DA VINCIS CLOCK

Thrills, Adventures and Leonardos Time Travel in the Fifteenth Century A NOVEL BY BUD SELIGSON

Co-Written by: Jerry Bloom Fred Mesirov Jerry Tirsch Cover Design by Mario Jason

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Bud Seligson, who was born in Chicago, Illinois, has been a ghost writer to many of the major, well-known writers of todays fiction and science fiction. He is also well known in Hollywood as a story doctor to many studios. The Da Vincis Clock manuscript has been a work in progress for sixteen years. Co-writers Jerry Bloom, Fred Mesirov and Jerry Tirsch have contributed to the writing of the novel throughout the entire process. Bud Seligson lives in Los Angeles with his wife, Diane, who is his co-writer and sometime editor.

DEDICATIONS I am dedicating Davincis Clock to my wonderful wife, Diane, who has stood by me throughout this long and complicated process. I am also dedicating Davincis Clock to my dear friend, supporter and producer, Mario Jason. He has inspired us with his exuberance, patience and understanding. We could not have finished this novel without him. Many years ago, three guys had a vision and together the tales of the Young Leonardo DaVinci became alive. To my fellow Road Warriors, Jerry Bloom and Fred Mesirov, I give my love and deepest respect. Without your creative ideas, completion would never have happened.

LES GRANDES HOMMES OUT LIEURS ENEMIS GREAT MEN HAVE GREAT ENEMIES LEONARDO DA VINCI

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. NAMES, CHARACTERS, PLACES AND INCIDENTS ARE EITHER THE PRODUCT OF THE AUTHORS IMAGINATION OR ARE USED FICTITIOUSLY AND ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ACTUAL PERSONS, LIVING OR DEAD, BUSINESS ESTABLISHMENTS, EVENTS OR LOCALES, IS ENTIRELY COINCIDENTAL. BUD SELIGSON

DA VINCIS CLOCK
Thrills, Adventures and Leonardos Time Travel in the Fifteenth Century

CHAPTER ONE
THE HARBOR OF VENICE, ITALY THE YEAR IS 1481

A magnificent band of blood-red light separates the ocean from the sky. The black of night gives way to a deep violet then to shades of blue. A crescent moon cradling a single star shines slowly beneath the horizon. We observe a banner flying the crescent moon insignia of the Royal Turkish Navy. Our eyes slowly pan down the length of the mast, its rough-wood grain illuminated by the light of the rising sun. Our view continues until it finally reaches the wood-plank deck and we see first one foot and then the other of a man wearing the curl-tipped shoes of a Turkish seaman. The feet stop, turn ninety degrees and we see the seaman in perfect profile. He is wearing a white turban, a sailors shirt and knee-length pants. His skin is a walnut brown. A dueling scimitar sword is tucked into a red sash tied around his waist. He walks over to the edge of the ship and stares fixedly at a rising stream of water bubbles approaching his ship from twenty yards off the bow. He reaches down and grabs a small rope ladder then throws it over the side. He rapidly descends the ladder into a small rowboat. Unfastening the line that secures it to the ship, he sits down and reaches for the oars. As he sets himself to the task of rowing, he looks carefully around the harbor and notes that there is no movement from any of the hundreds of other warships lying at anchor all around him. When the seaman reaches the bubbles, he pulls to a stop and raises the oars. With one hand on his sword and the other steadying himself on the bow of the small boat, he looks cautiously over the side.

Suddenly a large hairy arm breaks through the surface of the water grabbing him by the throat! We follow the sailor who is now overboard and into the water. We see a close-up view of his face showing his eyes bulging as air is escaping from his mouth and nose. The arm gripping his throat in a death hold belongs to an extremely massive man. This man, Bocassio Da Vinci by name, is wearing a tight one-piece leather suit. A pair of primitive goggles is fastened around his head. In his mouth is a tube attached to what looks like a large wineskin strapped to his shoulders. The wineskin is full of breathable air, a new invention of his cousin Leonardo Da Vinci. Around his waist is a very heavy belt filled with iron weights. In the distance, we can see two of his companions similarly outfitted. They are about ten feet away standing on the bottom of the lagoon. These two men have just completed cutting through the thick rope net that is in place to protect the anchored Turkish fleet. The net is a huge thing and extends as far as the eye can see. The taller one, Leonardo, looks up at Bocassio and gestures to his large cousin to rejoin them. Bocassio nods as he lets the seamans now limp body drift slowly away. He then makes his way to join his companions. The three men quickly load their weapons and equipment onto a metal scaffolding held suspended above the bottom of the lagoon by four large wineskin buoys attached to its corners. They carefully push it through the hole that they have cut in the netting and are now inside the innermost harbor. Meanwhile on board the ship, the watch commander is making his rounds when he hears the excited voice of a second sailor call for him. Watch Commander, come here!
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Whats the problem? mutters the cranky watch commander. Its Hakim, Sir. He took out the small boat a few minutes ago to investigate something he saw and now he has disappeared. See? Over there! His boat! Its empty! The commander shades his eyes against the bright rays of the early- morning sun. Curse this sun! I cantoh yes I see it now. Wait a few minutes and if he doesnt show up, send out another boat. The commander turns and walks away continuing his rounds. Meanwhile under the water, the three men come to a halt directly under the ship. The tall, lean muscled one, Leonardo, motions to the big man, Bocassio, who nods back at him and, with the third man, Frederico, they begin to assemble the metal scaffolding. Leonardo slowly walks around the length of the ships outer hull studying how the wood planking fits together. When he returns to his companions, they have just finished attaching the legs to the platform. Leonardo helps them move the now steady platform to a spot under the ships front end. He and Bocassio then fit a pair of hand cranks into the scaffolds gearing mechanism. Together they begin cranking the platform up toward the ships wooden hull. At that moment aboard the ship, we hear the second sailor call out, Watch Commander, over here! The watch commander retorts, What is it now, you fool? See, over there! A Sea Devil! It comes at us! The watch commander does see a trail of air bubbles just off the starboard bow. He follows their progress until they are directly below the ship. They do not move!

He turns and yells toward the back of the ship, Mohammed, bring two men and get into the water now! Bring your knives and check under the starboard bow. HURRY! As that flurry of excitement is taking place aboard ship, we see Leonardo, with a final push and turn of his hand drill, succeed in punching a second hole in the outer hull of the wooden ship. He then reverses the drill, pulls it free and lowers it to the scaffolding floor. He and Bocassio pick up their metal crowbars and go to work prying the planks loose. We are able to observe the corded muscles rippling through the tightly fitted diving suits of the two men as they concentrate on their work. With a groan, the plank finally gives way and a stream of water rushes into the ships hold. A few minutes later aboard the ship, the head of a third sailor suddenly pops up from below. He yells to the watch commander, SIR, WERE TAKING ON WATER BELOW DECK! The watch commander hurries down into the ships hold. Once again, under water, we see Leonardo and Bocassio climbing down from the scaffolding. They are about to dismantle it when Leonardo sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns his head and sees three very brown, bare-chested men swimming toward them and in their teeth he sees large curved knives. He taps Bocassio on the shoulder and points. Bocassio nods, then turns and warns Frederico. The three men turn to face the threat that is coming at them.

The lead sailor reaches Leonardo and lunges at him with his knife. Leonardo twists easily out of the way. He hooks the mans knife arm from

underneath while bringing his other hand behind the sailors head. Leonardo brings that hand forward across the mans chest grabbing him under the chin. With an audible crack, he breaks the mans neck. Meanwhile Bocassio maneuvers himself behind his attacker and, with a great bear hug, slowly squeezes the air from his lungs. He holds his hapless attacker in place until his lips give up a final trail of air bubbles. Frederico is not doing as well as his two companions. His attacker rips off the goggles from his face and then plunges his dagger into Fredericos stomach. Fredericos eyes go wide as he instantly dies. Leonardo comes up behind the Turk and rams a stiletto knife blade into his kidney. The man slumps, trailing a stream of blood. Leonardo checks Frederico for signs of life and, seeing none, shakes his head. He removes his own weight belt and motions to Bocassio to do the same. They rise to the surface of the water and begin swimming hastily towards the far shoreline. By this time, the watch commander has returned topside. Utter confusion is running throughout the ship as he tries to organize a bailing crew. The second sailor runs up to him and grabs him by the arm. He drags him to the side of the ship and points to a spot about fifty yards away where two men are swimming rapidly towards shore. The watch commander stares then turns back toward his standing men. You there! Get a boat into the water and go after those two. I want them dead! Four men, armed with cutlasses and bows and arrows, enter a boat hanging suspended over the side. Other men grab the support ropes and lower them rapidly into the calm water.

Meanwhile on the far shore, Melbourne, the fourth member of Leonardos crew, stands staring at the scene that is unfolding before his eyes. He sees the rowboat gaining on his two swimming companions while arrows are flying in their direction, some of them coming very close.
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Melbourne grunts and raises his own unusually long bow. It is called an English bow. He reaches into the quiver slung over his shoulder and notches an arrow. He walks into the water about ankle deep, takes careful aim and sends his first arrow flying. In the rowboat, two men are pulling furiously on the oars, rapidly closing the distance between them and their fleeing prey. The other two men are busy shooting a flurry of arrows with each succeeding shot coming closer to their swimming targets. Suddenly a large arrow thunks into the rising prow of the boat. Dumbfounded one of the archers grabs onto the front of the boat. He bends over to investigate. He raises his head squinting towards the shore. Just then another arrow burrows itself into his chest, knocking him backward onto one of his companions, pinning him to the bottom of the boat. A third arrow skewers one of the oarsmen through the neck. The boat pulls hard to the right as the remaining oarsman dives frantically into the water. Leonardo and Bocassio, panting heavily, finally emerge from the lagoon waters. Melbourne is sitting atop a wagons raised platform holding the reins of two horses. Bocassio climbs into the back of the wagon and flops down onto the floor. The wagon groans under his heavy weight. Leonardo clambers next to Melbourne and stretches out his aching body. Wheres the Venetian, Leonardo? He didnt make it, Melbourne. Forget about him and lets get the hell out of here! Uh oh! Fredericos uncle, General Graccus, is going to be pissed! Getting him killed was not in the game plan!
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This guys gonna be all over us and I hear hes one mean son of a bitch! Melbourne snaps the horses reins, gives a hearty HYAHH and they take off in a huge cloud of dust. Behind them, the front of the Turkish ship begins to point towards the sky as it slowly slips beneath the water.

CHAPTER TWO
ONE HOUR LATER

On a high hill above a flat plain, Leonardo, Bocassio and Melbourne sit propped up against a large oak tree exhausted. Bocassio is saying, We were damned lucky to get away with our skin intact from that little demonstration! Too bad about Frederico. He was a nice little guy. Do you think Melbourne is right, Leonardo? Will there be hell to pay from Fredericos uncle? Bocassio looks expectantly at Leonardo.
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My best guess, Cousin, is that we will be seeing the general again and he wont be very pleased with us. If the city-state of Venice and the country of Turkey hadnt agreed to stop making war on one another, we could have done very well for ourselves sinking their ships. A yawning Bocassio says, I dont know about you two, but Im going to take a nap over there in the shade of that big rock. The two friends watch Bocassio settle down in a shady spot and Melbourne turns to Leonardo. You know, Leonardo, the three of us have been getting into and out of trouble together for over a year now but you and I have never had a quiet moment like we do right now. Perhaps you would kindly clear up a few things for me. I understand the family thing between you and your cousin Bocassio, but please explain why you, Leonardo Da Vinci, are here on the road scratching out a living with us. I know that you could be back in Florence or Milan taking rich commissions from those patrons of the arts that you are always talking about. I would appreciate your clearing up this mystery for me. I think about it all the time. A smiling but sad Leonardo nods to himself as if making up his mind. Stretch out and relax, Melbourne, because my cousin Bocassios story is the cause and effect of my present problems. His life and mine are always strongly connected. This tale began when we joined the guard for the city of Florence. Bocassio, of course, could not stay out of trouble. Here is the sad story: ... The two swords shimmered brightly in the moonlight as they clashed together shattering the stillness with the clang of steel blade on steel blade.

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We heard loud grunts of breath wrenched from the sweaty throats of the two combatants. A subdued murmur was evident from the circle of watchers whose faces glinted with excitement. The only thing in common about the two men fighting was the deadly skill with which each man wielded his blade. One, who was increasingly the aggressor, was clearly the older man and his dexterous swordplay indicated that the long straight blade was no stranger to his hand. Streaks of gray highlighted his smooth black hair and closely trimmed beard even as a few straight-dueling scars streaked his handsome face. The scars were thin and faded for it had been many years since an opponents blade had touched his face. Emblazoned upon his right sleeve were the twin gold stars of a captain in the elite regiment of the army of Florence. The other duelist was a younger manprobably no more than half the captains forty-odd years. Bocassio easily blocked his opponents sword strokes with a studied skill that was more that of a veteran swordsman than of a reckless youth. He was much taller than the older mans six feet of height and was considerably heavier of build. He was stripped to the waist and his powerful shoulders and broad chest showed a deep tan that was flawed now and again by his own lines of dueling scars. As he fought, a sweaty mane of black hair whipped about his clean-shaven face. His deep blue eyes sparked angrily from his rough-hewn features. He wore the leather trousers of the city guard and his huge fist seemed better suited to a heavy broadsword than to the thin, double-edged hand-and-ahalf sword that he was so skillfully using.

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They stood within a circle of fellow soldiers tightly compressed to watch this duel. Around them arose the shadowy enclosure of a military barrackscots and equipment shoved back against the walls to make room. The crowds tense faces strained upon the combatants with knowing eyes that missed nothing of the swordplay. Earlier the barracks had resounded with their cheers and shouts and with the frantic exchange of wagers and curses. That was before the two duelists had unleashed a heart-stopping display of slash and thrust, parry and counterthrust. Now the excitement was too intense for vocal expression. Sharing the tension of the duel, the onlookers hung onto each breath and waitedeven as the two combatants drew upon their limits of endurance and watched for the other to make one fatal mistake. Both of their dueling swords had lately tasted blood. A shallow gash of no consequence leaked blood across the older mans forearm where the others blade cut across his guard and nicked him. Bocassio Da Vinci bled from a pair of slashes along his left side and a deeper wound below his shoulder that seemed to have somewhat crippled his left arm. He received that wound when he fought off three deadly thrusts that would have pierced his heart had his reflexes been a fraction of a second slower. It was this flow of blood that prompted the thin smile and flared nostrils of the older man as he pressed confidently for the kill. The youth did not smile. The anger in his eyes blazed without a hint of the pain and fatigue he was feeling. Their blades again dartedengagedbroke apart! Not pausing in his attack, the captain struck again, even as their swords disengaged, letting the momentum of their exchange drive his blade down and around Bocassios guard, stabbing him deeply into the thick muscles of his thigh.

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The youth grunted in agony lunging backward from the blow. His leg buckled under him. He staggered barely holding himself erect. His desperate counterthrust was clumsy and without strength. It was now the final moments of the long duel. The circle of eyes burned with breathless concentration. The captain, now playing to the crowd, was savoring the split second of their absolute attention. He chose to dispatch his crippled opponent with the blinding thrust to the heart that was his trademark. Bocassio had no thought of good form. From his half crouch, he slashed upward gripping, for added strength, the long hilt of his weapon with the fingers of his wounded left arm. The end of the blade caught the older man in his crotch and continued upward. Poised to deliver his deathblow, the captain was flung back in a welter of spilling entrails and burst lungs. A long gasp of disbelief then an outburst of exclamation emanated from the crowd. The man on the floor shuddered in a final spasm. His death rattle was drowned out in a sudden tumult of excited shouts and curses, a rumble of jostled bodies and the clink of exchanged coins. The youth put the bloody point of his sword to the ground leaning hard against its hilt. Bright blood gushed from his thigh but he made no outcry other than a hoarse gulping for breath. He swayed on his feet, knuckles white upon his sword hilt as his strength drained from him. A pair of city guards, bursting with the coins they had just won, rushed forward to give him their shoulders to lean on. Bocassios eyes blazed wildlythe battle lust was still in his heartbut he calmed down as he recognized his comrades. He sagged against them as a third soldier produced a strip of cloth bandage and worked to stop the flow of blood coming from his thigh.

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The noise around them shivered to a hush as the supreme commander of the Florence army swept into the circle. General Zarts eyes widened then narrowed as he studied the disemboweled corpse. He stroked his carefully trimmed beard thoughtfully. Ah, Captain, he addressed the unmoving body. It seems that you crossed swords with one who was more than your equal. His stroke was not to your heart as yours was to so many, but you are just as dead for all of the crudeness of your death. He looked toward the wounded Bocassio. Under the generals gaze, those who held him up moved back and out of sight. Bocassio swayed on his feet as his friends melted away but he managed to hold himself erect and return the generals stare. Yours was the blade that gutted the captain? I killed him, true enough, Bocassio growled in answer to the question. And in a fair fight! Ask any man here! The general nodded. Its hard to believe that any man could cross blades with the captain and live to boast of it, especially someone from the city guard. Nevertheless, as you said, the evidence is plain for all to see! And what is your name, young man? Bocassio Da Vinci, Sir! Ah yes, Da Vinci. You are, no doubt, related to that Leonardo fellow. Do you know that General Graccus of Venice has put out a large bounty on you and your cousin Leonardo? How are his wounds? This was said to Bocassios comrades who were seeking to slip quietly into the background. The cuts on his ribs are shallow, Sir. His arm is cleanly pierced and should cause him no trouble. Hes lost some blood from the wound in his thigh but the blade missed the artery there and he should be fine.

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Good! the general nodded to his men who then surrounded Bocassio with drawn swords. Whatever your quarrel was, my dear Bocassio, a common city guard is not permitted to butcher one of my officers and the offer of a large reward from General Graccus closes the matter. Sergeant, kindly take him to The general was unable to finish his sentence since a muscular arm had encircled his neck and, from out of nowhere, a twelve-inch blade was being held to his throat. Hello, General, a smiling Leonardo whispered into his captives ear. I see that youve just met my cousin. Im a bit disappointed to see that you are up to your same old tricks. I guess you will never change. But heres a new one for you. Lets see how fast you can order your men to lay down their weapons and step ten feet back. It would be most kind of you to have your aide bring up your horse along with the poor captains. He wont have any use for it anymore. Well make better use of them than you or the late captain. And, General, if you or any of your men step outside in less than ten minutes, you will be asking to become a pin cushion since I have three archers posted in the nearby woods. And now, Cousin Bocassio, kindly gather your things. Its time for us to make our exit. And there it is, friend Melbourne. That is why the cousins Da Vinci left Florence in somewhat of a hurry and made our way south. And now, my dear companion, I bid you a good night. Leonardo wraps himself in his cape and soon is sound asleep. Melbourne continues to sit quietly watching the stars filter themselves through the night sky.

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He knows that it is time for him to head back to England. The sooner he leaves the likes of General Graccus behind, the better off he will be. With that calming thought in mind, he, too, falls into a deep sleep.
Excerpted from DA VINCIS CLOCK by Bud Seligson Copyright 2011 by Bud Seligson. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. http://www.davincisclock.com

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