Rashi's Daughters, Book II: Miriam (37 page)

“I know the law is usually like Hillel, but here it is like Shammai: the bridegroom performs the initial penetration and then withdraws,” Joheved said. “If it’s any consolation, Meir says that Eliezer was upset when he read this section, too.”

“But the blood of virginity is pure, not like
niddah
. How can we celebrate our wedding for seven days if we have to wait seven clean days before we can touch each other, sit on the same bench, eat from the same bowl?” Rachel’s voice rose with frustration. “By that time I
will
be
niddah
.”

“The Sages worry that there could be menstrual blood mixed in with that of your virginity,” Miriam explained.

Joheved smiled at her little sister’s disappointment. “But Papa isn’t that strict. He agrees that the blood of virginity is not like
niddah
. He says that while using the bed is forbidden after the first time, you can still touch each other, eat from the same dish, even sleep together.”

“At night, it can be nice doing everything except the holy deed,” Miriam said. “And it gives you a week to heal.”

A shadow of fear clouded Rachel’s face. “Is the first time really so painful that I’ll need a week to heal?”

“I have no idea.” Joheved smiled at the memory. “Thanks to some vigorous horseback riding, my door was already open. So I didn’t bleed at all on my wedding night.”

“That’s not fair, you were lucky.” Rachel turned to Miriam. “What about you?”

“My experience won’t help either.” Miriam quickly tried to think of an explanation that wasn’t too embarrassing. “My door was so tightly closed that Judah couldn’t open it.”

Joheved skeptically raised an eyebrow. “But there were bloodstains on the sheets.”

“Judah made those by cutting his hand. He didn’t want to injure me with too much force. Aunt Sarah cut my hymen later.”

“So neither of you had any pain,” Rachel accused her.

“True, but Mama did. She wouldn’t say anything before my wedding; she probably didn’t want to scare me. But I got her to tell me about it later.” Miriam’s voice dropped to a whisper, and her sisters leaned closer. “She said her door was tightly closed, too, and when Papa finally opened her, it was the most pain she’d ever felt, until childbirth, that is.”

The three sat mutely in the bedroom that they had once shared. Finally Rachel broke the silence. “Do you think Aunt Sarah would open my door too?”

Miriam threw her arm around her younger sister’s shoulders. “At your next flowers, I’ll cut your hymen myself. Then you won’t have to worry about blood or pain on your wedding night.”

“And neither will Eliezer,” Joheved added with a smile.

 

Rachel’s good mood lasted slightly less than a week. The following Thursday afternoon she stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind her. Her hands shaking with anger, she grabbed the nearest hoe and began hacking away at the weeds in Mama’s vegetable garden.

Papa had no consideration for her happiness. In three days Eliezer would be going home for Shavuot. They’d had no time alone together since he returned after Passover, and it was clear that they would have none before he left again either. She slashed at another weed, uprooting both it and a lettuce growing nearby.

“Ahem.” A feminine voice behind her coughed.

Rachel spun around, ready to confront her angry mother, but it was the widow Samuelis, whose house shared their courtyard.

“Shalom aleichem, Samuelis.” Rachel hid her surprise.

Other than an occasional
bonjour
, Samuelis kept to herself, tending to her poultry and the women who bought them from her. She didn’t chitchat with Mama or Aunt Sarah, or with other women at synagogue either. She lived alone, except during the Hot Fair when her son, and now Alvina, stayed with her.

“Aleichem shalom,” Samuelis returned her greeting. “I would like you and Eliezer to join me for
souper
tonight.”

“
Merci
.” Rachel smiled. She and Eliezer would finally share a meal away from Papa’s stern visage.

“
Bien
, I’ll expect you when the bells chime Vespers.”

Rachel watched Samuelis limp across the courtyard, then hastily replanted the lettuce and continued her weeding more judiciously.
What could the old woman possibly want with us?

Two hours later, she and Eliezer were sitting at Samuelis’s small dining table, finishing their chicken stew. It was finally time for dessert, and when Samuelis returned from the kitchen with a platter of spiced almond cookies, she handed Rachel a rolled up scroll.

Samuelis smiled at her. “I can’t abandon my poor clients.”

What was the woman talking about? Rachel wondered as she began to scan the Hebrew document. Her jaw dropped, and she stared up at Eliezer, her eyes wide and questioning. It was a deed, conveying Samuelis’s house and furnishings to her, Rachel bat Salomon, providing that she agree to carry on Samuelis’s business.

Eliezer grinned at her astonishment. “It’s my wedding present to you. I wanted you to get it before I left, so you’d have time to decorate.”

“But ... but,” she stammered.
My own house, my very own house.
She turned to Samuelis. “Where are you going to live?”

“My son has finally convinced me to come live with him in Cologne,” she said. “I thought you’d prefer a house near your family so I approached your fiancé about buying it.”

“Oh, I do. But why do I have to keep raising chickens? There are plenty of poulterers in Troyes.”

Samuelis chuckled. “Hasn’t Alvina told you that my real business is lending money to women?” When Rachel shook her head, Samuelis continued, “The chickens are only so my clients can visit without suspicion, although it is nice that the baker brings me all sorts of tasty goods in exchange for my eggs.”

Rachel looked at Samuelis with new respect. “All these years, I had no idea.”

“Your grandmother knew, and your mother too.” She handed Rachel a bird-shaped cookie. “Not that I’ve had to lend her money since your engagement.”

Rachel grimaced. Of course, that was back when she’d lost the emerald ring. She stood up and kissed Samuelis’s palm. “I’m honored that you trust me with your business.”

“I’ve noticed that you don’t gossip with the other girls, and from what Alvina tells me, you’re well on your way to learning the trade.” She called for her servant to clear the table. Then she picked up the lamp and led Rachel and Eliezer toward the stairs. “Eliezer, could you show your bride the upstairs rooms? Climbing stairs pains my knees.”

Rachel tried not to hurry, but as soon as they came to a door, Eliezer pulled her inside. Except for a folded-up bedstead, the small room was empty. He took her in his arms.

“Oh, Eliezer.
Merci, merci beaucoup
,” she whispered between kisses. “My own house, I can’t believe it.”

“I was hoping you’d like it.” He pulled her closer.

Eventually she pulled away. “Shouldn’t we see what’s in the other rooms?”

The next room was as empty as the first, and again they reveled in the privacy it provided. When they entered the final room, Rachel let out a soft, “Oh.”

The bed that took up most of the floor space had four tall corner posts, which supported a canopy and curtains that sloped down to protect the bed’s occupants from flying insects. They stared at the huge bed, then at each other, then back at the bed, their thoughts nearly identical. Their own house—now they wouldn’t be sleeping in a room next to her parents (except that Eliezer wasn’t thinking of the word
sleeping
).

“I have a present for you, too, Eliezer.” Rachel smiled shyly and then looked down at the floor. She wanted to tell him, but it was too embarrassing. “While you’re gone, Miriam is going to cut ...” She stopped, blushing. “Miriam is going to open my door, with a knife.”

Eliezer’s expression went from disbelief to relief to near rapture. He picked her up and hugged her so that she could hardly breathe. Fervent kisses followed, and it was only when Samuelis called out, asking if they were all right, that they broke off their embrace. It was just in time. They had no sooner reached the first floor than Salomon was knocking at the door, announcing that it was time for his daughter to come home.

Eliezer left early Sunday morning, joining a large group traveling south. Rachel couldn’t hide her anxiety as she urged him to return safely, but Eliezer wasn’t worried. Sunday was a good day to begin a journey, almost as lucky as Thursday. Coming home for Shavuot was the easiest of his three yearly trips to Arles. Fair weather guaranteed a fresh batch of petitioners and pilgrims heading for Rome, and his route coincided with the first leg of their journey.

But this year was different. In March, King Henry had entered Rome and sacked the city, forcing Pope Gregory to flee to Sicily. Now Henry’s newly appointed pope, Clement, ruled in Rome, while Gregory plotted his revenge in Salerno. Eliezer tried to be optimistic. The war between Henry and Gregory was over, and no matter which of the two popes a man wanted to see, he still had to travel through Arles.

 

Along with other Jews, Rachel continued to count the Omer, the days between Passover and the Giving of the Law on Shavuot, and as she did, she wondered where Eliezer was each night. On the Friday before the festival, Joheved’s family would arrive in Troyes. Rachel couldn’t wait, for Joheved had promised to study the Arayot with her every day.

It wasn’t that Miriam didn’t know the Arayot, but she seemed to have absorbed Judah’s piety and viewed marital relations as “the holy deed” rather than a source of pleasure. Also, between her midwife duties, mohel training, and new baby, she often kept Rachel waiting or postponed their studies until later. Sure enough, it looked like their first session would be just Rachel and Joheved, when Miriam hurried in to Samuelis’s salon, baby Shimson in her arms.

She sat down and adjusted her chemise so Shimson could find her breast. “I’m sorry I’m late. What tractate are you on?”

“I thought we’d go over that Baraita at the end of chapter two of Nedarim, the one about the ministering angels,” Joheved replied. “Papa hasn’t written any commentary on it, so it should be interesting for the three of us to work on it.”

She handed the manuscript to Rachel and pointed out where to start reading.

Rachel put down the page and addressed her sisters, “Lame ones, mute ones? What is he talking about?”

Miriam was about to answer when Rachel continued, “I can see the text concerns using the bed, but does he mean that the parents become lame or their children are born lame? And what is ‘turning over the table?’ ”

Miriam remembered how she’d seduced Judah on Simchat Torah. “Maybe it’s when the woman is on top.” She paused for a moment. “But that can’t be right. Couples sometimes do that when the woman is pregnant, and they don’t become lame. Their children aren’t born lame either.”

Rachel recalled hearing how Joheved captured the image of sheep mating to cure Meir of impotency. “Maybe it’s like animals do, from behind. Then the woman would be turned over.”

“But that’s another position women use during pregnancy,” Miriam said, shaking her head.

“Meir says that ‘turning over the table’ refers to
biah shelo kedarkah
—like men do with each other,” Joheved said.

“But you can’t get pregnant that way,” Miriam objected.

“And you can’t get pregnant by kissing ‘that place’ either,” Joheved shot back. Then she relaxed and turned to Rachel. “Speaking of that place, how did your surgery go?”

“It hurt terribly when Miriam cut me, so I shudder to think how my wedding night would have been otherwise. But my flowers ended like usual after five days, and I’m nearly done with my clean days, thank Heaven.”

She reached over and squeezed Miriam’s hand. “You have such a gentle touch that when my first son is born, I want you to do his
brit milah
.”

“Even if it’s my first one?”

“Especially if it’s your first one,” Rachel replied.

“Who better to honor with your first
milah
than your own family?” Joheved said.

“I never liked the idea of a man doing all those things with the baby right in my lap,” Rachel said. “It’s immodest.”

Joheved winced. “Don’t say that. That’s the excuse people use to argue that circumcision shouldn’t be done in the mother’s lap.”

“Of course a mother should hold her son at such a time; he needs her comfort,” Rachel said. “My argument is for women to do the circumcising.”

“The mohel is completely focused on the baby,” Miriam said. “I’m sure I wouldn’t notice who was holding him.”

“I certainly wouldn’t have trusted Obadiah to do my son’s
milah
in my lap,” Rachel said. “Considering how he leered at me when he was a student.”

“Let’s not speak unkindly of Obadiah,” Miriam said. “Not after what happened to him.”

Rachel and Joheved both grimaced. Obadiah didn’t wear a bandage anymore, but his deformed right hand, its burned fingers stuck together like a fish’s fin, was a constant reminder of the vagaries of life.

Joheved held up the manuscript. “Let’s get back to our text.”

“How can conversing at the time of relations be bad?” Rachel asked. She couldn’t imagine using the bed without some talking first.

“Apparently the Gemara wonders about that too,” Joheved replied. “Listen to what it says next: