She kept her tone professional. “Would Your Grace like to sample the pressed wine? We have some from grapes of our own vineyard and some from the abbey at Montier-la-Celle.”
“The abbey’s produce does not interest me. I am only tempted by your own vineyard’s.” Eudes’ smirk made it clear he was not discussing wine.
“But our best produce is taken,” she replied in kind. “Surely anything less would not be appropriate for Your Grace’s refined palate.”
“I would like to taste whatever your vineyard has available. Tomorrow you will ride with me and bring a flask of your father’s wine.” Eudes was stating a fact, not offering an invitation.
Raoul’s gasp was audible, but Rachel remained silent, her mind working furiously. “I’m dreadfully sorry, Your Grace, but I cannot ride with you.” Before he could voice his displeasure, she smiled and said, “I am enceinte and have no horse gentle enough to ride in my condition.” Aunt Sarah’s fine mare had died years earlier, leaving Miriam to hire a series of less-than-satisfactory replacements.
“I will have my stable master find the gentlest palfrey in Troyes.” He nodded curtly and began climbing the stairs. “I will bring your mount when the bells chime Tierce, the day after tomorrow.”
Rachel walked the men through the courtyard. “Surely Your Grace will allow me to say my morning prayers first,” she said sweetly.
Eudes scowled. “How long will that take?”
She knew better than to lie—the count could easily find out when services ended. “Perhaps until an hour after Tierce.”
“Very well,” he said, slamming the gate behind him.
Her heart pounding, Rachel exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding and collapsed against the wall. Eudes intended to have his way with her, perhaps even in the field while they were riding. Yet what could she do to stop him?
Desperate for advice, that night Rachel turned to the one person she could always count on.
“Help me, Papa,” she pleaded after he’d blessed her children. “How can I keep from sinning with the count—other than by killing him or myself?”
“I’m not sure how you can escape our sovereign’s attention, but our Law says you need not kill anyone to avoid sinning.” Salomon drew on every measure of self-control to hide his deep dismay from his daughter. As abhorrent as he found the possibility of her lying with Eudes, dying to thwart him was infinitely worse. He was determined to be a pillar of strength for her, and that meant utilizing Torah, the ultimate source of strength.
“But a Baraita in the second chapter of Tractate Pesachim teaches exactly that,” she said.
“Just as a betrothed maiden must be saved from rape by taking her assailant’s life, so too should a murder victim be saved by killing the would-be murderer. And just as someone told to commit murder must die rather than sin, so too must a betrothed maiden die and not sin.”
Salomon patted her shoulder in reassurance. “That text has been emended. Just as a man told to kill another must die rather than comply, a man told to lie with a married woman must die rather than do so. However, she is not considered an active participant and is therefore not obligated to sacrifice her life.” Salomon sighed. “It’s a small comfort, but if Eudes forces you to submit, you’ve committed no sin.”
“If I don’t fight him, if I just submit and lie with him, I’ll become forbidden to my husband,” Rachel wailed. “Papa, you know as well as I that a woman who lies with another man during her husband’s lifetime is prohibited from resuming relations with him. No matter if she’s an adulteress or a divorcée, she may not return to him. There is only one exception, as it says in Mishnah Ketubot concerning a husband’s obligations to his wife:If you are taken captive I will ransom you and take you back again as my wife.
Though the wife is assumed to have been raped by her captors, she remains permitted to her husband, who must take her back.”
“I’m sure there’s something about this problem in the Gemara in the fourth chapter of Tractate Ketubot.” Salomon stroked his beard for a moment. “I don’t think you’ve studied it.
Rava said: If in the beginning she was coerced, but in the end she consented . . . she is permitted to her husband.
“But if I submit to Eudes, won’t I be consenting in the beginning?”
“Non, it’s different with bandits or a king. Here’s what our Gemara says later:Rav Yehuda said: Women captured by bandits are permitted to their husbands. The Rabbis objected: But they bring their captors bread and hand them arrows. Rav Yehuda answered that they serve out of fear. Only if the bandits free the women, yet they return to the bandits, are they forbidden to their husbands. So it is for captives of the king; they are permitted to their husbands.”
Salomon took his daughter’s hand and squeezed it gently. She must perceive only compassion from him, not the dread for her that gripped him. “A woman taken by a king to be his concubine is also assumed to serve him out of fear.” He added softly, “So if you submit, you’ll still be permitted to Eliezer when Eudes tires of you—which I pray will be very soon.”
“But the Notzrim follow the same Ten Commandments that we do. Eudes would be sinning gravely by committing adultery.” Rachel brightened a moment. Perhaps she could appeal to whatever piety the man possessed.
Salomon shook his head. “You must never mention adultery to the count. He might decide to save himself from sin by making you a widow.”
So far Rachel had managed to control her tears, but now she began to cry. “Then I have no choice. I’ll leave for Mayence tomorrow and wait for Eliezer there.”
For years Salomon had feared that his daughter’s beauty would put her in danger, but he never imagined that it could jeopardize them all. For whether she refused Eudes or merely angered him with delays, he could—Salomon shuddered, not daring to consider all the terrible punishments Champagne’s sovereign could inflict on his Jewish subjects.
“Ma fille,” he said softly. “You and your children would certainly have to quit Troyes forever, and our whole family might have to flee as well.”
“Leaving Joheved behind in Ramerupt to reap what I’d sown.” Rachel wiped away her tears. “At least I can try to thwart Eudes’ efforts as long as possible.”
“When you can no longer thwart him . . .” Salomon paused to control his emotions. “You should consult with Miriam so you won’t bear any of his bastards.”
Now Rachel squeezed her father’s hand. “That’s one worry we won’t have. Eliezer has already filled my womb.”
Rachel used her remaining day of freedom to visit Moses haCohen, court physician in both Troyes and Ramerupt, and his wife Francesca. Surely they would know all the gossip concerning Eudes and his reputation with women; perhaps they could advise her. And doctors could be relied upon to keep confidences.
“Eudes already has a mistress; her father is one of his vassals.” Moses poured Rachel a cup of wine. “However, the young lady is very pregnant at the moment, which explains Eudes’ sudden interest in other women.”
Rachel’s eyes opened wide. The mysterious Lady Marie was probably the count’s mistress. No wonder she had such opulent jewels.
“Bah.” Francesca flicked her hand as if shooing away a fly. “The count has never limited himself to one woman.”
“True.” Moses turned to Rachel and shook his head. “You cannot refuse him, but I have an idea of how to delay him.”
“Tell me.”
“At court the Countess Adelaide has some troubadours from Provence who are singing about something new in the affairs of men and women: ‘courtly love.’ ”
“Courtly love?” Rachel rolled her eyes. “I’ve never heard of it, and I’ve been to Provence.”
“I have no idea if courtly love is popular in Provence, or if it even exists there, but it’s the latest fashion in Troyes. The countess and her ladies insist that knights participate.”
“So how does the countess’s new diversion help Rachel?” Francesca’s tiny sco
wl brought her husband back to the point.
“Courtly love has many elaborate regulations, but the gist is that a knight devotes himself to a married noblewoman who feigns indifference to preserve her reputation,” Moses replied. “The code requires that, should the lady accept him as her lover, he must remain discreet and faithful despite all obstacles.”
“This is nothing more than a set of rules for committing adultery,” Francesca retorted.
“Eudes will have more difficulty remaining faithful than I will in feigning indifference,” Rachel said.
“Exactly.” The doctor took a leisurely drink of wine. “Once he realizes that you are familiar with courtly love and expect him to obey its rules, he will be honor bound to do so.”
“And if he fails, you will have an excuse to reject him.” Francesca held up her wine cup in triumph.
“But I’m not a noblewoman.” Rachel’s growing relief waned. “Eudes won’t be obligated to follow the codes of courtly love.”
“He is a nobleman; that’s what matters. And Frankish Jews have the status of knights.” Moses paused and added, “Besides, your sister is a noble lady and that puts you in her class.”
“I hope the rules aren’t too complicated to learn by tomorrow morning.”
“Believe me, it’s not as complicated as Talmud,” he said. “First comes the knight’s secret attraction to the lady, but his passionate declaration of devotion only provokes the lady’s virtuous rejection. Next comes renewed wooing with oaths of fidelity and complaints of lovesickness, until finally he performs a series of gallant deeds that win the lady’s heart. All this must be done with utmost discretion; no one but the lady must know of his love.”
“And then?” Although Rachel knew very well what the ultimate result was expected to be.
“Lastly, the couple consummates their secret passion, which is followed by endless subterfuges to avoid detection.”
“How does courtly love end?”
“The same as any infatuation.” Moses set down his empty cup. “A new love puts the old one to flight.”
Moses and Francesca spent an hour playacting various courtly love scenarios with Rachel, until a servant announced the doctor’s next patient.
“Merci for your wine and your advice,” Rachel said as she bid her hosts adieu. “Both were excellent.”
“I hope you can put my advice to good use.” Moses’s expression became somber. “Never forget that Count Eudes has ultimate power over our community. He can confiscate property, order vineyards burned, establish new taxes, take away our profitable fair positions, and even banish us if he wishes.”
Rachel needed to think, and preferably in a place where she wouldn’t be disturbed. Instead of returning home, she walked to the vineyard, where there were rows and rows of vine props to be pulled out and stacked as she considered various strategies and rehearsed those she thought Eudes would find most compelling.
She would lead him on a merry chase of courtly love, first rebuffing him with protests of virtue and then assigning him task after task, each more arduous than the last, until he was finally distracted by a new, more biddable love. With any luck, his old mistress would give him a son and he would joyfully return to her.
There was no sign of Eudes when Rachel returned from synagogue the next morning, and she was about to return the flask of wine when a stranger rode into the courtyard.
“Mistress Rachel?” he inquired.
When she answered, “Oui,” he dismounted and handed her the horse’s reins.
“His Grace hopes you find this mare sufficiently gentle. He awaits you at the St.-Jacques Gate.”
Rachel considered rejecting the animal out of hand, but then decided that it would be best to ride a short distance first. So she allowed the groom to help her into the saddle and rode around the courtyard a few times to test her seat. The palfrey seemed tractable enough, so she swallowed her trepidation and rode into the street. Thank Heaven Eudes was following the primary rule of courtly love—discretion.
He was waiting just outside the city walls, accompanied by several squires and servants. He gestured to the flask tied to her saddle. “I see you haven’t forgotten the wine.”
She waited while he took a long drink and burped with satisfaction. “This is indeed excellent wine,” he said. “I would never guess it came from the winepress.”
“Merci. My family works hard to make it so.”
Eudes kicked his horse’s side and the party set off toward the forest, his retainers following at a distance. “Perhaps you can explain to me why it is that wine is so expensive compared to ale. Are they not both fermented from fruits of the field?”
“I am no expert on making ale, but according to my sister Lady Joheved of Ramerupt the process is quite simple,” Rachel replied, glad of an excuse to remind him of her noble relatives. “The alewife merely adds barley grist to water, heats it briefly as the mixture mashes, and then allows the brew to ferment for a week or two. Almost any barley will produce a decent ale, but a wine’s quality depends on the excellence of its grapes, cultivated for that specific purpose.”
“So it is the grape grower who is responsible for a good wine, not the vintner?”
“Both of them are,” she said. “No vintner, no matter how skilled, can make good wine out of bad grapes, while a poor vintner can ruin the finest grapes.”
Rachel took a moment to glance back over her shoulder. To her dismay, the city walls were now far behind them. Only Eudes’ servants would hear if she screamed. Was the count truly interested in winemaking, or was he trying to lull her into conversation in hopes she would lower her guard? But as they rode farther into the forest, its foliage a riot of rich fall colors, Eudes continued to question her about viticulture. And he appeared to listen with interest as she described how they pruned the vines in the winter, trained the new shoots and trimmed the excess leaves that shaded them in the spring, attached the limbs to trellises in the summer, and harvested the grapes in the autumn.
She was about to explain how they trod the grapes in the vats, when Eudes pulled his horse to a stop. “Mistress Rachel, for many weeks I have looked forward to this day, determined to tell you how great are my continual thoughts of you.” He turned and looked at her directly. “Your love alone can crown me with the diadem of a king.”
Rachel had been hoping for such a fancy speech, but still it was a surprise to hear from the count’s lips. She drew herself up tall. “But what a strange falcon we would consider him, who ignores partridges and pheasants to seek his quarry among the sparrows,” she began.
Her heart was pounding; yet she kept her voice calm as she continued with more of the courtly love ritual’s strange formality. “I am honored that a count finds a humble woman such as myself worthy of his love, but I am afraid to accept a man of such a grand and lofty family.”
Eudes’ eyebrows rose in surprise, then his expression slowly changed to one of grudging respect. “Every man ought to ask for love where its persuasion impels him. Surely a falcon flies better when it takes a resourceful lark than when taking a fat quail that runs in a straight line.”
“But it is not natural for a man of such high rank to faithfully love a woman of a lower one, and if he does, he will soon come to loathe her.” She turned her palfrey around and began riding back to town.
Eudes quickly caught up with her. “Love that arises solely from delight in a woman’s beauty is excellent in any class and not sought from the privilege of rank alone.”
Was the count threatening her by mentioning the privileges of rank? Rachel fought her fear to answer him properly. “Your great haste seems to violate the custom of courtly love, for the wise lover, when conversing for the first time with a lady whom he has not previously known, should not ask specifically for gifts of love but should show himself pleasant and courteous.”
Eudes seemed taken aback by her words, and they rode in silence while he fashioned his response. “I now see that all I’ve heard about you is tr
ue, for it is clear from your answer that you are as wise as you are fine in character.”
“Yet I believe you have spoken thus because you think I will be only too willing to grant what you ask. Therefore there is good cause to be suspicious of your love.” Rachel smiled inwardly. Does he really think his kind words will win me so easily?
Eudes was not so quickly dismissed. “If my feelings are too strong to resist, I plead necessity as a defense against your charge of unworthiness. If I have any lack of judgment in love, I must seek the love of a woman with great wisdom and worth to remedy this.”
They were fast approaching the city walls, and Rachel had no intention of riding past them in the count’s company. He seemed willing, perhaps even amused, to participate in this courtly love pastime, so she dare not repudiate him outright.
“Though you might, by your arguments, compel me to love you,” she said. “There is another reason that keeps me from doing so. Suppose you did win my love? If it came to the ears of the people, they would ruin my good name. It is better, then, to refrain from entering into such an affair than to suffer so much that we must end it after it has begun.”
“I ask only for you to consider my suit and not reject the love of a count, for only a man of such high rank is worthy of a love such as yours.”
Rachel remembered how she’d planned to delay him. “A woman whose love is sought should either promise it to her suitor or deny it outright. But if she is in doubt as to the character of the man she may say to him: do good deeds before you seek the reward for good deeds.”
Church bells ringing at midday prevented Eudes from replying. Intending to walk the rest of the way home, Rachel started to dismount.
“Wait,” Eudes called out. “Keep the horse so we may ride and discuss this matter again tomorrow.”
Rashi's Daughters, Book III: Rachel Page 11