“But it does, my friend. I have many enemies around here—as all men of God do. We try to bring order to the community; order is restrictive; men rebel against it. An enemy must have lied to you.”

“Out of the way, old man!”

Rebekah and her granddaughter heard footsteps, one soft and hesitant, aided by the cane, the other fast and angry, propelled by loss, striding around the sanctuary—into the single room—back into the hall. Voices neared—climbed up the steps—onto the pulpit—came to a stop in front of the ark.

“What’s in here?”

“The holy Torah.”

“Let me see this book of yours,” the eunuch ordered.

The rabbi half-opened the two flaps of the ark to reveal the Torah standing high at the center of the ledge.

The eunuch gauged the size of the Torah. If the scrolls were removed from the wooden casing, Raven could hide in there. “What’s inside?”

“No one is allowed to unlock it.”

“Move. I’ll open it myself.”

The rabbi’s voice became strong, blotting out the quiver of age. “You’ll have to kill me before you touch and defile the Torah, and you’ll never get out alive.”

“Are you insinuating that you will kill me?” The eunuch’s laughter grated against Rebekah’s eardrums.

“No,” the rabbi replied. “The Jews will.”

“Unlock the casing yourself!” the eunuch snickered. “Protect it from the infidel touch.”

The rabbi shrieked, “I cannot! Only the Cohanim, our holy leaders, can touch the scroll. If anyone who has sinned sets eyes on the Torah, he will be struck down.”

Rebekah felt the rush of blood in her temples. She imagined the two men facing each other, one, whose faith in his Holy Book had transformed him into a warrior, the other, a believer of black magic, his soul a fertile ground for terror.

The rabbi’s voice resonated: “If you’ve never sinned, come forward and unlock the casing.”

Rebekah heard the shuffle of the eunuch’s slippers, the labored breathing of the One-Eyed Rabbi. She flattened herself against the walls of the ark, holding tight to one flap of the door, Raven to the other. Would the eunuch dare remove the book from its sanctuary? It was heavy; he would have to struggle under the weight, and in the process fling the doors of the cabinet wide open and discover them there.

Narcissus scratched at the knob, cupped the polished wood in his palm, turned it a notch, paused, as if expecting some admonishment from a Supreme Being.

The doorknob squeaked dryly.

The rabbi’s voice became weak. “You won’t dare.”

Narcissus cleared his throat. “I am the chief eunuch—I’ll do as I please.”

A deep baritone rumbled inside the ark, rising with stupendous force and echoing off the corners of the hall. “Beware of the Lord!”

The rabbi fell down, burying his head between his arms to plug his ears from Jehovah’s wrath.

The eunuch let go of the knob, inching backward, away from the ark.