by Adam Palmer
“And what if Daniel or Ted greet me and let the cat out of the bag?”
Dovi thought for a moment.
“That could be a problem.”
“And why don’t we just warn them?”
“We haven’t got a contact number. They both lost their phones in the explosion.”
“Knowing Daniel, he would have got a new one at the first opportunity and given the number to all his contacts.”
“Maybe he did, but we’re not on his contact list.”
“And he hasn’t contacted me either.”
“There is something else Sarit.”
“What?”
“We had a call from his father.”
“Whose father?”
“Daniel’s. He was acting on his son’s instructions. It seems that Daniel and Ted were at Solomon’s Stables last night.”
“Solomon’s Stables?”
“Yes. Or rather the mosque that was built there ten years ago.”
“What were they doing there?”
“Exploring the water cisterns and tunnels. Apparently they thought they might find some relics or artefacts there.”
“And did they?”
“No. But an attempt was made to kill them. Instead an Arab who was helping them was killed. And now we’ve got to enter into some delicate diplomacy with the Waqf to handle the situation.”
“And we know all this because…”
“He told his father.”
“And did he tell his father something that might actually help us, like where he was going now?”
“We think so.”
“Think so?”
“His father claimed that he didn’t know. But we think that’s because Daniel requested it. He presumably doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s looking for artefacts without permission of the Antiquities Authority. But we know that’s where HaTzadik and Bar Tikva are going… and we know they think that Daniel is going there too. So I think it’s a pretty safe bet.”
“And you want me to go there to cover his ass?”
“It would be nice to have some one there who has his interests at heart… and the skill to protect them. But it’s up to you.”
Sarit had already been thinking about it and her mind was already made up.
“I’ll go.”
Chapter 79
“It’s magnificent,” said Ted as the cable car carried them up toward the top of Masada. Through the glass, Ted saw the plateau draw ever closer while in the other direction the ground receded and the panorama of the desert and the dead sea unfolded before his eyes. They had eschewed walking up the snake path, favouring the practicality of saving their strength for the exploration they had yet to undertake, over the experience of treading that ancient path cut into the pinkish grey rock.
When the cable car arrived at the top and its doors opened, they stepped out onto wooden walkway, that led to an entrance: the snake path gate. The entrance was an archway and inside it they found temporary shelter from the intense sunlight. Sitting down on the stucco benches, they tried to get their bearings and work out a strategy.
“There’s a tourist shop,” said Daniel, pointing to the side.
“Do you need it?” asked Ted.
“Not for myself. But you can get a guidebook there – or even a headset to listen to the commentary.”
“That’ll only slow us down,” said Ted. “I’ll listen to your commentary. And if I’ve got any questions I’ll ask.”
And with that, they walked through the arch on the other side that led them across paving stones and onto the ruins of a mountain fortress that had become the stuff of legend. As they walked across the open surface, they felt the morning sun beating down upon them. Even at this early hour the solar rays were harsh. By mid-day they would be oppressive. But at least there were few people about at this time. They almost had the site to themselves.
Ted looked around to take in the view. Masada was essentially a giant table in the Judean Desert – a rock plateau with walls that were cliffs rising 1300 feet above the surrounding ground to the east and 300 feet to the west, the difference being due to the relative heights of the surrounding bedrock. Although less than 200 feet above sea level, it’s positioning in the Dead Sea Rift valley meant that its plateau stood 1500 feet above the surface of the Dead Sea.
From where Ted stood, it was hard to see some of the edges of the plateau. It’s shape was rhombic, nearly 1800 feet on its longest axis and half that on its shortest. Although essentially a ruin, parts had been rebuilt, whilst remnants of other parts had been exposed to hip height by archaeology. In one direction stood the reconstructed Northern Palace and in another, the massive Western Palace.
“So where do we go?” asked Ted.
“Let’s start over there,” said Daniel, pointing straight ahead to an area marked “Quarry”.
He led the way to an open area, marked off by a protective metal rail. The reason for the rail was obvious. There was a very large hole on the ground, maybe fifteen feet across exposing large amounts of rock.
“This must be where they quarried the stone to make the round stone blocks that they rolled down the hill onto the Romans – as well as the arrowheads and spears.”
“They must have given the Romans quite a run for their money,” said Ted, nodding approvingly.
“Interestingly, Josephus doesn’t actually describe any resistance. The way he tells it, they just sat here, like sitting ducks until it became clear that they were doomed and then they chose death over slavery, rape and defilement. The men killed their wives and children, then they drew lots and chose ten men to kill the others – to avoid the Biblical injunction against suicide and finally their leader Eleazer ben Yair killed the other ten. Not that Josephus was there. He based his account on the survivors.”
“There were survivors?”
Ted was surprised.
“Two women allegedly from Eleazer Ben Yair’s own family and five children. They allegedly hid in the water cisterns.”
“Allegedly.”
“As I’ve said before, Josephus’s account isn’t unbiased. He characterizes the mass suicide as murder, portraying it as a wicked and barbaric act, ignoring what the Romans would have done to the people had they survived. And there are other discrepancies.”
But Ted was only half listening. He was leaning on the metal rail, looking down at the quarry, concentrating on the an opening at the side of the bottom of the hole and how it appeared to lead off to the side.
“Do you suppose that leads anywhere?” he asked, pointing to the opening.
Daniel stared long and hard at the narrow opening.
“It could, I suppose. But I have a feeling it’s just a couple of extra feet in – and in any case too narrow to crawl.”
“But something could be put there. Like some of the other finds.”
“Anything hidden there would have been found by now. This is part of the well-excavated area, don’t forget.”
Daniel led on to an open area, with Ted following more slowly and looking around. Daniel had been here a number of times. Ted, in contrast, though familiar with the story from his many years of scholarship, had yet to actually set his eyes upon these ancient stones. So this was a new experience for him.
“These were the store rooms,” Daniel explained.
Rooms was perhaps not the right word. Archaeological excavation had exposed the walls to a height of maybe eighteen inches, but it was essentially a ruin and there was no ceiling.
“Presumably this is all that was left after the Romans wreaked their vengeance.”
“It’s more complex than that. This is actually a reconstruction. There were twenty three store rooms in all. The first seventeen were built as one room, which was later subdivided. Then six more were added. This part here is the southern side of the access corridor. As you can see, each room is 27 metres by four.”
“What do you mean a reconstruction?”
“It was actually an earthquake that broug
ht the walls down. But the room was set on fire and the wooden beams brought down.”
Daniel paused, as he remembered what had happened to him in the house in Ashwell, when this little adventure had started. He continued speaking.
“When Yigael Yadin excavated this site in the sixties, he found a thick layer of ash on the ground from the fire. The large ceramic vessels that stored various items had been smashed, although they’d been smashed from the side, as if in a deliberate act of destruction, rather than by the collapsing ceiling. This confirmed what Josephus had written. Anyway, Yadin decided to erect the walls again.”
“Were the storage jars empty?”
“No that’s another thing. They were full or partly full. According to Josephus, the Jewish leaders at Masada didn’t want the Romans to think that they were killing themselves because they had run out of food, so they didn’t actually destroy the food, but left it intact.”
“And what was in the vessels?”
“Various things: oil, flower, wine. And the vessels were marked with names or single letters. Possibly heads of household – although that would imply familial ownership and clash with the idea of a collectivist community. Also some of the vessels bore inscriptions like “fit for the purpose of holiness” – the word for fit is ‘kosher’ – or in other cases warnings like “these jars are disqualified.”
“And where are these jars now?”
“In the Masada Museum, down below. We can look at them later. Let’s go on.”
“Where to?”
“The bathhouse.”
The bath house was still standing. Although a ruin, it’s features could still be made out. It consisted of three chambers: the cold room, the tepid room and a hot room. The hot room was the main one, heated by a hypocaust that was heated by an oven outside the building. One could still see a few remaining patches of the frescoes that had once adorned the walls. But most of the black and white tiles of the mosaic floor were gone. In their place one could see the stone pillars that supported the upper floor and separated it from the lower so that hot air from the oven could be circulated and hot water pipes run in to feed the large pool.
“This was the main public bath house. There’s a smaller one on the lower terrace of the Northern Palace near here, that was probably originally a private bath house for Herod the Great and his family.”
“How many people were here? I mean when the rebels made their last stand.”
“Ah yes, Ted, now that’s a very interesting question. You see they had enough weapons for an army of ten thousand. Josephus says there were 967 fighters.”
“That seems like a very exact number.”
“Exactly. And that’s one of the reasons for scepticism. Especially as only thirty bodies or skeletons have ever been found. And twenty five of those were in a cave at the foot of the mountain and some scholars now believe that they were Romans.”
“Some scholars?”
“Well they were re-buried , by the State of Israel, with full military honours. But even at the time, some sceptical voices were raised. Firstly they were originally buried with pig bones. Jews wouldn’t do that.”
“Maybe it was a deliberate act of defilement,” Ted suggested. “The victors gloating over the vanquished.”
“That’s possible. But there were other factors. Like the fact that they were powerfully built – suggesting professional soldiers rather than volunteers defending their homeland. The fact that they were found at the bottom the mountain.”
“You said that twenty five of them were found in the cave at the foot of the mountain. What about the other five?”
“Well a man in his early twenties, a woman of about seventeen or eighteen and a child of twelve were found in the Northern Palace. And two men were found in the public bathhouse. But what was interesting is something else they found in the public bathhouse. A full head of woman’s hair cut off with a sharp instrument while she was still alive.”
“Do you mean a skull?”
“No, just the hair… and no body or skeleton.”
Ted found this deeply puzzling.
“What does it mean?”
“Well one theory is that she was a foreign woman – possibly attached to the Roman encampment – who was captured when Masada was seized from the Romans at the start of the rebellion. There’s a passage in Deuteronomy that says that if a woman is captured in war, her head must be shaved and her captor must then wait a month before having sex with her. Presumably the idea was to make her less attractive and to discourage him from doing so. But later it became a general practice to cut the hair off female captives.”
“But why would they have a woman out here? Would she have already been a slave? A camp follower?”
“That’s anyone’s guess. But I’m just wondering if she could our enigmatic author of the Domus Aurea and Temple Mount Parchments… AKA Boudicca’s daughter.”
“Lanosea.”
“Exactly.”
They went outside and looked around a bit. Ted was looking at one of the inscribed metal plaques that offered explanations of the nearby features.
“You said before that the five survivors were found hiding in one of the cisterns.”
“Yes.”
“Well it says here that there was a major water cistern here. That water was collected below and brought up by donkey. There’s a Watergate down there. I think we need to check it out.”
“It’s a fascinating place to look at, but it’s at a lower level. That means a long walk down followed by an equally long walk up.”
“I think it’s worth it,” said Ted.
“Maybe later if we’ve got time.”
“But isn’t it possible that we might find something there… something that’ll fill in the last piece of the puzzle?”
“There’s a problem Ted. Of all the places at Masada, the Northern Palace is the one that’s been excavated the most. Followed by the Western Palace.”
“I know,” Ted replied. “I remember you saying that at your parents’ place.”
“My point is that we’re unlikely to find anything there – short of doing some seriously destructive digging that would get us arrested. And anyway, we haven’t got the equipment. Whatever was there to be found, has been found already.”
“So where do we go from here?”
“Well the southern side has been excavated to some extent. But the one area that’s been neglected so far, is the eastern side. Paradoxically that’s the side we came up on – the side with the cable car and the Snake Path.”
Daniel led Ted back, almost the way they came and past the entrance to the eastern side.
“What are those?”
Ted had stopped to look at some not particularly big holes in the ground that appeared to have some mini caverns leading off them like mini bus shelters carved into the stone. They were marked off from the area that could be entered by metal railings. By now, Ted was looking at the metal plaque that explained.
“Dwelling caves, used by anchorite monks in Byzantine age.”
“Yes. I was reading. Do you think there could be anything down there?”
“They don’t look big enough. And they don’t lead anywhere. What you see is what you get. And again, anything that could have been found probably has been.”
Daniel led on to another area nearby, a large roped off area including a wooden bridge. A warning sign read; “Danger! Under construction. No passage.”
“What’s this?” asked Ted, catching up.
“The eastern cistern. This is probably where the survivers hid. This is the sewage cistern, rather than a fresh water cistern. So it would be wider and thus more likely to accommodate people. It predates Herod and goes back to the Hasmonean dynasty, who built the original fortress before Herod developed it. But it was later renovated by the Byzantines.”
“So again, not much to be found.”
But this time, Daniel was not so dismissive.
“Here at least there would have been more
room to hide something. And the Byzantines who came here were anchorite Christians like I said. They rejected worldly possessions – a bit like the Essenes were supposed to have done according to Josephus, Philo and Pliny.”
But he wasn’t looking at Ted when he said this. He was looking at a very large open hole and an opening that seemed to branch off sideways from that hole. Unlike the quarry, this opening looked big enough to admit the passage of people, as he had suggested before when discussing the sewage cistern. And apart from a warning sign and the possibility that they might be challenged, there appeared to be nothing to stop them taking a closer look.
Chapter 80
“Masada,” the bus driver called out.
Shalom and Baruch Tikva looked nervously at each other as they stood up and got off the bus. There were only a handful of others getting off. Some of the bus passengers had got off earlier at the Dead Sea resorts of Ein Fashkha and Ein Gedi. Others were going on to the beach hotels at Ein Bokek. But about half a dozen were getting off here at Masada, so they would not be completely alone. They had just managed to get the eight O’clock bus and it was now 9:40, still relatively early.
“Do you think they are here yet?” asked Bar-Tikva.
“If so we will see them. And if not we will be waiting for them.”
Bar-Tikva smiled at his father’s reassuring wisdom.
In the heat of the sun, it was a long, tiring walk from the forecourt where the bus had stopped to the area they had to get to. Although they were taking the cable car from the tourist centre on the ground, they had to walk up a steep, paved slope and up some stairs, to get there.
When they got to the ticket office, they thought that it was rather expensive – especially for the cable car both ways. Shalom was even ready to walk. But his son realized that although he could climb the Snake Path, it would be a problem for his father. The Ramp Path on the side of the town of Arad would have been easier, but it was too late for that now. Without private transport, there was no way that they could get to it.
So they paid up, grumbling the whole time, and then waited until there were enough people for the operators to justify the use of the cable car. Some ten minutes later, they were atop the mountain fortress where pious Jews had made their last stand against the strangers who had sought to impose alien values and false Gods upon them.
