Rashi's Daughters, Book II: Miriam (48 page)

“Papa says an unmarried man might become attracted to the mothers who bring their sons to him every day.” Rachel frowned. “The author of this Mishnah clearly thinks that bachelors have no control whatsoever, that they’ll sin with their students and with the mothers of their students.”

Joheved shook her head. “You’d think so too if you knew some of Count André’s knights and squires.”

“Not that married men are any better,” Rachel said.

Miriam could only imagine the unwanted attention her beautiful sister had attracted on her travels. “If a woman can’t teach young children because of their fathers, then shouldn’t I be permitted to teach the children in my family?”

“You may also teach Samson,” Joheved said, adding more wool to her distaff. “He’s an orphan.”

“Of course you’re allowed to teach them. Otherwise Papa would have stopped you,” Rachel said. “I wonder why the Sages don’t suspect Israel of
mishkav zachur
. Papa skips that line.”

“Jewish men don’t lie with each other because it’s a serious sin,” Joheved said.

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Just like they don’t commit adultery either.”

“It doesn’t say that Jews don’t lie with other men,” Miriam reminded them. “Only that we don’t suspect them of it. And our Mishnah certainly suspects them of adultery.”

“Maybe we’re not supposed to suspect Jews of
mishkav zachur
because we don’t want them even thinking about it,” Joheved said.

Rachel nodded. “A man who keeps wondering who’s doing
mishkav zachur
might be inclined to seek out one of them to do it himself.”

“We don’t suspect Jews, especially scholars, of
mishkav zachur
because we always want to believe the best of them,” Miriam said, thinking of Elisha. “We presume that they are law-abiding.”

 

The cloth fair had been open for a week when Eliezer came in late for
disner
, accompanied by a swarthy young man whose bushy moustache couldn’t quite conceal a pronounced overbite.

“Meet Giuseppe.” Eliezer redid the place settings to make a spot at the table next to Elisha. “He’s from Lucca, where his family owns some merchant ships. He’s here to find business opportunities for them.” Eliezer elbowed Elisha at the words “business opportunities.”

“Welcome to Troyes, Giuseppe,” Elisha said. “Or would you prefer to be called Joseph?”

“Giuseppe is the name I’m used to ...” He hesitated as Miriam set out a wine cup for him. “There’s no need to honor me with my own cup. I’m not a
talmid chacham
like the other merchants who dine here.”

“You should join my husband and his students for Talmud study while you’re in Troyes,” Miriam said. Lucca was known for its Talmud academy; this young man was probably being modest.

“Oh no.” Giuseppe’s blush deepened. “I’ve only studied a little Mishnah.”

Elisha smiled at the stranger. “So listen to us study.”

Judah bristled at the eagerness in Elisha’s voice, until he realized that the sooner Elisha found a business partner, the sooner he could stop wasting time looking for one.

“
Oui
, listen and ask questions,” Judah said. “Papa says that beginning students have the best questions.”

Salomon confirmed Judah’s words. “As it says in Pirke Avot,

Which means especially those who are lesser than him, both in years and in knowledge.”

Despite this encouragement, Giuseppe remained silent as the others discussed that morning’s lesson. Yet his face communicated his feelings—enjoyment as Judah helped the students sort out the various arguments, awe as Elisha and Eliezer debated a particularly convoluted passage, and astonishment whenever one of Salomon’s daughters asked a question or added her interpretation.

As the meal continued, Miriam noticed Giuseppe looking confused, so she poked her sister in the ribs and asked him, “What goods did you bring to sell?”
Maybe he has jewelry.

Rachel understood that she should also engage their guest on the subject. “If I remember properly, Lucca imports silk from Palermo. Am I correct, Giuseppe?”

The young man looked startled at being addressed, but he quickly recovered. “My wife’s family is in the silk business there,” Giuseppe said. “But on this first trip I only brought pepper and cinnamon, which I’ve already sold.”

“So what are you going to do for the rest of the fair?” Rachel asked.

“I’d planned to spend my time at the fairgrounds, observing the procedures and trying to meet Ashkenazi merchants. Then, once I found a business partner, we’d decide together which goods to take back to Lucca.” Giuseppe looked around the room uncertainly. “But I didn’t realize everyone here spent so much time studying Torah. I must appear ignorant in comparison.”

Miriam wanted to say something to console him, but he was right. Most merchants preferred dealing with a
chacham
. A Talmud scholar, thoroughly versed in commercial and tort law, was assumed to be both intelligent and trustworthy.

“All the more reason why you should join us,” Eliezer said.

 

When Joheved returned to Ramerupt for the wheat harvest, Miriam and Rachel continued to study Talmud together in the morning and evening. In the afternoon, when Miriam’s nausea diminished, they did business with a constant stream of women who wanted to buy jewelry, sell jewelry, pawn jewelry, or any combination of these. Alvina had sent word that, instead of attending the Hot Fair, she would come for the Cold Fair and see her new grandchild.

One morning Miriam talked Rachel into weeding her herb garden while they worked on memorizing the latest piece of Gemara and their young sons played in the mud by the well. Expecting no interruptions, Miriam was surprise to see a man in a white robe hesitantly enter the courtyard. He had very short blond hair and was beardless, which was a shame because he had such a weak chin.

As soon as he saw them, his hesitancy disappeared. “
Bonjour
, I am Guy de Dampierre. I would like to buy some of your best wine for my Uncle Hugues, bishop of Troyes.”

Miriam knew that Papa would never want his wine used in the cathedral’s idolatrous rites. “I’m sorry, but it’s all we can do to satisfy our Jewish customers until the fall harvest.” The bishop of Troyes was a powerful lord; she needed a plausible excuse for refusing him.

“Why are you wearing a white robe?” Rachel asked. “Are you a monk?” The brown-robed Benedictines were a familiar sight. The monks from Montier-la-Celle delivered grapes every fall, and occasionally one stopped by with a letter from Papa’s old friend, Robert, abbot of Molesme.

“I’m a canon at the cathedral’s school.” Guy ignored their dismissal. “Canons are church scholars, but unlike monks we do not practice poverty and chastity. A more important difference, however, is that we believe scholarship is equally important as contemplation and prayer.”

He continued with a small smile, “If your best wine is not available, perhaps I could taste another cask and see if it meets my uncle’s standards ?”

Miriam and Rachel exchanged worried looks, each wondering how they could rid themselves of this cleric without insulting him. Neither made any move toward the cellar.

Rachel broke the silence. Giving the canon her sweetest smile, she acted disappointed. “Please don’t be offended, but we cannot sell the bishop any wine. Our father would be very upset if his wine were used for church ceremonies.”

Miriam waited for Guy’s angry response, but he started laughing. “Use your excellent wine in the church! I’d sooner water the garden with it.” He chuckled and added, “I’m sure you don’t remember me, but I attended the banquet for your nephew in Ramerupt a few years ago. I still recall the fine vintage I tasted there.”

Guy then made an incredible offer. “As payment for wine for his personal table, Uncle Hugues will supply your household with bread from his mills.”

Miriam took a sharp intake of breath. All wheat grown in Champagne had to be ground in Count Thibault’s mills, with a tithe going to the ruler. Many churches and abbeys were endowed with produce from these mills, and of course the Cathedral of Peter and Paul, the count’s personal church, received this benefice.

“We have a large household,” Rachel said slowly. “My father’s academy has twenty students who board with us.”

Miriam stood up and brushed the soil off her hands. “Why don’t you let the canon taste some of our wine while I get Shimson washed up?” she said. “Then we can bring his offer to Papa and let him decide.”

Rachel could never understand why her sister bathed Shimson personally; that’s what maidservants were for. So she called for Jeanne when Miriam headed for the well.

Miriam knew Rachel thought she was silly, but she picked up Shimson and gently lowered him into the washtub that she’d filled earlier, guaranteeing that the cold well water would be tepid when she needed it. He squealed and giggled as she splashed and washed him, and only reluctantly gave up his place in the tub to his younger cousin when Jeanne brought out the towels.

Upon exiting the cellar, Rachel rolled her eyes at Miriam’s damp hair and
bliaut
. But Guy grinned as she expertly dried her squirming son. “I still remember your father’s lesson on Noah’s ark,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting such erudition at a banquet. I look forward to meeting him.”

Guy not only talked Salomon into selling wine to the bishop, but he wangled an invitation for
disner
. There he made a creditable showing in their discussion of that day’s Torah portion. And when Salomon discovered that the canon, after studying in Paris, had been appointed to improve the quality of Troyes’ cathedral school, the conversation turned to methods of teaching and motivating students.

After that, Guy made an effort to dine with them once a week, and occasionally he accompanied Salomon into the vineyard to continue their discussions. How do we reconcile revelation with reason in such a way that faith is strengthened? Shouldn’t guilt reflect the intention of the sin rather than its outcome, thus making contrition and confession more important than restitution? How should the deeper or mystical meanings of scripture be understood without ignoring the plain sense of the text?

Sometimes Salomon busied himself in the vineyard while Guy demonstrated how grammar, rhetoric, and logic were taught in the cathedral schools, but usually it was Guy who listened as Salomon explained the intricacies of interpreting scripture. In any case, it was clear to Miriam that her father was pleased to find a replacement for Robert, who had no time to visit now that he headed his own abbey.

 

While Guy limited his visits to Salomon’s to Monday or Thursday, the days Torah was read in synagogue, Giuseppe ate all his meals at Judah’s table, where the subject was Talmud. He smiled and nodded while following the students’ debates, but he never interrupted them. He conducted business in the afternoon, and as often as not returned for
souper
accompanied by Elisha.

One evening in early August, the two young men burst into the dining room, both grinning widely.

“Judah, I’m so happy,” Elisha said. “Giuseppe and I have been discussing a partnership agreement, and today I introduced him to my father.”

Judah returned his smile. “It doesn’t take a
talmid chacham
to determine that your father approved.”

“We’ll work out the details during the fair and then travel to Lucca to present the offer to my family,” Giuseppe said.

“But Elisha, what about your baby?” Miriam asked. “Don’t you want to be there when your wife gives birth?”

“We won’t stay in Lucca long.” Elisha threw his arm around his new partner’s shoulders. “Giuseppe and I will be back in Worms in plenty of time. And once my child is safely born, we’ll come back for the Cold Fair.”

Judah fought the envy building in him as Elisha and Giuseppe enthusiastically shared their plans for the future—sailing the Mediterranean together, from one fascinating city to the next. His envy grew when, instead of returning home with Judah after the evening Talmud session, Elisha stayed out later with Giuseppe—so late that he still wasn’t back when Judah left before dawn to study with the Eastern scholars. It didn’t help that one of Miriam’s pregnant clients had needed her in the middle of the night, leaving him alone in bed.

So Judah couldn’t resist goading Elisha after morning services. “I was worried when I didn’t see you at breakfast.”

“I’m sorry, but Giuseppe and I wanted to celebrate,” Elisha said with a sheepish grin. “I ended up drinking so much that I fell asleep at the tavern.”

Giuseppe laughingly added, “He may look small, but he was such a dead weight last night that it took two men to carry him to bed.”

The students at Judah’s table joined in the laughter, and Elisha blushed crimson. Judah didn’t even try to hide his irritation when he admonished the class not to waste time from their Talmud studies on gossip.

Chagrined, the discussion returned to Tractate Kiddushin. The section was difficult, with a debate so complicated that there were over thirty steps in the argument. Each step had to be thrashed out until Judah was certain that all the students understood it. Then they continued with the next one.

Giuseppe seemed to be following along, and Judah was peevishly considering asking the young man to explain one of the steps, when Giuseppe hesitatingly said, “Excuse me . . .”

Every head turned toward him.

“
Oui?
” Judah asked. “Do you have a question?”

“There’s something I don’t understand,” Giuseppe said softly. “Probably I missed the explanation when you gave it earlier.”

“Nobody remembers everything they hear the first time they hear it,” Judah said. He gazed sternly at the other students, silently warning them not to laugh or otherwise ridicule Giuseppe’s question.

“I know I haven’t studied much Talmud, but I don’t understand why the Gemara says women are exempt from Torah study because of what is written in Deuteronomy,” he began.