Annwyn and the Marble Tears: Book II

By Jo-Anne McDougall

Even Heroes Have Their Flaws He sold his soul to save her life. For Aaron Annwyn to rescue Diana, he must continue time-shifting with the Secret Society. His mission takes him to the studio of Leonardo da Vinci to undertake the most infamous fraud of all time, a copy of the Holy Shroud. Hell-bent on destroying the SSJ, he uncovers their dark web, copying information that will devastate the group. Unexpectedly, his heart is torn by a beguiling 15th-century duchess but without staying operational, he will lose her forever. Aaron is torn between his vows of love for Diana, his need for justice and his passion for Lucrezia. Compelling and suspenseful, Annwyn and the Marble Tears, the sequel to The Ship of Solomon, irresistibly combines desire in a time-travelling double-helix of deceit and loyalty.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Sep 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781398412767

Jo-Anne McDougall

Jo-Anne McDougall is a graduate of the Universities of Queensland and New England. Most of her career has been spent in secondary school education. She is married, has two sons, and lives on the Sunshine Coast, Queensland. Her interests in travel, old books and conspiracy theories have led her to be passionate about delving into inexplicable mysteries. Her interweaving of history and fiction within a modern, time-shifting background engages young adults through page-turning tales. Her first two novels of the series, Annwyn and the Ship of Solomon and Annwyn and the Marble Tears, showcase her talent for capturing the reader’s interest from start to finish.

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About the Author

Jo-Anne McDougall was born and raised in Brisbane, Australia. She is a graduate from the University of Queensland and the University of New England. Most of her career has been spent in secondary school education. She is married, has two sons and now lives on the Sunshine Coast in Queensland. Her interest in travel, old books and conspiracy theories has led her to be passionate about delving into history, mythology and inexplicable mysteries. She is a fervent believer in engaging young adults through page turning tales. Her first novel of the series, Annwyn and the Ship of Solomon, showcases her talent for capturing the readers’ interest from start to finish.

Dedication

To Malcolm

who always encourages me to keep writing.

Copyright Information ©

Jo-Anne McDougall (2021)

The right of Jo-Anne McDougall to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398412750 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398412767 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2021)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

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Canary Wharf

London

E14 5LQ

Acknowledgement

I would like to thank the Queensland Writers Centre for their short courses and encouragement to go forth.

Thank you to Commander John Hayes, Supply Corps, U.S. Navy (retired) who gave me insight into the workings of a naval base. I’m still blown away by that day in San Diego.

To Marco, guide of the Museum of the Sindone in Turin, Italy, I express my gratitude for his informative history of The Holy Shroud. My poor Italian and his good English have proven more than adequate for my education regarding the Holy Relic.

Thank you to the monks of the Santa Maria della Grazie, Milan, for sharing their knowledge and access to the sacristy where history comes to life. Also, I offer gratitude to Alexia, the informative guide who took me through the refectory housing Leonardo da Vinci’s Last Supper.

Thank you to Massimo, the manager of the Atellani apartments in Milan for his on-going tales. As I edited this novel in the same rooms Leonardo used for rest during the painting of The Last Supper, I learnt more everyday about the man and his friends including his life-long companion Salai. Walking in Leonardo’s vineyard each evening was totally inspiring. It was easy to imagine him tending his vines and talking with Ludovico Sforza who gifted him the land.

I would like to recognise the Tourist Board of Venice who enabled me to visit and research the Clock Tower (from the inside) and the Doge’s palace so that I would represent them accurately in my novel.

A heartfelt thank you to my neighbour and friend, Ken Waddington, for patiently proof reading my script and offering constructive suggestions.

Prologue

Milan, December 26, 1492 AD

Marco Melzi walked inside the City walls of Milan praying for the Lord’s assistance. A bitterly cold wind swirled leaves around his feet but he was numb to this harshness.

His infant son was barely three months old, and Marco thought this young life would be soon cut short. The apothecary had told Marco that baby Francesco may not make the celebration of the New Year of 1493 as his life humors were out of balance.

That evening, he’d prayed with the Monsignor who beseeched him to have faith as he believed God would deliver a sage with powers to heal the babe.

Marco need not worry. His little baby, Francesco Melzi, had a future already planned. His survival was to be an integral part of the story to validate The Shroud of Turin. The Society of St Josephus had baby Francesco in its sights and would ensure he lived.

Part I

Hung

San Diego, July 3, Present Day, 7.00 am

The door flew open, the handle hitting the wall.

Sorry. Wind caught it. Want to come for a run, Aaron?

I lifted my head and squinted to focus on Josh standing in the doorway, his tall blonde body towering over me.

Haven’t you heard of jet lag? I grumbled burying my head under the pillow.

Your loss my friend. OK. Back soon.

The dark blind swayed as the air-con breeze oscillated on its round but I still sweated from the heat of the San Diego sun. I rolled over trying to find a cooler part of the sheet not saturated with perspiration.

The front door slammed and I lifted the shade to see Josh running along the boulevard, away from the mansion, our home for the summer. He was such an enigma, jogging and gym sessions between fast food breaks.

There was no noise downstairs. The girls may be still in bed. I stared at the ceiling as the last months flashed by and my stomach tightened. The end of school hadn’t meant freedom; to me, it was the beginning of a time of dread. The Society of St Josephus demanded payment for saving Diana.

This must be the only mission. My debt repaid, Diana and I would be let loose. I couldn’t contemplate the emptiness of losing her again, so I’d comply.

Three weeks previously

Cardiff, June 19, Present Day, 5.00 pm

The boards on the porch squeaked as they always did. Jake enjoyed receiving warning of my arrival so made no effort to mend them. The last six months had been tormenting. Every time I visited Diana, I anticipated he’d issue my instructions, and not knowing my future, made me imagine the worst.

But besides being told to study Italian and continue with my art, there had been no other orders. Languages, I found easy, and art I prized. Anyway, Diana must learn English so that gave us time to be together at night school.

He opened the latch before I knocked. Come in, Aaron. Dinny’s not quite ready and we need to talk.

He got that wrong. I never needed to talk to Jake. If I never laid eyes on him again, it would suit me. But he made it clear that at any time, he could send Diana back to the Ship of Solomon and she’d die as legend recorded.

I tried to sound in control. She hates you calling her that.

Well, it is halfway between Dindraney and Diana. Just covers me if I slip up on her new name. I’ll try to stick to Diana.

Good. I had him apologising. Power back to me. It was always a tug-of-war.

We’ve got five minutes, I said dismissively.

But he ignored me as I followed him to the conservatory, sufficiently away from Diana’s bedroom that she couldn’t hear what he intended to say.

I texted you three times this week. No response.

Busy with exams, I lied.

Never be too busy for me, Aaron. You made a commitment to the SSJ. Remember the consequences of going back on your word. His teeth were clenched as he yelled in a whisper.

He may have been one of Dad’s best friends, but Dad didn’t know how ruthless he was. I let him continue.

He cleared his throat and regained his calm. At your graduation party, Commander Anderson will invite you and Diana to San Diego for the summer. His daughter Paula and her boyfriend will be going along.

Why? Every sinew of my body wanted to make it hard for him.

Your schooling’s over. Time now for you to become operational. You’ll be given your instructions and details of the mission as the need…

Hi, Aaron. I didn’t realise you were here already.

I swung around to see Dindraney, Diana, standing in the doorway. Every ounce of hatred and contempt which surged through my veins for Jake, melted away. It didn’t matter how often I saw her, or how much time we spent together, I couldn’t drink her in enough. Since the day I first saw her sitting on a raft in the lake, I’d been in love.

Her perfume filled the air, and her long red wavy hair swirled around her body like a wispy cloud. The emerald green dress she wore, deepened the colour of her eyes. I was fairly good at painting but could never trap her magic on canvas.

Not once did she complain about her new life. Skipping 15 centuries had been hard, with so much to absorb. She thought of Jake as her saviour. On the surface, he gave the impression of being good to her. She wanted for nothing, and being the supposed niece of a high-profile lawyer gave her immediate acceptance in the community. But she didn’t know his dark side and certainly didn’t understand how my soul was sacrificed to save her life.

Let’s go, Diana. I have to be early. Remember the prize giving is first up. I never turned back to Jake. Time would fill in the blanks.

I put my arm around her and guided her to the front porch.

You look amazing. You’re so beautiful. I know you aren’t that keen on crowds, but I’ll be with you as soon as I can come off-stage.

Are your parents coming?

Yeah, when Dad’s finished work. I have Mum’s car.

*

I sat on a hard stacker chair for the last time, waiting to receive academic prizes in Welsh, Art and Chemistry. Josh slouched beside me – Sportsman of the Year.

Can’t believe Glanmorgan Grammar will be behind us. Never thought this day would come, he said.

When do you and Paula head to the States?

Next Monday. And there’s a surprise in store for you. Can’t say anything. Promised Paula. But you’ll like it!

I understood exactly what he was talking about. From his point of view, being a guest in San Diego would be amazing. For me, the invitation was part of a well-planned operation.

Principal Drake rose and approached the microphone. The assembly fell silent.

*

Anderson waited by his front door welcoming guests to the post-graduation party he’d agreed to host. There was no avoiding him. Even out of uniform, he was impeccably dressed with his slightly greying hair perfectly groomed.

Congratulations on your trove of trophies, Aaron. He stretched out his hand which I felt obliged to take. I hoped he sensed the hatred surge as I connected with his palm. I couldn’t be sure how high he stood in the order, but he was definitely an integral member. Operatives were probably all over Cardiff. Some days I’d suspect just about everyone. Well, not my sister Lili. No one could put up with her. Mum and Dad were behind me, so had to be gracious.

Thank you, sir. I could’ve stayed for a few more seconds but took back my hand and guided Diana towards Josh and Paula at the buffet. Josh’s tasting plan was well underway.

You look gorgeous, Diana, Paula said, hugging her.

Josh and Paula had listened to the orphan story and believed Diana’s lack of English was due to growing up in a remote Celtic community. Paula had only been in Wales for a month or so before Diana came to Cardiff, so she didn’t know how unlikely that would be. Josh spoke fluent Welsh, so hardly noticed her mixed language. If only they knew she’d been born in the sixth century.

Miriam’s here with a guy from Oxford. Jeremy, I think. She went up for an interview last week and ran into him. She met him at Christmas at Botham Castle. You were there, Aaron. Do you know him? Paula asked.

Yeah, nice guy. I questioned how many pubs Miriam crawled through to accidentally find him again.

Come and I’ll introduce you, Diana. He’s much better looking than our boyfriends, Paula said smiling at Josh and grabbing Diana’s arm. I knew Diana wouldn’t be comfortable but had to let her go.

Get some food, Aaron. It’s delicious. Josh started on some buffalo wings. Has he asked you yet?

Who? What? Played dumb.

Anderson.

The commander heard us talking and came over putting his hand on Josh’s shoulder as he said, Aaron, I wondered if you and Diana might like to fly out to the States for the summer. I just mentioned it to your parents and I asked Diana’s guardian this morning.

I felt he was pressurising Josh, in a way, to make me comply. He made out as if he and Jake were barely acquainted. Far from the truth.

Mum and Dad saw us talking and came over to join us before I had time to reply. I think it’s a generous offer, Rory, Dad said.

I had no alternative but wouldn’t make it easy for Anderson. Not sure I have the money. Plan on finding a summer job.

Nonsense. Mum’s turn. I intended to give you some cash as a graduation present.

Good. I will have my secretary sort out the visas. He’ll be in touch. Rory turned and left. He issued commands, not requests.

San Diego, July 3, Present Day, 6.00 pm

Diana and I straddled the edge of the pool, soaking our sore feet. Strolling the length of Ocean Boulevard during the afternoon, checking over the multi-million-dollar houses that lay side by side, had made us both tired. Pools and elaborate entrances were the norms. Coronado appeared a palatial part of the city.

The gravel driveway crackled under the weight of an SUV. Anderson was home. I dived into the water and started doing laps. Delaying the meeting for a minute had to be better than not, or so I thought. When I took breaths, I heard muted conversation between Diana and Anderson and when I finally stopped, I peered out to be level with a pair of shiny military boots. An impressive man side by side, looking up at him from the depth of the pool made him more intimidating. Bad move.

Welcome to the States, Aaron. Sorry I missed you last night. Up in San Fran. I’ll go and change and be back for a beer. He turned back into the house.

I said nothing.

You are not very polite to Paula’s father. You are always the same with him. It makes me unhappy.

She couldn’t understand and I couldn’t explain. She had no idea about his involvement in the SSJ.

Sorry. I’ll try harder. Only when you’re near, I added to myself. I climbed out and dried off, throwing on a polo shirt just as he came back.

Where are the other two? he asked walking behind the outdoor bar.

Gone out to buy some steaks. There, I could be civil.

Beer?

Thanks, sir.

Diana?

No, thank you, commander.

It will be a long summer if I’m commander or sir. Do you think you guys could be a little less formal? How about commander at the base, and Rory at home?

Josh and Paula walked in at the end of this.

Sounds good, sir, Josh said. Rory.

Now, what about those steaks? I’ll get the grill fired up.

It resembled a gourmet kitchen, not a barbecue, but the beer helped me be less jumpy. Surely, there’d be one night without a mention of the mission. But not so lucky. As we put down our forks, he started.

Aaron, do you know of Carla Sabario?

Not a question I anticipated. Yes, we studied her in art this year.

Who is she, Dad? Paula asked.

Aaron may be more familiar with her work than I am. She’s a Professor of Medieval Art at UCLA. The thing is, she’s accepted a commission at the base.

I had a strange feeling the mission had started.

What type of commission? Paula asked.

Last year, two of our choppers went down in Afghanistan. A terrible tragedy. They had just taken off when a freak wind forced one into the tail rudder of the other. They spiralled down. Nothing could be done.

Ah, how awful, said Paula.

Adding to the trauma, the chief stood on the ground watching it all unfold. His name was Vincento da Vinci. He ran to the crash site, attempting to rescue the men as the choppers went up in flames. But he got caught in the inferno – it cost him his life too.

Dad, that is so sad.

That act of bravery will never be forgotten by the forces. It’s taken a year to get the right legal releases, but now the navy is in a position to get a memorial for him and his crew. Because of his surname we nicknamed him Leonardo, so we’re planning a fresco on the wall of the mess hall in the Nav Com building. Last Supper style…him and his twelve apostles.

Their families would like the thought, said Diana.

I wondered how often she thought about her brother and Galahad. The Holy Grail had taken them away.

I think so, Rory said. Carla told us The Last Supper wasn’t a true fresco. But she’s the best and accepted the work as it’s summer break. She’s coming down tomorrow with some of her post-grad students to do some planning.

I tried to piece it together. The Italian lessons, the artwork, the mission.

Anyway Aaron, since you are such a talent at art, I asked her if you could observe for a week or so. Thought it might be a thrill for you. She agreed.

I didn’t jump for joy like everyone thought I should. Sure, working with her would be unbelievable but the invitation would have strings.

How good of you, Dad, Paula said in the absence of any response from me.

Diana glared across the table, amazed at my lack of enthusiasm.

Yes, sir. Rory. Thank you. How was that for politeness?

I asked her for dinner tomorrow night, so we’ll work things out then.

One more day of freedom, I thought as Paula’s phone rang. She picked it up from the table.

Hi, Mum.

Rory stayed seated, but the rest of us stood and started to pile the dishes leaving them to be alone.

In the kitchen, I asked Josh, Aren’t they divorced?

No, just live their separate lives. She’s got her place in New York but comes over this side with her legal work. They all get on OK. Think navy families have different relationships.

Paula came in with the rest of the plates. Mum’s coming out in the morning. Needs to interview someone in LA for her firm. Secretly, I think she wants to meet you, Josh.

I’ll have to charm her then, as I did you.

Ha.

I questioned if Carla and Mrs Anderson being there together could be a coincidence. I trusted nobody. Maybe they were both in the SSJ.

San Diego, July 4, Present Day, 7.00 pm

The moist bay wind drifted through the patio and in the distance, we watched the lowering sun gleam on the Pacific. Each of us lay on a sofa that seemed too expensive to keep outside.

Mrs Anderson sipped a martini. It was so hard to get on a plane today with the holiday and all that. Only found out yesterday about the interview and had to go stand-by. Still, I’m here. Hope your dad has planned a feast, she said to Paula with her husky but hard, New York accent. How different it sounded to Rory’s Californian drawl.

Doubt it, Mum. Looking at the freezer, I think he eats at the base most of the time when he’s Stateside.

Well, we’ll have take-out. How about pizza, although I’m not too sure exactly how American that is on Independence Day.

There are thousands of trattorias in the Big Apple, so we can relax about being patriotic, Mum. And Dad is bringing a guest for dinner – think she’s Italian – so pizza will be good.

He mentioned an artist he’s commissioned for a memorial. I know nothing about art. Should have done my homework.

Well, Aaron knows about her, Paula said.

Everyone’s eyes were on me.

Will you fill us in, so we don’t appear Neanderthal? Mrs Anderson asked.

Don’t know that much but we studied her recent work this year. She’s thought to be as talented as Raphael. Think she spent time in Florence and curated at the Uffizi Gallery for a while. She’s made a mint from some of her work, mainly frescos and installation art.

Fresco. That’s artwork on plaster isn’t it? Mrs Anderson asked.

Yeah, it’s complicated. You make a life-size likeness on a fine paper, make up some plaster and before it dries on the wall, trace it on. Then basically you colour by number – although I’d avoid saying that to Carla.

I’m sure you oversimplified it, but we’ll all be wiser.

Diana smiled. I loved it when she did. She liked my knowledge on certain things and I enjoyed showing off to gain her admiration. But this moment was short-lived; her eyes were distracted as the front door opened.

They’ll all be out the back, no doubt. Rory’s voice came closer with every word.

Josh and I stood as he came out on to the patio with a tall, elegant woman.

Carla, this is my wife Jenifer. Rory went over and bent down to the sofa to kiss her on the forehead. It was hardly an emotional homecoming. Mrs Anderson swung her legs around and came to her feet to greet her guest.

Wonderful to meet you, Carla. Welcome to San Diego. I’m afraid I’m one martini in front of you.

I’ll remedy that, said Rory. You finish the introductions.

We all made some small talk as I studied her. Was she one of them? She didn’t seem to know Mrs Anderson.

So, Aaron, you are the talented one? Carla said as she sat in the chair Josh pulled around for her.

I think, compared to you, I don’t even know how to hold a paintbrush, I replied. What else could I say? I had some talent, but…

Do you know some of my work?

You were one of our A level course subjects. So yes, I’ve seen images of your art. Terrific.

My art, in Wales? My goodness. I must charge more if I’m becoming that famous.

She was only being modest. She was as well-known as Hirst.

Well, if you like, I’m quite happy for you to come and help with this commission. There is so much groundwork that needs to be done before a true fresco can be started, and much of that has nothing to do with art.

It’d be incredible to see you at work, I said genuinely.

You’d be working too.

Awesome. But how could I help?

Lots of ways. For example, gesso preparation. I think a chef might be better at making that concoction than an artist.

I was interested. "Don’t you use commercial