The Last Odyssey (Sigma Force #15) - James Rollins Page 0,4
the pontiff.
“Banū Mūsā,” he said, reading the name aloud.
His Holiness nodded, translating the same. “The Sons of Moses.”
Francesco opened his mouth with a question, then closed it, too abashed to speak.
Leonardo answered anyway, turning slightly toward Francesco. “The Sons of Moses were three Persian brothers who lived four centuries before Ismail al-Jazari. Al-Jazari acknowledges them by name in his book for their inspiration. I didn’t think any copies of this work still existed.”
“I don’t understand,” Francesco whispered, drawing closer. “What is this volume?”
Leonardo placed his hand upon the ancient text. “A true wonder. The Book of Ingenious Devices.”
“But . . . ? ” Francesco looked at the neighboring book, the one he had painstakingly acquired.
“Yes,” Leonardo acknowledged, “our esteemed Al-Jazari named his work after this older volume, changing the title only slightly. It’s said these three brothers—the Sons of Moses—spent decades collecting and preserving Greek and Roman texts following the fall of the Roman Empire. Over time these brothers built upon the knowledge found within those texts to craft their own book of inventions.”
The pope joined them at the desk. “But it wasn’t just scientific knowledge that interested these brothers.” The pontiff flipped to the end of the book and pulled free a folio of loose pages. “What do you make of these?”
Leonardo squinted at the yellowed pages and lines of cursive ink and shook his head. “It’s clearly Arabic. But I’m far from fluent. With time, maybe I could—”
The pope’s hand waved dismissively. “I’ve Arab scholars in my employ. They were able to translate the pages. It appears to be the eleventh book of a larger poetic work. The opening lines state ‘When we had got down to the seashore, we drew our ship into the water and got her mast and sails into her.’”
Francesco frowned. Why did that sound familiar?
The pontiff continued, reciting the translation from memory. “‘We also put the sheep on board and took our places, weeping and in great distress of mind. Circe, that great and cunning goddess—’”
Francesco gasped, cutting off the pope, such was his shock.
The name Circe . . . that could only mean one thing.
Leonardo shifted the pages closer and confirmed it. “Are you saying this is a translation of Homer’s Odyssey?”
His Holiness nodded, appearing amused. “Into Arabic, some nine centuries ago.”
If true, Francesco knew this could be the earliest written version of Homer’s poem. He found his voice again. “But why is this chapter here, tucked in an ancient book of Persian mechanical devices?”
“Perhaps for this reason.”
The pope exposed the last page of the folio. An intricate illustration had been hastily inked there. It appeared to be a mechanical map complicated by gears and threaded wires and marked with scrawled Arabic notes. The terrain looked to encompass the breadth of the Mediterranean and beyond. Still, the mechanical map looked incomplete, a work in progress.
“What is it?” Francesco asked.
The pope turned to Leonardo. “It is what I hope you can discover, my dear friend. The translators here could only discern a few hints.”
“Like what?” Leonardo’s eyes shone brightly, the man clearly enraptured by this mystery.
“The first clue.” The pope tapped the Arabic pages of Homer’s Odyssey. “This part of the epic poem tells of Odysseus’s voyage to the Underworld, to the lands of Hades and Persephone, to the Greek version of Hell.”
Francesco frowned, not understanding.
The pope pointed to the illustrated device and explained. “It seems the Sons of Moses were trying to craft a tool to lead them there.” He stared hard at Leonardo. “To the Underworld.”
Leonardo made a scoffing noise. “Preposterous.”
A chill swept through Francesco. “Why would these brothers seek such a place?”
The pope shrugged. “No one knows, but it is worrisome.”
“How so?” Leonardo asked.
The pope faced them, letting him read the sincerity in his eyes, and pointed to the last line below the illustration.
“Because it says here . . . the Sons of Moses found it. They found the entrance to Hell.”
First
The Storm Atlas
The sea is a boundless expanse whereon great ships look like tiny specks; naught but the heavens above and the waters beneath; when calm, the sailor’s heart is broken; when tempestuous, his senses reel. Trust it little. Fear it much. Man at sea is but a worm on a bit of wood, now engulfed, now scared to death.
—AMRU BIN AL-’AS, THE ARAB CONQUEROR OF EGYPT, 640 A.D.
1
June 21, 9:28 A.M. WGST
Sermilik Fjord, Greenland
The sea fog hid the monster ahead.
As the skiff vanished into the ghostly bank, the morning light dimmed to a grim twilight. Even the rumble