[Doc Holliday 02] • Epitaph by Russell, Mary Doria -- Read -- Imperial Library of Trantor

Index

Dedication Epigraph Author’s Note Contents Sing, Goddess, of Ruinous Wrath! For the Sake of Helen: Princess, Prize

Since I went away and left my native land A thousand ships Ruin is strong and swift You will never be lovelier than you are now

Handsome, Woman-Crazed Deceiver

Her luscious neck and ravishing breasts, the brilliance of her eyes A man of many words Hot thy love, hot thy hate

When Strife First Appears, She Is Small

Troy, a city built on riches Cattle can be had for the raiding Know when speech is proper and when silence Few words, but very clear

Women of Troy

Wretched, headstrong girl! You are right to blame me! The peer of murderous mars

Clanless, Lawless, Homeless Men

Beneath the sun and starry skies This reckless courage will destroy you Stay your anger and keep clear from fighting Better for me to die

Portents of Battle

All beguilements and loveliness Black blood flowed from his wounds Men steeped in quarrel and contention His slave girl or his wedded wife

The Ache of Longing Mounted

No joy for us in the sumptuous feast A virtuous man Caress with gentle words I wish I were the wife of a better man My heart is balanced between two paths

Amid Jutting Cliffs and Steep Ravines

Better than night for a thief Rumor went blazing among them Come after me full-tilt and run me down

Thus the Gods Have Spun the Threads

Wouldst thou rob me of my prize? This one is a fool, and will pay for it one day The season of spring came on Bitch that I am—a cause of evil and a curse!

The People of Troy Cried Out in Fear

A seething flood of flame rolled closer Here we will stand our ground! Would that this frailty had afflicted someone else! Ah, if you and I could escape this fray!

Dense the Battle-Haze That Engulfs the Brave

Strife strides across the earth Drunkard! Dog-faced, quivering, deer-hearted coward! Respite in war is all too brief No time for speeches now. ’Tis time to fight! On they strode, like a consuming fire

Payment for My Brother’s Blood

Headlong destruction swings our way Confusion joins the fight What atonement for blood spilt upon the earth? Cut down through their own reckless folly

The Gods Will Deal Death to Those Who Kill

Those left alive after hateful carnage The bravest is hit. The best will die. O, my brother! I have been the death of you! Wretched mortals! They live in grief.

Now There Will Be Killing Until the Score Is Paid

A heart-devouring anger A brutal, indecent slaughter Stir up strength to battle on! I will be called coward and a man of no worth

This Is the Poison of Deep Grief

Who in Future Will Speak Well of You? Walking in Ruin’s Trail

Pile up your riches and your luxury Say the prayers. Heal the wounds. On the sad threshold of old age

Now Let Me Win Noble Renown!

Give the bard his share of honor The stroke of death will not come quickly

For Generations Still Unborn, He Will Live in Song

One generation dies away, another rises up Overpowered by memories, both men gave way to grief

Acknowledgments About the Author Also by Mary Doria Russell Credits Copyright About the Publisher