* * *
I succeeded in forcing my way inside the Rabbi’s house. What greeted me was chaos.
“What happened here,” I asked. “Is this that monster’s doing?”
“No.” Rabbi Loeb confessed. “This was the Gestapo. The Golem had nothing to do with this.”
“I want my daughter,” I said.
“Of course,” the Rabbi answered, meekly adding: “We must not blame the Golem for this incident. It just got confused, that’s all.”
I gathered my daughter from her resting place. Groggy, she looked up from her sleep and, except for a skinned knee, did not appear harmed in any way. Still, the fact that that filthy thing had touched my daughter hardened my heart against the Rabbi. As I prepared to leave, the Rabbi grabbed my shoulder. I shrugged off his hand.
“You must not blame the Golem, Cohen. It is a force of good. The true name of God animates its actions. It is our protector. The community needs a protector.
The Golem barred my exit.
“Father, the child must not leave. She injured herself outside. It is not safe.”
“It’s all right,” the Rabbi told the creature. “Let them go.”
The Golem, as commanded, let us pass—but I could feel its hate glaring down at me.
Outside in the street, the Rabbi called out to me.
“You’ll see, Cohen, you’ll see. The Golem will keep us safe.”
I refused to listen.
Life in the City Page 10