title: Odyssey of an Etruscan Noblewoman
author:  Rosalind Burgundy 
description: ...a universal tale of a woman's strengths, weaknesses and the will to survive, as timely today as centuries ago. -- <i>Charles K. South Palm Beach, FL</i><br /><br />A real page-turner! Clever and unexpected dilemmas. I wholeheartedly recommend this book! -- <i>E.R. Palm Beach FL</i><br /><br />A wonderful narrative with realistic characters, filled with excitement and surprises to satisfy any reader--a well-written book. -- <i>The Italian American Press, February 2004, Ralph Ferraro, Director</i><br /><br />Burgundy's passion for Etruscan history has led her on a mysterious and personal journey back in time--a fantastic adventure. -- <i>M.Kadin, Cape Cod, MA</i><br /><br />Larthia is the female Indiana Jones of the ancient world for all the trouble she gets into! -- <em>R.C. Twain Harte, CA<br /><br /></em><span id="span_contact_Locked_AHU9NCZAZUWCX" style="display: inline;">"The desire to be independent and live one's own life fueled some women when such an idea was a taboo. "Odyssey of an Etruscan Noblewoman" is a historical novel following ambitious Larthia as she follows her path through the ancient world to go against the fate of a woman at the time, becoming a scribe and traveling the known world, facing endless adversity and the drive for life. "Odyssey of an Etruscan Noblewoman" is a riveting novel of the ancient world. Recommended."</span> <em>~MidWest Book Review</em>
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  ### CHAPTER I
  
  
  #### CARTHORIS AND THUVIA
  
  
  Upon a massive bench of polished ersite beneath the gorgeous blooms of a giant
  pimalia a woman sat. Her shapely, sandalled foot tapped impatiently upon the
  jewel–strewn walk that wound beneath the stately sorapus trees across the
  scarlet sward of the royal gardens of Thuvan Dihn, Jeddak of Ptarth, as a
  dark–haired, red–skinned warrior bent low toward her, whispering heated words
  close to her ear.
  
  
  "Ah, Thuvia of Ptarth," he cried, "you are cold even before the fiery blasts
  of my consuming love! No harder than your heart, nor colder is the hard, cold
  ersite of this thrice happy bench which supports your divine and fadeless
  form! Tell me, O Thuvia of Ptarth, that I may still hope—that though you do
  not love me now, yet some day, some day, my princess, I—"
  
  
  The girl sprang to her feet with an exclamation of surprise and displeasure.
  Her queenly head was poised haughtily upon her smooth red shoulders. Her dark
  eyes looked angrily into tho