Rashi's Daughters, Book II: Miriam (40 page)

By the time Rachel had been married a week, even those merchants who had never visited Troyes before knew that the
mohelet
-in-training was the rosh yeshiva’s daughter, forcing those who studied with Salomon to modify their tactics. These men challenged the local community: how could it be that in Troyes, with over a hundred Jewish families and its own yeshiva, the mohel could not find a single male apprentice?

Judah in particular became an object of criticism. Meir’s clumsiness was an insurmountable obstacle, but a scholar as pious as Judah should overcome his squeamishness rather than let his wife shame the town by proving that not a man among them was willing to undertake this essential mitzvah. Jewish law may allow a woman to perform
milah
when no man is available, but tradition demands that circumcision be a man’s duty.

Three weeks later, Rachel further flouted tradition by announcing to her family how pleased she was that her flowers had not returned to trouble her. At Rosh Hashanah, she made sure that the entire women’s gallery, and especially Fleur, heard her complain how nauseous she felt every afternoon.

Miriam gave silent thanks that her little sister hadn’t provoked the Evil Eye by announcing that, should the child be a boy, she would be doing the circumcision.

J
oheved leaned back into a pile of straw and pushed the hair from her eyes. “I appreciate your missing Purim in Troyes to help us with the lambing, Miriam. Each year it gets more difficult for Marona.”

“I don’t mind. Judah doesn’t like Purim much after all.”

Miriam gazed around the barn, crowded with sheep and newborn lambs, and smiled with satisfaction. There were only a few pregnant ewes left, and at the moment none of them needed attention. Joheved signaled to one of the milkmaids, who brought over a plate of bread and cheese, and a flask of ale.

She drank deeply and yawned. “I don’t understand why I’m so tired.” She stifled another yawn. “It’s only an hour past sunset, and, thanks to you, I got plenty of sleep last night.”

“Maybe you’re enceinte again.”

“How could I be?” Joheved stared up at her sister in disbelief. “Hannah is still nursing and my flowers haven’t come back yet.”

“If you think you’re pregnant again too soon, I can give you some herbs to bring on your flowers.”

Miriam ruefully recalled the lady-in-waiting from Ramerupt who had come to her for that very thing during the Cold Fair. She had wanted to warn Rosaline that it might be too late for the herbs to work, but the next step would have been a pessary, and no price would be worth the risk of inducing an abortion in such a prominent Edomite.

Joheved paused to consider her situation. “
Non
, I can manage two babies so close in age,” she said with a small smile. “Speaking of pregnancy, Rachel looks due any day now.”

Miriam shook her head. “More like next month, I think.”

Joheved helped herself to some bread. “Just as long as she doesn’t give birth the week before Passover.”

“You mean just as long as she doesn’t have a boy the week before Passover,” Miriam corrected her. Nobody wanted a
brit milah
feast when bread and cakes were forbidden.

Both women were silent, trying to recall if they’d ever attended such a banquet during Passover.

“Are you really going to do the circumcision if she has a boy?” Joheved asked. “Rachel certainly thinks so, and Eliezer hasn’t contradicted her.”

Miriam took a deep breath. “I’m not sure I’m ready.”

“But I saw you at the grape harvest. You could cut off a grape’s skin without spilling any juice at all,” Joheved said. “And you always slaughter a chicken with one quick cut, like you’re supposed to.”

“I need to practice cutting off the shreds first.”

“The shreds?”

“If you were to watch a
milah
closely, which most people don’t,” Miriam said with a grin, “you’d see that the mohel doesn’t always remove the entire foreskin with one cut. Sometimes there are shreds of skin left that have to be cut off later.”

“Another task for the apprentice?” Joheved asked.

Miriam nodded. “One I haven’t done yet. Only a couple of boys were born after the Hot Fair ended, and there weren’t enough shreds left on them.”

“Avram probably didn’t want you doing your first real cutting during the Cold Fair either.”

“Which was fine with me.” Miriam nibbled on some cheese. “When you and I were starting to study Talmud, we could keep it a secret. Even now most people don’t know how learned we are, or that we wear tefillin. But being a
mohelet
is different.
Milah
is done in public; even the training is public.”

“You must have been disappointed when so many of the people who supported you during the fairs changed their tune,” Joheved said. “I certainly was.”

“Maybe a little, but not surprised,” Miriam replied. “We may quarrel amongst ourselves over my fitness to do
milah
, but let the foreign merchants condemn me and the Jews of Troyes will rally to my defense.”

Joheved pursed her lips. “Only to return to their previous opinions as soon as the merchants leave.”

“Hopefully I kept a few supporters.”

Again conversation lapsed as each sister wondered how long it would take the Jews of Troyes to accept a woman mohel, if ever.

“Speaking of the Cold Fair, did you see Rachel’s fancy birth amulet?” Joheved asked. “She told me a new scribe named Mordecai made it for her.”

“
Oui
. I was with her when he wrote it,” Miriam replied. “The man seemed knowledgeable. He insisted that we come back later when the stars were propitious, that there were only a few hours during the week when amulets may be written.”

Besides quoting Psalm 126, the amulet called upon the great, mighty, and awesome God, Adonai Zevaot is His Name, and the three angels, Sanvi, Sansanvi, and Semangelaf, in the name of Shaddai, Creator of heaven and earth, to protect Rachel daughter of Rivka in all of her 248 organs, to help, deliver, save, and rescue her from evil spirits; that all who seek her harm be humbled, destroyed, afflicted, and overthrown. The back of the parchment was decorated with pentagrams, hexagrams, and various other geometric forms.

Joheved poured them another cup of ale. “I wonder where you learn how to make amulets.”

“It’s probably like becoming a mohel,” Miriam said. “You train with an expert.”

“Do you think they let women do it?”

“If it’s anything like writing a mezuzah or a Torah scroll, probably not.” Miriam took a long drink of ale and handed the cup to Joheved. “I’ve never seen a woman write one.”

Joheved had no sooner finished her drink than there was a commotion at the door and Meir burst in, his gaze darting around the room.

Relief lessened his expression of anxiety when he saw Joheved and Miriam. “Thank Heaven you’re both here,” he said between gasps. His face was shining and his chemise was damp with sweat. “You’ve got to come back to Troyes right away.”

Miriam stood up. “What’s the matter? Is it Rachel?”

“It’s not her baby coming, if that’s what you mean.” He hurried them out into the courtyard where two horses were being saddled. “Anna’s Uncle Samson arrived late this afternoon, so exhausted he could barely stand. He stayed awake just long enough to hand Eliezer a letter and tell him he was terribly sorry to bring him such bad news.”

Meir paused to control his emotions. “The letter, from the
parnas
of Prague, said that during unusually heavy rains, a barge ferrying Shemiah and Asher capsized south of the city, drowning both of them. The Jews of Prague managed to recover their bodies and much of their merchandise.
Oui
,” he answered the unspoken question. “Both men were positively identified before they were buried.”

In unison Joheved and Miriam recited, “
Baruch Dayan Emet
.”

“Eliezer must be devastated,” Miriam added.

Joheved held up her hand to halt the servant who was eager to help her onto her horse. “I don’t want to sound callous, but Eliezer’s father and brother must have died over a month ago.” She looked up at Meir, already astride his mount. “Why can’t we wait until morning?”

“Because that idiot Eliezer insists on leaving for Prague first thing in the morning, and your stubborn sister is just as adamant that he wait until after the baby comes. She swore that if he leaves, she’s going with him!”

“Oy.” Joheved rolled her eyes and let the servant assist her.

“There’s more,” Meir said as the manor gate was closed behind them. “Your father forbid Rachel from leaving, your mother blamed him for spoiling her so she won’t listen to him or her husband, and soon the four of them were nearly hysterical. Judah and I tried to calm them, but ...” he trailed off helplessly.

“Rachel cannot travel to Prague in her condition.” Miriam’s voice was firm. “Don’t worry, we’ll find some way to make her and Eliezer see reason.”

 

Miriam entered her home to find Rachel and Eliezer, each red-eyed and sniffing back tears, staring sullenly at each other across her dining table. Judah sat forlornly between them, and he looked up hopefully as she entered.

“Thank Heaven you’re back. Maybe you can talk some sense . . .”

Eliezer interrupted before Judah could finish. His voice was hoarse. “
Oui
, maybe you can talk some sense into my crazy wife, who wants to go gallivanting through France and Allemagne when she’s due to give birth at any moment.”

“It’s you who wants to go gallivanting through France and Allemagne, no matter how foul the weather or how dangerous the roads,” Rachel shot back before dissolving into more tears.

“My father and brother are dead,” Eliezer shouted at her. “I can’t sit here waiting for a sunny day. I have to find out what happened. I have to bring their things back to my mother.” He was crying again before he’d finished saying, “my mother.”

Meir turned to Miriam and sighed. “See what I mean.”

“I’ve been trying to reason with them since Meir left,” Judah added. “Your parents gave up and went to bed hours ago.”

Eliezer put his hands on his hips. “I suggest you use your sisterly persuasion on my wife, because
I
am leaving for Prague at dawn.”

Rachel glared at him. “And I will be right behind you.”

“You will stay at home! I command it!”

Before Rachel could reply, there was a knock at the door. She quickly sat down and tried to look calm, while Eliezer seated himself next to Judah and opened the manuscript in front of them. Heaven forbid that whoever needed the midwife should see them fighting. Both of them looked pointedly away from the other as Miriam hurried to greet the late-night visitor.

But it was Samson who stood towering over them, his eyes swollen from lack of sleep. “I couldn’t help but hear that Eliezer wants to leave for Prague in the morning.” He turned to face the mourner. “I’m sorry, but that is impossible.”

“You don’t need to accompany me,” Eliezer said. “I’ll find someone else or I’ll go alone.”

“Going to Prague tomorrow
is
impossible!” Samson walked over to Eliezer and took him by the shoulders. “It was a miracle I was able to get here. Bridges are washed away, roads are too muddy for carts, and those on foot never know when their path will turn into quicksand.”

Samson faced the rest of them. “I was crossing a river by holding a rope tied between two trees on opposite banks, when all of a sudden the water level began to rise. It had reached my chin, and I was starting to say my final Shema, when the water stopped rising. A smaller man would have drowned.”

Rachel let out a moan. Eliezer was at least a cubit shorter than Samson.

“I’ll pay you whatever you want,” Eliezer began.

“No amount of money is worth my life,” Samson replied. “Nothing will make me leave for Mayence until I’m sure the rivers have receded. And that won’t be for at least a month, maybe longer.”

Eliezer’s face crumpled, and Samson put his arm around him. “But after that I’ll take you all the way to Prague, no payment necessary.”

Everyone stared at Eliezer. Would he agree?

Judah walked over and patted Eliezer’s shoulder. “My study partner may be impetuous and stubborn, but he is not a fool. And it would be beyond foolish for someone so inexperienced to travel alone to Prague before the weather improves.”

Miriam coughed delicately. “Eliezer, I hate to tempt the Evil Eye, but what if there’s a problem with Rachel or the baby, and you aren’t here?”

Both Eliezer and Rachel paled as these words sunk in. Eliezer hesitated, torn between his obligations to the living and the dead. Then he let out his breath. “I suppose I can wait until the baby comes.”

 

A few days later Miriam was asking her mother to watch her children while she took a nap, when her maidservant, Jeanne, interrupted them. “Excuse me, Mistress, there’s a client at the door who’s asking for you specifically.”

Miriam was exhausted after spending most of the last few days, and nights, assuring Rachel that the pains she felt, no matter how uncomfortable, were false labor. Each time Rachel sent for her, convinced it was the real thing this time, Miriam found her little sister’s womb still closed.

“That’s odd,” Miriam said. “None of our other patients are due to deliver.” Who would ask for her and not Aunt Sarah?

“Don’t worry about the children,” Rivka said. “I’ll look after them until you come home and have gotten some rest.”

Miriam hugged her mother good-bye and followed the unknown woman to an inn near the count’s palace. The woman knew nothing of the patient’s condition, only that she had been sent to fetch the young Jewish midwife for a lady named Rosaline.

Miriam knew something was wrong as soon as she opened the door. Trying not to gag on the stench, she made her way to the window and forced open the shutters. Rosaline groaned weakly and turned her face away from the sudden light, but not before Miriam had gotten a good look at her. If Miriam hadn’t remembered the name and red hair, she never would have recognized the lady-in-waiting from Ramerupt. Rosaline’s body was shrunken, her skin sallow, her eyes listless and unfocused.