the way the British treated the 1952 scroll. Instead of stabilizing it with a coating of airplane glue, as they did, he used a thin coating of a clear plastic developed for the space program. The scroll was then sawed in half lengthwise, and the segments lifted off like the layers of a piece of onion. David used a dentistâs drill to brush away the loose corroded material, and there underneath it were the letters, most of them legible.â
âThey had been punched into the copper with a sharp instrument?â
Bronstein nodded. âSome type of awl, struck with a hammer or a rock. The copper was almost pure, as was the copper in the 1952 scroll. The metallurgists feel the metal sheets may have come from the same source.â
âAre there any notable differences between the scrolls?â Harry asked.
âSeveral. The one found in â52 was made from two copper sheets crudely riveted together. David Leslauâs scroll is a few inches wider than the other and was made of a single rolled sheet. And the first scroll almost certainly was enscribed by one man, while this one was the work of two people. See here.â Bronstein held up one of the photographs. âThe first section of Davidâs scroll was punched out by someone who grew increasingly feeble as he went along. Perhaps a very old man, maybe wounded or dying. Some of the letters are indistinct and all of them are shallowly incised.â
âBeginning here,â he said, showing Harry a second image, âthe letters become sharp and clear. And there are syntactic differences between the two sections. Obviously the task was interrupted and then resumed by a stronger man, perhaps someone younger who took dictation from the original scribe.â
âWill you help me run through it?â Harry asked.
Bronstein placed the photographs in front of him. âTry it yourself.â
What he gleaned from the opening passage chilled him. âMy God. Do you think this could be
the
Baruch of the Bible, the prophetâs sidekick, writing about
his
Jeremiah?â
Bronstein smiled. âWhy not?â he said. âIt is as easy to believe as to disbelieve.â
The words were consonant skeletons unfleshed by vowels, as in Yiddish and in modern Hebrew writings. Harry struggled like a child who was beginning to learn the trick of reading.
âIn the watering place ⦠outside the wall on the north â¦â
âSplendid,â Max said.
â ⦠buried three cubits beneath the rock on which ⦠sang the king, a vessel containing fifty-three talents of gold.â
âYouâll have no trouble.â
âWhat watering place outside the north wall?â Harry said. âWhat rock? What king?â
âAh.â Bronstein was grinning at him. âYouâre beginning to see why I feel that David Leslau is not likely to reach into the earth and pluck out the Temple treasures. The watering place is long gone. The rock perhaps is dust. One would guess that the king was David, given the reference to song. But no appropriate legend that fits David has survived the ages. We donât even know that the scrollâs walled city is Jerusalem. And to make matters impossible, the priests were experts in cryptic writing. They would have disguised each reference point as thoroughly as possible, so that even in the age in which it was enscribed, most of it would have made sense only to an âinsider.ââ Bronstein picked up his briefcase and rose from his chair. âAll the reference books are on my shelves. Iâll be nearby if you need me.â
The scroll was a long series of passages, each stating the whereabouts of a separate
genizah
and listing in some detail the objects that had been hidden there. Harry took a long while to read through the first half-dozen passages, and the table in front of him became littered with reference volumes. Several times a missing letter forced him to guess at a