cancel. I think he’s still here. I can page him.’
Half an hour later they were walking along the Bab as Siq – sometimes called the ‘outer siq ’ – a road bordered by slopes that ran by the side of Wadi Musa between the visitor centre and the entrance to the inner siq that most tourists took to get into Petra City.
‘The inner siq,’ Ibrahim explained, literally “the shaft”, is a long, narrow passage through the red rock leading into the actual city of Petra. It was created not by man, but by nature and it stretches for two kilometres, bending and twisting this way and that along the way. It is barely three metres wide, sometimes less than that.’
Two things had struck Daniel within a few minutes of each other: the advanced age of the sheikh – it was hard to tell exactly how old he was – and the magnificent mountains and steep hills that surrounded them.
‘I thought the rock was red,’ said Daniel in his naivety.
‘That’s further in,’ said Ibrahim. ‘Out here it is white.’
The valley began to narrow.
‘What’s that?’ asked Daniel, pointing to three square towers carved into the rock.
‘In Arabic we call them sahreej, which means cistern. However, the name is misleading because they have nothing to do with channelling or storing water. Most English speakers call them djinn blocks, using the Arabic word for an evil spirit, which I believe you sometimes call a genie.’
‘Were they carved by the Nabateans?’ Daniel asked.
‘So it is believed. This is a theory that they represent the Nabatean god Dushara. They are also believed to be tombs. And these are not the only ones. More than twenty of these djinn blocks have been found in Petra.’
A little further down, Sheikh Ibrahim stopped and pointed to a small entrance cut into the rock on the other side of the road from the djinn blocks.
‘That is the entrance to the Snake Tomb.’
It was so unobtrusive that they could have gone right past it without noticing it. He walked in, followed by the others, who formed a nervous huddle just behind him.
‘There are twelve graves here,’ the sheikh began.
‘Why is it called the Snake Tomb?’ asked Daniel, thinking about Moses and the fiery snakes.
Sheikh Ibrahim switched on a torch and aimed it at the floor. He moved the torch and directed its beam on to the wall where a carved relief image of a pair of snakes attacking a dog or jackal was illuminated. Above it and to the left was a relief of a horse mounted by some indeterminate figure.
‘Not many people know about this place. It isn’t considered important, but I presumed that as you wanted someone with deeper knowledge than usual, you might like to see this. A little tomb that most tourists don’t bother with.’
They went outside and drank some water to cool off.
‘There is something I wanted to ask you,’ Goliath said to the sheikh.
Daniel tensed up, wondering if Goliath was about to show his true colours and produce the gun. It would be risky; there were other people about. And no matter how ruthless Goliath was, it would do him no good to find himself surrounded by armed guards ready to shoot to kill before he had accomplished his goal. Moreover there was no reason to assume that Sheikh Ibrahim would yield to a threat.
In the event, Goliath kept his hand in his pocket.
‘You see that man?’ He nodded at Daniel.
‘Yes,’ said the sheikh, puzzled by the question.
‘He is the world’s foremost expert on ancient Semitic languages, and he has deciphered the ancient script. He is so wise and so trusted, that the Samaritans have given him their most precious manuscript. Let me show you.’
He produced the glass sheets containing The Book of the Straight from the bag he was carrying with him.
‘Well, go on, take a look,’ said Goliath encouragingly.
The Bedul sheikh looked at the glass-encased papyrus and his eyes welled up with tears.
‘They gave you this?’
‘Only temporarily,’ said Goliath. ‘We will give it back to them, of course. But they gave it to us to show it to you, so you would see that they trust us… in the hope that you will trust us too.’
‘T… trust you?’ Ibrahim could barely trust his own voice. ‘I assume you know what that is?’
‘I think so.’
‘It is The Book of the Straight written by Joshua the Hebrew prophet. You can tell this from the ancient script in which it is written.’ With trembling hands, he gave it back to Goliath. ‘If they let you have this in your hands – even for a minute – then they must trust you like a brother.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Goliath, putting it away. ‘And that man over there…’ he pointed to Daniel, ‘has translated that scroll. He can translate your scroll too.’
‘ My scroll?’
‘The scroll that is guarded by your people.’
‘What scroll?’
‘The sacred scroll that was entrusted to your people. The scroll that your ancestors have protected all these years. The scroll that was written by Moses himself. The Book of the Wars of the Lord.’
Daniel saw no fear in the sheikh’s eyes, just a hint of lingering suspicion. He wanted to warn him, but dared not.
He hoped that he would say that he didn’t know what the man was talking about, or alternatively claim that the ancient scroll was lost.
‘And if The Book of the Wars of the Lord still exists?’
‘Then…’ again Goliath pointed to Daniel, ‘that man can reveal the sacred truths that have remained hidden – even from your own ancestors – for over three thousand years.’
The sheikh leaned towards Goliath. Goliath had to move forward and crouch down to hear him. Ibrahim spoke, almost in a whisper.
‘It is not a scroll.’
‘Then what is it?’
The sheikh smiled, a bewitching smile, as if mocking the naivety of the big man. ‘Very few have set eyes upon it.’
‘And are you one of those few?’
‘Only once, when my father handed over to me the task of guarding it.’
‘Then let us see it,’ said Goliath, feigning the pleading voice of a man with good intentions. ‘And let my friend translate it.’
‘All right. I will show it to you.’
Chapter 88
‘I’m telling you – I didn’t do it!’ Sarit explained for the umpteenth time. ‘Look at his neck! You can see his throat’s been cut. Can you see any knife on me? Can you see any knife in the room?’
The two priests who had returned to find her standing there over the body, and the half dozen or so other people who had crowded into the room looked around. They could indeed see nothing resembling the type of weapon that had inflicted these wounds. But they had found her with blood on her clothes.
She knew that it was only a matter of time before the police got there, probably only a few minutes. But she saw the anger in the eyes of the younger priest, and she feared that she might have to resort to her krav maga fighting skills to defend herself. In fact, her fears were unfounded. He did not lift a finger against her.
‘Look,’ she said quietly, ‘there is something I need to know. Did either of you see a very tall man outside?’
They shook their heads.
‘I know that your high priest was here with two people to hear a translation of an ancient manuscript. Were you here when it happened?’
