Rashi's Daughters, Book III: Rachel (52 page)

Salomon suddenly realized what else Rachel had achieved. “Between producing wine and woolens, none of the family will need to leave Troyes to earn a livelihood. They can all become Torah scholars.”

Shemiah joined their conversation. “But Papa wants me to come to Sepharad and import dyestuffs with him.”

Rachel couldn’t bring herself to ask her son to choose between her and Eliezer, but Salomon saw only one choice—Torah. “And what do you want?” he asked.

“I want to stay here and study Talmud with you, Grandpapa,” Shemiah promptly replied.

Rachel proudly watched her son and father embrace. It wasn’t only her sisters’ sons who’d become scholars; Shemiah would be a
talmid chacham
too. And he wouldn’t have to be separated from his new wife either.

 

Rachel and her children returned to Troyes for Purim, where another storm kept her at home for a week. One afternoon they dined with Moses haCohen’s family, forcing her to miss Guy de Dampierre’s visit.

At home Salomon pulled out a chair for the canon, but Guy excused himself. “I’m afraid I can’t stay. Tomorrow is the feast of St. Matthias the Apostle, so I must fast today.”

“What can we do for you then? Does the bishop need more wine?” Salomon asked. “Or do you bring some news?”

“I do have some news, but I was looking for your daughter Rachel.” Guy gazed around the room, clearly disappointed at her absence. “The last of the pilgrims are leaving for Compostela, and usually she sends a letter with them for her husband.”

“I’ll give her your message.” Salomon tried to hide his surprise. Surely Rachel hadn’t forgotten to write to Eliezer.

“Perhaps she sent word with an earlier group.” Guy turned to leave.

“You said you have news,” Salomon reminded him.

“Of course.” Guy took a seat. “Now that most knights have returned from Jerusalem, reinforcements are urgently needed. Pope Paschal has called for a new pilgrimage, particularly exhorting those who previously took the pilgrim’s vow but never fulfilled it.”

“That applies to Count Étienne of Blois,” Salomon said. “Or has our Count Hugues decided to go?”

Guy leaned closer to his audience. “If it were up to their wives, both noble brothers would be gone already. However, it seems that only the elder is undertaking the journey. I’ve heard that Countess Adèle is so ashamed that she will not permit Étienne to remain at home. He left for the Holy Land with Hugh de Vermandois, Duke Odo of Burgundy, and others who returned early.”

“So despite the French princess’s urging, Count Hugues remains at home?” Salomon asked.

“For the time being,” Guy replied, reaching for his ermine-lined cloak.

“Just a moment, Guy,” Shmuel called out, halting the cleric at the door. “Do you have any news for me?”

“I’m afraid I do. While I agree that the Vulgate translation is imprecise compared to
Hebraica veritas
, there’s nothing I can do to change it.”

“At least you tried,” Shmuel said as they walked to the gate.

Salomon, concerned about Rachel’s behavior, said little during
disner
, leaving Shmuel to deal with the yeshiva students’ questions. When she arrived home, he immediately gave her Guy’s message and waited for her response.

“There’s no need to waste precious parchment on a letter to Eliezer,” she replied. “You and the children are well, may the Holy One protect them, and the fulling mill is working. He knows I only write if something’s wrong.”

Salomon raised his eyebrow skeptically. If Rachel were deliberately leaving Eliezer uniformed, then she must want him to worry. “You might make him more anxious if you wrote a letter full of praise for your new fuller,” he said.

To her father’s disappointment, Rachel blushed. “This way Eliezer will agonize over all the possible reasons I haven’t written.”
As well as why I haven’t come to Toledo.

Shmuel interrupted their tête-à-tête. “Grandpapa bet that Guy couldn’t get the
minim
’s translation of the sixth commandment changed, and he was right.”

“What are you talking about?” Rachel asked.

“They translate ‘You shall not murder,’ as
Non occides
,” Shmuel replied. “I pointed out that Latin verb
occidere
refers to killing in general, while the Hebrew
tirtza
always means ‘murder,’ an unjustified killing. For if the Holy One had merely wanted to say ‘kill,’ He would have used the Hebrew
hereg
, or if He meant ‘put to death,’ He’d have said
mot yumat
.

“Guy admits the translation is careless?” Rachel’s eyebrows arched in surprise. Maybe she should have asked him to teach her Latin too?

“As do many of the Notzrim scholars I studied with in Paris,” Shmuel replied. “But they say it doesn’t hurt for men to believe that killing each other is forbidden.”

“Not that it stops them from killing or murdering anyone,” Salomon added bitterly.

 

At the first sign of decent weather, Rachel hurried back to Ramerupt, where Dovid proudly presented her with rolls of finished cloth, ready to be dyed.

Abandoning her usual caution around strange men, Rachel was so happy that she danced a little jig. “This is wonderful. I can’t wait to hear how much they’re worth.”

“It will be a goodly amount, I’m sure.” He rubbed his hands gleefully. “I can’t wait for Othon to see me now, a successful clothier.”

She smiled back. “I can’t wait to see his face when he realizes what a tremendous mistake he made.”

Dovid’s expression hardened. “And to see his daughter’s face when she realizes what she lost.”

“Unless she’s an idiot, she realizes it already. After all, where is she going to find another man as handsome, intelligent, and industrious as you?” Rachel declared vehemently.

Dovid fell silent and Rachel suddenly wondered if she’d said too much. “Did you love her?” she asked softly.

“Love her? Don’t be absurd.” He scowled. “She was attractive enough to wed, but it was her father’s shop I loved.”

“I don’t understand. You’re such a skilled fuller, one of the best in Troyes. Why wouldn’t Othon want you as a son-in-law?”

“Don’t you know my impediment?” he stared at her intently. “You of all people should know, since it’s marked in my flesh.”

Her mirth dissipated. “Because you were born a Jew.”

“I don’t know who I curse more—the parents who saddled me with this defect or the men who murdered them.”

Horrified, Rachel raised her voice. “Being Jewish is not a defect. We are the Holy One’s Chosen People.” She strode to his side. “Look at me. Am I defective? Is my family defective? Compared to the
minim
we are better off in every way.”

He was looking at her face, but his eyes didn’t see her. “
Minim
—I remember that word. It means ‘heretic.’ ”

“Of course they’re heretics. They took our Torah, given to us at Mount Sinai, and misinterpreted it to support their lies that the Holy One is not One but three; that He has abandoned us and chosen them in our place; and that the Hanged One, whom they worship as the Messiah, is the son of God, born of a human woman, and, even more absurd, that she was a virgin.”

She stamped her foot so hard that snow fell from the mill’s eaves. “Then if we don’t accept these lies, they murder us and steal our children.”

Dovid stared wide-eyed as Rachel continued to vent her spleen. She finally slowed and fell silent. “I apologize,” he said gently. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I owe you an apology,” she replied, appalled at having revealed her true opinion of the Notzrim to one of them, especially to an apostate. Her stomach knotted in fear.
What if he no longer wants to work for me?
“Please forgive me.”

Each one was waiting for the other to speak when Joheved peeked in the door. A relieved expression appeared on her face when she saw her sister. “There you are, Rachel.”

As Joheved closed the distance between them, Dovid walked to the fulling tubs, leaving the sisters to speak privately.

“I am so glad you got our estate involved in the fulling business,” Joheved said, not that Rachel thought she looked particularly happy. “All this foul weather has ruined the winter wheat, and if it continues, the spring sowing will either rot or not geminate at all.”

Observing Rachel’s dismayed expression, she continued, “Don’t worry. We’ll have sufficient grain to eat; Milo saved some from last year. But we won’t have much, except lambs, to sell this summer.”

Rachel nodded. “Then it’s a good thing you’ll have both raw wool and woolens instead.”

“Plus fulling keeps my villeins occupied and out of trouble when they can’t work the land.”

“When I saw Simon in Troyes, he suggested that you grow woad or madder,” Rachel said. “Then we can dye the raw wool.”

Joheved paused to think. “We could grow woad on a fallow field. It doesn’t need a fixative and it matures in one season.”

“What about madder? It would make a good base for scarlet.”

“Marona told me that they used to grow madder, but it takes years before the roots are big enough to harvest their dye.” Joheved chuckled. “She thought the sheep might eat the leaves and have pink wool, but they ended up giving pink milk instead.”

“I guess we should just plant woad then.”

Joheved hesitated and glanced toward the fulling tubs. “I was thinking about asking Dovid to celebrate Passover with us.”

Rachel almost choked. “Here? With our family?”

“Why not?” Joheved replied. “He’s living in Ramerupt now.”

“Because he’s not Jewish, that’s why not.” As soon as Rachel spoke, she knew it wasn’t true. Papa always said that although a Jew might sin, he remained a Jew.

“But you told me he was—”

“All right, he is a Jew,” Rachel conceded. “But he’s an apostate now.”

“How better to bring him back to the Law of Moses?” Joheved asked. “If Dovid has any happy childhood memories of his parents, they would likely include Passover.”

“But our seder is on their Good Friday. He’d have to choose one or the other.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Joheved paused, her hand on her chin. “I have an idea: why don’t you drop some hints and see how he responds? Then if he seems interested, you can invite him.”

“I’ll try to do that,” Rachel replied, knowing she wouldn’t try very hard. Dovid was provoking too many strong feelings in her, feelings she hadn’t sorted out yet, and she wasn’t going to take any chance of displaying them in front of her family.

 

Eliezer stared in awe at all the well-dressed folks who’d come to his wedding. Before he could ask what they were all doing there, the music started and he was pulled into the dance. Two small rings of people moved to the left in front of his circle, and three larger rings behind him, with Gazelle seated in the center. Watching all these dancers spinning around him, each at their own speed, made him dizzy, but he couldn’t stop.

The musicians increased the pace, and suddenly Abraham bar Hiyya grabbed him by the arm, forcing the two of them to twirl around each other even as their circle, and the others, kept going. Eliezer felt like he was falling, but Abraham held him upright. His vertigo increased as the dancers spun even faster, until Eliezer realized that he could no longer identify individuals. Everything was a blur of swirling color.

Finally the music slowed, but when his vision cleared, the people dancing had disappeared. Each circle now contained only a shining sphere. Even Abraham and Gazelle had been thus transformed. The scene looked familiar somehow; yet Eliezer couldn’t recall where or when he’d seen it before. But he knew it was something important.

“Eliezer.” Abraham was calling him.

Eliezer shook his head and looked up at his friend, who was yawning and rubbing his eyes. “It’s nearly dawn. You can sleep here if you want, but I’m going home to my bed. If Mercury and Venus do orbit the sun, they will continue to do so after I wake.”

Suddenly wide-awake and furiously trying to interpret his dream’s significance, Eliezer bid Abraham good night. “I’ll stay a little longer.” What if he’d been the earth, Abraham the moon, and Gazelle the sun? Then the five spheres circling her would be the planets.
All of them orbiting the sun. Including Earth! Was that possible?

“Are you sure? You were snoring hard just a moment ago.”

“I just thought of a different algorithm I want to try, and if I stop now I’ll lose track of what I’m doing.” He reached for a fresh piece of parchment.

“I’ll see you later then.” Abraham started for the door and then halted. “By the way, I assume you’d like to spend Passover week with me in Barcelona again.”

“Passover already?”
How has the time passed so quickly?
“My wife said she’d be here for Passover.”

“Have you heard from her?”

“No. But she would have written if she weren’t coming.” Eliezer tried to suppress his budding anxiety.

“They say winter was very hard in Ashkenaz. Perhaps bad weather prevented her from traveling and delayed her message.”

Eliezer sighed. A bad winter would mean another year of poor harvests. He’d better procure some grain to bring back, even if the prices he’d charge to make a profit would have even more Edomites hating him.

“I doubt very much that your wife is coming,” Abraham continued. “But you can tell your partner that you’ve gone to Barcelona and if she does arrive, she can join us there.”

Abraham closed the door behind him, and Eliezer returned to his work. But it was no use. Between speculating over what could have happened to Rachel and how another famine might inflame anti-Jewish feelings in Ashkenaz, it was impossible to focus on astronomy. The calculations would have to wait, he thought, as he locked the manuscripts away and headed home.

The nearly full moon was a visible reminder that Passover was indeed approaching. If Rachel weren’t here, he might as well celebrate Passover with Abraham. But if she weren’t coming, and his gut told him this was the case, why hadn’t she written to him? Could she have left Troyes and been forced back by bad weather? Had Salomon taken ill again? Or had one of their children? Perhaps she’d written and her letter had gone astray. Eliezer could think of numerous reasons why she hadn’t arrived, both terrible and benign.