Rashi's Daughters, Book III: Rachel (22 page)

Miriam had no choice but to confirm her sister’s fears. The baby had been dead at least a week, probably longer if the smell was there when Eliezer got home. Now its body must be removed as soon as possible.

“I want you to fast today,” Miriam told Rachel, who was still in shock. “Then tonight and tomorrow morning, I’ll give you a nasty-tasting drink to make your womb expel its contents.”

“Will it hurt?” Rachel’s eyes were wide with fright.

“Probably not as much as real labor.” Miriam wasn’t sure about someone as sensitive to pain as her little sister.

She had considered several potions that midwives used in these cases and decided that a mixture of rue, mugwort, wormwood, and iris, ground up and boiled in wine, might be the easiest to try first. There was another, one that the Edomite midwife Elizabeth recommended, which involved boiling a blind young puppy in vervain juice with mint and lady’s mantle, but it would take too long to prepare. And Miriam didn’t want to go searching for a newborn puppy when she already had the ingredients for the first potion, never mind that she found the procedure revolting.

But two days later, though Rachel complained of cramps and blood was draining from her womb, its contents remained inside. So Miriam consulted Elizabeth about using a pessary smeared with pennyroyal, hyssop, and dittany.

“These, and your previous potion, work well when there is a live child within,” the more experienced midwife said. “However, a dead one requires stronger medicine, since he lacks any motion to strengthen his mother’s labor.”

“A stronger potion could kill my sister. She’s already ill.”

Elizabeth shook her head sadly. “Then you must draw forth the child yourself, either with your hand or with hooks.”

Miriam gasped. “Aunt Sarah left me hooks in her midwife kit, but I’ve never used them.”

“Then I’ll come and explain what to do.” She looked down and added, “It’s a good thing you have small hands.”

Miriam didn’t mention the hooks, only telling Rachel that she would prefer to extract the child manually rather than use stronger medicine. She took advantage of her mother and Joheved’s illnesses to exclude them from the lying-in room, leaving her and Elizabeth alone with Rachel. Sure that the pain would be too much for her sensitive sister, Miriam took the precaution of dosing her with opium. The procedure would be difficult enough without Rachel screaming and thrashing about.

Recalling how she helped deliver many babies, including the current count of Champagne, Miriam dipped her hand in olive oil and then reached up into her sister’s womb. Her heart sank when she felt the opening blocked by the baby’s arm. Rachel, barely conscious, groaned softly but remained still as Miriam ascertained the child’s position.

“One arm and shoulder are in the birth canal, but the head is stuck inside.” There was silence while she tried some maneuvering and then, “I can’t push the arm back in to bring the baby into a better position.”

“Tie this ribbon around the hand and give the end to me,” Elizabeth said. “Then you know what to do.”

Miriam nodded. With Elizabeth grasping the ribbon in one hand and holding Rachel’s torso immobile with the other, Miriam grasped the knife she used for cutting a newborn’s chord. The blade was razor sharp; yet somehow Miriam had to insert it into Rachel’s womb and cut off the child’s arm without injuring her sister or herself. Seeing no other way, she shielded the blade with her palm as she pushed her hand back up the canal, trying not to flinch as it cut into her. Thank Heaven Rachel was too sedated to move.

She took a deep breath, reached up as far as she could, and with her
mohelet
’s speed and precision, sliced the arm from its shoulder. “You can pull now,” she told Elizabeth as she carefully slipped the knife back out.

Miriam examined her own minor wounds as she washed her hands, averting her eyes from the tiny decomposing arm that Elizabeth wrapped in linen cloth. Then she bathed Rachel’s birth canal with clean oil. “I don’t think I cut my sister much. I don’t see any fresh blood.” The child had been dead so long that severing its arm didn’t cause it to bleed.

“Good,” Elizabeth said. “Now let’s hope you can push the shoulder up so the head will come into position.”

Miriam was able to do this without difficulty and, repulsed by the feel of what she knew was the child’s rotting flesh, hurriedly pulled out her hand.

Elizabeth took in Miriam’s distressed visage. “Only a little longer and it will be over. I would do this next part myself if my hand would fit.”

Miriam straightened up tall. “Let’s get it over with then.”

Elizabeth handed her two hooks, each attached to the end of a silk cord. “Try for an eye socket or under the chin. If you can’t find those, use the roof of the mouth or one of the shoulders.”

Miriam managed to attach the two hooks and, as she withdrew her hand, handed the silk cords to Elizabeth. Now her part was done, and she paced the room as her colleague gently tugged on the cords, slowly pulling the child’s body along with them.

When Rachel regained full consciousness, her womb was empty and Miriam was pressing her to drink some ale mixed with nutmeg and feverfew.

“She must drink a cup of this every hour, including during the night,” she told Eliezer.

“Was it a girl or a boy?” he asked.

“It was a boy, but even so you must not resume relations until two weeks after she’s stopped bleeding,” Miriam warned him. “It doesn’t matter that the blood of childbirth is pure. Rachel needs time to heal.”

Miriam hadn’t wanted to look at what remained of the baby, but she’d forced herself to check the gender. After seeing that it was male, she kept from gagging just long enough to circumcise him. Then she waited for Rachel to wake up.

As soon as the opium wore off, Rachel asked Miriam what causes a child to die in the womb.

“Many things, but usually we don’t know for sure.”

“What things?” Rachel insisted.

“Want of nutrients and a corrupt diet, as during a famine,” Miriam said. “Although that certainly can’t be the case here. Just as it doesn’t seem possible that your child died because you ate too much and choked him.”

“What do you see as a likely cause?” Rachel had to know.

“If the mother suffers from sudden fears, extreme joy, or sorrow, or much trouble of mind, these strong emotions can keep blood from reaching the womb to nourish the child.”

Rachel gulped. From the moment Eudes first approached her in the wine cellar, she’d been buffeted by strong emotions. Fear that he would seduce her, followed by anxiety that Eliezer would learn of their liaison, then terror as she plotted to kill him, followed by joy and relief when he died first.

“But I had strong emotions when Eliezer’s father and brother died before Shemiah was born.”

“Shemiah was fully formed by then, but with this one, your mind was troubled for much of the pregnancy.” Miriam took Rachel’s hand and lowered her voice. “What happened is probably for the best. I hate to imagine how the child would have been influenced by you thinking about that evil man so much.”

 

Sitting on her porch with her feet elevated, Rachel savored the last hour of warmth before the sun set; she’d felt so cold while she was ill. Everyone else was at synagogue on this eighth and final day of Passover. There were no seders to end Passover, but the last two days, like the first two, were holidays. Even Joheved and her new baby were attending afternoon services, while Rachel prayed at home.

Miriam had insisted that Rachel stay home and rest for seven days, exactly as she would have done following a normal birth. The feverfew had done its job, and each day Rachel felt her health improve. Yet she did not feel well: at times a heaviness in her heart and tightness in her chest made it difficult to breathe. Her emotions fluctuated randomly between listlessness, melancholy, and anger. Thank Heaven there were no important decisions she needed to make, as it was difficult to concentrate on what people were saying.

Eliezer was more solicitous than ever; yet she oddly felt little grief for their stillborn son, only emptiness. Definitely not the agony she’d experienced last year when baby Asher died.

Somehow this child’s demise was tied in with Eudes, and a part of her wanted to forget about both of them as soon as possible. Miriam said her emotional numbness could come from being dosed with opium, but Rachel still found her lack of overt sorrow bewildering.

Her reflections were interrupted by the gate squeaking open. Who could it be when everyone is supposed to be at services?

Guy de Dampierre who, of course, wouldn’t be in synagogue today, lumbered up the path with a smile. Too lethargic to stand up, Rachel waited for Guy to come to her. But before he reached the well, Mama stepped out of the kitchen door and waved to him.

Rachel’s contemplative mood evaporated. Mama must have had one of her dizzy spells again; that’s why she’s home on the holiday. Rachel knew it was wrong to feel this way, but her resentment bubbled up anyway. It couldn’t be coincidence that Mama always felt dizzy when it meant extra work for Rachel, the daughter Papa loved the most, maybe more than he loved Mama.

Immediately Rachel felt overwhelmed with guilt. A Jewish daughter should respect and honor her mother, be grateful for everything her mother does for her. Mama had born her and raised her, cared for her and her children when they were sick, worried ceaselessly over their health and welfare. Mama had never raised a hand against her.

Even so, Rachel found her bile rising whenever Mama complained of dizziness. But she had no time to dwell on this. Mama and Guy were approaching, and they looked upset.

“It is true that you cannot accept my eggs, bread, and cakes tonight?” Guy’s voice rose with annoyance. “I thought today was the last day of your Festival of Unleavened Bread.”

“We can accept them later, once Passover is finished,” Rachel replied. “But we cannot take them yet.”

“The baker’s assistant is outside in the street with a full cart,” Guy said. “Can’t he at least come inside and wait?”

Mama looked at Rachel hopefully, but Rachel shook her head. “Jews are forbidden to have any leaven in our homes or in our possession during Passover.”

Guy turned around and was heading for the gate when Mama called out, “Wait. I’ll go get my husband.”

Rachel didn’t know which made her angrier—that Mama didn’t accept her knowledge of Jewish Law or that Mama would interrupt Papa at synagogue.

Guy calmed at this and turned back to Rachel. “So if you can’t have any leaven in your possession during Passover, what does a Jewish wheat merchant do?”

“He finds a trustworthy non-Jew who buys it from him before the festival and sells it back afterward at a small profit.”

“And if the non-Jew refuses to sell back the grain or asks for a larger profit?”

“That’s why the non-Jew has to be trustworthy.”

Rachel had barely scratched the surface of the complex laws of Passover when the gate banged open and there was Papa. “I told them that we couldn’t accept his gift until after sunset,” she said. “But Mama insisted on getting you.”

Salomon looked at the nearly setting sun and stroked his beard. Finally he turned to Guy. “My daughter is right about the leavened food. I thank you for thinking of us kindly, for realizing how we much would appreciate the taste of bread and cakes after a week of matzah, and for not wanting us to wait.”

He took in his wife’s frowning visage and sighed. “The lad can bring in the eggs and put them in that shady corner, and when the proper time has passed we can use them. But I cannot take the bread and cakes.”

“I’ll leave them next door then,” Guy suggested. Not all of Salomon’s neighbors were Jews.

“Even if you leave them with a non-Jew, as long as they are designated for me, they will come into my possession,” Salomon said. “And that would make them forbidden to me, or to any Jew.”

Guy rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Very well. I will send the cart back to the bakery and tell the boy to return later.”

“
Merci
, Guy. He can come when he sees three stars in the sky,” Salomon added.

 

Rachel’s strength slowly returned, and when Joheved’s son Isaac married Moses haCohen’s daughter Judita one month later on Lag b’Omer, Rachel managed to dance at the wedding and the seven celebratory banquets that followed. After that Miriam agreed that she might be sufficiently strong to work in the vineyard again. Eliezer worried that it would be too much for her, all that standing in the sun to train the shoots properly. But Rachel reminded him that this had to be done by someone with experience, that the angle at which the branch is made to grow is critical for its productivity.

Rachel felt drawn to the vineyard. There she was spared the condolences and sympathetic glances that follow a stillbirth, and no opportunities arose for comparisons between Joheved’s robust infant and her own empty arms. She had held her head up high at Isaac’s wedding, dancing even when she felt weak, never letting a tear stain her face, but she knew what everyone was saying—words of pity that merely covered their relief that it was her loss and not theirs. In the vineyard she suffered no awkward moments when someone tried to comfort her but instead rubbed salt into her wound.

With summer approaching, the grape vines were finally safe from a sudden late frost, and Papa’s relief translated into voluble explanations of Torah for the students who helped him trim the vine’s canopy of leaves to achieve the correct exposure of the grape buds to sunlight. By early afternoon, with a warm haze rising from the freshly hoed soil, the clean and tidy vineyard was a joy to behold—its vine props standing to attention, the first small buds venturing timidly along the branches.