Rashi's Daughters, Book III: Rachel (30 page)

The next few days were heavenly. Daily downpours, for February was the height of Toledo’s rainy season, prevented her from studying outside, but Eliezer arrived home shortly after sunset, and they spent much of the long nights in bed. But that was one of the few things they did together. Except on Shabbat, men and women dined separately, and at synagogue they entered through different doors. Once inside, the women’s pews were hidden behind a wall with only a small grill looking into the sanctuary.

On their first Shabbat in Toledo, the afternoon skies cleared sufficiently that Eliezer took her to see one of the town’s most prized sites, al-Zarqālī’s water clock. Located in a wide plaza on the waterfront, the clock was fashioned out of marble and decorated with life-sized paintings of men and elephants. Rachel had to admit that it looked impressive shining in the sunlight.

“See those two basins?” Eliezer pointed to the large vessels, which were marked with many parallel lines. “Al-Zarqālī designed the clock so they fill and empty according to the waxing or waning of the moon.”

“So?” Rachel saw nothing extraordinary happening.

“Pipes underneath the plaza lead to the river. At the moment the new moon appears on the horizon, water flows into the empty basins at a rate carefully calculated so that at dawn each basin contains one-fourth of a seventh part, and at sunset one-half a seventh part of the water required to fill them. The water continues to flow in this manner until a week has passed.” He paused and looked at her questioningly.

“At which time both basins will be half full,” Rachel said in awe, realizing that the clock’s unseen mechanism was actually more impressive than its appearance.

“Over the next seven days and nights, this process continues until the two basins fill completely when the moon is at its fullest.” Eliezer’s voice became more animated. “Then on the fifteenth night of the month, just as the moon wanes, the basins begin to lose one-half of a seventh part of their water each day until . . .”

Rachel continued, “Until they are half empty on the twenty-first of the month and completely empty when the moon reaches her twenty-ninth night.”

Eliezer led her to another, smaller, device nearby. “And this clock, by means of cleverly designed valves and pumps, fills and empties over the course of a day, so that by comparing the water level to the marks painted on it, we can see what hour it is.” He pointed to the vessels, which were almost empty. “See, we have slightly more than two hours left until sunset.”

“And only five more days until the full moon,” Rachel added. She stopped and stared at Eliezer. Her flowers, which usually came on the tenth of the month, hadn’t arrived.

She said nothing of this and asked instead, “These water clocks are remarkable devices, but why were they made?”

Eliezer, thinking she’d asked how they were made, began explaining, “The clock is constructed so that water drips out at a constant rate, and its mechanism is then calibrated so that it measures how much time has passed.”

“I realize that.” She cut him off. “What I want to know is why someone would go to all this effort to tell what hour it is when we can just wait for the church bells to chime.”

“But they only chime every three hours.”

“Why do I need to know when it’s one hour past noon?” She glanced over at the clock’s display. “Or two hours until sunset? And if for some reason I did, what’s wrong with using a sundial?”

As if in reply, the sun disappeared behind a cloud and Eliezer looked at her triumphantly. “With a water clock you can tell the hour even on a cloudy day or at night.”

Rachel still didn’t see any great urgency to know the time so precisely, but clearly Eliezer thought this was important. “But why create the big one? Surely they have calendars here.”

“The Saracens declare a new month when they see the new moon, but if it’s overcast, they can rely on al-Zarqālī’s water clock.” The clouds were darkening precipitously, so he took her arm, adding, “We’d better head back.”

She tried to remember how they’d reached the plaza, and though she recognized the landmarks they passed, the twisting, mazelike streets thwarted her efforts. The only route she could negotiate on her own was the short distance from the main road to their lodgings. How long would she have to live in Toledo before she wouldn’t feel so lost?

Raindrops began splattering on the cobblestones, causing Eliezer to increase their pace. But Rachel’s mind was still in the plaza. “Why do you care so much what time it is?”

“For those of us studying at al-Zarqālī’s observatory, charting how stars move, we must have the ability to measure time precisely. We have clocks there that are accurate to the smallest portion of an hour.”

For a moment Rachel was too shocked to speak. “You’re studying astronomy? What happened to your Talmud studies?”

“Here in Sepharad, Talmud expertise is not sufficient for a man to be considered learned,” he defended himself. “Unless a man also knows philosophy, mathematics, and astronomy, the Spaniards judge him ignorant.”

“But everything a man needs to know is in the Talmud; secular subjects take time away from Torah study.”
What have these people done to my husband, replacing his Torah knowledge with astronomy?

Eliezer shook his head. “
Non
, in the seventh chapter of Tractate Shabbat, Rabbi Shimon ben Pazzi said in the name of Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi:

But Rachel only saw Eliezer’s Torah knowledge draining away, like the water in al-Zarqālī’s clock, to be replaced with foreign philosophy, mathematics, and astronomy.

Eliezer could tell that she was unconvinced. “Belle, I’m not giving up Talmud. As Rabbi Elazar ben Chisma said in Pirke Avot:

Torah is like bread—you must have it. But people like me need spices with their bread.”

“Yet if you only eat spices, you will starve.”

Their argument came to an abrupt halt when the skies opened and they had to race home to escape the downpour. Even so, their clothes were soaked when they got indoors, and after quickly disrobing, conversation gave way to a more pleasant way to pass what remained of the stormy afternoon.

 

Rachel attempted to explore her surroundings the next day, but twice she had to pay a boy on the street to return her to Calle del Ángel. After accidentally venturing onto streets where women weren’t welcome, she discovered that the best way to escape her neighborhood was to attend funerals. Death, regretfully, made no distinction between men and women.

The Jewish cemetery was located outside the city, and consequently most funerals proceeded along Calle del Ángel on their way to Jews’ Gate, Toledo’s northernmost exit. Rachel could hear the wailing and chanting of psalms as a funeral party drew near, enabling her to throw on a black cloak and follow them. Then, when the rite was finished, it was a simple matter to join someone heading back in her direction.

It seemed odd that mourners dressed in black: she couldn’t help but imagine a procession of monks and nuns. Nowhere else did people wear special clothes to a funeral. But that was the custom in Toledo, and with a Jewish population of five thousand, there were enough funerals to make owning a black outfit a necessity.

Strange also was Toledo’s custom of burying the dead in their shrouds, eschewing coffins. The first time Rachel saw a funeral procession, the corpse carried high above it, she’d stopped and stared in horror. A light drizzle caused the woman’s body to be clearly outlined under the damp shroud. But more upsetting were all the precious objects deposited in the grave. She didn’t know which was worse—women buried with jewelry or men entombed with their books. It was clear that the Jews of Toledo needed to study fewer secular subjects and more Talmud; the Sages strongly objected to such a wasteful practice.

On the day of the full moon, with a sky so clear she didn’t need al-Zarqālī’s clock to advise her of the date, her flowers began. That night Eliezer didn’t return until it was almost dawn, and the next day, Friday, he reminded her that women in Sepharad didn’t attend synagogue while they were
niddah
.

Rachel was outraged. “Even on Shabbat?” There was no point in asking why—the reason wouldn’t matter anyway.

“That’s the tradition here.”

“But I’m a stranger.” She smiled slyly. “How will they know I’m
niddah
?”

“If you go to services every week, without eventually appearing pregnant, someone will notice. Besides, you and I would know, and we have no right to violate their rules.”

Eliezer’s tone of voice made it clear that he would not allow her to accompany him the next morning. So Rachel pretended to acquiesce and stayed in bed until he left for services. Once the house was quiet, she dressed and hurried to Calle del Ángel, where she didn’t have to wait long before a group of well-dressed women and children passed her, heading up the hill. None looked familiar, so she followed them.

Toledo had at least a dozen synagogues; she could go to a different one each Shabbat when she was
niddah
, and no one would be the wiser—so long as she returned home before Eliezer.

Rachel had counted on the women returning the same way after services, but when they turned to walk farther up the hill instead, she realized her mistake. They were likely dining elsewhere and wouldn’t be coming home for hours. In a panic Rachel hurried downhill, hoping against hope that she’d find her way. Confident that the women would lead her back to Calle del Ángel, she’d paid little attention to their route. And since it was the Sabbath, she carried no coins with which to pay a guide.

It was past noon when she finally reached her lodgings, and she desperately needed to change her
mokh
and the wool in her
sinar
. Eliezer had to be home already, and he’d know she was lying if she said she’d merely been taking a walk.

She stood in the courtyard and steeled herself for another argument with her husband. But before she felt composed, two figures stood up from one of the benches and walked in her direction. One of them was Eliezer, but the other was . . .

seventeen

Milo stepped forward, his features etched with sympathy. “My lady Joheved sent me. Mistress Rachel, your mother is very ill and wants to see you . . . before she dies.”

Rachel staggered backward. Milo took a moment to realize that Eliezer wasn’t going to steady her, and then reached for her arm. “Are you able to leave tomorrow?”

Tears filling her eyes, Rachel gave Eliezer a questioning look. It would be a week until she could immerse, too long to delay. Unless he left with her, she wouldn’t even be able to hug him good-bye.

“I must stay in Toledo.” Eliezer gazed at her pleadingly. “The winter caravan from Maghreb hasn’t arrived yet.”

Rachel nodded weakly. Of course she had to return to Troyes, no matter how much she preferred to stay with her husband.

Eliezer turned to Milo. “You’ll have to escort my wife for me, but I don’t see how you can stay at any inns if you are to protect both her person and her reputation.” It was unthinkable that Milo should share Rachel’s room; yet it would not be safe for her to sleep alone either.

“My lady’s father prepared me for that eventuality. He recommended several Jewish communities on our return route where we may obtain hospitality, especially on the Sabbath, and I have a list of convents as well.”

“Convents?” Rachel’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“
Oui
. Most have guest quarters for ladies. Since all good Christians are fasting from meat for Lent, you needn’t worry about forbidden foods.”

“I see your return was carefully planned,” Eliezer said, buffeted with conflicting feelings.

While he didn’t like his wife traveling alone with the handsome young steward, he consoled himself that Milo was too smitten with Joheved to attempt to seduce her sister. And though he would greatly miss Rachel’s sweet company, he felt a guilty relief at being able to spend clear nights at the observatory without feeling he was neglecting his wife. Now when Shavuot arrived and he finally had to leave, he and Abraham bar Hiyya might have sufficient results from their surveillance of the heavens to prove that Ptolemy’s planetary orbits were incorrect.

 

Bundled in furs, Rachel left with Milo early the next morning. The palfrey Eudes bequeathed her had no trouble keeping up with Milo’s mount, and the two travelers covered far more ground each day than Rachel and Eliezer had done in the other direction. There was no difficulty finding Jews to house them in Sepharad and Provence, but as they rode further into Aquitaine, Rachel found herself sleeping with nuns as well.

Oddly enough there were more clerics than Jews on the road, so many that often every table at a roadside inn was occupied when Rachel and Milo arrived for
disner
. Between the stink of cooked fish and a roomful of men who never bathed, Rachel was in no mood to tarry.

“In all my travels, I’ve never seen such a multitude of churchmen, and their retainers, on the move,” Rachel complained when they were finally seated.

“It was just as crowded on my way to Toledo,” he said. “Pope Urban has called a church council to meet at Piacenza in early March.”