Apprentice (37 page)

Mother was sympathetic when I explained my dilemma. “Shayla and I won't say anything, but you'd better have a good excuse for not sharing this news with your sister.”

Shayla disagreed. “Dada is not obligated to tell anyone, not even her husband. Those with a discerning eye will find out earlier and others later.”

“I'll wait and judge her mood after Zahra's baby is born,” I said when we reached the courtyard gate. Hopefully an opportune moment would present itself.

Mother and Shayla disappeared into the lying-in chamber, giving firm instructions that I was not to enter until the baby was born. I marveled that two such prominent women were helping my slave give birth, although perhaps it was because, slave or not, the baby was Mother's grandchild.

Not long after, Mother came out. “Zahra's womb has barely started to open,” she told us. “You may as well all go about your normal occupations. I will return to the villa with Rami, and Shayla can send a slave for me when necessary.”

There was nothing else to do but break our fast, so the slaves brought out fresh bread and porridge, serving some to Ukva, Rami, and me, and then taking the rest behind the closed door where Zahra lay. Soon I was alone. Either Zahra's labor hadn't progressed to a painful point or as a slave she had learned to keep her pain hidden. In any case I could hear nothing from her chamber. So when I saw a neighbor leaving for synagogue, I went with her.

When we returned a few hours later, all was quiet and the door still closed. A slave told me that the baby was coming so slowly that Achti had gone shopping for food, and I had the impression that my informant suspected Zahra of feigning labor in order to shirk her responsibilities.

At the midday meal, Shayla assured us that Zahra's labor was real, but that first births often take a long time. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I saw anxiety in her eyes. When we were done eating, Achti sat with Zahra while Shayla went upstairs to rest. The fifteenth of the month was not an auspicious day for writing amulets, so I took out the small loom I used for weaving silk ribbons.

I'd no sooner sat down than Pushbi's maidservant approached me. “The mistress saw Shayla on the landing and wants to know what she's doing here?”

Despite my trepidation, I had no choice but to satisfy my mother-in-law's curiosity. But instead of dismissing me when I told her Zahra was in labor, Pushbi pointed to the bench near her bed and indicated I should sit down.

“Your breasts are larger and you walk like a pregnant woman,” she accused me. “Are you with child?”

I was so astonished by her direct question that all I could do was nod.

“I knew it.” Pushbi chortled for a moment, undeniably pleased with herself, and then asked, “When are you due?”

“Around Purim, I think.”

“So you've only immersed once since the wedding?”

I nodded again, this time impressed with her sharpness.

Pushbi locked eyes with mine. “If your sister hasn't conceived by the winter
tekufa
, I want you to move to your father's house and stay there until you give birth.”

“But why?” I had no objection to her command and would, in fact, be happy to obey it. Yet I needed to know the reason.

“My family has been cursed, likely from envy over the good matches I've made for my sons,” she replied bitterly. “First little Nanai's death, then my illness, and finally Achti's miscarriage and resulting failure to conceive. These can only be the work of a powerful
kashafa
.”

“Are you certain? Maybe all this envy has provoked the Evil Eye against you.” Heaven forbid that Pushbi should figure out who had cursed her.

Her eyes narrowed. “Believe me, I know witchcraft when I encounter it.”

My throat constricted at Pushbi's certainty, but I had the presence of mind to respond innocently: “Maybe you could have Rahel install some
kasa d'charasha
for protection.”

Plainly she thought me naive. “Your sister-in-law is a novice compared to the
kashafa
who did this,” Pushbi said with disdain.

It took all my control to hide my relief at not being a suspect. “Then how will I be safe in my father's house?”

“Listen to me,” she said. “Chama's family, like your father's, descends from priests who served in the Holy Temple and were taught all sorts of secret priestly magic. When Jerusalem was destroyed, they brought that knowledge with them to Bavel.”

“But…,” I began.

Pushbi held up her hand to prevent further questions. “Chama's father died when he was young, and Chama never got to learn the priestly traditions. He wanted our sons to be rabbis, so he had them study Torah instead,” she explained. “Your family's fortune and fecundity prove that your father has mastered both subjects.”

“I always thought his great piety protected us,” I said slowly, my mind whirling to take in what I'd heard.

Grandfather had told me that priests had practiced magic in the Temple—magic that some priests, including Father, still knew. Had he taught it to any of my brothers? More important, could I persuade him to teach me or was such knowledge forbidden to women?

Mother returned to check on Zahra that evening and sent Shayla back to the villa. The following morning, Rami walked Mother home and returned that afternoon with Shayla. I knew none of my sisters-in-law had taken over two days to give birth, but nobody would tell me anything. I could see the fear in Achti's eyes at the evening meal, and when I went to bed that night, I prepared myself to learn of Zahra's death when I awoke.

But instead there was Mother breaking her fast with Ukva as Achti cuddled a newborn in her arms. It took several days for the baby to learn how to suckle properly, but eight days after his birth, less than a week before Rosh Hashana, Zahra's son was circumcised and named Yehezkel, after the prophet. But he was not freed. Keshisha's son would remain a slave and Zahra's duties now included being a wet nurse.

Achti was so happy with the new baby that I found the courage to tell her that I was expecting a child in Adar. To my great surprise, I learned that my trepidation had been misplaced. My sister was not only thrilled with the news but she confided that if all went well she too would deliver a child in the coming year. I was so pleased to hear that all my worry had been for nothing that I hugged her so hard she laughingly complained I was hurting her.

As Sukkot drew to a close and the beer brewing commenced, Father interrupted our Shabbat afternoon meal to announce that he and Mother would be traveling to Machoza for Abba bar Joseph's wedding.

My first reaction was to thank Heaven that Abba would now be so occupied with his own wife that he'd finally stop harassing Rami. Then,
strangely, I recalled the day I told Father I wanted to marry both of them and Abba had said he'd be the last. Now hopefully everyone would agree that what I said had no significance. My thoughts were interrupted by the realization that Father was asking a question.

“Which of my students will accompany us?”

“I will,” my brother Tachlifa said immediately. “We can stay with Pazi's family there.”

“I heard that Abaye will be there,” Rabbah bar Huna replied. “So I'll go too.”

“I suppose it would be rude for me to decline if the other students are going,” Rami said to Father, who did not try to dissuade him.

My brothers Nachman and Mari exchanged worried looks. If both of them attended the wedding, only Hanan and Pinchas would be left to continue processing the date beer.

Father threw his arm around Mari. “Your wife can come and see her relatives in Machoza,” he said. “In fact, you and Nachman should both come. Hanan can find some men to take your place at the vats.”

Hanan nodded glumly. As the oldest brewer among my brothers, he would naturally be in charge if Father were away. “At least the date crushing is complete,” he said.

Nachman gave Mari an elated punch on the arm. “Who wouldn't prefer a wedding over stirring fermenting dates all day?”

I spoke without thinking anything except how nice it would be to see Machoza with Rami. “May other wives come along?”

“Of course,” Father boomed. “It's a wedding.”

“You cannot go,” Mother whispered. “Not in your condition.”

Pazi quietly added, “Considering your previous difficulties with Abba, appearing at his wedding might provoke the Evil Eye.”

Rami sighed with resignation. “How long will I be gone?”

“At least two weeks,” Father replied.

Rami's face fell. Not only would he and I be separated for the first time since our wedding, but the other students would have their wives with them.

If Rami's absence weren't bad enough, Grandfather's health deteriorated so severely that Mother declined to go to Machoza. To make matters worse, the fanatic high priest Kartir had ordered his Magi to exhume recently buried Jewish corpses. Normally nobody plans a funeral until
after the death, but it was clear that Grandfather couldn't have a normal funeral if the Magi were digging up Jewish cemeteries.

“Explain to me again why the Magi do this?” I asked Zahra.

“You know about corpse impurity?” She tried unsuccessfully to hide the impatience in her voice.

I nodded. “Jews avoid corpse impurity too, especially priestly families.”

Zahra sighed. “Persians believe that the earth is one of Ahura Mazda's holy creations, one that must not be polluted. That's why their privies are lined with stone, so excrement never touches the earth. And dead flesh is much more polluting than excrement, even more than menstrual blood.”

“Corpse impurity is the most severe kind mentioned in the Torah,” I said.

“Dead flesh is not exactly the same as a corpse.”

“Of course it is.” I was growing impatient too.

“No,” Zahra insisted. “Once the flesh is gone, the bones are pure and can be buried. That's why Persian dead are placed on stones, in a desolate area with many birds of prey and carnivorous beasts, until only the bones remain.”

I was utterly aghast. Grandfather was going to die soon, so soon that he'd already made his deathbed bequests and farewells. If we didn't do something, some Magus would exhume his body and take it away for wild animals to devour. But what could we do? Bahram might be the Persian king, but he was ruled by his high priest—instead of the other way around.

I
was devastated when a solemn Timonus arrived at our home first thing in the morning a few days later.

“It was a good death,” he declared, as he handed me Grandfather's Mishna codex. “The angel Samael took him without a struggle as he slept.”

Achti sighed. “To think that Grandfather Hanan almost lived long enough to see his great-granddaughter married.”

I thought I'd accepted that Grandfather's death was imminent, and would therefore grieve less when it came. But I felt hollow inside and knew I'd start bawling if I tried to speak. Never again would I hear his husky voice or feel his gentle hugs. Never again would I have someone who so patiently answered my questions, no matter how trivial.

On our way to the villa, Timonus had us turn onto a different street than usual. “I want to pass the cemetery and see if the Magi are still there.”

“What?” Achti exclaimed. “I thought Father and Rav Huna complained to the exilarch.”

“And received the answer that his hands are tied when it comes to controlling the Magi.” Timonus shook his head in acquiescence. “Kartir is too powerful.”

I followed Timonus with dread, praying that somehow Elohim had intervened to halt this horrific desecration of Jewish graves. But when we
approached the cemetery, the sound of loud male voices accompanied by the stench of death wafting on a drifting breeze made it clear that He had not. I fought to control my nausea.

“You stay here,” Timonus cautioned us. “I'll see what's happening.”

“No,” Achti screeched. “I must see Nanai's grave.” Her face grew rigid with anger. “If they've touched my child…” She left the threat unsaid.

Timonus knew he couldn't stop her, so he turned to me. “This is no place for a woman in your condition.”

I couldn't have agreed more. “I'll go back to the crossroad.” I didn't care that I was alone. I had to get away from that smell.

Thank Heaven my wait wasn't long. Achti arrived first, and promptly vomited. I looked at her anxiously.

“Nanai's grave is undisturbed,” she answered my unspoken query. “They only want recent burials.”

Timonus wasn't far behind her. “Your mother won't like it, and my master will like it less, since he, his sons, and grandsons are priests,” he said slowly. “Yet I see no alternative to burying Hanan somewhere on the villa's property, where the Magi won't know about it.”

It was a relief to leave the cemetery, and a greater relief to arrive home and learn that Grandfather's body was already wrapped in its shroud, prepared for burial—a burial that Jewish tradition said should happen within twenty-four hours.