by Maggie Anton
“My mother? Is she here too?” And when Joheved nodded, he said, “I thought I was dreaming about my mother.”
“You’ve been very ill. Your mother and I have been taking care of you for weeks.”
“How long have I been sick? What day is it?” When Joheved told him, Meir fell back into the cushion in shock. “I can’t believe it. I missed Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and Sukkot too.”
“Are you at all hungry?” she asked eagerly. “One of Papa’s merchant friends heard about your ailment and offered a bag of some special grain from the East. He says people there eat it with every meal, like we eat bread, only it’s easier to digest. It’s called ‘rice,’ and Mama cooked some for you.”
He agreed to try it, and Joheved hurried down to the kitchen, where a small amount of the strange beige seeds had been cooking in chicken broth all night. She had wanted to be the one to introduce this new food to Meir, to give Marona the good news that here was something he could eat without discomfort.
Meir’s brow furrowed as he stared at the bowl of rice; the stuff looked like maggots. He was more thirsty than hungry, but Joheved was looking at him so hopefully that he took a spoonful to please her. After chewing it carefully, Meir had to admit that the rice didn’t taste bad. It didn’t have any particular flavor at all, besides that of the broth. He took another spoonful, then another, and then downed the bowl completely.
He felt as if he could have eaten more, except that any food he ate was soon followed by cramps, and he didn’t want to make them worse by eating too much at one time. Eventually his sore insides did protest, but the merchant was right—the rice soup was definitely less painful to eat than soup with bread.
twenty-five
Fall 4837 (1076 C.E.)
A week later, Meir was able to eat rice soup and drink ale with almost no discomfort. Best of all, he could control his bowels well enough to dispense with the swaddling. Sitting up tired him, and standing was out of the question, but he was able to spend a few hours each morning helping his students with their lessons.
Friday morning, Meir woke so early that the lamp was still lit. He could see Joheved half-dozing nearby, one of Salomon’s kuntres in her lap, and his heart swelled as he observed her sleeping form. Then his stomach rumbled with hunger and her head jerked up. Another growl, and she hurried downstairs.
He could smell his breakfast before she opened the door. Despite Joheved’s concern that he was eating too fast, he quickly downed the entire bowlful. When the only response from his belly was more hungry rumbles, he begged her to refill the bowl and to put some meat and vegetables in it this time.
Meir ate his second helping slowly, savoring each bite. He couldn’t remember when he had eaten anything so delicious. He mopped the bowl with his last piece of bread and sighed with contentment. He was still hungry, but he decided to be sure this meal agreed with him before attempting thirds.
Joheved leaned over to remove the empty dish, and as she did so, her chemise’s neckline gaped open. Between the lamp and approaching dawn, there was sufficient illumination to afford Meir a splendid view of her exposed breasts and belly. An explosion of desire flooded his loins, and he groaned with the intensity of his need.
“What’s the matter?” Certain that he was in pain, Joheved was furious with herself for allowing him to eat so much, so fast.
It was all Meir could do to keep his hands down; he was so eager to reach up and caress that bare flesh. He looked up into his wife’s eyes, so full of apprehension, and replied hoarsely, “I’m starving, but not for food.”
Joheved recognized her husband’s lust and couldn’t believe her eyes. But her doubts disappeared when Meir took her in his arms and pulled her onto the bed beside him. His kisses rained down on her and Joheved reveled in every one. She tore off her chemise to give his hands free access to her body. His excitement was contagious, and she let him know she wanted him too.
“Oh no!” Meir moaned when he found himself too weak to assume the customary position above his wife.
Joheved wasn’t going to let anything stop them. “Don’t worry. I have strength enough for both of us. Just lean back and close your eyes.” Then she climbed up and straddled him.
Meir felt her damp warmth envelope him and he almost cried out with pleasure. The most exquisite feelings emanated from his loins as she slowly moved up and down. It had been so long, so very long. It was then that he began to remember his fears, and desperate to avoid the demonic visions, he opened his eyes…
The scene in front of him was overwhelming. Joheved’s naked body, displayed before him in all its glory, was sensuously moving over his. Control was impossible under such circumstances, and with a sudden convulsion of release that was almost more pain than pleasure, it was over. Meir sank back into the cushions, dazed from the intensity of his experience, disappointed that it had ended so fast. He couldn’t possibly have satisfied Joheved.
But when he looked over at her, stretched out next to him, she returned his concerned gaze with one of love and happiness. He stroked her hair and assured her, “It will be better next time, Cherie, I promise.”
She hadn’t experienced the physical release that he had, but Joheved felt more than satisfied. A wave of affection rushed through her and she reached over to kiss him. Baruch ata Adonai…who heals the sick.
Surprisingly, Meir didn’t feel tired. He felt refreshed, as if he had just awakened from a long nap. He leisurely returned her kisses, enjoying the memory of what he had just experienced. This time, rather than a sudden assault, his yetzer hara sneaked up on him. Under its influence, he took hold of the bed linens that concealed his wife’s body and slowly drew them back.
By now the room was bright with early morning sunlight, and Joheved’s cheeks flamed as he stared at her naked flesh, his eyes widening to take in every curve. Remembering what Ben Yochai had said, she fought the urge to pull the covers up again. Soon Meir could no longer confine his pleasure to his eyes, and he reached out to caress the beauty displayed before him.
“Are you sure we should be doing this so soon?” Joheved’s emotions warred between the excitement his attentions were beginning to elicit and anxiety that he’d become ill again if he tried to push his body beyond its limits.
As if to answer her question, he took her hand and placed it between his thighs, where she would have no doubts as to his need and capability. He chuckled when she promptly pulled her hand away, enjoying her embarrassment as well as the passion her brief touch ignited.
“Your yetzer hara has become brazen in its freedom,” she teasingly scolded him. Now he was caressing her more intimate places, compelling her rising passion to match his, and any reservations Joheved had were soon overwhelmed by the intense pleasure his touch gave her.
This time he felt more in control as she mounted him, and he whispered, “Try to make me take longer this time, Cherie.” As much as he wanted to feast his eyes on her, he knew he had to resist that temptation unless the demon threatened him.
Joheved discovered, once she paid attention, that she could tell when Meir was reaching his peak. And if she ceased moving at that point, his ardor cooled sufficiently that they could continue a while longer. But eventually her own yetzer refused to let her stop until she reached the climax she’d been so long denied. And Meir found that, like before, it was impossible to control himself when he felt Joheved’s contractions convulsing around him.
Joheved fell back onto the bed and Meir snuggled up to her. Then, as he drifted off to sleep, he conjured up the memory of his wife’s naked body, not lifeless and bloodied, but beautiful, alive with passion and coupled with his.
When Marona peeked in Meir’s room later that morning, she was unprepared for the scene that greeted her. Her son and daughter-in-law lay sleeping together, her head on his chest and his arms intimately entwined around her. Marona keenly observed the crumpled chemises on the floor, the empty dishes piled carelessly nearby, and came to the conclusion that her son was well on
his way to recovery. She quietly backed away and closed the door.
As she stood in the hall, relief flooded through her and she began to sob, the anxiety of those terrible weeks dissolving in her tears. Rivka saw her weeping and rushed upstairs, fearing the worst. But when Marona showed her a glimpse inside, Rivka embraced her counterpart and shared her cries of happiness.
“You must tell me your son’s favorite dishes, so we can have them for Shabbat dinner.” Rivka picked up the pitcher and basin. “I guess I can put these away.”
The most mouth-watering smells were in the air when Meir woke up again. Joheved was sleeping next to him, and he reached out to caress her bare shoulders and back. A stirring in his loins convinced him that he hadn’t been dreaming; his virility had finally returned.
“Ahem.” A voice coughed discreetly and his hand immediately came to a stop. He quickly sat up and then sank down again in a wave of dizziness.
“If you sit up slowly, I’m sure it will be easier,” his mother said, smiling down at him.
“Bonjour, Mama.” Meir did as she said, his face crimson. This time his head remained clear.
Marona nonchalantly handed him his chemise, then arranged the cushions so he could sit up straight and asked, “Are you hungry?”
“I’m famished.” Meir had no idea how much time had passed since his last meal. “I’m so hungry I could eat a cow.”
“Well, you’re in luck. I believe that Rivka has stewed beef and onions especially for you.” Marona laid Joheved’s chemise on the bed and stood up. “I’ll get you some.”
Joheved, unable to sleep through their conversation, opened her eyes just in time to see Marona leaving. She quickly got up and dressed before her husband’s appreciative eyes. “I hear Papa downstairs,” she said, giving Meir a quick kiss. “Everyone must be back from services already. I have to go and help Mama get ready for the Sabbath.”
He grabbed her hand. “Stay and have disner with me.”
“I’d like to.” She really wished she could. “But your mother is leaving for Ramerupt after Shabbat, and I think she’d like to spend some time with you now that you’re feeling better. Don’t worry, Meir; I’ll be back tonight.” She blew him a kiss and made her way down the stairs, humming a merry tune.
That afternoon, Joheved volunteered to make the challah, the braided loaves traditionally eaten on Shabbat and festivals, and as she kneaded, she hummed the riddle song about the bride and her rising dough. When the loaves were ready for the baker’s oven, she pinched off a tiny piece and tossed it in the fire, to observe the law that required part of each challah be separated and given to the priests. Since the temple’s destruction, however, women fulfilled this mitzvah by burning the piece of dough instead.
“Baruch ata Adonai…Who commanded us to separate challah from the dough.” Joheved made the appropriate blessing.
She wrapped up the six loaves, two for each Shabbat meal, and set off for the bakery, a happy skip in her step. She would bring them home later, along with the other loaves their household would consume over the Sabbath. On impulse she decided to visit the bathhouse while the bread was baking.
Joheved returned home from the bakery to find a row of capons roasting in the hearth—they looked nearly done. She laid down the breads and looked around for something to do, but the table was already set and everything seemed in readiness. Had she stayed at the baths too long? At least the men weren’t back from synagogue yet.
“I’m sorry if I’m late, Mama.” She suddenly felt guilty for luxuriating in a hot tub while her family was working. “I stopped in at the ‘stews’ and lost track of the time.”
Miriam began to protest, but Rivka cut her off. “What a good idea. I’m sure a nice, warm bath was just what you needed.”
Just then Marona entered the kitchen. “If souper is ready, is it all right if Meir eats his now? He woke up from his nap early and is quite hungry.”
“I’ll take his tray up to him,” Joheved immediately volunteered. “That way you and Samuel can have a nice Shabbat supper together down here.” She hoped it wasn’t too obvious that she wanted to be alone with Meir.
“As a matter of fact, my son made the same request himself,” Marona said as she and Rivka exchanged knowing looks.
“I’ll fix up enough for both of you, so your poor husband doesn’t have to eat by himself.” Rivka smiled in anticipation of her daughter’s happiness. “Le Bon Dieu willing, maybe Meir will be well enough to join us down here next Shabbat.”
To say that Meir was happy to see his wife carrying in his meal would be an understatement. Since his last student had gone downstairs, it had been difficult to think about anything besides that morning’s events, and he’d barely managed to prepare the next day’s Talmud lesson. In the past, he would have firmly controlled any erotic thoughts that attempted to interfere with his studies, but tonight he needed reassurance that his yetzer was still unbound. Besides, it wasn’t as if this was a prelude to sin; it was Shabbat and his wife would be the recipient of his desire.
He tried to wait patiently while she put down the dishes, some of which were giving off plumes of delicious-smelling steam. His two appetites warred within him, but when Joheved bent down to kiss him hello, his yetzer hara took over, and he turned her gentle buss into a passionate embrace.
“I brought your food up right away because your mother said you were hungry,” she teased him.
He pulled her down on the bed and kissed her again, enjoying her full cooperation. “I am hungry…”
“…but not for food.” Joheved, extricating herself from his arms, stood up and, very slowly, began to undress.
Meir’s memories had already lit his yetzer’s fire, but watching Joheved take off her clothes turned it into an inferno. Any demons with designs on his virility never had a chance, and he proved that his earlier triumph was no accident.
Afterwards, he eagerly joined Joheved in the mealtime blessings. Now that one of his appetites was at least temporarily satisfied, he could turn his attention to the other. “Mm, capon, one of my favorite dishes.”
“Didn’t your mother say beef and onions was your favorite?” Joheved found herself enjoying how much he relished his food. This was going to be a truly joyous Shabbat, she could tell.
“Well, that’s another one.” He chuckled and scooped up some stewed vegetables with a large slice of bread. “When I’m hungry nearly every dish is my favorite food…except maybe lamb.”
“You don’t like lamb, even though your father raises sheep?” She couldn’t help but laugh too; his happiness was contagious.
“When you’ve eaten as much lamb as I have, you’ll find that you prefer almost anything else,” he replied. “Which reminds me, where are the little fried fishes? Did the Notzrim buy them all at the market today?” Small fish coated in flour and fried in olive oil were a traditional Shabbat evening dish, but since Christians were forbidden to eat meat on Friday, there was much competition to buy fish that day.
“Oh, they’re eating some downstairs.” Joheved had refused to take any for herself; it would be rude to eat something in front of Meir that he couldn’t. “Your mother said you should wait before eating fried foods again.”
“Very well, I’m content to eat capon tonight. After all, that’s what we ate at our betrothal.”
Joheved handed him one of the dessert pastries. “I didn’t know my talmid chacham had such a good memory for anything besides his studies.” She was both surprised and flattered that Meir remembered that afternoon so well. She doubted that she could have told him what had been on the menu.
“I recall that you were wearing a blue dress, the exact same color as your eyes.” Meir tilted up her chin so they were looking into each other’s eyes, and Joheved felt a surge of heat between her thighs at the intensity of his gaze. He ended their conversation with a kiss.
As the company below filled the air with the joyous sounds of Sabbath table songs, Meir proceeded to make his wife rejoice as they fulf
illed their obligation to perform the holy deed on Shabbat. Later, as he drifted off to sleep, Joheved already snoring softly in his arms, he decided that tonight had been even better than their wedding night.
The autumn leaves put on a brilliant show, but Meir didn’t get to see them. Being bedridden for over six weeks had taken its toll, and when he tried to stand up, his legs were as weak as a newborn lamb’s. It was weeks before he could get around on his own, and that required the help of Grandmama Leah’s old cane.
As the Cold Fair grew closer, Meir was determined to build up his strength so he could walk to synagogue and study with the mature scholars. But for now, he was housebound. He didn’t know if it was the result of his illness, but the weather seemed cooler than it ought to be in late October. Even bundled in furs, a short trip to the privy left him shivering.
Thus he found himself at home late one Friday afternoon while the rest of the household was at services. Rivka had delegated the Shabbat lamp lighting to Joheved, and Meir was finishing his own prayers when he noticed his wife kindling the flame. A wave of nostalgia washed over him as he realized that he hadn’t seen a woman lighting the Sabbath lamp since he was a little boy watching his mother. Once he was old enough, he accompanied his father to synagogue to welcome the Sabbath there, returning home to find the lamp already lit.
Watching Joheved, he fondly imagined the identical scene with a couple of small children at her side. Then his eyes widened in surprise. She was praying as she kindled the light, but he couldn’t make out the words. His mother hadn’t said anything, and he knew he’d never seen any such blessing in the Talmud. He forced himself to wait quietly until Joheved finished.
“Joheved,” he tried not to sound particularly curious, “what were you saying just now when you lit the Sabbath lamp?”
She tilted her head and squinted at him. “I was saying the blessing. What else would I be saying?”
