Rashi's Daughters, Book II: Miriam (54 page)

Meir couldn’t wait to go back upstairs to where Joheved lay. Since the birth he had been forbidden to touch her, but now the eight days of her impurity from childbirth were complete. He took the damp cloth from Anna and began wiping the sweat from his wife’s face and neck. Each time he dipped it in fresh water and wrung it out, he recited one of the biblical verses that wielded the power of the Holy Name against the fever demons. First, from Deuteronomy:

And then from Numbers:

Exhausted, Meir stripped down to his chemise and got under the covers. Tears running down his cheeks, he held Joheved’s burning body close and prayed the verses against fever again and again. Lying limply in his arms, she seemed oblivious to his presence, but as long as he could feel her chest rise and fall, Meir had hope.

There was a soft knock on the door. “Meir?” Shemayah asked from the hall. “I have the Torah scroll from the synagogue.”

Meir reluctantly got up and opened the door. Together they placed the holy scroll near the bed.

“I don’t suppose you’re interested in rejoining the feast,” Shemayah said. “Even though you are the host.”

When Meir shook his head, his friend continued, “I thought as much, so I also brought along my copy of Tractate Sanhedrin.”

It wasn’t long before their study was interrupted by another knock. This time it was Miriam at the door, followed by Judah, Salomon and Rivka, and Rachel and Eliezer, all wearing somber expressions.

Miriam sniffed the air, alert for the slightest hint of the stench that had pervaded Rosaline’s sickroom. “Meir, your efforts alone may not be sufficient to save Joheved.”

“You know how dangerous pairs are,” Rivka whispered. “Of course there’s nothing you could have done to prevent it, but two sisters each giving birth to a baby boy, so close together—certainly this has provoked the Evil Eye.”

Judah nodded. “Especially their being daughters of a
talmid chacham
, and married to scholars themselves.”

“Our entire family must help,” Miriam said. “Papa says he knows of no one with Ben Yochai’s store of wisdom, but surely there are scholars at the Cold Fair who know spells to fight Lillit and the Evil Eye.”

“I want all of you to also try to remember anything you’ve studied on this subject,” Salomon said.

Miriam turned to Rachel. “Talk to our clients. Ask them what methods they’ve heard of.”

“I’m sure I’ll find out something. Women know things about childbirth that men don’t.”

Rivka suddenly gave a gasp. “Our mezuzah is the same one since Salomon and I married. Maybe there are spiders nesting in it or insects have eaten some of it.” She turned anxiously to her husband. “When was the last time you checked it?”

“It was all right the last time I looked.” Salomon evaded her question. “But in case some of the letters have faded, I shall get a new one.”

“See if you can find Mordecai,” Miriam said. “He made Rachel’s birth amulet at the Cold Fair two years ago.”

“You’ll have to do that tomorrow morning,” Judah said. “Or wait until Monday.”

“What?” Miriam stared at him in surprise.

“A mezuzah must be written on Thursday in the fourth hour, ruled by Venus and the angel Anael,” Judah explained. “Or during the fifth hour on Monday, when the sun and the angel Raphael rule.”

“Tomorrow at the fourth hour then.” Salomon stood up. “I will look for this Mordecai immediately, so he’ll be ready.”

Judah was the next to leave. “The Eastern merchants I study with may have some esoteric knowledge.”

“Remember those two men speaking Arabic on the caravan with us from Arles?” Rachel asked Eliezer. “They’re still in town; I saw them at Shabbat services.”

“I’ll question them.”

 

The next morning Salomon headed for the fairgrounds, accompanied by his two healthy daughters. Mordecai the scribe was ready when they arrived at his stall. He squinted at Miriam and Rachel for a moment and then his face lit up in recognition.

“I originally had another client scheduled for today, but since your case is urgent I told him to come back next week,” he said. “It’s well that amulets may be written on both the twelfth and the sixteenth day of the month. For if, Heaven forbid, the new mother is not better by Thursday, I will write another mezuzah for the sickroom door.”

At their surprised expressions he explained, “Some pious folk hang one on every door in their house. I know a rabbi in Rothenburg who was tormented by an evil spirit whenever he took an afternoon nap, but not after he put a mezuzah at his study door.”

The scribe took out a small sundial and aligned it on the counter. “It’s almost the fourth hour. Let’s begin.” He reached below and took out a cow’s horn full of ink, a goose quill, and a small piece of parchment.

Then, staring at these, he chanted, “
Baruch ata Adonai
, King of the World, Who has sanctified Your great name and revealed it to the pious ones, to invoke Your power and Your might by means of Your name and Your words.”

Miriam glanced at Rachel, who nodded in return. Mordecai had said the same prayer before writing Rachel’s birth amulet.

He held up the parchment. “This
klaf
is made of deerskin.”

“I thought it looked different from the sheep parchment we made.” Salomon held out his hand. “May I examine it?”

“Not unless you immersed in the
mikvah
this morning and can assure me that you’ve touched nothing impure since,” Mordecai replied.

Salomon withdrew his hand and then leaned closer as the scribe spread out the
klaf
and wrote “Shaddai” in the middle of it.

“The letters of this holy name also stand for ‘guardian of the dwellings of Israel,’ and when it’s done I shall roll the
klaf
in such a way that you can read ‘Shaddai’ through a hole in the mezuzah case,” Mordecai explained.

He turned the
klaf
around and wrote three strange words, “Kozu Bemochsaz Kozu,” at the very bottom. “This is a powerful, secret name for the Holy One,” he whispered. “If you take each Hebrew word and replace its letters with the next one in the alphabet, you get . . .”

“Adonai Eloheinu Adonai,” Rachel interrupted, her eyes wide. “The three names for God in the Shema—”

“Which is the first line written on a mezuzah,” Miriam finished for her.

“‘Kozu Bemochsaz Kozu’ must be written on the exact place where ‘Adonai Eloheinu Adonai’ appears on the reverse side,” Mordecai said as he drew several bizarre figures at the bottom of the
klaf
. Then, in one smooth motion, he blew on the ink to dry it, turned the
klaf
over, and proceeded to scratch twenty-two parallel lines into the blank parchment with an empty quill. “Now comes the actual text from Deuteronomy.”

The three observers stood as close as they could without blocking the sunlight. Miriam was astonished to see that Mordecai was writing more than just the biblical text. At the end of the first line, he wrote “Yah,” one of the Holy names, and below that a pentagram. The last letter in the third line had a little circle under it, and under the pentagram he wrote the archangel’s name, Michael.

Miriam had always assumed that the only words on a mezuzah were those from the Torah. Obviously this wasn’t so; every line was followed by holy names and esoteric symbols. But who had decided this and why?

Papa must have been thinking the same thing, because no sooner had Mordecai finished the sixth line than he asked, “What are those extra words and figures on the left?”

“And why do you draw those little circles between some of the words?” Miriam asked. It seemed sacrilegious to add these doodles in the middle of the holy text.

Mordecai continued to work as he answered Salomon. “My learned teacher taught me that along the left side we write the names of seven angels, as well as five holy names of God. I don’t know the purpose of all the figures, but the ten pentagrams represent the Ten Commandments.”

Then he told Miriam, “Some say that the circles, which will number ten in all, also correspond to the Ten Commandments, while others say they indicate the ten elements of a man’s body. As to why we use these additional names and symbols, and why they go in certain positions on the
klaf
. . .” Mordecai paused for a moment to consider the question. “I was taught that they make a mezuzah more powerful.”

Miriam couldn’t object to that. Every Jew had to trust that the mezuzah scribe followed the correct procedure.

“Can a woman write a mezuzah?” Rachel asked.

“I don’t know of any who do,” the scribe admitted.

Salomon stroked his beard. “Since women are obligated in the mitzvah of mezuzah the same as men, it would seem that, once she’s been to the
mikvah
, a woman could write one just as a man does,” he said slowly. “After all, the reward of mezuzah is to increase our days. If we talk about long life for a man, doesn’t a woman deserve a long life too?”

They silently thought of Joheved, for whom this mezuzah would hopefully bring a long life.

Mordecai held up the finished mezuzah for them to inspect, and Rachel couldn’t help herself. The letters were pale grey, not black. “The color is so light,” she complained.

The scribe smiled at her. “A well-prepared ink will darken to an intense purplish black, and its marks will adhere so firmly to the
klaf
that, unlike other inks, they cannot be erased by rubbing or washing, only by scraping off the writing surface itself.” His voice rang with pride.

“Where do you get your ink?” Salomon bought ink from the same merchants every summer, but perhaps the scribe had a less expensive source.

“I make it myself.” Mordecai blew on the
klaf
to dry it. “It’s not difficult. First add some crushed oak galls to water, then boil the mixture for several hours. After it cools, mix in some green vitriol along with gum arabic, which thickens the ink and makes it flow properly from the quill. Some people allow the gall nuts to ferment in water for a few weeks rather than boil it, but I find that boiling yields a deeper black.”

“I see.” Salomon nodded and decided to continue buying ink from his usual vendors, no matter what the cost.

Miriam took the rolled up mezuzah scroll and gently placed it in her sleeve, awed that such an innocuous-looking thing could wield such tremendous power against evil. She walked home cautiously, lest some misstep damage the scroll and bring her family bad luck.

T
hat evening at
souper
, with Joheved no better, her family shared the advice they’d received for healing her. If Meir weren’t already doing so, he should say his morning and evening Shema at Joheved’s bedside, loud enough that she could hear it, especially the anti-demonic Ninety-first Psalm.

Salomon immediately hung the new mezuzah at the front door. “I intend to immerse on Thursday and then help Mordecai make another mezuzah. I will write the lines starting with:

Everyone nodded in approval. A mezuzah Salomon wrote himself should be more protective of his family than one done by a stranger.

Rachel was eager to share what she had learned. “When a woman in Sepharad has childbed fever, they pray the Twentieth Psalm in her ear nine times every day at the ninth hour.”

“Aunt Sarah once told me about that psalm helping a woman in labor,” Miriam said. “Maybe it will heal a new mother as well.”

Judah had consulted the Eastern merchants. “I was hoping they could recommend some of the fever remedies in Tractate Shabbat, but they’d never heard of any of them curing childbed fever.”

Every face at the table fell with disappointment, until Judah continued, “But one man knew of an incantation against Lillit’s fever demon, Ochnotinos: A pious man, while still fasting in the morning, spits three times and then says, ‘Ochnotinos, notinos, otinos, tinos, inos, nos, os.’ The fellow said this was from the Talmud, but I’ve never heard of it.”

Judah looked questioningly at Salomon, who stroked his beard for a while before answering. “I recall something like that from Tractate Avodah Zarah. The evil spirit shrinks and finally vanishes as he hears his name decreasing.”

“My wife was correct,” Eliezer said proudly. “One of the men on our caravan has studied the hidden Torah and knew a spell effective against fever demons.”

“Which is?” Meir looked hopeful now that Judah’s spell had been verified by the Talmud.

“Take a new knife and draw a circle around the fevered area nine times,” Eliezer replied. “Do this every day and the patient will either be cured in nine days or . . .” He didn’t need to say what would happen otherwise.

“Did you find out anything, Mama?” Miriam asked. Her mother was always battling evil spirits; she must have some remedy.

Rivka did. “I’ve also heard about making circles with a new knife, although I learned that you make three circles, not nine,” she said. “Of course, every woman knows that the best cure for fever is chicken broth well seasoned with garlic.”

“I say we try them all.” Miriam wished she could consult her aunt, but Aunt Sarah had gone to bed early, complaining of fever herself.

“I’m already fasting from meat on Monday and Thursday,” Meir said. “But for the next nine days, I will not eat meat except on the Sabbath.”

“Nor will I,” added Salomon.

Judah could see that Miriam was about to join them. “Miriam is nursing, she cannot fast,” he said. “So I will fast in her place.”

“You don’t need to buy a new knife, Papa,” Rachel said, for it was clear that he should be the one to perform the two spells. “Eliezer and I have several for you to choose from.” Then she turned to her husband and they nodded at each other. “And we will also avoid meat for nine days.”