‘Where do you see the United States in that?’
‘I don’t think the United States has the finesse in foreign policy to ever become an empire. If people like my brother Yusef have their way, many cities in America and those of her allies will be totally destroyed before the fanatical elements of Islam finally turn their attention to greater Europe.’
‘Yusef is intolerant of other religions?’
‘Our family was killed by the Israelis and we are the only ones left. A story I will tell you another time, but Yusef has sworn to take his revenge and he can’t understand why I won’t do the same. I understand his hatred but I can’t condone it because hatred breeds more hatred. On our side, Arafat has had many chances for peace but he is incapable of delivering.’
‘Have you ever thought of running for politics, Ahmed?’
‘Not while Arafat is around. He is totally corrupt and it would be a waste of effort even running, always assuming that we get to have elections, but if he ever moved on, I would think about it very seriously. Someone has to do something about this ever-increasing cycle of violence, Giovanni. There is a whole generation of kids who are being brought up to hate the West, something that the US politicians seem to ignore. Once this hatred starts to spiral out of control, the warning on the countdown to the destruction of humanity becomes very clear.’
CHAPTER TWENTY
Jerusalem
I n the days that followed, the parishioners of Mar’Oth banded together to help their new, unassuming priest settle in, and some of the Muslims joined their Christian brothers to help as well. Giovanni’s kindness to their Imam had not gone unnoticed and within a remarkably short time the little Christian church and Giovanni’s quarters were clean and functional. Patrick O’Hara kept his word too, and less than two weeks after Giovanni had settled into Mar’Oth, he was summoned back to Jerusalem to meet Yossi Kaufmann, his wife Marian and their son David. Giovanni arrived early and Patrick, ever sensitive to the people around him, briefed Giovanni on the Kaufmann family background.
‘Over the years the Kaufmanns have had more than their fair share of family tragedy. Yossi and Marian both lost their parents in the Holocaust and their eldest son, Michael, was killed in the 1967 Six Day War. David fought in that as a young platoon commander and took part in the assault and liberation of the Old City. In fact he was responsible for capturing the Rockefeller Museum from the Jordanians and with it the vaults that held the Dead Sea Scrolls. David hates telling the story but I’ll be prevailing upon him to tell you how he did it. It makes fascinating listening.’
After dinner, Patrick, Giovanni, Yossi, Marian and David settled into the big comfortable armchairs in Patrick’s rambling study.
‘ Basta, basta! Patrick. An excellent dinner as usual but domani! Tomorrow! I have to work tomorrow.’ Professor Kaufmann was used to his host and he protested as Patrick filled his glass. Yossi Kaufmann was tall and square-shouldered, his face fair-skinned and sculpted with laughter lines. His sense of humour was also reflected in his gentle blue eyes.
‘You speak Italian, Yossi?’ Giovanni asked.
‘ Soltanto un poco,’ he replied, putting his thumb and forefinger close together to indicate a little.
‘Yossi’s too modest,’ Marian protested. Marian Kaufmann was tall and elegant. Her long dark hair shone in the soft light, framing her unlined face and her soft but alert brown eyes. They were, Giovanni thought, a very striking couple. ‘As well as English and Hebrew, Yossi is quite fluent in Italian and he also has some quite passable Arabic and French.’
‘What about you, David?’ Giovanni asked.
‘I get by, I guess,’ David replied with a boyish grin. ‘My pursuits have been a little less glamorous than Italian and French. Not much call for ordering a beer in Koine or Aramaic!’ David’s playful demeanour made him look much younger than his thirty-nine years.
‘I’ve been trying to converse with the villagers of Mar’Oth in Arabic. All I can say is that they are very tolerant,’ Giovanni said. ‘You were a platoon commander in the Six Day War?’
‘A very good one,’ Yossi replied, always ready to give his son credit.
‘Have you ever wondered if the Omega Scroll was amongst those you liberated from the Rockefeller Museum, David?’ Patrick loved a good conspiracy.
‘The Professor and I,’ David replied, using his father’s title as a term of endearment, ‘have often wondered about that. It was pretty chaotic and we had enough trouble securing the building without counting and checking what was in the vault.’
The Professor’s face was inscrutable. Yossi Kaufmann had seen some recent Mossad reports indicating that the original and one copy of the Omega Scroll had indeed been in the vaults.
‘You should tell Giovanni the story, David,’ Patrick prompted.
‘Oh, I’m sure Giovanni doesn’t want to hear about the war,’ David replied reluctantly.
‘I’m sorry,’ Giovanni replied, mindful of the loss of David’s brother. ‘I don’t want to raise any painful memories.’
‘Don’t be sorry,’ Marian said gently. ‘We miss Michael but we’ve come to terms with his loss. It just makes us all the more determined for peace.’
‘But it can’t be peace at the expense of one side,’ Yossi warned. ‘There will never be peace until we reach a solution with the Palestinians that is equitable for both sides. The Palestinians must be given their own State. On the other hand, those who criticise the Jewish nation for warmongering have very little understanding of how reluctant we have been to fight, how divided the Cabinet was in 1967 and that the Palestinians are not the only ones to have suffered terrible losses. In the end we were given little choice. Even today there are still some who want to push us into the sea and if nothing else, the 1967 war serves as a reminder of how futile that approach is. Wars are not the answer,’ Yossi said sadly. ‘But when the Jewish nation is pushed into a corner we will fight with every means at our disposal.’
‘Yes, but David is such a reluctant hero,’ Marian added with a warm smile. ‘Perhaps I should start, Patrick?’
‘Let me refill your glass,’ Patrick replied, reaching for the red wine.
Acre
From the day Yossi and Marian had arrived in Acre as teenagers on a fishing trawler after their escape from Vienna in 1938, they had both been captivated by the old city with its Crusader walls, minarets, mosques, souks and the great Khans, where the merchants of Italy and Provence had plied their trade. By 1967 they had found a modest holiday house that was close to the ancient harbour. It was on a narrow, twisting street and one of a row of houses that dated back to the Turkish Ottoman Empire of the eighteenth century.
Marian Kaufmann had set the table simply. Two candles representing God’s commandments: zachor, to remember, and shamor, to observe the Sabbath; a glass of wine and two loaves of challah that would remain covered with a white cloth until after the blessings. Marian had long ago lost her own Jewish faith behind the forbidding bluestone walls and wire of the Nazi charnel house at Mauthausen, the concentration camp in Austria where both Yossi’s and her own parents had been brutally murdered. Despite this, Marian had a deep respect for Yossi’s beliefs and she was happy to observe the Jewish ritual. Yossi and Marian had agreed that both of their sons would receive instruction in the Torah, but the matter of faith had been left to the boys to decide for themselves. David, Marian knew, would never have time for religion. Michael, blond, tall and three years older than David, had the same strong faith as his father. Given the boys’ natures it could have been expected to be the other way round – Michael was brash and aggressive; David, mischievous but thoughtful.
Yossi removed the white cloth from the bread and holding one loaf in each hand, he blessed it: Barukh atah Adonai Elohaynu melekh ha-olam – Blessed are You, Lord, our God, King of the Universe. Ha-motzi lechem min ha- aretz. Amein – Who brings forth bread from the earth. Amen.
Like the Christians and the Muslims, it was a ‘thank you’ to the God of Abraham, the same God for all the faiths. The same God and the same hope for peace, yet once again the war clouds were gathering over the cities of the Jews, Christians and Arabs.
