Apprentice (52 page)

“I was only gone a few months,” I wailed. “Couldn't Father have waited until I returned?”

“Abba bar Joseph is by far the finest student your father has ever encountered. There is no question that he will one day be Bavel's head rabbi. It seemed an excellent match.”

“But Abba is already married.”

Mother waved her hand as if shooing away a fly. “Of course he would have to divorce her first.”

“I wouldn't marry the arrogant peacock even if he had no other wives. I detest him.”

“If you are so adamant, you should talk to your father as soon as possible.” She sighed deeply. “But don't be angry. He just wanted the best for you.”

Reluctant as I was to spoil Father's Shabbat, I insisted that I had to speak with him first thing Sixth Day morning. I hoped that Mother had paved the way for me, which she had.

“If I'd had any idea how you felt about Abba bar Joseph,” Father said, “I never would have acceded to his request for a betrothal between you.”

“Of course you wouldn't know,” I reassured him. “As I had no reason to make my enmity public.”

“While that was wise of you, it does leave me in the awkward position of explaining why I'm breaking our contract.”

“Do you have to explain?” As much as I disliked Abba, I felt uncomfortable with him knowing it. “Can't you say that I hadn't authorized you to act as my agent, and therefore any bargain between you isn't valid?”

“While that is true, I'm sure Abba will want to know why you're rejecting him,” Father said. “Especially since the betrothal terms were so favorable.”

My curiosity piqued, I asked what they were.

“When I told him that you weren't giving your daughter to Ukva, Abba offered to support her as his own,” he replied. “That was very generous of him, especially as he would also be paying a substantial amount for Choran's
ketuba
.”

“He actually said he'd divorce her?” I told him about Choran's astonishing visit but held back how betrayed I'd felt that neither he nor Mother had bothered to inform me first.

Father scratched his head in thought. “Since Jewish Law prohibits such a wedding until your child is weaned, Abba would certainly want to keep his first wife until then,” he said slowly. “So we didn't discuss it.”

“The fellow is too clever by far.” I was well aware that the Mishna did not require a father to support his children; it just presumed he would. “So there's nothing about a divorce in your agreement.”

Father scowled. “If he does intend to take you as his second wife, that is unacceptable. Being a widow does not make my daughter so desperate.”

“Then you have an excellent reason for refusing him,” I said triumphantly, “without my feelings entering into it.”

“I'll inform him next week.”

Choran must not have been
niddah
the following week, because Abba spent Shabbat in Machoza. My relief at resolving the problem so easily was short lived, however, because Father came to me and asked, for the sake of good relations between teacher and student, that I discuss the matter with Abba myself.

I was so angry that I might have refused if Father had ordered me, but his worried expression and the way he appealed to me to do him this favor made it impossible to deny him. But I insisted on meeting Abba in the garden, where we would be plainly visible while no one could overhear us. The green flax had been harvested, and it would be a few weeks before the yellow flax arrived, so we would not be disturbed by the stink of any rotting stalks.

I chose the afternoon of Third Day, when I could not be accused of preventing Abba from attending court. The date was inauspicious for inscribing amulets or a
kasa d'charasha
, so I wouldn't be working, and the day ruled by Mars seemed propitious for what was sure to be a battle. Fortunately the following Fourth Day was Shavuot, so once Abba left for Shabbat, he would be gone the entire week.

That morning I went with my brother Mari to inspect my
ketuba
land for the first time. He told me that Ukva had been more than fair, for the field, now golden with ripening wheat, was located not far from an irrigation canal. There was also a date grove, which we examined from end to end before Mari pronounced the trees in fine condition. He was less sanguine when I said I wanted the profits from these properties invested in Tachlifa's business rather than used to buy more land. But as I thought about Tachlifa's gold coins, I knew I'd feel more secure in my widowhood with my own cache of ready money.

I finished feeding Yehudit just before the seventh hour and, still enjoying the calm that always resulted from nursing my child, headed downstairs. Abba was pacing near the far wall, and when he looked up, his expression was dark with anger.

“I would rather we walked in the orchards, where we'd have more privacy.” As always, his statement was a demand, not a request.

I refused to be cowed. “And give you the opportunity to appear secluded with me? Absolutely not.”

He wasted no time on preliminaries. “Why did you reject my betrothal offer?”

I refused to let his deep voice intimidate me. “I will not be the second wife of any man. Surely my father told you that.”

“And I told him that once we were married, I'd be able to pay Choran's
ketuba
and divorce her.”

“You expect me to marry a man who's so impoverished that he needs my money to divorce his first wife?” My voice rose with indignation.

Abba's face flushed and for a moment he was silent. “I don't believe this has anything to do with how many wives or how much money I have.” He took a step toward me. “I want to know the real reason.”

I stood my ground and stared at him, surprised that we were the same height. “It should be enough that I say I won't marry you. I'm not obliged to give my reasons.” Why was he harrying me? Did he imagine his commanding tone could bully me into marriage?

I turned to walk back to the house, but he grabbed my arm. “Tell me your reasons and I'll remedy them.”

Furious at being physically detained, I wrenched my arm away. Then I put my hands on my hips and faced him. “I don't want to marry you because I find you insufferable. You are arrogant, domineering, conceited, haughty, and condescending. I despise you so greatly that the very idea of marrying you is repulsive to me. There,” I challenged him. “Remedy that.”

One would think this would be enough for him, but Abba persisted. “I admit that I am not a humble man, but to bear me such hatred on account of it seems excessive.”

“You want to know why I hate you, then I'll tell you.” I knew I was screaming but I didn't care. “Because you are to blame for my husband's death. It wasn't enough that you discredited him at every opportunity in Father's classes. No, you gave him the Evil Eye and sent a snake to bite him.”

Abba started to protest, but I cut him off. “Don't deny it. I heard that tale you made up about Rami dying because he'd insulted Rabbi Menashia.”

He sank down on a bench and covered his face with his hands. I should have left immediately, but I had to hear how he would respond. So
I waited and listened to birds cheeping in the garden while my temper cooled.

Finally he looked up and his big eyes widened with surprise that I was still there. “Obviously I must withdraw my proposal, and to make absolutely certain that you are free of me I will write you a
get
, a bill of divorce.” He cleared his throat and then took a deep breath. “But first, please tell me if there is another man.”

I was so impressed with his “please” that I replied, “No. I already have a husband, Rami bar Chama.”

“But Rami is dead. You just held me responsible for it.”

“Yet in my heart he is still alive.”

Abba looked at me thoughtfully for some time, and I was reminded of how camel drivers surveyed their beasts to determine how heavy a load they could carry. “If you will hear me out,” he said, “I have a great favor to ask you.”

When I remained silent, he continued: “I have no reason to expect mercy or consideration from you, and indeed I deserve none. But even so, I beg you to save me from the shame I would suffer in front of the others.”

From the reaction to Father's very public humiliation of Keshisha over Zahra's pregnancy, I knew that rabbis and students feared shame more than any physical punishment. Rabbi Yohanan taught that it was better to cast oneself into a furnace than to embarrass another person in public. I had even heard Abba himself say that whoever causes a man shame in public has no place in the world to come.

“How can I save you from shame?”

“It is no secret that I have sought to marry you. Even my wife knows now.” He sounded tired and defeated. “When everyone hears how quickly and thoroughly you repudiated me, I am sure to be a laughing stock.”

Part of me wanted to say that he deserved to be, but I was beginning to feel ashamed of my earlier cruel words. “What can I do? Even if I never speak of it, others will.”

“Since you are in no hurry to marry again, there is no need for me to immediately write you a
get
. And in truth, as long as you continue to nurse Rami's child, remarriage is forbidden.” He paused, and I could tell by his look of concentration that he was thinking intently. “So if neither you, nor I, nor Rav Hisda says anything about it, people will not know if we are betrothed or not. Then in two years, when your daughter is weaned
and you want to remarry, long after everyone has forgotten about it, I could quietly write you a
get
so there is no impediment.”

“And why would I agree to do this?” I couldn't shake the feeling that he was plotting something against me.

“First, should another annoying suitor present himself, you could truthfully tell him that you are not free.” Abba knelt down on his knees before me. “More important, I will not let Rami's teachings be forgotten. I swear that I will share his words and ensure that they are said in his name.”

Suddenly aware that my jaw had dropped open, I hurriedly closed my mouth. But I remained speechless as Abba slowly stood up and brushed off his trousers. If I had not seen and heard it myself, I would not have believed it. The arrogant Abba bar Joseph had humbled himself before me and, on his knees, swore that he would keep Rami's memory alive.

“I will do as you ask.” I had no intention of discussing this debacle with anyone except my parents, so he was only asking me to do what I was going to do anyway.

His relief was palpable. “I deeply regret that we are not to be married. We would make a formidable couple.”

Father was also relieved. “Considering the length of time it took for Rav Huna and me to reconcile after that disagreement we had when I was his student, I was anxious to avoid any such estrangement from Abba bar Joseph.”

“He said that he would write me a
get
so there would be no impediment when I wanted to remarry.” I looked at Father questioningly. “But why is this necessary? Since I never agreed to marry him, there was no legitimate betrothal.”

He stopped to think. “True, your betrothal was invalid, but in cases of doubt, such as where a man mistakenly betrothed one sister when he meant to betroth the other, we require that he write bills of divorce to both of them.”

“So Abba was merely being cautious, to protect me?”

“Apparently,” Father said. “He is always one to consider every situation, no matter how unlikely.”

“Rami said that once when you were discussing tefillin, Abba asked how a man with two heads would wear them.” Somehow I managed to say Rami's name without my mouth quivering.

Father chuckled. “Rabbi Judah haNasi wanted to expel a student who posed that question, but then a man came to him whose wife had given birth to a two-headed son and who wanted to know if he should redeem the child with five or ten shekels.”

“Rami told me that because the Torah explicitly states that a father redeems his firstborn son according to head count, you taught that the man should pay ten.”

Father put his arm around me. “Rami was a good student. I miss him.”

I blinked back tears and suddenly thought of something I'd never asked Father about, despite all the people who'd questioned me. “Father, why did you give me that choice between marrying Rami and Abba? Surely I was too young to make such an important decision.”

“I am sorry I placed you in that awkward position, Hisdadukh,” he said. “Rav Joseph, Abba's father, had approached me, and I was in a bind. Though Achti was betrothed to Ukva, I had no official agreement for you to marry Rami. I thought if I asked you, I could confirm your choice without jeopardizing my good relations with the rejected suitor.”

“My answer must have been a shock to you, then.”

“It certainly was.”

Abba and the other students had no sooner left to go home for Shavuot than Tachlifa returned from Machoza with Pazi, Tazi, and Samuel, along with cartloads of merchandise destined for the West. He and Samuel would be leaving after the festival.

I had already decided that I would leave with them, even if it meant crossing the desert in the heat of summer.

During the days following my argument with Abba, I couldn't help but notice that he looked as smug as the cat that got into the cheese cellar. So as I combed the green flax fibers, I set my mind to figuring out why.

My first thought, an uncharitable one I admit, was that Abba, while keeping his vow to teach Rami's words, had not promised to praise them. In fact, he could use their debates to aggrandize himself while making Rami sound stupid. The more I imagined Abba continuing to criticize Rami even after his death, the angrier I felt.

But it wasn't until the day Abba left that I realized how cleverly he had manipulated me. Our betrothal might be invalid; yet if I wanted to wed a rabbi, which of course I would, no scholar would risk marrying me
if there were any doubt about my marital status. Even a suspicion that I might be betrothed to Abba would leave me unmarriageable, since if it were true, my new husband would be committing adultery, a capital crime, and our children would be
mamzerim
, outcasts in Jewish society.