Rashi's Daughters, Book III: Rachel (7 page)

Rachel pulled her attention back to her tablemates when she heard herself being addressed by Ursula. “Belle Assez, you warned us about many possible dangers. Are there any agreeable events we can look forward to?”

Rachel answered in an instant: “On a cloudless night at sea, with a myriad of stars in every direction, it is impossible not to stand in awe of creation.” She sighed at how overwhelmed she’d felt on her first sea journey. “But then you’ve seen these things; you came from Angleterre.”

“During our brief trip across the channel, it was so cloudy that we rarely saw the sun or the moon.” Lady Margaret stood up and shook the crumbs from her clothes, staring sternly at the other pilgrims. “We are going to the Holy Land to receive indulgence for our sins, not to enjoy the sights.”

The rest of her party rose with her, and soon the only guests left at the inn were Rachel, baby Rivka, and their guards. A horse whinnied outside, and Rachel rushed toward the door.
Eliezer is here—mon Dieu, let this be him.

* * *

But the front door opened to admit Miriam.

“I was checking on a baby nearby that Avram circumcised a few days ago, and I though I’d see if you were still here.” Miriam gave her sister a reassuring hug. “When I saw your horse, I thought you might appreciate some company.”

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you.” Rachel signaled to the serving girl for more food.

“That’s not necessary. I’ve already eaten.”

“Then come upstairs with me while the baby naps.”

They settled themselves on the bed, little Rivka between them. Miriam searched her mind for a topic that would distract her sister from Eliezer’s activities in the forest.

“You’ve traveled so far, Rachel. But this inn is the farthest I’ve ever been from Troyes,” Miriam said. “I admire you, taking Shemiah with you when he was just a baby.”

“A babe in arm travels easily, and I never considered leaving him with a wet nurse. To tell the truth, there were times when I would have gone crazy from boredom in Tunis if not for his company.”

“But surely living in such a strange country was exciting,” Miriam said in surprise.

Rachel shook her head at the memory. It was true she was thrilled when they arrived at the mysterious foreign city, never suspecting that her excitement would fade into tedium and finally evaporate as she felt increasingly trapped. “Arriving in port was fascinating, with all the different boats loading and unloading, but I was worried about how we’d get in touch with the men who worked with Eliezer’s father.”

“What did you do?”

“We were blessed in that Safik, his most trusted business associate, met us and escorted us to the apartment where Eliezer’s father had lived. You can imagine my surprise when I learned that both he and the Nubian housekeeper, Dhabi, were slaves who now belonged to Eliezer. And then I realized that Dhabi was actually my father-in-law’s concubine.”

“Eliezer’s father had a second wife in Tunis?” Miriam’s voice rose in dismay.

Little Rivka whimpered at the noise, and Rachel patted her gently. Then she whispered to Miriam, “It still infuriates me to think of the argument Eliezer and I had over how Flamenca could bear her husband taking a concubine and whether she even knew that he’d betrayed her.”

“What did Eliezer say?”

“He told me his father’s slaves weren’t my concern, and what his mother didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.”

The last thing Miriam wanted was Rachel thinking about Eliezer. “So besides owning slaves, what else was different between Tunis and Troyes? How did you spend your days?”

“Visiting other women.” Rachel sighed. A major disparity, one that irritated her more the longer they stayed, was that Tunisian women seldom left their homes except to visit other women. They rarely saw men outside their families.

“Did you meet any learned women?”

“None,” Rachel replied with disgust. “Even worse, women there only attend synagogue on Shabbat. If it weren’t for Eliezer’s need to ingratiate himself with those people, I would have gone on weekdays and ignored the consequences.” Instead she’d seethed in frustration inside the beautiful prisons the Tunisian Jews made for their wives and daughters.

Miriam tried again to find a subject that wouldn’t irritate her sister. “So you visited lots of women. What were their homes like? How did they live?”

“It’s funny, but at first I thought that the Jews possessed great wealth,” Rachel said. “Their houses were many-storied buildings of brick and clay, decorated with the most luxurious silk curtains and cushions. They had copper and brass dishes, and their floors were covered with elaborately woven mats.”

She turned on her side and whispered, “Despite all my experience in the jewelry business, I was amazed at the amount of gold and number of gemstones and pearls those women possessed. And nobody in Troyes, not even the count and countess, owns such magnificent clothes.”

Miriam exhaled in awe. “And I thought Jews in Troyes were prosperous.”

“We are. Eventually I discovered that silk and gemstones are far more common there than in France and thus less precious than I thought,” Rachel said. “Would you believe that wood is a great luxury there? That a simple birch bowl is more valuable than one made of silver?”

“Really?”

“There aren’t any forests in Maghreb: lumber has to be imported from great distances.”

Miriam nodded. “No wonder people there sit on silk cushions. Wooden benches and tables would cost a fortune.”

“Here’s another strange thing about having so little wood,” Rachel said. “Women do almost no cooking for their families. Men shop for food, bringing home hot dishes from vendors selling prepared items in the marketplace. The master of the house carries several empty pots, arranged in layers, which he fills with whatever he wants for that day’s meal.”

“I bet women serve the food and clean up afterward,” Miriam said.

“True. And when I explained how women do the shopping in Troyes, my hostesses were appalled that proper women wandered about freely in the marketplace. In Tunis only slaves and harlots behave so brazenly.”

Miriam stared in astonishment as Rachel continued, “Only poor women work for a living there, at occupations they can do from their homes, like dyeing and weaving, or for other women in
their
homes, making dresses or helping to prepare a bride for her wedding. I couldn’t believe how many women support their families that way, spending hours applying a bride’s makeup and dressing her hair.” Rachel gazed over at her sister, so thankful that Miriam had come to wait with her, for their mundane conversation that was helping the time to pass.

“What was the strangest thing you saw there?”

“Hmm . . . Actually, one custom shocked me so much I never would have believed it if I hadn’t witnessed it myself.”

“What was it?” Miriam asked eagerly.

“Jewish women there, and apparently in Cairo as well, don’t visit the
mikvah
.”

“Impossible. You must be mistaken.”

“Here’s what they do instead.” Rachel’s voice carried her disapproval. “Seven days after a woman starts her flowers, not seven days after she’s finished them, she goes to the bathhouse at sunset with another woman, one who’s not
niddah
. She bathes and has the clean one sprinkle her with warm water. Then she goes home to her husband.”

“Women sprinkle themselves with water? After only seven days?” Miriam sputtered.

“I was still nursing Shemiah, so I was never
niddah
while I was in Tunis. And several women asked me to sprinkle them.”

“Maybe the others immerse in the river or the sea if they don’t use the
mikvah
?”

“
Non
, they don’t immerse at all.” Rachel doubted that any of these women knew how to swim. “None of their synagogues have a
mikvah
.”

Miriam’s jaw dropped. “And the men permit this?”

“Clearly they do; otherwise they wouldn’t build a synagogue without a
mikvah
,” Rachel said with contempt. She and Miriam both knew that some women in Troyes didn’t use the
mikvah
either, especially in winter. When they finished bleeding, they considered it sufficient to bathe at the stewes. But their husbands probably didn’t know about it.

The sisters’ loud voices were disturbing the baby again. Rachel, who’d gotten little sleep the night before, yawned widely, causing Miriam to suggest that she would wait for Eliezer downstairs while her sister and niece napped together.

Rachel cuddled her daughter and closed her eyes. After that winter in Tunisia, she couldn’t stand it anymore. One night in bed with Eliezer, the only time they got to spend together, she’d told him, “I don’t want to come back here next year. Do we have to?”

“Maybe not.” He’d stroked her hair. “I’ve been impressed with Safik’s performance. Do you think he is competent to manage our affairs here by himself?”

“Safik’s more competent than we are,” she replied. “I hear it’s common for slaves to be freed at their master’s death. Perhaps you should make him your partner.”

“My clever wife! I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

She chuckled. “Lucky for you that most men’s wives don’t study Talmud.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it. I deliberately sought the most intelligent woman I could find.” When Rachel looked at him skeptically he added, “And the most beautiful.”

“We can sweeten the deal for him,” she said, blushing at Eliezer’s compliments. “Free Dhabi as well and give her to Safik for his wife.”

That solved two problems. The Nubian girl was greatly anxious about her future since Eliezer wouldn’t need a concubine if he traveled with his wife. Not that Rachel had any intention of letting such an attractive young woman remain in Eliezer’s possession—not the way he kept eyeing her when he thought Rachel wasn’t looking.

In Ashkenaz, a man could only have one wife at a time; Rav Gershom had made that decree years ago. But in Maghreb, men had both wives and concubines. Just the thought of Eliezer taking a concubine in some faraway place made Rachel’s stomach churn, and she was glad she’d gotten Dhabi settled safely out of his reach. She would never share her husband with another woman, never.

These unpleasant thoughts were cut short by the door slowly creaking open. Heart pounding, she sat up and reached for the knife at her belt. Who dared enter her room at the inn without knocking?

“Who is it?” she called out, her body tensing as she tightened her grip on the blade.

four

Eliezer stopped short when he saw the knife in his wife’s hand. “Rachel,
mon amour
. It’s me. I’m so sorry I startled you. Miriam told me you two were sleeping.”

Overjoyed, Rachel sprang from bed into his arms. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t asleep.”

They clung to each other, savoring their familiar scents as the forest nightmare slowly drained away. She sighed into the cloth of his chemise. “Your trip was successful?”

“Completely.” He stroked her disheveled curls. “Geoffrey is eager to begin collecting tolls and was impressed at how cheaply Duke Odo could be bought off.”

“That’s a relief.” She hugged him again. “I was afraid something terrible had happened to you.”

“I would have been here sooner if Geoffrey hadn’t been out hunting. It took us hours to locate him.”

“What’s the matter?” she asked as his smile was replaced with a flicker of pain.

“I had two well-armed guards with me; yet those hours waiting in the forest today were almost as terrifying as the week I spent there before.” He shuddered. “Even after this road is safe, my memories will make it difficult to travel.”

Rachel caressed his shoulder. “So don’t go that way. We did very well last year when you went east to find furs to sell at the Cold Fair and then bought swords and armor to sell in Sepharad.” Her pulsed quickened. If only she could convince him to take a route that would allow him to spend more time at home.

“So we did. And Sepharad is still an excellent market.”

Sadly, continual warfare in Sepharad produced a continual demand for weapons. Ever since the Castilian king, Alfonso, took Toledo from the Moors seven years ago, neither side had been able to vanquish the other.

“You could send a message to Safik to meet you there with his dyestuffs.” Rachel thought she would overflow with happiness at the mere thought of it. Her husband was safe in her arms, and last year he’d finished his business in Sepharad so quickly that he was home for Passover.

“Good idea.” He patted her reassuringly. “He can come with one of the winter caravans.” Eliezer stood back to gaze at her. “It seems once again my wife has proven that she is as clever as she is beautiful.”

 

Eliezer was so eager to see Rachel again, and to keep her from worrying, that he completed his fur buying that fall in time to arrive home at the end of October, a full week before the Cold Fair opened. Rachel was elated to see him, but the rest of Salomon’s family was focused on two new yeshiva students.

Most new pupils elicited little excitement, but these two, Simcha de Vitry and his son Samuel, were not only father and son, but also Salomon’s close relations.

“What is their story, Rachel?” Eliezer was sure he’d never met these men before, although they were kin to his wife.

“It’s a sad one,” Rachel replied. “Simcha’s first wife, Hannah, was Meir’s sister, and she died when Samuel was born. I haven’t seen either of them since her funeral, and I was only seven then.”

Eliezer’s face clouded. “Poor Simcha.”

“Miriam must know more about it. She’s a midwife,” Rachel said. “I’ll ask her at breakfast.”

Judah was as ignorant of the men’s identities as Eliezer, so Miriam explained Simcha’s unhappy history over the meal. “Hannah was only a couple of years older than Meir, like the age difference between Joheved and me.”

“Then Meir must have felt close to her,” Judah said.