“What is the last thing it says about Beruria in the first chapter of Tractate Avodah Zarah?”
Meir searched his memory for the obscure text.
Beruria said to Meir, “It is shameful that my sister sits in a brothel.” So he took three dinars and went to Rome, thinking, if she has done nothing forbidden, a miracle will occur. He disguised himself as a cavalryman and told her, “Submit to me.” She replied, “I am menstruating.” He said, “I do not care,” and she said, “But there are many more beautiful than I.” He thought, clearly she has not done what is forbidden. She says this to whoever comes here.
He went to her guard and said, “Give her to me.” The man replied, “I fear the government.” Meir said to him, “Take these three dinars. Use half for bribes and keep half ” . . . So the guard released her. The authorities learned of the matter . . . they carved the likeness of Rabbi Meir on the gates and declared that whoever sees his face should arrest him . . . Meir fled to Bavel. Some say because of this; others say because of the Beruria incident.
Meir eyed Salomon with trepidation. “The Beruria incident?”
Salomon closed his eyes and sighed. “I learned this from my teachers in Mayence. It has never been written down:One time Beruria mocked what the sages said about women being flighty. Meir said to her, ‘By your life! You will eventually accept their words.’ He instructed one of his disciples to tempt her to infidelity. The disciple urged her for many days, until she finally consented. When the matter became known, she strangled herself, while Rabbi Meir fled because of the disgrace.”
Meir shuddered. What could have possessed Rabbi Meir to do such a thing? No wonder this piece of Talmud wasn’t written down. He could feel Salomon’s gaze and knew he must demonstrate what he’d learned from the ignominious tale.
“I must not be like my namesake and tempt my wife to sin.”
Salomon nodded, and they began walking again.
Meir usually prided himself on the parallels between himself and the Talmudic Rabbi Meir, especially when it came to them both having very learned wives. But now their similarity frightened him.
Meir thought of how hard he fought to hide his outrage whenever he observed Milo staring at Joheved with adulation, and his heart overflowed with sadness for Rabbi Meir and Beruria, that the scholar’s jealousy had brought about such terrible consequences. He had no choice but to trust Joheved and pray that their story wouldn’t end in tragedy.
Eliezer unhitched his pack animals and watched from the bridge as they lumbered to the riverbank. The gushing waterway he’d crossed on the way to Toledo had shrunk upon his return to a small stream, but at least there was some water flowing. The previous two creeks were dry. The horses drank eagerly as he scanned the cloudless sky. It hadn’t rained at all on his trip to Troyes, which normally would be a blessing, but as the passing wheat fields looked increasingly stunted and parched, Eliezer began buying grain from any estate with a surplus.
Once he reached the borders of Champagne, there was none to be had, and the covetous looks his bulging grain sacks drew made him grateful for the count’s men patrolling the roads. On his last night outside Troyes, Eliezer regretfully packed away the book he brought to read on the journey—an Arabic translation of Ptolemy’s Great Treatise. Until he left Troyes once more, the only languages he’d be reading would be Hebrew and Aramaic.
Thinking of Rachel, Eliezer sighed. Would she welcome him with an eager smile, or would some disaster have befallen his family while he was gone? Even if all was well otherwise, she might have her flowers. Or worse. He grimaced as he remembered the Talmudic curse, “May you return from a journey and find your wife an uncertain niddah.”
With some anxiety, he entered Salomon’s courtyard, where Anna was showing some new maidservants how to do laundry. That was a good sign—now Rachel wouldn’t be so burdened by housework.
Anna hurried to greet him. “Rachel and the others are still in the vineyard, but they should be home soon. Are you hungry? I can get you some bread and cheese.”
“I can wait for souper.” He lowered his voice to a whisper and asked, “My mother-in-law?”
“Rivka is much the same.” Anna’s expression sobered. “But Judah’s mother is very ill. He, Miriam, and the children left for Paris a month ago.”
“Any more news I should be aware of ?”
She broke into a smile. “Your children and Rachel are well—may the Holy One protect them. Just two days ago, she and Joheved went swimming together.”
Eliezer grinned back at her. Things were better than he’d expected. Together they unloaded his merchandise, giving him plenty of time to get his animals settled at the stables before afternoon services. And whom should he meet there but Judah’s old study partner, Elisha.
“So you too have just arrived in Troyes.” Eliezer greeted him with a quick embrace. “Where’s Giuseppe?”
“He’s trying to find us some new lodgings,” Elisha said as they stepped into the now well-swept streets. “The inn we were assigned to is dreadful.”
Elisha and Giuseppe were business partners, the former from Worms and the latter from Genoa. According to Rachel, who seemed to know all the Ganymedes, their relationship was carnal as well as professional. She’d also told him that Judah had once been the object of Elisha’s affection.
That reminded him. “Judah and his family are in Paris with his sick mother. You two can stay with us until they return.”
“I appreciate it, although it’s disappointing not to see Judah until the Cold Fair.” Elisha began waving furiously, and a few moments later Giuseppe joined them.
“What merchandise did you bring from Sepharad?” Giuseppe draped his arm around Elisha’s shoulder. “Perhaps we can take it off your hands.”
“The usual—dyestuffs, pepper, other spices. I can give you a good deal on cinnamon and cumin. And I picked up some grain on my way back.”
Elisha’s jaw dropped. “You have wheat? In Worms it’s worth almost as much as pepper.”
“I have some wheat, but mostly I have peas and barley from the spring harvest.”
“It doesn’t matter. Unless it rains soon, you’ll make an obscene profit on all of them.” Elisha shook his head sadly. “It hasn’t rained in the Rhineland for over six months and . . .”
“This spring was the hottest anyone can remember.” Giuseppe completed Elisha’s sentence. “People are worried about famine.”
“Surely there will be other merchants here with wheat.”
“Not if the drought is widespread,” Elisha said.
Eliezer recalled the eclipse last fall. The sun had only been partially hidden in Troyes, but in Allemagne the eclipse was total. “We should find out where wheat is plentiful and send buyers there immediately. If it’s so far away that we can’t bring the grain here by the end of the Hot Fair, at least we’ll have some to sell at the Cold Fair.”
“Giuseppe and I won’t have money to invest until the fair ends,” Elisha said. “But if you put up the capital, we can find the wheat.”
“Then we can split the profits,” Giuseppe added.
“Agreed.”
Eliezer’s spirits soared when he saw Rachel standing at the gate, apparently waiting for him. His gait quickened as she began walking toward him, and by the time he reached her they were both running.
“I missed you so much,” Rachel whispered between kisses.
“How much time do we have before afternoon services?”
“I’m sure there’s enough time left.” Rachel pulled him toward the stairs. “Joheved is watching the children.”
As soon as he closed their bedroom door, Rachel was in his arms, simultaneously kissing him and removing his clothes. She had already loosened her bliaut and chemise, which were lying on the floor moments later. Eliezer didn’t bother to take off his hose before diving onto their bed and pulling the curtains closed.
Rachel was equally eager that night, the next morning, and every day until her flowers began, two week
s later. Eliezer braced himself for the return of her dark moods, but she remained uncharacteristically cheerful.
“You’re remarkably happy for someone who has to sleep in her own linens,” he said as she made a point of slowly pulling up her hose as they dressed in the morning.
She blew him a kiss across the room. “Miriam has made being niddah much less unpleasant for me.”
“How so?”
“First of all, I don’t have to immerse in the synagogue’s disgusting dark mikvah. At least not most months.” When he looked at her with concern, as she knew he would, she continued, “Miriam showed me a lovely pond in the forest. It’s secluded, with a sandy bank, and after Papa said it was a kosher mikvah, lots of us go there to immerse when it’s not too cold.”
“You’ll have to show me the place.” He did a mental calculation and grinned at her. “Maybe we can use it together at Rosh Hashanah.”
“Maybe,” she replied. “Miriam also showed me how to use a mokh when I have my flowers. It’s less messy than wearing a sinar alone.”
“I suppose it would be.” Eliezer’s flirtatious mood evaporated at this mention of his wife’s menstrual apparatus.
“I think it was Joheved’s idea, since she had all that extra wool. But she wasn’t sure it would be allowed on Shabbat, since it might be considered carrying instead of wearing. So she discussed it with Papa.”
Carrying items from one domain to another was forbidden work on the Sabbath, but wearing something was, of course, permitted. Since a mokh went into a woman’s womb, Eliezer could understand how it could be acceptable, despite the fact that it was a new innovation. “If it makes being niddah less onerous for women, I think we should be lenient,” he said.
“Not that Joheved cares anymore,” Rachel said. “She hasn’t been niddah since little Salomon was born. I guess he’ll be her final child.”
Eliezer gave silent thanks to his sister-in-law. Last summer Rachel went to bed early when she was niddah, but now she and Joheved stayed up studying together until he and Meir returned from the late-night Talmud sessions. Now that he thought of it, something seemed to be bothering Meir; he occasionally asked Eliezer what the last speaker had said, and his young students sometimes had to repeat their questions for him.
“I’m also happy because Milo will soon return with a new English ram for Joheved,” she continued. “He has to be back soon or it will be too late for the rutting season in September.”
“That’s an odd thing to make you happy,” he said.
Rachel proceeded to explain the situation in Ramerupt. “I know we won’t have better wool immediately, but we can keep the male lambs with the finest wool for breeding, and eventually we’ll have wool that’s worth dyeing with kermes and indigo.”
Eliezer sighed. So that’s what was distracting Meir from Talmud. “What’s Joheved going to do when Milo returns, as you’re so sure he will?”
“Oh, I have an idea how to solve that.” Rachel grinned at him but said nothing more.
Eliezer smiled at her confidence. Even in the unlikely event that Milo did bring back a ram that met Rachel’s expectations, it would still take several years for her scheme to work. And that was assuming she found a competent fuller—which meant he was in no danger of having to give up his astronomy studies in Toledo.
He was a student in al-Zarqālī’s school now—a novice astronomer to be sure, but Eliezer knew he would quickly rise in the ranks. For his study partner, and good friend, was Abraham bar Hiyya, son of the Nasi in Barcelona. When it came to astronomy and mathematics, Abraham was brilliant. Slightly younger than Eliezer, he too had little patience for those with less intellect. But because he understood that Eliezer’s ignorance was due to lack of exposure to the subject, and because he saw how quickly Eliezer learned the material, Abraham was willing to study with him. Normally Eliezer would have chafed under such an unequal partnership, but Abraham was even more ignorant of Talmud than Eliezer was of astronomy.
Abraham had studied Jewish Law with Rabbi Isaac Alfasi, author of the great legal code Sefer ha-Halachot. Eliezer was horrified to learn that instead of having his students study the Talmud itself, Alfasi had transcribed the Talmud’s halachic conclusions verbatim, without the surrounding deliberations.
Eliezer and Abraham almost came to blows early on, when Abraham declared Talmud study unnecessary because Alfasi’s work contained all the essential decisions and laws. But once Eliezer quoted a few choice sections of Talmud for him, and showed him the importance of somebody knowing enough Talmud to make new laws, Abraham laughingly agreed that the French and German Jews could concentrate on Talmud exclusively. He intended to study the stars.
Eliezer was still smiling when Rachel finished dressing and went downstairs with Shemiah and little Rivka. One girl and one boy. Now that he’d fulfilled the mitzvah of procreation, he didn’t need to father any more children. Rachel might be eager for another baby, but he found that he wasn’t. No more pregnancies meant that Rachel would be able to travel with him again. Half the year in Troyes, for the fairs, and half in Toledo—that would be perfect.
Suddenly another thought cheered him. Milo would surely notice how well wheat was growing in the lands he passed through on his way back from Angleterre.
Looking forward to immersing that evening and resuming relations with Eliezer, Rachel returned from the vineyard early to find the courtyard bustling with more unexpected guests. She recognized Samson from Mayence: no one could forget that redheaded giant. But the group included three veiled women, a young man, and several children.
Joheved rushed up as soon as Rachel closed the gate. “Can you find room for Samson’s family in your house?”
Rachel groaned inwardly. She could put them in the children’s bedroom, but then Shemiah and Rivka would have to share hers. “But I’m going to the river tonight to immerse, remember. Isn’t there anyplace else they can stay?”
“Everyplace else is full of yeshiva students. And thanks to your husband, Elisha and Giuseppe are at Miriam’s.” Joheved paused to think. “What if your children sleep with mine?”
“I suppose so.” Rachel’s pout changed to curiosity. “What’s Samson’s family doing in Troyes?”
“They’re here for Pesach’s wedding.” Joheved saw Rachel’s startled expression and held up her hand to forestall any questions. “There’s a severe shortage of wheat in Worms, so Samson decided to have the wedding here. I’m so happy to see Catharina again.”
“I thought she wasn’t to come back here,” Rachel whispered. Catharina, the parchment maker’s daughter, and Joheved were girlhood friends. But Catharina had moved to Mayence after she converted to Judaism and married Samson.
“Her brother and everyone who worked in his shop died a few years ago. Some of their sheepskins carried a pestilence.” Joheved shuddered. “Thank Heaven it wasn’t from any of ours. Besides, it’s been over fifteen years since she left Troyes. No one will remember her.”
Within a week, Rachel was grateful for Catharina’s visit. Except to attend services, Catharina never stepped outside Salomon’s courtyard. Anna and Miriam’s cook did the shopping, but Catharina insisted on helping with the other household chores. Her daughters and daughter-in-law pitched in as well, leaving Rachel free to concentrate on the vineyard and her jewelry clients.
Baruch and Samson agreed to postpone the wedding for a month, hoping that Judah and Miriam would return by then. But regardless, it seemed that Samson preferred to stay in Troyes as long as possible, should more grain merchants arrive. Samson clearly had the credit to buy wheat at the outrageous price the dealers asked.
“He does very well in the fur business,” Eliezer explained to Rachel. “With his size and expertise in arms, he needn’t hire mercenaries for protection. He speaks the Slavic language, so his old countrymen trust him. And I’ve never seen anyone who could drink more and still remain sober.”
She laughed. “Quite an advantage in negotiating prices.”
Rachel ha
d just slid her jewelry case behind one of the wine casks in her cellar when a noise on the stairs startled her. She peered up to see who’d been watching her, but it was only Joheved.
“There you are.” Joheved sighed with relief as she hurried down the stairs. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“What’s the matter? Is Judita in labor?”
“Not yet.” Joheved looked at her with dread. “Milo is home. And he’s brought back two of the finest rams I’ve ever seen. Whatever am I to do?”
If not for her sister’s anxiety, Rachel would have hugged Joheved in exultation. “Don’t worry. I’ll explain what to do when we get to Ramerupt. I want to see these rams.”
Two hectic weeks passed, however, before Rachel found an opportunity to visit the new livestock. Miriam’s family returned from sitting shiva for Judah’s mother just before Shabbat. Their arrival was fortuitous, because three days later Judita went into labor, giving birth to a baby boy. Zipporah performed the midwife’s job perfectly, while Miriam supervised.
Joheved wouldn’t leave Troyes until after her grandson’s brit milah, which Miriam reluctantly agreed to do. She’d been doing circumcisions for seven years, but she’d never grown accustomed to the hostile stares that greeted her presence on the bima with her mohel’s kit. Miriam didn’t want her actions to challenge her community; she just wanted to fulfill the mitzvah. So unless the mother asked for her specifically, or the baby boy was family, Miriam left the rites during fair times to Avram the Gold-smith, the mohel who’d trained her.
Samson and Baruch scheduled their children’s wedding for Tuesday, while the moon was still waxing. Rachel was so impatient to see those rams that, when she became niddah again, she convinced Eliezer to relinquish their large four-poster bed to the newlyweds for the nuptial week. After the ceremony, she and Joheved would go to Ramerupt.
Eliezer needed no convincing. As anticipated, Milo had reported passing lush fields of wheat in Picardy, near the Flemish border, which Eliezer was determined to reach at harvest time. Elisha and Giuseppe had already left for the area, their funds augmented by Samson and Miriam. Talmudic skills were required to renegotiate Eliezer’s original simple partnership with Elisha to the five parties’ satisfaction; it was necessary to take into account the different amount of capital supplied by each investor, that the men buying wheat would likely not bring back equal quality or quantities, and that the ones traveling west to procure the grain were not those who’d be selling it in the Rhineland.
Rashi's Daughters, Book III: Rachel Page 19