The Rosetta Key Read Online Free PDF Page B

by Titans.
    The skyline was punctuated everywhere by domes, minarets, and church towers bequeathed by this crusader or that conqueror, each trying to leave a holy building to make up for his own national brand of slaughter. The effect was as competitive as rival vegetable stalls at a Saturday market, Christian bells tolling as muzzeins wailed and Jews chanted their prayers. Vines, flowers, and shrubs erupted from the ill-maintained wall, and palms marked squares and gardens. Outside, ranks of olive trees marched down to twisting, rocky valleys that were smoky from burning garbage. From this terrestrial hell-dump one lifted the eye to heaven, birds wheeling in front of celestial cloud palaces, everything sharp and detailed. Jerusalem, like Jaffa, was the color of honey in the low sun, its limestone fermenting in the yellow rays.
    “Most men come here looking for something,” Mohammad remarked as we gazed across the Citadel Valley toward the ancient capital. “What do you seek, my friend?”
    “Wisdom,” I said, which was true enough. That’s what the Book of Thoth was supposed to contain, and by Franklin’s spectacles I could use some. “And news of one I love, I hope.”
    “Ah. Many men search their entire lives without finding wisdom
or
love, so it is well you come here, where prayers for both might be answered.”
    “Let’s hope so.” I knew that Jerusalem, precisely because it was reputed to be so holy, had been attacked, burned, sacked, and pillaged more times than any place on earth. “I’ll pay you now and seek out the man I’m to stay with.” I tried not to jingle my purse too much as I counted out the rest of his fee.
    He took his pay eagerly and then reacted with practiced shock. “Not a gift for sharing my expertise about the Holy Land? No recompense for the safety or your arrival? No affirmation of this glorious view?”
    “I suppose you want credit for the weather, as well.”
    He looked hurt. “I have tried to be your servant, effendi.”
    So, twisting in my saddle so he couldn’t see how little was left, I gave him a tip I could ill afford. He bowed and gave effusive thanks.
    “Allah smiles on your generosity!”
    I wasn’t able to keep the grumpiness from my “Godspeed.”
    “And peace be upon you!”
    A blessing that had no power, it turned out.
     
CHAPTER 4
     
    J erusalem was half ruin, I saw when I rode down the dirt track and crossed a wooden bridge to the black iron of the Jaffa Gate, and through it to a market beyond. A
subashi
, or police officer, checked me for weapons — they were not allowed in Ottoman cities — but allowed me to keep my poor dagger. “I thought Franks carried something better,” he muttered, taking me for European despite my clothing.
    “I’m a simple pilgrim,” I told him.
    His look was skeptical. “See that you remain one.”
    Then I sold my donkey for what I’d paid for it — a few coins back, at least! — and got my bearings.
    The gate had a steady stream of traffic. Merchants met caravans, and pilgrims of a dozen sects shouted thanksgiving as they entered the sacred precincts. But Ottoman authority had been in decline for two centuries, and powerless governors, raiding Bedouin, extortionate tax collection, and religious rivalry had left the town’s prosperity as stunted as cornstalks on a causeway. Market stalls lined major streets, but their faded awnings and half-empty shelves only emphasized the historical gloom. Jerusalem was somnolent, birds having occupied its towers.
    My guide Mohammad had explained the city was divided into quarters for Muslims, Christians, Armenians, and Jews. I followed twisting lanes as best I could for the northwest quadrant, built around the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and Franciscan headquarters. The route was depopulated enough that chickens skittered out of my way. Half the houses appeared abandoned. The inhabited homes, built of ancient stone with haphazard wooden sheds and terraces jutting like boils,