The Parchment (21 page)

After hours of walking through endless corridors, however, Gerard noticed something peculiar. Regardless of which direction he took, he invariably found himself back at one particular passageway. Gerard saw that the floor of the passageway had been worn smooth from heavy use. In his mind, the condition of the passageway floor could be a clue of sorts. Once the Temple caught fire, the Jews would have had little time to bury the scroll. Most likely they would have hidden it quickly in an easily accessible place.

Gerard lit a torch and began to examine the stones along the walls of the passageway. After weeks of painstaking work, he discovered a stone marked with the faint outline of what appeared to be a
chai
, the Hebrew character for “eighteen.” At the abbey, Gerard had learned that in Hebrew
chai
also meant “life.” Because of its association with life, the Jewish people believed that the number eighteen had a mystical significance. Edouard had told Gerard to search for the scroll through the eyes of faith. When the Rabbi said the scroll was buried in the “stone of life,” could he have meant that the scroll was hidden in a stone marked with a
“chai”?
With his knife, Gerard pried the stone loose from its place in the passageway wall. As he was lowering it to the ground, the stone slipped out of his arms. It struck the ground with a crack and split apart, revealing a small wooden box sealed with red wax. Gerard's body tensed as
he broke the seal. Inside was the copper scroll that had been buried by Rabbi Yohannen more than a thousand years earlier.

The grand master was incredulous as Gerard handed him the copper scroll. “How did you find it?” he asked.

“Through the eyes of faith,” Gerard responded.

“What does it say?” There was excitement in de Molay's voice.

“It is written in Hebrew, Grand Master.” The sound of a Templar patrol returning from the Jaffa road could be heard in the distance.

De Molay handed the scroll back to Gerard. “Translate it for me!”

Gerard held the scroll near a candle. “‘Five leagues to the northeast from the Oasis of the Red Waters stand three hills. Near the top of the middle hill is a cave.’”

Gerard's eyes opened wide. “Of course! This is what the rabbi meant!”

“What are you saying?” The grand master looked puzzled.

“According to Evardus, Grand Master, the old rabbi said something about ‘vessels and parchments of the Jewish people.’ The scroll says the Jews concealed their Temple vessels and records in the cave to keep them from being desecrated by the Romans.”

“Incredible!”

Gerard looked at the scroll a second time. “The cave is five leagues northeast of the Oasis of the Red Waters. Where is this oasis?”

The grand master frowned. “I have never heard of it. There are no red waters in the Judean desert, Gerard.”

Several days later, Gerard passed the place where Simon of Cyrene helped carry Jesus' cross. He heard a muffled cry and saw a knight hitting a young girl with his open hand. Gerard ran over and pulled the girl away.

“Stop hitting her. She is only a child!”

“This Christ-killer tried to cheat me. Stay out of this, Templar.”

Emboldened by Gerard's presence, the girl blurted out, “You are wrong, sir. The ointment cost four copper coins, not three.”

“Liar! You said three.”

Knowing the fate of a stubborn Jew in a Christian world, the girl shrugged. “Take it then for three.”

“Not before I leave a few more welts on your body.”

Gerard drew his sword. “The child offers you the ointment at your price. Take it. It was a misunderstanding.”

“Since when does a Templar take the part of a Jew?”

Gerard pulled the girl behind him for protection.

Unsure of what to do, the knight glared angrily at Gerard. Finally, picking up the ointment, he threw the three coins in the street and stormed off.

“Thank you, sir. Most Christians would not have stopped to help a Jew. You have done so twice.”

“Twice?”

“You do not recognize me? I am the child from Ventoux. Come into my grandfather's shop. Fie will wish to thank you.”

Together, they walked down a dusty side street and arrived in front of a small shop. Gerard bent under an arched door and entered a small, dimly lit room. The air smelled of cloves and cinnamon. An old man sat on the dirt floor grinding leaves in a brass pestle. His face was covered with a thin white film like a mask. Gerard sensed immediately that God lived in this place.

“Abba, we have a guest. It is the crusader from Ventoux. He protected me from a Christian knight in the street.”

The old man looked up from his grinding. “My eyes are weak. Please come closer.”

Gerard sat on the ground next to the old man.

“Shema Israel!
You are the young knight from Ventoux.” Tears began to stream down the man's face. “The Scriptures say that one who protects a member of a family becomes himself a member of that family. You must accept a gift.”

Gerard shook his head. “I want nothing.”

The old man pleaded. “You would dishonor me if you did not accept something. Perhaps some incense.” The old man opened a jar and poured out a gray powder. “This incense is made from plants grown only in the Oasis of the Red Waters.”

Gerard's body tensed. “What do you mean — the Oasis of the Red Waters?”

The old man looked apologetic. “I am sorry. I should have said the Oasis of Khan Hathrur. In Biblical times, the priests and rabbis often referred to the place as the Oasis of the Red Waters.”

“Why did they call it that?” Gerard could hardly contain his excitement.

“Jews on their way to Jerusalem for the Sabbath would stop at the oasis to make an animal sacrifice to Yahweh. The ritual washing of the hands in the water of the oasis gave it its ancient name.”

His heart pounding, Gerard thanked the old Jew for the incense and ran back to his quarters. He found a map of Palestine; the Oasis of Khan Hathrur was clearly marked. He traced his finger north-eastward from the oasis. There was only one road. The cave had to be somewhere along the road to Jericho!

Jacques de Molay was stunned by what Gerard told him. “Go to the cave, Gerard, but keep your destination secret. Tomorrow I ride north to the port of Acre. Sultan Hassan has gathered an army in Damascus and moves west into Christian Palestine. I will add you to my entourage. You have gone to Acre twice before, so it will not arouse suspicion. After we have left Jerusalem, break off from my party and ride east to the oasis.”

The next morning before first light, Gerard joined the grand master's retinue and rode out from Jerusalem toward Acre. After half a league, Gerard turned to the northeast along the Jericho road. When he reached the Oasis of Khan Hathrur, dusk was settling over the desert. Gerard decided to spend the night there and search for the cave in the morning. Although the night would be cold, the trees of the oasis would provide shelter from the wind.

That night the desert sky was ablaze with stars. God had sprinkled them randomly across the sky like a farmer throws seeds across a field. As he gazed at the heavens, Gerard felt the immensity of the Judean wilderness that surrounded him. He understood why
prophets and hermits had sought out the stillness of this harsh and barren land. The more inhospitable the landscape, thought Gerard, the more frequent a revelation of the Divine. The clicking of the grasshoppers lulled Gerard to sleep. As he slept, Gerard de Mon-telambert imagined all who had slept at the oasis before him.

“Excuse me, Jean.” Barbo interrupted Calvaux's story as he searched for a book on his desk. “Wasn't it near the Oasis of Khan Hathrur that the Good Samaritan saved the Jew who had been robbed and beaten by thieves?”

Calvaux nodded. “Yes, it's ironic isn't it?”

“What do you mean ‘ironic’?” asked Barbo.

“The Jews hid their wealth from the gentiles close by the place where a gentile opened his purse for a Jew.”

Barbo reflected on what Calvaux said. “Today there is an even greater irony. Jews and Muslims kill one another on the very ground where Jesus preached peace.”

At dawn Gerard ate some dried figs that he had brought from the Templar refectory. After rereading the copper scroll, he continued riding toward Jericho. The chill of the early morning soon gave way to the daytime heat. Except for the occasional pilgrim returning from Jericho, the road was deathly still. After several hours of riding, the road curved sharply to the north and descended into a dry wadi. Squinting into the sun, Gerard saw several sheep grazing on clumps of grass in the dry riverbed. A young shepherd sat on a flat stone idly watching them.

Gerard called out to the boy. “Shepherd, the sun is hot. You must know where there is shade.”

The boy nodded. “There is a cave nearby but I am afraid to go there. People have heard children crying.”

Gerard persisted. “How far away is the cave?”

“Not far. It is in the three hills.”

“Three hills?” Gerard's heart skipped a beat. He reached into his pocket and took out two copper coins. “These coins are yours if you take me to this cave.”

The boy shook his head from side to side. “No. The place is dangerous even for a Templar.”

Gerard took another coin from his pocket. “Now there are three coins in my hand. Take them — they will pay for a new cloak.”

The boy grabbed the coins from Gerard's hand.

Gerard smiled. “Now take me to the cave.”

The shepherd climbed onto the back of Gerard's horse. “The three hills are just beyond this riverbed. The cave is in the center hill.”

After a short walk, Gerard followed the shepherd up a steep path that wound its way to the top of the bluff. The boy stopped at a large stone outcropping about three-quarters of the way up the path. “The cave is behind here, “said the shepherd. He led Gerard down a narrow defile that snaked its way behind the outcropping.

“There it is.” The boy pointed to a dark opening in the hillside.

Gerard could not mask his excitement. Shouting aloud, he tousled the shepherd's hair and pushed some extra coins into his pocket. The boy scrambled back up the defile, frightened that Gerard's shouts would awaken the spirits in the cave.

Gerard peered into the opening. Although sunlight slanted into the entrance, he could only see a few paces in front of him. To keep himself from tripping, Gerard put his hand against one of the walls of the cave. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he took a few cautious steps forward. As he walked farther into the cave, he saw what looked like a rock pile a few cubits in front of him. A lump grew in Gerard's throat. He furiously threw stones off the pile. Under the stones lay a large wooden plank. When he lifted up the plank, there was a dark pit— too dark to see what was in it. Gerard was tempted to put his hand into the hole but quickly thought better of it. What if a snake or desert scorpion had made its home there! He needed to find a torch.

Gerard ran down the hill to where he had tethered his horse. He tore a piece of cloth from an old blanket and wrapped the cloth around a dried branch he found nearby. Taking a flint and some tinder from his saddlebag, he ran back up the hill. Striking the flint, Gerard lit his makeshift torch and reentered the cave. With a deep breath, he thrust the torch into the hole. Gerard gasped in disbelief. Priceless menorahs and golden candlesticks from the Temple of Herod flashed in the torchlight. Behind them stacked neatly in rows were parchment scrolls — each tied with a leather band. Gerard lifted several of them out of the pit. He carefully untied them afraid that they might crumble in his hand. Gerard could see that the scrolls were written in Hebrew and contained lists of births, deaths, and marriages. They must be census records, Gerard surmised.

By now, it had grown hot in the cave. Gerard decided not to risk taking any of the gold artifacts back to Jerusalem without an escort. But he would take one of the scrolls. The most recent one was dated in the Hebrew year 3791. Gerard did a quick calculation— the year 3791 in the Jewish calendar would be roughly 30
A.D
. in the Julian calendar. He would take this one to show the grand master. As he started to re-tie the leather thong around the scroll, a scorpion ran out from the pit. Gerard jumped back to avoid being stung and in the process dropped the scroll. He was relieved to see that the fall had not damaged the parchment. Picking it up again, he glanced inadvertently at some lines of text near the bottom of the scroll. The muscles in Gerard's face grew taut. The dim light in the cave must be playing tricks with his eyes, he thought. He took the parchment out into the sunlight. No, his eyes had not deceived him. He knew now that he must bring this scroll to the grand master at once. After replacing the planks and stones over the artifacts and remaining scrolls, Gerard quickly left the cave. With the parchment in his saddlebag, he rode into the desert.

For Gerard, it would be a long and troubled ride back to Jerusalem.

W
HEN
G
ERARD REACHED
Jerusalem, he was shocked at what he found. The city he had left only a week before had been calm; the city to which he now returned was in chaos. Sultan Hassan had done the unexpected. Instead of attacking Acre, he had turned his army south and moved to within a day's march of Jerusalem. The Templars and the other crusader garrisons were strengthening Jerusalem's walls in anticipation of a long siege. Gerard learned, to his dismay, that de Molay had not returned to the city. When Hassan's cavalry had cut the road between Jerusalem and Acre, de Molay had set sail for Cyprus in the hope of gathering a force of crusaders to help lift the impending siege.

Gerard knew what he must do. The parchment had to be taken out of Jerusalem immediately and brought safely to Cyprus. Ships would still be available in Jaffa, but not for much longer. Riding to the seacoast, however, would be dangerous. Although the Sultan's army was still a day's march away, Saracen horsemen would most likely be patrolling the road between Jerusalem and Jaffa.

Gerard made up his mind to leave Jerusalem the night after he had arrived back in the city. Earlier in the day, he had volunteered to take Templar horses to graze outside the city. When it was time to return, Gerard left his own horse tethered in a secluded spot near the Jaffa gate. No one would notice that one horse was missing— at least not until the muster for morning patrols.