Rashi's Daughters, Book II: Miriam (62 page)

The servants were still asleep, so Miriam stoked the fire in the kitchen hearth and prepared her first cup of ginger tisane. She’d bought all the ginger in stock locally, and at this rate she would run out well before the spice merchants arrived for the Hot Fair.

Late that afternoon, Judah asked if she still had the conditional
get
he’d written her before Elisha’s wedding.

“I think so.”

“Could you find it, please?” he asked. “I’d like to make sure that nothing has happened to it.”

Miriam opened the chest that held her best clothes and pulled out the piece of parchment for him to examine.

“Good, it’s undamaged.” Judah rolled up the
get
and returned it to her, a relieved expression on his face. “In case something happens to me.”

Miriam gave him a hug. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. You’ll be at Alvina’s in less than a week.” She was proud that her husband was so punctilious, so concerned about her being left an
agunah
that he wanted to protect her against the unlikely event of him disappearing or dying without witnesses on such a short trip.

She was further impressed when Judah chose to have
souper
alone with her and their children, while Aaron ate at Salomon’s. And later that night he took a good deal of time kissing her and stroking her hair before finally entering her. Miriam would have been content to forgo his attentions and go to sleep early, but the Sages taught that it was a mitzvah for a man to lie with his wife before a journey. So she tried to ignore her queasiness and return his kisses with more enthusiasm than she felt.

Afterward, she heard him weeping softly, so she reached out to stroke his shoulder. “I know you’ll miss Aaron while you’re gone, but don’t worry, you’ll see him again soon.”

Judah turned over and pulled her close. “
Non
, I’m thinking that I’ll miss you.”

Guilt flooded through Miriam. She had been thinking only of how much she would miss her children. She leaned over to kiss him and said, “You’ll be home soon, Le Bon Dieu willing.”

The next morning there was much hugging and crying as her family exited through the Paris Gate, especially little Elisha, who clung to her until Aaron pulled him off and handed him to Judah. On the way home she threw up on the street, and, by the time she returned, she felt so ill that Jeanne had to help her up the stairs and into bed.

 

Miriam was feeling worse than ever when Aaron came to bid her adieu a few days later. He would have preferred to travel with Jews, but the only people going to Sepharad were some pilgrims Guy had located who were on their way to Santiago de Compostela for Easter.

“I want to thank you for all your hospitality,” he said, averting his eyes from hers.

“You’re most welcome,” Miriam replied. It was odd how he looked excited and happy, yet furtive at the same time.
Of course, he is going to see his wife after nearly a year’s absence
. “I’m sure you’re looking forward to seeing your family again.”

“Most definitely.”

Miriam tried to catch his eye, but he refused to meet her gaze. “Have a safe trip. We’ll see you in a few months.”

“I hope you’ll be feeling better soon,” he said with a small smile. “Good-bye then.”

Miriam pondered their exchange as she watched Aaron carry his saddlebag across the courtyard. His expression didn’t seemed right, a strange combination of triumph and pity.

He was lying
.

She had enough dealings with liars in the jewelry business to identify one easily. Alvina had taught her and Rachel to ask where a woman had acquired the jewels she wanted to pawn or sell, and not just to avoid stolen merchandise. Noble women with gambling debts and mistresses selling their lovers’ tokens of affection often lied at first, until they understood that Miriam needed to know these things to prevent shame for the seller, to make sure that an item wasn’t inadvertently resold to someone who would recognize its origin.

The answer hit her with a shock that pushed her back into the pillow and forced tears from her eyes. Aaron wasn’t going home to Sepharad. He intended to go to Paris. That’s why he was traveling with Notzrim who didn’t know him and wouldn’t care when he left their party.

And Judah was expecting him; that’s why he was so attentive to her on their final night together. She began to sob in earnest.

M
iriam was dimly aware of a rooster crowing, and the next moment she sensed a flutter of movement within her belly. Somehow she’d survived another night—now she would have to endure another day. Her nausea began to grow, competing with the terrible thirst that was her constant companion.

Papa had found plenty of leftover matzah for her to eat, far more than she could keep down, but her supply of ginger was gone. Too ill to travel even the short distance to Ramerupt, Miriam spent a sorrowful Passover at home with Anna and Baruch, who’d lost both daughters to smallpox.

Despite her own infirmity, Miriam couldn’t stay away from their sickroom. Perhaps her sons were at that moment suffering the same symptoms. So she sat and prayed for hours with the girls, as one declined and then the other. The younger took ill first, with a fever and stomachache that Anna hoped might be due to tainted meat. But then the pimples appeared on her face and hands, and by the time they spread to the rest of her body she was screaming and clutching her belly in agony. Helpless to ease this torment, Miriam could offer only the comfort of her presence, and the girl’s heartrending cries echoed in Miriam’s ears long after she returned home.

By the time the little one died, her older sister’s body was covered with the small pimples, which soon grew into vesicles and filled with pus. Miriam tried to be optimistic; she and Joheved had also looked horrible at this stage, yet they had survived. But the girl’s pustules, instead of deflating and drying out, began to merge together into larger and larger sheets, until her skin separated from the flesh underneath. When the Angel of Death finally came, Miriam could only weep with relief that the poor child’s suffering was over.

Ramerupt had proved no haven from the pox; both of Joheved’s daughters had been stricken, as well as Zipporah and Judita, the doctor’s daughter, who had also taken refuge there. Joheved couldn’t tend to all these youngsters herself, not while recuperating from a miscarriage, so when Passover was over and Papa came home, Mama remained behind.

Now it was Anna and Jeanne who cared for Miriam, who coaxed her to drink what little she could and cleaned up what she couldn’t retain. So many nights Miriam dreamed of her sons, covered with sores and crying for her in pain, while she tried desperately to reach them. These nightmarish visions haunted her, and, terrified that she would never see her children again, Miriam began to wish that she too wouldn’t wake up the next morning. But Anna was determined to keep the Angel of Death from returning to their courtyard, and it seemed that Miriam’s unborn child was equally determined, because somehow Miriam managed to ingest just enough nourishment to sustain them both.

Eyes still closed, Miriam reached for a piece of matzah and instead found a warm cup in her hand. A female voice urged her, “Swallow some of this.”

Miriam had to be dreaming, because the drink smelled like ginger tisane and the voice belonged to her younger sister.

“Rachel?” The room was too dark to see who was helping her sit up.

“
Oui
, I got here late last night.” She pressed the cup to Miriam’s lips.

Miriam let a small amount trickle down her throat. She managed to swallow two more mouthfuls of the tisane, along with another piece of matzah, before the cramps started, but a miracle happened and nothing came back up.

“What are you doing here? The Hot Fair isn’t for weeks.”

Rachel handed her a cloth dipped in the ginger tisane to suck. “Papa sent a courier to Arles for me.”

“That must have cost a fortune.”

“Judah can afford it. Papa said to come home immediately and to bring a six months’ supply of ginger,” Rachel said. “Now what’s this about Judah taking the children to Paris?”

At the mention of her children, Miriam began to cry. She’d been keeping her misery dammed up inside for so long that it was impossible to hold back. In between sobs and sips of ginger tisane, she poured out what she knew about Judah and Aaron, what she suspected, and what she feared. “Now Judah’s taken my children away; I’ll never see them again.”

Rachel shook her head. “I can’t believe it—not Judah.”

Miriam wiped her tears on the sheet. “The way Judah asked about my conditional
get
, I’m afraid he’s not coming back.”

“Perhaps he didn’t go to Paris at all.” Rachel jumped up, her hands on her hips. “I’m going to find out.”

Miriam’s emotions warred within her. While desperate for news of her sons, she wasn’t sure how Judah would react to Rachel’s presence. “Maybe Judah does intend to return home. Maybe he’s just following Rav Ilai’s advice and going to a place where no one knows him to commit the sin his heart desires.”

“I suppose even pious men like Judah sin sometimes,” Rachel said. “But I’m leaving for Paris after the Sabbath. I have some items that I’d like Alvina to sell there, and in return I can bring her merchandise back to the Hot Fair.”

“Please wait a little while. You just got here.”

“All right. But only because you’re so sick.”

Now that the room was getting light, Rachel was appalled at Miriam’s emaciated appearance. She would have to stay in Troyes at least a week; Heaven forbid that Miriam should die while she was on her way to Paris. And while she was here, she could visit Mama and Joheved in Ramerupt.

 

Rachel waited for two Sabbaths to pass. Miriam still looked ghastly, and while she ate far less than she should, she managed to keep most of it down. Joheved’s daughters seemed to be out of danger as well, although it would be some time before they regained their full health. Thank Heaven the pox had been mild in Arles; little Shemiah had hardly been sick at all. Maybe by the time she returned from Paris, her husband and son would be waiting for her in Troyes.

There was always traffic on the roads once the Champagne fair cycle began, and Rachel had no trouble finding someone to guide her to the Jewish Quarter of Paris. Events began as she anticipated when she knocked on Alvina’s door and the astonished woman accepted without question Rachel’s explanation for her visit. Judah was also amazed to see her, and Rachel tried not to show how relieved she was to find him in residence.

“Judah,” she whispered, preparing to test him. “I would speak with you in private.”

Clearly alarmed, he led her into the side room where Alvina saw her clients. “What’s the matter?”

“Miriam is gravely ill,” Rachel said solemnly. “This pregnancy has been harder than the others, and frankly I don’t know how much longer she has to live.” She hadn’t lied to Judah; who knows how long anyone has to live?

Judah’s reaction was all she’d hoped for. The blood drained from his face, and he staggered to the nearest chair as if she’d hit him. “What am I to do? You tell me that my wife is dying, but I can’t travel to Troyes while Shimson is so ill.”

“What’s wrong with Shimson?”

“He has the pox. All three of them do, but Shimson’s case is the worst.” Judah put his head in his hands, but not before Rachel could see the tears in his eyes. “Why did I ever take them away from home?”

Rachel groaned inwardly. Now she would have to wait until Shimson’s illness was resolved, one way or another. She couldn’t go back to Miriam with this news and admit that she’d left without knowing what happened to him.

“Judah, shall I stay with the boys tonight so you can get some rest?” How would he react to this idea?

“
Merci
, but
non
. I sleep with them every night,” he said. “It comforts them to have me nearby.”

Neither of them said it, but both of them had the same thought—
if there is any change, he’ll be the first to know
.

At that moment Alvina returned. “Elisha is crying for you, Judah, and Rachel, you must be tired after your long journey.”

Rachel was tired, as well as relieved that she could send Miriam a message that Judah and the boys were indeed in Paris. But she was also perplexed. Was Aaron in Paris or not? And if not, had he already been here and left or had something delayed his arrival? Could her sister’s suspicions be groundless? She fell asleep impatient to find the answers to her questions.

 

Lying next to his pox-covered son, sleep eluded Judah completely. First Shimson stricken and now Miriam; this was the Holy One punishing him. How could he have allowed Aaron to believe that they would meet in Paris? How could his desire have so overwhelmed everything he knew was right?

Aaron—his thoughts kept returning to the man even though he tried with all his might to shut them out.
Where is Aaron?
It was over a month since Passover. The first time Judah approached Jacques’ Hole, he walked around the block five times before finding the courage to enter. But soon he was stopping in daily to ask about recent visitors, only to leave disappointed.

Had Aaron been in an accident? Or had he met an old love in Sepharad and decided to remain there? Shimson’s illness would keep Judah in Paris for another month at least; if Aaron were coming, he’d certainly arrive by then.

What am I thinking?
How can I want to prolong my son’s sickness to wait for Aaron? No wonder I’m being punished. Mon Dieu, forgive me. Don’t make my wife and son suffer for my sin. Don’t let them die, I beg you, and if I should see Aaron again, I will send him away immediately. Heal them, please, and I swear that I will never even think carnally about another man.