Rashi's Daughters, Book II: Miriam (11 page)

Marona had shrugged her shoulders and said, “I have no idea why it happens, but some ewes reject their offspring. A male becomes lamb stew, but a female is worth some effort to save.”

When Miriam was confronted by a ewe that rebuffed every attempt of the newborn to nurse, she had one of the dairymaids teach her how to feed the lamb with her fingers and a container of milk. Yet once the small creature was drinking readily from a pail, it continued to suck on Miriam’s fingers. The lamb never failed to greet her appearance with excitement, which only increased Miriam’s affection for it.

 

The lambing season was still upon them at Purim, and thus the festival caused only a ripple in the manor’s flow of work. The small Jewish community of Ramerupt read the Megillah and feasted, but the celebration was tame compared to Troyes, and Miriam only cried once at missing Benjamin. The week after Purim saw the first glimpse of warm weather, and the sheep eagerly returned to their pastures for the new grass that peeked through the melting snow.

Miriam expected to return home for Passover, but she saw that Marona again needed her help. Samuel was seriously ill. It started innocuously enough with a late winter cold. Despite consuming copious amounts of Marona’s chicken broth, he developed both a fever and a hacking cough. A week later, when he began coughing up thick sputum flecked with blood and his breathing became so labored that he was forced to sleep sitting up, Marona began to fear for his life.

In desperation she sent off two letters, one to each of her sons. To Meshullam, she wrote that his father was ill and he should spend Passover at his parents’ home. Meir’s letter stated that Samuel was sick and asked him to please arrange for a visit by the new physician.

Meir consulted with Joheved, then saddled his horse and rode to Moses’s home. Relieved to find the doctor at home, he showed him Marona’s note. “My father must be ill indeed for my mother to seek a physician’s presence.”

Moses called for his horse to be readied and began to pack his medical kit. “Did your mother even hint at the nature of your father’s illness? If I knew more about his ailment I could bring an appropriate medicine.”

“I’m sorry, she wrote nothing more than what I told you,” Meir replied. “I must warn you, my mother doesn’t like doctors.”

“That’s a shame,” Moses said. “People who don’t like doctors usually don’t send for one until it’s too late, and then his failure only makes them dislike doctors even more.”

An hour later they rode into the manor’s courtyard. As two servants ran out to see to their horses, Moses said to Meir, “I’m sure you’re eager to see your father. Let me relieve myself first, then I’ll be right up.”

Meir was indeed anxious to get upstairs and directed one of the servants to show Moses to the privy.

“Quickly man, what ails your master?” Moses questioned the man as they walked.

“They say that he has a bad fever and coughs so much he can scarcely breathe.”

After relieving himself, Moses had only a few moments left before entering the house. “What has been done for him?”

“I believe her ladyship is giving him broth and some herbal infusions.” The servant continued proudly, “Lady Marona is as good a healer as they come. She cured my wife of ague last winter and my cousin of the flux the year before.”

Before he reached the door, Marona opened it herself and welcomed him. Moses cautioned her to say nothing until he had examined the patient. She knitted her brows but remained silent as they headed upstairs to the sickroom, Miriam following behind. At first appearance, the elderly man propped up in bed before them could have just fallen asleep. His light grey hair, while thin, still covered most of his head, and his beard, a darker shade of grey, was neatly trimmed.

On closer examination, Moses observed his patient’s blue-tinged lips and unfocused eyes, and heard the labored gasps of someone who cannot quite catch his breath. He picked up Samuel’s hand to take his pulse, then leaned over and listened to his chest. Marona had ordered the servants to save Samuel’s latest urine for the doctor to examine, and Moses carefully pulled out a container from his bag and poured the liquid into it.

Marona, Miriam, and Meir stared at him in astonishment. The doctor’s container was transparent, the yellow urine clearly visible through its walls. They watched, eyes wide, as Moses swirled the liquid in his flask, sniffed its odor, and then delicately inserted his small finger inside to take a taste.

Only then did he turn to Marona. “Please describe your husband’s diet since he’s been ill.”

Marona was pleasantly surprised by Moses’s polite professionalism. “He has eaten little besides chicken broth and a bit of bread these last ten days. I also made him a tisane of steeped sage and thyme.” When Moses remained silent, she continued, “He has the soup twice a day and the tisane several times.”

In Salerno Moses had been taught to deliver a discourse on his patient’s disease before prescribing any treatment. “It appears that your husband has the sweating sickness complicated with catarrh of the lungs. Let me explain.”

Miriam, standing in the doorway, stepped into the room as he continued, “A man’s health is maintained by the proper equilibrium of the four humors in his body: blood, phlegm, yellow bile, and black bile. These correspond to the four elements: air, water, fire, and earth. Blood, being like air, is hot and moist; phlegm is cold and moist like water; yellow bile is hot and dry, similar to fire; and black bile is cold and dry, as is earth.”

He made sure he had Marona’s attention. “Old people become cold and dry as they age, so that if Lord Samuel were in perfect health I would recommend that his diet tend toward the warm and moist. Do you understand?”

Marona slowly nodded. “And since he probably has too much phlegm, should I correct his diet toward the hot and dry?”

“You are correct. Since both sage and thyme have this character, your soup and herbal infusions are a good start.” Moses’s face took on an optimistic expression. “With aggressive treatment and the Holy One’s help, recovery should come soon.”

Marona took hold of Meir’s arm for support as tears of relief came to her eyes. “Thank Heaven that Troyes has a new doctor just when we need one.”

Once downstairs, Moses adopted a graver tone. “I did not want to alarm the patient, but it was a lucky thing you called me in. I only hope it’s not too late.” His dour speech was interrupted as his stomach growled.

“I’m so sorry.” Meir turned to his mother and explained, “I hurried the poor doctor here without
disner
.”

“By all means dine with us, Moses.” Marona directed servants to prepare the table and asked Miriam show the doctor her medicinal herbs.

Miriam accompanied Moses to the cellar, where he inspected the many dried branches hanging from hooks. When they returned, Marona assured him that she collected sage and thyme before the plants flowered and that neither had been exposed to sunlight.

“That’s well and good for treating a mild cold, but for your husband’s illness we need herbs, thyme especially, which have been stored in an airtight vessel. I will direct the apothecary to prepare some for me to bring tomorrow.”

“You need to return so soon?” Meir’s trepidation was obvious as they took their places at the dining table. “But you can send it over in the morning with my wife.”

“Joheved is coming here tomorrow?” Miriam smiled broadly.

“I must stay in Ramerupt and offer prayers until my father is well, and knowing how much my wife misses you, I suggested she join me here.” Meir grinned shyly. He didn’t need to say how lonely he would feel.

Miriam turned to the doctor. “Where did you get that transparent container you used upstairs?”

Moses handed her the vessel. “It’s called glass, and it’s made by heating sand so hot that it melts. Then the glassmaker molds the molten stuff into whatever shape he desires.”

Miriam held the glass up to the light. “Amazing—you can see right through it. It must be very expensive.”

“I bought it in Bavel when I went to medical school.” Moses took another piece of meat. “It’s not so expensive there—all the physicians have them.”

“You studied in Bavel?” Meir’s eyes opened wide. “Are the great yeshivot still training Talmud students there?”

“I’m sad to say that the Bavel yeshivot are no longer the great academies they once were.” The doctor sighed. Then, so the family wouldn’t think he’d forgotten his patient, he said to the nearest servant, “Excuse me, but could you go upstairs and see if your master has finished his tisane?”

When the servant returned to announce that Lord Samuel had emptied his cup, Moses addressed Marona. “Regarding foodstuffs, I want a special recipe prepared for your husband. I believe that a nice blancmange, made with shredded chicken breasts, rice flour, and almond milk, will warm and moisten him. He is not to eat fish or squashes, both being wet and cold in the second degree, and on no account should he consume mushrooms, which are wet and cold in the third degree.”

Whenever Moses began to lecture about food and humors, most of his listeners quickly grew bored. Miriam and Marona, however, looked attentive, so Moses became more voluble. “When our patient, may the Almighty protect him, is a bit better, say next week or so, I’d like him to start eating roasted meat and drinking wine spiced with cinnamon and cloves, all of which are hot and dry to the first degree.”

He tossed the two women a question. “Guess what food is both hot and dry to the third degree?”

“Ginger?” ventured Marona.

“Close.” He smiled. “Ginger is hot to the third degree, but because it’s a root, it’s considered wet to the first degree. However, I am talking about a spice.”

“It has to be pepper.” Miriam couldn’t think of any spice that was hotter.

“You’re right.” Moses beamed at her. “All seeds are dry to some degree, but pepper is the hottest.”

He paused for a moment and suggested that Marona liberally add pepper to the next batch of Samuel’s broth. Then, he stood to say adieu.

Marona walked him to the gate. “I’m surprised you didn’t bleed my husband. That’s all the other doctors want to do.”

“My good lady.” The physician sounded shocked. “It is dangerous to perform bloodletting during the month of Adar. When the month of Nissan arrives, we’ll see if his condition warrants it. Even then, I would not bleed him except on the favorable days of Sunday or Wednesday.”

 

The next day the doctor arrived accompanied by Joheved and little Isaac. Meir held his son while the sisters embraced.

“Miriam, look at you!” Joheved grinned at the improvement in her sister’s appearance since their last meeting. Miriam’s cheeks were now rosy and filled out. “I was right. Country living does agree with you.”

“I don’t know if I’m completely well,” Miriam said. “But I believe I’m feeling better. Tell me, how are Mama and Papa?”

Joheved laughed. “Papa’s frantically working on his pre-Pesach sermon, and Mama’s desperate that she won’t get the house cleaned in time for the festival.”

“Papa always worries about his sermons.” Miriam smiled in return. “Maybe if he preached more often than twice a year, he wouldn’t get so nervous.” Her expression turned serious. “Shouldn’t I go home to help Mama now that you’re here?”

“Not when I have my first chance to visit with you in months,” Joheved said. “Let Rachel do some work around the house for a change. It won’t hurt her to get dust on her hands.” She leaned over and whispered, “I have something to tell you about Rachel when we’re alone.”

With the two young women engaged in conversation, Moses inquired about his patient and sighed with relief to hear that Samuel’s condition was stable. In addition to a sealed jar of thyme, Moses brought with him a large bouquet of daisies. He presented both to Marona, who awkwardly thanked him for the lovely blossoms.

Moses chuckled. “But these are for your husband. If spring were full upon us I would have looked for cowslip or coughwort, but this early in the year daisies will have to do. Chop the entire plant up fine and mix it with curds. Daily use will purify his blood, an excellent thing since we cannot bleed him, and it will also help loosen his mucus.”

“I have some cowslip root,” Marona said. “We boil it in water to bathe wounds, but I don’t know about coughwort.”

Moses shook his head. “We need cowslip leaves and flowers to make an effective expectorant. As for coughwort, perhaps you know it by a different name. The plant sends up yellow flowers in early spring, and the leaves, which are shaped like an animal’s hoof, come up after the flowers are gone.”

“Do you mean coltsfoot?” Miriam asked. “It has yellow flowers that close up at night and when it’s cloudy.”

Moses nodded. “If it grows around here, we should make every effort to procure some.”

“I’m sure I’ve seen it nearby,” Marona said. “I think it blooms first on the south-facing slopes.”

Once inside, Moses visited the sickroom and again checked his patient’s pulse, breathing, and urine. He announced himself satisfied with Samuel’s progress and suggested that the sickbed be moved to a room with a large south-facing window. Any
mazikim
still lurking about would be dispelled by the sunshine.

His duty done, Moses joined the household for their midday meal. Meir gave the doctor a chance to eat undisturbed by describing his own efforts on Samuel’s behalf. “At night I sit by his bed and study Torah. To make my prayers more powerful, I begin and end each one by reciting from Numbers:

And from Deuteronomy:

The doctor nodded. “Very good. Those particular verses provide protection against most fevers.”

“I have been reminded that ‘Charity delivers from death.’ ” Meir smiled at Joheved. “So my mother, on my father’s behalf, will provide, from our manor’s mill, the flour required to make matzah for the needy families in Troyes and Ramerupt, as well as a lamb each from our flocks for their seders.”