The Tarpeian Rock, Volume 7, 2009 by Arx Publishing

INTRODUCTION: THE OBAMA NATION

The Obama Nation

Anyone who voted for Obama thinking he was pro-life is eating a big crow sandwich now. Among his first acts as presiPaolo A. Belzoni dent was a repeal of the Mexico City policy which forbade US taxpayer dollars from There’s a word for government-imposed funding abortions in poor countries. Worse, Obama supports FOCA, the “mandatory volunteerism”—serfdom. I don’t ill-named Freedom of Choice Act. If this think many young people voted for that when travesty becomes law, every hard-fought they pulled the lever for Obama. restriction on abortion would be swept away—including the right of parents to be This past November, the major news informed when their minor child attempts outlets triumphantly reported that Barack to procure an abortion and the right of Obama’s victory in the presidential elec- doctors not to perform them. Abortion has claimed the lives of nearly tions was due in no small part to the “youth vote”. The Chronicle of Higher Education re- 50 million “youth voters” since 1973. One ported that over 68% of voters age 18-29 would think that outlawing this hideous practice would be a major priority for the cast their ballots for Obama. For many outside that age bracket, this fortunate survivors. Finally, there’s the issue of the recently was seen as a disheartening turn of events. Ridiculous optimist that I am, however, I passed GIVE Act, part of which authorizes the federal government to determine the choose to see the glass as 32% full. mandatory service requireEven the more honest Obama supporters feasibility of a “mandatory will openly admit that their candidate was ment for all able young people.” There’s a word for government-imposed the recipient of the most massive deluge of media-driven idol worship in American “mandatory volunteerism”—serfdom. I history. Yet, despite this, millions of young don’t think many young people voted for Americans were able to slice through the that when they pulled the lever for Obama. An excellent take on Obama’s “youth serhype and vote against Obama. Of course, within the first few months vice corps” was filmed by students at John of his administration, Barack Obama has Paul the Great University entitled “Who do turned out to be every bit as divisive and you serve?” I encourage you to check it out retrograde as his critics warned he would on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/ be. His solution to every problem we face watch?v=lQ-0no8Y30c But what do I know? I’m an old guy. is not just big government, but colossal government. What those young voters who Pretty soon, most of these issues won’t came out so strongly for Obama don’t yet even affect me directly anymore. I’ll be too realize is that the bill for the trillions upon old to worry about procreating. I’ll be coltrillions of dollars in government spending lecting government entitlements, while all that Obama has already proposed will fall those Obama-voting youth will be paying squarely upon them. They effectively voted massive taxes required to keep said programs afloat. And I’ll be too decrepit to be themselves a gigantic promissory note. On the issue of life, Obama has already drafted into some government-run youth been a catastrophe. During the campaign, slavery program. If youth voters want real change, you’re he famously pronounced that he wouldn’t want to see his daughters “punished with not going to get it voting for a guy who has a baby” and declared that the question of repackaged failed socialist ideas from the when human life begins was “above his pay mid-20th century and slapped his own pergrade.” Yet his supporters piously assured sonality cult seal of approval on them. And a politician who gets 100% ratings us that Obama cared deeply about the unborn and that his policies would actually from the abortion industry isn’t peddling hope, for without life, there is no hope. reduce the numbers of abortions.

Contents Essay The Obama Nation by Paolo A. Belzoni ........................................ Inside front cover Short Stories Contest Winner—We We Must Follow by Anna Jakubiec ................................................... 2 Historical Fiction—The Trap by Nathan Sadasivan ...................................................... 8 Fantasy—The The Curse of Borello, Part VII by Robert F. Kauffmann. ............................. 13

Humor Food Cena by Katy Sohler........................................................................................ 7 Poetry They Know Not What They Do by Gina M. Foster ............................................... 6 Great Books for Insatiable Readers Historical Fiction ................................................................................................ 18 High Fantasy/Science Fiction .............................................................................. 25 History ............................................................................................................... 27 Order Form......................................................................................................... 28 Cover Illustration: “Meher”—a sculpture by Khoren Der Harootian symbolizing the invincible faith of Armenia, the first nation to embrace Christianity. Location: Philadelphia, PA. Photo taken and enhanced by Anthony P. Schiavo, Jr.

The Tarpeian Rock is a free periodical published annually by Arx Publishing, LLC, P.O. Box 1333, Merchantville, NJ 08109. • Tel. (856) 486-1310 • Fax: (856) 665-0170 For a complete listing of books offered by Arx Publishing or to place an order, please visit our web site: www.arxpub.com To request a back issue of the 2003 through 2008 issues, send $2.00 per issue to Arx Publishing at the above address. All editorial, artistic, submissions, or quality concerns should be directed to Claudio R. Salvucci at the above address. All production and distribution questions should be directed to Tony Schiavo at the above address. Unless otherwise noted below, all material is copyright © 2009 Arx Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, transmitted or otherwise disseminated in any form without prior written permission from Arx Publishing, LLC. All opinions expressed in The Tarpeian Rock represent those of the authors of the articles in question and not necessarily those of the management and members of Arx Publishing, LLC. They Know Not What They Do is copyright © 2009 Gina M. Foster. All rights reserved. We Must Follow is copyright © 2009 Anna Jakubiec. All rights reserved. The Curse of Borello is copyright © 2009 Robert F. Kauffmann. All rights reserved. For further information, contact the author directly at 2401 Arden Road, Cinnaminson, NJ 08077 • mathart63@gmail.com Food Cena is copyright © 2009 Katy Sohler. All rights reserved.

Visit our website: http://www.arxpub.com/TarpeianRock.html

CONTEST WINNER: WE MUST FOLLOW

Young Writers Short Story Contest In 2008, we again held our short story contest for youth ages 12-18. For this year’s contest, entrants were supplied with an illustration and required to submit a tale of 2,500 words or less that in some way incorporated or described the image. As usual, we received an abundance of entries, but one stood out among all the others and it was this story we chose to receive the $50 prize. We are pleased to present the winning entry below. To the other entrants—thank you for entering and we hope that you will continue to refine your God-given talents. We are also happy to include a story in this issue of the Tarpeian Rock by a past winner of the short story contest—Nathan Sadasivan. After Nathan won the contest, he submitted a novel for possible publication. Nathan’s novel, Crown of the World, will be published in three parts by Arx Publishing. The first book of the trilogy, Knight of the Temple, is due to publish in June of 2009. We'll be sponsoring another contest in 2009, so please check our website periodically for details: http://www.arxpub.com/TarpeianRock.html. If you'd like to receive an email notice when the rules for the 2008 contest are posted, please email: TRSample@arxpub.com

WIN

NER

...we must follow. by Anna Jakubiec

circled beneath the water—thoughtful, waiting. Though what I was waiting for was hard to tell. What I was thinking about was less vague, though perhaps not less complicated. It was a dreary day, when the water felt a little slimier, the sun seemed a little darker, and the tower-city of Lithrho looked a little redder. I hated those days. It wasn’t that the water’s slimy feeling annoyed me so much—though I didn’t like the way my hair stuck to my scalp afterwards. It also wasn’t that I loved sunlight that much, though I’d never been like the other sea nymphs, who shunned it. It also wasn’t that I hated the color red—or Lithrho, for that matter. Though seeing that city carved of red rock sometimes made my eyes hurt. It wasn’t

Illustration by Becca Schpok

even that rain usually followed this state of things. (I happened to love rain.) I just disliked how empty Lithrho looked. The people of Lithrho had been human. Usually when sea nymphs mention humans, you can reckon that they aren’t going to say much good. It’s not that humans themselves are so bad. But the things they do—intentionally or inadvertently— drives us up the waves. So it shouldn’t have bothered me too much that they left. But it did. If the humans were here today, I thought, they would have lit up the windows of Lithrho to drive away the shadows that cover the sun. They would have rung bells, played flutes, and danced in the city corners to tell the gathering clouds that no dampening of the ground would dampen their spirits. I used to like listening to the sound of their music and the beauty of their lights. But now…they were gone. Treading water, I thought back to the day the humans left. It had been abrupt, and I still hadn’t been able to figure out a clear reason for it. That morning had been beautiful, unlike this one. The sun had been shining brightly, but not in the way that drives sea nymphs into the deeps for fear of drying out our scales. The waves had been neither too high, nor too still. (I’d never liked it when the sea is too calm. It bored me.) Things had seemed just fine in Lithrho. But then, I’m not human. They see things differently than we do. But maybe they didn’t want to go. Maybe there had been no choice in the matter. It could have been out of their hands. Though it didn’t seem that way to me. Because if that had been the case, it would have stood to reason if they had gone with weeping and sighing. But they had gone smiling, excited. Anticipation had lit their eyes. Of course, I had seen some hesitation, even fear—but didn’t everyone feel a bit of that when leaving home? At first I had thought the Lithrho-dwellers were coming back. True, it had seemed strange that everyone in the city should leave at once, but I didn’t think much of it. I knew enough about humans to guess

ANNA JAKUBIEC

that they wouldn’t leave for good without weeks of preparation beforehand; and certainly nothing strange had seemed to happen before they had left. But they hadn’t come back. Not yet, I thought, still clinging to the slight hope that they would. But the majority was against me. Most thought, and hoped, Not ever. (I’ve said already that most sea nymphs dislike humans.) Though perhaps the fact they that weren’t back wasn’t intentional either. Maybe something had prevented their return that they hadn’t foreseen. The oncoming clouds drawing over the sun brought me back to the present. I dove beneath the water as the clouds blew away again. It was a good thing I was interrupted, because a continuation of those thoughts might have caused me to be sentimental. The humans had had bad qualities, as well, and I mustn’t forget those! A shadow was cast over me. Looking upward, I could see the outline of a creature in the water. It was shaped somewhat like a sea-star. Sea turtle! I thought excitedly. I liked turtles. They were friendly sorts of creatures. And this one was simply gargantuan, and probably very old. I thought with eagerness of the stories it might be able to tell me. As I neared the surface, I realized I knew this turtle. Her name was Marla, and she was absolutely ancient. I recognized her by the deep, craggy lines on her underbelly that spelled out a sort of R-shape. I had always wondered where she got those markings—whether they had been given to her, or if she had been born with them. But I hadn’t been able to get her to tell me. Marla never talked to anyone, in my experience. She was quite cantankerous. But rumor had it that she had helped carry the Lithrho-dwellers away from their tower, and since I had already been thinking about their departure that day, I decided to try to strike a conversation with her one more time. Maybe I could find out more. I put my head above water… And froze. Marla’s huge beak-like head was tethered. And on her teardrop-shaped back were humans.

CONTEST WINNER: WE MUST FOLLOW

Have the Lithrho-dwellers returned? I thought, flooded with a mixture of feelings. It was short-lived. They could have possibly been Lithrhodwellers, but there were only three. And they were fairly young. The oldest was approximately twenty; twenty-two at the most. There was one male and two females. The man, who had brown hair strung up in a ponytail, stood in the front with a telescope pointed at Lithrho. “There it is!” cried one of the girls, pointing excitedly. She also had a ponytail, but blonde. The other female, who had black hair bound by a wide headband, smiled nervously. Hmm, explorers… I thought. I could have some fun with them. Suddenly the day seemed a little brighter, if in a slightly malevolent way. While formulating a plot that might involve anything in the realm of mischief from scary noises to rather large crabs, I continued listening to their conversation. “Aren’t you excited, Harper?” asked the blonde. The one called Harper made a face. “Yes, very. Just as long as we don’t drown. Or get eaten. Or run out of food. Or get stranded. I’m ecstatic, Piper.” Piper laughed and called the male. “Chandler, help me here. Convince your sister that nothing out of the ordinary is going to happen to us.” Chandler turned around, smiling. “Oh, no, nothing extraordinary. Except the fact that we’ve found a large red tower sticking up out of nowhere, in the middle of the ocean. That’s perfectly ordinary, of course…for brave souls like us! Right, Harper?” Harper just groaned, shaking her dark head. Harper, Piper, and Chandler. What odd names, I thought. Though they probably would have thought my name, Lasoosoi, odd as well. It began raining, rapidly thickening from a light, sprinkle to a steady curtain. Harper loudly voiced her complaints, and even Piper began to pout.

“How long until we’re out of this beastly drizzle?” Piper cried. Chandler pushed his now sopping hair off his forehead. “Come on, girls! Buck up!” he said cheerfully. “It’s an adventure! Don’t you feel excitement pounding through your veins?” “I feel something pounding through my veins, but it isn’t excitement,” growled Harper crossly, baring her teeth in a snarl. “It’s more like a wish to kill you.” Chandler, ignoring his sister, went on. “Can’t you barely wait to step foot on undiscovered soil? Doesn’t this very rain make you more determined to reach our goal?” “No,” said the two girls in unison. “You’re both crazy,” said Chandler, shrugging. Harper was quite indignant at this. “I’m crazy?! You convinced me to come with all that nonsense about new horizons! But now it seems that the horizon gets worse the closer we get!” Chandler sighed. “Well, I still think the horizon is worth pursuing. You, Piper?” he asked hopefully, looking to his friend for support (which was unlikely, in my opinion). Piper just scowled, turning her back on him with crossed arms. I paddled along behind Marla, buffeted by the waves that were growing ever choppier. I wondered what this exchange said about the humans’ individual characters. I already felt I liked Chandler best. Then, Listen to yourself, Lasoosoi! I scolded myself. Making pets out of the humans, indeed. How silly of you. When Marla landed on the sandy shore near the tower, I hung back in the water, debating what to do next. We sea nymphs have legs. Therefore, we can walk on land, if we wish. But we are more awkward on dry ground, being unsuited to it. Our sensitive skin is easily chafed and dried by air. But with the persistent rainfall, I felt safer from the danger of my slick, wet skin becoming “wind-bruised”, as we call it. My real concern in following Chandler, Harper, and Piper into Lithrho was fear of

discovery. If I were to trail behind them, it couldn’t be too closely, or they might spot me. I didn’t want to know what might happen if they did. But, on the other hand, if I got too far behind, I could get lost. I had never been inside Lithrho before—and I might not have gone now if it weren’t something beyond mere curiosity driving me, something that was slowly overcoming my fears. Something else occurred to me. With humans, the trip might be more productive than any I could have taken alone. Sea nymphs have been granted the gift of speaking and understanding tongues, but we are illiterate. We have no need to write down our own language, so why bother with others? Some clues the Lithrho-dwellers might have left could be in writing—I couldn’t read them, but likely the three humans could. With this in mind and rain slapping my head, I finally waded through the shallows and sprinted clumsily across the wet sand after the humans, who had entered the tower through a wide red arch. I followed. Without the familiar support of the sea around me, I felt weighed down and weary. I squirmed, as though to shake away the heaviness. I just haven’t got my land-legs yet, I told myself. Though inside the tower, I was not out of the rain; the streets of Lithrho were roofless and open, though the houses themselves were sheltered. I faced about five different paths. I paused and listened to see where the three companions had gone. Then I noticed a strand of twine tied to a post on the far left road. It began winding down the street, out of sight. That’s smart of them, I thought. Now they won’t get lost, and neither will I. I followed the humans up spires and down hallways. It continued to rain. Finally, their twine ran out. Hiding behind an empty barrel, I heard their conversation. “Can we explore this house before we turn back?” Chandler said, pointing to large-sized house before them. Harper started to say no, but Piper said, “Anything to get out of the rain.”

ANNA JAKUBIEC

While they went in the front, I circled around back and went in that way, through a window. The room was surprisingly fine, with red-tiled floors and elegant carvings. I could imagine tapestries on the bare walls, desks and bookshelves in the corners, and a fire blazing in the hearth. (Of course, being a sea nymph I wasn’t familiar with any of these things, but I knew what they were due to folklore and such.) I hid in a closet, but found myself in a mess of papers. I shoved them out onto the floor, and tried to be silent as the humans came in. I peeked through a crack in the door. “This is the last roo—what in the world?” Chandler broke off as he stared at the papers scattered across the floor. “What do they say?” cried Harper, sounding genuinely excited for the first time. “Wait, let me see,” said Piper, picking up a scroll and unrolling it. “Help me, Chandler—this handwriting is atrocious.” “Then I’m the best one for the job,” said Harper, taking it from Piper’s hands. “After all,” she said, jabbing a thumb in her brother’s direction, “I’ve had to read his writing all my life.” The three sat cross-legged on the floor, and Harper began to read- haltingly at first, but with greater certainty as she got used to the writing. I listened eagerly. Maybe now I would find out why the Lithrhodwellers had left. Harper read: July 11. The prophet Abraam had a revelation from the I AM a week ago. He told us to leave our city Lithrho, to go where he directs. He has promised to lead and guide us if we will trust Him. We received this news with trepidation. Leave Lithrho? Pack up our goods, our wives and children, and simply leave, with no knowledge of where we are going? Abraam assured us that the I AM will bless us if we leave. “He will make us a great nation, set apart for His pleasure,” the prophet said. With fear and excitement, we bundled up our things and stripped our houses

CONTEST WINNER: WE MUST FOLLOW

bare. We did not know how we were to leave our tower. But the I AM has provided. He sent several giant sea turtles to carry us. Surely the I AM is great and mighty! We must leave now. I am leaving this scroll in the city, so that those who come after will look and know what the I AM has commanded and how wonderful He is. We have prayed for His guidance, and are now confident that He will give it, if we trust and obey Him. We still face our journey with some fear—but the I AM had promised to protect us. And where He calls us to go, we must follow. Peace be with you all. —Jacop ben Rewen Harper stopped. I realized the scroll had ended, and for some reason, I was sorry. I didn’t hear what the humans said to each other after that. Eventually they left, probably to explore the rest of the tower. But I stayed in the closet, thinking. Who was this God, that His people would follow Him to the unknown? Who was this Great One, that the sea turtles obeyed Him? Was He real? Was He good? Was He just for humans, or for nymphs as well? Was there a way to find Him? The questions swirled in my mind, refusing to settle. I walked out of the building and sat in the door opening in the rain, thinking about this I AM. Thinking about His wonders. Thinking about the words, “Where He calls us to go, we must follow.” Anna Jakubiec is 13 years old and resides in Michigan.

They Know Not What They Do by Gina M. Foster Her bells sound their sweet song afar. It is mother’s call — gathering the young and old, the rich and poor, the living and the dead in faith. Voices ring while silver pipes swell, the King now enters through the gates. Incensed prayers swirl in the stained light, some filled with love while others fade, weighted by human ignorance. Their King is handed over now. Will they cherish him with love or beat and bruise him without regard? Into pockets and purses or broken into pieces, secretly stashed then sold like long ago? Oh Father forgive them, for they know not what they do! Forgiveness extends from His merciful heart, as tears combine with the blood most precious. Lovingly He waits for them, but they persist, they forget, they turn to the street; running while the bells cry out in vain. Blinded by life, they cast off garments of white and wander in darkness until they are called to be saints once again. Gina M. Foster is 22 year-old college student from Pennsauken, New Jersey.

FOOD CENA

Food Cena

KATY SOHLER

by Katy Sohler FOR THIS!!!

We escaped seven super markets and three restaurants . . .

Lobsta Buck

These predators are always trying to eat us. It We shouldn’t isn’t fair! let them push us around. It’s time we did something about it!

Hey look! Free buffet!

r y f o t Pra b s, n o cra n t h e m o

WE SHOULD HAVE A PROTEST !

! is h le F t dd ’t e a ! u C on m D he t

Ke e p y o o f f my u r j aws c laws !

HISTORICAL FICTION: THE TRAP

The

Trap by Nathan Sadasivan With the miraculous success of the First Crusade, all said that the heroic tales of old had come to life again. In its early years, the Kingdom of Jerusalem was peopled by legendary knights—men with names like Bohemond and Tancred, Baldwin and Godfrey de Bouillon. But in its waning years, Outremer—the Land Beyond the Sea—was hard-pressed by foreign enemies and torn by internicene strife. Corruption had taken hold and the ideals of chivalry were slowly fading. The following is an excerpt from Crown of the World—Book I: Knight of the Temple (due June 2009, Arx Publishing), a new novel set in the later years of the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem. In this passage, the Templar knight Godfrey becomes better acquainted with Andronicus Comnenus, an enigmatic Byzantine nobleman with more than a few tricks up his sleeve.

odfrey started to object when Andronicus Comnenus told him that he and Jacques would be sitting beside him at the High Table at Reynald’s de Chatillon’s banquet, but he quickly realized that such objections would be useless. So it was that he and Jacques found themselves looking out over the hall, sitting in places of honor in a banquet attended

by all the lords of Antioch. Godfrey’s mouth watered as the servants brought out platters of food: roasted boar and fowl, steaming loaves of bread, fruits that could only be found here in the east, tubs of beer from the west and wine from the south. Godfrey was seated with Andronicus Comnenus on his right and Jacques on his left. To Andronicus Comnenus’s right was a lady, a few years older than Godfrey himself, whom the Greek introduced as Lady Phillipa, sister to Prince Bohemund. Phillipa was dressed all in white, with her long golden hair rippling down past her shoulders. She was well worth looking at, and for that reason Godfrey kept his gaze down in his wine cup. Sworn to celibacy, Templars were also sworn to avoid women. Seeking a distraction, Godfrey peered down into his cup and found that it was empty. He refilled it, and before he knew it, it was empty again. The feast was still going strong, and there was nothing to do but have another cup of wine. And another. For hours the feast continued. The lords of Antioch began to leave as the night grew dark. Close on midnight, Reynald, otherwise known as the Hawk of Antioch, and Prince Bohemund left, and, an hour later, the Lady Phillipa. All this went by in a blur for Godfrey as he drained wine cups, interspersed with roasted meat and exotic fruits. Next to Godfrey, Jacques stood up and left for his quarters in the palace. Half

an hour later, Andronicus’s companions Langosse and Basil got up. “Lord Andronicus, shall we leave?” asked Basil. Andronicus had just discovered how good the wine was. “Go on back,” he said. “I’ll join you soon.” The big Saxon glared at Godfrey, then he and Langosse left. Another of Andronicus’s men, Murzuphlus by name, looked around, noticed his two friends had gone, and then got up himself. “My lord Andronicus, will you need any assistance?” “No,” said Andronicus, his voice a little slurred. “Go on back.” Murzuphlus left. Godfrey glanced up for a second from his wine cup. The hall was mostly empty, except for a few others still drinking, and servants clearing away the food. Godfrey kept on drinking. “You Templars,” Andronicus spoke suddenly to Godfrey, ripping off the leg of a roasted bird. “You call yourselves knights.” Godfrey nodded, drinking deeply from his cup. “In Byzantium,” continued the Greek, “when we hear of knights, we think of the ballads that your troubadours in Europe sing. But you are nothing like that.” “The troubadours?” Godfrey laughed as he filled his cup with wine. “No, I hope not. You don’t know much about the West.” Andronicus drained his cup and spread his arms wide. “Enlighten me, then.” Godfrey sighed and set down his wine cup. “You must have heard of the troubles in Languedoc.” Andronicus Comnenus laughed. “Yes, the Cathars. We in the East find it amusing. We have no heretics in Byzantium.” “Well,” growled Godfrey, “I suppose there would be fewer heretics when the emperor controls the church and uses the state as a weapon.” “Leave it, Sir Templar,” said Andronicus. “It was an idle boast, if boast it can be called.” Godfrey nodded, taking a deep draught of wine. “Most of the troubadours,” continued Godfrey, “are Cathars. So I pray God I never become like one of their heroes.”

NATHAN SADASIVAN

“Yes,” said Andronicus, “I’m sure Rome would never approve of much of what they sing. I guess that celibate men will always be prudish.” Godfrey sighed, ignoring the jibe. “Not all the ballads of the troubadours are so twisted, though,” he said. “Have you ever heard of Roland?” “Yes,” said the Greek, “I have. The Chanson de Roland, the greatest ballad of the West. Roland, mightiest of Charlemagne’s twelve Paladins. A fine legend.” Godfrey drained his cup and refilled it. “In Greece we have legends of our own,” continued Andronicus. “Older than the Chanson, older than Roland, older than the Christ himself. The Greeks were worshipping the old gods centuries before the Maccabees fought in the land which you now inhabit.” “Don’t know much about them,” said Godfrey. “There are few, or perhaps none, in the West who can read Greek. We hear but hints of ancient perversion and cruelty.” “Perversion and cruelty? Yes, the old gods were no strangers to those.” He laughed mirthlessly. “They slew mortals in fits of jealousy and chose mortals as their lovers whether they willed it or not.” Godfrey frowned, and Andronicus laughed again. “But there was more than that. Perversion…well, we would consider it so now, but the Greeks of old did not. And beyond that, there was much good in the old world that is now lost to us. Thou hast conquered, Galilean…” Godfrey glanced up from his wine. “Who said that?” Andronicus smiled. “A great man. The pagan world was much merrier than ours, don’t you agree? It is one of the…imperfections of our Christian world. And our esteemed Saracen foes, much as they hate us, like to join in that ecstasy of pessimism and frenzy of self-denial. The belief that this world is merely an unhappy preparation for the next.” Andronicus’s eyes narrowed, and his voice, which had been growing steadily more serious, hardened. “That belief,” he said, “has done too much evil already.” “Evil?” asked Godfrey, a suspicious frown crossing his face. “You believe that

HISTORICAL FICTION: THE TRAP

the Church—either Greek or Latin—has brought about more evil into the world?” Andronicus hesitated now before speaking. “Sir Templar, there are many with whom I would not speak of this, but I deem you to be more…intelligent than many. You will understand the thread of my thoughts presently.” “Go on, then.” The frown on Godfrey’s face only deepened. “The pagans, the old Greeks, did not worry so much about penance, unless it was to watch tragic heroes performing it on the stage. They did not worry so much about it because they saw that it was possible to truly enjoy life. You see, Sir Templar, they really lived. The Christian world has forgotten what it means to be happy.” For a long moment, Godfrey was silent. He drained his cup, but he did not refill it this time. His tongue was loosened by wine, and he paid no heed to how long he spoke or whether Andronicus was even listening. “Yes, perhaps it is true that the pagans lived merrier lives than we do. They showed their joy for the world to see, and, as you put it, they lived. But…therein lies the problem. They wore their joy like a cloak, flaunting their bacchanalia before the world, as though trying to convince themselves that they were happy by convincing everyone else that they were happy. “But,” continued Godfrey, “the pagans were scared—surely you have seen that. They strove to live, but it was merely a game to try and forget, for a moment at least, the coming darkness. I know little enough of their dramas and their plays and their epics, but I know this much: the thing they strove after most was immortality. They were afraid, very afraid, for they saw clearly that after they were done living, all that was left was to slip into blackness and despair. A story that tried to portray a really lasting happiness could not satisfy in the pagan world; why do you think the death of Hector or the blinding of Oedipus were the most enduring of the heathen epics? They saw the good things of the world and loved them, but they knew that their joy could not last.

“With the Christian,” said Godfrey, his voice growing louder with excitement, “the world sees only his suffering. But that is merely a covering, for underneath it lies his joy. And that joy is Christ, for there alone is any good thing eternal—there alone can we love any good thing and not despair. So, Andronicus Comnenus, I must disagree. I am glad, very glad, that the pagan world has faded. The gods of Olympus are dead, and thanks be to God for that.” Andronicus Comnenus was chortling into his wine. “Well said, Sir Templar. You are a rare individual; I do not often hear Christians speak as you do.” The Greek’s tone was too carefree, too pleasant. “I will think about your words,” he said in a voice that meant he would not. “But,” he continued, “Sir Templar, I must say that I have never found this joy you say is buried in the Christian’s heart.” “Perhaps,” said Godfrey, peering down into his goblet, “you have never really looked for it.” After the words were out of his mouth he wished he had looked the Greek in the eyes as he spoke. The Greek snorted. “Sir Templar, you are an idealist.” “If that’s so,” said Godfrey, “I intend to live up to my ideal.” Andronicus grabbed some grapes from a platter. “For all that you scoff at the knight of the troubadour’s ballad, you are rather like them yourself.” Godfrey choked on a mouthful of bread. He frowned at the Greek, who continued. “Like any hero in a minstrel’s song, you have your impossible ideal which you will follow to your death. From what little you have said to me already, you would be accounted a fool by any statesman or lord; you seem to know nothing of diplomacy or pragmatism. And yet, you treat the troubadour’s ballads with scorn. You are a curious fellow, Sir Templar. Godfrey de Montferrat, the Knight of the Impossible Ideal.” Godfrey chewed slowly and said nothing. Smiling to himself, Andronicus looked down into his wine cup. Suddenly, Godfrey laughed. “The Knight of the Impossible Ideal. I like it.” Godfrey

stood up, and noticed that the hall was nearly empty. He turned and bumped into a chair that shouldn’t have been there. Next to him, Andronicus Comnenus stood up also. He looked around at the vacant seats. “Sir Templar,” said the Greek, “it appears my companions have all departed. Come with me, and I will show you the fair city of Antioch.” Godfrey could not find it in him to sleep, so he nodded dizzily. He stumbled when he walked. He was drunk as he had never been before he had joined the Order of the Temple. He felt a guilty stab of conscience, but pushed it away. The master had given him dispensation as was necessary from the restrictions of the Order. Not that it had been necessary to drink himself into this state. But what else was there to do for two hours? Godfrey was not very sure how long he walked the streets of Antioch with the Greek that night, but he remembered fuzzy glimpses of the citadel, the great gate, the palaces of the city, and some of Andronicus Comnenus’s favorite brothels, which the Greek was prudent enough not to try to convince Godfrey to enter, even while drunk. They passed many others; tramps and workers, wealthy noblemen and friends of Andronicus on their way to the taverns. Godfrey never knew what time of night it was when they stumbled around a corner into a dead end. Not even a faint touch of light had shown itself in the horizon, though Godfrey was sure that he had been outside for hours. On the west side of the city, near the docks, they stepped into a cul-de-sac. In the dark they didn’t see the men until it was too late. Three men had emerged from an alley to block their way out. They were big men, taller than the Greek and as tall as the Templar, with arms twice as thick as either. Godfrey took a step back at the sight of them, but Andronicus stood his ground. “What do you want, friends?” he asked. The man in the center growled something to the other two, and they moved forward. Andronicus took a careless step back-

NATHAN SADASIVAN

wards. Godfrey looked over the men. The one in the center was wearing a torn ringmail shirt. The other men wore only tattered clothing, but they had cudgels and knives in their hands. “We have no money on us, friend,” continued Andronicus calmly, almost threateningly. “If there’s anything else, you can ask for it, and we may be willing to part with it.” “Would you give up that sword?” came a growl from behind them. Godfrey whirled around to see three more men waiting in the alley behind them. Andronicus did not move, only glanced down at his sword, a beautiful, finely crafted one-hand blade. “No,” he said airily. “I will keep that.” The big man with the ringmail shirt drew a greatsword, nodded at the others, and they closed in fast. Godfrey grabbed the hilt of his sword, but one of the men from behind grabbed him first, slamming his hand down on the hilt before Godfrey could draw it. Godfrey punched the man in the face. His assailant reeled from the blow, but swung around punched Godfrey back, smashing in his nose. Godfrey stepped back and tried to draw the sword again, but the man was on him, smashing his face again and again. Andronicus, however, had been faster. Even as the footpads closed in, his light Greek sword was in his hand, flashing under the pale sliver of moonlight. He lunged forward as his foes drew forth their weapons. He rushed at a big man with a cudgel and closed with him, too close for his foe to swing. As he did, he drove his sword upward. For a moment the two stood an inch apart, staring at each other. One of Andronicus’s hands was on the other’s shoulder. The tip of the Greek’s blade stuck out of the man’s back, the blood black against the shining sword. The cudgel had dropped from the man’s hand. Andronicus shoved the body into the way of the others, using the force to brutally rip his sword out, spraying himself with blood and innards. The rest tried to close in on the Greek, but Andronicus was already moving swiftly through the narrow space allowed

HISTORICAL FICTION: THE TRAP

him, slicing into one man’s wrist, landing a hard blow upward into another’s nose. Cudgels swung, knives stabbed, but the Greek slipped through unharmed. One man whom Andronicus had knocked down scrambled up behind him, raising a knife to stab. Catching a blur of movement from the corner of his eye, the Greek crouched and spun about, sticking the man in his stomach. This time the blade slid out of the dead footpad’s body neatly as Andronicus danced away from another man’s cudgel. Finally recovering himself, Godfrey rolled away from his assailant’s blows. He could feel slick, wet blood running down his face, but the adrenalin was flowing through him now. The man lunged in to finish him, but Godfrey caught him in the stomach with his foot. His foe doubled over, winded. Godfrey stepped back, and now he finally had room to draw his sword. He glanced around quickly. Four of the assailants lay dead on the ground, and Andronicus was fighting the man with the greatsword. The footpad with whom Godfrey had been fighting caught his breath and ripped a rusted morningstar from his belt. Whirling the spiked ball on its chain above his head, he came at Godfrey. Godfrey backed up, his sword held in front of him. The morningstar swung and wrapped about his blade, pulling his sword aside. Godfrey gripped the hilt tightly to prevent the sword from being ripped out of his hands. He pulled loose, struck again, and the morningstar swung in response, wrapping round the sword and pulling it out of line. The man wrenched the morningstar, again trying to pull the sword from Godfrey’s hands. This time Godfrey was ready. He stepped forward, in the same direction as the man was pulling, stepping farther and wrenching forward. The morningstar was ripped from the footpad’s hand and went flying off into the alley. In the same motion, Godfrey came swinging around full circle and opened the man’s throat with his sword. He turned to see Andronicus standing over the dead body of their last assailant. The Greek was smiling drunkenly, and

when he saw Godfrey looking at him, he began to laugh. “Well, Sir Templar, it’s been years since I’ve had a fight like that.” Godfrey sheathed his bloody sword. “How?” he asked, dazed and confused. “You took on five of them, while I was struggling to fight one.” Godfrey’s head was spinning. Andronicus kept on laughing. “I have trained at this for years. You Templars, all that you do for practice is to hack at wooden stands for an hour every day. Perhaps that builds your strength, but it teaches you nothing of the use of a blade. Since you seem to know nothing of swordplay, how would you like to learn?” Godfrey frowned. “From you?” “Of course. Your master has given you no specific assignment, and you could be here for months. Years. It would entertain me for quite a while.” “Swordplay,” repeated Godfrey. “But what use is that? You don’t need swordplay from the back of a horse; you just need to have strength enough to keep hacking at the men below you.” The Greek laughed. He seemed to do that frequently. “Look around you—five men could not take me down. That is what use swordplay is. You Franks are all alike; you never see past the end of your horse’s arse. What happens when your horse is killed? Do you know how many bold knights have died because they didn’t know one end of a blade from the other once they fell from their noble steed?” Godfrey’s mind did not register most of what the Greek was saying. Instead, all that he saw was himself, fighting desperately against Malik al-Harawi in the Egyptian desert, being beaten back because he knew nothing of swordplay. “Yes,” he said. “I would be glad to learn.” Nathan Sadasivan is a past winner of the Tarpeian Rock Young Writer’s contest. He is currently a student of classical languages and literature at Ave Maria College in Florida.

FANTASY: THE CURSE OF BORELLO, PART VII

by Robert F. Kauffmann Two monks, Solkek and Ballion continue translating St. Lonias’s account of the history of Baron Borello XIV through correspondence. So far, a foreign stranger, known as the Vassal, has arrived in the court of Borello with a gift and promises of friendship with his powerful master, Ollock of Umbra. The gift is the Mandible of Olgo said to have the power to lead its owner to wealth. Through this gift, and his wit and guile, the Vassal seeks to overthrow the Baron according to Ollock’s wish. The use of the platinum Mandible leads to the discovery of gold in nearby hills, and for awhile, the streets seem to run with gold and the people of Borellias fall into crime and license, even as the Vassal inaugurates his own campaign to corrupt the Baron’s court through decadence and malfeasance.

It is difficult to explain what we find here since good Lonias has not provided much explanation himself. I can only speculate that the holy monk had only his own recollections and those of a madman from which to weave an account that would bear remembering by largely illiterate heathen folk among whom he based his mission. It seems to me, that for the sake of instructing posterity upon the lessons that may be learned from these events, he has embellished this history so as to best convey these lessons. I have gone on long enough for now. Enclosed is the next canto, where that which was foreboded begins to unfold. I look forward to your next letter--though you should not hurry on my account. Take all the time you need. The last thing you want to do when getting back into your routine is to overtax yourself. —Yours in the Lord, Brother Solkek

XIII

The Baron, by now, has become putty in the Vassal’s hand, and when the gold supply in the hills begins to run dry, the social order disintegrates. The Vassal, in his malice, counsels the Baron to undergo surgery to have the Mandible implanted in his skull, hoping the surgery will prove fatal or debilitating to the Baron. Yet malice oft finds a course to come back upon its perpetrator...

When the Baron awoke from sanguinary dreaming, He spied through his bandages the bright beams of day, Grimly dimmed through layers of soft milky gauze. He sluggishly stirred, groaning sorry queries, Questing for some comfort and a kindly helping hand In his dark time of misery and solitary despair: “Where goes my Vassal? Why comes he not here, At his masters’s side standing, sworn loyalty fulfilling?”

Dear Brother Ballion, I can understand your doubts regarding Canto XII. It was written from an unusual perspective to say the least. I have checked and rechecked what remains of the original, but Canto XII appears to have been written by the same hand, and in proper sequence with the rest of the work.

But the one who answered was less welcome than this: The voice of wise Vizor his elder counselor Who had opposed to his face his decisions of late: “Rest easy, my lord, and save what little strength

FANTASY: THE CURSE OF BORELLO, PART VII

Is reserved in your breast to be used to recover, And be contented by the care of your longloyal servant.” But the Baron was unappeased and cried all the louder, So Vizor soon replied, addressing his demands: “Settle into waiting, and likely shall you see him, That trusty little Vassal bound by his tryst Who bore you by his loyalty to this unlikely pass, Owning now all credit for rewards you now reap.” Now the Baron wished to rave and excoriate his servant, And he rose from his pillow to turn upon Vizor. But his strength at once failed, and he fainted away, Drowned in dark dreams and visions of viscera. When later he awoke in trembling fevered sweat, The Baron cried in horror, fazed by inner phantasms. “What troubles my Baron?” the Vassal’s voice intoned. So the Baron then dissembled to his trusted servant: “This illness in my head implants vile visions Of gold-paved boulevards bathed in bloody gore With a golden demon idol leering over all.” Then, knowing he spoke nonsense, the Baron bolted upright. “But why do I babble of foul dreams and visions? I’ve been bed-ridden for ages and pine for present release! Bring on now the physician to strip away these wraps That my face might feel daylight and free air upon it! For thankful shall I be, if only not to see My face turned so foul as my dark dreams of late. For all will go ill for both lord and Vassal

If this visage be turned to an image of gore.” But the Vassal spoke smoothly, both confident and soft. For Borello’s threats fell hollow, thrall that he was To his true master, Ollock, whose spells still held sway. “Patience, my lord, for all will go well, Whether fair or foul you find your face. For healing shall show forth to soothe your distress, And all sorrows unsoothed shall pass unto naught In the sight of good fortunes your visions portend.” Riled by this riddle, the Baron rose from bed Pointing unseeing in the Vassal’s direction: “’Ware now, my Vassal, lest mine ire you rouse With your serpentine speech laced in veiled meanings. For better am I now than brainless and bed-ridden Lest you thought me vulnerable to your prodding and plying.” Aback by the Baron’s most forward manner, The Vassal voiced defensively supplications and instructions: “Nay my lord! Mistake me not! For knowledge I hold of faraway lore Pertaining to your visions of blood and gold. For, far deep in the south in a distant age Lived the lords of a land well-known in tales. Zarn was their realm, and far was their reach, Enslaving all peoples and delving the earth Extracting all manner of mineral wealth. “But they foundered in decadence and disarray. Their memory ran to ruins, overgrown by grass. Yet legends still tell of their buried gold: Vast beyond measure, but guarded by the curse

ROBERT F. KAUFFMANN

That devoured their cities to extinction and ash So that none dare venture to grasp at their wealth For fear of this wyrd that wrenched them unto ruin.” But the Baron, in response, settled back with a scowl.

For real were Zarn’s realms, lying furlongs far south, Its plains I passed through to repair to your presence. And, to us in the south, these legends are true history Known well by our scholars in writ and tradition.”

“So just what are old tales and legends to me And what have they to do with delirium and dreaming? I’ve a realm now to rule as real as broad day To set firmly in order from profound disarray, And no room in my mind to linger upon lore Of long-ruined realms and tall tales of treasure.” But the Vassal, full of guile, had more yet to tell To sway his lord to his will and way:

But the Baron bridled at this boastful yarn, Intolerant of tall tales told untrue. So the Vassal was taken to task by the Baron: “Whence, then, and how, O unctuous underling, Does lore of lost wealth, ancient and longburied Concern me a land-lord, beleaguered by woes? For in chasing fleeting phantoms of longforgotten gold Shall I hasten my realm’s ruin through absence and neglect.”

“Think not these dreams that plague your person To be phantoms of sickness borne of illchance, For the mandible you wear works potently its powers, Though you knew this not in your ill state of health.

But the Vassal, as always, could quickly reply: “The answer, Lord, is in you: Focus now your thoughts Through the powers of your mandible to regions far south. Meditate upon finding a fountain of wealth Hidden at the inception of earliest histories And the unplundered gold of Zarnian lords

Th Epic e Poe Lives m ! written and illustrated by Robert F. Kauffmann Praise for The Mask of Ollock... “It is difficult not to think of Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy while reading Mask....Mask, like Rings employs vivid detail in its narrative, and fans of the fantasy genre will find it a unique interpretation of a timeless theme.” —Kathryn Lively, author of Little Flowers Paperback ~ 192 pp. 14 illustrations Price: $12.95

To order, send check or money order for $12.95 + $2.50 shipping to: Arx Publishing, LLC, PO Box 1333, Merchantville NJ 08109, USA

FANTASY: THE CURSE OF BORELLO, PART VII

Shall be manifest in mind opening a way Long-sealed for centuries from fortuneseeking foes.” The Baron settled down, and centered his inner gaze Upon treasures far south in foreign fields, And, like a magnet drawn hither to the strongest force, His gaze surveyed sights of unpurloined gold. “An untamed land is in my mind’s eye With grass-grown ruins half-crumbled to dust. Amidst them slink savages sunk to greatest degradation Given to barbarities such as human sacrifice. “Living victims they dismember at a pyramid’s pinnacle, And their blood is made to flow down its many steep steps. Deep in that ziggurat unconquered by ages Is buried a vault unplied by thieves’ craft That is perfectly stuffed with enormous wealth Untainted by time under such strong shelter.” But before the Baron could conclude his scry, He was sharply disrupted by raps at his door.

Of fragile flesh flayed by a surgeon’s errant scalpel.” But something the physician said set the Baron on a tirade: “‘Fragile flesh flayed!’ Why say you so? Tell me who you are, and where went the one Whose skilled hands implanted the Mandible of Olgo?” But his answer was preempted by Vizor’s snide query Accosting the Vassal who was slinking to the exit After fidgeting uneasily in the soles of his boots At uncomfortable questions that could turn to indictment: “Where go you, Vassal? Why the unease? Would you leave your lord’s side in his time of distress? The Baron asks a question which only you may answer! Mayhap, you fear your own counsel’s consequence?”

In entered Vizor at the Baron’s brusque call And with him his physician to ply his craft. “Forgive the intrusion, my lord and liege, But your doctor now arrives to attend to your ailments.” But the Baron, balking, expressed his impatience: “And what has he to say of my current condition? Whence comes release from this suffocating prison? And when will mine eyes gaze upon light of day?” “Your wraps I’ll now unbind,” the physician declared, “That have shielded wounded tissue from harsh exposure To evil tainted airs that would hamper all healing

He spied through his bandages the bright beams of day, Grimly dimmed through layers of soft milky gauze.

The Vassal’s eyes slivered, as he hissed like a viper And spewed forth his venom as he froze at the door, His poisonous rhetoric so sharp and so biting: “How dare you, knave, impugn my intentions! I’ve nothing but loyalty of the deepest sorts Toward our bed-ridden lord who pines for such! Speak rather of yourself, most treasonous of species, For opposing your lord’s will at every single instance...” But the Baron screamed in outrage, interrupting debate, As he cut loose with his own in untempered verbiage: “Perdition consume you both for bickering by my bed! For, answers I require, and I’ll have them at once! So stay you now beside me, O vile Vassal! And account, now, before me the first surgeon’s absence From my bedside this moment, where my bandages are unbound By this substitute physician standing in my presence!” “My liege, forgive me,” the Vassal then soothed, “But the surgeon absconded ere ever I could constrain him And he left no word, nor gleaned any money. So his vexing character can be scarcely explained, Given his high reputation as it came to my ear...” But the Vassal broke in speech as those gauze wraps unraveled Revealing a visage that seemed human no longer Bearing resemblance, rather, to violated viscera. And all stared stupefied at their ruined Baron As would gawkers gaping at carnival freaks

ROBERT F. KAUFFMANN

That are chained like animals in some obscene zoo For all the world, like some twisted display Of all entities mocked and accursed by cruel nature. And the Baron met their gazes in growing distress That told to him now his worst fears confirmed, Like a silently passed sentence to the torments of perdition Snatching a looking-glass from Vizor’s shaking grip, He stared one long moment in profound disbelief Before lunging for the throat of that traitorous Vassal Who nimbly stepped aside, seeking fast escape. But the door was barred, as the Baron leaned gasping, While Vizor came instantly, whispering words of counsel: “Say the wise word, Lord, and we’ll render unto him Tenfold this outrage he’s heaped upon your person!” “The word is given,” the Baron shrilly bawled, As he crumpled in a corner, a quivering heap of misery. And Vizor smiled slyly, as he blew upon a whistle, Whereupon, in burst guards at his beck and call. “Bind him,” he bellowed, pointing to the Vassal Who was seized under protest and hauled away shrieking While a slow grin of relish upon Vizor’s face grew, As he reveled in revenge that was longoverdue. Robert F. Kauffmann is an artist, writer, animator, and computer programmer from Cinnaminson, New Jersey. The Curse of Borello is the sequel to his book, The Mask of Ollock. Contact him at mathart63@gmail.com.

GREAT BOOKS

FOR

INSATIABLE READERS—INTRODUCTION

Great Books for Insatiable Readers The books on these pages are ones that will generally not be found in your local chain bookstores. All are creative, thought-provoking, and exciting. Most contain some element of Christian history, morality, and spirituality, and none are hostile to it. As such, they are excellent books for parents looking for high-quality supplemental reading material. If you’re like us, you’ll probably enjoy reading them as much as your kids! Feel free to use the form on the last page to order any of these books. You may also order via our website: www.arxpub.com/HSBookstore/Index.html —The Editors, Arx Publishing

Crown of the World

Book 1: Knight of the Temple

Age level: 14 and up

by Nathan Sadasivan

NEW Paperback 296 pp. + map Price: $16.95

Here is the tale of Godfrey de Montferrat, a boy who became a Templar and swore an oath to defend the Kingdom of Jerusalem. It is also the tale of that kingdom, which men called Outremer—The Land Beyond the Sea. By Godfrey’s time, the kingdom is dying, chivalry fading, hope growing cold, and foes pressing hard from every side. But Godfrey stands in contradiction to the prevailing rot—a young man striving to live up to the heroic ideal. Surrounded by greed and corruption, Godfrey must determine where his true loyalties lay: to friends? to prince? to love? to God? Around Godfrey swirl the loves, betrayals, triumphs, and disasters of the Kingdom’s waning years. Knight of the Temple weaves together an exciting, multi-layered and historically faithful tale of the Land Beyond the Sea.

Angels in Iron by Nicholas C. Prata

T ER

BES

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Paperback 313 pp. +map Price: $16.95

Age level: 14 and up

“The novel’s principal strength is its attention to historical detail and the unrelenting realism with which the battle scenes—and there are many—are described....The violence, moreover, is not gratuitous; its effect is to highlight the reality of war, not glorify it. Rather it is the courage, fortitude and faith of the Knights that Prata successfully glorifies. In addition to being an exciting action/ adventure yarn and quite a page-turner, Angels in Iron is valuable as a miniature history lesson as well....This is a book that belongs on the bookshelf of every Catholic man, should be read by every Catholic boy (11 or older, I would say), and stocked by every Catholic school library.” —Latin Mass Magazine “Prata brings this fascinating tale to life by giving the characters real personalities....The overwhelming theme is courage, honor, and the Catholic faith. The knights know what the loss of this island will mean. They are willing to die for their faith. There are also many touching moments regarding their Faith....The book is a real page-turner.” —love2learn.net, Favorite Resources for Catholic Homeschoolers

GREAT BOOKS

FOR

INSATIABLE READERS—HISTORICAL FICTION

With Pipe, Paddle and Song by Elizabeth Yates

Age level: 14 and up

Son of a French nobleman and a Chippewa Indian woman, Guillaume has spent half of his life in his father’s Montreal chateau, half in his mother’s village. When his father returns to France the sixteen-year-old is determined to make his own way in the world. He signs up with a rough and ready crew of voyageurs ready to start on their journey into the wilds of Canada to bring back the rich furs that have made New France prosperous. All his life he has heard of the perilous waterways and dangerous portages, but Guillaume feels he can prove himself worthy.

Madeleine Takes Command

Paperback ~ 272 pp. Price: $14.95

Age level: 12 and up

by Ethel C. Brill Madeleine Takes Command is a true story of the 17th century Canadian frontier. With her parents away, it is up to 14 year old Madeleine de Vercheres and her two younger brothers to lead the defense of a small outpost against a surprise Mohawk attack. Though Madeleine is truly a courageous figure, her heroics are not accomplished through impossible feats of physical strength. Instead, she is able to preserve the family homestead with quick thinking, tireless energy, steady resolve, self-denial, an optimistic spirit, and devotion to family.

Red Hugh, Prince of Donegal

Paperback ~ 224 pp. Price: $14.95

Age level: 10 and up

by Robert T. Reilly It is 1587 and Queen Elizabeth plans to bring Ireland under her iron rule. Only one thing is stopping her: Warrior queen Ineen Duive and her young son, Hugh Roe O’Donnell. Carefree and proud, young Hugh grows up quickly after he is betrayed to the English. Taken to Birmingham Tower in Dublin, Hugh is held as a hostage. Can he escape in time to be of aid in the Irish struggle against the forces of Queen Elizabeth? Facts as exciting as fiction abound in this authentic portrayal of a glorious moment in Irish history.

Big John’s Secret by Eleanore M. Jewett

Paperback ~ 208 pp. Price: $12.95

Age level: 10 and up

Raised during the strife-filled days of King John of England, in a rude peasant village by “Old Marm,” Big John understands that an injustice has been done to his family and that Old Marm is preparing him one day to reclaim his name and avenge his unknown father. But Old Marm dies, and John is left without a clue to his name. In the next years John’s unusual size and strength earn him a place as page to an earl organizing the 5th Crusade. In the Holy Land, John searches for a father he hopes is living still. Amidst battle, capture and setbacks, John encounters Francis of Assisi who had come to the Holy Land to preach the Gospel to the Saracens.

Paperback ~ 230 pp. Price: $12.95

GREAT BOOKS

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INSATIABLE READERS—HISTORICAL FICTION

The Lost Baron by Allen French

Paperback ~ 320 pp. Price: $14.95

Age level: 10 and up

Martin, Son of Sir Anselm of the Hollow, risks his life in more ways than one in this fast-paced story of Cornwall in the year 1200. When the Baron Eric mysteriously disappears, his young daughter Rosamund must bear the increasing burden of his absence. The moody Sir Basil, distant relation and heir, has taken over the castle — and would not be pleased if Eric should ever return. In an unguarded moment of genuine gratitude, Young Martin is swiftly drawn into Rosamund’s troubles and into a few of his own before the tale reaches its dramatic climax.

Crusader King

A Novel of Baldwin IV

Age level: 12 and up

by Susan Peek

Paperback ~ 194 pp. Price: $12.95

Ascending the Throne of Jerusalem at the age of 13 in the year AD 1174, Baldwin IV faced one of the most difficult tasks in all of history. He was tasked with defending the embattled Kingdom against the Turks, now led by a military genius known as Saladin. Yet there were also enemies within his own ranks—the ambitious Count of Tripoli, the outlaw Hawk of Kerak, and his own scheming sister. On top of all this, Baldwin’s body was slowly being consumed by leprosy. Readers of all ages will delight in this fast-paced and inspiring story which brings to life the tremendous drama of the Crusades.

The Red Keep by Allen French

Paperback ~ 256 pp. Price: $14.95

Age level: 10 and up

In the country of Burgundy, the Sauval brothers have begun to terrorize the surrounding lands in an attempt to bring the area under their control. They raid the Red Keep, in hope of gaining it for themselves, only to be thwarted by Sir Roger and Conan. Now they plot anew to steal the Keep from its rightful owner, Lady Ann. She, with Conan and her loyal followers, set out to bring justice upon the evil brothers. This swashbuckling tale is filled with the authentic flavor of the twelfth century.

The Story of Rolf and the Viking Bow

Age level: 12 and up

by Allen French

Paperback ~ 256 pp. Price: $13.95

The excellent tale is set in Iceland in the days when Christianity first came to the island. The old customs, though, still linger. Hiarandi, at the urging of his wife, does an unprecedented thing. He lights a signal fire on a dangerous point of his land, thereby challenging the the custom which places salvage at higher value than the saving of life. However, the life that is saved that night, causes his own death and the unjust outlawing of his son Rolf. Rolf’s response to this injustice creates a suspenseful, thought-provoking tale difficult to put down.

GREAT BOOKS

FOR

INSATIABLE READERS—HISTORICAL FICTION

The Hidden Treasure of Glaston

Age level: 10 and up

by Eleanore M. Jewett Amidst great mystery, a crippled boy named Hugh is left in the care of Glastonbury Abbey by his father. Ashamed of his physical weakness, yet possessed of a stout heart, Hugh finds that life at the abbey is quite full in the 12th century days of King Henry II. Hugh, his friend Dickon and their strange friend, the mad Bleheris, uncover a treasure trove, and with it a deeper mystery of the sort that could only occur in Glastonbury where Joseph of Arimithea was said to have lived out his last years.

If All the Swords in England A Story of Thomas Becket

Paperback ~ 352 pp. Price: $14.95

Age level: 10 and up

by Barbara Willard Young Simon, recently and tragically orphaned, becomes a scribe in the following of the exiled Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Becket. The uncertainty of the tumultuous years leading to the infamous cathedral slaying is heightened by Simon’s separation from his twin Edmund, who is in the service of King Henry II. With an expert pen, Barbara Willard deftly recounts the events leading to the bishop’s martyrdom in 1170 AD.

The Blue Gonfalon at the First Crusade

Paperback ~ 200 pp. Price: $12.95

Age level: 12 and up

by Margaret Ann Hubbard Ever since he could remember, Bennet wanted to become a knight. Then one day Peter the Hermit rode through Lorraine, describing atrocities committed by infidels in Jerusalem and calling for an army of Christians to march to Palenstine. Bennet’s chance had come at last, for when Godfrey takes the crusader’s cross, he asks Bennet to accompany him to the Holy Land as his squire. With the blue gonfalon flying at the head of the French troops, Bennet begins the journey to Jerusalem—toward adventure, danger, and his dream of knighthood.

Beorn the Proud

by Madeleine Polland

Hardcover ~ 188 pp. Price: $14.00

Age level: 10 and up

The coast of Ireland in the 9th century is the prey of Viking marauders. Young Ness has been taken captive by Beorn, on his first raiding trip with his father’s band of warriors. She must accompany them as they make their way back to Denmark, and so experiences the dangerous tensions and misfortunes that threaten the entire fleet. Her faith in the Christian God—ridiculed by Beorn—helps sustain her during her captivity. But Beorn grows ever prouder and disaster threatens to sweep him, and Ness, away.

Paperback ~ 208 pp. Price: $13.95

GREAT BOOKS

FOR

INSATIABLE READERS—HISTORICAL FICTION

Son of Charlemagne by Barbara Willard

Paperback ~ 208 pp. Price: $12.95

In the year 781 AD, King Charles of the Franks is crossing the Alps to meet Pope Adrian. On the way, he tells his son Carl that he has decided to name him his heir. But the King already had an heir—Pepin the Hunchback, mockingly called Gobbo. Was he to be dispossessed? Yet Carl sees that Charlemagne is determined to do what he feels is best to serve God and Europe. This multi-faceted story will stir the imaginations of young people as, through Carl’s eyes, they discover the grand dimensions of western Europe’s foundations.

Beowulf the Warrior by Ian Serraillier

Paperback ~ 64 pp. Price: $7.95

Age level: 10 and up

Age level: 9 and up

Beowulf the Warrior is an outstanding modern abridgement of the oldest epic in the English language. Ian Serraillier has retold in verse the story of the hero Beowulf and his three memorable exploits. First, his rescue of Hrothgar the Dane from the ravages of the monster Grendel; next, his victory over Grendel’s horrible mother; and finally, Beowulf’s old age and saving the Geats from a terrible dragon at the cost of his own life. Beowulf’s heroism and noble heart communicate to any English-speaking listener.

Belisarius

The First Shall Be Last

Age level: 12 and up

by Paolo A. Belzoni “A great new resource for those of you ‘reading your way through history.’ ...The author weaves in a great view of the historical time period in Byzantium: the state of the cities, ‘the factions,’ the movement and assimilation of the barbarians, and the politics of the Empire.” —Favorite Resources for Catholic Homeschoolers Paperback 248 pp. + maps Price: $14.95

“An ambitious tale, filled with action, spectacle, and intrigues of all kinds....The novel exalts a youthful leader who is virtuous to a fault, is unfailingly loyal to God and country, who manages setbacks with aplomb, is handy with weapons and gets the pretty girl in the end.” —CatholicFiction.net

The Exiles of the Cebenna

Age level: 12 and up

by John Mason Neale

Paperback ~ 132 pp. Price: $7.95

Told from the perspective of Aurelius Gratian, a Priest of the holy Church of God, The Exiles of the Cebenna is a moving account of the community of Christians of Arles during the Decian persecution (AD 249–251). Written in a lively style by John Mason Neale and annotated for contemporary readers, the tale weaves together the tribulations of the Christians who remained in Arles for the persecution with the experiences of those who, led by Father Gratian, dared an escape from the city. The Exiles of the Cebenna is at once a suspenseful adventure story and an inspiring tale of the Christian Faith.

GREAT BOOKS

FOR

INSATIABLE READERS—HISTORICAL FICTION

Beyond the Desert Gate by Mary Ray

Age level: 12 and up

The sequel to The Ides of April, Beyond the Desert Gate is set in first century Palestine. The Jews have revolted against Roman occupation and the ten Greek cities of Palestine are caught in the middle. Conan, Nicanor, and Philo are left almost penniless after the murder of their father. Philo is befriended by Xenos, a man the brothers had saved from the desert who had lost his memory. Together they try to reclaim their identities, one from the past, the other for the future.

The Ides of April by Mary Ray

by Mary Ray

A Story of Nehemiah

Paperback ~ 184 pp. Price: $11.95

Age level: 12 and up

Twelve year old Gretorix is a slave from far off Britain. His master has bestowed him upon Diomed, a Roman boy who is paralyzed from the neck down. The only thing keeping young Diomed alive is the hope that someday he’ll be cured of his paralysis. But trouble is brewing in the Eternal City. The profligate emperor Nero is at the height of his decadence, and the people are grumbling over the exorbitant taxes he requires to live his lifestyle. When a huge fire breaks out in the city, Nero falsely accuses the followers of a magician known as Simon Peter who, it is said, can heal the sick.

Victory on the Walls

Paperback ~ 190 pp. Price: $11.95

Age level: 12 and up

Hylas is a young Greek slave in the household of Caius Pomponius, a Roman senator involved in dangerous political schemes. When the senator is found mysteriously murdered, the household slaves fall under suspicion. Hylas escapes capture long enough to enlist the aid of a young tribune, Camillus Rufus. Attempting to unravel the threads of intrigue before the summary execution of the slaves, Camillus is brought before Nero himself and Hylas discovers the new secret sect known as the Christians.

City of the Golden House

Paperback ~ 184 pp. Price: $11.95

Age level: 10 and up

by Frieda Clark Hyman Young Thirteen-year-old Bani, though born in Jerusalem, has lived from infancy with his uncle Nehemiah in beautiful Susa, the city of the Persian King Artaxerxes. Now, Nehemiah wants to leave his position of high honor as Cupbearer to the King to return to Jerusalem, a city in ruins and beset by every kind of trouble. Seen through the eyes of Bani, this novel dramatizes a turningpoint of history, in 445 BC, when—through confrontation and daring risks—Judaism was re-established in the Promised Land, and purified for her unfolding mission.

Paperback ~ 200 pp. Price: $12.95

GREAT BOOKS

FOR

INSATIABLE READERS—HISTORICAL FICTION

God King

Age level: 10 and up

A Story in the Days of King Hezekiah

by Joanne Williamson

Paperback ~ 211 pp. Price: $13.95

This excellent tale carries the reader back to Ancient Egypt and to the biblical Jerusalem. Around 701 B.C. Egypt is ruled by the Nubian Kushite dynasty. Young Prince Taharka, a very minor royal son, succeeds unexpectedly to the throne of Kush and Egypt. But a treacherous plot lands him in exile and into the hands of Amos, an emissary of King Hezekiah of Judea seeking help against the Assyrians. Far from home, Taharka encounters two kings in conflict, Sennacherib the Assyrian and Hezekiah the Jew, and must choose with whom to live or die.

The Laviniad An Epic Poem

Age level: 12 and up

by Claudio R. Salvucci

Paperback ~ 133 pp. Price: $11.95

“The The Laviniad is a truly unique work....The author successfully writes in the style of the ancient epic in modern English. Lovers of classic tales will really appreciate the poetry and the plot. The poem reads easily and naturally with the flow and flavor of the ancient epics. A complete glossary in the back will help anyone who has not read the Aeneid or the Iliad to understand the relationship of the characters and the various names of the Greeks, Trojans, and Latins.” —love2learn.net, Favorite Resources for Catholic Homeschoolers

Hittite Warrior by Joanne Williamson

Paperback ~ 164 pp. Price: $13.95

Uriah Tarhund’s Hittite home is destroyed by the invading Greeks. His dying father tells him to go south and seek a Caananite named Sisera. Uriah sets out and is plunged into the tumult of an uneasy Judea. When he finds Sisera, he is joins him in a war. The Caananites are defeated, but Uriah is able to make peace with himself, the Hebrews, and their God. This meticulously researched novel is set in the time of Judges, and incorporates Biblical facts with a gripping story, set against the wide background of ancient civilizations.

Shadow Hawk by Andre Norton

Paperback ~ 256 pp. Price: $12.95

Age level: 12 and up

Rahotep is more than a simple captain of the Nubian Desert Scouts—he is heir to the Nome of the Striking Hawk, which, with all of Egypt, has been under the harsh rule of the Hyksos. Accused of a crime he didn’t commit, Rahotep flees north to Thebes, accompanied only by a loyal band of Nubian archers. Here he takes refuge in the court of the Pharaoh Sekenenre III, who is determined to free Egypt. Treachery, at the hands of murderous and power-hunger priests, throws Rahotep into a cell, deep beneath the Temple of Anubis. He must escape and join in a battle upon which hangs the freedom of Egypt.

GREAT BOOKS

FOR

INSATIABLE READERS—POETRY/FANTASY/SCIFI

Broken Crusts

Songs of Faith and Freedom

Age level: 12 and up

by Clifford J. Laube “I found myself amazed as I began to read Clifford Laube’s poems. They open out onto the great regions of Catholic spirituality.....What a profound vision of things he had.” —Thomas Howard, author of On Being Catholic This collection captures the heart and soul of one of the great Catholic poets of the 20th century—his love of the natural world, his attachment to family, and his devotion to the transcendent God as revealed through the teachings of the Catholic Church.

The Menagerie of Marsepink

Paperback ~ 136 pp. Price: $12.95

Age level: 10 and up

by Claudio R. Salvucci A young zoology professor arrives at a prestigious Long Island college filled with jaded, materialistic scientists. But in a tower high above their heads, the college’s angelic heiress devotedly watches over a collection of handmade animals made of a more mysterious stuff than cloth and string. A tribute to the works of Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Menagerie of Marsepink is a short moral allegory on the limits of natural science and the supernatural reality of the soul.

Quest for the Light

Paperback ~ 40 pp. Price: $8.95

Age level: 10 and up

Part I of the Starman Saga

by Michael D. Cooper The Starmen are the highly-trained venturers of Starlight Enterprise. With their exploits, the 22nd century becomes a new age of discovery and exploration. In this volume, the Starmen take assignments on Mars, in the Asteroid Belt, on the tenth planet, and in the depths of the huge ocean under the ice on the surface of Europa. This compilation volume includes the first four original Starman novels in their entirety (Mutiny on Mars, The Runaway Asteroid, Journey to the Tenth Planet, and Descent into Europa) as well as the beginning of the fifth (The Lost Race of Mars).

Warriors of the Light

Part II of the Starman Saga

Paperback ~ 479 pp. Price: $34.95

Age level: 10 and up

by Michael D. Cooper In this second volume, the Starmen confront the evil of their time. Their adventures take them into the rings of Saturn, across the galaxy to a neon planet, and eventually to their enemy’s home planet. Without knowing what the challenge will cost, they set out with dedication and courage to bring the series to its stunning climax. This compilation volume includes the second half of The Lost Race of Mars as well as the entirety of Doomsday Horizon, The Heart of Danger, and The Last Command). This volume also includes three short stories, a glossary, illustrations, and appendices.

Paperback ~ 477 pp. Price: $34.95

GREAT BOOKS

FOR

INSATIABLE READERS—FANTASY

Niamh and the Hermit A Fairy Tale

Age level: 12 and up

by Emily C. A. Snyder

Paperback ~ 288 pp. Price: $14.95

“Niamh Niamh and the Hermit a beautifully written, morally sound, thoughtful, compelling and entertaining book. Emily Snyder ... has created the world of the ‘Twelve Kingdoms’, shadowed in Celtic mythology, but guided by Christian morals and traditions, in which to novelize one of the world’s great fairy tales. It’s difficult to do justice to this sort of book after only one reading, but I was very impressed with the beautiful writing, rich vocabulary, subtleties of humor and truth and the thoughtful lessons, characters and trials that make up the plot.” —love2learn.net, Favorite Resources for Catholic Homeschoolers

Charming the Moon by Emily C. A. Snyder

Paperback ~ 72 pp. Price: $9.95

Age level: 12 and up

Emily Snyder’s mythical world of the Twelve Kingdoms is brought to life again in Charming the Moon. This little tome contains a pair of short stories which elaborate upon the ancient history of the Twelve Kingdoms. In the first tale, Brigglekin the Dwarf is called upon to free a beautiful girl trapped within a silver sphere. Once she is in his possession, however, he is unable to liberate this precious treasure. Östrung the Giant tells the tale of the pining young Sun who longed to be reunited with his love the Moon, enlisting the help of a kindly giant to carry him to the very western edge of the world.

Runt the Hunted

Age level: 10 and up

by Daniel Schwabauer

Hardcover ~ 304 pp. Price: $17.95

“The wondrous sequel to Runt the Brave, Runt the Hunted continues the anthropomorphic adventures of a courageous young mouse in a world beset by dangers. The sly rat warrior Kreeg and his alliance of cutthroats is poised to destroy the underground mouse city of TiraNor, yet JaRed son of ReDemee, “Runt”, cannot deliver warning of the danger because the mad king has thrust him into exile....Award-winning novelist Daniel Schwabauer, M.A., has penned another winning forest fantasy for readers of all ages. Highly recommended.” —Midwest Book Review

Runt the Brave by Daniel Schwabauer

Age level: 10 and up

“A homerun for children and youth! This captivating story shares the critical, timeless truth of the unseen God ... and shows that great personal, family, and life barriers can be overcome with faith and courage.” —George Williams, President, R.E.A.D. to Kids

Hardcover ~ 224 pp. Price: $16.95

Runt the Brave is a unique retelling of the David and Goliath story. Driven by their merciless leader, an army of rats has besieged the mouse town of Tira-Nor. The city’s last hope lies with a mouse so small that even his family calls him “Runt.”

GREAT BOOKS

FOR

El Cid, God’s Own Champion

INSATIABLE READERS—HISTORY

Age level: 12 and up

The True Story of the Knight of Vivar

by James Fitzhenry El Cid, God’s Own Champion is an inspiring biography of the extraordinary Catholic knight chosen by God to save his nation from Islamic aggression. Known by the honorary title of El Cid, Rodrigo Diaz is a legendary hero directly relevant to modern times. Exiled by his king, insulted and maligned by those who should have supported him, he selflessly fought against seemingly insurmountable odds to save Christian Spain. Commanding the respect even of his enemies, the Cid is an example of what can be achieved through devotion to duty, prayer, and trust in God.

Story of the Last Days of Jerusalem

Paperback ~ 186 pp. Price: $15.95

Age level: 12 and up

by Alfred Church The Story of the Last Days of Jerusalem is an adaptation of Josephus’ dramatic first-hand account of the fall of Jerusalem in AD 70. It captures in detail one of the greatest tragedies of all time, often overlooked in more contemporary histories. Some of the scenes are particularly graphic and not suitable for younger readers. But this text is an invaluable addition for the mature student studying the history of Ancient Israel, who does not have the time to read Josephus’ original but very lengthy work, The Jewish War.

Our Young Folks’ Josephus by William Shepard

Paperback ~ 124 pp. Price: $12.95

Age level: 12 and up

“Jump back in time to a place where historical accounts of the Hebrews are brought to life in an exciting narrative style. The history of Ancient Israel is revealed in a first-hand account from the great historian Flavius Josephus. Our Young Folks’ Josephus is a compilation of his two greatest works, Antiquities of the Jews and The Jewish Wars. You’ll marvel at the history that is played-out before your eyes. A journey that begins with the call of Abraham and ends with the destruction of Jerusalem and the fall of Massada...this is a must-have for any bookshelf.” —Eclectic Homeschool Online

Paperback ~ 480 pp. Price: $24.95

The Life of Saint Augustine

Age level: 14 and up A Translation of the Sancti Augustini Vita by Possidius, Bishop of Calama

Translated by Herbert T. Weiskotten Few figures from antiquity are as well known to us as Augustine of Hippo. Yet, without this little biography written by his intimate friend Possidius, bishop of Calama, we would know comparatively little about Augustine’s life after his baptism. In straight-forward, unadorned prose, Possidius shows Augustine as a powerful intellect, voluminous writer, and compelling orator. But he also presents an Augustine who humbly endured the everyday trials and difficulties of life as a bishop in Roman Africa.

Paperback ~ 116 pp. Price: $16.95

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Recommended

✓

for Readers of All Ages... Angels in Iron

Belisarius

by Nicholas C. Prata

Book I: The First Shall be Last

“Angels in Iron is compellingly written and surprisingly difficult to put down....The characters are well developed and the pace of the novel is brisk. The short chapters are like potato chips...you can’t stop after just a few and you keep going back for more. A fascinating read for adults and teens.” —St. Linus Review

by Paolo A. Belzoni

313pp. + map ~ paperback ~ $16.95

Crown of the World

NEW

Book I: Knight of the Temple

by Nathan Sadasivan

“Driven by costumed action and Dune-like plots-within-plots, the novel exalts a youthful leader who is virtuous to a fault, is unfailingly loyal to God and country, who manages setbacks with aplomb, is handy with weapons and gets the pretty girl in the end.” —CatholicFiction.net

248pp. + maps ~ paperback ~ $14.95

Niamh and the Hermit A Fairy Tale

by Emily C. A. Snyder

Follow the adventures of the young Templar knight Godfrey de Montferrat in this vivid new portrait of the Crusades. Surrounded by greed and corruption, Godfrey strives to live up to the heroic ideal. But where do his true loyalties lay? To friends? To prince? To love? Or to God?

“Emily Snyder takes us through the Celtic mist to a world of mystic wonder. Imagine Tolkien’s true north sailing west. Imagine Gandalf wandering in the legendary footsteps of St. Patrick....Imagine Middle Earth coloured in forty shades of green.” —Professor Joseph Pearce

296pp. + map ~ paperback ~ $16.95

288pp. + maps + illus. ~ paperback ~ $14.95

To order, see page 28 of this catalog for information. You may also order via our website: www.arxpub.com