“Well, Research has the files now and I have asked them to process the material as quickly as possible, however they are rather overloaded at the moment. Malcolm assured me that they would get on them as soon as they can. Meanwhile, you two have earned a few days off. Why don’t you take it easy and I will call you in when the files are finished. If you leave town, don’t go too far away, and pay attention to your cell phones.”
“Levi, may I talk to you in private, please?”
“Ok, Ok, I can take a hint! David responded as he headed out the door.
Levi’s response to the disappearing man was, “And keep that cell phone on, David,” was lost in ethereal space between his office and the hallway to the stairs.
Shaking his head and rolling his eyes, Levi turned to Miriam. “Ok, you’ve got privacy now, what is it?”
“I’m going up to visit my brother in Ein Hod, and I need to use an Office car, please.”
“How is Jacob? So, is he still making pots in that artist Kibbutz?
“He is just fine, Levi. Thank you for asking, and in fact I hear he is in the process of preparing for an exhibition of his pottery in the Chagall Artist’s House in Haifa. Since his wife Sara teaches full time, he asked me if I could help him mount the exhibit. I should be gone only a couple of days, and, yes, I’ll keep in touch. You have Jacob’s number in my personal file, I presume.”
“As long as I can get in touch with you fairly quickly. Just ask Mirtha to give you a requisition for a vehicle from the Office pool, and have a good time — and give my best to your brother. I tried my best to get him to join our work here, you know.”
“Yes, I know, Levi, and that is the reason he won’t set foot in Tel Aviv. Sara says he’s afraid of what you will talk him into the next time. Miriam grinned, kissed the grizzled Marionette on his cheek, and bounded out the office door.
As Miriam drove the Ford Bronco through the Tel Aviv suburbs, a light drizzle began to dot the windshield. Turning on the windshield wipers she thought, I hope this doesn’t keep up all weekend. Turning North onto Coastal Highway #2 she was glad that she had gotten away from the city as early as she did. She relaxed and the miles seemed to pass by quickly, in spite of the rain. Just past Herzliyya, a golden light began to break through the gray sky and the rain stopped. The sun came out fully and bounced off the next road sign announcing the city limits of Netanya. Driving on the city by-pass Miriam couldn’t help remembering the weekend she and David spent in that small beach front hotel just after they finished their training. Surprisingly, she felt a nostalgic tug, but quickly pushed it aside, and kept her mind on the road ahead. Keeping to the speed limit, she was surprised at how many cars flew by her in a flash. Before she knew it, she was driving by one of her favorite places in all of Israel, the ancient city of Caesarea. As a teen-ager she spent a summer on a dig there sponsored by Hebrew University, and could, almost by heart recite the history of the area, pounded into her young head by Professor Hertzell.
Caesarea was believed to have been built on the ruins of an ancient tower, known as Straton’s Tower that was probably an early agricultural storehouse for the King of Sidon. Later, since it was on the coast, a shipbuilding industry flourished during the Hasmonean kingdom. Straton’s Tower remained a Jewish city for two generations, until the Roman conquest of 63 BCE when the Romans declared it an autonomous city.
The pagan city underwent vast changes under Herod the Great, who renamed it Caesarea in honor of the emperor, Caesar. In 22 BCE Herod began construction of a deep sea harbor and built storerooms, markets, wide roads, baths, temples to Rome and Augustus, and imposing public buildings. Every five years the city hosted major sports competitions, gladiator games, and theatrical productions.
Caesarea also flourished during the Byzantine period. In the 3rd century, the Jewish sages exempted the city from Jewish commandments, as by this time the majority of the inhabitants were non-Jewish. The city was then chiefly a commercial centre relying on trade.
The French king, Louis IX, ordered the construction of high walls, the ruins of which she could just make out as she drove by, and a deep moat. However strong the walls were, they could not keep out the Egyptian sultan Baybars, who ordered his troops to scale the walls in several places simultaneously, enabling them to penetrate the city.
Then for years, Caesarea lay in ruins until the settlement of Qisarya was established in the 19th century by Muslim immigrants from Bosnia who built a small fishing village on the ruins of the Crusader fortress on the coast. During the 1948 Arab-Israeli War it was conquered by Jewish forces
With the establishment of Israel, the Rothschild family made an agreement to transfer most of their vast land holdings in this area to the new state. In his will, Edmond James de Rothschild stipulated that this foundation would further education, arts and culture, and welfare in Israel. As she continued along the Coastal Highway, she could just make out the Rothschild estate nestled on a tree-covered hill to her right. She remembered visiting that wonderful estate, as a thank-you, by Baron Rothschild, once during her dig. It was during that party she realized that there were some people that lived in a very different world than her own.
Leaving her university memories behind she began to watch for the turn off to Highway #70. At the stop sign on route #4, she waited until a large semi-truck lumbered by probably on its way to one of the large cities down south. Turning left Miriam accelerated to just above the speed limit and tried to relax, but she was keyed up about seeing her brother and his family. Before she knew it the sign with brightly painted flowers and handsomely lettered Ein Hod flashed by and she slowed for the right turn on the narrow macadam road into her brother’s kibbutz.
The sides of the road were spread with a glorious blanket of with flowers in all colors of the rainbow. What a welcome, she thought. This little village was nettled on a hill covered with cypress trees and flowers — flowers everywhere!
Parking on a paved area labeled Tourists and Busses, on the outskirts of the village she got out of the Bronco and a gentle, fresh wind from the Mediterranean blew across her face. She turned towards the sea, leaned against the warm hood of the bronco and breathed the magical air deeply several times before walking up the rough stone path into the village. Several villagers nodded to her without saying a word. Had it been that long since she had walked these steps up to her brother’s house? Was she already a forgotten family member or even just another tourist here to wander from gallery to gallery looking for something on sale? Up a short alley behind the amphitheater, she entered a stone arched structure with a long tile sign that read 
She knew the sign translated into English was “Golden hands & Black Coffee” and because her brother painted that sign he free coffee any time he wanted it. As she entered the small building, a shout of “MIRIAM,” came from behind the small bar, “Where in the world have you been? It’s been ages since you graced our fair community.”
“Avi, It’s good to see you. How is Baraq?”
“I am fat and sassy and my bolt of lightning is running around loose somewhere, I don’t know, but you can be sure he will flash in here as soon as he hears that you are back in town. Are you going to be here long? Isn’t it time you settled down and got pregnant like the rest of us cows.”
Sitting at the bar Miriam giggled. “No, my leash is only as long as a couple of days, and I haven’t found anyone worthy of my fabled loins, since you ask. How about pouring me one of those hideous beers you and Baraq make out in the back alley somewhere.”