“Tomorrow is our Sabbath.” Now would come the first test. Would Eudes easily accept the limitations of her religion?
“Then we’ll ride again on Monday morning.” He paused, apparently realizing that he had been too forceful for a courtly lover. “If this palfrey pleases you, I ask you to keep her as a small token of my affection.” He smiled at her expression of astonishment. “I hope that by Monday I will have more good deeds to my credit.”
Rachel nodded and waved Eudes adieu. Lost in thought, she almost rode past her destination, the stables where Aunt Sarah’s horse used to board. She had been so worried about possible punishments for rejecting the count that she had not considered the rewards she might receive for accepting him. Look at those diamonds he’d given Marie.
Would it be so terrible to become the count’s mistress?
Papa himself had told her that it wouldn’t be a sin, and that Eliezer would have to take her back afterward. But what would happen when Eliezer returned at the end of the month? She shivered in disgust—how could she possibly shuttle back and forth between Eudes’ bed and her husband’s?
nine
For three weeks Count Eudes wooed Rachel with increasing fervor. He sent more gifts—perfume, silk hose, a pearl necklace and earrings. She rode with him several times a week, he making new protestations of love and she finding new ways to discourage him without entirely rejecting him. But with the Cold Fair only days away, Eudes growing impatient, and Eliezer due to arrive anytime, Rachel knew the moment had come to take the action she so dreaded.
When they arrived at the St.-Jacques Gate at the end of their afternoon ride, she gazed up at the count in what she hoped was an expression of adoration. “Your persistence and devotion have indeed moved my heart, Your Grace, and I am inclined to accept your proposal of love.”
“I have devoted myself to your service.” His eyes glinted with lust. “Nothing could give me greater happiness than knowing that my deeds may obtain from you the reward I desire.”
Rachel took a deep breath. “I ask of you merely one more deed, one that requires great nobility of spirit.”
Eudes looked at her with distrust, so she reached out and took his hand, something she had never done before. “My husband will return to Troyes any day. If you can restrain your passion until the Cold Fair ends, if you can hide your love so well that all believe it has died, then when the year begins and my husband is gone, I will be yours.”
“Today I am the most joyful of men.” He didn’t try to hide his triumph. “Rest assured that your love will be safe with me.” He bent over to kiss her hand, and it was clear that he intended to kiss her lips next.
Rachel pulled just far enough away. “I am pleased that my answer has given you happiness, but to keep anybody from having reason to suspect evil of us, it is proper that our discussion should end here.”
He took a swig from the wineskin hanging from his saddle, and then saluted her with it. “To the New Year, my beautiful Mistress Rachel. I eagerly await celebrating it with you.”
With a great sigh of relief, Rachel rode toward home. She would leave her mare at the stables, where everyone assumed the animal belonged to Miriam. At afternoon services, she thanked the Merciful One for sparing her so far, and she prayed fervently that Eudes should forget about her and that word of their liaison never come to Eliezer’s ears. When Eliezer arrived in Troyes that evening, she greeted him with greater enthusiasm than when he’d escaped from the bandits in Burgundy.
With her husband’s return, Rachel was even more determined to learn about becoming a cloth merchant. It wasn’t just that she missed Eliezer while he was gone: their children suffered from his absence as well. Little Rivka barely remembered who he was, while Shemiah should be learning Torah from his father. If Eliezer continued spending so much time away from home, their children would see Salomon and Judah as father figures. But what frightened her most was the fact that each journey Eliezer took entailed a risk that he might not return at all.
So Rachel suggested to Salomon that they visit the widow Alette and see her loom.
“If we earn enough in Sepharad, Eliezer can use our profit to buy kermes and indigo from Maghreb.” Rachel’s eyes shone with excitement. “Luxury woolens bring the most money, but they require the finest dyes.”
Despite his anxiety over her deception with Eudes, Salomon couldn’t help but smile. “If we get a good price for this year’s vintage, perhaps I can also invest in your venture.”
“Oh, Papa.” She threw her arms around him. “That would be wonderful. And if the vintage is very good, we might be able to buy some Tyrian purple.”
When they reached Alette’s home, they saw that her brother Albert did the weaving while she, her daughters, and her neighbors spun the wool.
“It takes eight of us to spin enough yarn for one loom,” Alette told Salomon.
Their workroom was located in the front room of the house, with the loom taking up most of the space. Unlike Sybille’s vertical loom, this one was set up like a long table. The many warp threads were pulled taut parallel to the length of it, toward the end where Albert sat. In the center, two square frames were suspended perpendicular to the threads. From these hung many small rings with one warp thread running through each. Albert held up a shuttle similar to the one Sybille used to weave linen.
“What are these frames for?” Rachel asked, and then added to Salomon, “The Talmud didn’t describe anything like this.”
“These are the heddles,” Alette said. “Their rings keep the warp threads in place so the weft can easily move between them.”
She gestured to her brother, who pressed a foot pedal underneath the loom. Abruptly a pulley hoisted one of the heddle frames, its rings lifting half the warp threads up with it. Albert sent the shuttle between the raised warp threads and the remaining half below. Then he worked another pedal, which caused the first heddle to lower and its mate to rise.
Immediately he sent the shuttle across to the other side, and pulled the weft tightly toward him. As with Sybille’s linen, they watched with appreciation as Alette’s wool turned into fabric. Eventually Albert paused and rolled the woven cloth onto the rod in front of him while Alette unrolled more warp threads from the rod at the far end of the loom.
Salomon smiled in approval. “I thought Sybille’s loom was efficient, but this is clearly an improvement.”
Albert nodded. “We can weave twice as fast as on my sister’s old hanging loom. But it needs a man to work it. First to pull the warp threads tight and tie them on the end rods—”
“Which means the warp threads must be both strong enough to support the weft and elastic enough to stretch onto the frame,” Alette interrupted. “That’s why we prefer to spin our own thread, so we can control the quality.”
“Attaching the warp threads must be what the Mishnah means by ‘stretching,’ ” Rachel whispered to Salomon.
“My brother is also useful to lift the heavy finished cloth off the loom at the end. But mostly we need his long arms so we can weave a wider cloth.” Albert held out his arms and indeed, he just touched both sides of the loom.
“May I try it?” Salomon asked.
Albert offered the older man his bench. Salomon tapped the foot pedals a few times, watching intently as one heddle rose and then the other, each taking half the warp threads with it. He lowered the appropriate frame, took up the shuttle and carefully pushed it halfway across the warp before reaching around with his other hand to pull it through the rest of the way.
Salomon nodded slowly. “Now I see what you mean.”
Albert resumed his position at the loom. Rachel felt hypnotized as she stared at his feet pumping the pedals, the heddles bobbing up and down, and the shuttle flying across the warp.
“How long is a finished bolt of broadcloth?” she asked.
“About forty to fifty cubits,” he replied, his pace not slowing in the slightest.
“And how long does it take to weave?”
&nb
sp; “About two weeks,” Alette said. “Our family can produce twenty such pieces a year; twenty-five if we’re lucky.”
“I have a proposal for you.” Rachel addressed both siblings. “Would you be willing to weave for me if I supplied the combed wool?”
Alette and Albert exchanged puzzled looks. “You’d buy all the fabric we weave?” he asked.
Rachel grinned. “And you’d have no expenses at all.”
“Where’s your profit?” Alette asked.
“We’ll pay everyone by the piece and take our profit on the finished dyed cloth.”
The proud look on Papa’s face as they walked home made it clear that he understood her idea. “Joheved’s manor can provide the wool, our family and Alette’s spin it, Albert weave it, and Eliezer can import the dyes. Then we’ll pay the dyer by the piece and sell the finished product at the Cloth Fair.”
Rachel took his arm and her voice rose with excitement. “Then we’ll hire more spinsters and more weavers and more dyers until we’re earning so much money that Eliezer never has to travel again.”
Eudes was true to his word and left Rachel alone for the month of November while Eliezer was home. She was grateful for being able to push her troubles with the count out of her mind, but it wasn’t long before she had other concerns to occupy her. Mama was ill with ague, leaving Rachel to host the many guests who dined with Salomon during the fair. She and Miriam also had to supervise the servants as they scrubbed clean the winepress, utensils, vats, and casks. Heaven forbid that off-odors should result from their negligence.
In addition every pruning knife had to be cleaned and sharpened, and all the straws prepared that they would need for tying up the vines in the spring. But these tasks required little intellectual skill, leaving Rachel vulnerable to increasing anxiety over Eudes’ future designs. In desperation she asked Miriam to discuss Talmud with her while they worked.
Her sister agreed readily. “Let’s review the section about Hanukkah.”
“I thought you already studied that with Joheved.”
Miriam’s cheeks flushed pink. “When Joheved and I were learning it, I wanted to stop because it was too hard. Now that I’m more experienced, I’d like to see how difficult it really is.”
“I’d love to,” Rachel replied, glad that Miriam had chosen a demanding sugia. “I only got to read Papa’s kuntres to myself.”
So they turned to the second chapter of Tractate Shabbat, where they soon came to a discussion over what action constitutes the mitzvah of Hanukkah. Was it, as Rava argued, placing the lamp where it can be seen to publicize the miracle? Or was it kindling the flame?
Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi said: A lamp lit for Shabbat that burned the entire day, when Shabbat ends he should extinguish the flame and rekindle it for Hanukkah. This is fine if you say that kindling constitutes the mitzvah, but if placement is the mitzvah, he should have added, “lift it and put it down” before rekindling.
“I disagree with Rava,” Rachel said. “If placement were the important thing, then there would be no need to relight the Shabbat lamp for Hanukkah. You would just leave it burning and move it to where it will be seen.”
“The Gemara agrees.” Miriam pointed to the text that ended the debate.
Furthermore, since we bless before lighting, saying “Baruch ata Adonai . . . Who commands us to kindle the Hanukkah light [ner shel Hanukkah],” we derive from this that kindling fulfills the mitzvah.
Rachel nodded. “So if putting the lamp by the door was really the mitzvah, we would make a blessing over that.”
“Which we don’t,” Miriam said.
Suddenly Rachel’s eyes opened wide. “Miriam, this is where the Shabbat lamp blessing comes from. The words are exactly the same—except on Shabbat we say ‘ner shel Shabbat’ instead of ‘ner shel Hanukkah.’ ”
“What are you talking about?”
“Eliezer and I got into a big argument over this, at his mother’s house of all places.” Rachel’s voice rose with excitement. “He said women shouldn’t bless the Shabbat lamp because there’s no such blessing in the Talmud.”
Miriam grinned. “And you made the blessing anyway.”
“Of course I did, just like Grandmama taught us. I meant to ask Papa about it when we got back.” Rachel shrugged. “But now it doesn’t matter. We’ve found the blessing in the Talmud.”
“But it’s not the same blessing.”
“It’s almost the same. Only one word is different. Look further down the page. There’s the blessing again, only this time the Gemara has all the words, not just the final ones.” Rachel pointed to the passage.
Rav Chiya bar Ashi said in the name of Rav: One who kindles a Hanukkah light must make a blessing.
Then she continued reading:“What blessing does he say? He blesses: Baruch ata Adonai . . . Who sanctifies us with His commandments and commands us to kindle the Hanukkah light. But where did He so command us?”
“The Sages question how we can have a commandment to kindle the menorah, since Hanukkah is never mentioned in the Torah,” Miriam said.
“I remember this.” Rachel nodded. “Now they give us two different Torah verses to justify it, both of which teach us that rabbinic mitzvot are as important as biblical mitzvot.”
“And that we have to say blessings over their mitzvot too, just like for Torah commandments,” Miriam added.
“Wait, we skipped the part about women.” Rachel began reading again.
“A woman may certainly kindle the Hanukkah light. Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi said: Women are obligated in the mitzvah of Hanukkah for they were involved in that miracle.”
“Papa told us about a Jewish woman who served as an instrument of the deliverance,” Miriam said. “In those days, virgin brides had to submit to the local Greek commander first. So when the high priest’s daughter was betrothed, the general demanded that she lie with him. She went to his tent, gave him so much wine that he passed out drunk, and cut his head off. When his army saw that their general was dead, they fled.”
Rachel said nothing. The story of the high priest’s daughter came too close for comfort. Does Miriam know?
But Miriam continued innocently, “I still remember how Joheved and I stayed up talking. It was just after she and Meir were betrothed, and I asked her what she would do if Count Thibault insisted on lying with her.”
“What did she say?” Rachel tried not to sound too interested.
“Joheved thought the idea was ridiculous, especially since Thibault was as old as Grandmamma Leah. So I asked her what she’d do if we had a young count, if she’d get him drunk and then cut off his head.”
“And?” Rachel asked. She was so close to confiding in Miriam. After all, she turned to me when Judah wanted a divorce. But it was easier somehow to confide in strangers like the doctor than in family, and if she told Miriam then she’d have to tell their judgmental older sister.
“Joheved said that if a lord instituted such a policy, we’d have to move away.”
“That’s easy to say when you’re a child, when you don’t understand what’s involved in packing up everything and moving.” Rachel spoke with such vehemence that Miriam looked at her with concern.
“I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought you might want to talk about it.”
Rachel looked into her sister’s compassionate eyes and sighed. “How did you find out?”
“Didn’t you think I’d be curious about that lovely new horse that the stable hands said belonged to me?” Miriam asked in return. “When they told me that you rode her several times a week, I decided to follow you.”
Rachel covered her face with her hands. “Mon Dieu.”
“Rachel, I’m only sorry you couldn’t unburden your heart to me.”
“I haven’t done anything sinful.”
“Of course not,” Miriam said. “According to Tractate Ketubot, a woman captured by the king to lie with him isn’t sinning.”
Rachel’s green eyes flashed. “But I haven’t lain with
the count . . . yet. I’ve managed to put him off until after the Cold Fair.” She explained how she’d used the subtleties of courtly love to thwart Eudes so far.
Miriam frowned, but then her brow relaxed as she turned to her sister. “Do you think you’ll enjoy it with him? After all, one of King Solomon’s proverbs says that stolen waters are sweet and bread eaten in secret is tasty.”
Rachel hesitated. This was a question she never thought to hear from her pious sister, a question she’d been afraid to ask herself. Lying with Eudes meant she wouldn’t have to suffer those endless months of longing and frustration while her husband was away.
“Maybe . . . if he’s skillful.” Then Rachel scowled. “But I hate it that I have no choice, that I can’t refuse him.”
“If you had a choice, then it would be adultery and you wouldn’t do it.” Miriam’s logic was impeccable. “At least you’re not a virgin like the high priest’s daughter.”
Rachel shuddered. “Thank Heaven.”
They were still studying Tractate Shabbat when Joheved’s family arrived for Hanukkah; yet Rachel had less time to study than before. Thanks to judicious use of black hellebore that Moses haCohen prescribed, Mama had recovered from her fever, but bouts of dizziness continued to plague her. The timing couldn’t have been worse. Along with the yeshiva students, numerous foreign merchant scholars also needed to be hosted during the festival. Each of the eight nights of Hanukkah required another banquet, never mind that women were supposed to refrain from work during the holiday, a reward for the high priest’s daughter’s effort.
It was only when Moses haCohen and Francesca arrived for souper one evening that Rachel excused herself to question them in private.
“What gossip have you heard from the court?” she asked anxiously.
Francesca grabbed Rachel’s hands. “Count Eudes has a new love, one of his mother’s ladies-in-waiting. So it’s quite possible he’s forgotten about you.”
Rashi's Daughters, Book III: Rachel Page 12