Tyrant: King of the Bosporus
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
In a world at war, a brother and sister seek revenge...Another drama-drenched story in a truly epic historical series.
They were born in the middle of a battle, into a world at war. And from their first moments of life, twins Satyrus and Melitta were fighting for survival. Their father, a Greek mercenary, was cut down not long after they had taken their first breath; their Scythian mother was cruelly murdered when they were still children.
But Satyrus and Melitta are children no more. They have learned how to fight, how to love, how to plot and how to kill. Now it is time to leave their adopted home, the city of Alexandria, and the protection of Alexander the Great's former general, Ptolemy - and seek revenge.
Now it is time to go to war...
of Salmon is eight hundred stades,’ Neiron said. ‘One good day’s sail. If the weather holds – we’ll land by the Bay of Salmon, rest the night, and eat.’ ‘And the day after tomorrow, we’ll row up towards Pantecapaeum with full bellies,’ Satyrus said. His hands shook just saying the words. Draco looked back and forth between them. ‘Two days?’ he asked. ‘At the soonest,’ Satyrus said. Draco sat down on the helmsman’s bench and started to unbuckle his thorax. ‘I’ll just catch a nap, then,’ he
has lived another day, that he can drink, sit on the ground, enjoy the small pleasures that make life worth living even in the middle of the unbelievable tension of daily war – and then be summoned back to the risk of imminent death. It is a hard thing, and it is only the best who can rise to meet it. ‘Now for revenge!’ Thyrsis said, leaping to his feet as if he’d never shot his bow or ridden a stade all day. ‘One more ride,’ Scopasis shouted, and then they were all on their feet. Many changed
nodded. ‘I agree. I am writing to Diodorus to tell him to stay in the field – with Leon gone, we’ll need the income.’ Diodorus had the hippeis of Tanais – a mercenary cavalry unit that men called the Exiles, and he also had a taxeis of Macedonian foot raised from the prisoners taken after the Battle of Gaza, where Ptolemy had smashed Demetrios the Golden’s army. Melitta leaned over Sappho’s letter. ‘Once we have the support of the Sakje,’ she said, ‘we can have any port we want. Perhaps the
but made on the plains – and found that the wallet held two sets of treasures. She actually laughed aloud at the joy of it. There was a heavy fur hat, which she immediately put on her head, and a magnificent pair of embroidered mittens, made of caribou, lined in some fur that was soft and instantly warm on her fingers, and she almost cried. But she couldn’t stop. With her water bottles full and some food in her belly and mittens on her hands, she rode to the top of her ridge and looked north and
impossibly remote from her and yet painfully close. Coenus had built the temple of white marble with the spoils of his campaigns. She was on the Tanais, in country she knew. She just couldn’t make her mind work. She rode east all night, on the firm high ground above the river. She rode, not so much because she feared pursuit as because she feared to get off her horse. Finally, in the first faint grey light of not-dawn, she dismounted and squatted to piss, her back against a birch tree, her