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The Son of Julius Caesar - ebook
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Data wydania:
12 lipca 2022
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The Son of Julius Caesar - ebook
These Sphinx Emerald stories are a veritable Outline of History. „The Son of Julius Caesar” is the fifth one from the master story tell H. Bedford-Jones! Many of his works were historical fiction/adventures, about knights, pirates, buccaneers, vikings, musketeers, revolutionaries, legionnaires, soldiers, sailors, and assorted adventurers. Here the tragic young Caesarion dominates the scene.
| Kategoria: | Suspense |
| Język: | Angielski |
| Zabezpieczenie: |
Watermark
|
| ISBN: | 978-83-8292-535-7 |
| Rozmiar pliku: | 2,6 MB |
FRAGMENT KSIĄŻKI
The Son of Julius Caesar
_These Sphinx Emerald stories are a veritable Outline of History.
Here the tragic young Caesarion dominates the scene._
THE finest house in Berenice–not so very fine, at that–stood on the sands above the harbor, looking out to sea: the Red Sea, blistering hot in this midsummer. Behind the town the desert mountains reached back to mid-Egypt. The caravan trail came from Coptos on the Nile here to Berenice, the route of all commerce between Egypt and the Far East. Here in the shallow harbor of Berenice ships were crowded, awaiting the July change of monsoon. Then for six months the winds would blow eastward, the merchant traders coursing before it to far India, whence they would return when the monsoon changed again and blew westward for another six months.
The house was stocked with luxuries for the boy, his tutors and his guards, who stayed here waiting for the ships to move. The tutor Rhodon was a pleasant, amiable weakling of forty-five, a Greek; the soldiers who guarded the house had small respect for him. These soldiers were Romans, men who had served Marc Antony; and they were blindly devoted to the boy. He was seventeen; he had passed the ceremonies of manhood, and had been crowned as co- ruler of Egypt with his mother Cleopatra; but to these hardened legionaries, he was “the boy.” When they saw him pass, they stiffly saluted, and the murmured Roman words came to their lips:
“Son of the god!”
For Julius Caesar had been deified and was worshiped as a god. This boy was like him in every way. He was, in fact Caesar, the son of Julius Caesar, though he was usually known by the affectionate diminutive of the name, Caesarion.
Yet, though Caesarion was son of the divine Julius, and King of Egypt, with many another shadowy title, it was the tutor Rhodon who was nominally in command here. Cleopatra and Antony were in Alexandria, besieged by the vindictive and ambitious Octavian; in desperation Cleopatra had sent her son here, with immense treasures, to join the fleet for India, and to seek refuge in Hindustan, where there were no ambitious Romans. They had come. The ships were ready, with the treasure on board–but until the monsoon broke, could not move...
“We never spoke of this in Alexandria, so I don’t understand it very well,” said Caesarion. He and Rhodon sat in the patio of the house, nominally reading Homer. “You say that Octavian is the nephew and the son of my father?”
“Your father adopted him in the Roman fashion, yes,” said Rhodon, “but acknowledged you as his son before he died. So Antony is dead! Poor Antony–he was a noble fellow in his day.”
A courier had come that morning with the dread news from Alexandria.
“Will Octavian harm my mother?” Caesarion asked. “She always said he was a vicious beast. They called him ‘the Executioner’ in Rome.”
“No, he’ll not harm her; she’s perfectly safe.” Rhodon stretched leisurely. “He’s not a bad sort, really. He’s Caesar now, of course.”
“But I’m Caesar!”
This is a free sample. Please purchase full version of the book to continue.
_These Sphinx Emerald stories are a veritable Outline of History.
Here the tragic young Caesarion dominates the scene._
THE finest house in Berenice–not so very fine, at that–stood on the sands above the harbor, looking out to sea: the Red Sea, blistering hot in this midsummer. Behind the town the desert mountains reached back to mid-Egypt. The caravan trail came from Coptos on the Nile here to Berenice, the route of all commerce between Egypt and the Far East. Here in the shallow harbor of Berenice ships were crowded, awaiting the July change of monsoon. Then for six months the winds would blow eastward, the merchant traders coursing before it to far India, whence they would return when the monsoon changed again and blew westward for another six months.
The house was stocked with luxuries for the boy, his tutors and his guards, who stayed here waiting for the ships to move. The tutor Rhodon was a pleasant, amiable weakling of forty-five, a Greek; the soldiers who guarded the house had small respect for him. These soldiers were Romans, men who had served Marc Antony; and they were blindly devoted to the boy. He was seventeen; he had passed the ceremonies of manhood, and had been crowned as co- ruler of Egypt with his mother Cleopatra; but to these hardened legionaries, he was “the boy.” When they saw him pass, they stiffly saluted, and the murmured Roman words came to their lips:
“Son of the god!”
For Julius Caesar had been deified and was worshiped as a god. This boy was like him in every way. He was, in fact Caesar, the son of Julius Caesar, though he was usually known by the affectionate diminutive of the name, Caesarion.
Yet, though Caesarion was son of the divine Julius, and King of Egypt, with many another shadowy title, it was the tutor Rhodon who was nominally in command here. Cleopatra and Antony were in Alexandria, besieged by the vindictive and ambitious Octavian; in desperation Cleopatra had sent her son here, with immense treasures, to join the fleet for India, and to seek refuge in Hindustan, where there were no ambitious Romans. They had come. The ships were ready, with the treasure on board–but until the monsoon broke, could not move...
“We never spoke of this in Alexandria, so I don’t understand it very well,” said Caesarion. He and Rhodon sat in the patio of the house, nominally reading Homer. “You say that Octavian is the nephew and the son of my father?”
“Your father adopted him in the Roman fashion, yes,” said Rhodon, “but acknowledged you as his son before he died. So Antony is dead! Poor Antony–he was a noble fellow in his day.”
A courier had come that morning with the dread news from Alexandria.
“Will Octavian harm my mother?” Caesarion asked. “She always said he was a vicious beast. They called him ‘the Executioner’ in Rome.”
“No, he’ll not harm her; she’s perfectly safe.” Rhodon stretched leisurely. “He’s not a bad sort, really. He’s Caesar now, of course.”
“But I’m Caesar!”
This is a free sample. Please purchase full version of the book to continue.
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