The 13th Enumeration (23 page)

It was not my intention to doubt that, the Doctrines of the Illuminati, and principles of Jacobinism had not spread in the United States. On the contrary, no one is more truly satisfied of this fact than I am.

The idea that I meant to convey, was, that I did not believe that the Lodges of Free Masons in this Country had, as Societies, endeavoured to propagate the diabolical tenets of the first, or pernicious principles of the latter (if they are susceptible of separation). That Individuals of them may have done it, or that the founder, or instrument employed to found, the Democratic Societies in the United States, may have had these objects; and actually had a separation of the People from their Government in view, is too evident to be questioned.

As Darius closed the file, he couldn’t shake the idea that the secret was somehow connected to the symbolism associated with the intrigues of the early American republic. He wondered if the Order had somehow been involved in this as well. What was he missing?

Chapter 50

Capernaum, Israel

Zane rolled out of his sleeping bag with a groan. He hadn’t been this sore since David, Sam, and he had climbed the eleven-pitch, twelve-hundred-foot face in Zion National Park. Sitting up, he did some stretching to loosen up and get the circulation going. Pulling on his boots, he stepped out of the tent and looked around. It was just after sunup, peaceful and still. The only sound he heard was some small bird, maybe a sparrow or wren. As he walked down to the water’s edge, he noted some stirring in the staff campsite. He walked along the shore for about a half-mile, then returned to his tent to get a bite to eat. He guessed he had about fifteen or sixteen more loads to go to finish the large debris pile. He wanted to finish it by noon, so he decided to get an early start. After eating some beef jerky and an apple, he washed it down with a bottle of water and set out to find his wheelbarrow.

By the time he and the full wheelbarrow had reached the dump site, his sore muscles had begun to loosen up. The camp was waking when he returned. On his way past the screening tables, Zane waved to Rachael as she looked up.

Later that morning on his return from the ninth trip for the day, he noticed that no one was at the screening tables. Everyone seemed to be congregated near the main dig site. Zane could see excited gestures from some of those gathered near the entrance to the cellar.

Working his way to the front of the group to find out what the excitement was about, he finally was able to see down into the excavated cellar. Down in the hole, Efran, William Flinders, and Rachael were looking at what appeared to be a large stone at the bottom of the stairs. Zane, not fluent in Hebrew, was having difficulty understanding the excited voices. He only caught bits and pieces of the conversation.

“Rachael,” Zane called down, “what did you find?”

Rachael, her face shining with excitement, replied, “A large piece of stone masonry which reads in part ‘Levi ben Cheleph.’ The rest of the inscription is missing.”

Zane looked questioningly at Rachael. “Is this important?”

“Zane,” Rachael said in a leading voice,
“Cheleph
is Hebrew for exchange or changing. You would know it by the Greek equivalent,
Alphaeus.
You know, Levi, the tax collector or customs officer, son of Alphaeus, also called Matthew in the New Testament?”

It took a second to sink in. “You mean the Gospel of Matthew, Matthew?” Zane said incredulously.

“This could well be his house. We will need some sort of confirming evidence to be absolutely certain, but this is an incredibly exciting find.” Rachael turned back to the stone and helped take pictures and notes. Once they had completely documented the find, they would carefully remove it to a secure location for later transport to the Antiquities Museum.

Zane walked back slowly to his wheelbarrow. He intended to finish the pile before lunch, and he had several loads to go. As he hauled the wheelbarrow up the trail, he thought about the find. If it did indeed turn out to be the house of Matthew, then it would really be big news in the biblical archeology community. From here on out, he guessed extra special care would be taken with every piece of debris removed from the site. Zane hoped they would find additional confirmatory evidence. Too bad this was to be his last working day. Maybe he could ask Rachael if she would mind keeping him updated by e-mail after he returned to the States. He would sure like to know if they found more important artifacts.

Tomorrow was the Sabbath, and no work would be done at the site. His plane did not leave until Sunday morning, so he thought he might explore the Arbel Cliffs near Migdol. He’d heard they had some climbing routes there. The cliffs were about five miles south of Capernaum, close enough to hike.

Finally, he finished. It had taken him until one p.m. to haul the rest of the pile up the hill. Parking the wheelbarrow, he walked up to his tent for lunch. He would miss all this when he returned to college. He loved the outdoors and the hard, satisfying work. Thankfully, he only had two more months of college. After that, he still wanted to work in the field of archeology, but he did not know exactly how he was going to proceed. For now, he was just content being part of the whole endeavor as a volunteer.

Zane finished his lunch and headed back down to the screening area. Rachael was not there, so he asked one of the other screeners if he could help. The screener pointed to Rachael’s table. “Rachael will probably not be back today, so you can take her place if you want.”

Zane walked over to Rachael’s screen and began to sort the debris. He worked until just before sundown. He would likely be gone all day on Saturday, so he wanted to say good-bye and thanks to Rachael. Walking over to her tent, he saw the flap was open. Stooping down, he looked in and saw her. Working on her field reports, she sat cross-legged on a small canvas camp chair at her makeshift desk. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail as she read over her reports; in her left hand her fingers unconsciously twirled a pencil. She was so absorbed she did not immediately look up. Zane couldn’t help but smile—he found Rachael Neumann’s personality compelling. She did things, and more often than not she did them well.

“Excuse me, Rachael,” he finally interrupted, “I’ll be leaving Saturday evening, and I just wanted to say good-bye and thank you. I really appreciated the words of encouragement you gave me the other night. I’ve enjoyed my time here.”

Rachael smiled. “Well, Zane, you will be sorely missed. You did the work of two people while you were here. And as for our talk the other night, I enjoyed the conversation. And the company as well.”

Zane hesitated, wanting to ask her for the favor but feeling uncomfortable at the same time. Finally, after an awkward silence during which Rachael intently watched him, Zane said, “Would you . . . I would like to ask you a favor.”

“What?” she asked simply.

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, would you e-mail me any new, exciting discoveries you find here? I would really like to know what’s going on over the next couple of months.”

Rachael warmly smiled and said, “Under one condition. I will make you a trade of sorts. Our talk the other night sparked my interest in the prophecy of Daniel 9. I will trade you my updates from here at the dig site if you will keep me updated on your search for the truth of Daniel 9 and the Messiah.”

Zane looked at her in sincere surprise. “You really want me to keep you up to date on my research?”

“Sure, why not?” she asked. “It’s something I do not know much about but would like to know more.”

Zane stuck out his hand. “You have yourself a deal, Miss Neumann.”

As Zane stepped back to go, Rachael asked, “You said you would be leaving Saturday evening. Will you be staying at the dig tomorrow?”

“No, I am going to hike over to the Arbel Cliffs tomorrow. I’ve heard they have some climbing routes over there. I thought I would check them out.”

Rachael hesitated as if she was going to say something and changed her mind. “Well then, it was a pleasure working with you, Zane. I hope you have a safe trip home. Oh,” she said, tearing off a strip of paper from a pad on her desk. After writing something down, she handed it to him. “That’s my e-mail. I look forward to hearing from you.”

* * *

That evening, Efran returned to his apartment in Tel Aviv to send a report to his contact. He wanted to keep this fish on the hook. The new find would make this dig one of the most important in the Holy Land. Hopefully this would spark the interest of his contact. All he needed now was to find something he could abscond without anyone noticing. He would have to watch extra closely. Once he finished composing and encrypting his message, he sent it on its way to the underworld.

Chapter 51

The next morning, Zane woke and packed some food and water in his climbing pack. Opening his tent door, he looked out. Rachael Neumann sat waiting on the stone he used to watch the sunset.

Smiling, she said, “Good morning, Zane. I was wondering if you minded some company for your hike today.”

Surprised, he said, “Sure, I would like that. But I thought you preferred your own company to that of others?”

“If I remember correctly, I said I am happy with my own company. Anyway, even if I did prefer my own company, isn’t a girl allowed to change her mind?”

Zane was both surprised and pleased at her roguish tone and the unexpected offer of companionship. “By all means, I would be happy to have your company for the day.” Gathering up his things, he closed up his tent and asked, “So which is the best way to go?”

Picking up her own backpack, Rachael replied, “How about we walk along the Galilee to Migdol, and then from there head inland to the cliffs?”

“Sounds good to me,” Zane replied. “Lead the way.”

They headed down the trail, through the dig site, and then to the shore of Galilee. It was a cool, crisp morning, and the sun was just coming over the horizon as they reached the edge of the water. Turning south along the shore, they walked in silence for several minutes. Walking beside Rachael, Zane wondered why she had decided to come along. Not that he minded.

Rachael pointed to a rock along the shore where a bird sat. “A pygmy cormorant,” she said. Overhead, she pointed. “A squacco heron—they live in the salt marshes. If we’re lucky enough, we might see a long-billed pipit around the Arbel Mountains.”

“You seem to know a lot about the birds of this area,” Zane said with curiosity in his voice.

Rachael replied, “My mother, father, and I used to go birdwatching when I was young.”

“Not anymore?” Zane asked.

A shadow of sadness crossing her face, Rachael replied, “No, we haven’t gone since my mother passed away. It just didn’t seem the same without her.”

He paused, taking in that information. “I’m sorry. It must have been hard on you.”

“Yes, it was, but it was harder on my father. Ima—my mother—was the love of his life. They were one when together and never happy when apart. He still has a hard time talking about her. He misses her so much I believe it hurts him to talk about it.”

“When did she pass away?”

“When I was ten,” Rachael replied. “It’s funny—I always thought I remembered her well. But I’m only recently learning to see the woman she was through adult eyes. You know, the memories I have of my mother as a ten-year-old are not the same as I would have had as an adult. I remember her as gentle, beautiful, and motherly. But lately my father has been telling me stories of a woman I did not know. He says Ima was one of the most intelligent, competitive, and strong women he ever knew. Frankly, it’s hard to reconcile that to the picture of her in my mind.”

Zane listened as Rachael talked. He couldn’t imagine the loss, pain, or insecurity one must feel in losing a parent at such a young age—but talking about the memories seemed to bring her joy.

Rachael continued, smiling. “Just recently my father told me of a time when they had to call a plumber. Abba and Ima had been married for a couple of years at that time. He was at work, and Ima was at home when the plumber, Mario, arrived to unstop our kitchen sink. When my dad retold it, he couldn’t help but laugh. Mario was a handsome Italian with a reputation for being quite a ladies’ man in town. This they only learned later. He showed up at the door, and when my mother answered, he kind of lost his head over her. Now, looking back at my mother with the eyes of a woman, I can only imagine what that hot-blooded Italian must have thought. She was a little taller than me, with incredible good looks and a figure to go with them. Anyway, Mario immediately started shining up to Ima with his eyes and body language. He couldn’t put two words together in an intelligent manner.”

Zane’s laughter interrupted her story. “I bet that would have been funny to see,” he said.

Her eyes shining, Rachael continued, “With Mario trying to get out a ‘Good morning, ma’am’ between his incredulous stare and unabashed admiration, my mother just stuck out her hand and said, ‘Good morning, Mr. Moretti, thank you for coming.’ Mario, practically drooling by this time, took my mother’s hand to shake. Well, her handshake was not quite what he expected! She shook his hand and squeezed until the blood started to drain from poor Mario’s face. In the few seconds it took to get his attention and his mind back on track, Mario Moretti knew my
i
ma was no ordinary woman. Releasing his hand, she asked him to come in and take a look at her kitchen sink. Mario’s juvenile antics were immediately replaced with professional respect.”

Rachael laughed. “Poor Mario somehow managed to unstop their sink with one hand. Only later did they learn that she had broken one of the bones in his hand. For the next nine years, Mario was my parents’ plumber. Abba said that while Mario still had the reputation for being a ladies’ man, he never again acted in an inappropriate manner around my mother. At her funeral, Mario Moretti came uninvited at the very end to pay his respects. He laid flowers on my mother’s casket. He came up to my father when the funeral was over and said, ‘Mr. Neumann, I am so sorry. Your wife was an exceptional woman, a good woman, a strong woman, a beautiful woman. A type of woman few men ever have the privilege of meeting in life. You have my sincerest condolences.’ Abba said that tough macho Italian had wet eyes when he turned away and left.”

They talked
pleasantly
, Zane
asking about the wildlife and places they passed
. Eventually, Rachael said, “You know, she and my dad met at a dig. She was an American college s
tudent and my father an Israeli studying to be an archeologist
. She was a Christian and he Jewish. My father said that despite all the reasonable advice of both their parents, they got married and neither of them ever regretted it. Looking back, he says it wasn’t the wisest decision they could
have made, but they were happ
y. He gives most of the credit to her . . . he says she never beat him with her Christianity, but with gentle love always showed by her actions what it meant for her to be a Christian.

“In a way, I guess, that is probably part of the reason I love archeology so much. I share my mother’s faith as a believer in Yeshua, the Messiah, and her love of searching for evidence which proves the accuracy of
the biblical records
. Though my father does accept the historical Yeshua—or Jesus, as most Christians know him—he does not accept him as the Son of God or the promised Messiah. Every piece of evidence we find that shows the truth of the Gospel accounts adds that much more credibility to the message. I pray every day that in some way my work, my life, will be a tool that our Father in heaven will use to change the hearts of men and women such as my father.”

Rachael looked over at Zane to read in his face a sincere expression of warmth and comprehension.

He replied, “I think I understand part of what you feel. My interest in archeology was born out of events that happened in tenth grade. That year, my parents sent me to a camp in northern Arizona. I bunked with two other boys, David and Sam. David and I both lived in Tucson, and Sam lived about one hour from us in Patagonia. The fourth day, a warm summer day in July, our lives were set upon an unexpected course. Gary, the camp leader, told us we were in for a surprise. Driving several miles away, we parked and made our way up a narrow, well-worn path to the face of a cliff. Gary told us that today we would learn about sport climbing.

“After some instruction in proper safety and etiquette, we watched as Gary hiked around the side of the cliff to a worn trail and made his way to the top of the ninety-foot cliff. He threaded his rope through the anchor points at the top and then, rappelling down the cliff, joined us again at the bottom.

“Sam, an obvious natural, was the first to try. He climbed the rough limestone wall with little trouble and even less thought. When he made it to the top, his shouts of jubilation could be h
ea
rd for miles around. Gary let several other boys climb; then it was David’s turn.” Zane laughed, remembering the scene clearly. “David surveyed that cliff like a general about to wage a military campaign. Once satisfied, he secured the rope to his harness and calmly and confidently conquered the limestone face. After he came down, it was my turn.

“With some trepidation, I looked the cliff over. Trying not to show too much hesitation, I slowly made my way up the rough limestone cliff. About halfway up, I began to forget myself. I liked the rough feel of the cold rock under my fingers. I liked the way it made me feel alive. It felt good to shift my weight from one hand or foot to the other and feel the muscles in my body respond even though all my instincts were screaming for me to stop. I had never been much of a risk taker, but there was something about climbing that rock which stirred an unknown side of me. When I finally reached the top, my legs were shaking so badly I had to sit down for several minutes. That day, I realized I’d gotten as much satisfaction from being able to control my fear as I had from climbing that ninety feet of limestone.

“Those three hours of climbing began a pastime for the three of us that has lasted to this day. We spent all of our spare time looking for and climbing new routes. But it wasn’t just the sport. Climbing that summer was the catalyst for a friendship that changed all our lives.
We spent the last two years of high school climbing anything and everything we could throw a rope on.
What little money we earned, we spent on harnesses, ropes, carabiners, quick draws, and other gear.
As high school drew to a close, we asked our parents if we could spend summer break on a climbing expedition. They agreed, so the three of us piled into David’s old pickup truck and traveled all over the western United States, climbing just about every day. It was the greatest adventure of our lives up to that point.
”
             
Rachael’s eye
s
reflect
ed
Zane’s happy memories as she spoke.
             
“What an adventure, just the three of you exploring and climbing for a whole summer.  Sounds wonderful!”

             
“It was wonderful.  It was something the three of us will always remember.
”
             
“But how did climbing bring you here to Israel?”
             
Zane smiled as he continued. “
“When I got out of high school, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I really didn’t want to go to college. I loved climbing and wanted to travel around the world seeing and doing things. I have never been one who wanted to sit behind a desk. I love to work with my hands and feel the pain and satisfaction of effort and accomplishment. So I traveled the world and finally ended up in Israel climbing the Manara Cliffs. There I found some amazing biblical artifacts, and I knew right then that this was what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to be part of those who were bringing back the history of our past, especially the history of the past relating to biblical events and people. After that discovery, I returned home and went to college, and there I’ve been for the past four years. I come back to Israel every chance I get to volunteer at various digs. Hopefully, someday I will be able to explore the mysteries of the past full-time. But first I have to finish college. Right now, I am content with just volunteering.”

Rachael had a gleam
in her eyes as she replied, “Don’t you just love each new discovery that brings back a little bit of the past? Even a shard of a clay pot or a man-made brick for a wall is thrilling. They make you wonder about the people who used them. About the events of their lives and the lessons they learned. What they looked like or how they acted. About the influence they had on those around them and the impact they had on the history of the world. Yesterday, finding that piece of stone which some man carved so long ago, I had to think about the tenuous nature of our life on this earth. Someone thousands of years ago sweated and labored over that stone to impart the name of a man and his father. Yesterday we found it, and it spoke to us from the distant past. Those few words have set in motion a chain of events that we don’t even know the outcome of. It’s sobering for me to realize our actions today have a similar impact on those around us. And like the inscription we found, they may speak in some way to those of the future.”

A little wistfully Rachael asked, “What about your parents, what do they do?”

“My parents, Stephen and Hope own
a local plant nursery. Their love of plants and all things growing was second only to their love of God and their children. I have an older sister, Sarah, and a younger brother, Michael. Our parents homeschooled all three of us because they wanted to instill in us a set of principles and values not found in a secular setting. Just as they provided their plants with an ideal growing environment, they provided their children with the love, direction, and discipline they thought necessary to raise children who would honor their Creator.
”
             
“Sounds like you have wonderful parents Zane.” 
             
“Yes, they are great. As I get older I am realizing just how special they really are.”
             
Pointing at the mountain ahead, Rachael said, “There’s our destination. Those rough scaly cliffs have quite a history. They are about seven hundred feet higher than the Galilee. There are cliff dwellings there which the Jewish historian Josephus says the Hasmonaeans used. He recorded that the Romans finally subdued the rebels hiding there, throwing many of them to their deaths off the cliffs.”