Rashi's Daughters, Book III: Rachel (4 page)

The recipient of this lecture remained silent, sulking at his rebuke. Jehan’s brother rubbed salt in Richard’s wound by pointing out that none of them had any idea what Eliezer’s jewels were worth, so that even in the unlikely event of finding a fence to buy them, they’d never get as good a price as his ransom anyway.

“If we don’t kill him, if we just let him go,” the gravelly voice snarled. “How do we know he’ll come back with the ransom?”

“You have my jewels,” Eliezer spoke up. “Keep them as security against my return. You may not be able to sell them, but if you have them, I can’t sell them either.”

As the three men considered this, Eliezer turned to Geoffrey. “You’ll have my oath. I will return.”

“Bah!” Richard spat. “You can’t trust the word of a Jew.”

Eliezer’s mind was working furiously. “Wait, I have another idea.”

“Go on,” Geoffrey said.

“What if, instead of attacking Jewish merchants and holding them for ransom, you charge them a toll for safe passage through the forest?” Eliezer took a breath before continuing, knowing full well that his life depended on his ability to persuade them. “You have plenty of men. If there are enough to escort a caravan and protect it from Odo’s henchmen, most merchants will gladly pay for the service.”

“They might,” Jehan’s brother said. “Since it’s the shortest route from Marseille to Troyes.”

“Duke Odo won’t like it if we stand between his men and travelers in his forest.” The brute’s raspy voice rose into a whine.

“On the other hand, Odo’s men have stooped to assaulting pilgrims, and I wouldn’t mind putting an end to that,” Geoffrey replied. “Especially if it meant more income for us.”

“If you offer to share some of your fees with Odo, I bet the duke will take his cut and not bother you,” Eliezer said. “And that’s where I can be of use. Members of Odo’s court always attend Troyes’ fair, and I can negotiate with them for you.”

“Don’t believe him.” The cruel one’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “The Jew will lie through his teeth to escape, and then he’ll lead Odo right to us.”

“Let me give it some thought.” Geoffrey began to walk away, then halted and leaned in to Jehan. “You can feed the prisoner whatever the others are eating, but no more bacon.”

 

Salomon ben Isaac was pacing.

“Shall I go and get them?” Meir, Salomon’s son-in-law, asked. “We don’t want the visiting scholars to wait too long for today’s Talmud session.”

The tension was palpable, and each small noise caused Meir’s eyes to jump nervously up the steep staircase that led to the women’s gallery. Standing next to Meir in the synagoue entryway, a merchant shifted and removed his cloak.

Judah, Salomon’s second son-in-law, shook his head. “Meir, today’s lesson will be delayed in any case once Rachel hears the news.”

Salomon, feeling older than his fifty-one years, looked up and sighed. “There’s my wife coming now.”

Rivka, her plump face unlined despite the grey curl that escaped her veil, stood at the top of the stairs, her two oldest granddaughters supporting her on either side. A moment later, Salomon’s three daughters followed.

Joheved, the eldest, leaned heavily on the banister as she turned the corner, and Salomon smiled at the telltale bulge at her midsection. So she was finally pregnant again. The loss of her baby boy, Salomon’s namesake, to smallpox two years ago had been devastating for her and Meir, and Salomon prayed regularly for another son to replace him. But Joheved had barely survived the child’s breech birth, and with two sons and two daughters, he had begun to suspect that she was drinking a sterility potion.

At least we have some good news to balance the bad, he thought, as he watched Rachel and Miriam walk down. Each carried a little girl in her arms whose straight or curly locks matched her mother’s. How had he managed to father two such dissimilar sisters? Miriam was slim, almost skinny considering that she was the mother of four, with long reddish brown hair and hazel eyes. She and Joheved were not unattractive, but neither of them could compare with their younger sister’s beauty.

Rachel’s perfect oval face, framed by bouncy black curls, was lovely enough, but it was impossible not to be captured by her striking emerald green eyes, a feature she emphasized by wearing that color regularly. As for her figure, she was plump where a woman ought to be plump.

Now that he thought about it, each of his daughters was unique. His eldest, Lady Joheved of Ramerupt-sur-Aube, ran Meir’s small feudal estate as if she were born into nobility instead of the family of a poor vintner. Calm and competent, nothing seemed to rattle her.

Miriam was the compassionate one, the curious one—good traits for a midwife who was always looking for new herbs and treatments for her patients. Rachel had barely known Salomon’s mother, Leah, but she was the one who followed in her grandmama’s entrepreneurial footsteps. Clever and resolute, Rachel not only helped to manage the family’s winemaking enterprise, but she also ran a business that lent money to women.

To be honest, she had been his favorite daughter since she was little, and he had long since given up trying to hide his preference.

Three daughters and no sons; yet Salomon couldn’t imagine trading any of them for a boy. One quality they shared equally, the one that most filled him with pride, was their devotion to Talmud study. Scholars themselves, each girl had married a man even more learned than herself, and between them he now had six grandsons.

His reverie was cut short as Rachel reached the bottom of the stairs. Dark circles beneath those green eyes marred her beauty, and her usually smiling face was drawn. He knew what was worrying her, and it still pained him to see the physical proof of her anxiety.

“Rachel.” He cleared his throat. “There is someone here to speak with you.”

The merchant wasted no time on pleasantries. “I have some disturbing news for you, Mistress Rachel.” He paused as she instinctively reached to clutch Salomon’s arm for support. “I accompanied your husband from Fustat to Marseilles. He asked me to bring his merchandise to Troyes along with my own.” The merchant swallowed hard and continued, “He said he was in a hurry, that he would ride on ahead.”

Rivka grabbed the baby as Rachel grew pale and her legs nearly gave beneath her. Blinking back tears, she whispered what all of them were wondering. “If Eliezer left first on horseback, while you traveled with the loaded carts, please tell me why he isn’t home yet.”

two

Miriam picked up her midwife’s basket. “Be sure to let me know if your wife feels feverish or if she starts bleeding heavily.”

“Are you sure you won’t spend the night?” Simon the Dyer asked. “I heard Matins chime a while ago, and it is Wednesday.”

“
Merci
, but
non
.” She smiled at the new father. “I expect there are still people about, even at this late hour. And I expect that my husband is among them.”

Miriam remembered the warning against demons from Tractate Pesachim:

But the text continued with how the sage Abaye later encountered Agrat and, because of his Torah learning, was powerful enough to forbid the demon from passing through populated areas. Troyes, one of the biggest cities in France, should be safe.

If it had been winter, or the weather bad, she might have accepted Simon’s offer, since the dyer lived at the far western side of Troyes, near the Vienne Creek. But during the Hot Fair, Count Thibault made sure the city streets, especially those between the fairgrounds and the Jewish Quarter, were well lit and patrolled by his men. Merchants thus felt safe to conduct business late into the night, with the Jewish ones staying up to study as well.

“I’ll ask Cresslin to walk you home.” Simon gestured to one of the men praying with him for a safe delivery. “He lives the closest to the Old Synagogue.”

“
Merci
,” she said. “I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.”

Once the courtyard gate closed behind them, Cresslin turned to Miriam. “So Simon finally has a son. Did he say anything about you performing the circumcision, or do you think he’ll want Avram to do it?”

Miriam sighed. She’d been a
mohelet
for almost four years, but Judah had been right when he said that she could wait twenty years and perform a thousand circumcisions, yet some men would still complain that brit milah was a man’s mitzvah. “Dyers like Simon must have good relations with all cloth merchants, especially foreign ones who are less accepting of me.”

“I suppose your doing a brit at the New Synagogue during fair season would upset the foreigners,” he said. “But they will have to accept a woman eventually; Avram won’t live forever.”

Before Miriam could reply, she was distracted by a disturbance ahead of them. “What’s that yelling?”

“Wait here. I’ll see what the trouble is.”

Cresslin bolted down the street while Miriam slowly followed. He had only been out of sight for a few moments when she saw him running back. Except that when he grew closer, she could see that it wasn’t Cresslin at all, but her husband, Judah.

He grabbed her hand. “We’ve got to get Eliezer home right away. I’ve already sent for the doctor.”

“Eliezer?” Miriam gasped. “Where is he? What happened?”

“They’ve probably gotten him to the fairgrounds by now. He arrived a little while ago, at the Croncels Gate, so ill that he could scarcely stay on his horse. When the guards realized who he was, they sent to the New Synagogue for help. I happened to be there, thank Heaven.”

Miriam had to run to keep up with Judah, but she wished they could have gone faster. “What’s wrong with him? Is he sick or is he injured?”

“I didn’t see any injuries, but that doesn’t mean he has none.” He pointed up the road. “There he is now.”

Miriam saw two men supporting another between them, slowly walking up rue de la Fanerie toward the old city. A fourth man carried a large saddlebag.

“The four of you can carry him,” Miriam shouted, tying up her skirt and grasping her basket tightly. “I’ll get Rachel.”

She ran past the convent of Notre Dame, crossed the bridge, and soon reached her family’s courtyard. Her heart beating wildly, she banged on her younger sister’s front door.

By the time Rachel’s elderly maidservant called out, “Who’s there,” Salomon had rushed to the door to meet Miriam, plying her with questions. But Miriam raced desperately up the stairs, only to nearly crash into Rachel on the landing outside her bedroom.

Before Miriam could catch her breath, Rachel cried out, “Can’t anyone get some sleep around here? Why are you running around in the middle of the night on Wednesday? Have you been attacked by demons?”

“Quickly now, put on your cloak.” Miriam hurried into her sister’s room and retrieved the garment. “Eliezer is in Troyes, and he’s ill.”

Rachel stared at her for a moment, bleary-eyed. Then she grabbed her cloak in one hand and Miriam’s arm in the other. “Take me to him. Immediately.”

The maidservant was still standing at the gate, waving the shoes Rachel had forgotten, as Troyes’ doctor, Moses haCohen, caught up with the two sisters and their father at the end of the street. A moment later, turning the corner, Rachel could make out the shadowy figures approaching in the distance and, ignoring whatever she might step in, bolted toward the man she loved.

 

The next afternoon, Rachel’s voice rose in dismay as she refilled her husband’s wine cup. “You’re actually planning to pay the ransom?” It was all she could do to keep from screaming. He’d barely made it home alive, and now he wanted to put himself in danger again?

Eliezer helped himself to another slice of lamb. “I vowed an oath that I would return with food and supplies worth twenty-five dinars.”

“Twenty-five dinars? I thought the standard ransom around the Great Sea was thirty.”

He squeezed her hand under the table. “Luckily Geoffrey doesn’t appear to know that.”

Rachel had waited impatiently while her husband slept through breakfast and morning services, and now their entire family crowded around the table to hear what had happened. Shemiah’s eyes opened wide at his father’s adventure with bandits in the Forest of Burgundy, but Rachel only felt grateful beyond measure that he’d managed to escape and come home to her.

“Surely an oath given under such duress can be annulled by the
beit din
.” She appealed to her father. “He would have been killed otherwise.”

“The only reason bandits and pirates don’t kill Jews as they do their other prisoners is because we pay ransom.” Eliezer took her hand. “We must pay it, Rachel. Otherwise we’ll be setting a terrible precedent. Besides, Geoffrey kept at least twenty-five dinars worth of jewels.”

“I don’t care about the money. You were captured in Burgundy, so Duke Odo must indemnify our losses.” She looked up at Eliezer, her eyes pleading. “Please don’t go back there.”

Salomon turned away from his daughter’s display of concern for her husband. One of the reasons the Troyes fairs were so popular, and thus so successful, was that if any merchants were attacked in another province on the way Count Thibault would prohibit anyone from there to trade at the fairs unless the sovereign made restitution.

“Eliezer isn’t expected to return until the end of the Hot Fair,” Salomon said. “Maybe Geoffrey’s gang has harassed enough merchants that by then Duke Odo will have sent some knights to drive them from his land.”

Eliezer shook his head. “Geoffrey has plenty of his own men, and if Odo were going to arrest them, he would have done so by now. Geoffrey isn’t a bad sort, actually, although I wouldn’t mind seeing some of his men swinging from the gallows.”

Salomon stroked his beard in thought. “Let me remind you of the discussion between Rabbi Meir and his learned wife Beruria in the first chapter of Tractate Berachot.”