“If you’re going to tell me that man was you…”

Garin lifted a mischievous brow. “You did ask for something salacious.”

“I didn’t use that word exactly. Seriously? You and Catherine of Aragon?”

He nodded. “But you didn’t hear that from me. I guard my secrets well.”

Okay, so that nugget weighed in his favor. Not that she believed him—entirely.

On the other hand, was it so difficult accepting the man had notched a queen on his bedpost?

Annja looked over Garin, trying to imagine him in doublet, breeches and the wool hose that were worn in the sixteenth century. She could see it. And would bet he had wielded a battle sword with cruel intention, as well.

Time travel would so rock. She gave her head a shake.

“So the skull,” she said. “Tell me everything you know. And did you know about the thief?”

“The guy you met at the bridge?”

“Were you there, too?”

“Not at the bridge specifically.”

“In the area? How many people know about this?”

He cleared his throat and said, “I heard about the drowned man the next morning, and sometimes it’s very easy to put two and two together and come up with Annja Creed.”

His easy smile kept her from tightening a fist on her lap.

“The skull,” she said.

He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. Noticing how he mirrored her, Annja pulled up her legs, clasping her arms around them.

“I’ve seen it once before in the fifteenth century, a few years before the execution.”

“So the two of you were mortal at the time?” Annja asked, intrigued.

“Yes. Roux and I were on our way to France to meet the Maid of Orléans. We’d stopped by a Moorish palace in Granada. I think it was the Alhambra.”

“That’s a famous palace.”

“Yes, isn’t it? I held the skull while Roux talked to an alchemist.”

“How can you know it’s the same skull I’ve seen?”

“As far as skulls go, it is unique.”

“Describe it to me.”

“Small, likely belonged to an infant. Silver lines the divides between the bones.”

“They’re called sutures.”

“Oh? I’m not up on skull terminology. Sound like the one you’ve held?”

“Not really.” Silver and gold were two very different metals. “So you just let it get out of your hands, then?”

“I had no idea what it was. Thought it just another trinket, though I had thought to hear it whisper to me. The alchemist was convinced it was the Skull of Sidon.”

“The Skull of Sidon?” Where had she recently heard that?

Garin smirked. “A legend the great archaeologist doesn’t know about?”

“Is it Templar related?”

“Points for you. Yes, it is. How did you guess?”

“There was a small cross pattée on the gold edging the sutures. But it’s so obvious a symbol. I placed it to Teutonic’s.”

“There’s gold on it?” Garin rubbed his jaw. “There was silver on it in the fifteenth century.”

“So you’ve got the wrong skull.”

She took great delight in that statement. But too quickly.

“Or you do,” he said.

Annja knew well and good artifacts were tampered with all the time. And if the skull had not been buried for centuries, whomever might have owned it over the years could have embellished it. Perhaps the original silver had worn away or been taken out and melted down for sale.

“It could have been added later,” Garin said. “Hell, the alchemist might have put it on. He prized that skull, and felt it gave him great success. Although, he didn’t have it to hand afterwe left.”

“Who was the alchemist?”

“Alphonso de Castaña.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Nor had you heard of the Skull of Sidon.”

Touché, she thought.

“Does it have the markings on the interior?” Garin asked.

She balked at giving the answer, but he read her reluctance.

“They appear as though they were there originally, yes?”

“Yes,” she said on a gasp. “They don’t look carved, but it’s ridiculous to believe they were born into the skull as Professor Danzinger has suggested.”

“Ridiculous, but not impossible. Especially if you look at the skull’s origins. It’s all very macabre and taboo.”

“Sounds like ninety percent of my work. I love the taboo stuff. But the Skull of Sidon? I don’t know the history.”

“Hmm, then get comfortable, Annja. Let me tell you how the Skull of Sidon came to be.”

18

“The Knights Templar, as you know, were formed after the first Crusade to police the high roads and keep the pilgrimage traveling to Jerusalem safe from thieves and cutthroats,” Garin explained. “They took vows of chastity, poverty, piety and obedience.”

“The cross on their robes,” Annja added, “didn’t that symbolize martyrdom?”

“Yes, and to die in combat was considered a great honor, a sure trip to heaven. They never surrendered in battle, unless all the Templar flags had fallen. They were a feared force of the times.”

“Medieval. Twelfth and thirteenth century.”

“Yes, the Templars fell in the fourteenth. Accusations of blasphemy and heresy led to their demise. They were accused of trampling and spitting on the cross. Engaging in vile sexual practices, such as homosexuality and head worshipping. Their doomsday happened on a Friday the thirteenth.”

“Really? Here I thought that was Freddy’s day,” Annja only half joked. “I thought I’d heard everything about the Templars. What with all the DaVinci Codeand grail stuff in the media.”

“There is much on the knights, true. But the Skull of Sidon is often overlooked by scholars as mere myth.”

Garin leaned forward from where he sat on the couch, splaying his long tanned fingers before him as he explained.

“There was a Templar knight in love with a lady from Maraclea.”

“Clear waters,”Annja said. “Isn’t that what Maraclea means?”

“Yes, or simply sea.And then there are some scholars who will goad a person into believing it means something like greater shining,an allusion to the Holy Grail. Which makes the tale more interesting than not.

“The knight was actually a lord of Sidon, rumored to not only be a Templar but also a pirate. Sidon was rife with pirates at the time—the city was crawling with them. Anyway, because of his vows, the knight could not consummate his relationship with the Maraclean lady. But, after her untimely death, all vows were null. Or so he decided.”

“Oh, don’t tell me.” Annja could guess the next part, and it couldn’t be good.

Garin’s wicked grin made her lean forward, anyway. “He exhumed her corpse and, well, let’s say he had his way with it. Those of a certain mind would have the knight coming into the greater shining, actually gaining the grail, this means of enlightenment, through that copulation.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s a theory, Annja. So after the macabre act, it is said the knight heard a voice telling him to return to the grave in nine months. Which he did.”

“Because one always obeys disembodied voices after committing necrophilia.”

“Naturally.”

The two shared a wink, and Annja looked down and aside to avoid the man’s mesmerizing gaze.

“Upon returning,” Garin continued, “the knight found a skull placed above the woman’s crossed leg bones—which some believe is the origin for the skull and crossbones symbol. And if he was really a pirate, then all the more basis for the belief.

“Anyway, the knight took the skull and again the voice spoke. It told him to guard it well, because it would be the giver of all good things to him—become his protecting genius. That is also what the Holy Grail is supposed to do, be the giver of all good things.”