Zedekiah was engulfed in a red flame and then sank into endless darkness. As consciousness abandoned him, he remembered the words of the prophet. He realized that from then on, he would walk in a place infinitely more horrifying than death and that never again, as long as he lived, would he be able to feel tears running down his cheeks.
King Nebuchadnezzar – his will having been carried out – had Zedekiah put in chains and began the journey to Babylon.
THE PROPHET reached Riblah the next night. He travelled little-known paths to succeed in crossing enemy lines. As he journeyed through the night, he saw the maimed corpses of the soldiers of Israel impaled on sharp poles. Ethan’s body was hanging from a cross, covered by a flock of crows and surrounded by starving dogs that had bared his bones up to his knees.
The prophet’s soul was already filled to the brim with this horror when he reached Riblah, but when he saw the mangled and unburied bodies of the young princes, and when he learned that the king had been forced to witness their suffering before his eyes were put out, he sank into the dust and gave himself over to despair. In that atrocious moment he could think only of the endless affliction that his people had always had to suffer for having been chosen by God. He wondered how the Lord could have placed so intolerable a burden on the shoulders of Israel while other nations living in idolatry enjoyed infinite wealth, comfort and power. And these nations were the very instrument which God had chosen to punish the unfortunate descendants of Abraham.
And in that moment of profound discouragement the prophet was shaken by doubt. He thought that it would be better for his people to forget that they had ever existed, better to mix among the other peoples of the earth like a drop of water in the sea, to disappear rather than to suffer, generation after generation, the burning pain of the scourge of God.
He set off without having taken anything to eat or drink, his eyes filled with tears, his soul as dry as the desert stones.
NEBUZARADAN entered Jerusalem some days later with his troops and he settled into the royal palace with his officers, his eunuchs and his concubines. He had kept several of Zedekiah’s concubines found at Hebron or left behind in the palace for himself; others he had distributed among his men. The rest were sent to Babylon to be used as prostitutes in the Temple of Astarte. The queen mother, Hamutal, was treated with the honour her rank deserved and was housed near the Damascus Gate.
For more than a month, nothing happened: Nebuzaradan’s servants combed the city to hold a census of all the surviving inhabitants, taking special note of blacksmiths and farriers. The population began once again to hope, because the farmers were allowed to bring food into the city, which could be bought at high prices. No one, however, was allowed to leave, The gates were guarded day and night, and those few who had tried to escape by dropping ropes down the sides of the city walls were captured and crucified on the spot, so that they would serve as an example to the others.
The elders did not share in the people’s hope; they were certain the worst was yet to come. Inevitable punishment loomed frighteningly, unknown and menacing.
One night Baruch was wakened by a Temple servant. ‘Get up,’ the man told him. ‘The prophet wants you to meet him at the bean vendor’s house.’
Baruch understood the meaning of the message. His master had used it on other occasions when they needed to meet in isolated surroundings, protected from watchful eyes.
He dressed, put on his belt and walked through the dark, deserted city. He took a secret route, going through the houses of trusted friends or walking on the rooftops or along underground tunnels to avoid the patrols of Babylonian soldiers making their rounds.
He reached the assigned meeting place, a house falling into ruins that had belonged to a bean vendor at the time of King Jehoiakim and had then been abandoned because the man had no heirs.
The prophet emerged from the darkness. ‘May the Lord protect you, Baruch,’ he said. ‘Follow me. A long journey awaits us.’
‘But Rabbi,’ protested Baruch, ‘let me go home to get a knapsack and some provisions. I didn’t know we were leaving.’
The prophet said, ‘There’s no time, Baruch. We have to leave now. The ire of the King of Babylon is about to be unleashed on the city and on the Temple. Quickly, follow me.’
He swiftly crossed the street and started up a little road that led to the Temple. The immense building appeared in front of them as they turned into the square that flanked its western wall.
The prophet turned to make sure that Baruch was following, then set off down another little road which seemed to lead away from the square. He stopped at a doorstep and knocked. They heard scuttling within and then a man opened the door. The prophet greeted him and blessed him. The man took a lantern and led them down a hallway into the house.
At the end of the hallway were a number of stairs cut into the rock that led underground. At the bottom, their guide stopped. He scraped the ground with a shovel, uncovering an iron ring and a trapdoor. He inserted the shovel handle into the ring and pulled. The trapdoor lifted, revealing more stairs, even darker and narrower than the first. A puff of air arose from the opening, stirring the lantern’s flame.
‘Farewell, Rabbi,’ said the man. ‘May the Lord assist you.’
The prophet took the lamp from his hand and began to descend the stairs, but before long a distant cry was heard, and then another, and soon the underground passage rang with a chorus of shrieks, muffled by the thick walls of the ancient house.
Startled, Baruch turned around.
‘Do not look back,’ said the prophet. ‘The Lord our God has turned away from our people. He has withdrawn His gaze from Zion and has given us over to His enemies.’ His voice trembled and the lamplight transformed his features into a mask of suffering. ‘Follow me. There is no more time.’
Baruch followed him and the trapdoor slammed behind them.
‘How will that man find his way back?’ he asked. ‘We have his lantern.’
‘He’ll find the way,’ answered the prophet. ‘He’s blind.’
The passageway was so narrow that sometimes they had to turn sideways, and so low that they often had to bend and stoop. Baruch felt suffocated as if he had been closed up alive in a tomb, and his heart beat wildly in his chest. The sense of oppression was intolerable, but he followed the even step of the prophet, who seemed to know every foot of that secret passage in the bowels of the earth.
Finally, the dimness began to ease and they soon found themselves in an underground chamber. Light flickered through an iron grille in the ceiling.
‘We’re inside the old cistern under the portico in the inner courtyard,’ he said. ‘Come now, we’re almost there.’
He walked to the end of the large room and opened a small door that led to a passageway as dark and narrow as the first. Baruch tried to understand in what direction they were heading, and he suddenly realized that his master was leading him towards the heart of the Temple itself, sacred and forbidden, the resting place of the God of the Multitudes! They went up a rough staircase, at the top of which the prophet pushed aside a slab of stone then turned to him.
‘Follow me now,’ he said, ‘and do what I tell you.’
Baruch looked around and his heart swelled with astonishment and awe. He was inside the Sanctuary, behind the linen veil that covered the Glory of the Lord! Before him was the Ark of the Covenant and on it were two kneeling golden cherubs whose wings held up the invisible throne of the Most High.
The cries of anguish from the city were much clearer and closer now, magnified by the echoes filling the deserted porticoes of those immense courtyards.
‘Take all of the sacred vessels,’ instructed the prophet. ‘They must not be profaned. Put them into the basket you’ll find in that cupboard. I’ll do the same.’
They gathered up the vessels and, crossing the small space of the Sanctuary, brought them to another room, where the High Priest customarily lodged.
‘Now we must return,’ said t
he prophet. ‘We will take the Ark with us.’
‘The Ark?’ exclaimed Baruch. ‘But we’ll never manage to carry it away!’
‘Nothing is impossible for the Lord,’ said the prophet. ‘Come now, help me. When we return we’ll find two pack animals waiting for us.’
They went back into the Sanctuary, put acacia wood poles into the rings of the Ark and lifted it, with considerable effort. By now the cries were filling the Temple’s outer courtyards, and they had become the inebriated shouts of foreigners drunk on wine and on blood. The prophet walked with difficulty, because his limbs no longer had the vigour of youth and the sacred relic of the Exodus was heavy with wood and gold.
Baruch was not surprised when he saw, in the room where they had left the sacred vessels, two donkeys with pack saddles tied to a ring which hung from the wall.
The prophet goaded them with a stick and they began to pull with such strength that the ring was nearly jerked out of the wall. The two men heard a click and part of the wall turned around on itself, uncovering another dark passage that led underground. The prophet untied the two animals, put one in front of the other and linked the two pack saddles with the poles that supported the Ark. He fastened the Ark to this makeshift base and arranged the sacred vessels in the bags hanging from the saddles.
‘You follow last,’ he said to Baruch. ‘Make sure we don’t lose anything and close the passages which I’ll have opened. We still have a long journey in the dark ahead of us, but at the end we will be safe. These animals will not betray us. They are used to walking underground.’
They started down the passage and began to descend a ramp dug into the rock and completely immersed in darkness. They proceeded very slowly and Baruch could hear his companion’s cane tapping as he explored the ground in front of him at every step.
The air was perfectly still and reeked with the penetrating stench of bat excrement.
Time passed and the ramp became almost completely horizontal; the passage must have reached the level of the valley under the city.
They walked in silence for nearly the whole night until, as dawn was breaking, they found a stone wall in front of them filtering the first light of the new day. Baruch moved the stones one by one so that the little procession could cross to the other side, where they found themselves in a small cave.
‘Where are we, Rabbi?’ he asked.
‘We’re safe now,’ answered the prophet. ‘We’ve passed the Babylonian siege lines. The road for Hebron and Beersheba is not far away. Wait here and do not move. Put the stones back in place so no one will realize we’ve passed this way. I’ll be back soon.’
He left and Baruch did as he had been ordered. When he finished he peered out of the cave’s opening, hidden from sight by broom and tamarisk bushes, and saw his companion, who waved for him to come out. At the side of the path was a cart full of straw. Baruch emerged and hid the Temple vessels and the Ark under the straw, then yoked the donkeys. They then got onto the cart, two simple farmers setting off for their fields, and continued their journey.
They took out-of-the-way paths and overgrown mule tracks, avoiding roads and villages until they reached the desert.
The prophet seemed to be following a route well known to him, with a precise itinerary. He would stop at times to observe the countryside, or step off the cart and climb up the side of a hill or a mountain ridge to get an overview, only to clamber back down and continue on his way. Baruch watched as he covered barren hilltops with his quick step, as he climbed heaps of black flint scorched by the sun, as he trod fearlessly through the domain of scorpions and serpents.
They spent six days and six nights practically without speaking, their hearts oppressed by the thought of the destiny of Jerusalem and her people, until they reached a gorge carved by a wide torrent. Two completely barren mountain ridges rose to their right and left. Deep greyish-white furrows in the hillsides were dotted with spare, spindly desert thorn bushes.
Baruch suddenly noticed, on the left, a cliff with a strange pyramid-like shape, a shape so perfect and so cleanly carved that it seemed a man-made object.
‘I’m afraid we’ll find neither water nor food ahead, Rabbi,’ he said. ‘Are we still far from our destination?’
‘No,’ answered the prophet. ‘We’ve nearly arrived.’ He pulled the donkeys’ reins.
‘Arrived . . . where?’ asked Baruch.
‘At the sacred mountain. Mount Sinai.’
Baruch widened his eyes. ‘Sinai . . . is here?’
‘Yes, but you won’t see it. Help me to load the Ark and the sacred vessels onto one of the donkeys. I’ll walk him by the halter. You stay here with the other donkey. Wait one day and one night for me. If I haven’t returned by then, you head back alone.’
‘But Rabbi, if you don’t return, the Ark will never be found again and our people will have lost it forever.’
The prophet lowered his head. The desert was immersed in the most complete silence. Not a single creature could be seen moving as far as the eye could see over the endless rocky plain. Only an eagle wheeled through the sky in wide circles, letting himself be carried by the wind.
‘And if this were so? The Lord will make it arise from the depths of the earth when the moment comes to guide our people towards their last destiny. But now my task is to bring it back to its place of origin. Do not dare to follow me, Baruch. Since the time of the Exodus, the true location of the sacred mountain has been revealed only to one man in every generation, and only one man in every four generations has been allowed to return there. The last before me was Elijah. I alone, the first since the time of the Exodus, will be given access to the most secret place of the whole earth, where I will hide the Ark.
‘If it is God’s will, you will see me return after one day and one night. If you don’t see me return, it means that my life is the price that the Lord our God has demanded for safeguarding the secret. Do not move from here, Baruch, for any reason, and do not attempt to follow me, because you are forbidden from treading this land. Help me, now.’
Baruch helped him to load up the donkey which seemed the stronger and covered the pack with his cloak.
‘But Rabbi, how will you manage on your own? You are weak. You’re no longer young enough to—’
‘The Lord will give me strength. Farewell, my good friend.’
The prophet set off through the desolate expanse of stones between the two mountain ridges and Baruch stood motionless under the burning sun to watch him. As the prophet walked away, Baruch understood why he had wanted to take just one donkey with him and leave the cart behind. The prophet chose the stones on which he placed his feet so that no trace of his passage would remain. Baruch was afraid. The foremost symbol of the existence of Israel was travelling towards an unknown destination and would perhaps vanish forever. He watched with dismay as his master became smaller and smaller, until he completely disappeared from sight.
THE PROPHET walked alone through the desolate wasteland. He trod the realm of poisonous snakes and scorpions and he felt the burning eye of God delving into his innermost being. He reached a point at which the valley opened up and was dominated by a mountain on the right that looked like a crouching sphinx and by another on the left that looked like a pyramid. Suddenly a furious wind struck him, nearly knocking him over, and he had to grip the donkey’s halter tightly to stop it from running off.
He struggled forward against the wind until fatigue and the pain tormenting his soul cast him into a kind of delirium. He felt the ground tremble beneath him as if shaken by an earthquake, then felt as if he were being enveloped in bursts of flame that were devouring him. He had known that this would happen, for it had once happened to Elijah.
As if in a dream, the prophet abruptly found himself at the mouth of a cave at the foot of a barren, sun-scorched mountain, and he began to climb to its peak. Midway up the mountain, he found a figure carved into the rock which represented a staff and a serpent. He turned to scan the valley and clearly found
what he was looking for at the bottom, a line of stones tracing out a rectangular shape. That etching and those stones made him sure that he found himself in the most humble and secret place in Israel: the site where God had first chosen his dwelling place among men.
He made his way back down to the entrance of the cave, took a flint blade and began to dig inside the cave until he found a slab which covered a ramp buried under a fine white powder. With immense effort, he unloaded first the Ark, which he deposited in a niche carved into the stone, and then the sacred vessels. He was about to turn back when he slipped and bumped against the wall which closed off the underground tunnel. He heard an echo, as if there were an opening on the other side. Afraid that someone might find another way into this hiding place, he lit a pitch torch and secured it into a crack in the wall so he could have a little light. He took the flint blade he had been digging with and hit the wall repeatedly. He could hear the echo growing stronger and stronger. Suddenly he heard a sharp click and then a loud crash. The wall caved in and he was dragged downwards as if in a landslide, and he thought, blinded by the dust and half buried in the rubble, that his final hour had come.
When he opened his eyes and the dust had settled, his expression contracted into a grimace of horror, because he saw what he would not have wanted to see for anything in the world. He bellowed out in desperation and his voice emerged from the mouth of the underground chamber like the roar of a wild beast caught in a trap, resounding off the naked, solitary peaks of the Mountain of God.
BARUCH AWOKE with a start, certain that he had heard a cry: the voice of his master, broken with tears. And he remained awake to pray.
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