Blood Maiden (The City Book 2)

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Media bears the tart juices and lingering flavour of the health-giving citron tree, which if cruel stepdames have ever drugged the cups mixing herbs and baleful spells, comes as help most potent, and from the limbs drives the deadly venom. The tree itself is large, and in looks very like a bay; and a bay it were, did it not fling abroad another scent. Hence comes the war horse which proudly prances over the plain, hence the milk-white herds of the Clitumnus, and the bull, noblest of victims, which, bathed often in its sacred stream, have escorted Roman triumphs to their shrines of the gods.

Here spring is perpetual, and summer extends to months other than her own; twice a year the cows calve, twice a year the trees serve us fruit. Here are no ravening tigers or savage brood of lion; no aconite deceives the wretch who picks it, nor yet, sweeping huge coils along the ground, does the scaly snake with his vast train wind himself into a spiral.

Or tell of her mighty lakes? Shall I tell of her harbours, and the barrier thrown across the Lucrine, and how Ocean clamours aloud in anger, where the Julian waters echo afar as the sea is flung back, and the Tyrrhenian tide pours into the channels of Avernus? This land has also streams of silver and mines of copper to show in her veins, and gold flows profusely in her rivers.

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Hail, land of Saturn, mighty mother of crops, mighty mother of men! For you I attempt a theme that claimed praise and skill in days of old; for you I dare to unseal the sacred springs and through Roman towns to sing the song of Ascra. A token of this is the oleaster, springing up freely in the same space, and the ground strewn with its wild berries. But a rich soil, which rejoices in sweet moisture, a level space thick with herbage and prolific in nutriment such as we often see in the hollow of a mountain valley, for into it from the rocky heights pour the streams, bearing with them fattening mud , land which rises to the south and feeds the fern, that plague of the crooked plough — this land will some day yield you the hardiest of vines, streaming with the rich flood of Bacchus; this is fruitful in the grape, and in the juice we offer from bowls of fold, when the sleek Etruscan has blown his ivory horn beside the altar, and on bellied platters we present the steaming meat of sacrifice.

There the flocks will lack nor limpid springs nor herbage, and all that the herds will crop in the long days the chilly dew will restore in one short night. For as to the hungry gravel of a hilly country, it scarce serves the bees with lowly spurge and rosemary; and the rough tufa and the chalk that black water snakes have eaten out betoken that no other lands give serpents food so sweet, or furnish such winding coverts. But if a soil exhales thin mists and curling vapours, if it drinks in moisture and throws it off again at will, if it always clothes itself in the verdure of its own grass, and harms not the steel with scurf and salt rust, that is the one to wreathe your elms in joyous vines, the one to be rich in oil of olive, the one you will find, as you till, to be indulgent to cattle and submissive to the crooked share.

Such is the soil rich Capua ploughs, and the coast near the Vesuvian ridge, and Clanius, unkindly to forlorn Acerrae. If you shall ask whether a soil be light or closer than is the wont — for one is friendly to corn, the other to the vine; the closer to Ceres, all the lightest to Lyaeus — you must first look out a place and bid a pit be sunk deep in the solid ground, then put all the earth back again, and tread the earth level at the top.

If it fall short, this farm land will be light, and better suited for the herd and gracious vine; but if it shows that it cannot return to its place, and if there is earth to spare when the pit is filled, the soil is stiff: look for reluctant clods and stiffness of ridge, and have strong oxen break your ground.

By Sir Thomas Malory

As for salty land, the kind called bitter unfruitful it is for the crops and mellows not in ploughing; it preserves not for the vine its lineage, or for apples their fame , it will allow this test: pull down from the smoky roof your close-woven wicker baskets and wine strainers: in these let that sorry soil, mixed with fresh spring water, be pressed in to the brim. Again, richness of soil we learn in this way only: never does it crumble when worked in the hands, but like pitch grows sticky in the fingers when held.

A most soil rears taller grass and is of itself unduly prolific.

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Not mine be that over-fruitful soil, and may it not show itself too strong when the ears are young! A heavy soil betrays itself silently by its own weight; so dies a light one. It is easy for the eye to learn at once a black soil and the hue of any kind.

In Argentina, a Museum Unveils a Long-Frozen Maiden

But to detect the villainous cold is hard; only pitch pines or baleful yews and black ivy sometimes reveal its traces. Fields of crumbing soil are the best; to this the winds see, the chill frosts, and the stout delver, who loosens and stirs the acres. But men whose watchful care nothing escapes first seek out like plots — one where the crop may be nursed in infancy for its supporting trees, and one to which it may be moved anon when planted out, lest the nurslings should fail to recognize the mother suddenly changed.

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Nay, the print on the bark of the trees the quarter of the sky each faced, so as to restore the position in which they stood, the same side bearing the southern heat and the same back turned to the north pole; so strong is habit in tender years. If it is rich level ground you lay out, plant close; in close-planted soil not less fertile is the wine god. But if it is a soil of rising mounds and sloping hills, give the ranks room; yet none the less, when the trees are set, let all the paths, with clear-cut line, square to a nicety.

As oft, in mighty warfare, when the legion deploys its companies in long array and the column halts on the open plain, when the lines are drawn out, and far and wide all the land ripples with the gleam of steel, not yet is the grim conflict joined, but the war god wanders in doubt between the hosts; so let all your vineyard be meted out in even and uniform paths, not merely that the view may fed an idle fancy, but because only thus will the earth give equal strength to all, and the boughs be able to reach forth into free air.

I should venture to entrust a vine even to a shallow furrow, but deeper and far within the earth is sunk the supporting tree, above all the great oak, which strikes its roots down towards the nether pit as far as it lifts its top to the airs of heaven. Hence no winter storms, no blasts or rains, uproot it; unmoved it abides, and many generations, many ages of men it outlives, letting them roll by while it endures.

Stout limbs, too, and arms it stretches far, this side and that, itself in the centre upholding a mass of shade. For oft from thoughtless shepherds falls a spark, which lurking at first unseen under the rich bark, fastens on the trunk, and, gliding to the leaves aloft, sends to heaven a mighty roar; then, running on, reigns supreme among all the boughs and high treetops, wrapping all the grove in fire, and belching skyward black clouds of thick pitchy darkness; most of all, if a tempest from above has swooped down upon the woods, and a favouring wind masses the flames.

Then winter grips the land with frost, and when the plant is set suffers it not to fasten its frozen root in the earth. Spring it is that clothes the glades and forests with leaves, in spring the soil swells and carves the vital seed. Then does Heaven, sovereign father, descend in fruitful showers into the womb of his joyful consort and, mightily mingling with her mighty frame, gives life to every embryo within.

Such days as these, I can imagine well, shone at the dawn of the infant world and took no different course: springtime it was, the whole wide world was keeping spring, and the east winds spared their icy blasts: then the first cattle drank in the light, the earthborn race of men reared its head from the stony plains, and the woods were stocked with game, the firmament with stars.

And, ere now, some have been known to overly them with stones and jars of heavy weight, thus shielding them against pelting showers, and against the time when the sultry Dog Star splits the fields that gape with thirst. Later, when they have shot up and their stout stems have now clasped the elms, then strip their locks and clip their arms — before they shrink from the knife — then at last set up an iron sway and check the flowing branches.

No cold, stiff with hoar frost, no summer heat, brooding heavily over parched crags, has done it such harm as the flocks and the venom of their sharp tooth, and the scar impressed on the deep-gnawed stem. For no other crime is it that a goat is lain to Bacchus at every altar, and the olden plays enter on the stage; for this the sons of Theseus set up prizes for wit in their villages and at the crossways, and gaily danced in the soft meadows on oiled goatskins.

Hence every vineyard ripens in generous increase; fullness comes to hollow valleys and deep glades, and every spot towards which the god has turned his comely face. Be the first to dig the ground, first to bear away and fire the prunings, first to carry the poles under cover: be the last to reap.

Twice the shade thickens on the vines; twice weeds cover the vineyard with thronging briars.

After this mode nurture the plump olive, favoured of Peace. Cattle browse on the cytisus, the high wood yields pine brands, the fires of night are fed and pour forth light. And can men be slow to plan and bestow care? Why need I pursue greater themes? The willows and lowly broom — they either yield leafage for he sheep or shade for the shepherd, a fence for the crops and food for honey. And what joy it is to gaze on Cytorus waving with boxwood, and on groves of Narycian pitch! What joy to view fields that owe no dept to the harrow, none to the care of man!

Even the barren woods on Caucasian peaks, which angry eastern gales ever toss and tear, yield products, each after its kind, yield useful timber, pines for ships, cedars and cypresses for houses. From these the farmers turn spokes for wheels, or drums for their wains; from these they lay broad keels for boats. So, too, smooth lindens and the box, polished by the lathe, take shape and are hollowed by the sharp steel. So, too, the light alder, launched upon the Po, swims the raging stream; so, too, the bees hive their swarms in the hollow cork-trees, and the heart of a rotting ilex.

What boon of equal note have the gifts of Bacchus yielded? Bacchus has even given occasion for offence. It was he who quelled in death the maddened Centaurs, Rhoetus, and Pholus, and Hylaeus, as he aimed his massive flagon at the Lapiths. For them, far from the clash of arms, most righteous Earth, unbidden, pours forth from her soil an easy sustenance. The peace of broad domains, caverns, and natural lakes, and cool vales, the lowing of oxen, and soft slumbers beneath the trees — all are theirs.

They have woodland glades and the haunts of game; a youth hardened to toil and inured to scanty fare; worship of gods and reverence for age; among them, as she departed from the earth, Justice left the last imprint of her feet. But if the chill blood about my heart bar me from reaching those realms of nature, let my delight be the country, and the running streams amid the dells — may I love the waters and the woods, though I be unknown to fame. O for those plains, and Spercheus, and Taygetus, where Spartan girls hold Bacchic rites!

A computerized climate control system replicates mountaintop conditions inside the case — low oxygen, humidity and pressure, and a temperature of 0 degrees Fahrenheit. Miremont said. The room holding La Doncella is dimly lighted, and the case itself is dark; visitors must turn on a light to see her.

You can still see the other parts of the exhibit. View all New York Times newsletters. He designed the lighting partly in hope of avoiding further offense to people who find it disturbing that the children, part of a religious ritual, were taken from the mountaintop shrine. Whatever the intention, the effect is stunning. Late in August, before the exhibit opened, Dr. Miremont showed visitors La Doncella. At a touch of the button, she seemed to materialize from the darkness, sitting cross-legged in her brown dress and striped sandals, bits of coca leaf still clinging to her upper lip, her long hair woven into many fine braids, a crease in one cheek where it leaned against her shawl as she slept.

One of the children, a 6-year-old girl, had been struck by lightning sometime after she died, resulting in burns on her face, upper body and clothing. She and the boy, who was 7, had slightly elongated skulls, created deliberately by head wrappings — a sign of high social status, possibly even royalty.

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Scientists worked with the bodies in a special laboratory where the temperature of the entire lab could be dropped to 0 degrees Fahrenheit, and the mummies were never exposed to higher temperatures for more than 20 minutes at a time, to preventing thawing. DNA tests revealed that the children were unrelated, and CT scans showed that they were well nourished and had no broken bones or other injuries. La Doncella apparently had sinusitis , as well as a lung condition called bronchiolitis obliterans, possibly the result of an infection.

The other side says these people came from a culture still alive, and a holy place on the mountain. Some regard the exhibit as they would a church, Dr.

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