The Phoenician Code

by Karim El Koussa

  “Thank you so much for the delicate service, Fiona,” Paul grinned back. “It appears to be a nice hotel, large but cozy. How many rooms have you here?”

  “One hundred, Sir, divided into two categories. We have the Standard single and double, and the Deluxe single and double, as well. Yours is a Deluxe Single Room on the 4th floor,” she stated calmly. “Any other luggage with you, Sir, so I can call the porter to help you?” She asked kindly.

  “No… no need for that, really. Thanks anyway. Just these two bags,” he explained pleasantly. “Oh, just remembered! Is there Internet access in the room?”

  “Definitely, Sir.”

  “Very well,” he answered delightedly, and as he took his first step away from the desk, he came to a halt, turned around, and looked at Fiona again.

  “These paintings are beautiful,” he said, and then asked, “Who is the artist?”

  “Ah, these,” she sounded confident, as if she knew very well what she was about to say, “These are not the original ones, but they are good copies of the originals, done by Konrad Witz, a German/Swiss painter of the 15th century.” She stood up to look at them better.

  “The one on the right, Christ on the Cross, is in permanent exhibition at the Staatliche Museen in Berlin, I mean, Berlin State Museum. It is a beautiful piece of art; don’t you think?” she smiled. Paul nodded, affirming her statement.

  “The composition is wonderful. The colors are stunning, and just look at the people underneath Jesus on the cross. I can see the sad expressions on their faces from here,” he added to her enthusiasm. Fiona nodded.

  “Are you a painter?” she asked. “Or, is it just fascination for art?”

  “Admiration, I might say. I’m a Historian.”

  “Paul Khoury!” she uttered underneath her breath. “A Middle-Easterner I suppose.” She gave him a warm smile.

  “True, and to be more precise, I’m Lebanese.”

  “Oh…” she intoned compassionately, “It must have been difficult for you to live in a war zone.”

  “Well… yeah,” Paul replied, in a hesitant sort of way. He sounded as if he didn’t wish to engage in such a conversation with Fiona. “War comes and goes… like a boomerang. We just want it to be over for good. Peace is the only solution,” he ended, in a sore voice.

  “Of course,” the blonde receptionist agreed. “Let’s hope for the best,” she said, adding these nice words to his wish, before turning her eyes to the paintings once again. “Now, the painting to the left, King Solomon & the Queen of Sheba, is also being displayed in Berlin. Never moved from there, I think.” She looked at Paul, who looked a bit confused.

  “I can tell from the look in your eyes that you hadn’t yet figured out the identity of the two personages in the painting,” she concluded.

  “Quite honestly, I hadn’t,” he replied, still looking at the painting. “And I just wonder what’s in the Queen’s hand. It seems like she’s offering something to Solomon. No?”

  “Yes, she is. A jug of some sort,” she replied, still looking at the old Royal figures. “You think it’s an interesting painting?” Fiona asked with curiosity.

  “I’m not quite sure. It’s just part of an ancient myth, don’t you think?”

  Fiona didn’t know what to say. No lucid answer came to her mind. She just sat back on her desk, watching Paul take off towards the elevator. “Oh, excuse me, Mr. Khoury, Sir…” she exclaimed, as she stood up again. He turned around. “Hope you enjoy your stay in our Hotel,” she said radiantly, with welcoming blue eyes. He smiled back.

  The elevator lifted him to the fourth floor, where his room would be. He steadily paced the long corridor with ivory walls and a dusky rose floor, tiny chandeliers hung from the ceiling, to illuminate the way during the night. A few seconds later, he reached the door to his room. ROOM 404. He stood there for a moment, before he opened the door.

  The room had one king-sized bed with two bedside tables, a phone on one of them, two small lamps—fixed to the wall—surrounded the bed, and a nice painting hung over it. Two chairs were set around a table, graced with a plate containing a variety of delicious fruits; another plate was set with a fork and knife on a napkin. A bottle of champagne was nested in a cold container, and a white flower fixed into a pot. The room had a brown mini bar, a closet, and a makeup mirror of the same color, a safe, a desk with its chair, a TV, and another painting on the wall. The whole décor was done in a Louis XVI style, giving Paul a warm feeling.

  He immediately put the luggage down, opened the white curtains and the French doors to the petite balcony. A small table with two chairs was already there. His hands on the banister; he looked down. One of Geneva’s most beautiful parks lingered down by the Lake. He then gazed a bit far beyond it, and the Majestic Alps emerged though vaguely. The Château de Chillon appeared to his left.

  Paul took a deep, long breath.

  .4.

  Château de Chillon

  Thursday, 2:57 PM

  “Good afternoon to all,” a courteous female voice echoed from behind the stand in one of the four halls of the Château. “By way of introduction, my name is Alexandra Von Gunten, and I am responsible for the cultural affairs taking place here at the Château.” She grinned at the intellectual congregation of more than seventy people present there. They all nodded with respect. The elegant timber clock, hanging from the wall, marked 3:00 PM.

  Ms. Von Gunten, probably in her early sixties, had short light-brown hair covering her round cheery face, framed by a nice pair of glasses that gave her the look of an intellectual. She wore a tumbleweed jacket and a red scarf around her neck, which made her look elegant, as well.

  “We are, in fact, gathered here to discuss a very important topic related to ancient history, and in particular: Biblical Archaeology.” She took a deep breath and gazed at everyone.

  “As you may already know, from the personal invitation cards you have received and the billboard posted at the entry of the Château, this Convention, or better said, this two-day Seminar is sponsored by the ‘Geneva Art and History Museum’ in collaboration with the ‘Catholic Church’. The decision was warily taken, to hold the Seminar at the Domus Clericorum, here, in this superb hall, for all of the Château’s historical significance. So, thank you all for coming.”

  A warm and loud round of applause echoed in the exquisite hall located at the heart of the Château. Delicately built in aged stone and roofed with wood, the Domus Clericorum gave the impression that the Château had been around for many centuries, maybe even more than a thousand years. Perhaps, it was this very fact that had inspired artists and writers like Victor Hugo, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Lord Byron, Delacroix, and others to mention the Château in their work.

  “Besides,” she then added, “as all of you may have seen, the location of the Château—in one of the most breathtaking settings in the world, between the shores of the Lake Geneva and the grandeur of the Alps—is, somehow, quite enchanting. And that, ladies and gentlemen, would certainly make one feel that they are in a sanctuary, at home—a place where one could share one’s thoughts and knowledge freely.” She paused for a second, and looked at the three guests sitting at the table, busy preparing their papers. “Isn’t that so, Professors, Doctor?” she grinned. They looked at her, and smiled back. They were ready.

  “Very well, today, our three eminent guests will talk about the Historical Methodology of the Study of the History of the Biblical Israel. It is a very stimulating subject indeed, and that, we all know with great certainty. Don’t we?” she lingered on that thought for a moment, and gave a quick look at the eager audience.

  “However, before they start reading their papers, for which twenty minutes will be allotted to each speaker, with a fifteen minute discussion period after each one of them in turn; let us cordially welcome our esteemed guests, authors of many controversial books. Initially, however, allow me to introduce them in order of appearance: Mr. Thomas Lampson, Professor of Theology and Head of the Biblical Studie
s Program at the University of Copenhagen.”

  Professor Lampson stood up, and waved to the standing audience ahead of him, clapping their hands, and indubitably waiting for what he was about to reveal in a few minutes.

  “Second in role,” Ms. Von Gunten resumed excitedly, “comes Ms. Kathie Whitlam, Professor of Religious Studies and Head of the Biblical Analysis Series at the University of Chicago.”

  Naturally, Professor Whitlam stood up to greet the ever-eager listeners, composed of more than seventy Academics, Scholars, and students from around the world, standing in front of her. She had a fine-looking face with short blond hair that reached just a little below her ears. Wearing a white blouse and a black tailored long skirt and jacket, she personified the academic image perfectly.

  “And finally, we will end today’s event with our last speaker, Mr. Jacob Inklestein, Professor of Archaeology at Tel-Aviv University,” Ms. Von Gunten revealed the identity of the third guest.

  In turn, Professor Inkelstein, probably in his late forties, clothed in a grey suit over a black shirt, stood up to salute the audience in feverish expectation. His grey-white beard suited his hair of the same color, and created a firm contrast with his tanned face.

  “One more thing before we start, allow me to give you a brief idea of tomorrow’s schedule. Three of our guests, now sitting on the front row, will also read their papers,” Ms. Von Gunten announced.

  “Authors of new theses, let us first acknowledge Ms. Aziza Ahmed, a Ph.D. graduate in Archaeology from Cairo University. She will talk about Akhenaton & Monotheism. Next up will be Mr. Aaron Ben Levi, a Ph.D. graduate in History from the University of Haifa. He will speak about the House of David and the Kingdom of Israel. Lastly, Mr. Paul Khoury, a Ph.D. graduate in Ancient History & Religion at the Lebanese University, who will converse with us on the Myth of the Temple of Solomon.” She came to a halt for a sip of water, took a deep breath, and then glimpsed at the audience in the hall. They appeared to be in a state of exhilaration.

  “Great topics, indeed,” she said. “And now, Professor Lampson, the stage is yours. Enlighten us.” She smiled to him and moved away.

  “Good afternoon to all of you,” a warm yet firm voice echoed in the Domus Clericorum. “Thank you, Alexandra, for your trust in me to enlighten you and the lovely audience gathered here,” he looked at her then at the listeners in wait, and smiled. “The truth is that I can only shed a little light on some facts that have been neglected by the Biblical Society for many different reasons…” he looked outside through the window, and then back inside the hall. “Well, I guess we all know the reasons! Don’t we?”

  Mr. Lampson—probably in his mid-sixties, short white hair with thin black streaks here and there, a nice anthracite-colored suit with a red tie over a light blue shirt—left that question lingering in the air for a few seconds, put his eyeglasses on, and resumed his speech.

  “With the advent of great sciences such as Anthropology and Archeology in the last one hundred years or so, I believe we are no longer living in the dark anymore. And… how can we be? We, seekers of light,” he came to a halt. An idea seemed to have crossed his mind. “Great sciences, indeed,” he smiled.

  “It is now evident to most of us, and I mean free minded Academics, that the preceding old claims that say the Bible, the Old Testament in particular, is a historical document, are pretty obsolete. Great uncertainties have been fairly uttered, and not only regarding the authenticity of the Patriarchs mentioned in the Book of Genesis, but also, very intelligently questioning the historicity of personages like Moses, Joshua, and the Judges too.” He took a sip of water to clear his throat.

  “However, there might be some sort of confidence in the scholarly mind, regarding stories related to later figures such as Saul, David, and Solomon…” he paused, looked at the audience seated in front of him, and continued, “… but that is fading away even as we speak.”

  As soon as Professor Lampson finished his last sentence, many indistinct murmurs had been heard across the hall. Yet, some people mumbled unpleasant words on the person of the great Professor, and that was quite audible in the room. This Professor is going truly senile. This man is anti-Semitic…

  “I’m hearing some mumbo-jumbo in here, but that’s ok. I understand the frustration that some of you feel, but as Academics, Scholars, and students you should always strive to prove your point of view in a civilized manner, the same way I am doing at this moment. You will certainly have your chance, and time to discuss it further when I finish. Right now, I’m making a point,” he announced resolutely, welcoming those who did not agree with him to an open debate after his talk.

  “We have researched almost all the ancient-world historians, beginning with, let’s say, both Sanchoniaton and Philo of Byblos writing on the wonderful land of Phoenicia, Manetho recounting incredible tales of the mysterious Egypt, Berossus on Assyria, Josephus on Judea, and Herodotus on Greece...”

  “In fact, almost all the accounts mentioned within the pages of the Old Testament are analogous to stories appearing in the writings of ancient civilizations, and mainly those describing the traditions and life of the Egyptians, Phoenicians, and Mesopotamians. The question that always lingers in my mind, and in the mind of others I have shared ideas with, is why has humanity believed the stories of the Old Testament to be the true words of God, and neglected the stories of others? This is certainly a very important question that I think every individual seeking the truth should ask.” He stayed with that idea for a minute. The look in the audience’s eyes showed great puzzlement indeed.

  “You may ask yourselves, what and where is the truth in the world’s historical accounts. This is a legitimate question, an Academic, a Scholar, and a student in history would ask.” Professor Lampson smiled. “If we take Josephus, for example, I assure you that he knew next to nothing about ancient history that we didn’t already know from other sources around the Mediterranean world. The trick is that he learned from other sources, transcribed it, and claimed it as his.” He looked at the audience. They were all extremely attentive. “The worst thing Josephus did is that he reworded everything to his own taste and the taste of the people he belonged to.” He took a deep breath. “I wouldn’t actually trust him for a beer at a bar.” He murmured all too low with a grin on his face, but the people in attendance chuckled at the words he had just uttered. He had thought they had not heard him. His features changed into an expression of surprise. He laughed quietly with them.

  Mr. Lampson continued reading from his paper with much veracity and authenticity. He revealed to the audience that he was not just an Academic, a Professor of Theology, and Head of the Biblical Studies Program at the University of Copenhagen, but a true historian with grand feelings for humanity, and a deep concern for the truth behind their beliefs—the truth lingering in the shadowed reality, awaiting the light.

  Paul plainly noticed these facts with undeniable feelings in his mind and in his heart, as he listened to the debate that ensued after Professor Lampson had ended his talk. The Professor contended with those who argued against him, in the decent manner and gentle tone of voice, which only a great man can master.

  After him, Ms. Alexandra Von Gunten, responsible for the cultural affairs at the Château de Chillon, gave the podium to the other two eminent speakers that followed, one after the other. Ms. Kathie Whitlam, a Professor of Religious Studies and Head of the Biblical Analysis Series at the University of Chicago, and Mr. Jacob Inklestein, Professor of Archaeology at the University of Tel-Aviv.

  It was fifteen minutes past 5 PM when the seminar reached its closure. The other two guests spoke of similar matters to Professor Lampson’s thesis. As a whole, the three challenging papers stood as an outstanding work of erudition, certainly bold enough to undermine the already given-for-granted suppositions concerning the history of the Old Testament.

  The theories presented at the Domus Clericorum truly embraced a freedom of speech, spirit, and vision, ardent enough to argue that
Ancient Biblical Israel has been modeled as such by authors of biblical scholarship, belonging to a later period in time than actual historical facts, taking place some thousands of years ago.

  Of course, a few people present inside that particular hall of the Château had been rather persistently annoyed at the revelations. A feeling of resentment had overwhelmed them, Paul noticed clearly, but not to the point of provoking a commotion of sorts. The intellectual and cultured impression that a place like the Château de Chillon imposed on people would certainly not allow for such a hassle to take place.

  Outside the Château, just by the side of the road, Sebastian was waiting inside his black Mercedes Benz for Mr. Khoury to appear in his rear-view mirror. He would drive him back to the hotel, as formerly agreed. When he did, a couple of minutes later, they took off at a leisurely pace, for Paul did not at all seem in a hurry to reach his destination. He, in fact, wanted to enjoy the early evening drive in a city he had come to visit for the first time.

  Sixty minutes later, perhaps a bit more, upon reaching the Eden Palace Hotel, Paul walked over to a comfortable brown couch with its coffee table, at a corner of the large outside-terrace, and sat down. Time for tea, he thought. The modish hallway stood well above him, and Geneva Lake just underneath him. “How beautiful,” he muttered under his breath.

  While typing the password for his email account on the screen of his grey laptop, he took a leisurely sip of his hot tea. The fragrance coming from the cup filled the air surrounding him. Looking at the lake, the diffused yellow lights, from the long black pillars, erected at the edge of the terrace, shone beautifully on the water surface. He smiled as he admired the peaceful scene around him. It was, indeed, a quiet place for Paul to enjoy.

  Back to the screen in front of his focused brown eyes, an email from Maya Deeb appeared in his inbox. He wondered for a moment about that. His features revealed a certain level of surprise. His first and only encounter with Maya and her friend Youmna had taken place just a week ago at the Padre’s office, certainly not long enough ago to be getting an email from her so soon, he thought. Yet, his curiosity increased as he clicked to open it.