Selected Detective
INFO OF ORTHODOX PRIESTS

Layla crosses the terrace courtyard in front of the church of the sacred tomb, pausing to observe the gate with its slender, upright and winding marble double arches like a young tree, before barging into the dim and large inner room. Three elderly women were kneeling before the Stone of Unction, making a cross mark on their chests and bending forward to kiss the surface of the stone pink; on its right side, it was a cross, there are steps from the stone to the softly lit chapel, the traditional site of the cross of Christ. From inside the belly of the building came the echo of the song, clashing and joining the hymn that was being sung in another room within the church so that the entire space felt pulsating with a frenzy of sounds. The Armenian group that let out a rowdy voice passed by, led by a priest in a long robe and head covering.

For a moment Layla waited right inside that entrance, her two eyes adjusting to the faint lights, nostrils inhaling a pungent smell, the, then turn left and walk to the Rotunda room with a large dome that dominates the western end of the church.

A young Greek orthodox priest was mopping the floor. Layla approached him and asked where he could meet Father Sergius, a contact Tom Roberts had given him last night.

“He was eating,” said the pastor in market English, while making a feeding gesture with his hands.

“Come ten hours.”

“night is this?” The priest furrowed his brows, looking puzzled, then suddenly smiled.

“Not ten hours. Ten...”

“min?”

“Ya, yes. minutes. Ten minutes.” Layla thanked him and, leaving him to continue his work, entered a solid granite pillar supporting the dome of the Rotunda. He sat down on the stone chair next to him. In front of him is the Aedicule, a place of worship full of icons and striking, marking the burial place of Christ. Behind him is the Katholicon, where the Greek orthodox choir dominates the center of the building, stretching eastwards, surrounded by corridors, galleries, doors and shrines that glow dimly, the rocks are blackened and smoothed by a touch of devotion and wax fumes over the centuries.

He looked around for a moment, watching the jumbled and boring architecture, the throng of tourists and worshippers, then opened his bag and took out a notebook, researching it for a while until he found the note he had made the night before.

His search on the internet has resulted in thousands of web pages bearing the name Willian de Relincourt, which of course is mostly unrelated to the men he is being attracted to. Having netted about a hundred web pages, it was only then obtained that, when he became the subject of an imaginative affair of speculation, the hard facts about de Relincourt were few and far between. Little is known indeed, all are known to appear to be from two texts from medieval chronicles, both translated and reproduced in a number of websites.

The short version, from William of Tyre's historical Rerum in Partibus Transmissionis Gesterum (The history of Deeds Done Beyond the Sea), written about 1170, records how

“After they conquered the city, the Crusaders found the church (the Holy Sepulchre) too small, so they built a tall, sturdy building on the church building.

Initially William de Relincourt handled this work, until he quarreled with King Baldwin and suffered a miserable fate.The bell tower was also built.” The second text, longer and more detailed than the first, appears in the massoth Schel Rabbi Benjamin (The Itinerary of Rabbi Benjamin), the author of which is a descendant of Jews from the Spanish city, The Tudela visited the Holy Land in 1169 as part of a ten-year journey in the Mediterranean and the Near East.

The story also revolves around Frenchman Gillon of Relincar, the church builder known to Christians as the Holy Sepulchre. In the teaching of the great work it is said that in the age when the trench was being dug to plant the rocks, which was common to it, it was common to do so, Gillon discovers a secret place that hides a treasure from a great and beautiful power, unlike any previously known treasure. Having a wise disposition, and completely disapproving of the treatment of the Jews, he said nothing of this, but hid it more, because it is already in its nature it will be able to cause greed and envy among Christians.

This news was inevitably heard also by the Bedouin King who ordered that the treasure be handed over. When Gillom refused, his eyes were gouged out and he was thrown into a deep well. He died only four days later, because he was a strong man, both body and soul. Few people know this, which was told to me by Simon the Jew, he knew this story from his grandfather. Around this text the whole bush of theories and estimates is growing. Some of them are relatively harmless, most of them absurd. One website, for example, which contains the hubbub of Gregorian songs, claims William has found the mummified body of Christ, thus undermining the entire Christian doctrine of the Resurrection. Others, embellished with mysterious astrological symbols and dubbed the sacred guardians of the Cosmic Portal, argued very seriously that de Relincourt had crossed a kind of intergalactic door, this allowed him to access higher dimensions of space and time and join an exclusive club of time travelers, which included moses, Tutankhamun, Conficius and King Arthur. There are many more in the same vein, connecting Relincourt with everything from freemasons to the holy Grail, from the Knights Templar to the Bermuda Triangle.

As far as Layla can find, there is no realistic explanation in it as to what exactly the two texts are intended to convey, there is also no independent evidence to prove the authenticity of the story they told or to confirm that someone named William de Relincourt actually ever existed.

This whole thing looks very weak. However, despite the lack of solid evidence, despite the nagging doubts behind his mind that he was being directed in a futile, elaborate search, the more he read the more he felt himself becoming tightly bound. Even with his limited knowledge of various things from the Middle Ages, Layla realizes that if the copy sent to her is an original letter and that leaves a large “andaut” then the original version must be a very important document and full of historical value, he said, that proves that Relincourt is not only a real person, but also the inventor of the no-man's treasure hidden beneath the church.

However, what has really stimulated his journalistic passion, and continues to stimulate it, is not merely the prospect of a dim light on a curious nine hundred-year-old mystery, rather it is more of a connection between the mystery and the present event. I have invaluable information for this man in his struggle against the oppressive Zionists; ... The information I presented earlier was closely related to the attached document. How can William de Relincourt help men like al-mulatham? why should the legends of the Middle Ages be relevant to contemporary Palestine? What is the connection between then and now? This was a question that filled the space of his mind right now, spinning continuously within his mind, like a spark of light from Catherine's wheel. This is a very important thing. He can feel it. It's just that he needs more information, more pieces of the puzzle.

“She's already here.” Layla raised her face. This young Greek orthodox priest was standing nearby, still holding a broom.

“Father Sergius,” he continued. “Dia come.” He pointed something behind Layla's shoulder towards Katholicon, when a fat man in a black robe, his gray hair tied in a ponytail at the back, and the, is setting the stairs in the corner between the wall and the pillar. Layla thanked the pastor and, as she stood up, walked across the choir to approach the man, it passed under a brass candle-sized pedati wheel and approached him just as he crawled up to the first rung.

“Father Sergius?” The man looked up and looked at her.

“My name is Layla Al-madani. I'm a journalist. A friend of mine said maybe a father can help me with a story I'm researching.” The priest stared at him for a moment, with sparkling eyes, and then stepped down onto the floor of the courtyard. His face was like a carefree gourd, extremely tangled and half covered by a gray beard. Under her cloak, Layla noticed, she was wearing socks, sandals and purple-colored tombrong pants.

“However you know everything there is to know about the history of this church,” Layla added.

The man smiled. “Your friend rated me higher than I deserved. No one knows everything there is to know about this Church of the Holy Sepulchre. I've been here for thirty years and I haven't even scratched the surface. This can be a challenging place once.” His voice was deep and heavy, his English was fluent. It smelled a little fragrant, probably because of the perfume after shaving it or the smell of incense from his robe.

“What do you want to know?” tanyakanya.

“I'm trying to find someone named William de Relincourt.” He laughed and raised his hand and stroked his beard thoroughly, then played his fingers on his gray hair.

“William de Relincourt, eh? why do you want to know about him?”

Layla shrugs. “just the story I'm researching.the mystery of Jerusalem. The full color.”

“Not the article you usually write.” He caught the look of wonder on Layla's face and started laughing amusedly.

“Oh, I know who you are, Miss al-madani. We are not cut off from the outside world. I've read a lot of articles you've written over the years. Very outspoken. You didn't let the Israelites open anything. As I recall you never showed any interest in the history of the Middle Ages.”

“Yes, this is an exception,” said, not wanting to provide more information, while trying to keep it cryptic.

“I'll slap Israel in the face again later, as soon as this is done.” The pastor laughed longer, his eyes shining with pleasure, as if he was well aware that Layla was not giving the whole story but was not too confused with the reality.

“In this case,” said, while lowering his hand and putting it on his distended stomach, “we must help you to have the article you wrote completed as soon as possible. We must not make Israel satisfied with itself, ‘ right? If you don't mind, I want to ask for a reward.”

“What is it?”

“holding this ladder while I try to drive away the damn birds above.” He nodded upward, where a pair of white doves were circling, slamming themselves repeatedly into the high windows of the church walls.

“I have to open one window,” clear. “let them out. Otherwise, they will dirty all the tourists.” As if confirming his words, a large lump of paint fell from a height, fouling the brass candle holder. Father Sergius grumbled and, turning around, crawled back up through the stairs.

“Make sure you hold it firmly and ajeg,” he said. “Sometimes slip.” Layla stepped forward and held down the stairs with her feet as the priest began to climb, moving deftly surprisingly to men of her size and weight. After four steps passed, he stopped and grabbed a long wooden pole leaning against the wall, holding it in one hand, while using her other hand to keep her body steady and balanced as she continued climbing, her ballooning robe allowed Layla to clearly see her pantaloon-covered legs and backside. A group of tourists entered the church, forming a circle around omphalos, an ornately carved marble basin in the middle of the floor, which according to Greek tradition marks the midpoint of the earth.

“He attracts all those who seem to disbelieve, you know?” Reveal Father Sergius as soon as he reaches the top of the stairs. “William de Relincourt's. Last year there was an Italian scientist who wanted to investigate the whole church with ... what is the name of the object used to measure the radiation?”

“Geiger counter?”

“Fast. He is convinced that William has opened the remains of an alien space ship and that the object is still buried under the floor somewhere. Really crazy people.” The priest began to extend the pole while holding on to the surface of the court with his left hand as he continued to climb towards the nearest window three meters above him. “And then there is a group of Americans who think that he has found the door to another world.”

“Holy Guard from Cosmic Portal,” Layla added with a smile.

“You've heard of them?”

“I visited his website.”

“Crazy. Totally bonkers. We even have an old Jew coming every day because he thinks de Relincourt found the Ten Commandments or something. Only the Jews I've seen here. Standing outside the Aedicule while praying as if it were the Wailing Wall. Every day.”

He was about to reach it now, swaying dangerously on the second rung from above, pushing the window with a pole, trying to open it. Three times the pole missed before it could finally be pushed directly under the window clamp.

The priest pushed the shutters out and opened, in the process tilting his body too far back so Layla was worried he would fall on her.

The Father tried to keep himself in balance and, holding on to the court, he waited until the pigeon found its window and flew out. As soon as the birds left, he lifted the pole again and, using the hook at the end, he pulled and closed the window and descended the stairs while breathing heavily.

“We should have a bigger ladder,” He said gasping, while putting a pole on the floor and cleaning his robe.

“I keep telling them. But then the Catholics said, we don't need it. The Syrian group says we can't work on it. The Armenian and Copts groups said they could not agree on anything made of wood or metal. So it's never finished.

Trust me, compared to some people in this place, de Relincourt's group is a model of good reason and sensitivity. Tea?” Layla rejected his offer and, leaving behind a stick and a ladder, the two walked back to the Rotunda. Two women, one older, the other young, both dressed in black, were kneeling in the dense Aedicule room, holding a candle and praying. The young Greek orthodox priest disappeared.

“So,” said Father Sergius began, bringing him to the stone bench that Layla had occupied and humbling himself at Layla's side, “That's exactly what you agreed. Now you want to know about William de Relincourt. I'm not sure there's much I can tell you, but please ask. I'll help as much as I can.” Layla pulls out the notebook and the questioner. Then, crossing his legs, he placed the book on his lap. His stationery was ready on a blank page.

“The first thing I want to ask is about the source,” Layla said. “I have searched for it on the internet, and as far as my invention de Relincourt is only mentioned by two medieval writers, William of Tyre and.” He opened the page of his book, trying to get the name of the Jewish adventurer.

“Benjamin of Tudela,” says Father Sergius.

“Well, there it is. You know that text?”

“No poultice out of the head, but yes, I have read it. Some time ago.” Layla bent down and pulled a stack of sheets of paper from her bag.

“As far as I can explain,” says Layla, “Baldwin, or Bedouin as Benjamin calls it, was King of Jerusalem at 1100–1118.” Father Sergius nodded.

“That means that both Benjamin and William of Tyre wrote, some 60 or 70 years after the events they describe passed.” The priest paused for a moment, then nodded.

“True.”

“There's another one?” ask Layla. “Is there another chronicle that says de Relincourt gave more information? Anything that reinforces this story?” The priest put his hands together on the belly, looking like a huge pink crab burning themselves on a rock in the scorching sun.

“I've never heard of this. Certainly no early crusade chronicle mentions his name. ekkehard of Aura, Albert of Aachen, and ... oh, what was the name of the other?. fulcher of Chartres, that's all besides that everything's really not told. William of Tyre and Benjamin of Tudela, it seems like those are the only two that we know of.”

“And only Benjamin says a lot about hidden treasures,” Layla said. “William of Tyre only mentions that de Relincourt and King Baldwin were slightly at odds.”

“I estimate they might have heard a different version of this story,” he said. “You will often find that with medieval chronicles. Particularly when they write years after a certain event passes by, explaining it in the second or third hand.they have different sources, picking up different details. It's just a matter of emphasis.”

“So, which version is more reliable and trusted in this case?” The father raised his eyebrows. “It is difficult to be sure, even if in balance I would say that it is most likely Benjamin from Tudela. It is acknowledged that he passed only through the Holy Land, unlike William of Tyre, who did live here.

But more details suggest that he is very likely to hear an even more complete version of the story.” William's explanation sounded like he was just repeating an old rumor.

Layla scribbled something on her book.

“And according to you, this story is true?”

Father Sergius shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows? There is no physical evidence to support it, but there is no reason not to take it into account. Benjamin is the most meticulous chronicle. It doesn't get carried away in the legends or the old stories of the wives or anything of that kind. Always check the source. I trust him.” Suddenly, a flash of light struck as a group of tourists from Japan entered the Rotunda and took pictures of the dome and the Aedicule. Layla folded one leg under the other and put her book on her knees.

“More obvious questions,” said. “If Benjamin's story is true, what did William actually find? What's this..” Layla takes a quick look at the printed sheet. “treasure of this great power and beauty, unlike the previously known treasure.” Father Sergius smiled and touched the back of his head, starting to play around with the tail ties of his horse.

“As you say, clear question. And the one I can't answer, I'm worried like that. Although I thought in the end you'd know that it wasn't a spaceship.”

He laughed amusedly at himself, his fingers playing hairbands, trying to tidy up his hair. In front of them, two women came out of the Aedicule, finished praying. Japanese tourists began filling the inside. The room of the shrine was crowded, just enough to receive four people one way. The song and hum that Layla had heard when she first entered the building were done, leaving only the echo of clinking sounds, as if the church rocks were whispering to each other.

“No,” reset Father Sergius, after adjusting the bond to his will and putting his hand back on the stomach.

“I don't know what William de Relincourt has found anymore than the thousands of others who have speculated on the subject over the past nine hundred years. Perhaps ancient relics, perhaps even the bones of Saints, or perhaps the treasures of the original Byzantine basilica. We don't know.”

Layla was tapping a pen on her thigh.

“And you said there was no physical evidence. Not a single one inside the church itself?”

He shook his head. “Although William de Relincourt was once here, he left no trace of anything.”

Layla raised the pen and scratched it on the eyebrow.

“What's below us? What might have been there when de Relincourt was at work?”

As Father stared at the ceiling of the dome, his fingers tapped on his stomach and then rose, gesturing for Layla to follow him, walk wobbling towards the entrance to the Rotunda where they have a clear view of the Aedicule and the main door of the church.

“A quick tour,” said. “just to give you a historical background.”

He stretched out his hands, as if trying to cover the whole room.

“At the time of the crucifixion, as we know, this whole area was outside the city walls, about a hundred meters or so to the south.”

He nodded his head to indicate direction.

“according to the Gospels and the early Christian writer Golgotha, the hill on which the crucifixion took place stands there.” He pointed towards the chapel above which Layla had passed on her way here earlier.

“While over there,” he pointed back towards Aedicule “ada quarry excavations have been abandoned, where various wealthy Jews have cut tombs for themselves. It is in one of these tombs that Joseph of Arimathea, the body of our Lord, was laid to rest.”

The last Japanese tourists emerged from the Aedicule and marched into Katholicon, with cameras still on.

“For a hundred years after the crucifixion, all these areas were the gathering places of worshipers and prayer for the early Christians,” he continued. “By 135 AD, the emperor hadrian exalted him and built temples to the gods Juno, Jupiter, and minerva. The temple stood here for the next two hundred years until Constantine the Great, the first Christian emperor, tore down the hadrian temple and built a very magnificent church in its place that incorporated all the holy sites.”

Again he pointed to the chapel and the Aedicule on that high place.

“The Church of Constantine was in turn corrupted in the invasion of the Persians in 614. After two years of rebuilding, the church collapsed in an earthquake. It was then rebuilt and torn down again by Khalifa fatimid al-Judge.

It was built and collapsed several more times before crusading activists came and built the structure we see today, which was completed in 1149. In fact, the building has undergone extensive replacement during the transitional years. Dome Rotunda, for example, and Aedicule both date from the nineteenth century.”

Layla hastily wrote in her book, trying not to miss.

“the important thing I tried to put forward,” he said, as he stepped, “is that below us are the remains of buildings that were built and rebuilt for over a thousand years, he said, right on the road to the hard soil layer. Who knew what de Relincourt had discovered when he started digging?

the Jews, the Romans, the early Christians, the Byzantines, the Persians, the Muslims whoever they may have buried something here were further excavated by William. And of course before that there were Canaanites, Jebusites, Egyptians, Syrians, Babylonians, and Greeks.

They had all been in Jerusalem at one point.

The reality is that we simply do not know what is below or who has kept it here. And to be honest, I doubt that we'll find out. And of course, that's part of the appeal of this story.”

He fell silent, playing the button of his robe. A pair of Coptik priests passed by in a hurry, wearing black headgear and carved wooden crosses. Layla finished writing and looked at her writing, curious and frustrated.

“It's like trying to put together a puzzle whose half of the piece is gone and we don't even know what the whole picture looks like.”. “And do it with eyes closed.” Father Sergius smiled. “That's history. A giant puzzle.”

From behind them came the sound of a stick click on the stone, a sound that grew louder until finally an old man passed towards the Rotunda and then towards the Aedicule. His back was bent, his facial skin loosened and covered in spots. He stopped in front of the shrine, pulled out a yarmulke and a small black book and began to pray, bowing repeatedly, muttering, laying on his staff. “That's the man I told you about,” said Father Sergius slowly. “Every day he comes here, routine like working hours. Believing that de Relincourt had found the Ten Commandments, or the Ark of the Covenant, or the sword of King David I had forgotten which. Something ancient about Jews. Like that, finally filling the needs of the soul, expectations that can not be solved in the real world.”

they stood watching the man for a while, then Layla looked back into her notes, flipping through the pages.

“Benjamin of Tudela says that de Relincourt is the ‘ altogether disapproves of the treatment of the Jewish nation’,” Layla said. “What does that mean?” Father Sergius smiled sadly, looking at the dome above.

“Crusaders are treating Jews horribly,” he said with a long sigh, “ slaughtering thousands as they head for Europe. Tens thousand.

When they captured Jerusalem, they drove the entire Jewish population of the city into the main synagogue and burned them alive. Men, women, children. Everything.”

He shook his head. “the same thing was done to Muslims. That said, the mosques are inundated with blood as high as the eyes. You must have thought that the same horror would unite the two great religions. But you see for yourself what's happening right now..” He raised his hand and touched his temple. “Holy Land belongs to God, and so much pain. Pain for the sake of pain continues to occur.”

He constantly felt his forehead for a while, then lowered his hand and turned to Layla.

“It's time I prepared for midday worship.”

“Of course,” says Layla. “Thanks for your time.”

“I'm not sure I've helped you.”

“Of course you've helped me,” Layla said. “A lot.” He put his notebook in his bag and threw his bag over his shoulder.

“Forward the writing,” said. “It will make something different.” He smiled and, raising his hand to say goodbye, he turned around and walked away.

“One interesting reality for your article,” the thrill of shouting.

“It turns out, hitler was obsessed with it. William de Relincourt's. He's got an academic team researching the story, trying to figure out what Relincourt found and what happened to that finding. He believed there was some kind of secret weapon he could use against the Jews. That's what this story says. Like I said, de Relincourt attracts all foreigners. I wish you all the best, Miss al-madani.” He nodded towards Layla and, putting his hands behind her back, walked towards Katholicon.