The Dead Sea Cipher by Elizabeth Peters

Author:Elizabeth Peters
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 9780061840890
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The Lithostroton. The Greek word meant “Stone Pavement,” and the name, in the Gospel, must have referred to a courtyard of such extent and magnificence that no more specific designation was considered necessary. Standing on the enormous stones, Dinah knew that none of the other holy sites would affect her, except by what they symbolized. This was the reality; the one place of which even the skeptic must say, “Here His feet once stood.”

In a happy fog Dinah trailed along the Via Dolorosa, where they stopped at each of the traditional Stations of the Cross. The street was narrow and winding, steeply ascending and descending. The last stations were inside the sprawling Basilica of the Holy Sepulcher—cavernous and dark, lighted by the candles of penitential processions and echoing with chants in a dozen different languages. One such procession swept by them as they stood, blinking, in the gloom of the great nave; from the magnificent robes and splendid black beard of the young priest who led it, Dinah guessed it must be a group of Greek or Eastern Orthodox Christians. Many of the pilgrims looked very poor. One old woman, a black shawl held around her head, could barely walk; her younger companion, perhaps her daughter, supported her faltering footsteps and held the candle. A young father carrying a toddler might have come from one of the Arab countries. He held the child, a pretty boy with clustering black curls, in one arm; his other hand was clasped firmly over the boy’s small fist and the stub of the candle the child had insisted on carrying himself. They went by in a burst of song, led by the sonorous bass of the priest, leaving an emptiness behind.

After the courtyard of the Antonia, the suave beauty and gold and silver ornaments of the chapels of the Crucifixion were not to Dinah’s taste. She backed away, leaving Mrs. Marks, the priest, and—rather surprisingly—Frank Price in prayer by the altars. Back on the floor of the basilica, she wandered around in the gloom for a while, trying to make sense out of the complex plan. She did not succeed; it was hard to get enough light by which to read the guidebook, let alone identify the plan with the actuality. After a time she found herself near the Tomb, and recognized the rest of her own party. Drogen was listening to their guide, who rattled off statistics about the basilica. René was also listening, politely if not enthusiastically, and Martine leaned against the marble enclosure walls with an expression Dinah needed no light to interpret.

She went to join them, glancing in the Tomb as she passed. There was a line waiting, as usual; the two chambers were very small, and the attendant priest, or whatever he was, had to keep people moving. The rocky ledge where His body had been laid was now encased in marble, like everything else in Jerusalem and Bethlehem.

As Dinah came within earshot, the guide was in full swing.

“The

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