You could say so, maybe.
Its the next blockbuster thriller from the ever-prolific Rollins, a no.
1New York Timesbest-seller who most recently publishedCruciblethis past January.
Credit: Courtesy James Rollins
EW has an exclusive first look atThe Last Odyssey.
The ships hold contains a collection of even older artifacts tools of war dating back to the Bronze Age.
Once activated, the moving globe traces the path of Odysseus famous ship as it sailed away from Troy.
Harper Collins
The map indicates that this subterranean world is called Tartarus, the Greek name for Hell.
The macabre decoration stood spiked atop the table of his studio, perfectly lit by the mornings brightness.
In fact, he had chosen this apartment at the villa Belvedere due to this wonderful light.
The house stood within the Vatican, on grounds considered holy.
Still, without a tremor of hesitation, he expertly dissected the skin off the dead girls cheek.
The poor lass had died before her seventeenth birthday.
A tragedy, but one that nonetheless made her an excellent specimen.
He paused only to scratch at a parchment, recording each movement with deft strokes of his left hand.
Without his subject here, he had to proceed from memory.
For the moment, he ignored the fall of her painted tresses, the drape of her gown.
Satisfied, he stepped back.
Since then, he had carried her unfinished portrait with him: from Florence to Milan to Rome.
Even still, he was not ready to let her go.
Still, it mattered not.
Instead, he met those painted eyes staring back at him.
Over the years, with every bit of knowledge gained, Ive made you all the more beautiful.
And he was not done yet.
The door to his studio opened behind him.
His fingers tightened on his brush in irritation.
Only the soft, apologetic voice of his apprentice dimmed his frustration.
Master Leonardo, Francesco said, Ive gathered all you requested in the palace library.
He sighed, set down his brush, and turned his back on his Lisa once again.
The mans eyes widened, his face paled, but he refrained from commenting.
Quit gaping, Francesco.
Surely by now such sights should not unnerve you.
He donned his cloak and headed toward the door.
Francesco nodded and followed his master out the door.
At last, with his nose burning from the cold, he and Francesco reached the towering Apostolic Palace.
Its chapel ceiling had recently been painted by that damnable Michelangelo.
Irritation at this thought warmed away the winters chill.
Last year, Leonardo had snuck into the chapel, well after midnight, armed with a lamp.
He had studied the young mans work in secret, refusing to give Michelangelo the satisfaction of his appreciation.
He remembered craning his neck, awed by the ceiling.
He had taken several notes, drawing what knowledge he could from Michelangelos handiwork.
He stomped up the palace stairs, nodded to the posted guards, and shoved his way inside.
Time was running short.
A letter had accompanied this odd demand.
It seemed the kingwho knew of Leonardos talentwanted him to produce a great work to commemorate the French victory.
Do you truly think you might design such a golden artifice?
Leonardo glanced over to the young man.
Is that doubt I hear in your voice, Francesco?
Do you question my ingenuity?
The young man stammered, his cheeks going crimson.
of course not, master.
Good, because theres enough doubt inside me.
Arrogance only carries one so far.
Great works are born of equal parts divine brilliance and earthly humbleness.
Francesco lifted a brow.
The boy knew him well.
Its best to show arrogance to the public.
To convince the world at large of your confidence in all endeavors.
That is when you should know your truest self.
One must be humble enough to recognize ones limitations, to know when further knowledge is needed.
He remembered gawking up at Michelangelos lamplit ceiling and what the sight 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.
**
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