In which I finally make my escape

Silence has succeeded the roar of the guns, the shouts of combatants, and the clash of weapons. Scenes of slaughter and death have faded away. Yet the fortifications, the moat and the walls, the towers and bastions, have been consecrated by the sacrifice of thousands of human beings, most of them young men, who fell here during successive sieges, great or small, by Arabs, Franks, and Turks.

The visitor is called upon to seek the memories soaking through the stone and show due respect for the hallowed ground.

This was on a sign near where I took this picture—not, alas, a sign accompanied by a map with a handy “You Are Here” arrow, but it was the first sign I'd seen in the park. And this particular section looked a lot like the place where I had walked in, so I thought I had finally reached the end. (Spoiler alert: I had not.)

But what I did see, around the next bend, was a couple walking toward me—the only other people I had seen in the park. They had obviously entered the park from the other end, and that meant that, eventually, there would be an end.

It was maybe ten more minutes before I found it, and having by that point sought more than enough memories soaking through the stone, I showed my due respect by scurrying out and back to the ship.