Rashi's Daughters, Book II: Miriam (23 page)

“Alvina should go as well,” Miriam said. “She’s in the jewelry business.”

Alvina’s presence had an unexpected effect; once at Avram’s, Salomon was too ashamed to pawn Alvina’s gift in front of her. Then Rachel surprised them by offering her coral beads to offset what her father would owe for a new emerald ring. Even with Rachel’s necklace, Salomon still owed the goldsmith a good deal of money, but the woman was satisfied.

Yet compared to Rivka, Salomon didn’t seem too upset. When anyone asked him about the loss, he quoted from Pirke Avot:

After nearly two months of marriage, the chief difference in Miriam’s life was sharing a bed with Judah instead of with Rachel. She continued to attend laboring women with Aunt Sarah about once a week, alternate leading women’s services with Joheved, and study Talmud with her sisters. Most of her days were still spent in her family’s vineyard, where every task brought back memories of she and Benjamin doing them together.

Benjamin also intruded into Miriam’s thoughts at night as she wistfully contemplated Judah’s sleeping form beside her. The first time she visited the
mikvah
as a married woman she felt only relief at being allowed to honor Benjamin’s memory. But a week ago, after her second visit to the
mikvah
, her emotions were tangled. Relief was still there, but rejection had crept in too.

How could Judah lie naked next to her in bed so peaceably every night? Did he find her unattractive, undesirable? Miriam thought of Ben Azzai and wondered if her husband had deliberately married a woman he didn’t find appealing so he could study Torah without distraction.

But Judah was having difficulty restraining himself. At first he slept with his wife as unaffected as he had slept with Shmuli. But as he studied Arayot with Salomon and Tractate Niddah with the merchants, he realized that, with his twentieth birthday approaching, he was married in name only. Worse yet, he was becoming attracted to some of the visiting scholars.

When another evening study session drew to a close, he wondered if he would be breaking an oath to ask Miriam not to wait much longer. He had just packed up his manuscripts when Levi, one of the younger merchants, approached him. Judah recognized him as one of the more flirtatious of his fellows. A clever scholar with curling auburn locks and a ready grin, it was no wonder he was so popular.

“I appreciated how you explained that passage at the end of the third chapter.” Levi threw his arm around Judah’s shoulders and quoted the Gemara.

“As you enlightened us,” Levi said, squeezing Judah tighter, “the unmarried man searches for a bride because the Holy One took a rib from the first man to create Eve, and thus men seek the rib that Adam lost so long ago. As for the second question, I did not understand until today that it refers to how a man lies with a woman. Thus a man faces down, toward the earth from which he was formed, while a woman, made from man’s rib, faces him.”

Levi’s voice dropped and he whispered to Judah, “And thus two men both face downward when they lie together.”

Judah was speechless, but his body betrayed him with a sudden tightening in his loins. Before he could think of a response, Levi, recognizing the answering warmth in Judah’s face, added suggestively, “Perhaps you’d like to resume this discussion at my lodgings. There are some other passages we might explore together.”

Judah’s consternation must have been obvious, because another merchant burst out laughing. “You’re wasting your time on this one, Levi. He can’t play the game—he lives here in Troyes. He’s the rosh yeshiva’s new son-in-law.”

Levi smiled ruefully and apologized. “A thousand pardons,
mon ami
. I’ve never seen you at the fair before and assumed you were a visitor as well. I don’t suppose you have any opportunity to travel?” he asked hopefully.

Judah could only shake his head. Levi loosed his hold on Judah’s shoulders and grinned. “Newly married, eh? You’d better be getting back to your wife’s bed and let her appreciate your beauty.”

Emotions in turmoil, Judah headed home. Miriam was surprised to see him so early—as the fair drew to a close Papa and Meir stayed up studying even later. She sensed that something was wrong, which her husband’s words confirmed.

“Miriam, uh, I need to speak with you.” Judah struggled to find the right words. “I know I promised to let you mourn as long as you wanted, but, uh ... I’ll be twenty soon, and ... I don’t want my bones blasted for remaining ... celibate.”

“You mean tonight?!” she blurted out, her fear still stronger than her need for affection.

Judah wondered for the first time if he should have married one of those women who had gazed at him so lustfully in Paris. “I suppose we can wait a few days more until the Sabbath,” he said. “I expect that you remember the part in Tractate Ketubot, where Rav Yehudah says that a Torah scholar should be intimate with his wife weekly, from Erev Shabbat to Erev Shabbat.”

Miriam let out a relieved sigh. “I have studied that text. Papa teaches that Sabbath eve is the appropriate night for enjoyment, relaxation, and physical pleasure. Besides, scholars usually study late on other nights.”

If Judah wanted to use the bed once a week, it was fine with her. Yet she knew very well that Meir, who was just as pious a scholar, was intimate with Joheved far more often. It was no secret that Joheved was pregnant again, even before her son’s third birthday. And if Miriam wanted children, there was no way around it.

They spent some time discussing that day’s Talmud lesson before going to bed. Miriam, now discouraged that Judah hadn’t offered to kiss her good night, scolded herself for vacillating between her deceased husband and her living one. It took her a while to fall asleep, and then something woke her.

Like other midwives, Miriam slept lightly, and she listened carefully for voices below. But the only thing she heard was Judah whispering the anti-demonic Ninety-first Psalm, and she concluded that he must have awakened from a nightmare. She was trying to relax back into slumber when she felt his hand on her naked shoulder. It was the first time he’d touched her since they were married.

“Miriam?” His voice, though soft, was ragged with emotion.

“What’s wrong?”

“Lillit visited me tonight, just a little while ago.”

“Oh
non
!” Miriam was frightened and mortified: frightened because any demon children Judah fathered with Lillit might claim a portion of their inheritance from his human heirs when he died and mortified because it was her delay that had left him vulnerable to Lillit’s attack. “Did she ... I mean, did you?”

“
Non
, I woke up just in time.” Aroused almost to the brink of orgasm and suddenly aware of how soft his wife’s bare skin felt, Judah wasn’t sure how to communicate his need to her.

“Thank Heaven you were strong enough to resist her.” Miriam was conscious of Judah’s hand, slowly moving down her shoulder and across her back.

“Just barely.” He silently caressed her back as he mustered his courage. “Miriam, I can’t wait until Shabbat, not the way Lillit left me feeling.” There, he’d said it.

“Of course not.” Miriam took a deep breath. “I’ve been terribly selfish, thinking only of my needs and ignoring yours.”

She turned around and kissed him. It wasn’t as exciting as kissing Benjamin, but it was nice. Scolding herself for thinking of another man at such a time, she tried to respond more ardently to her husband’s efforts.

Judah didn’t need anything else to arouse his desire; the pressure of her warm flesh against his was more than enough. He sensed Miriam’s enjoyment and, hoping to give his wife more pleasure, delayed his entry as long as he could. His
yetzer hara
, free from restraint for the first time in his life, reveled in the sensation of her naked belly pressed against the most sensitive portion of his anatomy. Without volition, his hands found her buttocks and pulled her tightly against him. It was impossible for Miriam to kiss him and remain immobile, and her slightest movement filled him with exquisite agitation.

Suddenly aware that he was approaching the verge, he managed to roll Miriam onto her back while they were kissing. Then he released her only long enough to gasp, “Please, I can’t last any longer.”

Miriam spread her legs and lifted her hips to make it easier for him. He fumbled a bit at the opening to her womb, but eventually she felt his erection between her lower lips. Recalling how Rivka had begged him to be gentle, Judah probed lightly and halted at her virginity’s obstacle.

Miriam held her breath and braced herself for the pain that would come next. But there was none.

Judah was so aroused that just feeling the tip of his manhood enveloped by her warmth was enough to push him over the edge. Before he could decide how much force to exert, a spasm of unimaginable pleasure overcame him, and he spilled out his seed at the entrance of his wife’s womb.

“
Merci
, that was wonderful,” he whispered. He kissed her briefly and lay back beside her. “Now we are truly married.”

Snuggled in her husband’s arms, her mind racing, Miriam couldn’t believe that it was over so soon. She had enjoyed the hugging and kissing, and was greatly relieved at her lack of pain, but from what her older sister had told her, the holy deed took longer than this. Judah probably finished so soon because Lillit had already aroused him, she told herself. Next time he’d take longer.
And next time it would hurt.

O
ver the next six months, Judah and Miriam’s marital relations continued to be almost identical to their first coupling. Kissing her until he was so aroused he couldn’t stand it, Judah would enter only as far as her virginity allowed before the tightness of her nether lips brought him such rapture that he climaxed almost immediately. In his naïveté, Judah accepted his experience as normal.

Miriam wasn’t so sure, and recalling a Talmud text that described how long a mar man must be alone with her lover to be suspected of adultery, she searched Tractate Sotah and found what she wanted on the fourth page.

Reassured that she and Judah took at least as long as Rav Yehoshua (Papa explained that each rabbi gave as example the amount of time he personally took with his wife), Miriam assumed that her hymen had been broken too gently to be painful.

 

Joheved stood outside the manor’s kitchen door and scanned the cloudy February sky. “Do you think they’ll come tonight, Marona? It’s barely snowing now.”

“It looks like the storm’s over, but, remember, it’s been snowing all week and we have no idea how high the drifts are.” Marona observed her daughter-in-law’s disappointment and added, “Still, the carts have likely worn a decent path between Ramerupt and Troyes today.”

“We have at least an hour until sunset.” Miriam hoped Judah would make the trip for Shabbat. Between the snow and being
niddah
, she hadn’t seen him for almost three weeks.

“The shepherds and I can handle the few ewes that go into labor tonight,” Marona said with an encouraging smile. “You two go upstairs and get ready for your husbands.”

As they changed clothes and helped each other with their hair, Miriam wondered if their mother had forgiven Rachel yet for thrusting them back into poverty. After a disappointing Hanukkah, when the vintage proved to be merely adequate, the atmosphere at home had become so unpleasant that she and Joheved jumped to help with the lambing at Ramerupt. Miriam told Meir not to worry about Joheved’s pregnancy. With her and Marona in attendance, Joheved would be surrounded by experienced midwives. Distracted, wondering when she would become pregnant herself, Miriam didn’t recognize the men’s voices downstairs until Joheved darted for the door.

Once seated around Marona’s table, Joheved’s concerns were focused on the vineyard’s fruitfulness. “Is the pruning on schedule, Meir? Does Papa have enough workers who know what they’re doing? Maybe I should go back and help.”

“The pruning can manage without you,” Miriam interrupted. “You shouldn’t be walking back and forth to the vineyard in your condition, not in this cold weather.”

“Don’t worry,” Meir said. “Both Baruch and Rachel spend nearly all day pruning the vines. Which means that Eliezer is putting in a fair amount of time there as well.”

“Rachel spends all day in the vineyard?” Miriam asked.

“I suspect she is still trying to avoid your mother,” Judah said. “Whatever the reason, Papa is delighted with her company.”

Miriam glanced at Joheved, Meir’s hand resting protectively on her bulging belly, and sighed.

“What’s the matter, dear?” Marona asked.

Miriam quickly tried to think of something to say. “I was just thinking about poor Shemayah. Is he any better?”

“Shemayah?” asked Samuel. “Is he the student who pines for your little sister? I can’t keep these boys’ names straight.”

“You’re thinking of Eliezer, Papa; that’s his father’s name too,” Meir replied. “This Shemayah is my study partner.”

What could he say about Shemayah? Splendid company as long as the topic was Torah, the man was a complainer. Everything irritated him; students who forgot their lessons, pigs that overran the city streets, the tanneries’ stench, his in-laws, and especially his wife, Brunetta.