The Ox, the Horn, and the Sheaf

By Meg Duly

The ox, the horn, and the sheaf are symbols of tribes belonging to descendants of the biblical patriarch Jacob. In 723 BCE, Assyria conquered the northern Jewish kingdom of Israel, and at that point, all history of those folks vanished. In her book, Meg theorizes with fictional characters what may have happened to at least two of the lost tribes. We go back and forth in time and meet (also fictional) archaeologists who find clues as to the adventures of our wandering Israelites. We pick up other folks along the way who have vanished from history to weave a tale of adventure and intrigue.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098001421

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The Ox, the Horn, and the Sheaf

Meg Duly

Copyright © 2019 by Meg Duly

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

To my father, Reverend Dr. Harry A. Fifield. My father worked to bring people together across all areas of diversity despite the era of prejudice and bigotry in which he worked. My chosen paths as a wife, mother, clinical social worker, and writer come from his telling me and my brothers we could be anything we wanted to be as long as we took full responsibility for our choices.

Acknowledgment

Ican never thank my mother, Margaret McIntosh Fifield, enough for her gift to me of the love of reading and writing.

I thank my dear friend Dr. Edward M. Gotlieb for his friendship since high school, for allowing me to work for him doing what I dreamed of doing since high school as a social worker, and for the vast bits of information and leads to research, which made this book possible.

Finally, I thank Christian Faith Publishing for their faith in my project.

Prologue

Secular and religious literature agree that sometime between 1050 and 930 BCE, the kingdom of Israel was divided into two kingdoms. The Northern Kingdom remained Israel, containing ten of the original twelve tribes. The Southern Kingdom held the remaining two tribes and became Judah. Both secular and religious literature also agree that in 732 BCE, the Assyrians, led by King Tiglath-Pileser III, attacked Israel and took those Israelite tribes east of the Jordan River into exile. Again, in 723 BCE, the Assyrians under the next king, Shalmaneser, swept the remaining tribes of the Northern Kingdom. At this point, all history of the ten tribes of Israel disappeared into oblivion.

Here, secular and religious historians disagree as to the why of these events. Most serious historians see the ambitious king of Judah, Ahaz, incurring favor with the powerful Assyrian king, thus giving Judah an opportunity to rid itself forever of their annoying cousins to the north. Sacred scripture states that the prophets of old warned of a wrathful God’s vengeance against the wicked Israelite king, Jeroboam, who led his people into pagan worship. Perhaps, just perhaps, both are right.

And perhaps, just perhaps, not all history of those lost tribes disappeared into oblivion.

Part I

The word of Jehovah that came unto Hosea the son of Beeri, in the days of Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah, kings of Judah, and in the days of Jeroboam the son of Joash, king of Israel.

When Jehovah spake at the first by Hosea, Jehovah said unto Hosea, Go, take unto thee a wife of whoredom and children of whoredom; for the land doth commit great whoredom, departing from Jehovah. So he went and took Gomer the daughter of Diblaim; and she conceived, and bare him a son. And Jehovah said unto him, Call his name Jezreel; for yet a little while, and I will avenge the blood of Jezreel upon the house of Jehu, and will cause the kingdom of the house of Israel to cease. And it shall come to pass at that day, that I will break the bow of Israel in the valley of Jezreel. And she conceived again, and bare a daughter. And Jehovah said unto him, Call her name Lo-ruhamah; for I will no more have mercy upon the house of Israel, that I should in any wise pardon them.

—Hosea 1:1–6 (King James Version)

Chapter 1

Edinburgh, Scotland

Hebrew year 5774 (2014 CE)

The long-forgotten passage ran off a tunnel that wound beneath the Royal Mile in Edinburgh. The leader explored many such places before finding this one. The damp, dripping passage stank of sewage and rot. However, it was the perfect place as no one there must ever be seen together, and the tunnel could be accessed from many different buildings above.

The leader got the attention of the recruits who just arrived at this designated area. Nothing about them justified faith in these people, but they were the only ones willingly to take the pledge.

We tried previously to get hold of these artifacts. They represent the pagan Assyrians and the infidel Jews. Now they will be in one place. This will allow us to seize and destroy them. The leader’s voice was soft but menacing. Afterward, we call in our assassin, and the Israeli and his associates die, along with all their confederates. Then there will be nothing left of this blasphemy.

The leader’s eyes wandered above the recruits’ heads while imagining the future. Despite these fools, I will succeed, and I will be honored for my efforts. No matter what, I will succeed. With a sly grin, the leader gave the recruits orders for specific duties and warned them of the severe penalty for failure.

Then, once more, the passageway was dark and deserted.

* * * * *

Oban Airport in southwest Scotland is quiet at 5:00 a.m. The commuters to London and its airports left several hours earlier. Those headed to the big airports in Edinburgh or other Scottish cities would begin arriving in about an hour. This fact made it nearly impossible for Dunc to keep his eyes open. The only sounds he heard were the occasional ringing of the phone and the quiet voice of the woman answering the calls at the check-in counter. Other than that, the small waiting area was quiet.

Dr. Duncan McIntosh slumped down in his seat at the gate. He sat with arms crossed and one foot resting on the opposite knee. This lanky figure made the seat look like that of a child’s. Fortunately, he only had a few more minutes to wait for the plane bearing his colleague and idol, Dr. Jacob Rubin. To keep his weary bones from falling out of the chair, he methodically went over the past week.

McIntosh arrived from Cambridge, Massachusetts, the previous Wednesday. He decided to extend his sabbatical to Scotland by one week so he could spend some time rooting through his own history. Dunc carefully planned his agenda, as he always does. His first stop was to visit the National Trust of Scotland. There he met an old friend from his undergraduate years. William Elder had a great deal of influence through the Scottish Natural Trust. Elder could help Dunc and his associates work with the Trust, vital for their pending archeological project. Dunc spent a full afternoon with Elder dotting i’s and crossing t’s for their dig. He left after a shared Scottish dinner and the understanding of reconnecting in five days.

McIntosh spent those days touring Inverness and every library, museum, and historic site he could access. He ended his weeklong quest back in the company of Elder for a promised visit to Moy Hall, the ancestral home of Chief MacKintosh of MacKintosh.

When Elder picked him up from his bed-and-breakfast, Dunc climbed into the car, in his mind, on the wrong side of the car, on the wrong side of the road.

The chief and Lady MacKintosh are out of the country. However, being a very close friend of the chief, I arranged ahead of time to give you a tour. Lady MacKintosh is a historian herself. She recently updated the history of your clan, which, as I’m sure you are aware, goes all the way back to the twelfth century with the first chief, McDuff. She was delighted to accommodate the famous Dr. McIntosh, Elder explained.

It sure is kind of you to go to all this trouble for me, Will. Dunc ignored the famous Dr. McIntosh statement because it embarrassed him.

I was enormously pleased to hear from you. I didn’t tell you this last week, laddie, but you were actually on my list to correspond with. Will smiled, quite pleased with himself and his good fortune. He explained that he just started his own book.

It is a compilation of famous Scottish MacKintoshes and the American McIntoshes from the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. This is important to me personally, Will said, because Elder is, as you also know, a sept of Clan Mackintosh.

Dunc heard the ego in Will’s voice, remembering his many escapades, pranks, and off-color jokes back in school. Dunc laughed to himself and said, Good heavens, I’m just looking for a little more of my history. What do I have to offer you?

Elder smiled. Dunc, my laddie, you happen to be the famous Dr. Duncan McIntosh of your prestigious Hammond University, who made one of the most valuable Neolithic discoveries in the Americas.

Elder teased Dunc with these accolades because he knew his friend would blush with embarrassments—which he did. Dunc never sought fame. He had a deep love of archeology that began with an inspiring teacher in the sixth grade. He knew then that it would be his life’s work and passion.

Even though he was only thirty-two, McIntosh had amassed many backbreaking hours in study and actual archeological digs. After his postgraduate work, he remained as a consulting professor. All this led up to the dig in the California tar pits. There he found a child’s body that dated almost a thousand years older than any previous find in America. He was sought after for the dig here in Scotland because of the device he developed for working in those tar pits.

I have a deal for you, Will Elder said. If you will tell me about your find in California and then about what you’ll be up to here, I’ll give you a tour of the Moy museum and a copy of Lady MacKintosh’s updated history of Clan MacKintosh.

Dunc couldn’t resist the deal, although he would have to be careful about his current project. Will Elder brought out a tape recorder, the likes of which Dunc hadn’t seen in ten years. Dunc gave so many interviews after his California discovery that he knew what he was going to say by heart. He went into great detail about the California find.

Dunc then cautiously approached his current project. Because of instructions from our funding sources, my university being one, I can’t go into too much detail about this project. I can tell you that we will be working at the Moine Mhor, peat bog near Kilmartin. I will be joined by two other eminently qualified archeologists, Dr. Jacob Rubin from the Archeological Institute in Tel Aviv and Ms. Kathleen Wallace, who is studying at the College of Archeology in Edinburgh. All I can tell you about the project itself is that finds here may give us insight into mysteries of Israel and possibly Scotland. Will, I promise you that when I can talk more, it will be to you.

When they arrived at Moy Hall, the gatehouse, built much like the castles of old, immediately attracted Dunc. Then the long unpaved drive to the MacKintosh residence reminded Dunc of how different, though just as beautiful, the Scottish flora was from that of his Massachusetts home. The evergreens of Scotland made him think of fairy-tale princesses playing hide-and-seek among the lush upturned boughs of the stately British trees.

When he finally stood in front of the elegant massive manor house, he had a quizzical look. After seeing the gatehouse, I was expecting a castle. Why the different architecture?

"I’ve been told that two or three generations back, Himself made a very Scottish decision. It would appear that the ancient castle would cost the clan all its funds to keep it habitable. He therefore tore it down and used the stones to build this lovely home."

Himself?

That is how we refer to our chiefs.

Dunc nodded in amusement as he gazed at the two-story gray-stone manor house. "Yes, how very Scottish of him."

Will explained that the house was the family home, and they did not allow tours of that; however, there was a great deal else to see. They proceeded to tour the grounds. A small flock of sheep could be heard braying in the pasture in front of the manor house. The pasture ran down to the shore of shimmering Loch Moy. In the middle of the small loch was a tiny island overgrown with the lush wildflowers and shrubs of Scotland in their many shades of color. The late chief’s somber grave site, with its marble benches and metal memorial plaque, sat across Loch Moy.

After seeing all this up close, they then walked to the small outbuilding which housed the MacKintosh museum. Approaching the museum, Dunc stood stock-still, wide-eyed and amazed as he viewed the great tree in front of him.

Is that…is that a California redwood?

Yes, it is. Have you heard of the Native American McIntoshes?

Yes, I studied them and met some of this generation…and am even distantly related to them. The ancestor of Chief William McIntosh of the Creek Nation came to Georgia with Oglethorpe. He married a Creek princess. Their son, Chief William, became the Creek chief. He was murdered by the Counsel of Chiefs for some untoward treaty he signed. His son took the tribe to Oklahoma, where they are today. I am descended from that part of the Clan.

Yes, I guess you do know about them. Don’t hold me to this, but I think it was the Creek chief Dode McIntosh, William’s great-grandson, who gave this tree as a sapling to our late chief. The two old heads of tribes were quite good friends. They even died in the same year. Now, shall we go into the museum?

Dunc was eager with anticipation. What hit him first was the smell of ancient wood and fabric with the dust that settled on these relics, most several centuries old. These items spread out into every corner and even up the walls. This included, as Will explained, ancient tapestries from the castle. Their colors muted with age, and even the bed in which Bonnie Prince Charlie slept the night before the Battle of Culloden.

We have several of the beds which the prince supposedly slept in scattered around Scotland. Will laughed.

Dunc laughed as well. In America, our famous beds were slept in by George Washington.

Dunc wandered around the room, daring not to touch the fragile remnants of his family’s past. There were sets of ornate china, vases, century-old photographs, elaborate paintings, and significant documents, all having to do with the heads of Duncan’s ancient clan.

Will, an excellent tour guide, made it through the extensive items before sunset. When they arrived back at his B and B, Dunc climbed out of the car and stuck his hand out to shake with his old friend.

How can I ever thank you for this grand adventure?

"By keeping your promise to tell me all about your upcoming adventure, just as soon as you can. Oh, I almost forgot. Will pulled a wrapped package out of his back seat. I said this was part of the bargain, but actually, it was Lady MacKintosh’s idea for me to secure this for you."

Dunc unwrapped the package. He held a signed copy of Lady MacKintosh’s update of his heritage.

* * * * *

The dull sound of the incoming plane finally moved into Dunc’s conscious mind. Other travelers were beginning to arrive, talking and jostling their luggage. Dunc stood, stretched, and looked out the window. The small plane landed and taxied through the early-morning mist. Dunc watched with quite some excitement to actually be meeting Dr. Rubin in person.

Five people got off the plane. The last to walk down the stairs was a slightly stooped man whom Dunc knew to be in his seventies. A raincoat was draped over the arm that carried an overstuffed valise. His wild white thinning hair and his dark tanned skin made him look like he had been in a desert windstorm rather than an airplane.

Dunc went out to meet him and grasped the outstretched hand of the elder archeologist in both of his. Dunc hoped he wasn’t coming off like a child meeting Mickey Mouse in Disneyland. The warmth and sincerity that emanated from Jacob Rubin soon put the younger man at ease.

I can’t tell you how glad I am to finally meet you, Dr. Rubin.

And I you, young man. For a youngster, you have amassed quite a reputation for yourself, Rubin said with his heavy Israeli accent. Oh, and call me Jacob.

Thank you, Jacob, I will. And I’m just Dunc. How was your trip?

Long, very long. I hate plane changes and their complications. That’s why I always take carry-ons. Rubin held up his valise. I’ve had my equipment sent by the university to the Kilmartin Museum.

Yes, I did the same. Great idea. It saves all that worry over lost valuables, Dunc said and immediately tripped over his own two feet.

Dr. Rubin grabbed his arm. You’ve driven all night, haven’t you?

Dunc nodded.

Well, at least I had the opportunity to doze on the flight. If you haven’t rented us too fancy a vehicle, I think I shall take over motoring.

That would be great. With the way I feel and my not being used to this wrong-side-of-the-road thing, I think this is the best way to proceed.

Duncan wondered what passersby thought of this stooped older man supporting a much younger man. It must look quite amusing.

As the two traveled the relatively straight shot from Oban to Kilmartin, they discussed the upcoming dig.

"Other than showing off your new thingamajig, what has interested you so much about this project, Dunc?" Rubin asked, resting his right elbow on the open window. The sun was just rising over the low hills to the west. The air, though still chilly, felt good to both.

I love archeology, and I love mysteries. Having the two together and possibly solving two of the greatest mysteries in history is like nirvana to me, Dunc said. Working with you and, for that matter, Ms. Wallace is a dream come true. What brings you here other than the obvious Hebraic connection?

It would seem we are both mystery buffs, Jacob said. "I’ve asked questions about the lost tribes of Israel for as long as I can remember. There’s also the fascinating Picts of Scotland and of course, our shields, with all they could mean. Jacob paused a few minutes and reacted to the last part of Dunc’s statement. What do you know of Ms. Wallace?" he asked.

"I know that despite her lack of letters, she is the most knowledgeable archeologist on bogs, Picts, and the area where we will be working. What do you know about her?"

The older man hesitated a brief instant. I know she will be here to find and document more about the aboriginal people of Scotland. If we learn of eighth-century BCE Hebrews here, we may also learn of the Picts of the same time period. I also know that she is a freedom fighter. Her passion is working for the complete separation of Scotland from England. She has been in several demonstrations for her cause and even gone to jail for destroying property and resisting arrest in London.

Dunc furrowed his brow. Is she a freedom fighter or a terrorist?

Jacob laughed ironically. "My parents came to Israel soon after it was established. They fought the British for freedom, and my mother was killed doing so. My wife was killed five years ago by a Palestinian suicide bomber. I guess, depending on whom you talk to, my parents were either freedom fighters or terrorists. Similarly, that Palestinian woman who died with my wife was either a freedom fighter or a terrorist…and depending on whom you might have talked to two hundred and some years ago, the American revolutionists were either freedom fighters or terrorists.

In answer to your question, her misdemeanors don’t quite rank as terrorism, but her fervor just might. And at the same time, she is definitely a freedom fighter. Most importantly, her talents are very necessary to this project. I guess we’ll just have to find out the rest.

Dunc was staring at the man in awe. My God, you’ve been through so much loss. How do you stay sane?

I stopped hating. That’s all—I just stopped hating.

Chapter 2

The tall, slender woman in her midtwenties stepped off the bus in Kilmartin. She had freckles and long curly red hair. Kathleen Wallace searched the crowd for someone who might have come for her. When she saw the young guy in jeans and a T-shirt leaning against the railing, arms crossed, she immediately felt hurt and anger. The eminent doctors think so little of me that they sent their gofer to fetch me to them. She squared her shoulders and walked to her perceived gofer.

"I’m Kathleen Wallace. Have the doctors sent you to pick me up?"

The gofer had a confused look on his face. He stood, backing up a bit. I guess you could say that one of the doctors sent me to meet you.

Which one was so thoughtful? she snapped.

The gofer smiled cautiously and said, Dr. Rubin sent me to bring you to the motel. He is tied up with the National Trust group getting everything ready for the project.

She nodded and looked down. All the fight was gone, and what was left was hurt. She had no right to be rude to this kid. The many times she had been treated this way ran through her mind. Those she would love to call colleagues often treated her as though she existed for the sole purpose of making them tea.

She thought of her family, who had no money; and if they had, they wouldn’t use it to send her to school. She worked so hard to get the education she did have. That PhD seemed light-years away to her. Someday…someday I will be a doctor, sending gofers to pick up underlings.

The gofer stepped forward and stuck out his hand. Ms. Wallace, I’m Dr. Duncan McIntosh. I’m very glad to meet you. Both Jacob and I are so grateful that you agreed to add your considerable talents to our project.

Kathleen’s eyes flew open wide. Och jobby, she said just below a whisper. When she got her wits about her, she closed her mouth and said with her thick Scottish brogue, I’m so sorry…I thought…I…I wasn’t expecting someone so young. Dr. McIntosh, you must think I’m an eejit.

On the contrary, I think I know what’s going on. I get a lot of the same sort of stuff. You’re young too. It seems no one will take us seriously until we get to be about Jacob’s age.

Or make one of the century’s greatest finds, as you just did. I’m sure no one asks you to make them tea anymore.

Dunc laughed. Actually, Jacob asked me to get him coffee this morning. He was terribly stiff after a long flight and driving here from Oban yesterday.

Kathleen had to smile. Once again I’m taking myself way too seriously. She hoped she might be able to redeem herself with gratitude. Dr. McIntosh, thank you for taking me and my work seriously and for having enough faith in me to let me join this project.

"As Jacob said yesterday, you have talents and knowledge this project calls for…and it’s Dunc," he said, emphasizing the name.

Misunderstanding what he said, Kathleen covered her head and cowered close to him. What…what was it?

"Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I didn’t say ‘duck.’ I said Dunc. That’s my name."

She closed her eyes tight, bit her lower lip, and bowed her head, blushing a bright red that almost matched her hair.

He again stuck his hand out and said, I think we need to start this all over. You must be Ms. Wallace. I’m Dunc McIntosh. Jacob Rubin and I are very grateful that you could join us. He would be here but is tied up with the Trust group.

Kathleen looked up at him. He was very kind and funny—and nice-looking in an academic sort of way. She immediately gave herself a mental slap. She had no time or inclination for that sort of thing. She did allow herself a large amount of admiration for him for giving her a way to save face.

She took his hand and said, Kate, please call me Kate. And thank you for coming to pick me up. She then smiled mischievously and continued, "May I buy you a cup of coffee?"

Dunc drove Kate to the tiny Kilmartin motel where they were staying. It’s not Buckingham Palace, but I’ve stayed in a lot worse, he said.

Kate looked around her new home for who knew how long. She assessed her lodging, which smelled of Lysol. It consisted of a single bed, a tiny bathroom, a bedside table, a cane-bottom chair, a dresser with four drawers, and a coatrack with several hangers. It looked as clean as it smelled.

Kate smiled and nodded. A bed and a working loo is all I need. This will do fine. As she placed her only luggage, a backpack, on the table, she and Dunc heard a car pull into the gravel parking lot. They both walked out to greet Dr. Jacob Rubin.

Jacob immediately put her at ease. He took both her hands in his and said, The Scottish Natural Trust is impressed with your work, Ms. Wallace. They are being cooperative because of your noted reverence for the ecology in Scotland. Oh yes, and you too, Dunc, for your new ‘thingamajig.’ They feel that between the two of you, we won’t go about trashing their beautiful countryside. They loaned us a large tent and had it set up by the dig site. It will be invaluable to us both for comfort from the weather and for privacy. The funding universities have given us almost all the requested equipment needed. However, we need to go to the Kilmartin Museum and view the discoveries. I suggest we go there right away and lay out our plan of action.

The museum was a short distance away from the motel. The curator was there to greet them. Two large, quiet men who were local constables accompanied them into the museum. One or the other of them would remain at the entrance twenty-four hours a day. These men made Kate feel secure, considering the inestimable value of the items they were about to see. The three archeologists shared with one another their sense of excitement to actually be getting to work.

Jacob greeted the museum curator as an old friend and introduced him to Kate and Dunc. The curator then led the whole group into a private room. The special lighting there was suitable for viewing ancient artifacts while protecting them from harmful UV rays. The first thing on the agenda: viewing the two major finds, the basis for the whole project.

One was found in Southern Egypt six months prior. A close associate of Jacob’s had notified him and made arrangements for him to study it in Israel. It spoke to Jacob’s enormous prestige in the archeological community for him to be allowed by the Egyptians to take this one item from the dig in Egypt to Israel.

The second find was discovered in the bog outside of Kilmartin over ten years earlier. Locals digging for peat found it. This artifact was stored away in the Kilmartin Museum and all but forgotten by everyone but the curator. When the news from Egypt reached him, the curator got in touch with Jacob. In less than six months, the famous Israeli archeologist put this project together.

Jacob laid out the two heavy round packages, both about three feet in diameter. The packages were clearly marked as to the date and the location where they were found. Jacob carefully and even lovingly unwrapped the two articles and laid them gently on top of their labeled packaging. Dunc and Kate drew closer to inspect the items. They were ancient shields. They were identical except for the one from the nearby bog being darker in color, indicating longtime submersion in the bog water.

Dunc said, The markings around the rims are definitely of the Assyrian Empire.

Jacob and Kate nodded in agreement.

Kate knew what the artifacts were, but seeing them in person nearly made her heart jump out of her chest. Great Scott! To find this one here… She couldn’t finish her statement for the emotions.

Both of the younger archeologists knew in advance they would see these ancient shields, dating to the eighth or ninth century BCE. However, these shields both had markings in the center of them, which, though identical to each other, were unlike any Assyrian marks ever seen by either. Wheat sheaves scratched into the center of the shields with gold painted into the carvings.

Duncan McIntosh looked up at Jacob Rubin. He smiled and said. Beit Yosef.

Rubin smiled back and nodded.

Kate had been very quiet after the three left the museum. These men showed her nothing but respect, but this was something else. Would they lose their respect for her if she said anything? She decided to venture forth anyway.

"I’m not schooled in biblical myths or Hebrew. What is ‘Beit Yosef’?"

Both men looked at her, but Jacob quickly answered, It means ‘House of Joseph.’ Tell me, what is your religious persuasion?

She gasped at his blunt and personal question. What’s that to you? She felt violated.

I want to know how much you know of Bible or Torah stories, Jacob said in an intentionally calm and friendly voice.

Kate settled her anger down, remembering once again the respect shown her. I was raised a Christian, but I don’t remember much of it. As to your question about my religion, I don’t think I have one. I’m fairly antireligion, even atheistic. I can’t find sense in it. I see only war and bigotry with religion. She stared at the floor, waiting for a lecture.

Good, Jacob said, then you will keep us honest. Duncan, my good lad, what is your persuasion?

Once again, Kate was given a chance to save face.

Well…let’s see, Dunc said. I’m a Christian…a Presbyterian preacher’s kid. My father was a good man who did a lot of good for a lot of people and never took credit for it. I guess with him as my guide, I accepted the faith from childhood. As an adult, I’ve questioned a lot but stayed with the Presbyterians because they don’t seem to have a problem with questions. You know how I like to ask questions. Now that you’ve grilled us, it’s your turn, Dr. Rubin.

Yes, I suppose it is. Jacob laughed. "Well, it’s a little different with us Jews. Our religion, race, and history are all wrapped up into one. And yet we come in all different colors, from different locations, and interpret the Torah in many different ways. But we all seem to be one. I don’t hold to all the kosher rules, but I respect them. For that matter, I respect all of yours…your traditions and your doubts and questions. Jacob smiled as he looked around the car. I think what the three of us have in common is that we all have questions."

Jacob then looked at Kate. Tell me what you know of our project.

"I know that there were twelve tribes of Israel, ten of which were exiled by the Assyrians in 723 BCE. All history of those ten stopped at that point. I know that artifacts have been found in Africa and here in Scotland that possibly pertain to those tribes. The one found here was found in an area populated by the ancient Picts of Scotland. We are attempting