This concerns the pious ones who were burned.

The heart grows faint in telling it, and the hands grow weak in writing down all the calamities of the people. The souls of our people cannot contain them. Who has the strength to write this tale of suffering without his heart breaking? Even when one heard it from another, both his ears rang, his courage fled and his senses failed. How much more, then, can we, whose hearts are grieved, tell our sorrow without our lips closing, or write it down without growing weak? Yet it is done by command of the leader, by command of our teacher Rabbi Jacob, from whom we may not withdraw.

We, the community of Orléans, should have brought a calf as an offering. Instead, we ourselves stood in its place. For because of our transgressions and sins, all this came upon us, and the Lord was sanctified through those who were close to Him.

Since the time when He gave His people over to plunder and caused our sanctuary to blaze in fire, no burnt offerings as holy as these have ascended. Angels of God rose up in the flames. Burning, they stood before Him, those who were led out at the command of the oppressor to be burned.

The enemies said, “Let us call them and urge them to exchange their faith for ours.” But they answered, “No. We cleave to our God, the God of Israel. Him we worship with all our heart and all our soul.”

When they were led out, they strengthened one another so that none of them would lose courage. One said to another, “Should we shrink back before this fire? Were we not chosen for this day?” And as they walked, they said, “Let us guard ourselves so that our hearts are not led astray. Be brave, and let us be strong in reverence for our Creator, so that our death may be an atonement for all our sins.”

Thus they were the atonement offerings and guilt offerings of the community. Through them, all Israel was reconciled. They offered themselves in holiness as a fire offering to the Eternal, as the food offering of their God, and the Eternal received them favorably on Wednesday, the twentieth day of the month of Sivan, in the year 4931 from the creation of the world. This day deserves to be established as a fast day for all the children of our people, and the importance of this fast should be greater than the Fast of Gedaliah, for it is a day of atonement.

They were beaten and wounded, yet the more they were tormented with wounds and blows, the more their spirit strengthened and grew firm in love for the name of the Eternal, in remaining holy to Him and in following Him completely.

Woe to us, how hot that day became! In the morning the fire was lit. When the flame rose up, they sang as with one voice and lifted their voices melodiously. People from among the townsfolk came and told us, saying, “What song of yours is this, that has such a melody? We have never heard so beautiful a melody.”

The song began in a low tone, and then they raised their voices in a high tone and sang together: “It is upon us to praise the Lord of all,” and so forth, while the fire blazed around them.

Two priests among them were bound to a pillar. They called out to the servants of the wicked Theobald and said, “See how we stand in the fire and it has no power over us!” They replied, “Then come out!” Rabbi Judah bar Aaron freed his hands and also the bound hands of his companions, and they said, “Let us go out. If they kill us, we shall die; if they let us live, we shall live.”

The three came out. Then the enemies fell upon them and struck them so violently that these holy ones died there before the Eternal, without having brought any worthless word over their lips. They remained steadfast in their virtue from beginning to end. Then they were thrown into the fire, and the coals were heaped over them. Even so, they were not burned.

These events were told to us by our townsfolk and acquaintances who were present there at the deed. And even if we had not wished to believe their testimony, the priest Baruch bar David was also there at the time of the burning and saw and heard it himself. Only the burning itself he did not watch, lest he be seized by the crowd that had gathered there outside the city at the place of burning. Later, when the tumult of the people had quieted and the burning had ended, he fled that same day and escaped to Orléans.

The cause of the disaster was this: On Thursday, that unfortunate day, toward evening at twilight, Isaac bar Eleazar of Blois came to water his horse at the river. He carried on his chest a green hide that he had taken from the house of a townsman. A corner of the hide, in French peau, came loose and hung out from his outer garment.

A servant came up, also to water his horse. When the servant’s horse saw the pale appearance of the hide, it sprang back and could not be brought to the water. The servant kept silent and said nothing until he came to his lord. Then he said, “Do you know that I encountered a Jew in your territory who threw a dead child into the water? It was dark, my horse shied and ran off. It carried me away and would not drink.”

His lord said to him, “Keep silent about this. I have waited for this day! For the Jewess said such and such to me, and I will do such and such against her. As she harmed me, now I will harm her.”

She had been harsh toward her townspeople. Relying firmly on the favor of the ruler, she acted severely with all who came to her. The ruler loved her, and therefore the ruler’s wife and her nurse were also hostile to her. When they noticed that she no longer stood with the ruler as she had yesterday and the day before, her townspeople sought to devise evil against her.

She was seized, but not bound in chains. Rather, in the tower where she was imprisoned with the whole community, she was allowed to move about freely and could present whatever she had to say. But she was not permitted to speak with the ruler himself, although she had hoped for this, for she could not believe that the heart of the ruler, who until then had loved her so greatly, had now turned against her for evil.

The ruler was indeed considering many thoughts about what he should do. Then Satan appeared in their midst: a monk of the Augustinians, may his name be erased and his memory destroyed. He advised the ordeal, namely that the wicked servant who had seen Rabbi Isaac be brought into the water and tested with holy water. If he sank, then he had spoken falsely; but if he floated, then his testimony against the Jews was true, and they should be punished.

They immediately listened to his words. Thus the disaster was hastened by the monk mentioned above. At first the ruler tried to impose a monetary penalty and commanded the priest Baruch bar David and Rabbi Isaac bar Judah, who had interceded with him on behalf of the Jews, to ask them what ransom they intended to give. They went and brought back the answer to the ruler: “They will give one hundred pounds. Here are one hundred and eighty pounds; is that enough for you?”

When he heard this, his anger burned, and he ceased speaking further with them. Since his anger was kindled and he no longer paid attention to them, he turned only to the monk and did exactly as he had ordered.

They brought the impure man, the servant, into the water. They acquitted the guilty one and declared the righteous guilty, and they wickedly burned the exalted pious ones. Yet only their breath of life was burned; their bodies remained unharmed. All the Christians also testify that their bodies were not burned. They say that only the enemies of the Jews burned the bodies, and their words appear credible, since they themselves testified this in their hostility.

The community in Loches had reported, before this suffering came, that it had happily escaped danger and that only the informer was being held. I, Baruch bar Meir, will make known to you how the story happened.

A young man from Loches desired a maiden and sought her from her father and relatives. But they answered him, “We would rather throw her into the water than join her to you.” Then the young man came deceitfully and betrothed the girl to himself before witnesses. Afterward he went to her father and said, “Now we are joined to one another even without your consent!” The father answered, “This wickedness that you have done will not benefit you.”

Then the young man went before the prince and brought slanders against them, and they were seized. They were, thank God, released again, but he, the slanderer, has not yet been released.

We do not know whether this trouble, because of the slander, God forbid, brought them into such evil repute or not. Those who were burned in Blois were not buried, because of our many sins. There was only a hollow at the place of burning, and there, by command of the ruler, they were covered with earth and stones.

We have heard that the ruler was angry at the people who threw many pieces of wood and sticks at those running from the fire, so that they were killed.

At the close of all the words of our letter, we remember another holy woman whom we had forgotten. Blessed are they whose number is seventeen, though we have not found their individual names listed. Perhaps those two maidens and one boy who did not allow themselves to be forced into baptism are included in this number. Blessed are they who withstood the trial!