The Alexandria Link

My learned brother Augustine, I have read the writings of Flavius Josephus, a Jew who wrote with great authority. He lived a century after our Lord was born. He clearly identifies Palestine with the land in the old text, noting that the region is the only place he knew where a Jewish political entity existed. Of a more recent time, Eusebius of Caesaria, on behalf of our most exalted emperor Constantine, has designated names from the old text to sites in Palestine. I have read his work On the Names of Places in Holy Scripture. But after studying a text of the old text in Hebrew, it is clear that Eusebius’s work is flawed. He seems to have loosely applied meanings to place-names and in some cases simply guessed, yet this work carries a great importance. Pious and credulous pilgrims use it as their guide.

Jerome, my friend, we must execute this task with great diligence. Our religion is but forming, and there are threats from all sides. What you are attempting is critical to our existence. To have the old text translated into Latin will allow those words to be read by many. I urge you not to alter what those who created the Septuagint started. Our Lord Christ lived in Palestine. For the message we are formulating with the newer testament, we must present one voice. I recognize what you have said: that the old text seems not a record of the Israelites in what we call Palestine. Why should that matter? Our goal is much different from that of those who created the Septuagint. Our newer testament must be a fulfillment of the old. Only in this way will the meaning of our message be elevated to a status greater than the old. To link the old with the new will demonstrate how vital our Lord Christ was and how important His message is. The errors that you note in the Septuagint need not be corrected. As you have written, the Jews who aided those translators had forgotten their past. They knew nothing of their existence from long ago, only what was happening around them at the time. So in your translations, the Palestine that we know should remain the Palestine of both testaments. This is our task, dear brother, our mission. The future of our religion, of our Lord Christ, is with us and He inspires us to do His will.

Thorvaldsen stopped reading.

Here were two church fathers, perhaps the most brilliant of all, laboring with how to manipulate the translation of the Old Testament into Latin. Jerome was clearly privy to a manuscript written in the original Hebrew and had noted errors in its previous translation into Greek. Augustine knew of Herodotus and Strabo-the former recognized as the father of history, the latter of geography. One a Greek, the other Roman. Men who lived centuries apart and fundamentally changed the world. Strabo’s Geography still existed and was regarded as one of the most precious of ancient texts, revealing much about that world and its time, but his Histories was gone.

No copy existed.

Yet Augustine had read it.

In the Library of Alexandria.

“What does all that mean?” Gary asked.

“A great deal.”

If the early church had falsified the translation of the Old Testament, adapting its words to fit its purposes, that could have catastrophic implications.

Herma

His mind raced with what the Blue Chair was pla

The pages Thorvaldsen held were precious. They formed part of Herma

He wished his friend well.

Then there was the president of the United States. His death was pla

That was Thorvaldsen’s problem.

He fished his cell phone from a pocket and dialed.

SIXTY-SIX

SINAI PENINSULA

MALONE ROUSED PAM. SHE SAT UP FROM THE NYLON SEAT AND removed the earplugs.

“We’re here,” he said.

She shook sleep from her brain and perked up. “We’re landing?”

“We’re here,” he said again over the engine roar.

“How long have I been out?”

“A few hours.”

She stood from the bench, her parachute still strapped to her back. The C130 bumped and ground its way through the morning air. “How long till we land?”

“We’re getting out of here shortly. Did you eat?”

She shook her head. “No way. My stomach was in my throat. But it’s finally calmed down.”

“Drink some water.” He motioned at the holder.

She opened the bottle and gulped a few swallows. “This thing is like riding in a boxcar.”

He smiled. “Good way of putting it.”

“You used to fly on these?”

“All the time.”

“Your job was tough.”

That was the first time he’d ever heard a concession about his former profession. “I asked for it.”

“I’m only begi

“Maybe he did.”

“Right. He used me, Cotton.”

The admission seemed to hurt. “Using people is part of this business.” He paused, then added, “Not a part I ever liked.”

She drank more water. “I used you, Cotton.”

She was right. She had.

“I should have told you about Gary. But I didn’t. So who am I to judge anybody?”

Now was not the time to have this discussion. But he saw that she was bothered by all that had happened. “Don’t sweat it. Let’s finish this. Then we’ll talk about it.”

“I’m not sweating it. Just wanted you to know how I felt.”

That was a first, too.

At the rear of the plane, an a

“What’s happening?” she asked.

“They have some chores. Remember, we’re just along for the ride. Walk back that way and stop where the loadmaster is standing.”

“Why?”

“Because they asked us to. I’m coming with you.”

“How’s our friend?” she asked.

“Nosy. We both need to keep an eye on him.”

He watched as she headed aft. He then crossed to the opposite bulkhead and said to McCollum, “Time to go.”

He’d noticed McCollum had watched their talk.

“She know?”

“Not yet.”

“A bit cruel, wouldn’t you say?”

“Not if you knew her.”

McCollum shook his head. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“Actually, that’s real good advice.”

He saw that his message had struck home. “Sure thing, Malone. I’m just the guy who saved your hide.”

“Which is why you’re here.”

“So generous of you, considering I have the quest.”

He gathered up the rigger sack in which he’d stuffed what George Haddad had left for him and the book on St. Jerome. They’d retrieved them from the airport before leaving Lisbon. He clipped the bundle to his chest. “And here’s what I’ve got. So we’re even.”

McCollum clipped a pack to his chest, too. Supplies they might need. Water, rations, GPS locator. According to the map, a village lay about three miles from where they were headed. If nothing was found they could walk there and find a way twenty miles south to where there was an airport, near Moses Mountain and the St. Catherine’s monastery, both popular tourist attractions.

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