted over to make it look like more archaic, so when the shots appear on screen it's like you're seeing the city as it might might have been thousands of years ago. Especially impressive is the aversion of studio-made sets. When the film portrays men knocking olives out of trees, you know that those are real olive trees in the Attica countryside. When you see a spectacular shot of a trireme, you're looking at a real ship (the one built a few years ago by scholors). No expense is spared, not corners cut...but that's not to say the film is above reproach.
Despite its name, the documentary rarely focuses on any city-state but Athens, and almost never mentions men or battles that don't have anything to do with it. The oversight of events like Thermopylae is especially cringe worthy. Yet if you opt to listen to the Director's Commentary, the director does mention that he chose to have the film revolve around only a few select men (all Athenian), so a piece about Leonidas and his accomplishments would admittedly be akward. Still, it would have been better to change the documentary's name to Ancient Athens: Crucible of Civilization, thus making the absence of certain battles and historical figures less conspicuous.
This misnomer can be forgiven though once you realize the director's complete commitment to making this film as good as possible. Not only did he use professional actors and real locations, he also hired an orchestra to make a stirring and riveting soundtrack. This beautifully compliments the story telling in its richness and detail, making the experience of watching the film even more pleasant. So if you love Ancient Athens and want to see a detailed and complete picture of the early years of the polis, rent or buy this DVD. And hey: it's hosted by Liam Neelson. What more could you ask?
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Book List & Random Thoughts
I often find useful information for my novel in the most random of places. Like the time I was reading an article on proper napkin etiquette and learned that the Spartans were one of the first on record to use napkins (the Spartans!) These notorious warriors would actually roll a ball of clay around their palms to clean their hands after they ate. This useful tidbit was from a tea magazine, probably the last place you would think to find an article that involved the rough and tough Laconians. There's also the time I was reading a fashion magazine and learned that the black kohl eyeliner made famous by the Egyptians was less about fashion and more about reducing the harsh glare of the desert sun.
Yet even while I stumble upon awesome bits of information, I still have an ever-growing collection of books, Internet articles and DVDs stashed in my room that help me try to understand the world in which the ancient Hellenes and Persians lived in. A part of me is very proud of the fact that I have over 40 books, the other suspects true researchers would yawn at the lowly double digits. In any case, here's a list of the works I have (non-fiction and fiction), with stars for ones I find especially helpful or interesting and would recommend to people.
1) Broad, William. The Oracle: Ancient Delphi And The Science Behind Its Lost Secrets
2) Burket, Walter. Greek Religion
3) Cartledge, Paul. Thermopylae: The Battle That Changed The World
4) Cartledge, Paul. Sparta & Laconia: A Regional History 1300-362 BC ***
5) Cartledge, Paul. Spartan Reflections
6) Cartledge, Paul. The Spartans: The World of The Warrior-Heroes of Ancient Greece***
7) Cassin-Scott, Jack. The Greek & Persian Wars 500-323 BC
8) Connolly, Peter & Dodge, Hazel. The Ancient City: Life in Classical Athens & Rome
9) Corenenko, Dr. EV. The Scythians
10) Curtis, John E. & Tallis, Nigel. Forgotten Empire: The World of Ancient Persia ***
11) Durando, Furio. Ancient Greece: The Dawn of The Western World
12) Durant, Will: The Life of Greece
13) Flaceliere, Robert. Daily Life In Greece At The Time of Pericles ***
14) Garland, Robert. Introducing New Gods: The Politics of Athenian Religion
15)Grant, Michael. The Rise of The Greeks
16) Green, Peter. The Greco-Persian Wars
17) Hanson, Victor Davis. A War Like No Other ***
18) Handson, Victor Davis. Hoplites: The Classical Greek Battle Experience
19) Handson, Vicotr Davis. The Western Way of War
20) Herodotus. The History ***
21) Holland, Tom. Persian Fire ***
22) Homer. The Illiad ***
23) Homer. The Odyssey ***
24) Houston, Mary G. Ancient Egyptian, Mesopotamian & Persian Costume
25) Hughes, Bettany. Helen of Troy: Goddess, Princess, Whore
26)Lendon, J.E. Soldiers & Ghosts: A History of Battle In Classical Antiquity
27) Martin, Jon Edward. In Kithairon's Shadow: A Novel of Ancient Greece & The Persian War
28) Mayor, Adrienne. Greek Fire, Poison Arrows & Scorpion Bombs: Biological & Chemical Warfare in The Ancient Worlds
29) Mikalson, Jon D. Herodotus & Relgion In The Persian Wars
30) Miller, Stephen. Arete: Greek Sports From Ancient Sources
31) Mitchell, Stephen. Gilgamesh ***
32)Nelson, Eric PhD. & Susan K. PhD. The Complete Idiot's Guide To Ancient Greece ***
33) Nicastro, Nicholas. The Isle of Stone
34) Oden, Scott. Memnon ***
35) Oden, Scott. Men of Bronze ***
36) Oppenheim, A. Leo. Ancient Mesopotamia: Portrait of a Dead Civilization
37) Ostler, Nicholas. Empires of The World: A Language History of The World ***
38) Parin d'Aulain, Ingris & Edar. Daulaire's Book of Greek Myths ***
39) Plutarch. On Sparta ***
40) Pressfield, Steven. Gates of Fire ***
41) Pressfield, Steven. Tides of War
42) Sekunda, Nicholas. The Spartan Army ***
43) Sekunda, Nicholas. The Persian Army 560-330 BC ***
44) Sekunda, Nicholas. The Ancient Greeks
45)Strauss, Barry. The Battle of Salamis: The Naval Encounter That Saved Greece-and Western Civilization ***
46)Thompson, Dorothy Burr & Grisworld Ralph E. (American School of Classical Studies At Athens). Garden Lore of Ancient Athens
47) Thucydides. History of The Peloponnesian War ***
48) Van Vliet, Eugenia R. Dinners With Famous Women: From Cleopatra To Indira Ghandi
49) Whitley, Michael. Sparta
50) Wolfert, Paula. The Cooking of The Eastern Mediterranean
Note that some works are missing because I don't really own them. I've been able to read Hesoid and some of Plutarch's work online, and some books simply I borrowed from libraries. I also didn't include any DVDs I have (such as the excellent documentary on Sparta by Bettany Huges) or History Channel specials. If you have a book you'd like to recommend or want to learn about, let me know. (^_^)
Yet even while I stumble upon awesome bits of information, I still have an ever-growing collection of books, Internet articles and DVDs stashed in my room that help me try to understand the world in which the ancient Hellenes and Persians lived in. A part of me is very proud of the fact that I have over 40 books, the other suspects true researchers would yawn at the lowly double digits. In any case, here's a list of the works I have (non-fiction and fiction), with stars for ones I find especially helpful or interesting and would recommend to people.
1) Broad, William. The Oracle: Ancient Delphi And The Science Behind Its Lost Secrets
2) Burket, Walter. Greek Religion
3) Cartledge, Paul. Thermopylae: The Battle That Changed The World
4) Cartledge, Paul. Sparta & Laconia: A Regional History 1300-362 BC ***
5) Cartledge, Paul. Spartan Reflections
6) Cartledge, Paul. The Spartans: The World of The Warrior-Heroes of Ancient Greece***
7) Cassin-Scott, Jack. The Greek & Persian Wars 500-323 BC
8) Connolly, Peter & Dodge, Hazel. The Ancient City: Life in Classical Athens & Rome
9) Corenenko, Dr. EV. The Scythians
10) Curtis, John E. & Tallis, Nigel. Forgotten Empire: The World of Ancient Persia ***
11) Durando, Furio. Ancient Greece: The Dawn of The Western World
12) Durant, Will: The Life of Greece
13) Flaceliere, Robert. Daily Life In Greece At The Time of Pericles ***
14) Garland, Robert. Introducing New Gods: The Politics of Athenian Religion
15)Grant, Michael. The Rise of The Greeks
16) Green, Peter. The Greco-Persian Wars
17) Hanson, Victor Davis. A War Like No Other ***
18) Handson, Victor Davis. Hoplites: The Classical Greek Battle Experience
19) Handson, Vicotr Davis. The Western Way of War
20) Herodotus. The History ***
21) Holland, Tom. Persian Fire ***
22) Homer. The Illiad ***
23) Homer. The Odyssey ***
24) Houston, Mary G. Ancient Egyptian, Mesopotamian & Persian Costume
25) Hughes, Bettany. Helen of Troy: Goddess, Princess, Whore
26)Lendon, J.E. Soldiers & Ghosts: A History of Battle In Classical Antiquity
27) Martin, Jon Edward. In Kithairon's Shadow: A Novel of Ancient Greece & The Persian War
28) Mayor, Adrienne. Greek Fire, Poison Arrows & Scorpion Bombs: Biological & Chemical Warfare in The Ancient Worlds
29) Mikalson, Jon D. Herodotus & Relgion In The Persian Wars
30) Miller, Stephen. Arete: Greek Sports From Ancient Sources
31) Mitchell, Stephen. Gilgamesh ***
32)Nelson, Eric PhD. & Susan K. PhD. The Complete Idiot's Guide To Ancient Greece ***
33) Nicastro, Nicholas. The Isle of Stone
34) Oden, Scott. Memnon ***
35) Oden, Scott. Men of Bronze ***
36) Oppenheim, A. Leo. Ancient Mesopotamia: Portrait of a Dead Civilization
37) Ostler, Nicholas. Empires of The World: A Language History of The World ***
38) Parin d'Aulain, Ingris & Edar. Daulaire's Book of Greek Myths ***
39) Plutarch. On Sparta ***
40) Pressfield, Steven. Gates of Fire ***
41) Pressfield, Steven. Tides of War
42) Sekunda, Nicholas. The Spartan Army ***
43) Sekunda, Nicholas. The Persian Army 560-330 BC ***
44) Sekunda, Nicholas. The Ancient Greeks
45)Strauss, Barry. The Battle of Salamis: The Naval Encounter That Saved Greece-and Western Civilization ***
46)Thompson, Dorothy Burr & Grisworld Ralph E. (American School of Classical Studies At Athens). Garden Lore of Ancient Athens
47) Thucydides. History of The Peloponnesian War ***
48) Van Vliet, Eugenia R. Dinners With Famous Women: From Cleopatra To Indira Ghandi
49) Whitley, Michael. Sparta
50) Wolfert, Paula. The Cooking of The Eastern Mediterranean
Note that some works are missing because I don't really own them. I've been able to read Hesoid and some of Plutarch's work online, and some books simply I borrowed from libraries. I also didn't include any DVDs I have (such as the excellent documentary on Sparta by Bettany Huges) or History Channel specials. If you have a book you'd like to recommend or want to learn about, let me know. (^_^)
Friday, April 13, 2007
What To Do
I'm worried.
I am writing three books on the second Persian War (yeah, I'm over-the-top ambitious). Most of the action in my series won't take start until book two. Book one is the set-up for everything that happens in the war, which allows me to introduce characters, places, and the events that lead to the confrontation between Hellas and Persia. However...
I worry about having too many discussions and flashbacks concerning the Ionian Rebellion (which occured at least 10 years before the story takes place and is essential to understanding why Xerxes is on the march). I'm worried that all the war councils and discussions about fighting are boring. I'm worried that my characters lack dimension. I'm worried about the overall layout of the story.
Do I worry too much? Not enough? Help!
I am writing three books on the second Persian War (yeah, I'm over-the-top ambitious). Most of the action in my series won't take start until book two. Book one is the set-up for everything that happens in the war, which allows me to introduce characters, places, and the events that lead to the confrontation between Hellas and Persia. However...
I worry about having too many discussions and flashbacks concerning the Ionian Rebellion (which occured at least 10 years before the story takes place and is essential to understanding why Xerxes is on the march). I'm worried that all the war councils and discussions about fighting are boring. I'm worried that my characters lack dimension. I'm worried about the overall layout of the story.
Do I worry too much? Not enough? Help!
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Character Profile: Themistocles
"I am not of the noble Grecian race,I'm poor Abrotonon, and born in Thrace;
Let the Greek women scorn me, if they please,
I was the mother of Themistocles."
--Plutarch
Thems--as I like to call him for short-- is by far the most exciting yet difficult character to write about in The Owl & The Eagle. This man has so much charisma and ambition it's ridiculous. He is poisounous charm, foxy intelligence, shrewd merchant and zealous patriot. He's always looking out for number one, and doesn't care much about who he has to step on to stay at the top. He is the cult of personality, which makes it exceedingly hard to grasp who the real Themistocles is.
In my story, Thems does indeed have the bulldog face and curly hair of that famous bust you see above, but there's a twist. In my mind's eye he's a carrot-top, with orangish red hair set off by a pair of small, hazel eyes that see sharply. He's quick to laugh and most insults roll right off his back; he's used to them. He's managed to dodge ostracism and Persian arrows so little frigthens him except for failure, or worse, fading into obscurity. It seems he takes little seriously but he's always calculating and factoring things into his plans, because he is blessed with uncanny forsight. He is impatient and often blunt, which tends to rub some people the wrong way. The commoners love him though, because he is willing to converse among them and speak up for them, even though it's usually to his own benefit...
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Go Tell The Readers
First, let me just say that I am a huge fan of Paul Cartledge. I devour his books on Sparta because he knows the subject better than anyone else. He's also very friendly. When I consulted him by email on a point of fact concerning King Cleomenes I, not only did he answer my question, but he made sure his answer was in-depth and personable. So naturally when I was given a copy Thermopylae: The Battle That Changed The World, I jumped for joy. Unfortunately, I should have just saved my energy.
Very little of the book is designated to the battle itself. Most of the story is a basic brush-up of the Persian wars, with only a brief description of Thermopylae followed by an an attempt to show the influence of the battle throughout history. The writing is clumsy and littered with many repetitious statements and the author’s attempt at laconic witticisms (which ended up being highly intrusive to the narration). I was especially mystified by the lack of specific detail. After all, this is the same man who brought us the brilliant and exhaustingly detailed Sparta And Lakonia: A Regional History 1300 To 362 BC. So unless he didn’t want to (or was told not to) bog down the average reader with too much logistics, I see no reason why Professor Cartledge couldn’t have included more information about Thermopylae and the events that took place there.
What's even more shocking than the lack of detail is the factual errors I encountered. For example, in one chapter Cartledge claims the falling out between Leotychidas II and his cousin Demaratus was due to the former stealing the latter’s bride. Now, unless I missed a "Historian Staff Meeting," it's actually the other way around. The story of Demaratus making off with his cousin’s betrothed is found in Herodotus, and Cartledge mentions it in his earlier work The Spartans: The World of The Warrior-Heroes of Ancient Greece. The author even claims that that Demaratus was “...showing himself a true son of his tricky father…[and]stole his bride from a distant cousin.” I was baffled by this glaring error and am not sure why it wasn’t caught, unless my suspicion that this work was rushed is correct.
Then there is the claim that the battle changed the world. That’s a fairly lofty declaration, and one that requires more proof than was presented (the argument is not a bad one, but again lack of detail hurt this book). Although Thermopylae influenced men throughout history in some way or another, without the key victories at Salamis and Plataea, the story of Thermopylae would ultimately be one of futility. I also didn’t like the attempts to compare Thermopylae and the events of 9/11 and 7/7. There is nothing to compare. The former was an open war where men chose to fight for freedom. The latter was a surprise attack where religious fanatics used innocent people to kill more innocent people with no warning. Persia wanted to rule the Hellenes, not destroy them.
I adore Paul Cartledge and don’t want to discourage people from getting his other memorable and important works on the Spartans. They’re well-researched and have some great pictures of Sparta and items found there. They also dive into fascinating detail that may help fledgling historical fiction authors get a grasp on the times and events that took place in the 480 BCE. So if you haven’t done so yet, I highly suggest buying the following works: The Spartans: The World of The Warrior-Heroes of Ancient Greece, Spartan Reflections, and The History of Spartan and Laconia.
Very little of the book is designated to the battle itself. Most of the story is a basic brush-up of the Persian wars, with only a brief description of Thermopylae followed by an an attempt to show the influence of the battle throughout history. The writing is clumsy and littered with many repetitious statements and the author’s attempt at laconic witticisms (which ended up being highly intrusive to the narration). I was especially mystified by the lack of specific detail. After all, this is the same man who brought us the brilliant and exhaustingly detailed Sparta And Lakonia: A Regional History 1300 To 362 BC. So unless he didn’t want to (or was told not to) bog down the average reader with too much logistics, I see no reason why Professor Cartledge couldn’t have included more information about Thermopylae and the events that took place there.
What's even more shocking than the lack of detail is the factual errors I encountered. For example, in one chapter Cartledge claims the falling out between Leotychidas II and his cousin Demaratus was due to the former stealing the latter’s bride. Now, unless I missed a "Historian Staff Meeting," it's actually the other way around. The story of Demaratus making off with his cousin’s betrothed is found in Herodotus, and Cartledge mentions it in his earlier work The Spartans: The World of The Warrior-Heroes of Ancient Greece. The author even claims that that Demaratus was “...showing himself a true son of his tricky father…[and]stole his bride from a distant cousin.” I was baffled by this glaring error and am not sure why it wasn’t caught, unless my suspicion that this work was rushed is correct.
Then there is the claim that the battle changed the world. That’s a fairly lofty declaration, and one that requires more proof than was presented (the argument is not a bad one, but again lack of detail hurt this book). Although Thermopylae influenced men throughout history in some way or another, without the key victories at Salamis and Plataea, the story of Thermopylae would ultimately be one of futility. I also didn’t like the attempts to compare Thermopylae and the events of 9/11 and 7/7. There is nothing to compare. The former was an open war where men chose to fight for freedom. The latter was a surprise attack where religious fanatics used innocent people to kill more innocent people with no warning. Persia wanted to rule the Hellenes, not destroy them.
I adore Paul Cartledge and don’t want to discourage people from getting his other memorable and important works on the Spartans. They’re well-researched and have some great pictures of Sparta and items found there. They also dive into fascinating detail that may help fledgling historical fiction authors get a grasp on the times and events that took place in the 480 BCE. So if you haven’t done so yet, I highly suggest buying the following works: The Spartans: The World of The Warrior-Heroes of Ancient Greece, Spartan Reflections, and The History of Spartan and Laconia.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Dieneces: Character Profile
"One of the Trachinians told him [that] such was the number of the barbarians, that when they shot forth their arrows the sun would be darkened by their multitude. Dieneces, not at all frightened at these words, but making light of the Median numbers, answered 'Our Trachinian friend brings us excellent tidings. If the Medes darken the sun, we shall have our fight in the shade.'"
--Herodotus
When I read that famous quote by Dieneces, the first thing I thought was: this guy is @#%* crazy! That's probably why when I read Gates of Fire by Steven Pressfield it didn't occur to me until near the end of the book that one of the main characters was the same guy (OK that and the fact the author didn't use the Latin spelling).
While everyone has portrayed Dieneces as a handsome prince or a noble and couragous soldier, my potrayal is totally different. To me, this guy is the slightly-crazed marine that storms the beach screaming, the soldier who obeys orders but has to be kept on a tight leash becauase he's a few cans short of a six pack!
In my mind Dieneces is just short of his middle years. He has thick black cords of hair bound by iron rings that arch down his back. He's muscled, but short and bow-legged and not pretty of face. He sports a necklace of human teeth, a collection from helots he's hunted down and killed over the years. He's a wise ass who loves to push every button of every one of his commanders, save the Agiad king whom he likes and respects. He's not exactly evil but he's amoral. His background is one of terrible abuse by his elders, which causes him to seek out death in battle because to him things can't get much worse. In his warped mind only one person every loved or respected him, but that person was exiled and he's been even more unstable ever since...
--Herodotus
When I read that famous quote by Dieneces, the first thing I thought was: this guy is @#%* crazy! That's probably why when I read Gates of Fire by Steven Pressfield it didn't occur to me until near the end of the book that one of the main characters was the same guy (OK that and the fact the author didn't use the Latin spelling).
While everyone has portrayed Dieneces as a handsome prince or a noble and couragous soldier, my potrayal is totally different. To me, this guy is the slightly-crazed marine that storms the beach screaming, the soldier who obeys orders but has to be kept on a tight leash becauase he's a few cans short of a six pack!
In my mind Dieneces is just short of his middle years. He has thick black cords of hair bound by iron rings that arch down his back. He's muscled, but short and bow-legged and not pretty of face. He sports a necklace of human teeth, a collection from helots he's hunted down and killed over the years. He's a wise ass who loves to push every button of every one of his commanders, save the Agiad king whom he likes and respects. He's not exactly evil but he's amoral. His background is one of terrible abuse by his elders, which causes him to seek out death in battle because to him things can't get much worse. In his warped mind only one person every loved or respected him, but that person was exiled and he's been even more unstable ever since...
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Sperthius Part 1
Part 1 of a new chapter from The Owl & The Eagle, told from the POV of Sperthius, a soldier known to his peers as The Boar of Sparta. The novel is progressing along nicely btw, with me taking notes and editing and adding and subtracting, etc. Hopefully one day an agent/editor/publisher will stumble upon this blog and think: Hey! We should ask this girl to send us a full transcript...
Parnon Mountains, Sparta
Summer, 481 BC(E)
The forest air was permeated with the sickly stench of opened bowels.
“You found him like this?” “Yes sir,” said the old soldier. "We were patrolling the Serpent Road and saw him.” “A boar,” the young soldier beside him insisted. "The animal, I mean." He was barely out of the barracks if a day, but he spoke with all the assurance of a seasoned war veteran. Sperthius did not have to see the face beneath the bronze helmet to know those features were smooth of scars. At near fifty the Boar of Sparta was older than either man and had seen more battles, as the puckered skin beneath his scarlet tunic and cloak could attest. Behind them a small cluster helots with their masters' heavy bronze shields strapped to their backs stood silently in the shadow of a large twisted oak, warily eyeing the underbrush around them for wild animals. “My Inspirer once hunted a beast just as big and twice as mean," said Orestes, the smooth-faced soldier. His dark hair was neatly divided into cords, and his bronze cuirass was undented and polished to a shine. "It almost did him in, but Aristodemus gouged its eyes out with his own hands.” Your Inspirer is full of shit, Sperthius thought as he frowned over the corpse. The day had barely begun, but the summer sun already threatened to be burning hot. Even with the shady wood above their heads they would have to move the body fast. Above, birds chirped and sang. They were purched in a dense cluster of fir and pine, hungry for the worms that had already begun to gnaw at the dead man's extremities. It seems cruel that birds should sing on a day like this. But Sperthius had long since learned that life was nothing if not cruel.
“Did you inspect the body at all?” The old solider hitched wide shoulders beneath his cloak, a ragtag cloth that like his knotted hair had more gray than red in it. Derkylidas was a veteran of a dozen or so campagins against Argos and Athens over the years, and blood and death were nothing new to him. His cuirass was dented and dull from use. “You're our commander. You should inspect it first.” It was the right answer, and so Sperthius merely nodded as he bent down to inspect the body.
He had been watching a foot race in the gymnasium when Orestes' helot came sprinting up, pushing his way through the crowd to tell him news of a fallen messenger found alone on the Serpant Road. "My master says it's not a Dweller," the boy announced too loudly, rubbing the back of his head where angry soldiers had cuffed him for trying to push them aside. Sperthius had snapped at him not to yell that out--there was no reason to draw attention to it--but it was too late. Just as he started to order one of his subordinates to take a small squad and investigate, Prince Cleombrotus turned around from where he was standing with the other generals and barked at Sperthius to see to it himself. "And don't go wasting the new recruits' time! They have too much training to do." One did not refuse a polemarch, and certainly not an Agiad prince, so Sperthius alone had followed the anxious helot out of Kynosoura, heading east then north, towards the Serpant Road.
The dead man was face down, sprinkled with fallen pine needles and splotches of speckled bird droppings. The short woolen cloak that fanned out over the narrow dirt path was so crusted with dried blood it was hard to tell what color it had been. The tunic beneath was by turns blackish red and gray, no doubt once a blinding white. Boots thin and travel stained but clearly yellow covered the now stiff feet. Oddly, the dead man wore some sort of hood the same color as his boots, the end tapering down his neck. Bulis had seen nothing like it. An outsider? That made no sense. Only Dwellers were allowed to travel outside of Laconia freely, and even then secret paths like the Serpant Road were not revealed to them. Only a Spartiate could know of it. Sperthius scratched at his gray-shot beard and tounged the gap where his two front teeth had been. If he was an outsider...no. Best not jump to conclusions.
Sperthius motioned to the cowering helots. "Get over here!" Timidly, two of the older slaves came foward. "Turn him over." One helot walked around the body while adjusting the dog-skinned cap on his shaggy brown head nervously, then bent down to support the back of the dead man’s neck while the other grabbed his feet. Together they turned him over as they would turn meat on a spit, the man's juices leaking onto to the ground along with loose pine needles. The stench was suddenly even more nauseating as the slaves set the corpse on its back; unbidden tears welled in Sperthius’s eyes. He blinked them away and forced himself to look. The dead man's gray and already sunken face was not familiar. The tear the boar made was terrible, slicing up through the man's bowels and towards his sternum, a bloody mess of blackish blue and red and yellow intestine. The helot with the cap retched into a cluster of nearby bushes while the other wailed. "Shut up or I'll shut you up!" Derkylidas snapped, making a threatening gesture with his spear. "And if you get any vomit on my shield Clubfoot, I'll kill you myself!" The helot shrank back, terrified. The Boar of Sparta ignored them as he studied the corpse.
Sperthius had been long in the war dance. He had seen various injuries, opened veins and deep gouges from spear points, ugly gashes from shield rims and nasty piercings from a sword's edge. But the heavy bronze armor Spartans wore to battle rarely failed to prevent the more mortal wounds. It took a skilled warrior to know where and how to strike, and none were as skilled as a Spartiate. Still, he had seen this kind of injury before in Laconia. Men grew careless when it came to the hunt, as his own Inspirer, an ugly brute called One Thumb had learned one muggy summer's day. A day like today. Wild boar attacks were more common in the Taygetos foothills, but some beasts still managed to hide in Gaia's green and golden hues here in the northern edge of the Parnon mountain chain. The fact that the messenger had not seen his attacker until it was too late was not surprising. His being on a secret road that was so narrow and winding it was more of a dirt track was. A herald coming from the North along a road only known by free men. Why?
Sperthius’ eyes moved to the messengers left hand, where something gleamed dully in the morning light. A blood-smeared dagger was still clutched tight in a fist. The sight of the dagger tickled his memory, but not becausae of One Thumb. He looks like Cleomenes the day I found him, he thought with a chill. That had been after they dragged the Mad King back from Sellasia, cursing and screaming and attacking people with his staff of office. The ephors had ordered him to be put in stocks to keep himself from hurting anyone, and ordered a handful of men to take turns watching him, including the Boar of Sparta. When Sperthius went to check on the king later that night he had found him --or rather of his disembowled body-- slumped on the floor of the Agiad mansion, the helot who had freed him dead beside the king. The memory of that gruesome sight was ten years old, yet seemed as fresh as yesterday. This messenger died a far less gruesome death, Sperthius reflected as he leaned forward to try and pry the knife out of the man's hand. And quicker. One Thumb had died quickly too, albeit in terrible pain. I have no bloodless memories. But then, few Spartans did.
When the body refused to yield the weapon Sperthius began to mutter under his breath. “You’re dead you stubborn bastard, let go!” Finally the corpse obeyed. Sperthius let the hand fall back onto the ground and held out the dagger for somebody to take. “Check that for a signet.” “Sir?” Orestes pointed. “There’s something there."
A square-shaped item was peeking beneath one stained fold of the cloak. Sperthius frowned and carefully pulled it out, holding it up to a ray of light that managed to break through the dense phalanx of pine needles above them. It was a block of wood, thickly coated in wax. Sperthius turned it over in his hands. There was nothing on it. No symbols or writing that he could see. He began to grow frustrated. As a soldier he had no patience for riddles. He flung the wood at the younger soldier. "Here!" Orestes managed to catch it in mid-air, moving fast despite his cuirass. It was obvious by the tilt of his head the youth was trying to face dowwind, though there was little wind this morning. Sperthius did not chide him for it; even he had to admit the smell was bad. "Did you find anything?" he asked the old soldier. "No, Sir. No marks on the dagger." "I see."
Sperthius flicked back his cloak and searched through the messenger's strange clothes, ignoring the blood and bits of gore on his hands and earth-colored tunic as he searched for something that would identify the man. Spartans wore wooden tags in battle to help identify the fallen, Athenians had shields that were specific to their families, Corinthians had signet rings, and messengers usually had the emblem of their city somewhere on their person. This man had nothing. Nothing except a blank tablet of wax and a dagger.
Sperthius sat back on his heels, at a total loss as to what it could mean. Bulis would understand. His Hearer had a talent for puzzling out these kinds of things. Again he tounged the fleshy bit of exposed gum where his upper two teeth had been. A lone messenger. No escorts. No gaurds. Nothing. Maybe he's not really a messenger?
Sperthius noticed the increasingly warm air just then, and the sickly sweet odor of death growing with it. Enough thinking for now. It's time to move. He turned his head to order the helots to take the body back with him to Kynosoura when he suddenly heard birds scatter into the sky above them. The three soldiers froze, as did the helots. Sperthius knew then he had been wrong about being alone. Something is coming.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Cimon's POV (O&E)
Here's another tidbit from The Owl & The Eagle. It involves Cimon's youth faction talking about Themistocles and Persia. It's told (obviously)from Cimon's PoV. Enjoy!
Athens, 481 BC(E)
“...Themistocles learned haggling, bargaining swindling, cajoling, begging and cheating from his merchant father. He’s the type that could judge the ware of a man’s cloak and sandles and charge him accordingly for a horse,” said Callias. “He is smart.”
Cimon was tired of the endless praise for Themistocles son of Neocles. “The merchant’s son is a fool,” he told them all. “Every time he kicks a relation of the Alcmaeonidae out of Athens it isolates him from the rest of the land-owners. They run to me now.” He took a sip of wine. He refused to drink the swill known as kykeon, or the rancid Rhodian wine so popular among the upstarts. He always preferred the rare vintages from Syracuse. And they will only get rarer if Gelon can’t hold out against Carthage. That was not his biggest concern though. “I have uncles in Thrace who claim Egyptian traders are bringing more than papyrus to them. There is word their sailors are being called east. Something is happening in Persia.”
“Something is always happening in Persia,” Aminias said dismissively. He was a dark, slender youth, dripping with jewels he claimed once belonged to Croesus and sold to him by a Lydian merchant in Phalerum. “No doubt another rebellion in Caria. Or Assyria. It has nothing to do with us.” Cimon favored him with a patient smile. “Perhaps you are right, but we should prepare just the same. If there is one thing the Board of Generals is right about it is a Persian invasion. Darius’ son is not like to forget Sardis or the insult to his father.” Cimon knew the taste of that draught all too well himself. My father counted on his fellow soldiers to help him and instead they spat on him and turned their backs.
Again Aminias inturrputed. "We should align ourselves with Sparta. You should have seen them when they came up after Marathon. I saw them looking down on Athens when my family took refuge in the countryside. They were terrifying. My cousin says the Persians were defeated at Marathon but not all of them. The rest ran when they saw the Spartans.” The claim was as dubious as the man's jewelry, yet Aminias had a point. Marathon men complained about the Spartan’s tardiness, yet Laconian armies had defeated and enslaved a polis twice their size with twice the men, rid themselves of Argos for years to come and brought Tegea to heel. Rumor has it their Agiad king is undefeated in battle; a lion of war. Could he convince the Attican elders to send an embassy to Sparta? That was something to consider.
Athens, 481 BC(E)
“...Themistocles learned haggling, bargaining swindling, cajoling, begging and cheating from his merchant father. He’s the type that could judge the ware of a man’s cloak and sandles and charge him accordingly for a horse,” said Callias. “He is smart.”
Cimon was tired of the endless praise for Themistocles son of Neocles. “The merchant’s son is a fool,” he told them all. “Every time he kicks a relation of the Alcmaeonidae out of Athens it isolates him from the rest of the land-owners. They run to me now.” He took a sip of wine. He refused to drink the swill known as kykeon, or the rancid Rhodian wine so popular among the upstarts. He always preferred the rare vintages from Syracuse. And they will only get rarer if Gelon can’t hold out against Carthage. That was not his biggest concern though. “I have uncles in Thrace who claim Egyptian traders are bringing more than papyrus to them. There is word their sailors are being called east. Something is happening in Persia.”
“Something is always happening in Persia,” Aminias said dismissively. He was a dark, slender youth, dripping with jewels he claimed once belonged to Croesus and sold to him by a Lydian merchant in Phalerum. “No doubt another rebellion in Caria. Or Assyria. It has nothing to do with us.” Cimon favored him with a patient smile. “Perhaps you are right, but we should prepare just the same. If there is one thing the Board of Generals is right about it is a Persian invasion. Darius’ son is not like to forget Sardis or the insult to his father.” Cimon knew the taste of that draught all too well himself. My father counted on his fellow soldiers to help him and instead they spat on him and turned their backs.
Again Aminias inturrputed. "We should align ourselves with Sparta. You should have seen them when they came up after Marathon. I saw them looking down on Athens when my family took refuge in the countryside. They were terrifying. My cousin says the Persians were defeated at Marathon but not all of them. The rest ran when they saw the Spartans.” The claim was as dubious as the man's jewelry, yet Aminias had a point. Marathon men complained about the Spartan’s tardiness, yet Laconian armies had defeated and enslaved a polis twice their size with twice the men, rid themselves of Argos for years to come and brought Tegea to heel. Rumor has it their Agiad king is undefeated in battle; a lion of war. Could he convince the Attican elders to send an embassy to Sparta? That was something to consider.
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