by Adam Palmer
“But why does all this bother you so much?” asked Daniel. “To the point of killing people who have done you know harm.”
“You have done us immense hard, Professor Klein. Even if you don’t realize it.”
“But how?”
“You know about the Dead Sea Scrolls – dozens of ancient manuscripts found in the caves of Qumran over the course of a decade, starting in 1946 when an Arab shepherd boy made the initial find?”
It was more of a rhetorical question really. Of course Daniel knew about the finds of nearly a thousand ancient scrolls from the first century, some books of the Bible, some part of the post-Biblical record of the Second Temple period and some a contemporary record of the life and times of the people who kept them.
Daniel nodded.
“Well in addition to the known finds, Professor Klein, there were also some finds that were… shall we say… removed from the scene and sold privately. Does that surprise you?”
“I know that there have been cases of theft of archaeological finds Israel. So I suppose the answer is no, it doesn’t surprise me.”
“Well would it surprise you then to know that one of those documents was some surviving parts of Josephus’s original Aramaic manuscript of the Wars of the Jews?”
Now that did surprise Daniel. And from the look on Ted’s face it left him surprised too. In fact it left them both feeling like they’d been kicked in the ribs.
Chapter 84
Sarit just missed the cable car and had to wait for the next one to arrive a minute or so later. She wanted to get in but the operator tried to stop her, saying that it wouldn’t be leaving for a few minutes. But Sarit had no intention of waiting. She flashed her badge and ordered the operator to take her up right away. The cable car arrived and not a minute too soon. Sarit got in first and waited while the others filed in. The operator complied and let her in.
As he closed the door, he noticed a man running towards it, from the ticket office. He looked at Sarit as if to ask whether he should wait for the man. But the implacable look on Sarit’s face made it clear that she wasn’t in the mood for waiting.
As the cable car rose into the air, she turned and saw the man who had caught the operator’s intention.
Well saw was perhaps not the right word. For as Sarit turned towards the man, he for his part turned away.
Chapter 85
“It was sold to us by a corrupt Jordanian official – for a large sum of money, I might add. We spent many months studying it. We knew that it was the work of a Jewish traitor, but we wanted to know how much truth – or how little – there was in it.”
“And?”
“What it told us was a horror story. It was not just Boudicca’s daughter who came here from Britain, but a whole host of her people. Maybe not a vast army, but certainly more than just a small party. She came with a large entourage of handmaids and ladies in waiting. There were some men to – or at least boys who soon grew into men, cutting their teeth in a guerrilla war in Rome, culminating in the Great Fire of 1964. They weren’t just a small band of followers. Many of the women were the widows of the warrior leaders of the uprising of the Icheni.”
“You knew that they were called Icheni?” Ted intervened.
“Oh yes! And we also realized that it had been misread when translated. Josephus’s handwriting had a peculiarity that caused him to almost completely close off the Kaf, making it look like a Samech. He didn’t just do it once; he did throughout the manuscript, or at least the portions that we found. Thus the myth of the Essenes was born. Until then, the stories about the Essaoi by Philo and Pliny – written and pronounced differently – had been legends about ascetics. Josephus’s Icheni became confused and conflated with them.”
“But there were some ascetics amongst the Judeans,” said Daniel. “Josephus even travelled around Judea in the company of one for about three years.”
“Yes, that is true. There were such people amongst the Judeans, but they were few and far between. However with Josephus’s manuscript being misread by the Greek translator and apparently referring to the Esseni, the floodgates to a new myth were opened.”
Ted was confused by this line of reasoning.
“But why would a few misunderstood references to a relatively small number of refugees from Roman Britain, give rise to such a powerful and sweeping legend?”
“To understand that, you must understand what really happened. The vanquished peoples of Britain didn’t just come here and keep themselves to themselves. They intermarried with some of the Jewish rebels, following the depraved corrupt example of Simon Bar Giora. And this was the cause of the great division among our people that set brother against brother!”
“How so?” asked Ted, still far from convinced.”
“Although our religion permits conversion and receives sincere converts, it must be based on true belief, not just a desire for marriage, And it must be done in a proper way, according to Halacha – Jewish law.”
“And these conversions didn’t?”
“In some cases, there were no conversions. Just impure marriages. But others were against it, even at the time.”
“That’s why they kidnapped his wife,” said Ted. “That’s why the Jerusalem rebels didn’t want to elevate him as a leader of the rebellion – because he was married to a stranger.”
“Exactly,” said HaTzadik. “Just as his followers were married to others in her entourage. They were deemed to be a poison in our system, a leprosy in the camp, a cancer in our midst. And the other rebels wanted to destroy them, to render our people pure again. But Bar Giora used the violent methods that he had learned from a woman – who had learned them in turn from her mother – to force the righteous among us to release the vile woman and her entourage unharmed. And it didn’t end there.”
“What do you mean?” asked Daniel, sensing from HaTzadik’s tone that something terrible and new was coming.
“As I said, many of the entourage married and intermingled. But a DNA study in 2006 showed that forty percent of Ashkenazi Jews are descended from just four women dating back to the first century of the Common Era – four women with a genotype that is more common in Europe than the Middle East. Based on Josephus’s manuscript, we believe that we know the names of those four women. Boudicca’s daughter and three other women in her entourage.”
“But that’s an incredible finding!” Ted blurted out, not quite realizing how Shalom Tikva’s mind was working. “That’s a major discovery that sheds new light on your people.
“Incredible and major to you, but horrendous to us!”
“But why?”
“I would not expect a goy to understand! Our religion is based on the premise of matrilineal transmission or orthodox conversion according to Halacha. We cannot let it be known that forty percent of Ashkenazi Jews are the descendents of non-Jewish women.”
Now it was Daniel’s turn for confusion. He could understand the historic concern with ethnicity in the religion. But why would matter today? The wife of Moses was a convert. Ruth – the grandmother of King David – was a convert. Why should this matter in the modern era?
“But that DNA study has already been published. You can hardly conceal it now.”
“The DNA study says nothing about the identities of those women… or their religion or ethnicity. Or whether or not they converted according to Halacha.”
“Then what’s your problem?”
“The problem is the manuscripts that reveal the origins of those women.”
“Manuscripts? In the plural?”
“The one that gives it away most clearly is the original Aramaic manuscript of Josephus’s Jewish War.”
“But you’ve got that!” said Daniel. “And how come none of that material appeared in the Greek version. I mean the name Esseni appears, but nothing about their origins in Britannia.”
“Presumably, it was redacted,” said HaTzadik.
“By Josephus?”
“Hardly. If it was his
own translation, he wouldn’t have made the error of calling them the Esseni. The Greco-Roman translators probably had no vested interest in proclaiming the power of the vanquished tribes of Britain or for that matter the power of women – something that was even more anathema to their way of thinking than it is to ours.”
“So if you’ve got the manuscript, what’s the problem?”
Shalom Tikva’s face took on an ugly appearance.
“The problem – my brother Daniel – is the Domus Aurea and Temple Mount manuscripts.”
“You know about what’s in them?”
“We read about them when they were found. We obviously didn’t know their exact contents, but we had some idea based upon their obvious provenance as Hebrew text in an unrecognized language. And we knew that it would only be a matter of time before they were translated.”
“Then you know there’s nothing you can do to stop it. The truth is out there.”
“Yes it is. But there’s a limit to how much credibility can be placed on it. The real killer – if you’ll excuse the pun – was a ketuba between Lanosea and Bar Giora. But we’ve got that.”
“Your man Sam Morgan,” said Daniel, bitterly.
“That’s right. And now the last piece of the puzzle is that treasure. You see that’s the key to the whole thing. That treasure can prove a link between the manuscripts and Masada… and can effectively authenticate them. So now I must ask you to put the jewels back in the bag and hand it over.”
And just to make it clear how determined he was, he waved the grenade slightly, just enough to remind them that he had it and was ready to use it. Daniel began putting the jewellery back into the jute bag, slowly.
“Hurry up!” snarled HaTzadik angrily.
Ted knelt down to help Daniel. Then Daniel rose to a stooping posture and took a few steps towards HaTzadik, noticing as he drew closer that the pin was still embedded firmly in the grenade. Realizing that he had an opportunity, Daniel practically thrust the bag into HaTzadik’s free hand, knowing that this would momentarily deprive his adversary of the opportunity to pull the pin. In that same split-second he reached over and pressed on Shalom Tikva’s thumb, in an effort to force him to drop the hand grenade. But the manoeuvre failed as HaTzadik jerked his hand back, pulled the pin with the other hand that held the bag and then tossed the grenade behind Daniel.
Daniel spun round to see the grenade land somewhere on the ground. But in this darkened chamber it was hard to tell where. When HaTzadik pulled the bag out, light entered the chamber from outside. Ted shone his torch on the ground to add to the light and help them locate the grenade. But they both knew that with a four second fuse, the chances of survival were slim.
Then the light of Ted’s torch caught the grenade and in an instant, Daniel dived onto the ground, scooped it up, threw it out through the opening and hit the deck. Almost in time with his forearms hitting the ground, there was a massive explosion. In that same split-second, a pile of dirt and an avalanche of rubble rained down upon them.
Chapter 86
The cable car had arrived and Sarit was already walking briskly on the wooden walkway when she heard the explosion. At that point the brisk walk broke into a run. Within seconds she was through the archway at the entrance and onto the plateau.
She arrived to see people swarming around an area ahead of her and a little to the right. Some looking concerned, others crouching down. A couple of men in dark green uniforms – border guardsmen – were telling people to stand back. As she raced up to the scene, she heard a man who was crouching down saying “I’m a doctor.” The border guardsmen left him alone, but ushered the others back.
She arrived to see the self-styled doctor trying to revive a man in the black religious garb common amongst the ultra-orthodox. One of the border guardsman tried to interpose his arm and push her back. She pulled out her ID and flashed it at him. He backed off without another word.
The man on the ground was a small man and Sarit knew immediately who he was: Shalom Tikva. She felt like telling the doctor not to waste his efforts. But she had more important concerns right now. Where was Baruch Tikva? And where were Daniel and Ted? She turned to the border guardsmen.
“What happened?”
“There was an explosion. That’s all we know.”
The other guardsman had a theory.
“Probably a grenade.”
Sarit needed to know more.
“Concussion or fragmentation?”
The border guardsman shook his head. He was whistling in the dark.
The doctor leaned back from Shalom Tikva, also shaking his head. He answered Sarit’s question.
“Concussion.”
Sarit realized that he was probably a military doctor, or at least had experience of treating military casualties. But if it was a concussion grenade, who had thrown it? Neither Daniel nor Ted were likely to have had such an item in their possession, still less to have used one.
Then she surveyed the immediate environment and had a thought.
“What’s that?”
She was pointing to the large ditch. A member of staff looked where she was pointing and then at Sarit.
“It’s the sewage cistern. We’ve been doing some maintenance work on it.”
“Is there supposed to be an opening there?”
“Of course. It was accessible, but entry was prohibited.”
In that instant, Sarit realized exactly what had happened. The only thing she didn’t know was if they were still alive. Without explaining her actions, she leapt into the ditch and started clawing away at the rubble, tossing it aside in handfuls and attacking it with the ferocity of a mother trying to save her baby.
Some one made the mistake of trying to stop her. She back-elbowed them.
“There are people trapped in there!”
Some one asked “how do you know?”
“Just trust me, I do!”
Seeing the determination in her eyes, first the border guardsman and then some of the members of the public, clambered into the ditch and started digging away at the earth and rubble, bare-handed.
Chapter 87
“Daniel… Daniel are you okay?”
Somewhere in the haze of his semi-consciousness, Daniel recognized Ted’s voice. It was that same eerie feeling of the calm after the storm that he had after the explosion in the café that had nearly killed Leah Yakarin… the same feeling of pain, discomfort and not quite being there that he had when he woke up in that hospital room after the fire in the house in Ashwell.
Only, this time, when he opened his eyes, it was dark.
“I can’t see!” he yelped, in a state of panic.
“I lost the flashlight.”
Ted’s tone was reassuring.
So I’m not blind at least.
It was still a hope. Until he saw light he couldn’t be sure. He sat up and felt room to manoeuvre around him. They weren’t buried alive. But in the absence of light, and assuming Ted was telling the truth, they were trapped. He had to be sure. He had to know if there was anyone out there to help them.
“Hallo!”
Ted joined him in calling out.
There was an echo as their voice travelled down the cistern into the open. That was reassuring. They could probably get out if they went down rather than up. But it was a long way and they couldn’t see. There might be a sheer drop along the way, or at least a steep one. And without light they would have no way of knowing.
Of course if there was an opening at the bottom, there ought to be light. But if it was around several bends, then it might be very feint. As Daniel’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he began to see. There was a small amount of light. He remembered reading somewhere that normally ones eyes are adjusted to the dim light when one first wakes up. That’s why people who have just been awoken cannot stand bright light. But maybe that only applied to a long period of sleep.
Determined not to stay here and wait for the cavalry, he started tearing at the rubble and thr
owing it behind him.
“We need to get out of here!”
Ted joined him, throwing all of his effort into the endeavour.
Suddenly, at a point above where they were clawing and digging, a speck of light appeared. Some one was outside… some one was trying to help them. Daniel called out
“Hallo!”
“Daniel? Daniel is that you?”
He recognized the voice… a woman’s voice.
“Sarit?”
“Yes it’s me. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Is Ted with you?”
“Yes, he’s okay too.”
The hand-digging became more intense now that it had borne fruit. The fact that they were alive and easily accessible meant that it was worth making that little bit of extra effort to get them out. In little more than five minutes they were free, shaken and dazed but still in good nick, as Ted described it.
“Where’s HaTzadik?” asked Daniel, as Sarit crushed the life out of him with a bear hug.
She disengaged and pointed just outside of the ditch. Daniel saw the fallen man, but no treasure bag.
“Dead.”
Sarit already knew the answer. But she looked over to the doctor, for confirmation. He nodded. But Daniel had to know more.
“What about his son?”
“Was he here?”
“I didn’t see him. But I’m sure he was here.”
He was about to explain about the treasure bag, when a woman’s voice wailed out from a distance.
“Please! Some one help us!”
They looked around to see a couple near the entrance archway looking frantic and desperately trying to get the attention of thee crowd that had gathered round the ditch. It was the woman who had called out. The man seemed to be trying to look in two directions at once – at the crowd and at the entrance.
“What is it?”
“He had a gun! He grabbed our son!”
The border guardsman started racing towards the couple.
“Was it an Arab?”
“No, a doss.”
Doss was a word for ultra-orthodox Ashkenazi Jews. It had acquired mildly derogatory connotations, but like so many other pejorative epithets, the intention depended on the tone.
