Argo (Blades of Bronze Book One) by Mark Knowles.
Published 11th November 2021 in ebook and 3rd March 2022 in paperback, by Aries.
From the cover of the book:
He has come to take what is yours...
Iolkos, Thessaly. 1230 BC. King Pelias has grown paranoid, tormented by his murderous past and a prophecy of the man who will one day destroy him.
When a stranger arrives to compete in the Games of Poseidon, Pelias is horrified, for this young man should never have grown to manhood. He is Jason, Pelias' nephew, who survived his uncle's assassins as a child. Now Jason wants his revenge – and the kingdom.
But Pelias is cunning as well as powerful. He gives his foe an impossible challenge: to claim the throne, Jason must first steal the fabled Golden Fleece of Colchis.
Jason assembles a band of Greece's finest warriors. They are the Argonauts, named for their trusty ship. But even with these mighty allies, Jason will have to overcome the brutal challenges hurled his way. His mission and many lives depend on his wits – and his sword.
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Legend tells that one stormy night, in the Month of the Goddess 1250 BC, a son was born to Queen Alcimede and King Aeson of Iolkos - the same night the King's half-brother Pelias attacked the palace and stole the kingdom away. His mother named him Jason, and having tricked Pelias' men into thinking he was stillborn, ensured he was smuggled away under the cover of darkness to be raised in secrecy on Mount Pelion - hoping that one day he would return to claim his birthright.
Twenty years later, the usurper King Pelias is plagued by dreams that someone wearing a single shoe will appear and bring about his destruction, so when a young man arrives to compete in the Games of Poseidon having lost a sandal in the river, he is terrified that the prophecy is about to come true. Crafty Pelias realises that this young man is in fact his nephew Jason, apparently returned from the dead, and he comes up with a plan to get him out of the way by assuring him that he will consider his claim to the throne, if he first proves his worth by undertaking a quest to obtain the fabled Golden Fleece of Colchis.
Jason, newly in possession of his true identity and keen to avenge his parents, gathers a band of mighty warriors to help him in his quest. They set sail aboard a ship called the Argo, steadfast in their belief that they will prevail in their task and return to Iolkos triumphant. But this is a voyage steeped in danger, and not all of our brave Argonauts may survive the trials ahead.
Anyone lucky enough to grow up with the spectacular Ray Harryhausen film of heroes, gods and monsters, Jason and the Argonauts, will be familiar with the story of Jason's quest for the Golden Fleece, although in truth, there is no one definitive version of the myth to draw upon.
Intriguingly, rather that channelling the spirit of Ray Harryhausen in Argo, the first book of the brand new series Blades of Bronze, historian Mark Knowles takes a different approach with his retelling of the story of Jason and the Argonauts. Here we encounter a crew of entirely mortal adventurers, albeit with names we might recognise from legend, pitting their wits and physical strength against real world trials, which although unexpected, is every bit as compelling as a story spun from the pages of a Greek myth.
Cleverly, Knowles incorporates episodes from the myth of the Golden Fleece, as the Argonauts undergo their voyage into the Black Sea, with our heroes taking the stage as mortals motivated not by powerful magic, but by all too human emotions - with revenge, desire, and greed driving most of the action. It all works very well indeed, and I thoroughly enjoyed how Knowles bends the more fantastical elements of the story into realistic scenarios from the world of men, all the way up to the Golden Fleece itself - which our brave band track down at the end of the story, before making off with their treasure.
The Argonauts come across as a rag-tag collection of outsiders, often haunted by loss, and the need to make amends for their pasts, and curiously it is their vulnerabilities that form them into really engaging characters. I enjoyed how their relationships develop over the course of the voyage, and there is a lot of heart and humour in their interactions. Equally there are some excellent villains in this nicely paced tale full of adventure to make your gall rise, and to create many heart-thumping moments of tension. And I take my hat off to Knowles for writing Medea as an interesting character with depth, and just the right amount of light and shade to bide well for what lies ahead in the story beyond this first book.
There is plenty of sweeping saga left to absorb, for now the Argonauts must make their way home, and I am looking forward to whatever Knowles has in store for them. Book two, Jason, awaits...
Argo is available to buy now in paperback and ebook formats.
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Jason (Blades of Bronze Book Two) by Mark Knowles.
Published in ebook on 4th August 2022, and paperback 2nd March 2023, by Aries.
From the cover of the book:
They may have won the prize, but will any of them make it home alive?Jason has fulfilled the mission set him by his uncle, the scheming King Pelias of Iolkos: he and the Argonauts have won the fabled Golden Fleece of Colchis. Jason dreams of glory – of taking his uncle's throne, rightfully his – and, like his warrior shipmates, of home.
But it is not only Pelias who wishes Jason ill. Before the Argonauts can make it back to Iolkos, they must contend with a legion of foes who would see them dead – and a web of allies who are not quite what they seem.
Jason and his warriors must outwit the recondite Circe and the spies of mighty Troy, overcome hostile tribes beyond the Danube, and sail the troubled waters of the Archipelagos, where the Sirens wait to snare unwary seafarers.
Yet Jason's perils are only beginning, for he will soon discover that a truer evil lies closer to home...
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To celebrate the cover reveal for this second thrilling adventure in the Blades of Bronze series, it is my pleasure to bring you an introduction from author Mark Knowles, and an extract from the beginning of Jason!
*****
Introduction to Jason
by Mark Knowles
Getting Argo home in the process of writing JASON was great fun. In fact, once I'd got the route straight in my head, it gave me the most joy I'll probably ever have in writing a story. It presented an opportunity to weave together as many strands of myth as I could without–I hope–stretching credibility.
And what more could an unashamed Classics geek want? JASON features an all-star ancient Greek cast: Circe, Talos, the Sirens, King Minos, Ariadne, the Minotaur, and the Oracle, ranging over a vast landscape from as far north as the Danube to Crete in the south. ‘Sprouting wings and flying home would have been a more useful suggestion!’ So says Idas, a thorn in Jason’s side, as options are discussed to outwit the ships blockading the Black Sea straits. His comments are apposite when looking at the wackier ancient suggestions for the return leg of Jason’s voyage. In one surviving version of the myth, we see Argo traversing the Sahara; in another, sailing to Greece via Scandinavia.
Needless to say, all these routes (but one) are physically impossible. But what an opportunity for a writer to stretch the imagination! I even discovered a lost island when researching the route. An old map of the Anatolian coastline based on a Roman geographer's work showed an island just off the Thracian coast (modern day Bulgaria), which some natural disaster or other seems to have swallowed in the Middle Ages. As soon as I saw it, I had to have it for Circe's mysterious island of Aea.
This sums up the spirit in which JASON was written. I hope, in joining this epic voyage, you make some discoveries of your own.
*****
1
The little altar by the Grove of Ares had never been attended by so many men in all the centuries of its existence. None had worship on their mind, only revenge. Melanion the Black, favoured prince of Colchis, looked on as the other five boats of the flotilla came to rest by the loamy bank of the River Phasis, a few miles upstream from the delta. Concealed within his cloak, his long nails tapped against the pommel of his sword. His eyes came to rest upon three men whom he recognised as they disembarked in a pool of moonlight, and he beckoned them over impatiently.
Their relief that they had not been singled out for their indifferent rowing was short-lived. He looked from one to the other without blinking, making icicles run along their spines.
‘Go through the grove. I need to know exactly what is inside the temple. Report back to me here.’
‘Your Highness, they...’ The trio exchanged nervous looks. ‘The word is that the temple is guarded by an unsleeping serpent. And aren’t there guards?’
Melanion had already turned his back upon them and now he shot them a look of irritation.
He pulled a golden signet ring from his little finger and pressed it into the man’s palm. ‘Use this. Go.’
The second man coughed politely. ‘And the serpent?’
‘Rumours.’ He clicked his fingers at the captain of his vessel and pointed towards one of the torches affixed to the stern. ‘One each for them. Now go!’
**
The three knew each other by name – Aea was small enough that most citizens
recognised every face well enough – but they did not exchange words until they were engulfed by the shadows of the woods and, even then, it was in hushed voices.
‘Have you... has he ever had reason to be displeased with you before?’ asked the eldest.
‘Never,’ said the curly-haired man with a pointed chin and beady eyes.
‘He chided me once.’
They looked askance at the young drover, fair-haired and freckled. The eldest frowned as he stepped over a mossy log. ‘Aren’t you a friend of his brother?’
‘Phrontis, yes. I stumbled into him once when Phrontis and I were wrestling; trod on his foot. He shoved me to the floor, called me something like “peasant”, didn’t even break his stride... I don’t think he ever forgave me. I never forgot.’
The eldest scratched his belly. ‘Safe to say he didn’t choose us for a task of any honour.’
All around them, creatures stirred and called in warning but none crossed their path, and then the forest petered out and the walls of the sacred compound emerged from the gloom.
Were it not for the dying torches – little more than floating tips of amber – they would have missed the entrance altogether.
‘We’re here, come on.’
After just a few steps, the torchlight brushed over the sprawling forms of the two guards.
The shattered bull mask of one was face down, whilst the other lolled against the boundary wall with his legs apart. Their clothes, their skin, the grass... it was all thick with cloying blood.
‘Gods on earth!’
‘What has happened here?’
‘An idiotic question.’ The three spun around in shock. Melanion was striding towards them out of the woods. ‘Get in there and report back to me, if you want to avoid the same fate.’ The prince’s eyes lingered on the drover for a moment longer than the others. ‘Run!’
They hesitated, mouths working but no sounds emerging. The thumb tapping on the hilt of his sword and the dark look in his eyes made their minds up for them. With faltering bows, they entered the gate.
**
Melanion did not have to wait long. An ear-curdling shriek faded into the night. He sensed rather than heard the flurry of activity in the aftermath of the first snakebite. Empty words of reassurance. The jolt of blind panic.
Will two be enough?
He did not want to send any more. It would look bad if more than three failed to return and none of the others on his galley were quite so obviously ill-suited or ill at ease with the business of fighting. And the boy, the youngest of the trio... There was something about his furtive eyes and narrow shoulders. He was a weakling. A runt.
Why did his brother enjoy wasting his time with him?
There was a faint disturbance and he anticipated the sound of hastening footsteps but... nothing. A breath of wind and leaves, perhaps.
Melanion’s thoughts turned to what he would do to the Achaeans when he finally laid hands upon them. Jason would know what it was to feel pain and fear – true pain and true fear – soon enough. He would flay him alive, as was the Colchian way, and he wondered what his grandfather Aeetes had been thinking with the fiasco of the ploughing and the bulls: it was embarrassing. Maybe the old king was losing his touch. Maybe he should just step aside.
But then the stark images of the fallen Sirakians in the halls and corridors of the palace flashed before his eyes. Contorted, broken, bloodied, some still rasping with breath. The most feared warriors in the Caucasus, slaughtered to a man. By the very men who had rescued him – and his brothers – from suffocation in that stifling, reeking hut. The pirates who had saved his life and killed his abductors were the very dogs who had sailed on to Colchis and shamed his family and impugned his honour.
The gruesome tableau of slain Sirakian tribesmen made his stomach turn, and that told him he was still a novice in the business of murder.
The Argonauts were not.
The sound of panting and soft pounding drew him from his thoughts. A few seconds later, the drover burst from the gates, chest heaving, sweat sheening his forehead.
‘Well?’
The boy was unable to speak. Terror had possessed his face.
‘Come on now,’ he murmured. ‘Where are the other two?’
‘Dead... They’re dead... my lord.’
The prince feigned shock. ‘Dead?’
‘I left one... breathing his last... There are snakes, vipers and the like, everywhere!’
‘Goodness! So the tale of the unsleeping serpent is... what, a myth?’
The drover straightened whilst his breathing subsided. He was about to answer but then realised that the prince was mocking him. Melanion saw a tendon twitch in his jaw. ‘You, at least, have some talent for avoiding death. The temple... What did you see?’
‘I saw... I saw the Golden Fleece, my lord! Draped over the branches of a twisted tree. What a thing! It’s safe, though, and I...’
‘The fleece: you are quite sure there was one?’ Melanion’s eyes hardened and the boy blinked in confusion.
‘Er... Yes... the fleece! I... it was there... People in Aea say that it doesn’t exist, that the temple is just an empty ruin. But now...’
‘This presents a problem.’
‘It... I’m sorry, my lord, I’m confused. Is there more than one? Did I do something wrong?’
Melanion pursed his lips as he considered what he had already divulged. The contents – the real contents – of the temple were a closely guarded secret, known only by its guardians and the Council of Six. ‘If I share a secret, you must promise that you will take it to your grave.’
‘Of course, my lord.’
‘There are – and have been – many fleeces, not just one. That is the myth. The Achaean pirates took two and left one. This is a grave worry, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know what to say...’
‘My father once told me that an oracle prophesied to him that he, his family and Aea would prosper as long as a fleece never leaves his kingdom. He made us swear to keep this a secret.
Now do you understand the magnitude of the problem?’
The boy was still processing this when Melanion discreetly withdrew a small ivory-handled blade, little larger than a scalpel but just as sharp, and plunged it into the boy’s heart. He made a sharp intake of breath and looked back at him in shock. ‘You kept your promise. I must keep mine. Aea depends upon it.’
The boy’s eyes were still open, their vital light fading, as he slipped to the floor and breathed his last. The prince stood there for a few moments longer, swaying on the spot, mesmerised.
He noticed that the hand holding the knife was shaking. ‘Stop looking at me like that.’ He rolled the boy onto his side, tucked away the blade and sprinted for the forest.
*****
My review of Jason coming soon...
Thank you to Aries for sending me a paperback copy of Argo, and an ebook of Jason, in return for an honest review, and for inviting me to be part of this blog tour.
About the author:
Mark Knowles took degrees in Classics and Management Studies at Downing College, Cambridge.
After a decade working as a frontline officer and supervisor within the Metropolitan Police Service, he became Head of Classics at a school in Harrogate.
He is a particular fan of experimental archaeology and rowed on the reconstructed ancient Athenian trireme Olympias during its last sea trials in Greece in 1994.
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