Aisha bursts out, “But you are a girl. How do you know how to read and write? The Hebrew tongue, no less”

The place is covered in dust and when Leonora enters, she coughs again and again, unable to dislodge the tickle at the back of her throat. She walks over to the window and throws open the shutters. Sunlight floods in. She looks around.

A small wooden table with four chairs, two of them slightly askew, as if someone had just stood up and walked out of the room. A small tapestry hangs on the wall. Leonora steps closer to examine it. Pomegranates of scarlet, purple, and blue are entwined with golden bells. The dust mars the piece’s beauty, and Leonora calls for a damp linen cloth. One of her servants passes it to her and she wipes the tapestry clean.

Now she sees how the bells are sewn through with gold thread and admires the intricacy of the stitching. Pomegranates and bells. The priestly garments. The chime of a bell, announcing someone’s arrival. The silence of a pomegranate; the surprise of cracking open the leathery skin to reveal hundreds of juicy jewels hidden away. Reveal, conceal.

She looks further around the room. What does it say about the owner? And what will remain hidden from view? Her curiosity has been ignited by the unusual tapestry.

In the corner of the room is a small oak chest. Leonora tests the lid — it is unlocked. She pushes it open and sees a collection of small scrolls, and small pieces of parchment. She opens one up. The handwriting is close and cramped, and it is hard to decipher the words. But she holds it up close to her eyes and reads.