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thickets of candles and chanting, almost prayerlike, anthems of mourning and of peace. For reasons I couldn’t explain, I felt the need to see the place, near the front of the square, where Rabin had been murdered, by a 25-year-old Orthodox Jew and settlement activist named Yigal Amir. Standing there with Nava, I felt even more strongly what I’d told Leah by phone from New York after hearing Yitzhak was dead: his murder would leave a huge hole — in me, in all Israelis. He was an extraordinary mix of qualities: a brave officer, first in the pre-state Palmach and then the new Israeli army; a chief of staff and defense minister at critical periods in our history. Shy, even at times uncertain or hesitant, and naturally cautious. Decisive, too, when he felt that he, and Israel, needed to be: whether on Entebbe, or the prospect, with all its risks, of launching an operation to kill Saddam Hussein. Humane, too: ready to negotiate with terrorists to save the lives of those they were planning to kill, unless he was confident our soldiers could save them first. Underpinning it all was a dedication to fighting and defeating Isael’s enemies, yet a mindfulness that the real victory, if and when it was possible, would be genuine peace with our neighbors. He and I had had differences over particular policies: leaving our troops in Lebanon, for instance, or more recently the architecture of Oslo. But I never doubted that we were lucky to have Yitzhak leading Israel on the inevitably fraught road to a negotiated peace. I never ceased to believe there was no politician more suited to the role: that he would do everything he could to achieve it, yet would step back if he saw that he was putting Israel’s security at risk. On Sunday evening, Peres called a cabinet meeting in the kirya. He said our task was to continue what Rabin had begun, and that at least for now he would fill Rabin’s shoes not just as Prime Minister but Defense Minister as well. The whole country stood still, shocked, until the state funeral two days after the assassination. It was attended by dozens of leaders from around the world. My role was to escort King Hussein and Queen Noor. On our drive into Jerusalem, we passed the Old City walls. We were barely a mile from the stone terrace, above the Western Wall of our ancient temple, where the golden Dome of the Rock and the Al-Aqsa mosque stand. I knew Hussein had been there as a boy when his grandfather, King Abdullah, was shot and killed by a Palestinian amid rumors he was contemplating peace with Israel. Now, Rabin had been murdered, by an Israeli. “To me, it’s like the closing of a circle,” Hussein said. “Those who are murdered because they are not extreme enough. Because they look for normalcy, and peace.” 280 HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_028128