He studied the chasm, its diameter about two meters. Clusters of black rock guarded the entrance. He’d noticed a moment ago, and now again—air rushed in and out from the tunnel, like breaths, in a rhythm.
“Columbus was stranded on Jamaica for a year,” Frank said. “During that time there was a lot of contact among him, his men, and the Tainos. Once he was able to leave the island, he returned a few months later and bargained for six natives to help him with an expedition. They brought three crates into the jungle. Some say they were full of gold, but no one knows. Columbus left and the bodies of the six Tainos were found in the forest, all stabbed to death. The first to die for this place.”
He said nothing.
“The Tainos returned and found the entrance behind the waterfall sealed by rock. The doings of the Spanish. The Spanish knew nothing of the second entrance we just used. So the Tainos were able to come back inside.”
“What did they find?”
“I’ll show you.”
———
ZACHARIAH FOLLOWED THE AMBASSADOR UP THE LADDER, BACK to ground level. He was invigorated discussing the possibilities. They’d both expressed regret that the precious relics might be harmed, but he’d made clear that their sacrifice was the price to be paid. Another menorah, more silver trumpets, and a second divine table could be made according to God’s dictates. But the state of Israel—that was singular, a precious commodity, which could not be replaced.
They stepped back outside into the cool morning.
“Walk with me,” she said. “I’d like to pay homage to the rabbi.”
He knew to whom she referred.
They followed a graveled path through the markers to the far side, directly adjacent to the western wall. Still, no one else had, as yet, entered the cemetery. Traffic could be heard, but not seen. She stopped before one of the larger tombs, framed by Renaissance cartouches sunk deep into the ground. The side facing them was decorated with a motif of grapes and a lion. He knew who rested beneath the elaborate marker.
Rabbi Loew.
Chief rabbi of Prague in the late 16th century. Rector of the Talmudic school, teacher, author. An original thinker.
Like him.
“The most visited tomb in this cemetery,” she said. “He was a great man.”
He noticed the stones lined across the top and on every other available edge. Jews rarely brought flowers to graves, as stones were the traditional way of expressing respect. A custom that dated back to their nomadic ways in the desert when rock covered the dead to keep the animals at bay. These stones, though, were special. Many had scraps of paper beneath them, some affixed by rubber bands. Each contained a prayer or a wish left for the rabbi to act upon. He’d left one himself a few years ago.
His hope that one day he’d find the Temple treasure.
Which might soon come to be.
———
TOM ADMIRED THE CEREMONIAL HALL. FROM THE ARTICLE HE’D written years ago, he was familiar with the Prague Burial Society. Membership was restricted to senior married men of unimpeachable repute who could provide for the sick and the dead. He’d toured the building then. The first floor had once been used for purification, the basement a mortuary, the second floor a meeting room. The walls were decorated with intricate murals, the floors a rich mosaic tile. This had been an important place. Now it was a museum.
He, Alle, and Berlinger stood among wood and glass cases that displayed funerary objects. Various paintings depicted the society’s history and activities. A six-candled, polished brass chandelier burned bright.
“These objects were once used by the society,” Berlinger said.
“They’re not important,” Alle said. “Why are we here?”
“Young lady, you may talk to your father in such a disrespectful manner. But not to me.”
She seemed unfazed by the rebuke. “You’re playing games with us.”
“And you’re not?”
“You
“I have to be sure.”
“Of what?” she asked.
But Berlinger did not answer. Instead he reached for Tom’s arm, leading him toward a set of display cases that fronted an outer wall. Three tall, arched windows with a Star of David design towered above the cases.
“You might find these interesting,” Berlinger said to him.
They approached the displays, and Tom’s eyes began to search inside.
“Out the windows. Look,” the rabbi whispered.
Then the old man released his grip and turned back toward Alle.
“Come, my dear,” Berlinger said. “I want to show you something in the next room.”
Tom watched as they disappeared through an archway.
He turned to the window but discovered the glass in each was opaque. Only through small, transparent pockets
