The Sibyl's Urn
Welcome to a mythological dream time in which nothing quite makes sense, yet everything has a logic of its own. Powerful goddesses linger behind curtains--one brushes her fingertips over your eyes, laden with an opiate like bee pollen on a summer's day. This is a fantasy, pieced together by late lamplight from author notes and studies of ancient Rome. Odd spirits keep knocking the inkwell over... More
Welcome to a mythological dream time in which nothing quite makes sense, yet everything has a logic of its own. Powerful goddesses linger behind the curtains--one has brushed her fingertips over your eyes,
laden with opiate like bee pollen on a summer's day...
You fly on the wings of Parnassus to a realm where empty Etruscans tombs are filled with sunlight. The Seven Hills of Rome are barren--filled with wildmen before the golden age. Heroes and gods, warriors and goddesses, clash on fields of battle and ideas.
This is a fantasy pieced together in late lamplight, from the author’s notes and studies of ancient Rome. Odd little spirits keep knocking the ink well over, or hiding the quill, or giggling as they shuffle the pages out of sequence. Try not to be scared, and by all means have fun.
The mystery of Amalthea--whom we meet, oddly, on an jet plane; everything in this book is a bit odd--is founded in myths far older than Rome herself. Flying back and forth across ancient Roman history, we are present at the founding of Rome, and we are there when the great spectacle finally draws to its conclusion thirteen centuries later. Beautiful Amalthea, and an ageless cricket she keeps in a cage, assist a mysterious professor who seeks long-ago truth, and leaves only his name as a legacy when the sands of time all too quickly blow away his footsteps.
This is an adventure in life and death, past and present, a study in etymologies and odd bits of learning tattered in a confusing night wind, stirred up by a capricious garden genius. We meet figures of myth and history--for example, a beautiful Vestal virgin imprisoned in a tower after being raped by the war god, up in the Alban Hills. She gave birth to twin sons swaddled by Fate in tragedy. One murdered his brother, so the killer founded Rome on a bloody note. The Great Forum of Rome itself is a defiled cemetery, from a time before there was a city. The Forum must be ritually cleansed, day after day, century upon century. Our silent candle flickers taller and brighter to its doom, as Rome survives her allotted time.
In a cave by the sea, a young priestess in white sits in an underground cavern. Overcome by vapors from deep in the earth, she scribbles cryptic messages on oak leaves. She is the Sibyl of Cumae. Her revelations are guarded by the Ten Men atop the Capitoline Hill in Rome. The Sibylline scrolls are kept under lock and key in the Temple of Jupiter Best and Greatest. These withered old pages are the city’s fortune foretold, a sacred road-map interpreted by sages as generations run like sand in an hour glass.
Two Egyptian scribes maintain a library, in a palace on the Esquiline Hill, where more of the Sibyl's scrolls are hidden. They are what our professor is after. Emperors and goddesses would kill to possess them. Our professor desires their knowledge. Amalthea guards their secrets. You need them as your only ticket home from a journey that is both wonder and nightmare.
Welcome to the quest for the Sibyl's Urn. You are not the first. You will not be the last. But will it be your last adventure? Turn the pages and find out. But always look over your shoulder, and have care...