Page 74 of The Secret of Secrets (Robert Langdon #6)

In the midst of Prague’s ritzy retail district, a small plot of earth stands untouched, encircled by a stone fortification. For five centuries, this sacred ground had been a somber chronicle to the intolerance of humankind.

The Old Jewish Cemetery, The Golěm thought as he stepped through the gate into the mossy, tree-dotted sanctuary.

The ghostly landscape before him was packed wall to wall with headstones—more than twelve thousand of them in this tiny space.

The ancient tombstones were crowded in so tightly that many were touching one another…

pitched over in all directions. The scene looked more like a storage area for headstones than any kind of sacred burial ground.

Incredibly, there were over one hundred thousand bodies buried in this three-acre plot of land.

Jews in fifteenth-century Prague were relegated to the peripheries of societal acceptance and cordoned off into their own ghetto.

When they needed to bury their dead, as was Jewish custom, those in power allotted them only a very small piece of land to do so.

Because Jewish custom forbade the exhumation of a buried body, when space in the cemetery was at capacity, the Jewish leaders merely brought in a new layer of earth, building it over the original graveyard and moving the existing tombstones up to the new ground level.

This process was repeated many times over the centuries, each time resulting in a new layer of bodies and a new group of tombstones.

In some places, the bodies were buried twelve deep, and without its retaining walls, it was said the Old Cemetery would have long ago spilled out into the surrounding streets, strewing five centuries of bones in all directions.

As he moved into the graveyard, The Golěm stopped at the large wooden box and selected a kippa —the traditional Jewish “dome” or skullcap worn by cemetery visitors as a symbol of humility and reverence.

He lowered the hood of his cloak and placed the kippa on his clay-caked skull, ignoring the glances and whispers of the handful of visitors nearby.

He could understand how his presence here in costume might be perceived as disrespectful, but in fact he felt only respect for this sacred place…

and for the rabbi who had created the first of his kind.

Advancing with deliberation, The Golěm navigated the chaotic clutter of tombstones, careful not to slip on the mossy cobblestone pathway. Moving toward the fringes of the cemetery and the western wall, The Golěm made his way to the tomb of Rabbi Loew.

The rabbi’s gravestone stood almost two meters tall and was ornately decorated with the symbol of a lion, attesting to Rabbi Loew’s surname—“Low” or “Lion.” The narrow ledge across the top of the monument was littered with dozens of tiny, folded slips of paper on which prayers had been written and left behind by visitors.

Those who didn’t have paper had left pebbles, in keeping with Jewish tradition.

Alone before the elegant tomb, The Golěm reverently knelt on the cold ground and opened his mind to the unseen connections of the universe…the unity of souls that so many failed to perceive…and refused to believe.

We are as one.

Separation is an illusion.

Minutes passed, and The Golěm could feel himself absorbing power from this mystical place. Slowly, he began to feel a growing presence, and the strength of the original golem flowed up through the earth and filled his soul.