Rashi’s Daughters Book I: Joheved

by Maggie Anton

  Still feeling unnaturally calm, she tore off some of the bread and dipped it into the salt, then handed a piece to Meir and joined him in the blessing. They ate in silence, listening to the sounds of people celebrating outside. Mixed with the sweet scent of honeysuckle, Joheved could make out the fennel strewn among the fresh rushes and ferns. More protection from demons.

  A sudden thought filled her with panic. Was she expected to use the bed with Meir now? Nobody had told her and, though she’d been to weddings before, it hadn’t occurred to her to ask. One thing was certain; somebody had left food for them, and she was hungry. Still, it was all she could do to keep her hand from shaking as she dipped her bread in the preserves and took a bite.

  Joheved felt Meir watching her; she looked up and their eyes met.

  Those beautiful blue eyes, he thought, the same color as the silk they both were wearing. That was enough waiting for Meir. They were married now, and he should be kissing her, not sitting there staring at her. He pulled her down on the bed, fastened his lips on hers and reveled in her ardent response.

  She pressed her body against his, and her perfume, which had first enticed him when they stood together under her veil, smelled stronger now. His hands sought out her curves, but other than reaching directly under her chemise from below, which seemed too brazen, there was no way to caress her bare skin. They were both sewn into their clothes.

  Meir broke their embrace. They eyed each other hungrily, and Joheved reached for him again. “We can’t,” he told her between kisses. “We have to wait until we can get out of these clothes.” He sat up and attempted to replace the flowers his fingers had dislodged.

  “We’d better eat our food then,” she said, offering him one of the eggs. Relief coursed through her. Meir hadn’t tried to force her, and his kisses were just as sweet as she remembered.

  They finished the small meal and did their best to smooth their rumpled clothes. Joheved wanted to enjoy their privacy a while longer, but Meir pulled her towards the door.

  “Come, my bride, the sooner we get down there, the sooner we can leave.”

  Rachel, who had stationed herself at the bottom of the stairs for this purpose, ran outside to announce the honored couple’s imminent appearance. Rivka had made Joheved’s bliaut so frugally that there was enough fabric left over to make one for Rachel as well, and the girl was beside herself with joy. The blue silk set off the contrast between her dark curls and fair skin, and now she was the one to wear red ribbons.

  The musicians burst into a fanfare as the newlyweds entered the courtyard, and dancers ran to grab their hands and pull them into the quickly forming circles. Before she knew it, Joheved was going one way and Meir was moving in the opposite direction. She danced with Mama, with Miriam and finally with her new female in-laws before the musicians struck up the tune for a mixed-couple dance and she could be back in Meir’s arms.

  When the dance ended, the musicians signaled for everyone to sit while they serenaded the bride and groom. Secular songs, particularly love songs, were officially discouraged in Jewish households, yet everyone knew them. The jongleur began with one that was often sung as a lullaby, and was rewarded with wet cheeks on many of the older women. Meir’s mother was seated next to him, and he could hear her sniffling as she reminded Samuel that she used to sing that very song to their son when he was small.

  Rejoice, O Bridegroom, in the wife of your youth

  Let your heart be merry now and when you shall grow old

  Sons to your sons shall you see, your old age’s crown

  Your days spent in good, your years in pleasantness.

  Joheved and Meir remained seated at the head table under the apple tree while relatives and guests chatted with them. The only taint on the happy occasion came when a guest began arguing with Benjamin and Asher. In a voice so loud that the musicians’ efforts to drown him out were unsuccessful, he accused the two students of stealing his chickens. A hen and rooster were missing from his coop, and he demanded their immediate return. Of course this was impossible; the wedding party had eaten them.

  Salomon rolled his eyes and stood up, intending to get some coins to pay for the purloined poultry. He knew of the responsa that stated “Young men with the bridegroom should not steal from anyone, neither chickens nor anything else,” and he was fairly certain that his pupils were not ignorant of this rule either. Still it was rude for the aggrieved man to interrupt the wedding banquet. If he had complained in private, Salomon would have promptly reimbursed him.

  Then Meshullam stepped in and insisted on dealing with the indignant guest himself. Having made off with his share of birds at other weddings, he knew that the students would be terribly shamed if their maître ended up paying for their prank.

  The afternoon wore on, with more singing, dancing, and of course, more eating and drinking. It was almost like Purim, except that Meir and Joheved would be the first, rather than the last, to leave. Meir began to wonder how soon they could make their exit, how he would know when the time was right.

  Samuel must have noticed his son’s increasing impatience, because, just before sunset, he stood up and motioned the musicians for quiet. He raised his cup and toasted the newlyweds, “For a happy life!”

  The guests understood the signal and began to yell out their good wishes as well. Meir and Joheved rose to thank everyone, and wheat was soon flying at them from all directions. There seemed no escape but to run for the house, with the chants of “Be fruitful and multiply” in their ears. Hannah and Aunt Sarah, having been delegated the task of helping the couple out of their finery, followed discreetly.

  In his new bedroom, Hannah carefully undid the stitches on her brother’s chemise. She suspected that he had already received advice from the male members of their family, and she wanted to give him the female point of view.

  “I don’t want to worry you, Meir, but please remember that what feels good for you might be painful for your new bride, especially the first time.”

  She finished one sleeve and moved to the other side. “There’s no way of knowing in advance,” she said. “I’m just telling you not to be shocked or feel like you’ve done something wrong if Joheved bleeds a lot or cries.”

  Meir knew his sister was trying to be helpful, but right now, he didn’t want to think about how much this might hurt Joheved. “I promise I’ll be as gentle and considerate as possible,” he said, and when Hannah removed the last thread, he directed her out the door. Moving quickly to the chest that held his belongings, he pulled out Tractate Kallah.

  In Joheved’s room, Sarah was telling her niece exactly what she could expect to happen between her and her new husband, but her explanation was far more clinical than Rav Hisda’s words to his daughters. “You should encourage Meir in what gives you pleasure, Joheved,” she told her, “because it is through your mutual satisfaction that you will merit worthy children.”

  “But, Aunt Sarah, how do I give my husband pleasure?” Joheved asked. It seemed selfish to ignore his needs.

  Sarah smiled and said, “Don’t worry about his pleasure. Young men like Meir have strong yetzers, and it will be a challenge for him to control his desire while stimulating yours. You mustn’t be disappointed if he can’t do it at first.”

  Joheved had more questions, but that was all Aunt Sarah would say. They removed her new outfit, and soon Joheved stood dressed only in an old chemise. Aunt Sarah anointed her with more perfume and walked with her into the hall. Joheved took a deep breath, then opened the bedroom door and stepped inside.

  Meir was standing by the window, trying to read in the fading light, when he heard the door open. He too was wearing just a chemise, and Joheved felt a surprising sense of relief that he hadn’t undressed and gotten into bed already. He immediately closed the shutters, but she could still see quite well. That there was some light remaining in the room disconcerted her; she had expected that it would be dark when they first cohabited.

  Joheved hung her new clothes on the
pegs next to his. She hadn’t had time to turn around when she felt Meir’s arms encircle her waist and his lips kissing her neck. Chills went down her back and she shivered. It was a pleasant sensation, but she wanted her lips and arms in a position to reach him. She squirmed around to face him, and was suddenly aware that only two very thin pieces of cloth separated their otherwise naked bodies. It was both exciting and scary.

  Meir looked down at Joheved and tried to read her expression. He wanted to ask her what her aunt, the midwife, had told her, but he was afraid that she would want to know what his sister had said in return. He gently ran his fingers through her hair and tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t make him sound foolish.

  She startled him by speaking first. “What are you thinking?”

  “I can’t believe how lovely you look; your hair is so beautiful.” Meir somehow made an inspired reply, and asked in return, “What are you thinking?”

  Her face colored with that question and she averted her gaze. Before she was forced to give a response that would only embarrass her further, he said quickly, “I also think that we have better uses for our mouths than asking questions.”

  His hands were still in her hair, so he tilted her face up and bent over to kiss her. Her perfume was intoxicating, and he reveled in the feeling of her lips on his. His right hand, which had been moving over the linen that covered her back and shoulders, slowly made its way to her breast. He marveled at its soft fullness, and gently rubbed his thumb across the nipple, which hardened under his touch. He heard Joheved’s quick intake of breath, but she didn’t flinch.

  Joheved’s anxiety over the lack of darkness was forgotten in the agreeable sensation Meir’s lips were giving her. His caresses were so sensuous that she understood why the cats purred with pleasure when she petted them. When he began fondling her breast, she remembered Rav Hisda’s advice and was reassured that things were as they should be.

  But as soon as he touched her nipple, the reaction this caused was extraordinary. It was as if she had been burned, but with pleasure rather than pain, and it radiated out from her breast, down her belly to that place between her legs. She felt an intense yearning unlike anything she had ever known, something like an itch that cried out to be scratched and a need to use the privy.

  When Meir brought his left hand around to cup her other breast and tease that nipple as well, she thought she would swoon with the intensity of her desire. Her arm went up behind his neck to grasp his shoulder, and she kissed him harder, as if this would somehow keep her on her feet. Her weakness only increased with his tender ministrations, finally forcing her to slip out of his embrace and sit on the bed.

  Meir, sensing that the opportunity was ripe, lay down next to her, pulled the covers over his body and eagerly removed his chemise. As it fluttered to the floor, he beckoned Joheved to join him, hoping that he looked more encouraging than lustful.

  Fear and desire warred within her. The sun had set, but dusk still lit the room. Colors had faded into grays, but she could easily make out details. Joheved took a deep breath and gathered her courage. She mustn’t keep her husband waiting, but she couldn’t bring herself to undress in front of him.

  “Close your eyes,” she instructed him, and Meir obligingly flipped over to face the opposite direction. She pulled her chemise over her head and hurriedly got into bed, drawing the linens all the way up to her neck.

  He turned towards her and searched her face for an indication on how to proceed. She looked worried, but hopeful. He took her in his arms, intending to hold her until they got used to the feeling of their bare flesh pressing against each other. But the softness of her skin, her breasts pushing against his chest, and the warmth of her belly and thighs so close to his loins were almost more than he could bear. He fought to control his yetzer hara, which was urging him to take her right then and there.

  Joheved was enthralled with the sensation of his naked body pressed so tightly to hers. She had tensed when she first felt his unclothed skin, but when he made no attempt to do more than hold her, she allowed herself to relax. He must have noticed her stiffness easing, because he started kissing her again. When he bent down to kiss the hollow of her throat, the combination of his lips and beard on her exposed skin was so exquisite she thought she wouldn’t be able to bear it if he stopped.

  His lips on her neck felt her heartbeat quicken, and her breath was coming faster as well. The perfume she wore combined with her own sweet fragrance to permeate his senses. He reached for her breasts and was rewarded with a soft moan as his fingers made small circles around her nipples.

  Joheved couldn’t believe the passion coursing through her. The aching between her legs returned with more intensity than before, and, without the slightest volition on her part, her hips began to rotate and push against his. His answering heat and hardness caused her great consternation, yet she could not hold herself still.

  But further delights were in store. When Meir lowered his lips from her neck to her breasts and shifted his caresses to her lower body, she squirmed sensuously in response. She didn’t understand how his fingers and lips could have such delicious effects on her, only that she yearned for more. He took one of her nipples in his mouth and, almost simultaneously, began to stroke the skin of her inner thighs. She gasped and tensed a moment, and then separated her legs, desperate for him to do something to quench the fire that was now burning between them.

  His hand sought that aching place, and his fingers gently explored every fold and crevice. Joheved whimpered with pleasure. She had never imagined that such delights existed. Every time he tongued her nipple, a jolt of heat seemed to shoot directly down to where his hand was creating an inferno in her womb.

  Meir didn’t know how much longer he could curb his lust; his bride was writhing under his stimulation, but he wasn’t sure how he’d know when she was truly ready. Her warm dampness was on his fingers, and he could feel a fresh surge of wetness whenever he sucked on her nipple, but he restrained himself.

  By this time Joheved was beside herself with passion, with a suffering that she somehow knew only her husband could cure. Each additional caress caused her ardor to flare, and she understood why Rav Hisda called that burning place a forge.

  And she realized that it was time to end the torment engulfing her by giving herself to her husband. “Please, Meir.” She pulled him closer. “I can’t endure any more.”

  He was throbbing with eagerness as he shifted his hips above hers and gently spread her open to receive him, but he forced himself to push carefully into her body that was moving so voluptuously beneath him. Again he controlled his yetzer, which was demanding that he draw back, thrust hard and bury himself in her. He slowed when he felt the impediment in front of him, but Joheved, impatient desire banishing any fear, wrapped her legs around him and insistently pulled him towards her, past the momentary blockage, until he had penetrated fully.

  The incredible pleasure of feeling her warm passage envelop him was nearly overwhelming. If he moved even slightly, it would be over, so he held himself still and thought about the Berchat Betulim. He dimly heard Joheved asking if he was all right, and himself answering that he was fine, was she all right? When she responded in the affirmative, he felt calm enough to begin moving again.

  He withdrew some and then reentered, each time with increasing strength. For Joheved, the torment she had felt before paled in comparison to what she was experiencing now. Each time he drew back, her legs urged him back in, and each time he reached her depths, she groaned blissfully. He knew he shouldn’t move so vigorously; he ought to slow down and make it last longer, but when he tried to rest, Joheved forced him back into motion.

  Was it an almond tree or a walnut in the Garden of Eden? Lilies or roses in the valley? Meir tried to concentrate on the Berchat Betulim.

  Joheved was panting now, and, curious what her passion looked like, he opened his eyes a sliver. The sight of her breasts below immediately reversed the effect of his calming ex
ercise, and he found himself thinking instead about how good it felt, wondering how soon they could do it a second time. Again, he approached the brink and compelled his passion to cool.

  Let no stranger control her sealed fountain. Let her keep her lover’s holy seed pure and not break the law. No wait, that wasn’t how the blessing went.

  Suddenly the intensity of her cries increased, and Meir felt her passage contract and throb around him, caressing his entire length. It was the most marvelous thing he had ever felt. He tried desperately to compose his thoughts again, but a burning ecstasy surged from deep within him. He plunged in to the hilt, and drove into her again, and again, with a frenzy he didn’t know he was capable of.

  Joheved was sure she was going to die of rapture. Her body was seized with paroxysms of the most incredible pleasure, and, at the same time, Meir felt a searing fire coursing in his loins. His deeper cries mingled with hers as he spilled his seed into her womb and then collapsed on top of her.

  For a time they remained joined, too exhausted to move, until Meir, concerned about crushing her, slowly disengaged himself.

  Joheved wanted to tell Meir how wonderful she felt, how happy he had made her, but she had no energy to speak. She lay beside him in blissful satisfaction, silently thanking the Creator for giving them the mitzvah to be fruitful and multiply.

  Meir was drowsy himself, and, having decided that he would wait until morning to say the Berchat Betulim, had almost dozed off when he remembered that Tractate Kallah had cautioned the new husband to speak sweetly to his bride afterwards, so that she would know he cared for her and not just for the act.

  “Cherie,” he whispered, but her only reply was a soft snore. Joheved was fast asleep.

  “Bonne nuit, Cherie.” He snuggled up next to her spoon-fashion, and, savoring the feel of her naked backside against his chest and thighs, he slept as well.