Friday, September 27, 2013

Zenobia - Challenging a Legend - "Resting on laurels" is Ancient History

There are many sayings that we use today which have ancient history origins. Here's one:


Resting on laurels
The idea of resting on your laurels dates back to leaders and athletic stars of ancient Greece. In Hellenic times, laurel leaves were closely tied to Apollo, the god of music, prophecy and poetry. Apollo was usually depicted with a crown of laurel leaves, and the plant eventually became a symbol of status and achievement. Victorious athletes at the ancient Pythian Games received wreaths made of laurel branches, and the Romans later adopted the practice and presented wreaths to generals who won important battles. Venerable Greeks and Romans, or “laureates,” were thus able to “rest on their laurels” by basking in the glory of past achievements. Only later did the phrase take on a negative connotation, and since the 1800s it has been used for those who are overly satisfied with past triumphs.


We wanted to continue sharing with you exciting excerpts from Zenobia- Challenging a Legend. The scene today doesn't even have Zenobia in it but does display another tough woman.

The kidnapped girl had been captive for a week. She had seen a couple of other girls, evidently also captives, walking with the group during the day, but they were too separated to converse. She wanted to get a chance to talk with them. 
Her guard for that night, speaking Egyptian, asked her, “What is your name?”  
She was tempted not to answer, but she had already decided that the wiser course was to be friendly with the guards, at least the nicer ones. It might lead to an opportunity. “Tyrianna,” she answered, keeping her eyes downcast.  
He grunted. “An elegant name for an elegant girl.” He paused. “You are tall for a woman and your sinews appear tough. You are Ethiopian?” 
She only nodded her response. She figured he could see it in the light from the small campfire.  
*****
Tyrianna had decided that today she would escape or die trying. It was Brute’s turn to guard her and Patricia, which pleased her. The sky began to lighten in the east. Her ankles were bound together and then to a tree on a rope several cubits long, and her hands were tied in front of her. Still, she rose and went through a series of exercises to limber her muscles. Then she lay back down and pretended to sleep. She prepared herself mentally, visualizing her attack in her mind. 
Brute came for the girls shortly after sunrise. He untied Patricia’s legs first, then he gave her a push toward the campfire. She stumbled and fell. The guard gave a hearty laugh. 
Next he untied Tyrianna’s legs. “Wake up and get moving!” he commanded.  
As she expected, when she stood and stretched, he pushed her. She stumbled to her knees. One of us has just seen his last sunrise, the Ethiopian thought. She started to rise awkwardly, her rump in the air. She leaned her elbows on her right knee, and she clasped her hands together, focusing her energy. 
Taking the bait, Brute moved in to kick her backside.  
As he kicked, Tyrianna suddenly dodged to her left, spinning. His kick missed, and he staggered off balance. She whipped her extended arms around like a club. Brute tried to jump back, but she was too fast. Her hands smashed into his left side lower ribs. She heard a rewarding crack and oof as the air was knocked from his lungs. He staggered back in shock.


 Tyrianna plays an important role in book two. We hope you fall in love with her as much as we have.


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