not even touch her clothes.”
That wasn’t in the decree.
“How are we supposed to do this without even touching her clothes?” I asked.
Then a woman’s voice cut through the din.
“Why don’t you let me touch her?”
All heads turned toward a tall woman with long dark braids pushing to the front of the crowd. It was Meisel’s Shabbes maid, Anya. The death threats shrunk to low hisses and murmurs, and the room became eerily quiet as she stepped forward.
It made sense that a butcher’s daughter wouldn’t be terribly squeamish about handling bloody flesh, but I didn’t know where she got the courage to stand in the middle of the room like that with all eyes upon her.
How did she find us? Presumably, word had spread rather quickly about the city guards escorting three foolhardy Jews through the center of the Old Town. But what ever the reason, she was a godsend, because a Christian like her is not susceptible to the ritual uncleanliness imparted by a corpse, nor could she transfer it to us through any form of contact.
“What do you say to this?” asked Zizka. “Will you allow this woman to assist you in your examination?”
“Why shouldn’t we accept her offer?” said Rabbi Loew. “Women can be quite practical at times.”
He was probably just trying to put the crowd at ease by expressing some kind of common sentiment that made us appear more human in their eyes.
“All right, all right, just get on with it,” said Zizka.
“First of all, you’re going to need more light,” said Anya, reaching for a standing candelabra over by the wall. A guard seized it from her and planted it near the head of the table so roughly that one of the candles tumbled to the floor. Anya stepped on the flame and put it out. Then she picked up the candle, touched its smoking wick to another candle’s flame, and fit it back into its socket.
Who else among those present would have known that the Jews cannot handle fire on Shabbes? Surely this young woman’s place in Heaven was assured.
“Now, let’s see what this speechless little girl can tell us,” said Rabbi Loew. Then, barely above a whisper, he asked me, “What was her name again?”
“Gerta,” I said. As if I could ever forget the name that roused me shivering from my bed on Erev Shabbes.
“Don’t worry, Gerta,” he said tenderly to the pale corpse. “We won’t harm you. Do you hear me, Gerta? We won’t even touch you. Your hair won’t even tremble from our breath.”
The cluster of curious faces in the doorway bobbled around as the forces behind them jostled for a better view. Rabbi Loew waved his fingers, beckoning Anya to come closer.
Like it or not, we had an audience closely scrutinizing every move we made, every gesture, every utterance. But Rabbi Loew knew how to hold an audience as well as any preacher in the kingdom.
He took a moment to address them. “My friends, you all know me to be a righteous man who spends his days delving beneath the outer garments of the Torah to uncover the truths that lie there. So you understand that we should have no trouble applying this process to the far flimsier garments with which ordinary men clothe their lies.”
There was movement among the gaping mouths in the doorway, and some heads began to nod.
In hushed tones, Rabbi Loew instructed Anya to undo the top button of the girl’s shift. Anya did as he requested, then she spread the fabric apart, revealing the long, jagged gash running across the victim’s neck.
A shiver of revulsion rippled through the crowd so palpably that a bit of it went rolling through me as well.
I leaned in to get a closer look at this gory trench cutting through the girl’s soft flesh like the deep red line dividing the land of the living from the land of the dead.
“Very strong and savage,” said Rabbi Loew. “And yet, oddly hesitant. They appear to have made several tries.”
“Not the easiest way to get it done,” said Anya.
We waited for her to expand on this, but she seemed a bit uncomfortable with her public role as the expert on butchery.
“Please explain what you think that means, no matter how unpleasant it may be,” I said, stepping closer to her side.
“It means that whoever did this may have been as savage as the rabbi said, but he wasn’t very good with a short-bladed knife.”
“And what can be deduced from this?” Rabbi Loew asked