Adrian D'Hage - The Omega scroll

‘Isn’t it, Allegra?’ Signora Farini demanded, invoking Allegra’s greater knowledge of all matters theological.

‘You may both be right,’ Allegra said diplomatically. She had been part of this evening ritual many times and had no wish to take sides.

It was after nine when she picked her way back across the rickety bridge by the feeble light of her pocket torch. Restless, Allegra tossed and turned during the night, worrying about Mother Alberta and why she had been summoned, while her mind rebelled against the strictures of the Church. Accettazione and testarda.

Despite her nervousness, Allegra knocked firmly on the open office door.

‘You wished to see me, Reverend Mother?’

‘Come in, my child, and sit down.’ Mother Alberta did not look up, but went on writing. She was a thin, severe-looking woman. Even when she was seated the knife-edges in her habit remained uncreased, and not a single grey hair protruded from underneath her perfectly pressed veil. The Reverend Mother’s tone was not unfriendly and Allegra sat a little less nervously on the wooden chair. While she waited in the sparsely furnished office Allegra gazed at the simple wooden crucifix on the whitewashed wall behind the older nun.

When she had finished writing Mother Alberta placed her steel-framed glasses on the paperwork in front of her and clasped her hands on the desk. She looked at Allegra for some seconds before finally speaking.

‘Some time ago I received a letter from our Bishop. It seems the Holy Father is concerned as to how our Mother Church can better reach out to the youth in our community, particularly in our universities. Some of the Church’s younger priests and nuns are to be granted scholarships for study.’ Mother Alberta swallowed, her eyes hardening. If it had been left up to her she would have simply replied that she had no one suitable, but the Bishop had insisted, pointing out that one member of her Order had achieved the highest grade in the region for science and mathematics. Allegra’s nomination had been the cause of considerable friction between the strong-willed Mother Superior and her equally strong-willed Bishop, but in the end she had no choice but to give way.

‘You have been enrolled to study at Ca’ Granda, the Universita Statale in Milano. You will take a major in the Philosophy of Religion and your options include archaeology and chemistry, although to what use you might put the latter is certainly not clear to me. You will spend the next six years studying.’ Mother Alberta sniffed loudly.

‘Oh Reverend Mother, me? In Milano!’ Allegra gasped.

‘I would have much preferred that you attended one of our fine Catholic universities,’ Mother Alberta said quietly, ‘but I am assured that the dangers of the state universities have been fully appreciated.’ She fixed Allegra with her stern gaze. ‘Nevertheless, my child, those dangers must not be underestimated.’ It was as close as Mother Alberta would ever come to disloyalty to Rome. ‘You have been chosen not only for your academic grades, but for your ability to resist the temptations of a dangerous world.’

‘Reverend Mother, I won’t let you down, I promise!’

‘I’m sure you won’t, my child. You will leave in the new year and our prayers will go with you. We will miss you,’ she added, in a rare moment of warmth. Mother Alberta replaced her glasses, signalling that the interview was at an end.

For all of her nineteen years Allegra had lived in Tricarico. Now her Church had made a decision that would have a profound impact on her life. Despite her sadness at leaving all that she had ever known, Allegra could feel butterflies of excitement and she knew it was God’s will that she be allowed to go out and explore the world beyond her Convent and her village. For once, she did not question the decision.

In a world that Allegra was yet to discover, the idea of God’s will was being used in a different way. In Israel it was being used for political purposes, as an explanation to champion the interests of secular politicians. The pointers in the Middle East were coming together.

Jerusalem

E ach year it seemed that the tiny State of Israel faced an ever increasing threat.

Professor Yossi Kaufmann had exchanged his trademark open-necked shirt and slacks for the uniform of a Major General in the Israeli Defense Force. At a time of crisis all Israelis had obligations to the defence of the country and being a Professor of Mathematics and Honorary Director of the Shrine of the Book didn’t excuse him from those responsibilities. The Head of Israeli Intelligence was ill and Professor Kaufmann, a previous Head of that office, was the ideal choice to step into the breach. The distinguished, square-jawed Israeli was tall with sandy-coloured hair and a face that bore the creases of the years. Yossi Kaufmann was widely respected, but today even his standing might not be enough to avert disaster. He looked around the Cabinet Room with increasing concern.

The Prime Minister sat at the centre of one side of the big table. In front of each minister was a salmon-coloured folder marked ‘Top Secret – Cabinet Eyes Only’. Some of them, Yossi knew, would not have read his report so he had backed it up with a detailed verbal brief, but to no avail. It was the detail they were all ignoring.

‘And so, Prime Minister,’ Yossi concluded, ‘notwithstanding the strategic importance of the Palestinian village of Deir Azun and its close proximity to Jewish settlements in the West Bank, we have no firm intelligence that the attacks on our settlements originated from that particular village.’

‘But given its location it seems logical?’ The question came from the Defense Minister, Reze Zweiman. A big walrus of a man and a veteran of both the 1967 Six Day War and the 1973 Yom Kippur War, he was a staunch member of the hard right faction of the Likud Party and no friend of the Arabs. Zweiman had seen too many of Israel’s sons die on the battlefield.

‘We have an open mind, Minister,’ Yossi replied, ‘but you can be assured that we are doing everything that is humanly possible to pinpoint the source of these attacks.’

‘That may well be, Prime Minister.’ The Defense Minister shifted his gaze from Yossi to the small man sitting in the imposing brown leather chair, the back of which was just slightly higher than the others. Prime Minister Chenamem Gebin looked very grim; his broad, tanned forehead creased and worried.

‘But these Arabs,’ the Defense Minister went on, ‘need to be taught a lesson they will not forget. It’s not only the future of the government, it’s the very future of Israel that is at stake here. There have been no fewer than three attacks on the settlements in the past week; fifteen Israeli citizens, including six children, are dead and three members of the Armed Forces have also been killed. This village is a seething mass of terrorism and we should force the occupants out. Permanently.’

‘No one is condoning these attacks, Reze, but we need to tread carefully.’ It was the Foreign Minister, Shome Yadan. Yossi Kaufmann silently thanked the voice of reason coming from the elder statesman of the Likud Party. ‘Right now,’ the Foreign Minister continued, ‘the United States and international opinion are firmly on our side but if we go in hard against a Palestinian village without proof, and there are civilian casualties, that support can change very quickly, particularly outside the United States. We’ll be seen as the bad guys, especially if we force the Palestinians out and replace the village with an Israeli settlement. Worse still, it will fuel Muslim resentment against the West.’

Reze Zweiman sniffed arrogantly, making no attempt to disguise his contempt for anyone he labelled a ‘dove’. ‘You seem to forget one thing, Minister. At the end of the day, Israeli flesh and blood is the responsibility of this Cabinet and this government. Not some shinyarsed bunch of international bureaucrats in the State Department in Washington or anywhere else. The only way we will ever make Israel secure is to occupy the West Bank to the extent that it is firmly under our control. Over time the strategy should be to incorporate it into Israel and force the Palestinians out.’