by Steve Berry
For 380 years those treasures stayed in Rome. Then in 455 CE. Vandals sacked the city. A Byzantine historiographer wrote that the Vandal leader, “with no one to stop him entered Rome and taking all the money and the ornaments of the city, he loaded them on his ships, among them the solid gold and bejeweled treasures of the Church and the Jewish vessels which Vespasian’s son Titus had brought to Rome after the capture of Jerusalem.”
The Temple treasure was taken south to the African city of Carthage, and there it remained from 455 to 533 CE until the Byzantines conquered the Vandals. Another chronicler described the victor’s triumphant return to Constantinople in 534. “And there was also silver weighing many thousands of talents and all of the royal treasure and among these were the treasures of the Jews, which Titus, the son of Vespasian, had brought to Rome after the capture of Jerusalem.”
The Emperor Justinian displayed the Jewish treasure at various sites around the city. Though one of the greatest Byzantine leaders, Justinian was extremely unpopular, and that discontent finally fermented into open revolt. A contemporary from the time reported, “And one of the Jews, seeing these things, approached one of those known to the emperor and said, ‘These Temple treasures, I think it inexpedient to carry them into the palace in Byzantium. Indeed, it is not possible for them to be elsewhere than in the place where Solomon, the king of the Jews, formerly placed them. For it is because of these that the Vandals captured the palace of the Romans and how we captured the Vandals.’ When this had been brought to the ears of the emperor, Justinian became afraid and quickly sent everything to the sanctuaries of the Christians in Jerusalem.”
“Justinian was superstitious and paranoid,” Alle said to Brian. “He allowed an anonymous Jewish courtier to spook him with the fact that all of the civilizations that had possessed the Temple treasure since 70 CE had crumbled. First the Jews, then Rome, then the Vandals. Would he be next? So sometime between 535 and 554 CE he ordered the Temple treasure returned to the Holy Land.”
Brian cast a doubtful look. “Simon is after the Temple treasure?”
She nodded. “The three holiest objects in all of Judaism. They never made it to the Holy Land. History lost track of all three when they left Constantinople. Zachariah said my grandfather knew where they were hidden. That he was the Levite, the only person alive who knew the location. He said whatever I buried with him would lead us there.”
“For what? Not its worth. He’s a billionaire.”
“He wants to restore it to the Jews.”
“And you believed him?”
She wanted to know something. “What’s your interest?”
“Tell me the rest. How do you fit into this?”
After Rome sacked Jerusalem in 70 CE and the Second Temple was razed, over 80,000 Jews were deported from Judea to the Iberian peninsula—which, at that time, lay at the extreme western reaches of the Roman Empire. More Jews immigrated there over time, until a thriving community formed that came to be known as Sephardim.
Life for Jews there was tolerable since the emerging Catholic Church had difficulty establishing itself so far west. The Visigoths, who ruled the land, did not convert until 587 CE. This began what became a recurring phenomenon in Iberian policy—Jews were ordered to either become Christians or be expelled. Many did convert, becoming the first conversos, maintaining their Jewish identity in secret while openly professing to be something else. Tens of thousands either left or were expelled. Periods of tolerance and intolerance followed. Property seizures occurred frequently, especially when Jewish assets were needed by monarchs. When the Moors invaded Iberia in 711, Jews welcomed them as liberators. Life under Moorish rule became the Golden Age for Sephardi Jews. Their numbers grew, as more immigrated.
But the Reconquista changed everything.
Christians slowly reclaimed Iberia and forced conversions, engaging in pogroms. By 1400 Jews had become a focus of Spanish hatred. To avoid death or persecution thousands more converted to Christianity, creating a new wave of conversos. Laws that restricted Jewish industry eventually brought commerce to a standstill. Soil was left uncultivated, finances were disturbed. Entire communities were destroyed, many more reduced to poverty. In order to restore the Spanish economy the Crown tried to draw Jews back to the country by offering them privileges.
Which worked, but it also bred resentment from Christians.
When Ferdinand and Isabella ascended the throne and completed the Reconquista in 1492, expelling the last of the Moors from Spanish soil, they issued an edict that all Jews must either convert or leave Spain.
They also reinstituted the Inquisition to root out false conversos.
165,000 Jews chose to leave.
Many stayed and kept their secret.
Many more were slaughtered.
“How much of that is you and how much came from Simon?” Brian asked.
“I’m not ignorant of Jewish history,” she made clear. “It’s what I’ve studied.”
“I didn’t say that you were. I just need to know what that crazy man is trying to do.”
“He told me a story. I don’t know if it’s true. But it was quite amazing. About the Jews in Spain, at the time Columbus sailed.”
“Tell me.”
“Why should I?”
“Because your father’s life depends on it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
TOM DROVE INTO ORLANDO AND FOLLOWED A ROUNDABOUT path to his house. He needed to retrieve his passport. He’d already stopped at a local library and used one of their computers to book a flight out of New York that would eventually land him in Bratislava, Slovakia. The overnight leg across the Atlantic departed New York at 8:00 P.M. To get there he would have to take a plane from Jacksonville. He thought that safer than using the Orlando airport, which Simon might be watching. The drive north was all interstate highway, about two and a half hours. He’d have to change planes again in London, but should be on the ground in Slovakia in plenty of time. From there he would rent a car and drive across the Austrian border to Vienna, about forty miles away.
He parked a block over and approached his house from the rear. He kept an eye out for anything that might cause alarm, but the neighborhood was quiet. He entered through the back door and realized that the measure of comfort he’d always felt here was gone. This place now reeked of insecurity and all he wanted to do was leave. He quickly changed clothes, found his passport and a jacket, grabbed the few hundred dollars he always kept on hand, and left. He’d buy along the way whatever was necessary. It felt like the old days when he was chasing leads, piecing tendrils, hoping the dots would eventually connect into a story. He’d handled things right today, anticipating his adversary’s move, staying one step ahead. His daughter was counting on him and this time he was not going to let her down.
He also seemed privy to something extraordinary—a secret his family had apparently been part of for a long while.
Which, despite everything, excited him.
He stepped out the door and headed back toward his car.
One thing bothered him, though.
Zachariah Simon agreed to the terms far too easily.
Sources too cooperative had always made him nervous.
He wondered.
Had he made a mistake?
———
ZACHARIAH BOARDED THE CHARTERED JET. HE DID NOT OWN A plane. Waste of money. Far cheaper to rent. This one had been waiting for him at Orlando’s Sanford International Airport, a smaller facility north of the city. He wondered from where Tom Sagan would leave America. Surely not from Orlando. The man was certainly smarter than that. But he didn’t care. He wanted the former reporter in Vienna, and he would do nothing to interfere with that journey.
He sat in one of the plush seats and fastened his seat belt. The jet’s engines were already humming. Cool air rushed from the overhead vents. Rócha, after stowing their bags, joined him.
“It’s too bad she’s dead,” he said, referring to Alle. “I may have been hasty there.
”
Rócha shrugged. “Jamison knew right where to look.”
Which was a problem that required attention. A spy in his midst? Without question. He also had to talk with Béne Rowe and find out why the Jamaican was stalking him. He’d underestimated Rowe’s desire to find Columbus’ lost mine. He’d volunteered only enough information to prove that he knew what he was talking about.
But maybe not enough.
“It’s a grave I am looking for,” he said to Rowe. “That’s what we must find. The grave of the Levite.”
“What does that do?”
“The Levite is the person who guarded the secret of the mine. He alone knew its location. He would pass that information on to someone else before he died. But it’s possible that may not have occurred. My father once found a clue in a Levite’s grave. Look for a pitcher carved into the tombstone. That was the symbol of the Levite. And a hooked X. That has to be there, too.”
He could not care less about any lost mine of Christopher Columbus. What he sought was far more valuable. But if thoughts of finding that mine would spur Béne Rowe into action, then why not use it? When he first approached Rowe, what he sought was a lead to the Levite. But his initial conversations with Rowe occurred long before he found Alle Becket and learned that the current Levite lived not on Jamaica but in central Florida.
And he’d been right.
The secret had been taken to the grave.
He’d actually forgotten about Rowe. They’d teamed over a year ago, the result of him trying to find someone in Jamaica who shared his passion and would search. He’d met Brian Jamison early on. Rowe’s man. Smart, resourceful, American.
The jet taxied toward the runway.
Unfortunately, he could not ignore Rowe any longer.
———
BÉNE SAT ON THE VERANDA AND SURVEYED HIS ESTATE. STORM clouds were rolling in from the north across the Blue Mountains, distant thunder announcing their arrival. It rained a lot here, which was good for the coffee beans.
The great house, a Georgian mansion cast in a Creole style, sat on the crest of a gentle slope. It had been built between 1771 and 1804 by a British plantation owner. White stone walls still stood in stark contrast with lush green woodlands. That Brit had been one of the first to grow coffee. The beans were initially imported in 1728 and quickly flourished. Though it took longer for coffee to ripen in the cooler air, the result was a fuller quality. Today only 9,000 acres in all of Jamaica lay above the minimum 600 meters required by national standards to qualify as Blue Mountain Coffee. His father had set those standards, knowing that all of the Rowe acreage lay high enough. Once, pulperies sat beside the fields so beans could be processed quickly. Modern transports now made that unnecessary. But what came out of the pulperies continued to be dried, graded, then sorted only after six weeks of curing. No other coffee in the world did that. He was proud of his land and the estate, especially the house, which he’d spent millions refurbishing. No more slaves worked here. Most were Maroons whom he paid an above-average wage.
The stone from the Levite’s grave sat on a table before him. He’d cleaned it, carefully washing away the dark earth, exposing the hooked X. His drive back across the mountains from Charles Town had been troubling. Frank Clarke told him things he’d never known. He was irritated that his friend had held out on him so long, but he should not be surprised. He wondered—was there a connection between the Taino myth of the cave of importance, the Maroon legend of a place with an iron gate, the Jews’ supposed hidden wealth, and Columbus’ lost mine?
Four tales.
Similar, yet different.
Separating one from the other might prove difficult. Could the deed that Felipe found point the way? He hoped Tre Halliburton had been successful in the archives. He’d not heard from his friend.
His fingers caressed the stone.
Such a strange symbol.
What was its significance?
His cell phone vibrated. Few possessed the number, mainly his lieutenants. He studied the display and saw that the call was from Zachariah Simon. He allowed it to ring four times. Let him wait. After the seventh he answered.
“I realize that I have treated you poorly,” Simon said.
“You lied to me.”
“I simply failed to tell you what I was doing outside Jamaica. But actually, that is none of your business.”
“If it concerns that lost mine, then it is my business. And what you’re doing in Florida definitely concerns the mine.”
“I am aware,” Simon said, “that you know of my activities.”
“You lied to me,” he said again.
“There is more at stake here than simply finding lost gold.”
“Not for me.”
“I appreciate what you did when I was in Jamaica. The information you provided was interesting, but not anything I did not already know. I felt that I was offering far more than you could in return.”
He stared out at the mountains and the coming storm. “I wouldn’t underestimate what I can offer.”
Simon chuckled through the phone. “Come now, Béne, let us not be unrealistic. This quest is more far reaching than your island. It is a secret, guarded for five hundred years. Maybe some of the clues lie there, but the answer is definitely elsewhere.”
“Vienna?”
Jamison had already called and informed him of what had happened in a Florida orange grove. He assumed Simon had driven from that grove to an airport and was now aboard a plane.
“You are well informed,” Simon said. “What is it you want, Béne?”
“To be told the truth. To be treated as an equal. To be respected.”
“And what do you offer in return?”
“Something you may be in great need of.”
“And what might that be?”
“Alle Becket.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I N THE MIDDLE OF THE 6TH CENTURY THE B YZANTINE EMPEROR Justinian ordered the Jews’ Temple treasure removed from Constantinople. He believed it cursed and wanted the sacred objects sent back to the Holy Land. Simply melting the gold and silver down and reusing the precious metals would not, to his way of thinking, remove the curse. Only their banishment would suffice. The emperor entrusted the task to subordinates, who contracted with local merchants to transport the treasure by boat to the south. All three objects—the golden menorah, the Table of Divine Presence, and the silver trumpets—were loaded on board.
But once out of sight of land, the captain and crew—all Jews—turned west and sailed around the boot of Italy, then north toward Iberia. There the three treasures were brought ashore and entrusted to the Sephardim. Many were distant descendants of those forced into exile by the Romans when the Second Temple was destroyed. Finally, after 470 years, their Temple treasures had been returned.
And these men would not risk losing them again.
The treasures were secreted away in the mountains, where they stayed for nearly a thousand years, guarded by more descendants of those same Sephardi.
That millennium was a turbulent one. For a while Jews flourished in safety, but by the 4th century, when Christianity finally consumed the Roman Empire, Jews were again persecuted. Many, though, had acquired prominent positions in the trades and crafts serving as tax collectors, financial ministers, treasurers, bankers, and astronomers. Kings relied on them. The Catholic Church came to resent their influence and began a campaign to destroy them. Pogroms regularly occurred, the worst in the 14th century when tens of thousands were massacred, their wealth and property confiscated. Ferdinand and Isabella finally expelled all Jews, forcing them to sell their homes, lands, shops, and cattle at low prices. No gold or silver was allowed to be taken from the country, so they were compelled to exchange hard wealth for goods. One hundred and twenty thousand fled to Portugal on an agreement with its king, who eventually reneged on his promise of safety and enslaved them. Others went to North Africa, but found no refuge from the Moors. Even more tried Italy and Turkey,
but only pain and sorrow followed. By August 3, 1492, the day Columbus sailed from Spain on his first voyage, the situation for the Sephardi Jews seemed hopeless.
“So they tried something desperate,” Alle said. “The only thing they thought might work.”
Brian was clearly listening.
“Their world had crumbled. They had no where to go. Europe. Africa. Nobody wanted them. So they hoped that there might be a better place across the ocean in Asia. Where Columbus was headed.”
“You’re saying that Christopher Columbus was looking for a Jewish homeland?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. There were tales at the time of a place to the east where Jews lived free. Was it real? Nobody knew. But myths were all these people had. There had to be something better than where they were. Do you know who actually financed Columbus’ first voyage? It wasn’t Isabella selling her jewels, as the story is told. The Spanish monarchy was broke. There was no money for foolish ventures, and that’s what they thought of Columbus’ idea. Instead, it was the Jews who financed that voyage.”
Brian was visibly surprised.
“Luis de Santangel was a converso, a Jew from Aragon, who converted to keep what he’d worked his life to obtain. His family served in government, and when Ferdinand needed money, he went to the de Santangels. Unfortunately, they were among the first targets of the Inquisition and Luis was brought to trial. Ferdinand himself finally intervened on his behalf. Luis knew the king’s deepest secrets. He took care of the most difficult state business. Ferdinand needed him, so he was spared. It was de Santangel who convinced the king and queen to support Columbus. But they agreed only after de Santangel staked 17,000 ducats of his own money on the venture. Three other conversos added their money. The Spanish Crown had nothing to lose.”
“Why have I never heard of this before?” Brian asked.
“Because no one wants to acknowledge that Columbus could have been a Jew, and that Jews paid for his discovery of the New World. But it’s true. I’ve seen the originals of de Santangel’s account books in the archives at Simancas. They clearly show the money being advanced, and what it was advanced for.”
