The Last Odyssey (Sigma Force #15) - James Rollins Page 0,3
is when you should know your truest self. One must be humble enough to recognize one’s limitations, to know when further knowledge is needed.” He remembered gawking up at Michelangelo’s lamplit ceiling and what it had taught him. “That is where true genius begins. Armed with enough knowledge and ingenuity, a man can do anything.”
He hurried toward the library, ready to prove that statement.
10:02 A.M.
Let me have done well.
Francesco held the door open for his master, then followed Leonardo into the papal library. He prayed his efforts did not disappoint the great man.
As he trailed his mentor, the musty smell of old leather and moldering pages greeted their entry to the main vault. Wood shelves climbed to the rafters, interspersed with the pale ghosts of marble statues. Ahead, a lone lamp brightened a wide desk, neatly stacked with books, loose papers, even a pyramid of scrolls.
Leonardo crossed to the desk. “You certainly have been busy, Francesco.”
“I did my best,” he sighed. “That Arab volume you wanted proved especially difficult to track down.”
Leonardo glanced back, his brows raised. “You found it?”
With a measure of pride, Francesco pointed to the thick tome at the center of the gathered material. While its leather cover was worn and blackened with age, the gilt lettering of the title remained bright, shining in the lamp’s glow. The writing flowed in Arabic, lettered quite beautifully.
Leonardo’s finger hovered over the title—كتاب في معرفة الحيل الهندسية—and read it aloud. “Kitab fi ma'rifat al-hiyal al-handasiya.”
Francesco translated it in a hushed voice. “The Book of Knowledge of Ingenious Mechanical Devices.”
“It was written two centuries ago,” Leonardo said. “Can you imagine such a time, the golden age of Islam, when science and learning were held in the highest regard?”
“I would love to travel to such places sometime.”
“Ah, my dear Francesco, you are too late. Those lands have fallen into darkness, rife with wars, savage in their ignorance. You would not enjoy it.” His fingers came to rest atop the cover. “Thankfully, its ancient knowledge was preserved.”
Leonardo opened the book, parting it at a random page. The black ink flowed in a river of Arabic around an illuminated drawing of a fountain, with water streaming from the beak of a peacock into a complicated contraption of gears and pulleys. Francesco knew the remainder of the book was full of such illustrations of other devices, many of them automatons like the French king wanted his master to design.
“The author was Ismail al-Jazari,” Leonardo said. “A brilliant artist and the chief engineer for the Artuklu Palace. I suspect there is much I can learn from this book to help me design the French king’s golden lion.”
A new voice rose behind them. “Perhaps there is another book that will also help you.”
Leonardo and Francesco both turned to the library door that they had inadvertently left ajar. A short but robust figure stood at the entrance. His simple white cassock and skullcap shone in the wan light. With the alacrity of youth, Francesco dropped to one knee and bowed his head. Leonardo barely managed to crouch before the figure spoke again.
“Enough of that. Stand, you two.”
Francesco straightened but kept his head bowed. “Your Holiness.”
Pope Leo X crossed toward them, abandoning a pair of guards at the door. He cradled a thick book in his arms. “I heard about your apprentice rooting through our libraries. And the purpose behind his search. It seems you intend to do your best to please our new guest to the north.”
“I’ve heard King François can be quite demanding,” Leonardo admitted.
“And militant,” the pope added pointedly. “A tendency I’d prefer he kept to the north. Which means not disappointing his royal highness lest he consider venturing farther south with his soldiers. To avoid that, I thought I’d lend the services of my own staff to your pursuit.”
Pope Leo stepped to the table and placed the heavy volume down. “This was found within the Holy Scrinium.”
Francesco stiffened in surprise. The Holy Scrinium was the private library of the popes, said to contain amazing volumes, both religious and otherwise, dating back to the founding of Christendom.
“This was acquired during the First Crusade,” the pontiff explained as he set the book on the desk. “A Persian volume of mechanical devices from the ninth century of our Lord. I thought it might be of use, much like the volume your apprentice obtained.”
Plainly curious, Leonardo opened the book’s nondescript cover, its outer title long worn away. Inside, he discovered the name of the author and turned sharply to