Soleiman buried his wet face in Gold Dust’s lap, praying his love had brought back the health of her bones. Gold Dust pressed her mouth to his eyes to drink from his tears.

Soleiman removed an object from his pocket and placed it in Gold Dust’s hand. She stared at a bracelet of dried, shriveled fruits. Her cherry anklet.

40

No! No!” Rebekah cried, as if the word would change her daughter’s fate. What happened to the Ancient Zoroastrian’s prophecy? Mattresses stuffed with stinking feathers of fowl were replacing the jewel-encrusted thrones.

Had someone turned the Shah against Gold Dust? Warned him of her obsession with the acrobat? Why else did the Shah refuse to see Gold Dust or herself? She must visit Narcissus. He had access to the most intimate gossip of the palace, even as he remained in hiding, knowing full well that his absence would only delay his inevitable fate.

The eunuch listened to Rebekah. His eyes flashed hope, anger, vengeance. Once he secured the jar with his severed organ, he would be ready for trial and accept his punishment. “I know why the Shah is furious.”

Rebekah slipped closer. “Why, sweetlove?”

Narcissus stepped back. “There’s only one thing in this world you can bribe me with.”

“I know. Your manhood. But if I give it back, and you lie, I’m left with nothing.”

The eunuch opened his cloak, unbuttoned his waistband, and released a cord from around his midriff. Raising the rope, he dangled it in front of Rebekah. “This is priceless. Keep your side of the bargain. When you’re assured of the truth, return it to me.”

Nestled in a vibrant emerald the size of an egg was the likeness of the Shah’s face etched with fine strokes. The stone was precious, so was the splendid carving, the aesthetic toil of many years. Rebekah secured the rope around her neck, lodging the jewel between her breasts. “Don’t go anywhere, Narcissus. Before dusk, I’ll be back with your treasure.”

On her way to the temple of the One-Eyed Rabbi, she removed the sprig of mint and sniffed as if she were the Devil and in pursuit of herself. She resented the fact that, once again, she was forced to invade the rabbi’s peace.

The One-Eyed Rabbi crouched under a window, his feet immersed in a bath of permanganate. With a heated skewer, he seared his corns. The smell of burnt fungus filled the air. At the tapping of feminine footsteps, he focused his good eye at the approaching luminous blur. He groaned. The whore was back.

“I won’t stay long,” Rebekah hastened to assure. “I’ve come to pray and ask forgiveness.”

“Go to the women’s section, maybe Hashem finds pity upon your soul.” The rabbi struggled up the stairs to the ark. His body swayed and his cane tapped as he asked the Lord to pardon his transgressions.