Free The Nature of Blood by Caryl Phillips

the first full moon
    of Spring. In Portobuffole the atmosphere was merry, as many husbands had
    now returned from the Venetian army. The recently arrived men were happy in
    the arms of their loved ones, while those wives who still lived in anxious
    expectation of their husbands' return eventually tore their eyes from the
    streets and found solace in the company of their children. These highly spirited
    Christians were joyfully celebrating the Feast of the Annunciation and looking
    forward to the following day, Palm Sunday.
    The Jews of Portobuffole had gathered in the house of Servadio to begin to celebrate the night of the fourteenth day of the month of Nissan in the year 5240 since the creation of their world. In common with all their holidays, this Jewish celebration began after sunset, with the men and children seated around a large table. In front of each person was a large illustrated Hebrew book of stories, which these Jews read from right to left. The men sat with their heads covered and with their elbows leaning against the table, and they read from their history about the night of the fleeing Jews.
    At this time of the year, Jewish law called for these people to rid their homes of all fermented foods, and, beginning that night and for the next eight days, these Jews could not eat bread or anything leavened, for they were remembering when they had had to flee Egypt so quickly that their bread did not have time to rise. In place of bread, they ate unleavened crackers that had been carefully sheltered from any fermentation or external contamination. These crackers were placed at the centre of the table on a huge tray that also contained a hard-boiled egg, a thin leg of lamb, herbs, a small cup of vinegar, wine, and various other objects necessary to their Jewish rituals.
    For many weeks, Servadio's youngest son had prepared with his tutor to ask in a high and confident voice, and in the Hebrew language, why this night was different from any other. And then suddenly the moment arrived for the boy to ask his first question, and then three further questions, and his mother, and the other women, left the kitchen with damp eyes and came to listen to this small boy who stood in front of the assembly of men. Servadio responded to his son's questions by reading from the Hebrew book of stories, occasionally interrupting his reading to make comments, and then stopping to listen to statements from those more learned than himself. Eventually everybody had a chance first to read from the books and then chant, 'This year, slaves; next year in the land of Israel, free', and the storytelling and chanting continued as the Jewish spirit moved each of them in turn.
    For almost three thousand years the Jews had celebrated this holiday by reciting the same prayers, abstaining from the same foods, and reading the same stories as if reading them for the first time. This was the source of their safety, and the basis of their relative confidence and happiness. They repeatedly told each other about how the waters of the Red Sea were opened for the fleeing slaves and how, immediately after, they closed on the ranks of the Egyptians who followed them. Servadio watched his son carefully, and smiled as he recognized himself in the inquisitive young boy. And then Servadio was shaken from his proud contemplation as the hungry children shouted the last words of a prayer, which was the sign for the food and wine to be served. Jewish songs would continue to be sung and Jewish stories would be joyfully recited, but most would now concentrate upon their feasting and the eager wolfing of Hebrew food.
    The innocent beggar child with blond hair and a sack on his shoulder, who had appeared in Portobuffole at this time of Christian and Jewish festivities, was never seen again. Once Easter had passed, those who thought they had seen him began to talk about him. Those who had definitely not seen him also began to talk about him, and eventually the details