Table of Contents
Praise for S. M. Stirling
Against the Tide of Years
Fully lives up to the promises made in Island in the Sea of Time. It feels amazinglyoften frighteninglyreal. The research is impeccable, the writing excellent, the characters very strong. I cant wait to find out what happens next.
Harry Turtledove, bestselling author of Guns of the South
Mixing two parts historical fact with one part intelligent extrapolation, S. M. Stirling concocts another exciting and explosive tale of ambition, ingenuity, intrigue, and discovery. Against the Tide of Years is even more compelling than Island in the Sea of Timebut just as much fun.
Jane Lindskold, author of When the Gods Are Silent
Against the Tide of Years confirms what readers of the first book already knew: S. M. Stirling is writing some of the best straight-ahead science fiction the genre has ever seen.
Amazing
Island in the Sea of Time
A perfectly splendid story ... endlessly fascinating ... solidly convincing.
Poul Anderson
A compelling cast of characters ... a fine job of conveying both a sense of loss and hope.
Science Fiction Chronicle
... quite a good book ... definitely a winner.
Aboriginal Science Fiction
Meticulous, imaginative.... Logical, inventive and full of richly imagined characters, this is Stirlings most deeply realized book yet.
Susan Shwartz, author of The Grail of Hearts
Utterly engaging. This is unquestionably Steve Stirlings best work to date, a page-turner that is certain to win the author legions of new readers and fans.
George R. R. Martin, author of A Game of Thrones
One of the best time travel/alternative history stories Ive ever read, period. Stirling combines complex, believable characters, meticulous research, and a fascinating setup to produce a book you wont want toand wont be able toput down. An outstanding piece of work.
Harry Turtledove
The adventure that unfolds, powered by Stirlings impressive stores of knowledge and extraordinary narrative skill, is an enormously entertaining read.
Virtual North Woods Website
To my father, Alfred Bruce Stirling
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to the cadets and staff of the Coast Guard Academy, New London, Connecticut, for their hospitality and interest; special thanks to Professor Faye Ringle of the Academy; and to the officers and crew of Eagle, for the guided tour.
My apologies to her captain for the unspeakable things I did to his cabin.
Wenlock Edge by A. E. Houseman, A Shropshire Lad, 1887, XXI
Excerpts from March of Cambreadth, Heather Alexander, Midsummer, copyright 1997 Sea Fire Productions
Thanks to William Pint and Felicia Dale for permission to quote from their beautiful songs in Hearts of Gold, 1994, Round the Corner, 1997, When I See Winter Return, 1997, Waterbug Records: available at http:// members.aol.com/Pintndale/
And to Tony Goodenough, for permission to use lyrics from Pump Shanty.
Thanks also to Ms. Margarita Booker of Ronald Wharton Rifles, and to Mr. Geoffrey Boothroyd.
My thanks to Bobby Hardenbrook for his help with the website www.av.qnet.com/~fourts/island/island.htm
All errors, omissions, infelicities, and lapses are purely mine.
PROLOGUE
August, 1240 B.C.
August, 10 A.E.Neayoruk, Kingdom of Great Achaea
But Lord Cuddy, why does the interior of this furnace have to open out? Augewas asked. It made the construction much more complex than the earlier ones.
William Jefferson Cuddy, onetime corporal in the United States Marine Corps, onetime machine-tool operator with Seahaven Engineering, and currently ekwetos and Master of Engineers to the High King of Great Achaea, stopped his thoughtful pacing. Production scheduling for something as big as a steel mill was a nightmare, even for this miniaturized antique ... especially when even the executives he had to rely on were mostly ex-peasants who could barely comprehend that on time didnt mean in a while, maybe.
Even if you explain twice about the big hand and the little hand, with diagrams and a boot up the ass, Cuddy thought. A simple technical question was a relief.
Ummmm, he said, racking his brain and looking up. The interior of the furnace was dimly lit by a shaft of light from above, more brightly by the kerosene lamp the slave behind them held. It smelled of rock and fresh brick and mortar, and the special firebrick and calcinated limestone that lined it.
Ah, stuff gets bigger when it gets hot, right?
The Achaean architect nodded.
So when we put the ore and flux and coal in at the top, theyre pretty cold ...
Behind Augewas Cuddy could see the Achaeans son and apprentice Philhippos rolling his eyes, left hand resting proudly on the cased slide rule at his belt, and fought down a grin. The younger Greek was at the stage where you just couldnt believe the ignorance of your old man ... just about the age Cuddy had left home in Milwaukee to enlist in the Crotch with parental curses and a flung beer bottle following him.
Of course, Philhippos had grown up in the new world Cuddy and the other Americans of William Walkers band were making of this Bronze Age kingdom. He really did know a lot more about this stuff than his dad. Hard to remember theyd been here most of a decade now.
The young man spoke: And this coalhe used the English word, there being no equivalent in Mycenaean Greekis it better than charcoal because it bums hotter, or because it is a stonelike ore and can support more weight, or what?
However grimly the telestai might cling to old usage on their baronies, language had grown less formal among the new elite of Great Achaea under the influence of twentieth-century English. Philhipposs father disliked that particular trend; he raised a hand, and the boy added hastily: Lord Cuddy.
Both, and because theres more of it, Cuddy said. Now that weve got the mines up in Istria going, we can ship it down by sea cheaper than burning charcoal up in the hills; and besides, eventually wed run out of trees.
He whistled, and the workers at the top let down the inspection platform. The overlords stepped onto it, and it rose smoothly up to the summit and the heavy iron-coated collar of timbers around it. From there Cuddy could look down on the raw, brawling town of Neayoruk, down to the smoke and thronging masts of the harbor enclosed by a mole running out to an island half a mile from shore, and to the hammered-metal brightness of the Laconian Gulf beyond. Sweat sprang out on his forehead and he turned gratefully to a cooling wind from the water, bringing the tang of salt, coal smoke, the hot metal of the forges whose hearths sent trails of smoke up to the azure Mediterranean sky.
Were on schedule, he said with relief, taking in the activity below with an experienced eye.
That is good, Augewas said. The Wolf Lord will be pleased.
Yeah, Cuddy said, shivering slightly at the thought of William Walker, King of Men. Thats
