Rashi's Daughters, Book II: Miriam (43 page)

“If it’s about what Miriam said . . .”

Elisha interrupted before Judah could apologize. “I saw the letter that Rabbenu Isaac wrote about me.”

Judah pulled Elisha into an alcove. “Don’t worry about that letter; Papa, Miriam, and I were the only ones to read it.”

“Judah, I have to tell you the truth before Yom Kippur.”

“You don’t need to confess to me. You haven’t injured me.”

“But I can’t have you thinking I’m innocent when I’m not.”

Judah’s throat tightened. “What do you mean?”

Elisha was silent for so long that Judah wondered if he should start walking again. But when Elisha did speak, Judah’s heart sank.

“It wasn’t just a rumor. My study partner and I . . .” Elisha paused, seemingly unable to find the right words. “Our friendship was carnal.” He quickly continued, “Not that we lay together, but we kissed and touched ...”

“I don’t want to hear what you did with your study partner.” Judah tried to keep his voice down. “Repent your sins to the Merciful One, not to me.”

“Now you’re angry.” Elisha’s chin began to quiver. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Judah took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. “I’m not angry with you, Elisha. Relationships between study partners ought to be close ones, and sometimes a man’s
yetzer
is too strong to control.”

Now Judah was silent. Should he tell Elisha about Daniel? Would he have sinned if circumstances had been different, if Daniel had been older and more aggressive? And what about Natan? That reminded him of the advice Reuben had given him years ago.

“Elisha, do you have a fiancée back home?”

“I’m not sure. My father was negotiating with a girl’s family, one of his cousins, but everything stopped when,” Elisha hesitated, “when the rumors started. Why do you ask?”

“I think it would be good for you to get married as soon as possible, to start using your
yetzer hara
to make sons.” Judah tried to sound encouraging. “I’m sure that when your cousin hears you teach all the Torah you’ve studied this summer, he’ll be eager for you to marry his daughter.”

“You think so?”

“Certainly,” Judah replied. “I’ll write a letter to take back to Worms, saying what a fine student you are, an asset to our yeshiva. Even better, I’ll ask Papa to write the letter. That should get the girl’s father to accept you.”

Elisha’s big brown eyes looked up at him hopefully. “You would do that for me?”

“Of course I would. You are a fine student and an asset to our yeshiva. Don’t think we haven’t noticed how you’ve argued on Miriam’s behalf with all the merchants who think she shouldn’t do circumcisions.”

“If Troyes is happy with a
mohelet
instead of a mohel, then the foreigners’ opinions shouldn’t matter.”

“I wouldn’t say that Troyes is happy about it,” Judah with a rueful smile. “But most have come to accept the situation.”

“Supporting Miriam’s position is the least I can do after all you two have done for me.”

Before he could reply, Judah was crushed by Elisha’s embrace. Judah allowed himself to return the hug before patting the boy’s shoulder a few times and slowly pulling away.

“I’ll miss you—both of you,” Elisha added quickly as they started walking again.

“We’ll miss you too.” Judah was careful to say “we” instead of “I.”

 

Miriam had no sooner said adieu to Elisha the next morning than Rachel raced in and dumped her ledgers on the table.

“I thought I’d never get these finished in time, but here they are—all my and Alvina’s accounts for the Hot Fair.” She unpinned the brooch holding her keys and handed them to Miriam. “Even with Thibault’s extra taxes, you and Judah should have plenty to live on until next summer.”

“Don’t tell me you’re leaving too.” Miriam grabbed her younger sister’s hand. “What about the Days of Awe and helping with the vintage?”

“If we leave right away, Eliezer and I can get to Arles in time for Rosh Hashanah with his mother,” Rachel replied, her speech as hurried as the rest of her. “As for the wine, Papa will have plenty of help from all those Eastern merchants who are spending the holidays in Troyes.”

Miriam could feel a lump forming in her throat. She’d squandered their summer together, sure that they’d have plenty of time to talk and study after Elisha and Eliezer were gone.

“Papa won’t be happy about it.”

“I know.” Rachel’s expression softened. “And I’ll miss him, but I can’t stay here. Eliezer would rather be discussing Jewish laws of commerce than actually engaging in it. Just between us, I’ve been handling most of the business. It’s a good thing I’ve learned so much from Alvina.”

“You sound like you enjoy it.”

“I do. I love meeting new people, visiting new places, seeing new sights.” Rachel’s eyes were shining. “We’ve traveled down rivers so swift and wide that they made our Seine look like a puddle, and we’ve crossed snow-covered mountains so tall they seemed to touch the sky. You can’t imagine what it’s like to be on a ship in the middle of the sea: water as far as you can see in every direction, and at night there are so many stars.”

Both women sighed. Miriam stood up and gave Rachel a long hug. “I’ll pray that you have a safe and successful trip.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t be gone so long this time. I want to be home for Passover.” Rachel squeezed Miriam tightly in return. “I bet you do your first
brit milah
in the spring, and I want to be here to see it.”

 

When the Cold Fair ended, Miriam felt that she had mastered
priah
,
motzitzin
,
haluk
, and cutting the shreds. But there were only two women due to deliver before Passover, and Avram would surely want to do at least one
milah
every four months. So Rachel had probably been right about spring. Miriam tucked Shimson into his cradle, then quickly got under the covers and snuggled against her husband’s warm body. Even with a brazier burning since
souper
, the room was cold.

“Miriam,” he whispered. “I’ll be at the
parnas
’s for
disner
tomorrow with Papa, Shemayah, and Meir.”

“I thought Joseph was ill.”

“
Oui
, but Papa specifically asked me to go with him.”

Miriam rolled over to face Judah.
So Papa wants to have a beit din there
. “I’ve heard rumors that Joseph wants to dispose of his property before he dies, that he intends to cheat Fleur out of her
ketubah
.”

“I’m just going to have a meal there and listen to what Joseph has to say, if anything.” Judah was still whispering, but his voice was louder.

“I wish we didn’t have to get embroiled in this. People are already upset enough with me training as a
mohelet
.”

“Miriam, if Papa wants me to witness something, I’m not going to refuse.”

“I know.” Her sigh turned into a yawn. “Maybe I’m worrying over nothing.”

“I hope so.” He gave her a hug.

Miriam lay motionless in Judah’s arms, waiting to see what he’d do next. At times Judah’s excitement with studying Talmud had spilled over into their marital bed, although, until recently, he usually limited himself to twice a week. But once he started teaching Arayot to Elisha, he’d needed to use the bed nearly every night.

Maybe today’s lesson wasn’t that exciting, or maybe he was distracted by tomorrow’s potential problems, but, whatever the reason, Judah slowly released her and settled down to sleep. Relieved rather than disappointed, Miriam tried to relax and not worry about Joseph and Fleur’s predicament.

 

Too nervous to appreciate the fine meal Isaac haParnas’s servants placed before him, Judah realized that Miriam was probably right. Joseph was too ill to come downstairs, and Fleur was conveniently away visiting friends. Besides Salomon, Meir, and Shemayah, the doctor, Moses haCohen, was also dining with them, making a beit din of five judges if necessary.

The conversation at the table wasn’t illuminating. Apparently the pope had recently died, and even Papa seemed eager to discuss the significance of this.

“So despite all his efforts to claim authority over King Henry, Gregory dies in exile while Henry’s Pope Clement rules Rome.” Isaac haParnas nodded with satisfaction.

“Not that there’s much left in Rome to rule,” the doctor said sadly. “Not after the Saracens sacked the city.”

“The Saracens?” Meir was too startled to care about appearing ignorant. “I thought the Norman army set fire to Rome.”

“The Normans started the fires,” Salomon said. “And then they and the Saracens looted Rome together.”

“Gregory was lucky to escape with his life,” Moses added.

Judah listened only out of politeness. Naturally Isaac and Moses were knowledgeable about politics. The doctor was now the court physician for the Count of Ramerupt, and one expected the
parnas
to have the latest news. But Papa?

Moses was almost finished with his tale of Gregory’s downfall. “Henry declared Gregory guilty of high treason and appointed the Archbishop of Ravenna in his place.”

Isaac haParnas chuckled. “And then there were two popes, Gregory and Clement, each seeking support from the French bishops and nobles.”

“Two popes?” Judah blurted out. “How could they have two popes? It would be like having two kings.”

“
Oui
,” Salomon said gently. “And for a while there were two kings in Allemagne, Henry and Rudolph, Pope Gregory’s man.”

That’s right
—
there were
. Judah felt like a fool for forgetting that piece of information, and he resolved to keep his mouth closed until the topic changed to Torah.

Meir lifted his wine cup in his host’s direction. “So, Isaac, now that Gregory’s dead, what do you make of his reforms? Will the liege lords give up their rights to appoint bishops?”

“And even less likely,” Moses said with a grin, “will the clergy give up their wives and mistresses?”

Isaac shrugged. “From what I’ve heard, both King Philippe and King Guillaume have officially accepted the pope’s authority, yet they continue to choose their own bishops and abbots.”

“The pope is wise not to challenge them,” Meir said. “Since it is the sovereign who orders the Church’s lands and income released to the new bishop.”

“But the clergy cannot serve two masters,” Moses said. “They either owe allegiance to the pope or to their lord.”

“And if they owe allegiance only to the pope . . .” Salomon paused and stroked his beard. “Then it follows that they should renounce their feudal lands, return their offices to the lord who granted them, and live on tithes from the faithful.”

Isaac shook his head. “That the clergy will never do.”

Judah had enough of politics. They had long ago finished eating. He thought of Elisha and his other students at home speaking words of Torah while he was wasting time here. “Can any of you tell me why any of this matters to the Jews?” he demanded suddenly.

There was silence until Isaac stood up and asked them to visit his son for a little while.

As they walked upstairs, Salomon put his arm around Judah’s shoulder. “You may think that what the pope says and does should not matter to us,” he whispered. “But if the pope does come to rule princes, then I fear that one day it could matter to the Jews. One day it could matter a great deal.”

J
udah’s heart was chilled by Salomon’s warning, and his disquiet increased when he entered the sickroom. His first thought was that they were too late, that Joseph was already dead. The once portly man was skin and bones, except for his distended belly, and his skin was a bizarre shade of yellow. As the men gathered around the bed and Joseph opened his eyes, Judah tried not to stare. For what should have been the whites of the dying man’s eyes, and Judah had no doubt that Joseph was a dying man, were yellow as a sunflower.

Isaac haParnas cleared his throat. “I appreciate you making time for my son during these short, busy winter days.”

With Moses’s help, Joseph struggled to sit up. “Salomon, you warned me to marry a woman my own age, not a young virgin, and I should have followed your advice.” He sighed. “Now, when I die, there will not be enough to pay my wife’s
ketubah
, let alone leave anything to my son Samson.”

“Most of our family’s capital belongs to me,” Isaac said quickly. “Joseph and I share the income, but by himself my son does not have the one hundred livres that Fleur’s
ketubah
obligates his estate to pay her.” Isaac fought back tears at the word “estate.”

Evidently Isaac had no intention of providing that one hundred livres himself, Judah realized, or none of them would be here now. At least Joseph was well enough to explain his problem clearly; whatever decision he made, Judah could honestly declare that the man was of sound mind at the time.

“I need your help,” Joseph said. “I cannot allow everything I own to go to Fleur, leaving my little boy penniless.”

“Why should a woman you married only two years ago deprive your helpless orphan of the fruit of your labors?” Shemayah demanded. “A young childless woman like Fleur will surely marry again and secure another
ketubah
payment.”

Meir challenged this. “None of that matters. The law is clear. A woman’s
ketubah
supports her if her husband dies or divorces her. She always has the first claim on his estate.”

Judah had to admit that each side had merit.

Salomon stopped stroking his beard and addressed the room. “Only a man’s real property is mortgaged to his wife’s
ketubah
. Certainly he may make a gift of his personal property to anyone.”

“Even if it would impoverish his widow?” Meir asked.

“Fleur will not be impoverished,” Joseph said bitterly. “Even if I give Samson every moveable item I own, she still inherits my house.”