Rashi's Daughters, Book II: Miriam (25 page)

And what a banquet it was. He nodded his head in approval as he surveyed Samuel’s main hall: Garlands of flowers hung from the rafters and around the three large, arched windows. The great room was further illuminated by the twin hearths burning brightly along with dozens of oil lamps. Tables were set up throughout the hall, all covered with clean white cloths and those near the main hearth set with silver plates and goblets.

It was a magnificent feast, even if the main dishes were restricted to fish and fowl. There were fishes of every variety, baked and boiled with pepper, garlic, and other savory spices, not to mention the fish soups; birds Salomon had never eaten before, like crane and stork, as well as a noble peacock served with its tail spread wide behind it. There was even a great molded lion, made of white chicken and pink jelly.

And piled high on their platters were the pastries, all kinds of fish tarts and pies containing small birds like quail, partridge, or pigeon. Each course was more succulent than the last, and each was followed by various amusements. Musicians, jugglers, acrobats, jongleurs, all the entertainers who had wintered with Count André were eager to gladden the hearts of Lord Samuel’s guests.

Determined to give an impressive
drash
, one appropriate for Notzrim, Salomon decided to teach about Noah’s Ark. Surely even the most ignorant of Count André’s court would be familiar with that subject. Slowly he went through the text, focusing on some of the anomalies his daughters and students had noticed.

“Were all the people so wicked that they deserved to be destroyed, even the little children?” Surely his compassionate daughter, Miriam, had asked about this. “Whenever you find a society of lewdness, idolatry, robbery, and corruption, punishment of an indiscriminate nature comes, killing both the guilty and innocent.” Salomon was gratified to see many members of the court nodding their heads sadly.

“There are many ways the Almighty could have saved Noah; why did He burden him with constructing an ark?” He recalled Joheved asking that question. “So the wicked men might see him building the ark and ask about it, and thus confronted with their impending destruction, perhaps they would repent.”

Of course all the Jews were paying close attention, but now many of the Edomites had quieted to hear him better.

“It rained for forty days and forty nights, but how long did Noah and all the animals stay in the ark altogether?” A student who’d actually begun to think about the text usually asked about this. “The rain began to fall on the seventeenth day of the second month, and one solar year later, on the twenty-seventh day of the second month, the earth had dried sufficiently that the ark’s inhabitants could leave.”

“A whole year! How could they stay on the ark so long?” Count André burst out.

Salomon smiled at the sovereign. “An excellent question. Before the flood, the Almighty made a covenant with Noah and the animals such that fruit and grain to feed them would not spoil, the carnivorous animals would not eat their vegetarian fellows, and the wombs of the females were closed so no babies would be born on the ark.”

Now Salomon had everyone’s eyes on him. “And finally, the most difficult question. How could the Almighty repent that He had made man and have it grieve His heart? Didn’t He know when He created Adam and Eve what would happen in the future?”

Salomon paused for a moment before concluding, “When a man fathers a son, he rejoices and makes others rejoice with him, even though he knows that his son will sin and some day his son will die. So too is the way of our Creator. Although it was clear to Him that in the end man would commit evil deeds and be destroyed, He still created humanity, for the sake of the righteous who were to issue from them.”

With the room’s applause in his ears, Salomon took a long drink of wine, bowed to Samuel and Count André, and with great relief, sat down to enjoy his meal.

Outside, the snow was melting and the meadows were green with new grass. Yeshiva students vied with the castle’s squires at foot races, ball games, and throwing contests. Indoors, two distinguished men sat at Marona’s chessboard, surrounded by an excited crowd whispering wagers. And there was dancing. Women and men dressed in their finest woolens and silks, their jewels catching the light, swayed and turned with the music.

The proud parents wore their blue wedding silks, with Meir laughingly admitting that his
bliaut
needed to be widened almost as much as Joheved’s. With none of his relatives in attendance, Judah had no need to wear red, so he and Miriam wore their betrothal clothing—she in the gold silk outfit that Marona had given her, and he in purple. Moses, the doctor, was resplendent in dark blue, darting here and there, advising his many patients on what food they should consume or avoid according to their various diagnoses.

Rachel grudgingly wore the mottled blue wool that Miriam had bought everyone at the Hot Fair, but she still drew every male eye to her. Eliezer watched in anguished fury as man after man showered attention on her, and he swore that by summer’s end she’d be legally his.

 

The next morning it was time for farewells. The yeshiva students would start heading home for Passover, with those who lived at a distance, like Eliezer, leaving immediately. Alvina, hoping that Miriam would be pregnant, had discouraged Judah from coming to Paris for the festival; she would visit them in the summer. With the lamb buyers arriving soon, Meir and Joheved were remaining in Ramerupt.

“Since we had such an excellent time last year,” Marona gushed to Salomon and Moses. “You must all come and spend Passover with us again.”

The only person not looking forward to the holiday was Shemayah. Every Jew who could possibly get home for Passover was endeavoring to do so, but he could not contemplate observing the holiday in either Troyes or Provins. Expecting his source of funds to be cut off, he was overcome with remorse when the moneylender who held his father-in-law’s letter of credit paid out his stipend as usual.

Upon returning to Salomon’s, he discovered his teacher filled with indignation, furiously waving a piece of parchment. Salomon’s gaze never left his face as he ordered, “Judah, call in our remaining students. Shemayah, you especially should listen to this.” He began to read the letter in his hand.

“A man’s wife presses charges against him for driving her out of his house, and for not fulfilling his duties toward her. But the husband claims that he acted within the law because he married her under erroneous assumptions. He says that she has been afflicted with leprosy, the evidence clearly visible on her face. He further claims that even before the marriage she felt the presence of the disease, but when he married her, he was not aware of these secret defects. Thus the marriage is invalid and she is not entitled to her
ketubah
.”

Salomon made sure he had everyone’s attention. “The wife, however, claims that she was in perfect health at her marriage, that even now her body is clear of blemishes except for two warts that have grown on her face due to the aggravation she has suffered from her husband. Members of the community testify that they have known the husband for years and never heard him complain about his wife’s skin disease before; also that the husband’s claim that lepers are prepared to receive his wife is a brazen lie, a rumor that he himself has spread.”

Salomon strode angrily around the room, muttering under his breath. Shemayah felt his throat tighten; these circumstances were too close for comfort. What would his teacher decide? Salomon began his reply without consulting his advanced students. “Since no signs of blemish were detected on the woman while she lived in her father’s house, and only appeared after she entered her husband’s home, he may not claim that she had hidden blemishes when he married her.”

Salomon took a deep breath, and then shook his head in disgust. “Indeed the husband has proved himself guilty of evil practices. He has shown that he is not of the seed of Abraham our father, whose nature it was to have pity and love for his fellows, especially so for his own flesh with whom he entered the covenant of marriage. This man should have set his mind on bringing his wife closer to himself, instead of rejecting her.”

His students shrank back at his vehemence, but once started on his tirade, Salomon was not going to stop until he’d said everything he needed to say. “Even among those who deny the existence of the Almighty, we find many who do not alienate their wives. Yet this man repudiated holy matrimony as evidenced by the abominable calumnies he raised against the wife of his youth. It is only just, and so the law requires, that he must divorce her and pay her
ketubah
in full.”

Salomon’s voiced softened, and Shemayah felt sure his teacher was speaking to him in particular. “But it would be much better if he would receive his wife back with affection and love; for then he might be privileged to receive Heavenly mercy and be redeemed, and have children by her.”

“That’s a strong answer, Papa,” Judah said. “Perhaps you should wait and write your response when you feel calmer.”

“I assure you that time will not cool my outrage,” Salomon replied. “How dare he treat a daughter of Israel so callously?”

Salomon then beckoned Shemayah to follow him. “Judah, could you please help our remaining students with their lessons while I speak with Shemayah privately?”

After the room emptied, Shemayah’s stomach clenched when Salomon picked up another piece of parchment.

“And how shall we solve this woman’s problem?” Salomon began. “The wife claims that her husband, a
chacham
who studies at a yeshiva less than one day’s ride from home, has not visited her or even contacted her since their son died some months ago. Witnesses testify that he is neither ill nor incapacitated, and that he continues to receive support from his father-in-law.”

Shemayah was unable to speak, his throat tight with panic. Salomon continued, “The husband who behaves thus toward the wife of his youth does not deserve to be called a
chacham
, and his fellow students should be ashamed to associate with him. Like the evil man we just heard about, if this husband cannot receive his wife back with honor and affection, he should divorce her.”

“My son, you’re trembling.” Salomon poured out a cup of wine. “Here, have a drink.”

As Salomon waited for Shemayah to finish, he spoke in a conversational tone. “During the fifteen years I studied in the Rhineland, I always managed to get home for the three festivals. In fact, when someone there asked me a question about their holiday liturgy, I had to admit ignorance, for I never attended a festival service in either Mayence or Worms.”

Just as casually, Salomon stroked his beard. “So Shemayah, what are your plans for Passover?”

“I don’t know.” His voice was shaking.

“Let me make two suggestions,” Salomon said. “You can go back to Provins and celebrate Passover with your family, or ...” He paused and placed the parchment on the table. It was blank. The two men locked eyes, and Salomon continued very softly, “Or I can call Judah back in here, and you can write your wife a
get
of divorce in front of us.”

Shemayah suddenly felt as if he had dropped an enormous weight he’d been carrying. “I’m going to Provins, of course.” Then his face clouded. “If they’ll have me.”

“I’m sure they’ll be delighted to see you.” Salomon patted his student’s shoulder and added, “But just in case, I suggest you bring your wife a present, perhaps something from Avram.”

A
sher, I have nothing against your brother. Eliezer is one of my finest students. And your father’s offer is tempting.” Salomon was trying to be diplomatic. “But I cannot give Rachel in marriage to a man for whom she has such a manifest disaffection.”

“There’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

Salomon shook his head and ushered the two young men out. Rivka would be furious to learn that he turned down this opportunity to pay off their debts. He sighed and returned to the text he was preparing.

As soon as the door closed, Eliezer burst out, “Belle Assez doesn’t hate me. I know it.” He still called her by the nickname his brother had given her years ago.

“Unfortunately her father disagrees,” Asher said glumly. “We should have waited for Papa to get here; he never fails to close a deal.”

“But who knows how long he’ll have to wait for that ship to arrive from Bavel?” Eliezer needed to argue with somebody, and his brother was the only available target. “We had to talk with Rabbenu Salomon before anyone else approached him.”

“We talked to him all right, for all the good it did you,” Asher said. “Now I have business to attend to.”

Reluctant to encounter anyone, Eliezer stomped off toward the privy. This had to be Belle Assez’s doing. Probably in a fit of pique sometime, she’d told Salomon that she hated him. Well, he wasn’t going to let the little witch torture him any longer. As soon as his father arrived, he’d have him arrange another match, to be consummated as soon as possible. He’d show her.

Eliezer had nearly turned the corner when he heard somebody coming out of the privy, so he ducked behind the cellar door. But the Creator must have a sense of humor, he thought in annoyance, because the last person he wanted to see was about to walk past him.

“Belle Assez, I have something important to say to you.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her out of view behind the house.

“Let go of me.”

He forced her to face him. “What the devil made you tell your father you disliked me?”

“What are you talking about? I’ve never said anything of the kind.”
Mon Dieu, he’s having delusions.
“In fact, I’ve never discussed you with my father at all.”

Maybe he’d been out in the sun too long and gotten possessed by the heat demon, Keteb Meriri. Mama was always warning her to stay indoors in midafternoon, especially during the month of Tammuz when the demon was most active. “Eliezer, you’re not well. Come into the cellar and cool off.”