Rashi's Daughters, Book II: Miriam (44 page)

It was clear what Joseph wanted. “Surely all would agree that Johanna’s jewelry and other belongings should be given to her son,” Judah said slowly. “And that Joseph may give little Samson his books.”

Shemayah frowned. “He should also give the boy his clothes, shoes, and furs. Fleur’s next husband shouldn’t have them.”

“I think it would be wise to leave some personal property for Fleur, perhaps the household furnishings,” Meir suggested. “We don’t want people to say your son is robbing her.”

Joseph was nearing exhaustion when he finished naming the property that would be valuable to Samson and whose loss was unlikely to outrage Fleur’s family. But he motioned for the men to remain.

“One more thing.” Joseph looked up at Salomon, tears in his eyes. “It was my wife’s wish that our two families should be related. Give my son one of your granddaughters for his bride. I’m sure my father will make it worth your while. Let me die knowing that my little boy’s future is assured.”

Salomon walked over and clasped Joseph on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, my friend, but I cannot betroth my granddaughters. Only their father can do that.”

All eyes turned to Meir, whose gaze darted around the room, looking for an escape. “I can’t make that kind of decision now. Our children are too young.”

“But when my daughter Zipporah was just an infant, you agreed that Isaac would marry her,” Shemayah said.

The color drained from Meir’s face. “Our situation is different, Shemayah, entirely different.” He looked sadly at the dying man. “Joseph, you must realize that my daughter must marry a
talmid chacham
. Samson seems a capable child, but ...”

Joseph slumped in his bed. “I understand.” Then hope lit his eyes. “But what about a tentative arrangement, that you’ll consider Samson as a future son-in-law, if he proves worthy?”

“I take no oaths.” Meir paused to choose his words. “But be assured that when the time comes to choose husbands for my daughters, I will give Samson’s suit full consideration.”

Moses haCohen now stepped forward. “My patient has had enough excitement for today.” In an obvious dismissal, he picked up Joseph’s wrist and concentrated on the sick man’s pulse.

 

For weeks, every time Meir returned to Ramerupt his stomach knotted in dread as he waited for Joheved’s reaction to Shemayah publicly announcing their children’s future marriage. Meir knew it was cowardly, but he’d only told Joheved about Joseph’s desire for a match between little Samson and Hannah or Leah. And he made it clear that no agreement had been reached.

Only when Joseph died a month later, did Meir breathe a sigh of relief. With Fleur’s family complaining loudly about Joseph’s deathbed gifts, people in Troyes could speak of little else. If Shemayah’s words had not reached Joheved by now, each passing day made it less likely that they would.

So when Meir got off his horse in Ramerupt and Joheved turned aside from his customary kiss, he thought she was upset because he had left Isaac and Shmuel in Troyes.

“Don’t be angry at the boys,” he explained as they walked toward the barn. “Everyone wants to celebrate with Elisha and his friends before they leave for Worms tomorrow.” Meir had to smile as he imagined Judah chaperoning the high-spirited students to their fellow’s wedding.

But the smile froze on his face when Joheved said, in a voice as hard as steel, “Francesca came to visit today, and she congratulated me on the excellent matches my children have made—Samson with Hannah and Isaac’s engagement to Zipporah.”

Meir’s heart began to pound. “But there isn’t anything definite between Joseph’s son and either of our daughters. You know that. I told you exactly what I said to him.”

“I’m not talking about our daughters.” Joheved’s eyes narrowed. “I was led to believe that you and Shemayah were going to keep your agreement to yourselves, and now I hear that half the town knows about it.”

He couldn’t deny what had been said. “The only people who heard Shemayah were Moses, Judah, your father, Joseph, and Isaac haParnas. Not half the town.”

“Just the most influential men in town then.”

“Just members of our family and our closest friends, who have every right to know about our decision.”

Joheved put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Not our decision, your decision.”

“A decision I’m not going to change.”

“Not when you have such a powerful beit din as witnesses.”

Meir grabbed Joheved’s arms and forced her to face him. “I thought that you’d accepted my authority in this matter.”

His anger grew as her eyes blazed defiance. “Ever since I told you, you’ve been plotting how to prevent it, haven’t you?” He pulled her closer, so their faces were just a handbreadth apart. “Well, I won’t stand for it. Isaac is going to marry Zipporah, and you’re not going to do anything to stop them. I may even decide to betroth Shmuel to Shemayah’s new daughter as well.”

Joheved wrenched herself from his grasp. “If you love Shemayah so much, why don’t you go sleep with him?”

“What did you say?”

“Since you’re so fond of Shemayah, you can get on your horse and ride back to your precious study partner right now.” She practically spat the words at him.

“All right—I will!” He grabbed his horse’s reins and started for the barn door. “And don’t expect me to come groveling back to you.”

“Just get out of my sight.” She picked up a horseshoe and threw it at him, but Meir was already outside and it bounced harmlessly off the door behind him.

 

That night Joheved was too angry to get much sleep, and the next night, even with both Hannah and Leah in bed with her, she was too lonely and dejected. She managed to fall asleep eventually, only to wake at dawn with an unfamiliar wetness between her legs.

“Oh
non
.” Joheved nearly started crying at the sight of the stained sheets.

“What’s the matter, Mama?” Hannah stared fearfully at the blood running down her mother’s legs. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m perfectly fine.” Joheved grabbed some of Leah’s swaddling and shoved it between her legs while she rummaged through the chest.
Where the devil is my sinar?

“But you’re bleeding,” Hannah insisted.

“It’s nothing. All women bleed from time to time. You will too when you’re older.” Joheved cleaned up and settled back to nurse her youngest child. How could she have her flowers again so soon? Leah was only eighteen months old.

The next day Miriam arrived with Yom Tov and Shimson, to help with the lambing, and, despite her flowers, Joheved was disappointed when the sun set on Friday with no sign of Meir and her own sons. Miriam said nothing about his absence, yet she must have noticed that something was amiss.

As the week wore on, Joheved’s anxiety grew. Meir never stayed away so long unless the weather made riding impossible. Yet if anything had happened to him or one of the boys, somebody would have ridden out to tell her. Was he still so upset over their argument? Was he already announcing at the synagogue that she was a
moredet
, a rebellious woman who refused to cohabit with her husband?
Non
, that wasn’t possible—Papa would have come and spoken to her.

Often Joheved could feel Miriam’s penetrating gaze, and while she longed for advice, she was ashamed to approach her. It was only after Meir didn’t come home for a second Shabbat that Joheved’s misery overcame her embarrassment. Still, Miriam had to make the first move.

“It’s not like Meir to be away so long without letting us know,” Miriam said as they inspected the neatly pruned vineyard.

“Oh, Miriam, we had the most awful fight.” Tears began to well in Joheved’s eyes. “You must have heard that Shemayah announced Isaac and Zipporah’s engagement.”

Miriam nodded.
So that’s what this is about
. “Francesca told me.”

“Now Meir is committed to the match more than ever,” Joheved said with a sniff. “It’s a terrible mistake, yet there’s nothing I can do.”

Miriam held Joheved as she sobbed. Joheved wouldn’t like it, but there was one thing she could do. “You know it’s a woman’s duty to obey her husband.”

“I know that having Adam rule over her was one of Eve’s punishments, and so it is for all women. I have no choice.”

“You do have a choice.”

Joheved looked at Miriam in surprise. “I do?”

“You can accept how the Holy One created you, count your many blessings, and give in gracefully. Or you can continue to thwart your husband’s will and become increasingly unhappy and bitter.” Among Miriam’s clients were far too many of the latter.

Joheved knew her sister was right. Besides, she couldn’t stand another day wondering if Meir was going to ride through the manor gates or not. “Tomorrow is my seventh clean day,” she said, her cheeks coloring. “If we leave after Hannah’s nap, we can be in Troyes before sunset.”

 

The next morning dawned cloudy and cold, and by midday the smell of snow was in the air. Miriam and Joheved hurriedly bundled their children in furs and set out for Troyes.

“So you heard the news from Francesca,” Joheved said as they rode into the forest. “I’m surprised Judah didn’t tell you.”

Miriam pulled Yom Tov’s arms tighter around her waist. It was easier with him sitting behind her and Shimson in her lap, but she wished she could see him. “There was so much to do before Judah left for Worms that he probably forgot.”

“He won’t be home for Passover?” Joheved asked in surprise. In all his years studying in Allemagne, their father had always spent the festivals in Troyes.

“Judah and Elisha have become quite devoted to one another since Elisha came back at the Cold Fair,” Miriam said. “When we heard he was betrothed, I suggested that Judah go to Worms for the wedding. But Judah will be at Uncle Isaac’s in Mayence for Passover, and I’ve asked him to visit Catharina’s family while he’s there.”

Joheved stared at the dark clouds and urged her horse to go faster. “I hope Judah gave you a conditional
get
.”

“Of course. After what happened to Eliezer’s father and brother, Papa insisted on it.”

Jewish husbands were expected to give their wives a conditional bill of divorce when they went on a journey; it prevented her from becoming
agunah
, “chained to him,” and unable to remarry should he disappear or die without witnesses. The usual clause, as in the
get
Judah wrote before he left, said she could accept the divorce if he hadn’t returned after six months.

Miriam smiled. “Judah is so happy to have a friend here. I think he envies Meir and Shemayah’s special relationship.”

Joheved grimaced at the trouble that special friendship had caused her. “I didn’t realize Judah and Elisha were that close.”

“I love to sit with them when they study together,” Miriam said. “You can feel the affection between them.”

“You sound like you’ve grown fond of Elisha yourself.”

“
Oui
, he is a sweet boy.” Miriam thought back to how she’d agonized about Elisha last summer. They didn’t need to worry about him killing himself now.

“So besides Judah and Elisha becoming best friends, what else have I missed this winter?” Joheved asked.

“There’s the problem of Joseph dying without leaving Fleur enough money to pay her
ketubah
.”

“I know, Francesca told me. Finally our town has something to argue about other than you doing circumcisions.”

Miriam tightened her grip on Shimson as her horse sped up to match Joheved’s pace. “I think Avram may have me do a full
milah
this spring. Several of my patients want me to perform the circumcision if they have boys.”

“You sound excited.”

“I am. I’ve been preparing for so long, I’m ready.”

Joheved chuckled. “I guess I’ll have to come into town for every
brit milah
, no matter how many lamb buyers we have. I’m not going to miss your first one.”

Her laughter died and she grew silent as they rode out of the forest, past the newly plowed fields and toward the city walls.
What am I going to say to Meir when I see him?

Their mother ran into the courtyard when the gate closed behind them. “Joheved, what are you doing here? Is everything all right in Ramerupt?”

“There’s nothing wrong in Ramerupt.” Joheved exchanged glances with Miriam. “I need to use the
mikvah
.”

Rivka hustled her grandchildren into the warm house. “I’d better put some clean sheets on your bed.”

“Joheved, is that you?” Aunt Sarah stood at the foot of the stairs, peering up at them. “It sounds like you.”

“
Oui
, Aunt Sarah. I just arrived.”

“Aren’t you here early?”

Joheved tried not to frown.
Will I need to explain my presence to everyone?
“All the lambs are born and we’ve finished pruning the vineyard, so I thought I’d spend a few days in town before Passover.”

“Where is everyone?” Miriam asked.

“Your father has them out in the vineyard, trying to finish the pruning before it starts snowing,” Rivka said.

“Not everyone,” Sarah interrupted. “Shmuel is napping.”

“I know you’ll excuse me to go see my son.” Joheved gave her mother a hurried kiss and made for the stairs.

But Shmuel had already heard her voice. “Mama!” He ran and jumped into her arms. “Papa said we wouldn’t see you until Passover.”

Joheved smiled at Miriam. At least Meir had been planning to return to Ramerupt for the festival. But what would he say when he saw her? She managed to fight her panic until she heard men’s voices outside. Then her heart started to pound as Shmuel flew out the door, yelling, “Papa, Papa! Mama’s here.”

Before she could compose herself, Meir was silhouetted in the doorframe. “There’s nothing wrong at home, is there?” he asked, taking several steps in her direction. “My mother . . .”

“Marona is well and our daughters are fine too. In fact the girls are here with me.”