Da Vinciâs greatest and most dangerous legacyâ¦
In the midst of a loversâ quarrel on a Venetian bridge, a pair of art thieves loses a priceless, stolen Lorraine cross to the canalâs murky waters. Suspecting a connection between the cross, Joan of Arc and da Vinci, Annja Creedâs former mentor, Roux, sends the archaeologist to oversee the search for the missing artifact. But someone else knows about the crossâ¦knows enough to kill for it.
Despite several vicious attacks during their underwater expedition, Annja and Rouxâs hired diver recovers the cross. But when the diverâs loyalties are called into question and he disappearsâalong with the treasureâAnnja is certain thereâs more to the ancient object than Roux is letting on. She soon discovers the cross is only one piece in an intricate enigmaâa key that, when combined with a series of musical notes, may unlock one of Leonardo da Vinciâs most fantastical inventions. But the price Annja must pay to stop this key from falling into the wrong hands may be her life.
âHave you heard of the devilâs chord, Annja?â
Interesting conversation change. But Annja could go with it. âOf course. It was a tritone of musical notes that the church banned from being played or used in musical scores in the Middle Ages. It was thought to be evil because itâs dissonant.â
âDiabolus in musica,â Roux recited.
âThe devil in music,â Annja translated. âIâm not a musician, but I do know the chord is played quite a bit nowadays. The heavy metal bands pounced on the forbidden motif, liking the evil connotation, but a lot of other musicians have used it, too.â
âItâs not so evil.â
âItâs certainly not worthy of excommunication or death. So what does a bit of music have to do with
a cross that once belonged to Joan of Arc?â
âNothing. And everything.â
Intrigued, Annja propped her elbows on the table, ready for the rest of the story.
Chapter 1
Milan, 1488
The night was young and the tavern stank like a hog barn, which was much preferable to the cart of rotting fish parked outside his studio near the park. Leonardo had sought escape from the stench. The tavernâs atmosphere of soused cheer always sharpened his senses. There was so much to take in and to record.
Upon choosing a seat, heâd sketched a study of the tavern keeperâs face as it had segued through the various stages of reception, duty and amiability. Heâd just finished the resentful sneer the keeper cast toward the boastful gent adorned in rich velvet and Venetian lace.
When heâd spied the tall, lean man with a tankard in hand casting about for a place to sit, Leonardo had invited him to join him. Pleased by the invitation, the man sat across from him at the rough-hewn wood table. He had an open purse and enjoyed the taste of the local ale. And he was very willing to share that appetite with Leonardo.
Leonardo da Vinci sat back against the beam in the center of the tavernâhis usual spotâand produced the notebook he always carried with him
âDo you mind?â he asked the man who had introduced himself as Roux. âI like to record things,â he explained, pointing at the notebook with his red chalk pencil. âWhatever passes before my eyes. People, places, things. Emotions. Designs. Ideas.â
âDonât mind at all.â Roux tilted back the ale stein. The man had a French accent, but his sun-browned skin suggested Spanish heritage, perhaps. Leonardo had not visited Franceâor Spain, for that matterâenough to pick out the various dialects. âBut how does one record emotions? Is it possible to draw them?â
âOh, yes.â
Leonardo sketched the beginning lines to the old manâs face. His long Roman nose showed a commanding presence and intelligence. His skin tone promised he rode horses more often than luxuriating idly in a carriage. His eyebrows were darker than his silver-white hair, drawing attention from the lines that creased at the corners of his eyes.
âI like to capture the human face as a person experiences many emotions,â he explained. âAngst. Worry. Joy. Curiosity. Happiness shows first in the eyes. Drunkenness tends to obliterate the finer details of emotion. And worship. Ah, worship.â
âIâll give you drunkenness after a few more steins.â
The man signaled to the serving wench, and arms loaded with a pitcher and empty tankards, she nodded that sheâd return to their table when she was able.
âI write everything down,â Leonardo added as he swept his hand across the paper. âThere is no order,â he continued. âBut every detail I note engages my thoughts and hopefully inspires me. You see, if I donât put it down on paper, then I canât make room for new ideas. Itâs so full.â He paused to tap his skull. âMy mind. And after Iâve removed one idea, there are always new ones to fill the space.â