first together, once upon a time, how our attraction for each other was so strong, our passion so exhilarating that we felt like it could surmount any obstacle, as if no one had ever made love before us, as if the complete history of the world were leading up to that one moment of divine coupling. It reminded me how every dip and curve of her body was shaped by the same hand that completed the circuit of this great globe of ours and set the heavens spinning, how the downy fuzz on her lower back looked like precious golden threads in the morning light, and how I’d give anything to get a second chance to go back and live those days all over again, knowing what I know now, and not mess up quite so badly this time.
But this was not the moment to indulge in the luxury of frivolous thoughts—or at least what any self-respecting knight in the romance tales would consider frivolous. But what do those idiots know? Courtly love. Ha.
By the time I was back on the street again, merchants and beggars alike had already dropped what they were doing and were heading for the baths. All around me, Jews were hugging each other and asking forgiveness for any wrongs they may have committed during the week. Nobody hugged me or begged my forgiveness, but we wished each other a gutn Shabbes as I made my way back to the East Gate.
I peered through the opening. The German preacher was still perched on that barrel—the fellow had stamina, I’ll give him that—only now he was praying for the Jews to see the light and free ourselves from our captivity to the Devil. All we had to do was let Jesus into our hearts, and everything would go swimmingly for us from that point on, on earth and in heaven. He made it all sound so simple. Maybe it is simpler for them, I thought, since most Christians don’t know what it’s like to live in constant fear of having their bones ground up into piecrust like a character in one of those horrible English revenge tragedies.
I thought I caught a glimpse of the imperial guards coming to protect the perimeter of the ghetto and I took heart for a moment, then felt it change to a sick tugging in my kishkes when I saw that it was only the municipal guards bearing an order to conduct a house-to-house search for “clues” and to inventory the contents of the ghetto.
One of the scavengers outside the gates, his hands blackened with soot, complained that the guards would get the best pickings. The sergeant turned, still clutching the order in his mailed fist, and said, “Don’t worry, that Jewish gold isn’t going anywhere soon. It’ll still be there Sunday night.”
Some of them laughed, although coming from them it sounded more like the cackling of a flock of vultures waiting for a suffering animal to breathe its last.
“What are you talking about?” I said. “The Sheriff told us we had three days to solve this bloodcrime.”
“You weren’t told you had three days, Jew. You were told you had till Monday morning, and I have it on high authority that the Jewish Monday begins at sundown on Easter Sunday. Now let us in.”
CHAPTER 15
“SINCE WHEN HAVE THEY PAID attention to the Jewish calendar?” Yankev ben Khayim whispered hotly in my ear.
“Since it served their purposes.”
“Somebody must have blabbed.”
“Don’t start making accusations. The goyim all know that our days end at sundown.” In Hebrew, the hour of twilight is called the beyn ha-sh’moshes, the moment between the suns.
“Shhhhh!” Somebody shushed us.
The services were starting. I was leaning on the west pillar, facing the holy ark. I straightened up as the shul’s upper shammes, Abraham Ben-Zakhariah, got up on the bimeh and began reciting the Ashrey prayer.
“Ashrey yoyshvey veysekho—” Praiseworthy are those who dwell in Your house.
I joined in the prayer, which normally calls upon us to lay aside all earthly concerns for the next twenty-four hours and to open our souls to God’s tremendous majesty. But today we were also celebrating the first days of Pesach. Anyway, I tried. I didn’t rush over the Hebrew words as if they were meaningless syllables to get through, like people sometimes do. I pronounced each word clearly, letting the cadences of the holy tongue clear my thoughts of the everyday Yiddish of the street.
But it was hard to draw a curtain between the weekday world