Novelas y relatos de Best Books Of The Ancient World

Glancing back to the photo, I gasped, “You’re Marcus Aurelius? No, no, no, it can’t be him.” I refused to believe that the Blood Eagle King was Marcus Aurelius. I read so much about him. He was the last great ruler when Rome was in its Golden Age. I went to the bookshelf on my left. The books were mostly about Romans. There were different ones like Sun Tzu’s Art of War and Machiavelli’s The Prince. There was also a book, Meditations, written by Marcus Aurelius himself. “I could really use your wisdom for my crappy life.”

I ask and watch in fascination as her eyes twinkle with excitement. Wow, she must really love it. "Oh, that's easy to answer. Tudor or just in general European medieval times, a little bit of Victorian and, of course, ancient Greece or ancient civilizations in general." She says, flashing me a knowing, teasing smile. "Ντροπή σου! (Shame on you!) You put Ελλάδας great and magnificent history last?! The civilization that gave the world philosophy, democracy, astronomy, physics, mathematics and even our language?" I mockingly chastise her.

The air was heavy with the scent of parchment and dust, the large shelves stretching high up to the ceilings, stacked with books too old to even remember their authors. I ran my fingers along the spines of the books, scanning the titles. Ancient Clan Wars. The First Kingdoms. Blood and Silver: The History of Alpha Dynasties. None of these were what I needed. I sighed, moving deeper into the archives. There had to be something here. I spent hours flipping through books, scanning old texts, piecing together fragments of history that barely made sense. Just when I was about to give up, my fingers brushed against a large, worn-out book hidden behind several others.

It was nearly 5:30 PM according to the clock, and would soon be a new moon by the look of it. He perused the books in the case, briefly scanning their titles. There were some dusty World War II tomes below, most likely George’s, and several of Glee’s books on cooking and gardens—and where was she, anyhow? He saw volumes about ancient Egypt and the pharaohs, the construction of the pyramids and such, while the upper shelves were filled with political books, everything from Pat Buchanan to Arianna Huffington, William F. Buckley Jr. to Gore Vidal. One title caught Richard off guard and made him laugh aloud: On Politics and the Art of Acting, by the playwright Arthur Miller.

Wow. I was drooling. It wasn't just a room with books. It was a sanctuary. Floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with hardcovers, a rolling ladder, a massive fireplace that looked like it hadn't been used in decades. The scent of old paper and leather hit me, comforting and familiar. I ran my finger along the spines. ‘The Art of War’, ‘Sun Tzu’. ‘Histories of the Roman Empire’. Biographies of kings and conquerors. Heavy stuff. Interspersed with them were fiction classics. Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Dumas.

As if his whole life depended on that decision and in a sense it was so. Taryn had done nothing but wait and read huge tomes that Elhias had made her bring by the servants. They said that those books came from the Bochus of Althea and that it was the king himself who took them. Not that Taryn understood the reasons. She did not know what would be the use of reading the ancient legends about the creation of the world, certainly it would not have been useful to her in a war against the usurper. They wouldn't argue which story was more truthful than the other.