The 13th Tablet

by Alex Mitchell

  ‘You can’t help it. And anyway, there is no reason why Oberon would stick around if the tablet isn’t here any more.’

  ‘And you do still have his money…’ They both burst out laughing.

  Jack felt as if he were looking at Mina for the first time. They were slowly warming up, drinking green tea in the brightly decorated internet café. Mina seemed full of life now and she had some of the sparkle back in her eyes. Jack could not deny it; she was stunningly beautiful, even with her wounded lip and bruised cheek. For a moment he wondered if, back in Iraq, he had ever believed she was a national threat, or if the real reason he’d followed her to Israel was simply because she was the hottest and most intriguing woman he’d met in a long time.

  ‘Jack, we’ve chosen the worst time of the year to come to Safed.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Well, for one thing it’s the Chanukah holiday and tomorrow evening is Shabbat. I hope all the guest houses won’t be booked up. Maybe we should leave Safed and return in a few days?’

  ‘No. Let’s manage with the time we have.’

  ‘OK. One more thing – I think you and I should pretend to be Jewish. I’m worried people might not answer my questions openly if they realise I’m half-Iraqi.’

  ‘I don’t think we’ll fool anyone, Mina.’

  ‘You’d be amazed how welcoming orthodox Jews are, especially during festivals. They’re always trying to bring their non-religious brethren into the fold. They call it doing a mitzvah, a good deed. Listen, just go with the flow, be yourself and don’t engage too much with anyone. I’ll do the talking. I’ll be Miriam and you… Josh, both from New York.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re not a spy? You’re devious. I’m in, Miriam.’

  They were silent for a time, then Jack said:

  ‘Mina? May I ask you a personal question?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Your father is Muslim and your mother’s Christian. Right?’

  ‘Not much of question, but yes.’

  ‘So how come you know so damn much about Jewish customs and culture?’

  Mina looked a little embarrassed. She took a deep breath and said:

  ‘You’ve obviously never lived in New York for a long period of time. There are so many Jewish communities there.’

  ‘So? One of my best friends lives near Chinatown in San Francisco, it doesn’t make him almost Chinese.’

  ‘OK. My ex-boyfriend is Jewish. His family in New York practically adopted me for a time. I became fascinated by Jewish culture.’

  ‘Right… sorry I brought it up.’

  Now Jack felt embarrassed.

  ‘It’s fine, really. I broke up with him a while ago.’

  She noticed Jack’s smile from the corner of her eye and continued, ‘besides, I’ve been researching the life and works of Benjamin of Tudela for years for my PhD, as well as other Jewish travellers of his time. So I’ve done some extensive background reading on many aspects of Judaism.’

  They moved to one of the computer terminals and looked up information on Safed. Mina thought she should start her investigations with the oldest synagogue; it was the one most likely to have information about Benjamin of Tudela. It seemed that the Abuhav shul, the Yiddish word often used for synagogue, was the oldest.

  After printing out a map of central Safed and a few other documents, they made their way to the Abuhav shul. They walked through charming meandering streets covered in snow, with colourful posters on the walls, old women opening window shutters, young Jews walking to shul. People were preparing for Chanukah everywhere around them. What Mina enjoyed most though, were her own muffled footsteps. It felt like she was walking in a dream, where no-one could hear her arriving nor leaving, except for the occasional crunch in the frosty snow. Looking up, she noticed many houses had domed roofs, the shape of which was emphasised by the weight of fallen snow. Having passed the main square, they arrived at an open courtyard. They walked through a narrow lane, framed on either side with tall walls and finally arrived at the entrance of the synagogue. They were surprised at the height of the building; it was at least four storeys tall. As they passed through the entrance, out of the silent courtyard and into the warmth of this place of learning, they felt blood rushing through their bodies again. It was like walking through a small orchard of stone trees, with beautiful cupolas and finely carved pillars dividing the internal spaces of the building. At the centre of the mosaic floor was a platform from which the Torah scroll was read. Mina’s trained eye immediately noticed the unusual elements of their surroundings; the ceilings were painted blue, to remind the visitors of the celestial vision; there were three holy arks instead of one. Mina picked up a crumpled leaflet at the entrance that gave a few explanations to visitors. One of the arks enshrined a sefer Torah, a Torah scroll that was over five hundred years old, brought back by Rabbi Isaac Abuhav from his native Portugal.

  A young Ethiopian Orthodox Jew came up to them and told them in his broken English that the women’s place of worship was elsewhere. Mina told him that they just wanted to visit the synagogue and possibly talk to the person in charge of the archives.

  ‘You wanting administrator?’

  ‘Yes,’ she answered.

  As he walked off, Jack turned to Mina.

  ‘I’ve never seen a black Jew.’

  ‘Huge numbers of Ethiopian and Russian Jews have emigrated to Israel in recent years. The law is such that all Jews can emigrate here, almost no questions asked. The Jewish diaspora is amazing. They’re come from everywhere, from China to South America.’

  ‘Wow. So they can just return from wherever they have lived for centuries?’

  ‘Yes, it’s called the Aliya, the Law of the Return.’

  ‘Too bad it doesn’t work for the Palestinians too…’

  ‘Jack, I’ve got more reasons than you to feel for the Palestinians, but I think you’re being naïve on that count. Anyway, I’ve come here for information and not to insult people so please back me up. Shhh. He’s coming back.’

  The young man had returned with a jolly looking man in his late forties, so corpulent he seemed to roll down the stairs.

  ‘Shalom. My name is Ezra and you are?’

  ‘Shalom. My name is Miriam and this is Josh. We’re from New York and we’re visiting Safed for Chanukah. Your synagogue is a real jewel.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He beamed with pleasure and kept looking at Jack, as if he expected him to speak. Mina realised that being a woman she was less likely to get answers than Jack, but it couldn’t be helped. She said to Ezra, ‘I’ve also come here to do some research for my PhD.’

  ‘How fascinating. What are you working on?’

  ‘Well, I’d be interested in any information, texts, documents of any sort you may have on or by Benjamin of Tudela. You see, I thought since your synagogue was the oldest in Safed, you may have old records that other synagogues don’t.’

  ‘Benjamin of Tudela? I don’t think so. But, there is someone in Safed who might be able to help you. Old Eli, Eli Ben Mordechai. I remember he was obsessed with Tudela for some time, but I can’t recall why.’

  ‘Is he in Safed?’

  ‘Yes, at the Ari shul, the old one where Ari prayed, the Sephardi one.’

  ‘Would it be possible to meet him?’ asked Mina.

  ‘Of course, I can arrange for you to meet him tomorrow morning. Would 10 o’clock suit you?’

  ‘Yes, that would be perfect.’ Mina said. They thanked him profusely and left the synagogue. They would have to rush if they wanted to book a room for the night. They retraced their steps through the Old Town to Bar-Yochai Street. Back in the van, they drove up Jerusalem Street, past the upper end of the citadel park and parked as close as they could to the guest house. They hurried down a narrow path of the Artists’ Colony and arrived at a wrought iron gate.

  They passed the vine-covered stone courtyard of the Bar-El guesthouse and into the hundred and fifty years-old restored hous
e, where they spoke to the owner, who confirmed that there had been a last-minute cancellation for a suite, which had a view of Mount Meron. It would cost $160 a night. Mina winced, so the lady said she could reduce the price if they stayed more than one night. Jack jumped in and said they were staying at least two nights and would take the suite.

  She reminded them that it was almost time to light the Chanukah candles. They could of course go to any of the many synagogues of the old town for the lighting, but they would be welcome to join the others here and take care of their luggage later on. Jack and Mina followed her into the darkened dining area. The atmosphere was heavy with mystery. Jack turned to Mina and asked her in a whisper what they were all waiting for.

  ‘For sunset. When the lights will be lit,’ she whispered.

  Mina picked up a kippa, a small, round skullcap, which she discreetly passed to Jack. He quickly placed it on his head like all the other men standing in the room. They mingled with the people surrounding the menorah, a brass candelabrum with eight branches. There were three candles waiting to be lit. A young man sang blessings as he held the shamash, the separate candle which would be used to light the other candles. Mina could not help thinking that while shamash meant ‘to serve’ in Hebrew, as the candle served the other candles by lighting them, it was also the name of the ancient Sun God in Sumeria. She marvelled at how all things were so interconnected in the Middle East.

  Everyone smiled as the young man sang the blessings in a beautiful baritone voice and when he was finished, they all joined in singing songs, accompanied by a group of klezmer musicians, Eastern European Jewish clarinet players who then performed variations on the traditional songs. Jack and Mina were moved by the atmosphere, and for a while, were able to forget the ordeal of the past few days and the reasons that had brought them to this enigmatic city.

  After the meal, Jack and Mina picked up their bags from the van and walked back to the guest house climbing the few steps up to their suite. It was a delightful room, with stone walls, tile floors with Moroccan motifs and the ubiquitous deep blue decorations. While Mina went to the bathroom and ran herself a bath, Jack retrieved his laptop and set up an internet connection. He started reading about the Ari synagogue. The more he read, the more he felt utterly out of his depth. He left one of the pages on the browser for Mina to read later then shrugged off his coat and snowy shoes and stretched out on the bed. He was exhausted.

  When Mina came back into the room she found Jack fast asleep. She gazed at her handsome travel companion and wondered how he would react if he woke up and found her naked by his side. Tempted as she was to find out, she knew there was work to be done. She picked up the stone tablet from her bag and worked on it for some time, taking a few notes. She noticed the open laptop on the desk and had a look at what Jack had been up to. She found the page open on the Ari Sephardi synagogue. It dated back to the 16th century and had been named after Rabbi Isaac Luria, also known as the ‘Ari’ or ‘the Lion’ in Hebrew. His name was actually an acronym for Adoneinu Rabbeinu Isaac, one of the greatest kabbalists of all times. He’d arrived in Safed in 1570 and died there in 1572. He was buried west of the city.

  The Ari had prayed in this synagogue and was said to have been visited by the Prophet Elijah in a small recess at the back of the building. According to tradition, the two of them discussed the mysteries of the Torah. Today, the tiny room is kept as a shrine, where people light candles during the day. The synagogue was destroyed in an earthquake in 1837, but was rebuilt twenty years later. Mina wondered how much of the Ari’s sacred room had remained intact over the years.

  Mina’s attention drifted as she marvelled at the centuries of mysteries surrounding this city. What amazing luck that this Eli they were going to meet was ‘obsessed’ with Tudela. He’d probably have documents to show them, maybe even a small archive. She closed the laptop, picked up a large woollen blanket, and covered Jack with it. She then walked to the other room and opened her suitcase. She pulled out some of the clothes Liat had bought her in Tel Aviv, caressed the fabric and sighed, thinking about her friend. At least she was alive. Mina hoped one day Liat would forgive her for what she had unwittingly put her through. She sat down on the bed as she felt tears welling in her eyes. Pulling herself together, she undressed and slipped under the covers, where she fell asleep almost instantly.

  Chapter 18

  December 10th, 2004

  Jack woke at dawn, still fully clothed. His first thought was for Mina and her safety, so he dashed to the other room and peered through the doorway to be met with a lovely morning sight. Mina’s jet-black hair was strewn about her face as she breathed slowly, deep in sleep. He stared at her for a while and then crossed to the windows and gazed out at Mount Meron. Reassured, he went back to his own room, found a spot in a pool of morning sun, sat down and started stretching.

  Mina woke up when she heard Jack taking a shower. She walked up to the bathroom, and took a guilty peep through the open door. Her heart was beating as fast as hell, as she savoured Jack’s toned body. She had already noticed how fit he was back in Mosul but now she noticed the many battle scars in his back. God only knew the things he had done in his life. She probably didn’t want to know. If he’d chosen to leave the army, why should she inquire?

  ‘Morning Jack… do you always leave the bathroom door open?’ He turned the shower off, and picked up a towel to wrap around his waist.

  ‘Yes. An old habit; you never know who’s about to come in while you are in a vulnerable position.’

  He raised an eyebrow at her. She blushed and wondered if he had known she was there all along.

  ‘Let’s have breakfast and then go to the Ari synagogue,’ he said.

  ‘OK. I’ll be ready in a second,’ she replied.

  Natasha had already arrived at the Merkazi Central Hotel. She approached the front desk and said that her name was Mina Osman and there was a package waiting for her. The receptionist looked deeply embarrassed and told her that a man had already picked it up. There was nothing here. Natasha was furious. She asked him to check again. He called his colleague at home, who confirmed that a man in his mid-thirties had picked up the package and cancelled Miss Osman’s stay. Natasha stormed out of the hotel and walked back to the car, where three men were patiently waiting for her. She picked up her phone.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Yes Natasha?’

  ‘I don’t know how to say this. Someone has already picked up the package. According to the concierge, it was collected yesterday afternoon. The man also cancelled her room reservation.’

  ‘Damn it! She tricked us. She’d planned for this person to pick up the tablet all along.’

  ‘Could she still be alive, Sir?’

  ‘She’s not that resourceful, Natasha. Then again, leave a few men there for a day or two. Give them the girl’s description and tell them to check out the place. Maybe they’ll find out more about that man who picked up the parcel.’

  ‘Should I stick around?’

  ‘No, take the first flight back. The trail’s cold.’

  Jack and Mina arrived early at the Ari shul and decided to have a look at the small recess where Ari was said to have met the prophet Elijah.

  ‘Mina, we need to be really careful,’ Jack reminded her. ‘Wheatley’s probably on his way to Safed as we speak. Hopefully he won’t go sightseeing after failing to find the tablet.’

  ‘Right. I might not have your training but I can be discreet, I assure you.’

  An old man walked into the synagogue and sized them up. He walked straight up to them.

  ‘Josh, Miriam? Are you the youngsters who wanted to meet me?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mina, surprised at the old man’s New York accent. ‘Are you from New York?’

  ‘Yes. A long time ago, mind you. Let’s sit down over there.’ They walked to a bench to the side. ‘So, how can I help you?’

  ‘We’ve been told by Ezra from the Abuhav shul that you are the person to speak to about Benjam
in of Tudela.’

  His eyes widened a little, and he seemed almost annoyed.

  ‘What else did he say?’

  ‘Nothing’ she lied.

  His face brightened slightly.

  ‘Well, what would you like to know?’

  ‘I am PhD student at Columbia and I am researching the travels of Benjamin of Tudela, especially with regard to his discovery of Nineveh, as my work focuses on the first European travellers to visit Mesopotamia.’

  The old man nodded without saying a word, as seems to be the habit of all sages when listening to young scholars.

  ‘I learned from unpublished travel notes by Tudela that he sent a letter to a certain Mordechai in Safed. Now, until then I really believed Tudela when he wrote in the Book of Travels that there were no Jews in Safed. Obviously, if he sent something here later, all the way from Spain, he was being untruthful. So I thought there might be a small but exciting mystery to uncover here.’

  ‘When is Tudela thought to have passed by Safed?’

  ‘1170 C.E.’

  ‘Hmm. Young lady, that would have been about the time the crusaders came here and built their citadel on the hill. It was their custom to expel the Jewish or Arab populations from their newly built fortress cities.’

  Mina smacked her forehead. ‘What an idiot! Of course, the crusaders. Why didn’t I think of that? I was so engrossed with Tudela’s personal voyage that I overlooked the context. So there is no mystery. Maybe there were just one or two Jewish families still living within the city at the time of the crusaders. Maybe he wasn’t the author of this passage. End of story.’

  The old man looked very troubled. ‘Not quite. There is more to this story than you imagine. But first, what are these travel notes you’re referring to? I’ve been researching Tudela for a long time and never heard of them.’

  ‘There’s a good reason for that. I found them by accident in the British Library while working on the compiled manuscript. These travel notes were never inserted into the canonical edition of Tudela’s Book of Travels.