Apprentice (27 page)

Rami's face lit up when he saw us, and he rushed to share the good news. “A baby girl, Dodi, strong and healthy, delivered sometime after midnight.” He paused and added, “Achti is in good health as well.”

I wanted to hug him, but of course I couldn't, not on the road. “So Mother was there when the baby was born.”

His face clouded. “She was extremely grateful that I'd come to get her, but…but, I'm afraid that my mother was incensed by my impetuous behavior.”

“I suppose it would be upsetting to have all these people barge into her house in the middle of the night,” I said, displaying sympathy I did not feel.

He swallowed hard. “And now even more are coming.”

“Should I go home?” I asked, hoping he would disagree.

“You may as well go see your sister. Uh…the damage is done. Besides, I suppose women will be stopping by all day to see the new baby.”

Besides women from our household, there were several visitors who'd dropped by on their way to synagogue. Mother seemed unsurprised at my
appearance and, whispering that Achti was now awake, ushered me in to see her. I was taken aback to find Pushbi holding the sleeping baby instead of my sister. The child, so tightly swaddled that only the top of her head was visible, looked much like any other newborn. As far as my experience went, the only difference between babies at this age was whether they had hair or not. This one did not.

At first I thought it would be impossible to have a private conversation with Achti. Pushbi seemed glued to her seat, and a continuous stream of women ebbed and flowed through the room. But eventually Mother stifled a yawn and announced that they needed to get back home, and slowly the other women left for synagogue or the souk. I was the only one remaining when the baby woke with a piercing cry, forcing Pushbi to hurriedly relinquish her to Achti.

The infant knew where to find nourishment, and Achti sank back on the pillow with a look of contentment I'd never seen on her face before. Lulled by the soothing sound of the baby nursing, Pushbi's eyelids began to droop. Mine did too, but I was determined to stay awake. My hopes were fulfilled when Pushbi stood up, stretched, and told the nearest slave that she was going upstairs to rest and didn't want to be disturbed.

I waited a few moments to make sure she wasn't coming back, and then sat down next to the bed. Achti waited even longer before whispering, “If it weren't for your Rami, Mother wouldn't have been here in time. I don't know how to thank him.”

“When did you go into labor?” I made no effort to hide my suspicion.

She locked eyes with me. “At the midday meal my pains were so strong that I didn't want to eat anything.”

We said nothing more on the subject but we knew the truth. Pushbi could easily have sent word before sunset and had deliberately delayed in hopes that Achti would give birth without Mother in attendance.

“Was it very painful for you?”

“It's strange. I know that it was terribly painful at times, particularly near the end, but now I can't quite recall how bad it felt.” She gazed down at her new daughter in awe. “Isn't she beautiful?”

“If you say so.”

Achti giggled. “I must sound like every mother who's just given birth, thinking her baby is the sweetest child in all the world.”

“Do you want me to make her an amulet? I doubt you'll be able to hide it like the one for your pregnancy though.”

“I'll talk to Ukva about it, although I expect he'll want her to have one. After all, he's not studying Torah all the time like Father does.”

“If you want me to inscribe it without Pushbi knowing, just order one from Kimchit,” I said. “I write them at home for her now.”

There was a knock on the door and a slave entered, carrying a bowl of what smelled like chicken soup. Achti shifted the drowsy baby to her other breast and drank it down in one long gulp. I suddenly realized that I was hungry too, but I couldn't leave my sister and niece alone for fear of demons. Newborns and their mothers were especially vulnerable to liliths, who resented new human life so much that they waited like vultures for an opportunity to end it. I was pressing my hands against my stomach to keep it from growling when the door opened again, and this time the slave had bowls of soup for Achti and for me.

I visited Achti nearly every day the first week. Then, confident that all was well, Mother decided that it would be best if I went to see her on the two days that Father and his students attended court, and then returned home with him. It was on Second Day, a month later, when I heard the rain clattering on Pushbi's roof, a sound that both cheered and annoyed me.

Despite living between the mighty Tigris and Euphrates Rivers, with their many canals, Babylonians all feared drought. So much so that Jews prayed for rain three times a day during the rainy season between Sukkot in the fall and Pesach in the spring. And though the Persians objected to fasting as an affront to their benevolent god, our sages didn't hesitate to declare a communal fast if a drought lasted too long. In fact, there was an entire chapter of the Mishna, Taanit, which dealt with the laws concerning fasts.

So while everyone in Sura was happy and relieved when rain came, they preferred it at night when they wouldn't have to be outside in it. Ukva, who usually didn't come back from his fields until it was time to eat the midday meal, returned at least an hour early. Father and the students arrived soon after that, soggy as wet dogs, and were in no discernible hurry to leave.

Pushbi, understandably dismayed at the possibility of having to suddenly feed all these extra mouths, didn't dare insult Father. “Will you be dining with us?” she asked, managing to sound more gracious than she probably felt.

Father, recognizing that providing the main meal for this many growing
youths could be a hardship for a household that consisted of three adults and a few slaves, shook his head. “We'll just stay until there's a break in the storm.”

There was an awkward silence until Achti came out carrying the baby. “Father, I thought I heard your voice,” she said. “Would you like to hold Nanai while you're here?”

Father lifted the child with expert hands and examined her closely. Then he addressed Ukva: “You're a lucky man. I've always taught that a firstborn daughter is a good omen for sons who follow.” He smiled at Achti and me before adding, “I myself prefer daughters to sons.”

Every face turned to Father in surprise. How could a man who fathered six sons before a girl came along say such a thing? Surely everyone wanted their first child to be male, and many probably preferred no daughters at all.

My brother Nachman, however, was the only one willing to question him. “Why is that, Father?”

Instead of answering, Father smiled and asked the students to guess his reasons.

“My older sister helped raise me and my brother after our mother died,” Abba said. “So it was well for my father that he had a girl to begin with.”

Achti and I cringed at this, but Father nodded and waited for more responses.

Rami couldn't let Abba have the last word. “If a daughter is oldest, then the Evil Eye will not have power over the sons, since people normally envy those who have a boy first.”

“And because a firstborn son inherits twice as much as his brothers,” Ukva added, “having a daughter first prevents the younger sons from envying the eldest and thus provoking the Evil Eye against him.”

“You are both correct,” Father declared.

Pushbi beamed at his praise of Rami and Ukva, and I recalled that they had an older sister married to a rabbi in Pumbedita, the northernmost city on the Euphrates still considered part of Bavel. I had only met her once, at Achti and Ukva's wedding, as she rarely left home.

I was wondering if Yenuka had received the house and lands in Kafri for his inheritance, and whether my other brothers envied him for this, when I realized that it was no longer raining. Taking advantage of this lull in the storm, Father gave his newest granddaughter back to Achti and
urged those accompanying him to don their cloaks. Finding mine was simple; it was the only one still dry. But when we reached the villa, it was as wet as all the others.

When the skies cleared a week later, Mari suggested taking this opportunity to see how my land had fared during the recent rainstorms. I didn't know what to expect, and thus was relieved to see all the new flax shoots sprouting in my field. The section where flax had grown last year was now covered with golden wheat. When Mari and I returned, I was surprised to find Rami waiting outside. He did not seem happy to see me.

“Meet me…meet me in the garden as soon as you're done eating,” he whispered. He did not call me Dodi.

My first thought was that something had happened to Achti or the baby, but then I realized that he would not need to talk privately about such a thing. I ate as fast as I could, but he was faster.

I hurried to where he was pacing. “What's the matter?”

“How long until you're an adult?”

“Less than a year. I was born in the second year of the second king Bahram.” I waited while he continued pacing back and forth. What was so important to tell me, yet so difficult?

Rami turned to face me and sighed deeply. “If you want…to revoke our betrothal…after hearing what I'm going to say…well, I'll understand.”

Immediately my stomach tightened into a knot.

“My mother has disinherited me, Dodi.” His chin quivered as he fought back tears. “That is, she has gifted all her property to Ukva.”

I gulped in dismay before blurting out, “Why?” How could a mother disinherit her own son? What had Rami done to so offend her?

“She wouldn't say why.” He shook his head in disbelief. “All I can think of is my going to get your mother when Achti was having the baby.”

He looked so miserable that I was frantic for something to make him feel better. So I spoke without thinking. “I don't care if you have any property or not. I have plenty of my own land.” I added proudly, “From my grandfather.”

Rami's eyes widened and he gazed at me so fondly that I was sure he wanted to kiss me. I suddenly realized that I actually wanted to marry him, that though I now had a good reason to revoke our betrothal, I had
no intention of doing so. It wasn't just Father who had chosen Rami; I was choosing him myself, in spite of his horrid mother.

Then I recognized how I'd misspoken. While it was true that I had property, Grandfather had ensured that my husband couldn't use it. Now it was my turn to squirm while I considered how I'd share what Rami would have to deem bad news. I had to say something; I couldn't leave him with such a misleading impression.

“Rami,” I said gently. “About my land…”

“What about it, Dodi?”

“Grandfather made a vow that my husband couldn't derive any benefit from it. Achti's land is restricted the same way.”

He stood paralyzed in thought for what seemed like forever. “When Mother learns about this,” he said slowly, “she's going to be even angrier than she is at me.”

“But it doesn't matter,” I said. “Our children will inherit my property exactly the same way as if it were yours.”

“Unless you too decide to favor one over the others with gifts before you die.”

I almost said that I would never be as mean as Pushbi but stopped just in time. “You could do the same thing.”

Surprisingly, he grinned, exposing those perfect white teeth. “Look at us, Dodi, quarreling over money and we're not even wed.” Then his expression grew serious. “The laws governing a married woman's property are complicated. I'm going to ask your father to explain them.”

“I want to be there when he does.”

Before I went to help Rahel with another
kasa d'charasha
, I stood for a while in the garden, admiring how many more tulips and buttercups were blooming this year. Rami's smile continued to warm my heart, and I could still hear him calling me Dodi. I didn't want to spoil the feeling by thinking about his mother.

Father addressed the subject the very next day. “It has come to my attention that we need to review the laws of marital property, particularly in regard to what the wife brings to the marriage,” he said. “Most of these are addressed in Tractate Ketubot, and I would like to start with a Mishna at the beginning of the sixth chapter.”

In theory, all his students should be familiar with this, but Father quoted it anyway. “Everything found by a wife, and anything she earns,
these belong to her husband,” he began. “In addition, anything she inherits, her husband has usufruct during her lifetime.”

“What's usufruct?” Keshisha asked.

Mari rolled his eyes at our youngest brother's ignorance. “Usufruct is the legal right to use and profit from another's property, as long as the property is not damaged.”

Before Father could continue, Nachman interrupted. “But I learned a Baraita in which Rabbi Akiva says a wife's extra earnings are hers, while the Sages hold that they belong to her husband.”

Several students asked what constitutes extra earnings, and Father held up his hand. “The Mishna specifies what income a wife must earn for her husband, in return for him maintaining her, ransoming her, and burying her,” he explained. “Rabbi Akiva and the Sages are disputing what happens to any amount above that minimum.”

“What is the law?” Abba asked. “Does she keep it or not?”

“Rabbi Akiva and the Sages each maintain their own opinion,” Father replied. “Thus the couple's marriage contract may stipulate that the wife keeps her surplus income.”

I sat up straight to pay better attention. My amulets and silk ribbons would surely bring me extra income.

Rami now had his chance to ask a question. “What happens to property she acquired before marriage?”

“This is her
melog
property,” Father replied. “After she marries, her husband controls it and receives usufruct of it. But he does not inherit it, as he does any property she receives after they're married. Her children do.”