Apprentice (11 page)

“You will practice on these first, using any quill you like. They're cheap vessels, not for any particular client, so it doesn't matter if you make mistakes.”

I nodded and picked up a quill at random, doubtful that the brisk and efficient Rahel would be a patient teacher. Thankfully, I'd be working outside where the light was good.

“This is a short incantation to begin with, using your sister as an example so the names are familiar to you,” Rahel said. “Most will be longer, some much longer. Listen carefully and then repeat it back to me.”

I startled at the word “incantation.” I'd assumed that I'd be writing poetry or perhaps some verses from Torah. But I didn't dare ask for an explanation. I just hoped that Rahel would talk slower when she got to the text itself.

“Sealed and doubly sealed are the house and threshold of Achti bat Haviva from all foul plagues, from all evil spirits, from monsters, from liliths, and from all demons and harmers,” Rahel said slowly and distinctly. “So they will not come near to her, to her house, and to the threshold of Achti bat Haviva, who is sealed with the three signet rings and doubly sealed with the seven seals from all foul plagues and from all evil spirits and from all species of liliths and from all demons. Amen and Amen. Selah.”

Relieved that the words weren't too difficult, I repeated them back to Rahel with only a few stumbles, which she gently corrected. She had me repeat it twice more. Then, satisfied that I didn't need a wax tablet, she
urged me to look at a bowl carefully and plan how I would make all the words fit inside.

I ran out of room in the first bowl, and the second one had too much empty space left when I finished. When I proudly managed to make the words fit to Rahel's satisfaction in the fourth bowl, she gave me another protective incantation, similar to the first but slightly longer, and told me I should practice for the rest of the day, writing the two versions on different-size vessels. She had to leave to install the bowl that she'd showed me earlier. She would check my work when she returned.

As I wrote one incantation and then another, my mind whirled with the import of what I was doing. I now understood why all those women came to visit Rahel, why her pottery was so popular. These vessels weren't regular soup or serving bowls, they were
kasa d'charasha
, enchanted bowls, which meant Rahel was an enchantress, a
charasheta
, maybe even a
kashafa
.

But how could that be? I remembered Grandfather's words: “The Torah says we do not allow a
kashafa
to live.” Yet Rahel was living right in our house. She was married to my brother Mari, who was so pious that the prophet Elijah visited his dreams.

I stopped writing and gazed around the garden, hoping its peacefulness would soothe me. Rahel couldn't be a
kashafa
.
Kashafot
were wicked. They cast evil spells, while hers were for protection from demons and other foul spirits. Why, one of her incantations was against evil spells and harmers, in other words, against
kashafot
. Besides, Mother knew about Rahel's
kasa d'charasha
and she would never have let my brother marry a
kashafa
. Maybe my brother and Father didn't know though.

No matter how much I wanted to convince myself that there was nothing wrong with being Rahel's temporary assistant, deep inside I was afraid.

A week later, the fermentation had slowed in the brewing troughs. It was time to draw off the first batch of beer and add more water to the remaining date mush. Father's tradition was that nobody tasted the new beer until the final batch was in its jars, at which time we sampled them all. This year my family was especially anxious. Though our income for the coming year depended on it, we had no inkling of how much beer, and of what quality, these dates would produce before their fermentation finally ran out.

I had my own reasons for anxiety. I had sprouted two pubic hairs, the first sign of my impending womanhood. Mother told me that negotiations
with Rami's mother and brother were complete, and that my betrothal ceremony would take place after Rahel's hand was healed. In addition, little more than a week after Rahel burned her hand, she had me inscribing bowls for real clients instead of just for practice.

Two weeks later, jars labeled “aleph” and “bet” held the first two batches of date beer, and the third fermentation was bubbling strongly. But instead of looking forward to the end of my work with Rahel, I found myself dreading the day when her hand healed and I would be dismissed, leaving me with a skill I'd struggled to learn but could no longer practice. It seemed especially unfair that after inscribing all these vessels, I would never see what Rahel did with them.

When Shayla examined Rahel's hand and told her the bandage could come off for Shabbat, I became desperate.

I waited until Rahel praised me for my most recent project, bowls inscribed with an incantation to protect a pregnant woman. “Rahel, I know you won't need my help starting next week.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “While I was merely doing my duty and don't deserve a reward, I beg you to grant me one request.”

Rahel looked at me in surprise. “What reward do you want? A special bowl for your betrothal?”

“I want to go with you when you do whatever it is you do with the bowls,” I blurted out. “I want to see them in use.”

She chuckled softly, an inscrutable expression on her face. “I will gladly grant you that. You may accompany me tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, thank you.” I gave her a fierce hug.

“I want to warn you about something first.” Rahel must have seen the worry in my eyes because she promptly added, “Not about the incantation, but about afterward, when we take our midday meal with the clients.”

“I'll eat whatever you do, no matter how bad it tastes.”

Rahel smiled at my interruption. “Ronai's family are Jews, as are many of my clients, but they're
am-ha'aretz
.”

“
Am-ha'aretz?
” The Hebrew words meant “people of the land,” but the way she said them made them seem derogatory. “You mean they're farmers?” I asked in confusion.

“The
am-ha'aretz
are Jews who don't follow how the Rabbis interpret Torah.” Rahel's tone made her disapproval plain. “So they probably won't wash their hands before they eat, nor say any blessings over the food and wine, and they might serve both meat and cheese at the same meal.”

“The meat will be kosher, won't it?”

“Oh yes, but you'll need to say your own blessings, which you must do quietly and tactfully.”

“Why do you write
kasa d'charasha
for the
am-ha'aretz
if you don't like them?”

“The majority of Jews in Sura are
am-ha'aretz
, maybe as many as nine out of ten,” she replied. “If I limited my bowls to rabbinic families, I'd have very few clients.”

I was awake before dawn and could barely keep still as Achti's maidservant braided my hair with ribbons and dressed me in my striped Shabbat tunic and trousers. I was disappointed to find Rahel wearing plain linen clothes and no jewelry at all. Outside the gate, we mounted a waiting donkey. Then, along with two slaves to carry the bowls, we set off toward town. I could scarcely contain my glee. I was not only going to see Rahel do her enchantments, but this was my first trip to Sura.

We didn't get to see much of Sura, as Rahel's client lived on the outskirts of the city. The house itself was located on a courtyard, much like our previous home in Kafri. Though Rahel had said that some of her clients weren't Jewish, it was a relief to see the mezuzah on the doorpost. Ronai and her husband, a wheelwright, were both there, but I saw no sign of children. Their table was covered with a large amount of food, which Rahel declined, explaining that she would be fasting until after the bowls were installed.

When Rahel introduced me as her apprentice, it took all the restraint I could muster not to hug her in gratitude, but I managed to maintain a suitably serious expression as we circled the house's periphery. Once Rahel questioned Ronai about where the family slept, she directed her slaves to dig shallow holes outside that room and at the home's threshold, one for each of the bowls I'd written on.

“From this point on, there must be absolute silence until the bowls are completely buried,” Rahel admonished us.

Ronai, her husband, and I nodded nervously. Rahel carefully placed each bowl upside down in its designated spot and covered it with earth. Then we returned to the threshold, where a slave helped Rahel don a white linen robe and veil. Most so-called white linen is actually pale beige, but Rahel's outfit was dazzling in its pure whiteness.

That was merely the beginning of her incredible transformation. Rahel
might be tall for a woman, but as she girdled her robe and stood up straight, she seemed to tower over the rest of us, even the men. Her slaves sank to the ground as she raised her arms and addressed the unseen world in a voice that resonated with power and authority.

“By the name of Shaddai Savaot Adonai, and by the power of the seven angels who are appointed over the seven days of the week: Michael, Gabriel, Samael, Raphael, Zadkiel, Anael, and Kafziel. That you should stand with all your might, power, and strength to withstand all those who damage and pain and inflict illness on the woman Ronai bat Maidukh.”

Ronai and her husband fell to their knees as Rahel continued,
“Cause all kinds of demons to flee from her, as well as liliths,
ruchim
, all kinds of fear, trembling, weakness of heart, and all kinds of pain so that she should be healthy and preserved and that she should not miscarry her fetus.”

This was not a prayer; this was a command that even angels and demons must obey. The world was unnaturally quiet—no dog barked, no bird sang, no donkey brayed. Despite my trembling, I couldn't tear my eyes away from her.

“I further adjure you, all kinds of liliths and
ruchim
that enter the entrails of women and spoil their offspring, in the name of Michael your master and Ashmedai your king, that you should move, go, flee, and keep away from this woman Ronai bat Maidukh and that you should not ever again come near to her. If you transgress against this, my adjuration, I shall strike you with iron rods that are the four holy mothers: Bilha, Rahel, Zilpa, Leah. Amen. Amen. Selah.”

In the silence that followed, Rahel slowly lowered her arms and took off her white clothes. Her slaves helped the awestruck couple to their feet, and in a completely normal voice Rahel said, “If you please, I will break my fast now.”

Rahel and the slaves ate with gusto, but I could have been eating date pits. All I could think was that I wanted to be a
charasheta
just like Rahel.

TWELFTH YEAR OF KING BAHRAM II'S REIGN

•     285
CE
     •

I
was thankful that Rahel felt no need for conversation on our way home, for my mind was fully occupied in planning my future. Clearly my best, perhaps only, means of becoming a
charasheta
was to continue as Rahel's apprentice. But had Rahel actually intended for me to be her apprentice or had she merely introduced me that way to explain my presence?

Next week I would be betrothed, and judging by Achti's experience, I would soon be learning how to manage a scholar's household. It wouldn't matter whether Rahel accepted me as her apprentice if Mother thought it would interfere with my domestic studies. And what about helping Grandfather remember his Mishna? I didn't want to give that up.

My path was clear. First talk to Rahel, and if that went well, then talk to Mother. Or maybe have Rahel talk to Mother? In any case I needed to start soon, maybe even tomorrow.

But I was too impatient. When Rahel gave me a new bowl and incantation that afternoon in the garden, I said a quick prayer for a successful enterprise and approached her. But my words weren't the ones I'd carefully planned.

“Rahel, did you mean it about me being your apprentice?”

She hesitated, perhaps because she'd forgotten what she'd said earlier. “I suppose you are my apprentice.” Then she gazed at me intently. “Why do you ask?”

The way she was examining me, I had to tell her the truth. “I don't
want to stop helping you with your
kasa d'charasha
. I want to be your apprentice and learn more about them.” Somehow I managed to not disclose my ultimate goal.

Rahel was silent for a long time, so long that I was sure she was searching for a way to reject me without hurting my feelings.

“I've never considered training an apprentice, at least not until I had a daughter old enough. But you have been useful, and it would be good to have help after this baby is born.” She patted the telltale bulge under her tunic, and I felt stupid for not noticing it earlier.