Rashi's Daughters, Book II: Miriam (39 page)

“Oh, Joheved, I’m so afraid.”

“But your door is open now. It won’t hurt.”

“I’m not afraid of that. I’m afraid of ... I don’t know.” Rachel was shaking.

Joheved pulled out the last stitches and gave her little sister a hug. “I know it’s scary, not knowing what’s going to happen, and I wish I could describe it so you wouldn’t worry. But trust me. It will be wonderful, you’ll see. Now put on some more perfume and try to relax.”

Rachel forced herself to take several deep breaths. She slipped on an old linen chemise, leaving its laces undone, then kissed her sister good night and ushered her out of the room.

Before she could turn around, a short knock at the door was followed almost immediately by Eliezer’s appearance. He too was dressed only in a chemise, and she found herself staring at his bare feet. The skin there was so pale compared to his hands.

He hung up his new clothes, and she waited for him to embrace her. But he just stood there, on the other side of the bed, staring at her.
Well, if I am going to be brazen, this is the time
. She inhaled deeply and slipped the chemise’s neckline down over her shoulders, allowing her only garment to fall to the floor.

 

Hours later, when she opened her eyes, it was pitch dark and church bells were chiming. She was lying on her side, Eliezer’s arm around her
. Is it midnight already? Or even later?
She gasped and turned to face him.

“What’s the matter, Belle Assez?” he whispered, calling her the nickname that his brother had teased her with long ago.

“What time is it? How long have I been asleep?”

He could hear the urgency in her voice. “You’ve just dozed a little while. It’s only Compline.”

In the hall outside their room, low voices bid each other “
bonne nuit”
and “Shabbat shalom.”

“See,” he said. “My parents and sisters are just going to bed now.” He could feel her relaxing back into his arms. “Why does it matter what time it is?”

“Remember the Arayot in the tenth chapter of Eruvin, where Rava says that if you want to have male children you should perform the holy deed and then repeat it?”

Of course he remembered it. “What about it?”

“Does Rava say how much time may elapse between the first time and the second, in order that the second act count as a repetition and not as a new act?”

He smiled and pulled her closer. “
Non
, he doesn’t. Neither do his colleagues.” The smell of her body, mixed with the roses’ perfume, permeated his senses, and he was acutely aware of her bare breasts pressing against his chest.

“Then we don’t know if it’s too late now or not.” Her voice was a mixture of anxiety and disappointment.

“I don’t think it’s been that long since our first time,” Eliezer whispered between kisses. “But just in case, we can use the bed now and then again right afterward. Would that make you feel better, Belle Assez?”

She wanted to tell him not to call her Belle Assez, that it might provoke the Evil Eye. But her resolve faded as his kisses became more insistent, and as his hands began moving over her body, she abandoned herself to his sweet caresses.

 

The next evening Miriam tried in vain to locate Judah and Yom Tov in the crush of people. They’d been standing next to her during Havdalah, the ceremony that marked the end of the Sabbath, but as soon as the braided candle was doused in the cup of wine, the musicians began playing a lively wedding song, and everyone not dancing bolted for the tables laden with food.

What if Yom Tov had gotten separated from Judah? What if he was crying, alone and lost, too small to see over the adults’ heads? She took a deep breath and fought down her panic. Yom Tov wouldn’t leave their courtyard, and if anyone saw him crying they’d bring him to the table reserved for the bride’s family. She shifted Shimson to her hip and headed in that direction.

Rachel and Eliezer were already seated, smiling coyly as they ate together, feeding each other from their shared dishes. At one point, when the fruit preserves on Rachel’s bread began dripping, Eliezer brought her sticky hand to his mouth and licked her fingers clean, his eyes never leaving hers.

Miriam reached up to brush away a tear. Five years ago she and Judah could only pretend to have shared the intimacies that Rachel and Eliezer had obviously enjoyed. Miriam dabbed away another tear. If only she’d been able to enjoy those intimacies with Benjamin.

“It’s hard to watch them dance without crying too.” Joheved, her attention focused on the center of the courtyard, sat down in the empty chair next to her sister.

Miriam turned to look in that direction, where Mama and Eliezer’s mother were dancing together to a slow, poignant tune about marrying off one’s youngest child. Tears shone on both women’s cheeks, and on others’ in the audience as well. Again Miriam’s thoughts turned to the past; Benjamin had been his mother’s youngest child. Miriam wept openly now, her old wound unexpectedly tender.

As if intuiting her emotions, Shimson began to fuss in her arms, and Miriam was forced to put her sadness away and attend to her baby. She finally managed to coax a burp out of him when Joheved leaned over and whispered, “Miriam, I need your advice.”

Miriam looked up in surprise. Had her older sister ever asked her for advice? “Shall we go inside and talk privately?”

“No one will hear us over this din.” Joheved sighed. “It’s about an argument I had with Meir. I don’t know what to do, and you’re the only one I can talk to about it.”

Miriam couldn’t hide her apprehension. “What’s the matter?”

“Meir is worried that Shemayah’s daughter Zipporah, despite his scholarship and the family’s wealth, will not be able to find a worthy husband.”

“He’s right to worry,” Miriam said. “The poor girl’s family is cursed, and I can’t imagine what man would want to see his sons die so young.”

Joheved’s eyes narrowed in anger. “My husband has decided to solve Shemayah’s problem by having Isaac marry her.”

“He made the arrangement with Shemayah without consulting you?” Though Miriam knew how close the bond between study partners could be, she was still shocked.

“Meir told me that, as a father, arranging Isaac’s marriage is his obligation. He reminded me that Papa agreed to our betrothal without consulting Mama, just as he did with you and Judah,” Joheved said. “I tell you, his voice was like ice.”

“What did you say?”

“Of course I tried to change his mind. I reminded him that Isaac is heir to our estate. If Isaac can’t have sons, the land will revert to Count André.”

“But that’s not true, Joheved. If Isaac doesn’t have any sons, then one of Samuel’s sons will inherit, or maybe another of your grandsons.” Miriam began to feel sorry for Shemayah and Meir. “Besides, we don’t know that Zipporah herself is cursed, and, even if she is, the curse doesn’t strike every baby boy.”

Joheved clenched her fists. “How can he do this to Isaac, and to us? Make us suffer through every pregnancy, worrying if it will be a boy, and then if it is, forcing us to watch the poor child bleed to death?” She was almost crying. “And not just Isaac’s sons, but his daughter’s sons too.”

“Did you ask him that?”

“
Oui
, and he told me that Shemayah is dearer to him than any brother, that he cannot bear to see his friend grieve over this unmarriageable daughter when he can prevent it.”

Miriam didn’t know what to say. She could sympathize with Joheved as well.

“He honors Shemayah above his own family,” Joheved hissed.

“I know you’re not fond of Shemayah, but are you sure you’re not condemning him and his little girl because of something he said years ago while intoxicated?”

“I forgave him when he apologized.”
But would I have been more charitable if I hadn’t disliked the man?
“It is ironic that Shemayah, who thinks teaching daughters Torah is like teaching them lechery, will likely end up with only daughters to teach himself, daughters who would also never have sons. I wonder what Papa will think of his first grandson marrying such a girl?”

“Have you told Marona?”

“Meir told me not to. He doesn’t intend to make it public for some time. Besides, if I can’t convince him to see reason, then his mother probably wouldn’t be able to either, and telling her will only make matters worse.” Joheved wasn’t sure if Meir would actually beat her for disobedience or just make life miserable for her in other ways.

“Maybe you don’t have to change his mind,” Miriam said. “If Meir hasn’t made any announcement yet, why not wait until Zipporah is older and see what happens when she cuts herself ?”

Joheved looked at her sister with admiration. “You’re right. The girl is little more than a baby. Who knows if she’ll survive childhood, let alone live to a marriageable age?”

“The pox will return before then too,” Miriam said.

Joheved smiled. “I won’t say anything more about it to Meir. But one thing I’ll make sure of—Isaac isn’t going to marry Shemayah’s daughter until the girl has safely flowered.”

Miriam was about to ask Joheved if she worried about her children for no reason, when Yom Tov ran up. “Mama, Mama, look at the food we’ve brought you.” And there was Judah, followed by Alvina, each carrying a tray piled high with delicacies.

“Papa brought you a bowl of strawberries,” Yom Tov added proudly, throwing himself into her embrace.

“
Merci
, Judah.” Miriam smiled up at him. Then, with one arm clasping baby Shimson to her bosom and the other securely gripping Yom Tov’s shoulder, she sniffed back her tears and silently thanked Heaven for the love she had been given.
For shame
—
mourning at my sister’s wedding.

When Sarah joined them, it was clear from her expression that something was amiss. “My son writes that there was a terrible fire in Mayence, that it started in the Jewish Quarter.” Her brows creased with worry. “Only a few people were injured, but the quarter was destroyed, and much of the rest of the city burned as well.”

“That’s awful.” Miriam shuddered and clutched Shimson a little tighter. With all the thatched-roof houses so close together, fire was an ever-present danger. Usually they were extinguished quickly with buckets of sand and water, limiting the damage to a few houses or a single block. But if the weather was dry and windy, the best people could do was pray.

“Was it an accident?” Alvina asked. “Or did the Edomites set it deliberately?”

“An accident, my son thinks. But many Jews are afraid that the burghers will blame them for the damage.”

Joheved scowled. “They expect Jews to pay to reconstruct the city? They think the Jews have more money than the bishop?”

“Eleazar says that things in Mayence are so bad that Bishop Rudiger of Speyer has invited the Jews to settle in his city,” Sarah continued. “Rudiger’s ministers promise safety for those who settle there, with all rights necessary to earn their livelihood and practice their religion.”

“Surely the Bishop of Mayence will rebuild,” Judah said. It was horrible to imagine the entire Jewish Quarter, its homes, shops, taverns, and the yeshiva, in ashes.

Sarah sighed heavily. “I expect he will. But if Eleazar wants to move his family to Speyer, he has my blessing.”

Anna, carrying a tray of dirty dishes, paused on her way to the kitchen. “Baruch got a letter from my uncle. He says the new baby is doing well, and they intend to remain in Mayence.”

Salomon’s household rarely mentioned Catharina by name. A convert to Judaism, Catharina was considered a heretic by the Church. For her safety and that of the Troyes Jewish community, she’d fled her native city when she married Anna’s uncle Samson.

“I wouldn’t leave if the Old City burned down,” Miriam said. “Not as long as our vineyard was still standing.”

Joheved nodded in agreement. “Our burghers wouldn’t get so angry; they know how much business the Jews bring to Troyes.”

“And who’s to say that things will be better in Speyer than in Mayence?” Alvina asked. “The bishop just wants the trade the Jews will create.”

“Maybe Speyer will be better and maybe not,” Sarah replied. “But if my son has to build a new house, he’d rather build in a new city. If demons have cursed the Jewish Quarter of Mayence, Eleazar will be safer in Speyer.”

 

The following five nights found Salomon’s family at five more feasts in honor of his daughter’s nuptials, each provided by a different host. With foreign merchants still arriving in town, it was a simple matter to find a guest who had not attended one of the earlier meals, which allowed the seven wedding blessings to be recited again for his benefit.

The banquets were noisy affairs. Besides discussing their business, the merchants argued about that day’s Talmud lesson, whether it was more prudent for the Jews of Mayence to rebuild or move to Speyer, and which pope they preferred, King Henry’s Clement or the exiled Gregory. But it seemed to Miriam that their loudest arguments were over women doing circumcisions.

Since Shimson’s birth, four more Jewish boys had been born in Troyes, and for each one Miriam had done either
priah
or
motzitzin
in addition to bandaging the wound. The most recent
brit
was the day before the Hot Fair opened, and thus many foreign merchants were present. She could still hear the collective intake of breath that greeted her appearance, followed by whispers throughout the congregation. It wasn’t until she’d put on the
haluk
that she realized that for the first time Avram had not asked if anyone knew of a boy who wanted to be the mohel’s apprentice.

The debate began immediately. Many of the foreign merchants were outraged, arguing like Rav that women are not fit to perform
milah
. When confronted with Rav Yohanan’s opinion that women are fit, and with the Talmudic rule that in disputes between Rav and Rav Yohanan,
halakhah
agrees with the latter, they declared that in this case Rav’s view was the correct one.