Rashi's Daughters, Book II: Miriam (27 page)

“The way he offered his father’s help so promptly when she lost that ring last summer,” Rivka added.

“All right.” He threw up his hands in defeat. “She can marry him. But no legal betrothal, just an engagement, and that’s only after I’ve reached an agreement with Shemiah. After what happened to Miriam, I will follow the Italian tradition—
erusin
and
nisuin
performed together, at the wedding.”

“
Merci
, Papa.” Rachel threw her arms around him. “I don’t care whether it’s an engagement or a betrothal, as long as we have a feast to celebrate and I get a new silk
bliaut
.”

Joheved smiled with excitement. “We could have the banquet on the Fifteenth of Av.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if we had it earlier, while the moon is still waxing?” Rivka asked. Due to the lunar calendar, the moon was always full on the fifteenth day of a Jewish month.

“But the fifteenth day of Av is when all the maidens of Jerusalem went out dressed in white to dance in the vineyards, inviting the young men to court them,” Joheved explained.

It says so in Tractate Taanit.”

“But why the Fifteenth of Av, Papa?” Rachel asked. She hadn’t studied Tractate Taanit yet.

“While the Israelites wandered in the desert, waiting for the generation of Egypt to die out so they could enter the Promised Land, people didn’t get sick and die throughout the year like they do now,” Salomon said. “Once a year, on the Ninth of Av, everyone dug a grave and slept in it. The next day they’d discover that one fortieth of them had died during the night.”

“No wonder the Ninth of Av is a day of mourning,” Rachel said, her eyes wide. “But what about the fifteenth?”

“After forty years of wandering, the Israelites dug graves like usual on the Ninth of Av. But everyone was still alive in the morning. Thinking they had miscalculated the calendar, they slept in their graves the next night and again nobody died,” he said. “They did the same thing each night until the fifteenth. With the moon full, they realized that the evil ninth day had passed and they were finally worthy to enter the Land. So they declared the fifteenth a festival.”

Salomon turned to his wife. “At least the full moon is not a waning moon, and Shemiah will surely have arrived by the Fifteenth of Av.”

It was strange preparing for an unofficial betrothal feast, especially one so unofficial that the groom’s father hadn’t agreed to it yet. But Asher had Shemiah’s letters of credit, and he set to work making the arrangements, including a visit to Avram to retire Salomon’s debt and one to the cloth fair to purchase a suitable length of emerald green silk brocade, the same shade as Rachel’s eyes.

 

Miriam tried to share the enthusiasm of her mother and sisters, but Rachel’s love match only brought back more memories of Benjamin.
How could it be seven years since our betrothal?
If that wasn’t enough to dampen her spirits, she was surrounded by babies. Each birth she attended was a stabbing reminder that she and Judah had been intimate for almost a year and she still wasn’t pregnant.

At home, watching Joheved nurse little Samuel or Anna hold her baby daughter, Miriam was filled with a bitterness she couldn’t dispel, as though she had swallowed something rotten. Even the animals seemed determine to taunt her, as litters of kittens roamed the courtyard.

Miriam was not the only one dismayed by her barrenness. When Alvina arrived in Troyes, she was pleased that Miriam would stay up until Judah and the other men returned from the study hall. To make the wait less lonely, Alvina would join her in a game of chess.

But as the Hot Fair waned, Judah began coming home later and later, and eventually the two women found themselves giving up and going to bed. Even worse, Miriam was called to check her patients at least weekly, often not coming home until morning.

Alvina said nothing untoward, but her frustration grew. Finally, one night when the Matins bells chimed and Miriam leaned over to blow out the lamp, her mother-in-law stopped her and, in a firm voice, declared that she would wait until her son returned, even if she had to stay awake until the sun rose.

It was shortly after Lauds when an exhausted but exhilarated Judah bid Salomon good night and quietly let himself into his house, only to find his mother waiting up for him. Miriam groggily heard the men’s voices outside and awoke completely as soon as she heard Alvina speak.

“What do you mean by letting your wife go to bed by herself when she’s not
niddah
?” Alvina was trying to whisper, but her voice was loud enough for Miriam to hear. “I’ve been waiting over a year for a grandchild, and I don’t want to wait forever.”

Miriam couldn’t make out Judah’s reply, but Alvina’s next words were quite clear. “At first I thought it was your flat-chested wife’s fault, that you should have married someone more womanly, but now I see that the fault is yours.” Before her son could say anything, she continued, “If you cannot bring yourself to sleep with your wife, you should divorce her and marry one you find more attractive.”

This demand brought an audible response. “I find my wife very attractive; in fact, we are perfectly compatible. But I am a scholar and during the Hot Fair ...” His voice lowered and Miriam lost the rest of his defense. She strained to hear them both, unsure of whose side she supported.

Whatever Judah said apparently did not mollify his mother. “Meir and Shemayah can stay up as late as they like; Meir has a newborn and Shemayah’s wife is pregnant.”

Again the conversation became too quiet to hear, but eventually Alvina gave her son an ultimatum. “All right then, wait until the Hot Fair is finished and you feel rested. But I still want you to consult with Azariel. He’s had no trouble getting his wife with child.”

Judah was halfway up the stairs at this point, so Miriam clearly heard his irate reply. “Since you insist, I’ll speak to him. Now
bonne nuite
, Mama!”

Miriam could feel him trembling once he got into bed, although she didn’t know if it was with anger or humiliation. Embarrassed by the ribald songs and stories that most Frenchmen enjoyed, he would surely find discussing his own marital intimacies mortifying, even with his brother.

But if he was going to consult Azariel, perhaps she ought to consult Aunt Sarah. After all, who knew more about pregnancy? But in the morning Miriam decided to wait a few days until she was due to flower. She might already be pregnant, and why trouble her aunt for nothing?

Judah, on the other hand, cornered his brother immediately after
disner.
The sooner their loathsome conversation was finished, the sooner his mother would be satisfied and he could return to his studies.

Azariel, not eager to give advice to a man so obviously reluctant to hear it, kept their discussion short. “How often do you use the bed?”

Judah expected that question. “On Friday nights and after Miriam comes back from the
mikvah
, as the Talmud recommends.”

Azariel sighed. “Once a week for scholars is the minimum. And if you want to have sons, the Sages advocate twice a night.”

“I guess we can use the bed more often,” Judah said. That should be easy enough.

But later, he wasn’t so sure. Now he didn’t have to do anything special to seduce Miriam; she expected them to be intimate on Erev Shabbat. More frequent relations would require him to take the initiative. And there was another potential problem. His wife was a demure and pious woman; what if she didn’t want to use the bed more often?

Judah decided that it might be better if he waited, not only for the Hot Fair to finish, but until the end of Elul as well. He could scarcely expect to have the strength to lie with his wife twice a night while he was also getting up at midnight and before dawn for penitential prayers, not to mention spending his days treading grapes to help Salomon make wine. It would be best to wait until after Yom Kippur.

When Miriam flowered on the twelfth of Av, she too chose to delay matters. She’d wait until Elul to talk to Aunt Sarah, especially since her family was so busy arranging for Rachel’s engagement feast.

E
liezer was furious to learn that he and Rachel would merely be engaged, not betrothed. He wanted a union that couldn’t be broken if his fiancée had a fit of pique. But then his father, Shemiah, arrived, and with him a gift for Salomon that guaranteed their contract would not be breached. The students milled around excitedly as Shemiah untied ropes, unfastened locks, and finally opened the first chest. There had been a few discreet wagers placed on what treasure they contained, but nobody was prepared for what they saw.

The chest was full of books, covers embossed with Hebrew letters. Salomon picked one up, gently peeked inside, and exhaled in awe. It was a tractate of Talmud, written by a master scribe, and the other boxes surely contained the tractates that completed the set. These chests could not have been more valuable if they had been filled with gold, or with pepper.

“They’re from Bavel,” Shemiah said, beaming with pride as Meir and Judah stepped forward to examine them.

Joheved watched her father’s eyes glitter with desire. “I think Papa feels the same about those books as Eliezer feels about our sister,” she whispered to Miriam.

Miriam nodded in agreement. “Papa will never let Rachel change her mind. He’d have to give them back.”

Rachel’s feelings warred within her. How could she not feel flattered at such a valuable betrothal gift? Then she noticed the smug look on Eliezer’s face, and the trapped feeling she’d felt when he first kissed her welled up in her. She knew what he was thinking—he owned her now; her father had just sold her for the price of a set of Talmud.

Eliezer saw the scowl on her face and read her thoughts as easily as she read his. With a grin, he pulled a small bag from his sleeve and offered it to her. Rachel wanted to throw it back in his insufferable face, but she smiled graciously and reached inside. Her smile took on real warmth as she pulled out the red coral necklace she’d been forced to surrender last summer.

“Allow me.” He fastened it around her neck, at the same time caressing her skin in a way that sent shivers down her back. Then, just before she put the bag away, he asked her, “Are you sure it’s empty?”

Indeed, there was something at the bottom, something that turned out to be an exquisite emerald and diamond brooch. “For you to wear at our engagement banquet, along with these.” He produced another bag that held the matching earrings.

Reluctant to publicly kiss his palm in gratitude, she stood in flustered silence until Rivka whispered, “Rachel, where are your manners?”

“Oh
non
, it is I who should be thanking her,” Eliezer replied, as charming as only he could be.

He bent down to kiss her hand, and again Rachel felt shivers at his touch. I will not give in to him, she told herself. We will see who ends up owning whom.

 

When Miriam found herself
niddah
again, she consulted Aunt Sarah and was quickly informed of the difficulty.

“I’m still intact?” Miriam sputtered. “How can that be? Judah and I use the bed every week when I’m clean.”

“There’s no doubt, dear. In spite of whatever you and Judah are doing, you are still a virgin.” Sarah smiled at her niece’s innocence. “Don’t worry, I can cure you with a sharp knife.”

Miriam couldn’t look Aunt Sarah in the eye, she was so embarrassed. “I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not the first woman I’ve seen with this problem. Pious yeshiva students seem to think that everything they need to know is in the Talmud.” Sarah waited for Miriam to look at her. “Do you regret marrying Judah? If so, you shouldn’t have any trouble getting a divorce.”

Miriam gulped. Ask Judah for a divorce? “He’s not Benjamin, but I’m not sorry I married him.”

“Yet.” Sarah hesitated and then added, “It took three years before I regretted marrying Levi.”

“What was the matter with him?” Maybe it had taken Aunt Sarah even longer to get pregnant.

“Levi would stay out late gambling, and losing, whenever he got the chance.” Sarah grimaced at the memory. “If I hadn’t been such a popular midwife, we would have starved.”

“Judah stays out late, but he’s studying,” Miriam said. According to the family accounts, he rarely spent any money.

“Whatever Judah is doing at night, it’s not what he needs to do to get you pregnant.”

“So, what should I do?”

“When a woman complains to me that her husband’s ardor has flagged, I recommend a potion to strengthen his
yetzer hara
.”

“Really? What’s in it?”

“It’s called cantharides. It’s made from a beetle that lives near the Mediterranean Sea, and its effect is equally powerful for men and women,” Sarah explained. “The wife puts a small amount in a cup of wine—too much is dangerous—and the husband drinks it at bedtime.”

“And then?” Miriam asked, her eyes wide.

“He is soon seized with insatiable desire, and his wife will find him eager to perform the holy deed many times.” Sarah smiled benignly at Miriam. Her niece would not remain barren for lack of trying. “Under its influence, even the greatest scholar will be quite unable to subdue his
yetzer
.”

Miriam couldn’t imagine Judah in such a state. Or herself, for that matter. “Does the wife drink some as well, so her passion matches his?”

“Perhaps a small amount,” Sarah warned her.

Miriam swallowed hard. “Supposing, just supposing, that I agree to this treatment. When would be the best time?” Maybe she should just have Sarah open her and that would be enough.

“The best time to open you would be when you have your flowers. You wouldn’t notice the extra blood, and it would give you time to heal,” Sarah said. “As for the potion, I’d advise using it when you return from the
mikvah
.”