The eunuch stared down at a heap of flesh stuffed in a wheelbarrow. An emaciated man who seemed on the verge of abdicating his last breath lugged the wheelbarrow. An acidic smell rose from the woman as she struggled to control a phlegmy cough that shook her bloated folds.

Narcissus checked her suspiciously. “Where’s Rebekah the whore?”

The emaciated man unfastened the leather straps from his waist and collapsed on the ground. “Heshmat,” he pleaded. “Let’s mind our own misery.”

“Shut up or I’ll cut off your tongue,” the matchmaker shrieked, turning to the eunuch, a sudden smile contorting her face. “Respectful Agha, my husband is a simple man; he doesn’t understand. I, on the other hand, am Heshmat the Matchmaker. I’m the glue between men and women, familiar with the mysterious labyrinths of love.” She lowered her voice. “Many years ago, I thought of marrying Rebekah’s daughter to a respectable butcher, but I decided she was destined for a better life. I was right.”

Hugging her ankle in his bony clutch, her husband groaned, “Please, Heshmat, don’t sell your own people to goyim.”

Narcissus fished into the pockets of his pants and presented a fistful of sovereigns. “Tell the truth. You’ll get more.”

The matchmaker snatched the coins and stuffed them under the folds of her stomach. “Take the alley on your right. At the end, you’ll find the synagogue of the One-Eyed Rabbi. Moses protect your every step.”

Rebekah heard raging curses, violent hooves, neighing horse. She slipped the jar of brine in her pocket and hurried into the main sanctuary. Her fingers locked around Raven’s wrist, feeling the pounding of her pulse. “Calm down, child.”

An impish smile leaped on Raven’s lips. “You be calm, Grandmadar.”

The clatter of hooves came to a halt at the door. Rebekah heard the shake of the horse’s bridle and knew that the eunuch had dismounted. She started up the stairs of the pulpit toward the ark and opened the double doors. Raven climbed the ark and flanked one side of the Holy Book; Rebekah huddled on the other side and brought the screens together.

The eunuch’s holler advanced as he ran into the synagogue and approached the pulpit. “Rebekah! Give back what is mine and you’re free.”

The commotion brought a pleasing wetness under Raven’s tongue, calmed the thirst that had overwhelmed her since her father’s departure. She pressed one ear to the partition. The tap, tapping of a cane on the stony floors punctuated the eunuch’s shouts.

The voice of the One-Eyed Rabbi struggled through his weak lungs. “You are in the house of God. Do not mention the name of whores.”

“You have given sanctuary to one, old man,” Narcissus cried out. “Now you cringe at the mention of her name?”

The cane pounded the floor. “Who gave you this blasphemous information?”

Rebekah smiled. Maybe, after all, she had found God in a glass-eyed rabbi.

“That does not matter,” the eunuch squealed.