By the time Jacob was starting to earn a living, things had seemed to be getting a little better. The grandson of saintly King Louis—tall, blond, Philip the Fair—had come to the throne. He claimed to be pious, but he always needed money.

“Finance my debts,” he told the Jews of France, “and I’ll protect you from the Inquisition.”

Jacob’s house had been in the rue des Rosiers. It was a pleasant street under the northeastern corner of the city wall. His business was prospering. He was about to get married. It had seemed that fate was smiling upon him.

Strangely enough, the first sign of trouble had come from the king of England. For the mighty Plantagenets had not been driven from all of France. They still held the rich lands of Gascony, in old Aquitaine. And in 1287, the English king had decided to kick all the Jews out of Gascony. By any standards, this was a distressing event. But at the time it had happened, Jacob had been busy making the arrangements for his wedding day. And besides, he need not concern himself too much with the follies of France’s enemy, the Plantagenet king of England.

The next year had been one of family loss. Sarah had given birth to a baby boy, but it was clear at once that the baby was sickly, and it was not a shock that it did not last a month. A few months after that, Jacob’s mother had died, very peacefully, and no one was surprised when his father, who was quite lost without her, had followed her before the year was out.

As a result of these changes, Jacob had suddenly found himself both head of the family, and still childless. He’d felt strangely lonely.

But then, a twelvemonth later, his little Naomi had been born. From the day of her birth, she’d been a strong baby. He’d been overjoyed. She’d continued to thrive. He was sorry that his parents had not been there to see it, but he faced the future with happiness, and hope.

Once, just once during those years, there had been a brief reminder that in the medieval world, the dangers of hysteria were never absent.

One Easter in Paris, a Jew he knew slightly, not an especially pleasant fellow, was suddenly arrested. The crime of which he was accused was serious, however, for he was accused of desecrating the Host.