Chapters (34)
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Family Tree
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-one
- Chapter Twenty-two
- Chapter Twenty-three
- Chapter Twenty-four
- Chapter Twenty-five
- Chapter Twenty-six
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Other Books by This Author
- Copyright
Renard nodded thoughtfully.
“You know my affection for you and your family, Jacob. I am glad of what I did to help you, and I would do it all again. But a marriage goes beyond that. My son loves your daughter as a friend. He will be her friend all his life. But he is also devout. Not all Christians are devout, God knows. But he is. Whoever marries my son will need to be devout. She cannot harbor any doubts.”
“Of course my daughter has no doubts,” Jacob said quickly. “None at all.”
They both knew it was a lie, but that he had to say it.
“We must speak of this again sometime,” the red-haired merchant suggested as he left him. But they both knew that they never would.
“I never thought he was so devout,” remarked Naomi, when her father told her about the conversation.
“Perhaps he isn’t,” said Jacob quietly.
But he was not discouraged. By the end of the summer he had begun serious negotiations with the merchants who had expressed interest before, and two other new candidates also came forward. By the end of September, he was able to present his daughter with as good a set of choices as any girl could reasonably hope for. For her part, Naomi gradually entered into the spirit of the thing. Indeed, by the time he showed her the final list, she’d become quite cheerful, and appeared to find the process amusing.
“I’d like to have a little time now, Father. Two of the choices I hardly know yet. Could I have a month or two?”
“Of course,” he answered with a smile. “Let us decide by Christmas.”
On Tuesday, the eleventh of October, Jacob was down in the Grève market on the riverbank when he happened to see Renard. The two men chatted for a little while. And Renard was just departing when he casually remarked: “Do you remember Aaron, the rabbi’s son?”
“Certainly,” Jacob replied.
“Do you know, I could have sworn I saw him in the street yesterday. I don’t suppose it was him. But if he has sneaked back into Paris, he’d better be careful. He could get arrested.”
Jacob stared at him in horror, but quickly recovered himself.
“I should think it’s unlikely,” he said, with a shake of the head. “He’d be a fool if he did come back.”
But the moment Renard was out of sight, he hurried out of the market at once.
“Where is Naomi?” he cried, as he burst into the house. Sarah told him she’d just returned from a walk with her little brother. “She’s here?” he demanded.
“She went out again. She’s gone to that stall she likes in the rue Saint-Honoré, to buy some ribbon,” her mother replied. “I’m sure she’ll be back soon.”
Then, in low tones, Jacob quickly told her about Aaron.
“Not a word to anyone,” he cautioned. “Nobody must know. Go to the ribbon stall and see if you can find her. Then come back and meet me here.” Meanwhile he went to saddle his horse.