The Little Beauty of the Beauties E-Book

alastair macleod

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

"The Galicians were decidedly masculine and brim full of energy and walked with the confidence of athletes. Each day they practiced the arts of war in the palace grounds where they were watched with admiration from the balconies.
Their leader Gaythelos was a handsome man, a round face with a fine nose in proportion to his face, dark eyebrows over blue eyes, a rarity in Egypt, and his hair long, braided then swept back and held by a silver clasp.
Nefer’neferure, like the other daughters of the Pharaoh had admired him greatly"

Leseprobe

Alastair Macleod

The Little Beauty of the Beauties

Scota

How Scotland got its name. Scotia's Grave or Scota's grave is an area just south of Tralee in County Kerry beside the Finglas rivulet. The stone marks what is reputed to be the grave of Scota, a daughter of an Egyptian Pharaoh. The traditional name of the location is Glenn Scoithin, "Vale of the Little Flower." Curiously the most certain aspects of this story are to be found the furthest back, for the Egyptians kept accurate records on papyri, on stone monuments and in tombs. From Spain to Erin to Scotland the story continues in legend, folklore and Irish annals. BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

Scota; Little Beauty of the Beauties

The scene is Egypt in 1367 BC, the Pharaoh Amenhotep the III, the magnificent, has died after a successful 37 year reign.

The old Pharaoh, having lived for a long time, a full ninety two years, was dying.

His death was slow, unlike the quick executions, heart attacks, three day plague deaths, or battle deaths of his subjects.

In vigil by his bedside sat his favourite granddaughter, Nefer’neferure, beauty of the beauties of Ra, princess of the Upper Nile.

The Pharaoh’s death took all of 13 days in which he at first was barely conscious then slid into a deep coma from which he never awoke. He could neither eat nor drink. His breath was hurried and gasping, his face, twisted at first, became pale and serene. Images of the afterlife were placed at his head. Musical prayers were played to him through the sacred harp.

By the fourth day his breath was foul and his arms blotched, yet they maintained him in dignity. His stick like body was regularly washed and crisp linen sheets put on the bed, his mouth sweetened, his lips that would never speak again, moistened gently.