None So Blind

Xenon

Description

The year is 499. The place is Gea - a largely ethnic, linguistic and cultural unity, though not a political one. Its history has been one of intermittent warfare between its fifteen independent states and with surrounding countries. However, for the last quarter of a century the inexorable rise of Troia has welded the states, now provinces, into a formidable Empire...Gea is largely unified under the Troian Empire, but the present Emperor is inept and ineffective. Dissatisfaction and disloyalty taint the political air and an aging swordmaster, Diomedes, finds himself having to unravel a plot against the Emperor, while struggling with his feelings for his friend's wife, whose life is in peril.

Sujets

• Fantasy (canción de Mariah Carey)
• Historical fantasy
• Ancient Greece
• War
• Fantasy

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 12 avril 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781838598808
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

Copyright © 2019 Xenon

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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ISBN 9781838598808

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For my beloved Jenny, that she might live again in these pages.
And for Gypsy, who set my pen to paper.
Contents
PREFACE

ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
FORTY-ONE
FORTY-TWO
FORTY-THREE
FORTY-FOUR
FORTY-FIVE
FORTY-SIX
FORTY-SEVEN
FORTY-EIGHT
FORTY-NINE
FIFTY
FIFTY-ONE
FIFTY-TWO
FIFTY-THREE
FIFTY-FOUR
FIFTY-FIVE
FIFTY-SIX
FIFTY-SEVEN
FIFTY-EIGHT
FIFTY-NINE
SIXTY
SIXTY-ONE
SIXTY-TWO
SIXTY-THREE
SIXTY-FOUR
SIXTY-FIVE
SIXTY-SIX
SIXTY-SEVEN
SIXTY-EIGHT
SIXTY-NINE
SEVENTY
SEVENTY-ONE
SEVENTY-TWO
SEVENTY-THREE
SEVENTY-FOUR
SEVENTY-FIVE

GLOSSARY
MAJOR CHARACTERS
MINOR CHARACTERS
MEASUREMENT
RANKS IN THE GEAN ARMY
MAP OF THE PROVINCES OF GEA
MAP OF THE SEA OF GRASS
THE CHRONICLES OF GEA
PREFACE
N one So Blind is the first in a series of ten novels that cover a period of about seventy-five years. Each stands alone, though with references to events in earlier books, and some characters appear in more than one.
The series is set in an imaginary world based loosely on a Classical Greek milieu, though transported to a northern temperate zone and with women playing a much more independent role than in Classical antiquity. The military side is largely based on Alexandrian and Macedonian Successor models.
The land of Gea is largely an ethnic, linguistic and cultural unity, though not a political one. Its history has been one of intermittent warfare between its fifteen independent states and with the surrounding countries. However, for the last quarter of a century, the inexorable rise of Troia has welded the states, now provinces, into a formidable empire. Insurrection, civil wars and foreign conflicts nevertheless remain common.
None So Blind is set in the year 499, when the new emperor, Aristogeiton, is proving a weak and vacillating leader.
The Geans are culturally and militarily advanced. Their strength is in the hoplite, a heavily armoured, close order infantryman, fighting in a disciplined line with shield and long thrusting spear.
Cavalry is relatively unimportant, generally used for scouting or pursuit of a defeated enemy.
Light javelin armed infantry, called peltastes, and missile troops, or psiloi, with bow and sling, play a supporting role.
The army has a complex command structure, based on ektatoi, equivalent to modern non-commissioned officers, of whom the most important is the feared hyperetes, best regarded as a sergeant-major. Above the ektatoi are line officers of various ranks, culminating in strategoi or generals.
Many cultural and military terms are left unexplained, as the context should suggest the basic meaning, and more is unnecessary.
At the end of the book, information can be found under the following headings:

• Glossary
• Major characters
• Minor characters
• Measurement
• Ranks in the Gean Army
• Map of the Provinces of Gea
• Map of the Sea of Grass

Other maps are available at http://www.harpalycus.com .

• The Chronicles of Gea



The small scribe laid down his reed pen with his usual meticulous care, then knuckled his eyes savagely. It was tiring work, especially in the ever-shifting light of two torches. He stretched and kneaded his gnarled and ink-stained fingers with his other hand, before picking up his pen again. He would not sleep yet. He had a tale to tell.
ONE
17th day of Metageitrion. Year 499. Gla.
Diomedes canted his heavy aspis shield back, with the rim on his shoulder so that it bore most of the weight, and took a firm grip of his lead-weighted wooden practice sword. He moved slowly around the sandy arena, trying to manoeuvre Gelon into facing the late afternoon sun.
A spatter of household troops had gathered on the edges of the sparring ground to watch their swordmaster. No-one was taking bets on the outcome. Gelon was a big man. Very big, and with strength to match. Moreover, he was surprisingly fast for his size. But they knew Diomedes.
Gelon crouched low behind his battered shield, the sigil of a cockerel almost obliterated by countless blows. He wore a Korinthian helmet, and all that could be seen of him were malevolent eyes glittering behind the narrow slits.
A buffet of shields, and both drew back. The bigger man made a half-hearted feint, which Diomedes simply ignored, but then Gelon tried a full-blooded rush, relying on brute strength. Diomedes, spare of frame but stronger than he looked, deflected him neatly with an angled shield, his sword licking out like a snake’s tongue. Gelon just managed to twist out of the way before hastily retiring.
There was silence as they cautiously circled one another, until a sharp voice shattered it. ‘Swordmaster!’
Diomedes’ shield dropped slightly, and he glanced to his right, whence the call had come. Gelon instantly saw his chance, and his sword whirled out towards his opponent’s exposed head. Exactly as anticipated. The swordmaster had already thrust his aspis upwards, catching hand and sword and stretching them up with the momentum. A heartbeat later, he had dropped to one knee and swept his sword round to hammer with numbing force against the exposed greaved leg.
‘Ouch,’ cried Gelon, which, considering the force of the blow, was commendably restrained of him, and collapsed in a tumble of bronze.
Diomedes pushed his sword into the sand, slid off his shield, rested it against his hip, and gratefully removed his helmet and leather skull cap. He scrubbed his hand through his short, damp hair.
‘Bastard,’ said Gelon, thrusting his aspis from him and sitting up, glowering. ‘You arranged that.’
‘Sorry,’ said Diomedes as he unlaced his cuirass. ‘Not at all. But the instant I heard it, I knew what you’d do if I offered the bait. Never refuse an opportunity.’ He gestured to one of the watching hoplites to take his equipment and turned to the young man who had called out. ‘You should know better, Patroclus,’ he said mildly.
‘I beg your pardon, Swordmaster.’ Patroclus’s tone was that of a man who could not care less. ‘My Lord Miltiades wishes a word with you at once.’
Diomedes nodded. He glanced down at Gelon, who was gingerly removing his bronze greave to reveal an already spreading bruise. ‘Better get some cold water on that,’ he said and strode off across the courtyard towards the citadel.
The spectators drifted away as Gelon hauled his big frame to his feet. He pulled his helmet off, revealing long, oiled, red hair caught back in a ponytail. He glared after Diomedes with real venom. ‘Bastard,’ he said again.
TWO
Miltiades was sitting at his work table reading a scroll, when Diomedes opened the door. To one side, his secretary, Adrastus, was busily copying something from a wax tablet.
Miltiades was the holder of Gla, a rugged fortress that, as one of the Five Fetters of the Empire, blocked the southeastern approaches to Gea, holding the border against the restless barbarian tribes that ranged the lawless lands beyond. Standing near the Great East Road that ran from Ilios to Leuctra, it thrust out of the endless, undulating grasslands of the Vale of Tempe like a fist bursting from dark chasms below.
Generally affable and well liked, despite an explosive temper, Miltiades was a tall, handsome man with a fine head of obsidian-black hair. He continued to read as Diomedes entered, vaguely gesturing towards the wine amphora. The swordmaster gratefully poured himself a third of a kylix and topped it up with spring water. It was hot work sparring under a blazing late summer sun.
‘Some water?’ he asked.
Miltiades had stopped drinking wine several moontides ago as it gave him fire in the gut. The holder shook his head absentmindedly. Diomedes stood and waited patiently, sipping his drink.
Eventually, Miltiades sighed and put down the scroll. ‘Sorry, Dio. Have a seat.’
Di