Alex Mitchell - The 13th Tablet

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 Benjamin 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?’

‘117 °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 .

‘Fascinating, who’d have known…’ said Eli.

‘It seems that Tudela hoped his friend in Safed would pursue a quest about an important item he had learned about in Mosul.’

‘I think we have both been looking at the same story from two different ends,’ said Eli.

Mina and Jack looked at him in surprise, then with anticipation.

‘When I first arrived in Safed, I was still a young bible student. Every day I learned more on the saintly scholars who shaped our destiny. I was especially interested in the Ari and his disciples. I read avidly, day and night. Blessed was the time when my eyesight was keen and my hand steady. Never mind, as you probably know, the Holy Ari didn’t write much himself, his disciples wrote down all his teachings.’

‘No, I didn’t know that’, said Jack ironically, ‘but please go on,’ he added quickly, after Mina kicked him in the shin to shut him up.

‘Well’, continued the old man, ‘when Chaim Vital, Ari’s favourite disciple wrote the famous book The Tree of Life , which compiled his master’s teachings, there were only manuscripts, no printed copies. Each disciple had to make a vow, under the threat of excommunication, not to allow any copy to made and sent to a foreign land and to keep the knowledge secret. It did get out eventually and was published, but I always wondered how accurate the printed copies were.’

Eli took a deep breath and continued: ‘After years of patience and dedication, I was finally introduced to a small group of men in Safed who let me read from one of the original manuscripts. There I was, in a small room, reading feverishly through the ancient pages of The Tree of Life , when I suddenly came across a short marginalia, you know, a tiny commentary in the margin. It was so strange that to this day it is still branded in my memory.’

‘What did it say, Eli?’ asked an excited Mina.

Eli quoted: ‘ Was it God’s plan? Rabbi Benjamin the Traveller divided our community, but the Lion cast out the Dark Ones. Beware of their return. In the holy room. ’