Rashi's Daughters, Book II: Miriam (58 page)

“Whatever you say, milord.”

As soon as they shut the inn’s sturdy wooden door behind them, the pungent smell and sizzling sound of bacon cooking took Judah back to his early yeshiva days, when he and Azariel stayed overnight at so many inns like this.

Aaron led him to a table next to the hearth, where the innkeeper soon brought them a platter of food and two steaming mugs of ale.

“No bacon for us,” Aaron said, waving that serving dish away. “But we’ll have some eggs and cheese.”

The fragrance of fresh bread made Judah realize that he was famished from all his work on the vintage. But he couldn’t relax and eat until he’d heard Aaron forgive him.

“I’ve never disliked you,” Judah began. “If anything, I liked you too much.”

Aaron smiled. “You had an odd way of showing it.”

“I didn’t mean to be cruel to you, but I was so focused on fighting my
yetzer hara
that I never considered how my behavior would affect you. I hope you can forgive me.”

“You were fighting your
yetzer hara
?” Aaron squinted up at him. “I don’t understand.”

Judah took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Please don’t tell anyone, but a couple of years ago I became overly fond of one of my students. When he left the yeshiva, as all students do eventually, the pain of losing him was almost more than I could bear.” Judah could feel the tears forming.

“I’m sorry.” Aaron reached across the table and squeezed Judah’s hand.

Judah didn’t pull his hand away. “I promised myself to never let it happen again, and then you showed up. You’re smart and charming, and I’ve been struggling with my
yetzer hara
all summer.”

“I thought you hated me.”

“I think I hated how you made me feel,” Judah said. “Now that you know, I hope you won’t still want to leave Troyes. But if you do, I ask you to forgive me first.”

Aaron began to chuckle. “After what you just told me, the last thing I want to do is leave Troyes.” Then his expression grew serious. “There’s no need to ask for my forgiveness. I was leaving this morning because I was sure you’d inform Rav Salomon about my behavior in the vat. Elisha told me what happened to him in Mayence, and I didn’t want to wait around to be expelled.”

Judah almost told Aaron about his own reaction in the vat, but said instead, “Trying to protect myself is no excuse for how I mistreated you. Will you forgive me?”

Aaron squeezed Judah’s hand again. “Of course I forgive you. You’re rather smart and charming yourself,” he said with a grin. “And don’t worry. It will be many years before I must choose between the yeshiva and my family’s business.”

Judah gently pulled his hand away. “Aaron, I will study with you and be your friend, but you must understand that I will never engage in any sinful carnal actions with you.” He lowered his voice but still said firmly, “Don’t even think about it.”

Aaron nodded. “So we will be like the study partners in Avot de Rabbi Natan.

Except, of course, that we won’t sleep together.” Then he added, “But don’t expect me not to think about it.”

Judah sighed. He’d be thinking about it too.

“Since you’ve just shared your secrets with me, I have one to share with you,” Aaron said. “That student you cared for so much before—was it Elisha?”

“How did you know?”

“I was Elisha’s study partner all summer. In addition to Talmud, we discussed you.”

“Does he know how I felt about him?”

“Don’t worry. He has no idea that you ever wanted him as badly as he wanted you.”

“That’s a relief.” Judah sighed. “He seems happy with the arrangement he and Giuseppe have now . . . although I don’t understand what he sees in someone so uneducated.”

Aaron shrugged. “Giuseppe adores him.”

“Enough eating, drinking, and telling secrets.” Judah wiped his hands on the tablecloth and stood up. “It’s time to go back and start studying Torah.” Miriam would be waiting anxiously for him to return with Aaron.

 

That night in the wine vat with Aaron, Judah couldn’t believe how much had changed in twenty-four hours. Miriam had been nearly ecstatic in her relief when they returned, hugging both of them. When Salomon heard that Aaron had decided to study in Troyes permanently and that Judah had agreed to be his study partner, he asked them to work on his Talmud commentaries together, to make sure that both Ashkenaz and Sephardic interpretations were considered.

“This is truly sharing secrets of Torah,” Aaron exclaimed when he saw the extent of Salomon’s
kuntres
. “Promise me that when I finally have to leave Troyes, I can take a copy with me so I’ll never forget my learning.” Aaron gazed up at Judah and added, “Or you.”

Judah’s spirits soared. “We will harness our passion for each other and use it for Torah study.”

“Just like Rav Yohanan and Reish Lakish. You can be Rav Yohanan, my beautiful, beardless teacher . . .”

“And you will be Reish Lakish, my strong, bandit student?” Judah asked, flattered and amused at Aaron’s comparison. Then he grew serious. “Except we won’t let any misunderstandings ruin our friendship.”

“In Sepharad we have a saying about men as beautiful as you,” Aaron whispered. “In his youth he seduces men away from their wives, and in maturity he seduces women away from their husbands.”

“Don’t say that, not even in a whisper. You’ll tempt the Evil Eye. It’s enough to be likened to Rav Yohanan, a great teacher who fathered ten sons.”

Miriam insisted that it was dangerous for Aaron to sleep alone in the attic now that the students had gone, and she arranged for him to share Yom Tov and Shimson’s room. Which meant that he and Judah were in each other’s company from early in the morning, when they came downstairs together, to late at night, when they said
bonne nuit
in the hall before disappearing into their adjoining rooms. During the day they edited Salomon’s commentaries, falling into the familiar intimacy of Talmud study.

As the vintage continued night after night, they shared their life stories, talking about their families, childhoods, and how they had come to be scholars. Eventually they spoke of deeper things, and, finally, of the difficulties of yeshiva life with a
yetzer hara
that became attracted to other students.

Aaron rarely spoke of his wife (he had yet to mention her name), but Judah was proud to explain how he had come to marry such an exemplary women as Miriam, the rosh yeshiva’s daughter, a
mohelet
, and a scholar in her own right.

“It is because of her that I am able to control my
yetzer hara
.” Judah silently gave thanks that he had followed Reuben’s earlier advice. “You must find it difficult to only visit your wife once a year, at Passover.”

Aaron shrugged. “Such a thing is common in Sepharad; the merchants who travel to India may be away from home for years.”

“Men like me and Meir are unusual,” Judah said, thinking of how Miriam had come to be the mohel’s apprentice. “When Papa was a student he only came home for the three festivals, and traders in Troyes often travel for months at a time as well.”

“Some men don’t mind being away from their wives. Look at Elisha and Giuseppe; they have the perfect arrangement.”

The wistful tone of Aaron’s voice made Judah certain that Aaron was one of those men. He was about to say how much he enjoyed being with his sons every day, watching them grow up. Little Elisha was walking now, and Miriam had started teaching Shimson to read Torah. Yom Tov was already more advanced in Mishnah than Judah had been at that age. But Aaron was unlikely to have the same opportunity, assuming he had any sons, and Judah saw no reason to remind him of this.

By the time the Cold Fair began, Salomon was so pleased with the progress Judah and Aaron were making on his
kuntres
that he asked Shemayah to teach the advanced students, freeing Judah to continue editing. Judah was happy to oblige, so happy that he began to fear that others would discover, and condemn, his newfound source of happiness.

Merchants like Natan and Levi would surely recognize how his relationship with Aaron differed from that of study partners like Meir and Shemayah. No matter how platonic their behavior, or how carefully he guarded himself, someone might see something, or hear something, that would give them away. The gossip would start and before he knew it, Fleur’s relatives would be interrupting services to denounce him and Aaron. The Troyes yeshiva would be rocked with scandal, Papa’s reputation ruined.

Judah saw no choice but to distance himself from Aaron to avoid suspicion, at least during the Cold Fair. It took several days to muster the courage to discuss his worries with the object of his affection, but to his relief, Aaron understood. They agreed that for the fair’s duration, when so many eyes might be watching, Aaron would spend his evenings with the Sephardic merchants or other advanced students. Judah easily kept Salomon company at night, but it was not so easy to keep from dwelling on where Aaron was or why he came home so late.

M
iriam was too worried about her aunt to notice her husband’s changing moods. Aunt Sarah, her mentor and friend, who had been almost a second mother to her, was dying. The elderly midwife never fully recovered from her illness the previous winter, and then the Hot Fair brought some new pestilence to Troyes. By Hanukkah her family acknowledged the inevitable.

They kept the lamp in Sarah’s room burning and never left her alone. Nearly every Jewish woman in town came to visit and settle any quarrels they might have had during her lifetime; the exception being those named Sarah themselves. Heaven forbid the Angel of Death should arrive for the invalid and claim another with the same name.

Sarah’s last days presented a challenge to her family. They wanted her death to be peaceful, which meant preventing a painful battle between the
mazikim
and her soul at the final moment. On the other hand, the Angel of Death must be permitted to perform its ultimate assignment and the spirits of recent dead allowed to welcome her to the next world. Thus Sarah’s visitors were careful to keep her limbs within the confines of her bed, so demons couldn’t grab them, but they didn’t recite the usual anti-demonic prayers, such as Psalm 91.

Instead Miriam chanted from the thirtieth chapter of Exodus twice a day when she recited the Shema:

Everyone knew that merely the description of preparing incense for the Holy Temple could evoke its power to repel the
mazikim
responsible for a person’s death agony. And with the daily repetition of these verses, Miriam came to accept that her source of midwife lore and advice would soon be gone.

Rivka and her guests kept Sarah company during the daytime, leaving Joheved and Miriam to sit with her at night while their husbands studied at the synagogue. It was an opportunity to study without their children interrupting and, once Aunt Sarah was asleep, to discuss subjects that required privacy.

“Is it safe to stop taking the sterilizing herbs?” Joheved asked. Without looking she pulled a strand of wool from her distaff, twisted it into thread, and wound it onto her spindle.

“I think you’ve waited long enough,” Miriam replied. “As long as it doesn’t bother you to use the bed.”

Joheved shook her head. “It did at first, but now it feels like it did before. We haven’t overturned the table in months.”

“We just studied an interesting text in Sanhedrin about that,” Miriam said.

“Can you teach it to me?”

“I can teach it to you tonight. It’s not very long; one line of Mishnah, then the Gemara on it:

“Obviously from the Arayot in Leviticus,” Joheved answered and quoted the passage.

Miriam smiled. “I thought that was the text too, but it’s not.” She quoted the Gemara:

“Really?” Joheved stared at Miriam with surprise.

“Papa says the two kinds of lying with women are natural and unnatural, that is, turning over the table. Whoever lies with a woman forbidden to him is liable no matter which way he does it.”

“I see. A man who thinks he’s not committing adultery because they’re turning over the table . . .” Joheved began.

“Has indeed committed the sin if the woman is married to someone else,” Miriam concluded.

“Meir told me that turning over the table is permitted so that a man won’t do
mishkav zachur
,” Joheved said.

“Perhaps.” Miriam paused to consider this. “Remember what Yalta told her husband in Tractate Chullin:

Joheved smiled at Miriam. “We’re so lucky to have each other to study with. I miss this so much when I’m in Ramerupt.”

Miriam smiled in return. “So do I.”