“Prayer helped me,” Katrina says finally. “And G-d’s messengers helped me, too.” She pauses. “Is this true for you, that you only helped yourself?”

Leonora reaches up and removes the small tapestry from the wall of the soup kitchen. The pomegranates are still lustrous, but is that a splash of stew on the bottom right-hand corner? She runs her fingertips over it, feels the hardened food detritus in place of silk yarn. She sighs. How is it that children make a mess in the unlikeliest of places? This should have been stored away like the rest of the unknown man’s property: the chest filled with writings was lugged into his bedroom, as were the copper Shabbat candlesticks and the earthenware wine goblet.

Come the evening, Leonora finds it painful to watch her two daughters-in-law feed their children. Ines does not approve, but it is easier for her to go over to the soup kitchen, just two courtyards over. There are always a few children who come in the evening hours, even though the daily meal is served at lunchtime.

There are those who do not make it for lunch, or who are still hungry, or who are sent back for more, or who simply enjoy the coolness of the thick stone walls, who have made friends with the servants who are scrubbing the pots and cleaning the place ready for the morrow. There is usually food left, and the servants are so happy to pour her out a bowl of thick stew. When she eats and tells them how delicious it is, they walk away on wings. It is a good thing for the appetite, to know that she gives them so much pleasure, in tasting their chicken mixed with grains and herbs.

She hears the creak of the wooden door open, but she does not turn; it will surely be another of the servants, come to sweep the floors and rearrange the table and benches. Three children linger at the end of the room, waiting to help with the evening’s chores — in return, they get a pat on the head and permission to skip the line the next day, when the food is doled out.

Then there is someone standing opposite her. She looks up and blinks.

“Why are you holding this when it does not belong to you?”