by Katz, Yoram
It is still not clear whether it was the damage affected by the Mamluks to the foundations of the fort, or the trump card in the pack of de Clairvaux and the Templar knights, but the fort structure could not carry the weight of so many people. The main towers collapsed first, to be followed by the walls and then the rest of the fort, burying Christians and Saracens alike.
Acre’s invincible Templar fort imploded to rubble, most of it rolling into the sea and sinking there. Not a single soul, Christian or Saracen, survived.
Acre fell to the Sultan.
* * *
Three months later, the last crusaders were driven away from the Holy Land.
14. Jeanne de Charney - Haifa, January 24th, 2010 (Sunday)
Eitan raised his head. “An interesting letter and a truly fascinating story,” he said. “So what is your question?” The two were sitting in Eitan’s office. Luria had asked his partner to read Pascal de Charney’s translated letter and comment on its content.
“When I first read the letter, something just did not feel right,” explained Luria. “Since then, I have gone over it several times, and I think I now understand what is wrong with it. I wanted to hear your opinion.”
“I am not sure I know what you mean,” said Eitan. “I don’t know whether this letter is authentic or not, but nothing in it gave me a reason to believe it is not.”
“I never said it was not authentic.”
“So what are you saying?”
“Don’t you feel that something about this letter is just wrong… that some parts are at odds with others?”
”No, but you obviously do. What is it?”
“I believe this letter has been censored.”
Eitan looked puzzled. “Meaning what?”
“Meaning that parts of the letter have been omitted.”
“And what makes you say that?”
“Well, take, for example, this part,” Luria pointed at one of the last paragraphs in the letter. “De Charney writes about the Jewish community of Tiberias. ‘We found a big Jewish community, and they gave us a warm welcome. However, by now my work is done, and I will not need them.’ What do you make of this?”
Eitan took the document in his hand and looked at it again. “Interesting,” he responded after a while, “there is something odd here. ‘…my work is done’… he is referring to something which has not been mentioned in the preceding parts of the letter. What work? There is no mention of this before.”
“My point precisely! In the beginning of the letter, Pascal refers to a conversation he had with his father a year earlier, presumably just before he left France on his way to the Middle East. His father must have given him an assignment.”
“An assignment which, apparently, had something to do with the help of the Jewish community,” suggested Eitan.
“Exactly; and he explains that since the mission has already been accomplished, he is not going to require the help of the Jewish community of Tiberias…”
“Because he had already accomplished his mission with the help of the Jewish community of Safed…” Eitan completed the sentence. “Is this what you are implying?”
“Bingo,” smiled Luria.
“Very nice,” said Eitan, “but perhaps he just meant to say that in Tiberias they did not require any help from the local population because of the different strategic circumstances, as the Turks had already run away and presented no immediate threat?”
Luria shrugged. “I don’t think so. But I was just beginning. Now, take a look here.” He pointed at another paragraph in the letter. “He describes what happened when the Turks attacked Safed. The Frenchmen retreated to the fort, the civilians panicked, and de Charney writes: ‘…However, I was true to my word and made sure that my Rivka’s family, along with some other local inhabitants, retreated with us to the fort.’
“So?”
“Why did he host Rivka’s family?”
“Because he had promised to protect her.”
“It certainly looks like it,” agreed Luria, “but this is the first time he refers to such promise. He seems to assume that the reader already knows about it, perhaps because he has mentioned it earlier in the letter. He might have paid her with protection for something she had done for him.”
Eitan was not so sure. “This is a bit far-fetched. Here is a much simpler explanation. The man was in love. He wanted to score a few points with his new girlfriend, so he promised to protect her and made good on his promise. That’s all.”
“I doubt it,” said Luria, “but now note the beginning of the letter: ‘I will now tell you in brief of some of these events, and I will also dwell upon the specific subject that is close to your heart.’ This clinches it. It is obvious that de Charney is referring to something his father had asked him to do. He hints that he is going to discuss it later, but when you read through the letter, he doesn’t! There is nothing there! For me this is the final proof that this letter has been tampered with.”
Eitan thought about it for a while. “Well, if there had been an attempt to hide information, why were the parts that made you suspicious not dropped in the first place?”
“Ah,” Luria smiled. “You are looking for the perfect crime, but this is very rare. This is probably the result of haste or lack of attention to detail. Anyway, don’t forget that you, too, never noticed this on first reading.”
Eitan shrugged and remained silent.
“I deduce from this letter that Pascal de Charney had been tasked by his father to perform something and that he indeed accomplished it.”
“I guess this makes sense,” Eitan finally concurred.
“And it is also quite obvious that Jeanne knows what this is all about, and that she does not want me to know. I don’t buy the story about her interest in the romantic aspects of this affair. It might be partly that, but this is definitely not the whole story.”
“Well,” said Eitan, “knowing you, I trust you will soon get the true story out of her.”
“I just needed to discuss this with somebody. Thanks for your help, Eitan.”
Eitan laughed. “I would have felt better, if I could say that I had contributed something to the discussion.”
“But you did help,” insisted Luria. “You were a great sounding board. Now, what’s new on your side?”
“You mean Porat?”
“Yes.”
“I am still working on it," said Eitan. “His land lines at home as well as those in his office were easily fixed. The mobile was a different challenge, but I got it done. I already have a lead, but I need some time. Give me a few more days.”
* * *
Luria stopped in front of the entrance to the Dan Panorama hotel in Central Carmel. Jeanne recognized him and waved, looking stunning in her casual evening dress. He stepped out of the car to open the door for her. She hugged him affectionately and kissed him on both cheeks, the smell of her perfume making him dizzy. Then, she climbed into the car and in a minute they were on their way.
“How are you?” asked Luria, feeling terribly corny. “How was your weekend?”
“Oh, it was fascinating.” Jeanne was enthusiastic. “The tour you recommended was fantastic. We spent two days in Jerusalem and on Saturday, we drove down to the Dead Sea, visited Qumran and went up Masada. It was truly overwhelming. I have no other words to describe it.”
“Have you managed to get any rest at all?”
“I slept like a log until late afternoon,” she smiled. “When I woke up, I went for a short walk along the promenade just behind the hotel. The air smelled great, the view of the bay was spectacular, and I am now feeling as fresh as a sea breeze.”
“Yes,” agreed Luria. “The view from the promenade is really special. You can see Downtown Haifa, the German Colony Boulevard and Haifa’s celebrated Baha’i Temple with its gardens and golden dome. Were you also able to see Acre across the bay?”
“No,” Jeanne was surprised. “I did not think about it. I was just enjoying the view. Please show
me when we return.”
“I’ll show you right now.” Luria put his foot down on the accelerator. A few minutes later he stopped the car. “Let us take a look,” he said. “This is a nice observation point.”
The two got out of the car and took a short walk. Jeanne looked around her; they were standing on top of a cliff. Almost two hundred meters below, she could see the dark sea surrounding them on three sides. To the east, she saw the lights of Haifa and its satellite townships across the bay. To the northeast, on the far end of the bay, there were more lights. “This is magnificent.” She was impressed. “Where are we?”
“This is Stella Maris. This is the point where the Carmel mountain ridge is the closest to the sea.”
“Stella Maris?”
Luria pointed to the other side of the road. “‘Stella Maris’ is Latin for ‘Star of the Sea’. It is the name of the church and monastery over there.”
Luria now pointed towards the horizon. “There you can also see the other side of the Haifa bay, and beyond it, in the distance, you can see the Acre peninsula.”
“Where?”
“Over there, where the lights seem to invade the sea.”
“Yes, I see it.” Jeanne was excited. “So this is where Pascal de Charney fought and died… I will have to go there.”
“And you will,” Luria assured her. “Now we must see that you are properly fed.”
“Sure. I am quite hungry now,” smiled Jeanne. “Where are you taking me?”
“To Acre,” said Luria. “Where else?”
* * *
“This is such a beautiful place and the food is excellent,” said Jeanne. “Thanks for bringing me here.” They were sitting at a restaurant in Acre’s old Pisan port, overlooking the sea.
“The pleasure is entirely mine,” said Luria. “This restaurant is one of my favorites.”
Jeanne smiled at him. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself? It looks like we are going to spend some time together in the near future, so we might as well get to know each other. You told me at our first meeting that you were born in Safed.”
“Yes,” said Luria. “I grew up there and loved the place, but after joining the army, I left and never really returned. I still have relatives there.”
“Close family?”
“Well, both my parents have passed away, and I have a brother in the US, whom I hardly see. I have relatives who are ultra-orthodox Jews, with whom I have no connection, with the exception of one cousin, whom I still meet sometimes.”
Jeanne sensed that Luria’s close family was not going to be a hot topic for conversation, and took one step back. “You said your family had roots in Safed.”
“Right; the Lurias have been part of the history of Safed for centuries. My cousin, the one I have just mentioned, has been researching our family roots. He thinks we are related to Rabbi Yitzhak Luria, who lived in Safed around 1570.”
Jeanne laughed. “I believe you are trying to compete with my family tree. Who was this Rabbi Yitzhak Luria? What do you know about him?”
“He was, and still is, one of the most famous Kabbalists in history. He is better known as the ‘Holy Ari’, and the main current of Kabbalah still carries his name.”
“Kabbalah? I think I have heard about it.”
“It is an ancient tradition of Jewish mystical thought. Don’t ask me for details, as I really know nothing about it. As a rule, I try to keep away from any type of mysticism.”
“Really?” Jeanne put down her cutlery and looked into his eyes. “Why is that?”
Luria thought a moment. “Well, I guess I am more prone to rational thinking. Mysticism challenges the mere use of logic and does not lend itself to rational examination.”
“Are you saying that you cannot contain anything which exceeds the boundaries of logic?”
Luria did not miss the disdain in her voice. He produced an awkward laugh. “You make it sound like a serious flaw, but yes, I think you basically got it right.”
“But you must be aware of the crucial role mysticism can play in our lives!”
“Absolutely,” agreed Luria, “I see it all the time. It is definitely an important factor in human behavior. I like books and movies with mystical themes, yet it does not mean I really buy the stuff, much less let it affect my daily life.”
“The perfect analytic investigator.” Jeanne sounded cynical.
“Do you believe otherwise?”
She looked at him defiantly “I am a devout Catholic.”
“I see,” said Luria. “I myself am not a believer. Considering the fact that my family tree is rich in famous Rabbis and Kabbalists, and that most of my closest living relatives are ultra-orthodox, I guess you can say this is quite ironic. I am not much attached to the old trunk…”
Jeanne was looking for pain in Luria’s voice, but found only acceptance. Nevertheless, she felt a bit sad for him and hastened to change the subject. “I understand that you have served in the police before starting your own business.”
“Yes,” answered Luria tersely and Jeanne sensed from the edge in his voice that this, too, was not one of his favorite topics for conversation.
“What about your personal life?” she asked, changing direction again, navigating to a subject she was especially curious about. “Do you have your own family? Wife? Children?”
“No. I am not married.”
“A girlfriend?”
“Not at the moment,” Luria sounded tired. “The last relationship I had, ended a couple of years ago… Well, I meant to say the last meaningful relationship.”
“What was her name?”
“Ella.”
“What was she like?”
“Well…” she could see this was very hard for him. “Actually, she was very much like you. She was a student of history, too.”
Jeanne heard it in his voice. It could not be mistaken; the woman inside her was very attentive to such nuances. “And you still love her… what happened?”
Luria shot an angry look at her, and she immediately got hold of herself, understanding she had invaded his privacy, and astonished at her uncharacteristic lack of tact. She was rather frustrated. It felt like walking through a mine field. Every thread of conversation she was trying to bring up and maintain was hitting a dead end...
Jeanne was aware of her ability to use her charm to manipulate others, especially men, but this abrasive (and quite attractive, she had to admit to herself) Israeli was proving to be a tough customer. She felt embarrassed and for the first time that evening she could think of nothing to say. Luria sensed her embarrassment and hastened to rescue the conversation in the only way he knew.
“But I am not the really interesting person at this table. Why don’t you tell me about yourself now?” he said awkwardly.
Jeanne smiled, partly of relief, and partly because of Luria’s clumsy attempt at avoiding exposure. She promised herself to learn more about this enigmatic man, but understood this would have to wait for the right moment. “Like I have already told you, I am a history student and a member of the de Charney family, which has deep roots in Normandy. I live with my father and mother in Caen.” She paused for a moment. “This is Caen of Normandy, not Cannes on the French Riviera.”
Luria nodded.
"My father, who is the most generous and gentle man in the world, heads the ‘formation et de recherche de psychologie’ - the institute of psychological research at the University of Caen, and my mother is a lawyer. I have an elder brother, Gilbert, who is a gifted pianist and performs all over the world. My father has two brothers; the eldest, Claude, lives in the old de Charney estate outside Caen, where I had found the letters I showed you, and his son, Louis, is my best friend.” She fell silent for a moment and her eyes scanned Luria’s face. “I have already told you that Louis looks very much like you, but…”
Luria looked at her questioningly, and she laughed. “… But Louis is such a sweet child… and he does not have so many secrets…”
/> Luria blushed. “So you believe I have many secrets.”
Jeanne felt awkward. Her hand rose to her mouth. “Oh, I am sorry,” she gasped. “I am so terribly sorry. Usually I am much more sensitive and tactful. I have no idea what has gotten into me tonight. It must be the fact that you remind me so much of Louis, which made me forget myself. Will you please forgive me?”
“This is quite all right,” said Luria. “In Israel we actually prefer frankness, and I do understand why you have said that. I am not really that mysterious. It is just that I do not like to talk about myself.” He smiled. “Well, here I am, asking you to tell me about yourself, yet evasive whenever it comes to telling you anything personal. You are absolutely right.”
He raised his head and looked at her. Jeanne saw the vulnerability in his eyes and felt genuinely sorry for him. He was probably ten years her senior and apparently the epitome of manly toughness, but she sensed his loneliness and insecurity showing through, and found, to her surprise, that it made him even more appealing to her. She forced herself to smile. “It’s OK,” she said gently, putting her hand on his hand, which lay on the table like an injured bird. “Let us order some dessert. These cakes look so delicious.”
* * *
The car stopped by the entrance of the hotel. The two sat side by side. Jeanne did not show any sign that she was about to leave the car. A charged silence hung between them.
“Good night,” said Luria after a while. “Thank you for a great evening. I really enjoyed your company.”
Jeanne remained in her seat. She turned her face and bent over toward him. Wondering at her own feelings and conduct, she brought her lips closer to his, and they met half way. The feel of her lips and the scent of her hair intoxicated him.
An eternity later, when their lips parted, they just sat there silently, both wondering what was happening. In the semi-darkness, he saw her smile at him. He looked at her questioningly, and she nodded. Luria drove the car to the hotel parking and then, hand in hand, they walked into the lobby.
