The papyrus is stiff and unyielding, brown with age, roughly the same size as a sheet of modern letter paper. The text is clear and precise, several rows of careful Hebrew characters of the square type, as neat and regular as the lettering in a modern printed Hebrew Bible, minus the vowel markings. The sheet seems to contain a complete text, although several holes in the bottom half of the papyrus have obliterated some of the letters and rendered the text lacunulose. Nonetheless, the great majority of what was written there is still legible.
Sam peers closely at the lettering. "You know, I took Dr. Rothermere's class on paleography last year," they say. "We looked at Hebrew manuscripts. I'd say that, on paleographic grounds, this manuscript dates to the late first century."
"I think that's right," you say. "Maybe around AD 70."
Sam immediately recognizes the significance of the date; their eyes meet yours.
"Is that significant?" asks Abdul.
You nod emphatically. "The destruction of the Temple. In AD 70, the Jews were in the middle of a rebellion; they were trying to kick the Romans out of their country. But it didn't go well for them. The Roman army destroyed Jerusalem, and the ancient temple that once stood on the Temple Mount."
"Can that help us understand why the Nazis want this so badly?" asks Esme. "Even if this does date to the time of the destruction, why would Hitler care about a long-vanished Jewish temple?"
"Treasure," says Sam, anticipating your own response. "The Jerusalem Temple was packed with priceless sacred treasures. We have literary sources telling us that some of those treasures got brought back to Rome by the army, but not all of them are accounted for. Folk have often suspected that somebody might have smuggled some of the sacred objects out of the Temple during the siege and hidden them somewhere the Romans wouldn't find them."
Esme looks thoughtful. "Right, I see. It's a possibility. Can you get anything else out of this manuscript?"