“Where were you during the Amidah, Benyamin Ben-Akiva? Poor Avrom Khayim had to cover both services, running between the Klaus and the Old-New Shuls. He’s getting too old for that.”
I did my best to explain the situation without running out of breath.
Dishes clattered in the kitchen as the everyday plates were put away and the special kosher-for-Pesach set was brought out.
Rabbi Gans groaned “Oy, gvalt!” and covered his ears and rocked from side to side as if he were hearing of an earthquake, a flood, a punishing deluge of fire and hailstones.
Rabbi Isaac’s shoulders slumped forward as if a piece of the heavens had just landed on them.
Rabbi Loew grabbed a fistful of his robe and yanked at it until he split the seam and ripped out a good six inches.
Yankev ben Khayim clutched at his own robe and worked at it till he tore a piece loose.
Rabbi Loew lowered his head and said, “Borukh dayan ha-emes.” Blessed is the true Judge.
Yankev ben Khayim did the same, imitating his master in every detail like a true disciple.
Rabbi Loew said, “Listen to me, Rabbi Gans. I need you to gather sheets of parchment, take up your quill, and begin a chronicle of these events.”
“Why is that so important now, Rabbi?” asked young Lipmann.
Rabbi Loew said, “Who do you want to write this story—the Christians?”
Gans sharpened his nib with a short knife.
Yankev ben Khayim lit a couple of candles, and sat next to Isaac Ha-Kohen. The two of them began rocking rhythmically back and forth, murmuring ancient prayers as they set out on the long, slow voyage toward a state of near-ecstasy that would allow them to receive the energy flowing from the divine emanations of righteousness and mercy.
“Yes, you men begin the tfiles,” said Rabbi Loew. “If we assail the gates of heaven with our tears, God willing, they may open for us. In the meantime, perhaps we can buy the goyim off before this turns into another dreadful blood—”
Rabbi Loew stopped suddenly. I followed his gaze. The rabbi’s granddaughter Eva was standing in the doorway, holding a long feather. She was about twelve years old. Not much older than the victim.
She said, “I’m here to dust the books, zeyde.”
Rabbi Loew said, “You’re a big girl, Havele, but you still need help dusting all these books.”
“I can do it myself, Grandaddy.”
Eva Kohen had dark curly hair and bright eyes, and something passed across young Lipmann’s face when she came into the room, though she may not have been aware of it.
“Very well, my little jewel,” said Rabbi Loew. He resumed his discourse, leaving out the references to blood. “As I was saying, we are dealing with people who don’t just tell lies, they tell so many lies that they build a parallel world out of their lies, and in that world, those lies are true. For such people, it’s not what is, it’s what they happen to believe. For surely we have learned that even if all the words of slander directed against us are not accepted as true, half of them are accepted.”
He turned and quizzed his grandchild: “Eva, can you tell me where that citation is from?”
Eva repeated the words to herself, and said, “Is it the Breyshis Raboh?” The great commentary on Breyshis, In the Beginning, which the Christians call Genesis.
“That’s my girl,” he said, giving her a loving squeeze.
She was a smart girl, all right.
Rabbi Gans opened the pot of ink, dipped in the nib, and began to anoint the blank pages with the majestic block letters of the Hebrew alef-beys.
Isaac Ha-Kohen and Yankev ben Khayim kept up their soft chanting, but they needed more voices, more prayers pounding on the unyielding gates of heaven.
Rabbi Loew stroked his beard and considered a moment. Finally, he asked a question: “Benyamin Ben-Akiva, are you schooled in the Kabbalah?”
“My knowledge of Kabbalah is like a page that has fallen out of an old book. But I know something of the Law.”
“Good. Come with me, then. We need to build a legal case that will convince the emperor to intervene on our behalf before Federn confesses.”
“Confesses? He hasn’t done anything.”
Isaac Ha-Kohen shook his head and gave me a shows-what-you-know look without losing his place in the prayers.
Rabbi Loew said, “A man will admit to anything after three days of torture.”
I shuddered at the thought. I’d been made to stand thigh-deep in snow until icy needles pierced my thickest flesh; I’d been