by Brad Ricca
“Heckling to order!” shouted the head of parliament, standing up once more.
Another member of the body yelled out: “This issue does not concern Islam only! It is also of concern to Christians!”
“Why was the contract kept secret?” asked someone else.
Ruhi Khalidi then addressed the crowd. An elected delegate of Jerusalem, he was the new deputy to the head of parliament. He was a thinker and lover of books.
“Sirs,” he said, “to understand the foundation of the matter in question, it is necessary to discuss some history. Above all, this issue is a mystery, like a story from the One Thousand and One Nights or The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas. Such issues only can be observed within the grand revolutions of the great powers. When Captain Parker, the brother of the famous Lord Morley, said there was a huge treasure worth 100 million lira in Jerusalem, well, 100 million lira is easy to speak with words, but hard to imagine. If you were to stack up a 100 million on top of each other, you would need a whole room. The largest amount of capital belongs to the Rothschilds, at 30 million. Our debts were at 115 million lira before the revolution!” He stopped, letting the numbers hit their mark. Many nodded their heads in agreement.
By June, the minister of interior reported to parliament that Governor Azmi Bey had been recalled from Jerusalem. Azmi and Sami Bey (the heads of the gendarmerie) were also dismissed; the caretakers of the Haram and Macasdar were sent to Beirut to stand trial before a tribunal. Parliament was satisfied for the moment. Someone remarked that the caretakers had been bribed by Macasdar, not the Turks. “The government and bureaucrats took no part and had no information,” he said, confidently.
Thirty-Eight
Monty Parker
LONDON, MAY 8, 1911
The door of the London office of The Times’s editor opened, and a mail clerk dumped the day’s flurry of letters onto his already-struggling desk. There, among the usual political grumblers, harmless cranks, and self-advertisers, was a letter. The envelope had strange markings and stamps and seals with curling characters on them. The letter was from Constantinople, and even the paper itself had an exotic feel to it. Though it was October and the Jerusalem story had left the papers in favor of strikes and suffragettes, the name in the corner of the envelope had remained in the minds of some people. Copy was called. The name on the letter was The Hon. Montague B. Parker.
The Times ran the letter on May 8, 1911, the same day as the Turkish parliament was debating the incident. In the letter, Monty Parker, the man at the center of an international manhunt—yet who had never once been charged with a crime—finally explained to the readers of The Times his version of what happened in Jerusalem:
Our expedition, which started in 1909, originally consisted of Mr. R. Duff, Major C. Foley, Mr. Clarence Wilson, and myself. The object of it was to find the tomb of Solomon and any Hebrew writing that existed of that period. At the end of four months the weather was so bad that we were compelled to shut down our excavations and return to England. We determined, however, to resume our work in the summer of 1910. On arriving in August 1910, we resumed our excavations, but finding that the water from the Virgin’s well was very low, we decided to clean the spring out, which soon created an enormous amount of satisfaction among the villagers of Silwan, who held a big feast on the occasion of the water first flowing down the tunnel after these operations had completed. We were unable to discover any Hebrew writing, notwithstanding we had found definitely the spot where the city of David and the Jebusite city which preceded it, had existed. In [the] view of the Dominican Fathers this discovery is quite the most important that has been hitherto made in Palestine.
With regards to the rumors which have been circulated concerning work undertaken in connection with the mosque of Omar, nothing can be said until the commission appointed by the Turkish government to inquire into this question has presented its report.
Monty Parker, writing from somewhere unknown, had admitted nothing. The article was picked up by newspapers all over the world.
A week later, on May 14, 1911, The New York Times ran a story titled “Mysterious Bags Taken from Mosque.” In it, the expedition is described as having worked for two years just “to reach that one spot.” And though the article asserts that “what they really found no one knows,” it notes that the expedition “told different persons that they are ‘very satisfied.’” The article claims that four or five men, including Parker, Duff, and Wilson, invaded the Haram at midnight, having gained entrance by bribery, and that they lifted up a heavy stone, entered a cavern, and “took away two bags.” Before they left on their white yacht from Jaffa, they had a cup of tea. The caretaker they had bribed was in jail and suffered a further indignation: his great beard and mustache had been shaved off in public.
The same story also printed a conversation between a “very liberal” Moslem man of Jerusalem and an Englishman:
“Suppose that some Moslems entered Westminster Abbey and deliberately carried away treasure from some secret underground vault?” asked the Moslem. “What would happen?”
“War,” said the Englishman.
Thirty-Nine
The Friend
JERUSALEM, MAY 22, 1911
William E. Curtis was in San Francisco when he first heard what happened in Jerusalem. He was a correspondent for the Chicago Record-Herald and a special correspondent to the San Francisco Star. Curtis had been a journalist for decades and had seen almost every kind of story imaginable. He followed General Custer on a campaign against the Sioux and reported on the Coushatta massacre in Louisiana. He once met the gunslinger Jesse James, who stared down Curtis and told him he was not going to leave the room alive. When Curtis walked out, he had a career-making interview tucked under his arm.
When Curtis saw the news from Jerusalem, he wondered if the story had substance, or was just an empty bottle wrapped in a fancy label. Buried under the provocative ledes—“Disgrace of the Omar Mosque, Treasure Diggers. Unscientific. Escape”—was more or less the same story, with some differences, mostly in the Times piece. Curtis got to work, and his account of the incident, titled “Moslems in a Rage,” ran in the Star on May 22, 1911. But unlike the other articles, which mostly relied on wire reports and changed things to fit their column size, Curtis had something priceless on his side. He had a source. A firsthand one, at that.
“I have just received a very interesting and detailed account,” Curtis wrote, “of the occurrence from a friend who was in Jerusalem at the time. It is the first connected and intelligent narrative that I have seen [and] it was written on April 28.” He then goes on to quote the account directly:
There appeared here in 1909 a pioneer, acting mysteriously for some notable Englishmen for the acquisition of property so as to build schools or hospitals for the people in behalf of the Turkish government.… Soon Capt. Parker of the Royal Life Guards, brother of Lord Morley, Maj Wilson, the owner of a yacht that attended them; Mr. Duff, said to be connected by marriage to the Duke of Fife, and Mr. Foley … arrived with an engineer, certain overseers, and many implements for excavation. At once they set to excavating the tunnels discovered and followed for a short way by Capt. Warren. There were working at the tunnel that conveys the water from the Virgin’s Fount to the pool of Siloam. There they discovered some hitherto unknown and choked-up dummy tunnels running off southward from the main tunnel, which yielded nothing.
The facts that have most impressed people are that not one of the party is an archaeologist … This naturally led to the conclusion that they were after treasure. They were after the Ark of the Covenant.
They had two members from Parliament from Constantinople (prominent ones) attending them as who were paid £30 a month each. They enjoyed every privilege and immunity … It appears that they have a secret arrangement … to give 50 per cent of whatever they find to the government.
The “Friend” wrote about the history of Hezekiah’s Tunnel with great precision. He even marked out its exact mea
surements: “The tunnel, as measured, is 1200 cubits of sixteen inches in length.” He wrote that it ran in “no straight line” and had “several curves and one great sweep.” The account read like a recollection, not speculation:
After working for about three months, the rains came and compelled the Englishmen to stop work; so before Christmas 1909, they returned to England. The rumors about the Englishmen had started up all the Jews and presently all the land lying between their pile and the Pool of Siloam was acquired and walled up … It appeared that Baron Rothschild had furnished the money and was trying to get a concession … The government, therefore, notified the Englishmen that they must bring their work to an end within 3 years total … So it was when they returned in the fall of 1910 they worked through last winter, although we had an unusual amount of rain, and until their reckless course brought on the panic which has just caused them to flee and almost bring on a massacre.
On April 28, a report got abroad and spread like wildfire: English explorers had clandestinely explored the Mosque of Omar, penetrated even into the Sacred Rock and “The Well of the Spirits.” The sheiks, who act as guards, and the mosque attendants and the police were in their employ. There was a report that they had carried off the Crown of David, the genii-attended ring of Solomon, the two tables of stone containing the Law and the Sword of Mahomet.
The sheikhs were put in prison and the military attendants of the Englishmen were arrested as the thieves hurried to their yacht at Jaffa. After illuminating their vessel and announcing they were going to hold a reception for the officials, the Englishmen slipped away at night. Their Turkish lawyer, who was brought from Constantinople in their service, was detained. Every bit of his luggage was turned out and searched.
A commission of nine was appointed to investigate and report. The governor was implicated as were the Turks. A confession was extorted from the son of the head sheikh, that Englishmen had worked for nine nights, coming there in fezzes to avoid detection.… They cleared out the rubbish in the “Well of the Spirits” for several meters and discovered a basin whose plastered interior plainly showed marks of the different levels of the liquid (blood) that had stood in it, and were only prevented by the public excitement from going still farther.
A certain Finnish government surveyor, by name Juvelius, who developed a great love and knowledge of the Talmud and Hebrew, seems to have been at the bottom of all this matter. He claims to have discovered that by reading every seventh letter in certain passages in the Talmud (much after the fashion of the Bacon-Shakespeare cipher), the key is furnished for the recovery of the hoards of treasure in Solomon’s Temple.
The tension on the minds of the people of Jerusalem was so great and was so well realized by the military authorities that patrols were posted along the walls and in every street.… A fearful panic ensued, the peasant women and pilgrims pouring out of the walls on the enclosure and running toward the city gates crying “Massacre! Massacre!” The business places were closed up in a few minutes, every family arming itself after barricading its house.
The wildest reports were circulated—that the sheikh had been killed; that the governor had been dealt with by the mob, etc. etc. Officials were sent out to calm people. The people were urged to reopen their stores and resume business, and pretty soon everything was quite normal.
This incident will have an unfortunate effect upon other archeological investigations. The present Turkish government has been very liberal in granting permission to foreigners, but will have to be careful hereafter.
This account was the most complete summary of the expedition ever published in English and was quickly picked up by other papers based on the Curtis byline alone. Renditions of the story would be repeated many times, including by some who had actually witnessed parts of the expedition, like Bertha Vester and Cyril Foley. But this person—this Friend—whoever they were—had, unlike them, seen all of it. The new information was the most shocking, that they had indeed dug under the Well of Souls.
Chapter Forty
Dr. Juvelius
VIIPURI, FINLAND, 1911
Dr. Juvelius read the sensational news from Jerusalem at his desk in the office next to his home. He could only imagine how widely it was being spread across the world. Juvelius knew that the rioters must have gone home by now, and that it was the press, an inexhaustible flood of misinformation, that would continue to stir up controversy, at least until people were tired of hearing about it.
Juvelius knew that the expedition had gone back to Jerusalem that previous spring to resume their work. He had been regularly informed of their progress by Mr. Parker. Mazes of tunnels were still filled with rocks and gravel, but some Hebrew antiquities had been found. Valuable finds had been made. Meanwhile, Juvelius had continued to send him ciphers. And though Mr. Parker seemed unwilling to pursue the other projects as Juvelius directed, such as the tomb of Moses and the archive, he had written to Juvelius to tell him to prepare to return. Juvelius planned to join them in a month or so. But then, right before the news from Jerusalem, a strange letter arrived from Mr. Parker. It had been sent from Port Said, and then via cable to London, then mailed to him.
Work suspended. Don’t go. Closer to the letter.
Parker.
“Closer to the letter?” What did he mean? Was he referring to the cipher letter that Juvelius had sent? Were they getting closer to the Ark? Or was he referring to an actual letter, as in a character or symbol? Juvelius did not know.
Juvelius knew that the English gentlemen could never have disgraced the mosque. He knew that this recent excitement had no doubt been stirred up by something else. Secret forces had no doubt whipped up the articles in the world press. Juvelius knew that if they were in any danger, the Jerusalem governor would have warned them by express mail early enough so that they could take an ironclad train out of the city. When the rioting started, the pasha, though exposed because of their deal, probably donned a shiny suit and delayed the crowd to give the expedition more time to escape. Juvelius knew how these things went. When it was noticed that the English had escaped, the enraged people would probably attack the yacht at Jaffa. Juvelius heard that three shots were fired at them from the shore. The English escaped, though the Turks then claimed their cargo. Juvelius knew this somehow.
Juvelius wasn’t worried about the newspapers, really. They were fleeting things. He knew that because he read the old books. He knew that the unscrupulousness and humbug would be dismissed by Father Vincent when he would publish his own book. Then, Juvelius thought, they would have to try again. They had survived the dangers once; they would do so again. He had been through too much to let it stop him. He was content to stay home for a little while longer, with his wife, Hanna, and their adopted daughter, Irja.
Juvelius went back to his Bible and his counting and his writing. He was also drawing a new map. He cleared his throat. He had a slight cough. But it was nothing. It was nothing.
Forty-One
Johan Millen
STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN, DECEMBER 1915
Johan Millen looked up at the old men in the black robes. None of them looked very pleased. Some of them held books to their chests. Sturdy plaques revealed their old-fashioned names, though they were hard to read unless you stood close, and even then some of the loops and edges of the gold letters were banked with dust. Some of the men stood high in the room, others behind doors and chairs, each placed in the order of their most important discoveries or financial contribution. The portraits were ghostly at best in terms of their attentions, but to Johan Millen it was still a long way from that shabby solicitor’s office in London.
Johan Millen stood at the lectern in the auditorium of the Royal Academy of Sciences in Frescati in Stockholm. It was December 3, 1915, and his living audience was not overwhelming, but Millen was not going to miss his moment. He had waited so long to talk about the expedition.
“Is this all?” Millen said, gesturing at the gold ceiling and its crystal chandeliers, illuminated
by electric current. “We live now in the materialism of the past, so devastatingly developed … yet no one stops for a moment to reflect … is this all?” Millen looked at the wooden floor as if he could see past it somehow.
“I think that this belief is manifest in the most frightening of all conflict, war.” Millen paused for a moment. The world had been struck in the last year by a war that felt as if it was the last of them. German forces marched on France and Belgium. There was fighting even in Asia and Africa. Millen held up a book bound in leather. “In such suffering, we turn to the Bible.
“But how do you read the Bible?” asked Millen, shrugging his shoulders. “Those who have taken up a profession to ‘research’ it have a right to write and publish, though the results sometimes hardly deserve the title of a historical novel.” He smiled.
“The problem,” he said, “is that the Bible is to some extent composed of legends or oral stories, and as such has been largely unsubstantiated by us.
“To find the truth of the Bible, one must find the ‘key to the lock,’ so to speak, under which the secret meaning is hidden. It is my friend, Dr. Juvelius, a Finnish scholar, who read the Bible in Hebrew for many years until he found such a key—a cipher—in the Book of Ezekiel.”
