Rashi's Daughters, Book III: Rachel (37 page)

“Rothard wishes to save you, but he was forced to flee himself and no longer has sufficient strength to assist you,” the priest said. “Your God has abandoned you. Either accept baptism or bear the sins of your ancestors.”

“The verdict against us has been decreed and we cannot be saved.” Kalonymus slumped against the wall. “Give us until tomorrow to respond.”

But the rabbi didn’t need to ask his followers what to do. Rabbi Amnon eloquently spoke for all when he said, “We cannot ponder the Holy One’s ways. He gave us His Torah and therein commanded that we allow ourselves to be slain for the Sanctification of His Holy Name. How fortunate is the one to do His will. Not only does he merit eternal life, sitting among the righteous, but he exchanges a world of darkness for one of light, a world of trouble for one of joy, a fleeting world for one that endures forever.” Then Amnon sat down at one of the desks, found parchment and quill, and began to write.

Catharina gazed around the locked room, its air heavy with the stench of the latrine they’d improvised in a corner, and her heart sank. They were trapped: fish in a net. It was too late for her, or any of them, to accept the bishop’s offer. None of them would leave this place alive.

The following morning, it wasn’t the friendly priest at the window but, to their horror, one of Emicho’s men. Soon there were heavy footsteps on the roof, and those who remained of the once mighty Jewish community stared at each other, defiance burning in their eyes. The end had come, but it would be on their terms.

The women screamed curses out the window, abusing and insulting the enemy.

“In whom do you trust, a trodden corpse?” Catharina taunted them.

“The disgraced, disgusting son of adultery,” her neighbor yelled.

Rabbi Amnon’s sister was not to be outdone. “We will never exchange the Holy One for a hanged, crucified, dirty, abominable Nazarene, disgusting even in his own generation, a bastard, the son of a menstruant.”

The women cheered when this last blasphemy drew bellows of rage from the soldiers outside.

“We cannot delay! Our foes are approaching!” A yeshiva student named Asher bared his neck. “Let us act like Abraham Avinu with his son Isaac, offering ourselves to the Holy One in Heaven. Whoever has a knife, come sacrifice me.”

When everyone stepped back in shock, Amnon looked pleadingly at Kalonymus, who slowly nodded his approval. The Italian rabbi examined his sword, saw that its edge was perfect, and recited the blessing for ritual slaughter. Then, as all except Samson averted their eyes, he slit Asher’s throat and threw himself on his sword.

They were still transfixed by the blood gushing from the two dying men when the sudden crash of falling ceiling tiles made them look up into a rain of arrows. Samson jumped onto a table, shield held high to protect those below. He slashed wildly at the enemy on the roof, forcing the archers back.

Rabbi Amnon’s sister begged those with knives, “Do not spare our children, for the uncircumcised ones will capture them and raise them with their foul heresy.”

In an instant she was surrounded by a frenzy of killing as husband slaughtered wife, parents sacrificed sons and daughters, and friend killed friend, their blood mingling on the floor.

Catharina gazed at her children, standing silent as statues, and marveled that her family had survived until now. Suddenly Jacob fell at her feet, grasping at an arrow in his shoulder. She looked up at her husband, arrow shafts protruding from his body, and let out a bitter wail. “Will You bear this, Oh, Holy One, and keep silent at our extreme suffering? May Your servants’ spilt blood be speedily avenged!”

She quickly ended Jacob’s agony, then her view shifted to a hole in the roof where light flooded in. “Oh, Angels in Heaven, has there ever been so great a sacrifice, even since the time of Abraham?”

Her heart heavy as lead, she slit one child’s throat after another. Finally she clutched little Salomon to her breast and ended the life that had so recently filled hers with joy. Then as her youngest son slumped in her arms, she collapsed atop her children’s corpses, an arrow in her back.

Samson felt only a sting when the first arrow lodged in his thigh. The second arrow tore through his side, but he ignored the searing pain and fought on, determined to uphold his shield until no Jew remained who needed his protection. A third arrow grazed his cheek, but then another struck his calf and his leg buckled.

“What sons of adultery you are, believing in one born of adultery!” he goaded his attackers. “But I believe in the One God who lives forever. In Him I have trusted until this day, and in Him I shall trust until my soul leaves me. If you kill me, my soul will rest in the Garden of Eden, whereas you will descend into the very pit of hell.”

Arrow after arrow slammed into him, forcing him down and pinning him to the wooden floorboards. Agony threatened to overwhelm him until the torment abruptly disappeared and the room around him shone with incredible light. Dressed in white, brightness radiating from her body, Catharina beckoned to him. Smiling behind her, also in white, were their children, his old master Jacob, and, in the back, Abraham Avinu himself. They were all calling him, welcoming him, encouraging him to join them.

Samson let the sword drop from his hand.

 

Returning to Troyes with spices and dyestuffs from Toledo, Eliezer sensed something amiss as soon as he entered the Auxerre Gate. Normally excitement and eager anticipation were palpable as the Hot Fair approached. But there were no cheerful greetings from the guards, and the fairgrounds, while tidy and festooned, were too quiet. And shouldn’t there be more merchants around? The Cloth Fair was due to open at the week’s end.

Could rumors of attacks on the Jews of Speyer and Worms be true? Eliezer shook his head in disbelief. Even if so, riots in Rouen last winter hadn’t disturbed the Cold Fair. Still, he hurried his pace. It was nearly time for
disner
, and those at Salomon’s table would have the latest news.

His anxiety heightened when Rachel ran out to greet him, clinging to him with relief instead of passion.

“Oh, Eliezer, thank Heaven you’re home.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’ve been so worried.”

Before he could ask why, Salomon and Judah were bearing down on them, and Eliezer knew something dreadful had happened. It was difficult to say which man looked more miserable; both had lost weight and there were dark circles under their swollen eyes. Judah hadn’t looked this desolate since learning of Aaron’s death, and Salomon appeared worse than when Rivka died. Refusing to let go, Rachel kept her arm around Eliezer as he washed. Desperate for information, yet afraid of what her family would tell him, he silently accompanied them into Salomon’s salon.

Miriam spoke first, apparently the only one who could do so without breaking into tears. “We just received the most distressing letter from Cousin Elazar.”

Eliezer looked at her blankly, until she added, “Aunt Sarah’s son in Speyer.”

Eliezer relaxed slightly. Cousin Elazar was obviously well enough to write about the situation.

“He says that a horde of fanatical pilgrims, led by Count Emicho of Lorraine, may his bones be ground to dust, attacked the Jewish Quarter in Speyer on the eighth of Iyar,” Miriam began. “Bishop Johann’s men were able to protect most of his Jews, so the evil ones headed for Worms.”

Judah was trembling, and she reached for his hand. “Cousin Elazar tells us the Jews there weren’t so fortunate. In the few days it took the wicked Emicho to reach Worms, he attracted every villain in the vicinity, promising plunder and guaranteeing that whoever killed a Jew would have his sins pardoned.”

Judah began to weep, and Miriam paused to comfort him, leaving Rachel to continue. “Apparently half the Jewish community remained in their homes, while the rest took refuge in the bishop’s castle. When our cousin wrote this, he’d heard only that those at home were murdered. He had no word on the fate of those who sheltered with the bishop.” Her expression held more fear than hope.

“When is the letter dated?” Eliezer asked.

“The twentieth of Iyar. Almost a month ago.” Rachel’s face crumpled. “But no merchants from Worms have yet arrived in Troyes, and none from Speyer or Mayence either.”

Eliezer stared at Judah and Salomon, both of whom had barely touched their food.
No wonder they’re so distraught
.

“Giuseppe was here when we received the letter,” Miriam said. “No one could keep him from riding to Worms immediately.”

“Just because merchants from the Rhineland aren’t here yet doesn’t mean that a disaster has occurred there,” Eliezer said. “Surely none will dare to set out with Emicho’s men roaming the countryside; just as I wouldn’t leave Troyes until Peter’s pilgrims were gone.”

“That’s true.” Salomon sighed with relief and reached for a piece of bread. “And we did write to warn them of the danger.”

“Even so, I’m fasting on Monday and Thursday until Giuseppe returns.” Judah crossed his arms over his chest.

Rachel doubted that she’d see Giuseppe or her horse again, but she said nothing of her fears. Nor of the fact that there had been an eclipse of the moon only four months ago. Helpless to save their brethren in the Rhineland, she and her sisters threw themselves into their study of Tractate Taanit, which taught about fasts decreed to avert drought or other disasters. But this only increased her fright over the German Jews’ fate.

They soon reached the sixth Mishnah of chapter 4, which explained the two darkest fasts in the Jewish calendar: fasts the Jews of Troyes would be observing in a few weeks. Each commemorated a series of calamities befalling Israel.

For the benefit of Hannah and Leah, who listened to their mother’s Talmud study whenever possible, Joheved read from Salomon’s
kuntres
to clarify these tragic events, which eerily threatened to reflect those in Worms.

“It was on the Seventeenth of Tammuz that Moses came down from Sinai and saw Israel sinning with the golden calf, which caused him to smash the Ten Commandments.”

Leah looked at her mother in confusion. “How do the Rabbis know what day Moses broke the Tablets?” She was too young to understand why all the adults were so sad, and Joheved hoped to keep it that way.

“Listen to how the Gemara explains it,” Miriam said.

“The Rabbis also deduce that the spies returned to Moses with their dire assessment on Tishah b’Av,” Rachel added. “Causing the Almighty to decree that the Children of Israel must wander in the desert for forty years before entering Eretz Israel.”

“Papa says that Bethar was one of the largest Jewish cities remaining after the Romans destroyed Jerusalem,” Joheved said. “They fought for fifty years before it fell.”

Rachel flinched as she mentally compared Bethar to Worms or Mayence, cities that would fall in days, not years.

It was Hannah, clearly not ignorant of the events in the Rhineland, who asked the question that occupied her elders’ thoughts as well: “Why do all these terrible things keep happening to us?”

 

As the monstrous news from the east trickled into Troyes, the fairgrounds grew subdued. By the Seventeenth of Tammuz, many Jews of Troyes were mourning relatives from the Rhineland, and when Giuseppe returned, throwing himself into Judah’s arms and bawling like a child, most already knew the worst. Cousin Elazar’s community in Speyer was the only one to withstand Emicho’s marauders. In Worms the bishop had been as unsuccessful at saving the Jews hiding in his castle as in protecting those hidden in their homes.

“I went to Elisha’s, may his merit protect us.” Giuseppe trembled as he told Salomon’s distraught household, “The courtyard had been ransacked.”

“Perhaps his family escaped,” Judah said in desperation.

Giuseppe’s chin began to quiver so he could scarcely speak. “There were bloodstains on the floor . . . several of them.”

“
Mon Dieu
.” Miriam began to cry.

“I located one of the survivors.” Giuseppe forced himself to continue. “A few Jews from the castle agreed to sully themselves with the heretics’ smelly waters in order to bury those lying naked in the streets. Two weeks later they returned to bury the rest of them.”

The color drained from Salomon’s face. “Our people in Worms, the yeshiva, my colleagues there—all destroyed.”

“You’re sure Elisha is dead?” Judah couldn’t give up hope. “Perhaps he was away from home.”

“He was home for Shavuot.” Giuseppe put his arm around Judah for support. “I spoke with the man who buried him.”

“Is it true what they’re saying about Mayence?” Eliezer asked, hoping against hope that the rumors were false.

Giuseppe blinked back tears and nodded. “The entire community of Mayence . . . over one thousand pious souls . . . massacred. The last I heard, the evil ones were approaching Cologne.”

“Adonai our God! You are wiping out the remnant of Israel,” Salomon cried out, quoting the prophet Ezekiel. “All the great yeshivot are gone.” He buried his face in his hands and wept.