by Adam Palmer
‘The problem is that the writing on these fragments appears to be all one language, or at least one alphabet. In order to use it like the Rosetta Stone, we’d need a suitable candidate text in another language to compare it to.’
‘Well, if I’m right, then we already have one.’
Mansoor noticed the look on Gabrielle’s face and realized that she wasn’t backing down.
‘That’s a bit of a quantum leap in logic, Professor Gusack.’
‘Is it really? The site where we found it is a very good candidate for the real Mount Sinai—’
‘In the opinion of some people.’
‘According to the Bible, Moses smashed the original tablets of stone—’
‘If you take the Bible literally.’
‘And now we’ve found fragments of stone with ancient writing on them that appear to have been smashed, quite possibly deliberately.’
‘Well, even if you’re right, my biblical Hebrew isn’t that good. And neither is yours.’
‘Then maybe we should call in someone who has specialized knowledge of biblical languages.’
‘I’m not going to call in anyone from Israel,’ said Mansoor. ‘At least not at this stage. It would just be too controversial.’
‘I wasn’t thinking of an Israeli. The man I have in mind is British.’
‘Who?’
‘Daniel Klein.’
‘Klein?’ said Mansoor, not recognizing the name. ‘That sounds like a…’
‘He was my uncle’s star pupil,’ said Gabrielle. ‘Just like I was yours,’ she added with a twinkle in her eye.
Mansoor was silent for a moment. After a while, he nodded reluctantly. ‘Well, I guess if this Daniel Klein was Harrison Carmichael’s star pupil, then that’s good enough for me.’
‘Shall I call him?’ asked Gabrielle. ‘He knows me.’
‘Okay, you call him and introduce me and then put me on.’ Sensing her excitement, Mansoor added, ‘But let’s not tell him at this stage that we think we’ve found the original Ten Commandments.’
Chapter 4
‘This is the bread of affliction that our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt,’ Nathan Greenberg solemnly intoned.
In a house in Golders Green, Nathan Greenberg, father of three, was holding up a plate of three matzos, reciting a paragraph attesting to its significance. Nathan’s own parents and siblings lived in America, but he and his glamorous wife Julia had invited some of Julia’s extended family for the Passover seider.
The seider is a quasi-religious service performed at the dinner table before the festive meal marking the beginning of Passover in which Jewish families retell the story of the Exodus of the Israelite slaves from Egypt. ‘Bread of affliction’ was perhaps a misnomer, because it wasn’t the bread the Israelites ate when they were slaves in Egypt, but rather the bread prepared in haste when they were allowed to leave by the Egyptian Pharaoh whose will had been broken by the Ten Plagues.
But Nathan’s six-year-old daughter May and her twin sister Shari were not looking at the plate with the matzos. Their big, wide eyes were focused squarely on the area of the tablecloth just to the left of their father, under which he had placed half of the middle matzo that he had broken off and wrapped in a serviette less than a minute before. This was the afikoman – from the Greek meaning ‘leave it till later’ – so called because it was to be put aside and eaten at the end of the meal. According to a long-standing tradition, the children are supposed to ‘steal’ the afikoman and use it to bargain for presents and gifts from their beleaguered parents.
However, the twins were sitting too far away from their daddy to get their little hands on the prize, and any attempt to get up from their seats now would merely alert their father to the fact that juvenile intrigue was afoot. This was where Uncle Danny came in.
Daniel Klein, who had recently celebrated his fortieth birthday, was sitting to his brother-in-law’s immediate left. In addition to his ideal position, Daniel also had a background as an amateur magician, so it was only natural that the twins should enlist his aid in this conspiracy to commit grand larceny. However, he set a high price for putting his reputation on the line in such a criminal enterprise.
‘You must ask for a present for your little sister Romy, as well as your own presents.’
Little Romy was less than three and a half, and although she could stick up for herself, she couldn’t always explain what she wanted with quite the same clarity as her older siblings.
‘But she likes different things,’ said May.
‘And what if she wants something that costs too much money,’ said Shari, demonstrating her eminently practical side.
‘Well, why don’t you ask for a toy you can all play with?’ suggested Danny.
The twins rose to the occasion and after putting their heads together for half a minute, came up with the ideal solution.
‘We’ll ask for the play house,’ Shari announced.
The ‘play house’ in question was a colourful, flat-packed, plastic kit that they had seen on a previous visit to a toy shop and it was just the right size for all three of them to play in.
There was no time to waste now because Nathan had come to the end of his recital and was putting down the plate with the matzos, and this was the cue for the twins’ turn in the spotlight. According to an old tradition, the youngest person present at the seider asks the ‘Four Questions’ that kick-start the process of reciting the story of the Exodus. However, Romy was too young to read and so it fell on the twins to sing it as a duet. After a few nervous coughs, a shy exchange of eye contact and a little musical prompting from their mother, the twins started singing in perfect unison.
By the time they had got to the end, Daniel Klein had availed himself of the distraction to draw on his sleight-of-hand skills and take possession of the afikoman on behalf of his nieces. Oblivious to the theft that had taken place under his nose, Nathan graciously responded to his daughters’ ceremonial questions by reciting the reply.
‘We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt…’
The twins, who neither understood Aramaic nor cared for anything other than toys and getting to the food, cast a hopeful glance at Uncle Danny. He responded with a wink, prompting a smile from May and an unsuccessful attempt to wink back by Shari.
‘Al Matzot u’Morerim Yoch-lu-hu!’
They all shouted the last word of the pre-dinner service together because it meant ‘They shall eat.’ It was a desperate cry from a hungry family, anxious to get to the food after the long, drawn-out ceremony that preceded it.
Daniel Klein was starting the meal in the traditional way: dipping an egg in saltwater. The egg, like its Easter counterpart, signified rebirth and renewal – the hallmark of all religious-inspired spring festivals, whether Judeo-Christian or pagan. The saltwater symbolized the tears of the Israelite slaves.
By his own admission, Daniel was a bit of a geek, combining intellect and maturity with a childlike sense of fun. He still had the same curly brown hair that he had had as a kid and had always wanted to straighten. He was of an average height and build, and had recently started working out in the local gym to counter the first onset of middle-aged weight gain. Although he sometimes went abseiling and white-water rafting with his teenage nephews, he spent too long at the writing desk or in the lecture hall, and by his own strict standards and keen eye, his waistline was just beginning to suffer in consequence. Hence his decision – albeit at the suggestion of one of his nephews – to go on a diet and start working out. So far it was having a good effect. After an initial week of aching muscles, he was now starting to feel the benefit.
‘So why were they slaves?’ asked May, tugging at Uncle Danny’s sleeve.
Daniel swallowed and put the egg down before answering. ‘Well, it all started with Joseph’s brothers. You remember Joseph, the son of Jacob – the boy with eleven brothers.’
May nodded.
‘Didn’t he have a coat of many colours?’ asked Shari.
‘So what did they do?’
‘Well, they were so mad with him that one day they sold him to some people as a slave. And then those people sold him to some Egyptians and then he ended up in prison in Egypt.’
‘So did he get out of the prison?’ asked Shari.
‘Well, hold on. Not so fast. When he was in the prison, two of the other prisoners had dreams. And they told Joseph about them and he told them what the dreams meant.’
‘What did they mean?’ Shari pressed him.
‘They predicted the future. He told one of them that he’d be let out of prison and would get his old job back – working as a servant for the pharaoh. And it came true.’
‘What about the other one?’ asked May.
‘Oh, I don’t remember. It’s not important.’ He didn’t want to upset them with the gory details about the baker being hanged and the birds pecking at his flesh.
His sister Julia and mother Helen were bringing in the boiled and fried fishcakes – Danny’s contribution to the meal. Realizing that the Passover seider is not the ideal time for sticking to a diet, Danny took one of each, embellishing the flavour with the horseradish and beetroot sauce that was the traditional accompaniment to the dish. The twins decided to steer clear of the boiled ones altogether and to give the hot sauce a miss. Instead they picked up the fishcakes in their fingers and ate them the way children do.
‘You didn’t tell us how Joseph got out of prison,’ said May.
No peace for the wicked, thought Danny.
‘Ah yes, of course. Well, one day the pharaoh had a dream and in his dream there were seven fat cows and seven thin cows, and the seven thin cows ate the seven fat cows…’
The twins started laughing.
‘It was just a dream,’ Daniel explained to this young pair of sceptics. ‘Anyway, after eating the fat cows, the thin cows didn’t get fat. They stayed just as thin as they were before.’
‘But how could they eat the fat cows and not get fat?’ Shari asked.
Daniel smiled wryly. If he knew the answer to that one, he’d be a billionaire.
‘That’s exactly what the pharaoh wanted to know. So he asked all his advisers what the dream meant and none of them knew. Then the servant who had been in jail told him that there was a man in prison who could interpret dreams. So Pharaoh had Joseph brought to him and Joseph told him what the dream meant.’
‘And what did it mean?’ Shari asked impatiently.
‘It meant that for seven years there would be lots of food. All the crops would grow and they would have more food than they knew what to do with.’
‘Why didn’t they sell it to other people?’ Shari probed.
‘Because they would all have too much food. It wasn’t just in Egypt. All the other countries would have lots of food. But then, Joseph said, after the first seven years there would be another seven years in which there wasn’t enough food. There would be famine and the people would starve.’
‘So why didn’t they save some of the food?’ Shari said.
‘That’s exactly what they did. And that was because Joseph told Pharaoh to do that. He said they should build storehouses for the grain and save it. Then, at the end of the seven years, they would have enough grain not only to feed themselves but also to sell to the people in other countries. And the king was so pleased with Joseph that he made him prime minister.’
The twins started laughing again. Their mirth gave Daniel a chance to tuck into the chicken soup with matzoball dumplings that his sister had just placed before him.
‘And what about his brothers?’ asked May, who was very finicky about details and didn’t like loose ends.
‘Well, when the famine started, they also needed food. So they went down to Egypt to buy grain… I mean, food.’
‘And did Joseph catch them?’
‘Sort of. He saw them and decided to play a trick on them.’
‘What sort of trick?’
‘He sold them the grain and then he put the money back in the sacks with the food.’
‘But why?’ asked May.
‘He was playing a joke on them.’
‘That’s silly,’ said Shari.
May got irritated at this. ‘You mustn’t say that. It’s the Bible.’
‘I can say what I like. It’s a free country.’
‘Shush. There’s no need to fight. Yes, you can say what you like. But don’t fight.’
Shari looked down guiltily. May pressed on with her questions. ‘But you still haven’t told us how the Israelites became slaves.’
‘Okay, let’s move on,’ said Danny. ‘Because of the famine, Joseph’s brothers and their wives and children all came down to Egypt to live as there was more food there. And as time went by they had children and grandchildren and there were more and more of them. But then one day the pharaoh died and a new pharaoh came along. But he didn’t remember Joseph and all the good things he’d done for them. He only saw that there were lots of these Israelites and he was afraid of them because he thought there were too many of them and they were getting too powerful. So he made them slaves.’
‘And then he tried to drown the babies,’ said May.
‘Only the boy babies,’ Danny explained. ‘He said that all new boy babies would be drowned, but not the girls.’
‘But why?’ asked May.
‘Because he thought there were too many of them.’
‘But why not the girls?’
Danny shrugged; he wasn’t sure how to explain a patriarchal society to a six-year-old. ‘Anyway, when Moses was born, his mother wanted to save him. So she put the baby in a basket and hid him in the bulrushes on the River Nile.’
‘What’s bulrushes?’ asked Shari.
‘Just something that grows by the river. Anyway, Pharaoh’s daughter found the basket with the baby in it and she was nice. She didn’t want anyone to kill the baby so she took it home and asked her father if she could adopt it and he said yes. So she adopted the baby and brought him up as an Egyptian prince. In fact she was the one who called him Moses.’
The girls were looking at him in awe, hanging on to every word and desperate to hear more about this fascinating story. But he paused to take a generous helping of roast chicken and potatoes and served the twins who were shy about taking food for themselves. Once the twins started tucking into their food, it gave Danny a chance to enjoy his own, at least for a while.
‘Tell us some more,’ said Shari.
‘Okay, where was I?’
‘You said that Moses was an Egyptian prince.’
‘Oh, yes. Well now, this is where the story gets interesting. One day, when he was grown-up, Moses saw an Egyptian slave master beating an Israelite slave. And he was so angry that he killed the Egyptian slave master. Then, after that, he saw two Israelites having a fight with each other and he stopped them fighting and told them not to fight.’
‘Like you told us,’ said May.
‘Exactly. But when he told them not to fight, one of them got angry and said to him, “Are you going to kill us like you killed that Egyptian?” And when he said that, Moses realized that someone had seen him. And if they’d seen him, then maybe someone else had also seen him, so he was afraid. So he ran away because he knew that the pharaoh would be angry. And then he came to the burning bush.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Shari.
‘It was a bush that was on fire. It was burning and burning, but it didn’t get burned up, it just carried on burning. And then God started talking to him from the bush.’
‘What did he say?’ asked May.
‘He told Moses that he was really an Israelite not an Egyptian and he must become the leader of the Israelites and tell Pharaoh to let them go. So he went to Pharaoh and said to him, “Let my people go.
” But Pharaoh said no. So God sent the first plague.’
‘What was the first plague?’ asked May.
‘It was blood,’ said Daniel in his most theatrical tone, causing the girls to giggle. ‘God turned the River Nile into blood, so they couldn’t drink the water. And then when Pharaoh still refused to let the Israelites go free, God sent a plague of frogs. Can you imagine that? Frogs running around all over the place?’
He created a pair of imaginary frogs with his hands and showed them jumping all over the table. As the twins giggled, Daniel and his sister exchanged a smile. It was her quiet way of thanking him for keeping the little ones entertained.
By the time he’d got to the Egyptian army drowning in the Red Sea, Shari had gone off to the couch and fallen asleep and May was finding it hard to keep her eyes open. Julia came over and asked her if she wanted to go to bed. May nodded, gave Daniel a hug and then went off to her room with her mother.
Amidst all the noise and clatter in the room. Daniel almost missed the sound of his mobile phone ringing.
‘Hallo,’ he said, moving to the hallway so that he could conduct a proper conversation without having to strain to hear the other end of the line.
‘Hallo Danny,’ said a woman’s voice faintly.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s Gaby. Gaby Gusack.’ She didn’t normally call herself Gaby. But she made an exception for Danny – sometimes.
‘Oh, hi Gaby.’
Two memories swept over him in quick succession: the almost-forgotten fifteen-year-old girl with a crush on him from his days as a PhD student and the tall, supremely self-confident woman that he had worked with on a recent archaeological dig in Jerusalem.
‘Listen, I’m calling from the University of Cairo. I’m with Professor Akil Mansoor.’
‘The head of the Egyptian Antiquities Authority?’
‘That’s right. He’d like to speak to you.’
Daniel was familiar with some of Mansoor’s statements, as well as his deeds, and he hadn’t exactly warmed to him. But if Mansoor wanted to speak to him, then evidently there must be some matter of mutual interest, and Daniel had no desire to seem rude to anyone, let alone a fellow academic.
