Rashi's Daughters, Book II: Miriam (57 page)

Miriam, along with her mother and her sisters, found Aaron charming. He complimented their clothes and their cooking, and Rachel found his opinions helpful in determining which pieces of jewelry would be popular with which clients. Miriam thought that Aaron would make a perfect study partner for her husband, but Judah surprised her by remaining with Eliezer, even though the two were no longer equal in knowledge. So Papa asked Elisha to study with Aaron for the summer.

To Miriam’s dismay, Judah seemed to take an immediate dislike to the fellow. He not only avoided sitting next to Aaron, but he chose a seat as far away from the new student as possible. Like Papa, Judah always tried to praise his pupils when they asked clever questions and to make sure he answered them completely. But Judah treated Aaron’s queries dismissively, with replies so curt they almost stung. Other students challenged Judah if they disagreed with him, but when Aaron did this, Judah chastised him to respect his teacher.

And so Aaron became two different people. In the large synagogue class with the merchants, his knowledge and enthusiasm merited him a seat at the front. There, Aaron was garrulous, asking questions and provoking discussions, but in their salon, he restrained himself. Judah’s students usually took their meals at his table, but Aaron ate at Salomon’s. Miriam couldn’t understand what had come over her husband; surely he wasn’t jealous of the attention Papa had lavished on the newcomer.

Judah had no idea that his wife was aware of his efforts to distance himself from Aaron. But from the moment they’d met, when Judah recognized the frank appraisal in Aaron’s eyes and felt himself responding in kind, Judah understood the danger. And so he refused to be the young man’s study partner rather than risk another bout of the pain he’d suffered with Elisha.

But the stars had mocked his sacrifice, arranging for Aaron to study with Elisha and denying him the company of both men. As if that weren’t bad enough, fate brought Natan ben Abraham to Troyes’ yeshiva.

“Shalom aleichem, Judah.” That silky smooth voice sounded nearly the same as ten years ago. “You’re even more handsome than when I last saw you.”

Judah looked around to see who might be listening, but the students were gathered around Salomon. “Aleichem shalom, Natan. So our Hot Fair has brought you all the way from Prague.”

Natan’s hair was now silvery white, his belly was a bit larger, and he wore a sapphire ring in addition to the emerald and black pearl rings he’d had before. “I’ve heard about the Troyes fairs, and when Reuben mentioned seeing you, I decided to pay your city a visit.”

Natan still had his old charisma, but Judah observed his lecherous smile and felt his insides curdle at how he’d almost sinned with this man. “Then he must have told you that I don’t play the game.”

“He did,” Natan said cheerfully, ignoring Judah’s coldness. “But there are plenty of other men here who do.”

Judah searched for a new topic of conversation. “You’ve studied at every Rhineland yeshiva. How does ours compare?”

“I don’t know how it is when the merchants are gone, but now it’s more than adequate. It’s interesting to study with so many foreign scholars. Some of their knowledge is unique.”

They discussed the texts that Salomon had been teaching in Troyes and compared them with the ones that Natan had studied recently in Mayence and Worms. Judah was almost feeling comfortable when Aaron walked by, paused, and then kept going.

Natan threw his arm around Judah’s shoulders and began to laugh. “You don’t fool me. You may not play the game, but it’s not because you don’t want to. That Sephardic fellow would be in your bed in a moment if you’d say the word.”

Judah threw off Natan’s embrace. “How dare you?”

Still chuckling, Natan shook his head. “Ah well, your loss may be my gain.”

Judah watched with horror as Natan hurried after Aaron. At
disner
, every time someone entered who wasn’t Aaron, his anxiety and anger grew. Only when the meal was finished did Aaron and Elisha arrive, talking and laughing together, leaving Judah not knowing which he wanted to do, hit Aaron or kiss him. In his consternation he knocked over his wine cup, earning him a penetrating stare from Miriam.

Ah, Miriam. What would his wife think if she knew that he went to sleep terrified lest Lillit visit him in Aaron’s form? Or that he came to Miriam at night aroused to the point of madness from imagining Natan and Aaron together. Did Miriam suspect anything? She was fond of Aaron; all the women were. And so, Heaven help him, was he.

 

Thus the miserable summer passed. Judah stayed up late and woke early to study, argued furiously with Eliezer over every interpretation of the passages they studied, and snapped at his sons when they needed his help. He kept a covert watch on Aaron’s comings and goings, yet he avoided Aaron as much as it was possible for a teacher to avoid his own student. That is, until it was time for the wine harvest and he found himself treading grapes one night in the same vat as Aaron.

It was early in the process, when the grapes needed continuous treading. As usual, Miriam, Joheved, and Anna spent mornings and afternoons in one vat, while members of the congregation rotated among the others. Most merchants and students had gone home for Rosh Hashanah, so until the initial
bouillage
phase of fermentation was finished, Judah treaded for one of the lengthy night shifts as well as during the day.

Many in the community enjoyed the camaraderie, but jumping around half-naked in the fizzing grape juice, the woody stems flogging his exposed lower limbs, was an ordeal for Judah. So when Salomon woke him at midnight for another turn in the vats, Judah was in a foul mood. Groggy from lack of sleep, his arms and legs sore from the unaccustomed physical labor, Judah threw on his stained chemise and trudged downstairs to the moonlit courtyard. He tied on his linen boots and lowered himself into the fizzing half wine, almost cursing when the acid liquid stung a cut he’d received on his leg earlier. Then he looked up and his jaw dropped.

Aaron was standing opposite him, struggling to turn over the raft of grapes and stems with his paddle—stark naked.

Judah looked away immediately, but the vision of droplets of grape juice dripping through Aaron’s chest hair and further down his torso was already seared in his memory. Most of the students preferred to work naked in the vats at night, another reason treading the vintage was a trying experience for Judah. Not that he could argue with them. Why should they ruin their chemises when there were no women present and it was too dark for anyone inside to see them?

Judah took up his paddle, resigned to the situation by his duty to Salomon. The lewd songs and raucous laughter coming from the other vats made him grimace. Nighttime treading was a giant party for the students, and Salomon encouraged them to enjoy themselves as long as they kept the grapes roiling.

Judah forced himself to concentrate on digging his paddle as deep as he could into the tangled raft before hauling it up, turning it over, and treading it back in. Each hour would seem an eternity, but he would get through it, and from now on he’d look to see who was in the vat before he got in.

“Judah.” Aaron’s voice broke his concentration.

“What?” Judah made no attempt to hide his irritation.

“Would you please tell me what I’ve done this summer to anger you?”

“I’m not angry at you.”
Why is Aaron choosing this moment to ask about my feelings?

“Then why do you treat me so badly?”

“I treat you the same as all my students,” Judah said, uneasy about where the conversation might lead.

“
Non
, you don’t. You usually ignore my questions, and when you do deign to answer them you act like I’ve said something stupid or obscene.”

“You’re too sensitive, you’ve imagined things.”
Have I really been so unkind?
He hadn’t meant to hurt Aaron, never that.

They trod the grapes silently for a while, with Judah hopeful that his shift would end without further conversation.

“One thing I haven’t imagined,” Aaron said. “You never look at me when you talk to me.”

It was true. Looking at Aaron filled Judah with a painful longing. Still, he had no choice now but to face Aaron and let his emotions take the consequences.

“I’m looking at you now. And if you have any Talmud questions you think I haven’t answered properly, feel free to ask them.” Judah continued to stare at Aaron, determined that he would not be the one to look away.

“I’ll need a little time to think of them all,” Aaron replied, locking eyes with Judah.

They kept each other in view as they moved around the vat, until suddenly Aaron started to look embarrassed. He averted his gaze from Judah, turned around, and kept his back to Judah as much as possible. Judah couldn’t imagine what had caused this furtive behavior until Aaron lifted up a paddle full of grapes and stems, causing the liquid level to fall.

Aaron had an erection.

Judah immediately scooped up a large section of the raft and dumped it between them. Aaron’s state wasn’t unusual; students got erections in the vats occasionally, prompting a round of jokes and teasing.

But to his horror, Judah felt himself growing aroused. Now he was trapped. Any moment the raft would shift position and expose him. But if he attempted to get out of the vat, his condition would be obvious to Aaron, and perhaps even to the nearby students. In desperation Judah drove his paddle into his injured leg. The pain caused him to lose his balance, and Aaron hurried to catch him before he was completely submerged. They gazed at each other, nose to nose.

“Now you know how I feel about you,” Aaron said, his eyes full of regret. “I wish it could have been different between us.”

Before Judah could find a response, the church bells began to chime None, signaling the end of their shift. The treaders vacated the vats and headed for the well to wash. If they hurried to bed, they might manage three hours of sleep before dawn brought another day of working on the vintage.

 

“Judah, wake up.”

“What’s wrong?” Miriam wouldn’t have woken him up unless it was an emergency.

“You’ve got to talk to Aaron. He’s leaving.”

Judah was too groggy to comprehend. “Where’s he going?”

“I don’t know whether he’s going to Mayence or back to Sepharad. He told me he can’t study Talmud in Troyes anymore.” Miriam was near tears. “You must stop him. He’s our first student from Sepharad. We can’t let him leave and tell everyone how awful our yeshiva is.”

“Papa should talk to him, not me.”

“It’s your fault that he’s leaving, not Papa’s.”

Judah was wide-awake now. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know why you dislike Aaron, but I’m sure he doesn’t deserve it.” Miriam grabbed Judah’s arm and pulled him out of bed. “It’s a sin to keep someone from studying Torah. So if Aaron goes before you ask him to forgive you, you’ll never see him again and even Yom Kippur won’t atone for the damage you’ve done.”

Judah pulled on his clothes and raced out the front door, Miriam at his heels. Maybe Aaron was still in the courtyard.

Miriam hurried to the gate and peered outside into the predawn gloom. “He’s gone.” She leaned against the doorway and began to cry.

“
Non
,” Judah shouted. “He has to get his horse from the stables.”

“Take your mantle if you’re going out on the street,” she called after him, but it was too late. Judah had disappeared around the corner.

Judah was running too hard to worry about the cold. He dashed through the muddy streets, leaving a trail of cursing servants in his wake, until he came to the road where the stables were located. The sun was just rising, but it was light enough to provide a clear view down the street, a street without a single person on horseback.

Judah let out a sigh of relief and slowed to a walk as the morning bells began to ring. Most folks didn’t get up until Prime, so stable hands would need even more time to prepare a horse if they didn’t know about it the night before. Aaron was likely to still be there. But what was Judah going to say to him? The truth?

The voices complaining inside quieted as Judah walked through the stable gates. Two boys were trying to saddle a dappled horse that obviously wanted to eat instead, but there was no sign of Aaron.

“Excuse me,” Judah asked the older boy. “Can you tell me where this horse’s owner is? He forgot some of his things.”

“He’s at the inn next door,” came the surly reply. “I’m not surprised he forgot something, he was in such a hurry. But you can’t hurry horses, no sir. Folks who want to leave at first light need to inform us in advance.” The litany of complaints continued as Judah edged his way toward the doorway.

Suddenly the gate swung open and in marched Aaron. “How much longer until my horse is ready?” he demanded.

“He’ll be ready when he’s ready,” the boy replied. Aaron turned to stalk out and nearly ran into Judah. They stared wordlessly at each other until Aaron said, “What the devil are you doing here?”

“I came to ask you not to leave.” Aaron’s expression hardened, and Judah quickly added, “I want to apologize to you. You were right. I did treat you badly.”

“You’re too late. As soon as my horse is saddled, I’m going.”

Judah fought his rising panic. “It’s almost Yom Kippur. At least listen to me first.”

“I’m listening.” Aaron put his hands on his hips.

Judah looked Aaron straight in the eye. “I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay and study with me . . . very much.” Then he held his breath, waiting for the stars to seal his fate. The heat his body had generated while running was finally gone and he began to shiver.

The stable boy called out, “Are you leaving this morning or not?”

Aaron’s expression relaxed. He opened his mantle and flung it around both their shoulders. “You can apologize indoors, where it’s warmer.” He tossed the boy a coin. “Just feed my horse for now. If I want him saddled, I’ll let you know.”