The Moses Legacy

Chapter 87

‘Do not give him any sign that you are under duress,’ said Goliath. ‘I can shoot her before they shoot me and I am not afraid to die.’

Daniel wondered if their abductor was really quite as mad as he sought to portray himself. Did he really have no instinct for self-preservation? There were such people in the world, but was he one of them? But remembering how Goliath had acted at the National Library in Jerusalem, he realized that the man’s words were true. He had shown just how ruthless he was when he murdered the Samaritan priest.

So when they showed their passports to the Israeli border officials at the King Hussein Bridge, Daniel neither said nor did anything to alert them to his predicament. He would bide his time and hope for an opportunity. That time was not now.

He wondered idly if the border officials might pick up on the fact that Daniel was sitting alone at the front, while Gabrielle was at the back with the big man. The one thing that worried Daniel was the possibility of one of them being asked to step out of the car. However, the fact that they were from the West and the fact that they were leaving meant that they were not seen as a threat. Their faces were checked against their passports and the passports then stamped to show their exit. Then they were on their way to the Jordanian side, where the process took about the same time. They gave the purpose of their visit as ‘to see Petra’.

Then they were through and on the open road.

‘Well, that was painless, wasn’t it?’ said Goliath sarcastically.

Daniel forced himself to put his thoughts on hold as he drove. But every so often he glanced in the rear-view mirror to assure himself that Gabrielle was all right.

‘When we get there, we’ll buy one-day tickets,’ said their kidnapper.

The drive to Petra along the desert road took about three hours and Daniel’s mind was reeling, desperately trying to think of an opportunity to disarm their abductor and get away. Sitting in the front as he drove along this naked stretch of road with very little traffic, there was not much he could do.

When they arrived at the visitor centre, local Bedouin – mostly children – swarmed around their car, offering them local souvenirs. A snarl from Goliath chased most of them off and the remainder drifted away when they saw that these tourists were not interested.

They went into the centre and Daniel bought one-day tickets for all three of them, as Goliath had instructed him. He wondered if the tension in his face had caught the attention of any of the staff, but there was no sign in their eyes that it had.

‘We wanted to ask you about guides,’ said Goliath, keeping the gun concealed in his pocket.

‘We have guides who offer tours in English as well as many other languages-’ The woman behind the counter broke off in response to Goliath’s raised palm.

‘I have a rather unusual request. What we’d really like is someone who truly knows about the ancient history of Petra, including the period before the Nabateans.’

‘Ah… okay. The man you want is Talal Ibrahim. He’s a member of the Bedul community – a sheikh in fact.’

‘Bedul?’ Goliath echoed.

‘A local Bedouin tribe.’

‘Are they the ones who claimed to be descended from the ancient Israelites?’

The woman at the counter looked surprised. ‘Oh, yes. They did claim that at one time. In fact the second President of Israel – Isaac ben-Zvi – even went as far as to claim that the Bedul had retained aspects of Israelite culture and language.’

Daniel smiled, remembering what Aryeh Tsedaka had told him about the Samaritan community in Holon.

‘But that view isn’t supported by serious historians,’ the woman continued. ‘There certainly isn’t any written record to suggest it.’

‘So they came… when?’ asked Goliath. ‘The time of the Muslim conquest? The seventh century AD?’

‘Oh no, they pre-date the Islamic era, but probably not by all that much. Of course, their ancestors converted to Islam many centuries ago.’

‘So when did they arrive in this area?’

‘Well, their main claim is that they’re descended from the Nabateans who built Petra.’

‘Is there any possibility that we could persuade this Talal Ibrahim to give us a tour?’ asked Goliath. ‘We’re only here for one day and-’

‘Wait a minute – are you asking about Sheikh Ibrahim?’ asked another woman behind the counter.

‘Yes.’

‘He is here today. He actually had a group booked for a tour, but their coach broke down and they had to 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.’