The rabbi resurrected ancient cabalistic formulas from the clues the angel gave him that night. Leaves appeared on the trees, grass turned green, and Passover was coming. The rabbi took two men—a Levite and a Kohen—to the banks of the river, away from the city. There they dug the river clay and molded it into the shape of a man. When they were done, the rabbi incised the sacred word on the forehead of the thing, and the three men followed the formulas the rabbi had unearthed. The figure glowed red, the glow faded, and then, slowly, painfully, a huge gray form rose up out of the mud and stood mute before them in the moonlight.

Rachel’s skin prickled as she read.

Three men had gone to the river, four came back.

They led the golem to the great Altneushul. They took it up the stairs to the shul attic and the other two men left the rabbi alone with the golem.

The rabbi studied his creation. It was huge, superhumanly strong, and mute. It shambled when it moved and seemed to have no mind of its own or capacity for feeling. He decided that the golem was more frightening than the Gentiles. He left it in the attic and spent the next days praying that he would never have to lead it down the narrow stairs.

But on the first night of Passover the Gentiles worked themselves into a frenzy and massed at the ghetto gate. They carried clubs, torches, swords. They killed the gatekeeper, battered down the heavy wood gates, and stormed into the ghetto. They found the Jews in their houses celebrating the first Seder, and they dragged them out into the streets. They beat them and beheaded some and set some on fire.

There was a picture of a wrecked house. It showed the broken door and through it the ruined Seder table. Chairs were overturned, wine glasses broken. The Seder plate lay in pieces on the floor and candles burned in the empty room. Rachel turned the page and kept reading.