“He’s just a puppet,” said Jacob.

“Then listen to the most extraordinary news of all. The new pope is not going to live in Rome.”

“Not at the Vatican?”

“He won’t even be crowned in Rome. They’ll do it in Burgundy. After that he’s moving the papal court to Poitiers, right here in the domains of the King of France. There is talk of his moving down to Avignon in a year or two, but not to Rome. As of today, King Philip of France owns the papacy.”

He left them soon afterward to spread the news. When he had gone, Jacob shook his head.

“In time of danger, popes have sometimes left Rome before,” he remarked, “but this … I don’t know what to say.”

Sarah’s face was a mask.

Then Naomi spoke.

“I am not surprised at all.” She looked steadily at her father. “The Church is corrupt. You have told me so yourself. I don’t think the Church has anything to do with God at all. In fact, it disgusts me.”

“Don’t speak to your father like that,” said Sarah sharply.

But Jacob was not angry. He was grieved.

“You must be careful what you say, Naomi,” he said quietly. “Such words are dangerous. And for a convert, they are more than dangerous.”

“I am not a convert,” Naomi cried bitterly. “It was you who made me a Christian.”

“But you are a Christian now. No one, not even a servant in this house, must hear you say such a thing. It could place us all in great danger.”

Naomi was silent for a moment.

“I will say nothing,” she answered. “But now you know what I think, Father, and that will never change.” Then she went out of the room.

What could he do? There was nothing he could do. He understood her feelings. In many ways he shared them. She was shocked at the corruption. So was he.

And she was young. By the time she reached his age, she might accept that the best to be hoped for were small adjustments to an imperfect world. But for the time being, her mind was made up, and he must respect it.

He was grateful also that she kept her promise not to reveal her feelings. She went about her daily business, helping her mother, in her usual quiet and cheerful way. She accompanied her family to church without complaint. She still joined him when he told stories to little Jacob, and she even started to teach the child to read and write herself. He would have preferred to reserve this task for himself, but he was pleased if it gave her an occupation, especially in the dark winter months.

For her greatest pleasure was to go out. She took little Jacob for a walk each day. Whenever her father went out to his orchard, she would always gladly accompany him. She would walk across to the Île de la Cité and light a candle in Notre Dame. And since these visits appeared to the world as acts of religious devotion, her father did not discourage them.