Apprentice (44 page)

When Rami nodded, I asked what Abba said to Nachman.

“Today we began the Mishna about the rebellious wife from the fifth chapter of Tractate Ketubot.” He leaned over to kiss me. “A problem I'll never have.”

I snuggled in his arms. A rebellious wife was specifically one who refused to cohabit with her husband. “Maybe that's Abba's problem, why his wife doesn't get pregnant.”

“I don't think so. A while ago, when we were discussing the difference between good wives and bad ones, Abba quoted Torah that a bad wife is a woman more bitter than death, and that even worse is a bad wife whose
ketuba
is exorbitant.”

“So as badly as Abba might want to divorce Choran, he can't afford to.” I didn't know who to pity more, Abba or his wife.

“I can't afford to divorce you either, Dodi.” Rami gazed at me lovingly. “Which is perfectly fine with me.”

I playfully nudged him with my elbow. “What about Nachman?”

“First your father taught us a Baraita in which Rabbi Yehuda states that they announce the rebellious wife's behavior in public on four successive Shabbats, warning that her
ketuba
will be forfeit if she persists,” Rami said. “Then I clarified that they only announce this in synagogues and study halls.”

“I understand, continue.” Obviously Choran wasn't a rebellious wife. Otherwise she wouldn't have a high
ketuba
anymore. Maybe the problem was that Abba was a rebellious husband, which would have increased her
ketuba
.

Rami clasped his hands together under his head and gazed up at the ceiling. “To my surprise, Abba supported me by saying that this can be inferred from the phrase ‘four successive Shabbats,' because synagogues and study halls are the only places where people gather so regularly on Shabbat.”

I wasn't sure this counted as support, but I said nothing.

“When I said that the court sends a warning to the wife both before the announcement and afterward,” Rami said, “Nachman declared that
the law follows this Baraita, where her
ketuba
is forfeit, rather than our Mishna, where the amount is only decreased seven dinars.”

“What did Abba say?” This had to be when he insulted my brother.

“That it was a stupid thing to say.”

I punched my pillow to plump it up. “How dare he call my brother's words stupid?”

Rami chuckled. “Don't worry. Rabbah bar Huna demanded to know what was so stupid about it, and before Abba could reply, Rabbah declared that he himself had taught this ruling, which he learned from Rabbi Yose bar Chanina, to Nachman.”

“I wonder why he suddenly wanted to shame Nachman.” As soon as I spoke I knew the answer. Shayla had recently given birth to a daughter, my brother's sixth child.

Rami understood too. “I expect that your family's fecundity is like salt in Abba's wound.”

“I suppose he'll try to shame Mari next.” Rahel would be having her baby in the spring.

“Nobody dares to shame your brother Mari,” Rami said. “Not when Elijah visits his dreams.”

“If babies bother Abba so much, he should study with another teacher.” Rami might have sympathy for Abba, but I had none.

Rahel's pregnancy was just beginning to show when we arrived at Father's to spend Hanukah week with our family. Achti and I were relieved to avoid the anxiety that accompanied hiding our lit menorah from the Magi who patrolled the streets of central Sura during the festival. The Persians no longer exhumed our dead, but they still objected to our profaning fire, their most holy element, with Jewish ceremonies.

Achti was hesitant at first, worried how Father would react to Yehezkel's presence, but I convinced her that Father needed to meet the boy eventually. Keshisha would be celebrating Hanukah in Kafri, so this was as good a time as any. Achti needn't have worried. Father gave no more notice to Yehezkel than he did to his other small grandsons. They only drew his attention once they were old enough to study Torah.

I had no sooner come downstairs after unpacking our things than Rahel approached me. “I need your assistance, Dada.”

“I'll help you any way I can.”

She smiled wanly. “You may not feel that way after you hear what I want.”

“I am in your debt for everything you've taught me,” I said firmly. “Of course I will help you.”

Rahel sighed. “Soon I won't be able to install any more bowls. If the Chaldean astrologers are correct that I'm carrying a girl, then after the birth it will be at least another three months before I can return to my profession.”

The sun went behind a cloud, and I shivered as she continued, “I have too many women who can't, or won't, wait that long. Particularly the pregnant ones.”

“You want me to install the bowls for you,” I whispered. Otherwise her customers would go to another
charasheta
.

“I have every confidence that you can do it, and my clients will too.” Rahel took hold of my hands and squeezed them. “You not only conceived your son right away but you delivered him safely in the shortest time I've ever seen for a first baby. It is undeniable that the angels favor you.”

“But I've never done an installation.” Somehow I knew that there would be no practicing in advance.

“You've seen me do it many times,” Rahel assured me. “And there's a first time for every
charasheta
.”

Slowly excitement began to overcome my apprehension. Installing my own bowls was the next step toward becoming a real
charasheta
. This was what I'd been training for.

“When shall I begin?”

FIRST YEAR OF KING NARSEH'S REIGN

•     294
CE
     •

I
was astonished by Rami's reaction when I told him that I would be installing my first
kasa d'charasha
the following morning.

“That's wonderful, Dodi. I'd like to come and watch.”

“Please don't,” I blurted out. When his face fell, I quickly added, “I'll be nervous enough with just the clients there.”

“Let me know when you'll be doing another one, then.”

I couldn't imagine feeling so complacent that I'd want my husband to watch—at least not anytime soon. That night I had trouble sleeping, and when I did sleep, I had nightmares about losing my voice or mixing up the demons or failing to adjure the proper angels, only to have an army of demons descend on me.

That morning I woke with a start and barely had time to use the privy before Rahel's slaves arrived with the bowls, shovels, and white linen outfit. Thankfully, I didn't need to nurse Chama in the morning anymore. He was almost completely weaned, nursing at bedtime for comfort instead of sustenance. Zahra had weaned Yehezkel six months ago, and Chama was eager to eat everything his cousin did. How I loved his chubby cheeks and legs, proof of his good health.

It was just as well that I was supposed to fast, as my anxiety would not have allowed me to eat anyway.

We walked to the client's home in silence. The couple was waiting for us at the gate to the communal courtyard where they had their home. The
husband nervously introduced me to his very pregnant wife, Nuri, and to his mother-in-law, Giloi, who supported a toddler on her hip. I could sense the liliths threatening Nuri, who looked as if she'd give birth any day. The professional calm I'd so carefully nurtured evaporated when I saw the crowd of people milling around the courtyard, eager to observe the proceedings.

I made my decision on the spot, and had the slaves tell everyone to stay indoors “because of the danger.” The alacrity with which my instructions were obeyed boosted my confidence considerably, although I realized that most would still be watching me through their not-quite-closed doors and windows.

We went inside, where Giloi showed me the lying-in chamber. The slaves, who'd accompanied Rahel on countless installations, set to digging the appropriate holes. As each pit was finished, I turned the corresponding bowl upside down, laid it at the bottom, and covered it with dirt, all while trying to keep my hands from shaking. After the final hole was filled, one slave held out the white linen robe for me to wear and the other helped me with the veil.

As I'd seen Rahel do before, I stood tall and lifted my arms to the heavens. My eyes closed, I prayed for fortitude, and also that the Merciful One would hear and grant my request. I could feel my skin tingling, and when I looked down, the slaves were huddled at my feet and I knew the time had come.

I began with the introduction I usually wrote on bowls concerning pregnancy.
“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, may the salvation of Heaven belong to the dwelling of the woman Nuri bat Giloi.”

I could scarcely believe the vigor and command my voice suddenly possessed. It was coming from both within me and outside me; I was both contents and vessel. Louder than I'd ever spoken before, I continued with quotes from scripture.

“Cause all kinds of shaydim to flee from her, as well as liliths, evil ruchim, and all kinds of pain so that she should be healthy and preserved. Let her not be like the young woman who travails but does not give birth, but rather she will be as a crown of fresh myrtle, a happy mother of sons.”

Exulting in my newfound dominance, I could sense the cowed demons starting to flee before me and the angels I'd summoned. A breeze whipped my white robe around my ankles as I strengthened the spell by calling on our Matriarchs' protection. These particular women were named because the first letters of their names spelled out
barzel
, the Hebrew word for iron, which was particularly effective against demons that attacked women during childbirth.

“I further adjure you, all kinds of liliths and evil
ruchim
that enter the entrails of women and spoil their offspring, in the name of Michael your master and Ashmedai your king, to move, go, flee, and keep away from this woman Nuri bat Giloi and from her child. If you transgress against my adjuration, I shall strike you with iron rods that are the four holy mothers: Bilha, Rahel, Zilpa, Leah.”

I could feel my spirit fading as the incantation drew to a close. Yet my voice did not weaken as I concluded,
“Amen. Amen. Selah. Salvation and peace from Heaven forever and ever.”

The slaves praised my performance as they helped me out of the white robe and veil. The couple was gazing at me with awe and kept at a respectful distance as they led me to the place of honor at a large dining table. Slowly and cautiously, people exited their homes to join us for the midday meal.

I had done it; I had actually done it myself. Suddenly I was ravenous.

Two weeks later, when Rahel congratulated me on the birth of Nuri's healthy son, I felt more relief than joy. I had hoped that after my initial success I would no longer feel such trepidation when the next time came. But though each succeeding installation intimidated me less, I was still filled with apprehension when it came time to pronounce the incantation. I even felt nervous admitting my fears to Rami.

“That's impossible,” he replied proudly. “You were so formidable. I was awestruck. I could hardly believe you were the same woman who shares my bed at night.”

“What?” I cried out. “I thought I told you not to watch.”

He grinned slyly. “You only told me not to watch you the first time, Dodi.”

“When were you there? Why didn't I see you?”

“I followed you last week, and I deliberately stayed out of sight.”

“You thought I was formidable?”

He nodded vigorously. “Your transformation was incredible.”

I stepped forward to hug him, and then stopped as I felt dampness between my legs. I backed away and quickly brought my hand down to check. My fingers came away red with blood. I'd been expecting this for a while, but it was still a surprise to find myself
niddah
.

Rami stepped back as well and then flashed me a delighted smile. “Good. Now we can have another child.”

Rami was right. I only went to the
mikvah
once, after my bleeding stopped. And when six weeks then passed without my becoming
niddah
again, I was sure I was pregnant. This time there could be no subterfuge, as it was too cold to swim in the pond without possibly harming the fetus. Rahel was particularly pleased, as it meant I could continue to install
kasa d'charasha
uninterrupted until she was ready to resume her vocation.

That meant I came to the villa at least weekly to write the bowls, and though I tried to avoid Abba when he returned after Pesach, it was impossible to elude him entirely, especially when everyone ate the midday meal together. Yet when our paths crossed, he kept the conversation polite and brief. Surely word of my pregnancy would reach him soon, and I steeled myself for his renewed attacks on Rami.