Apprentice (55 page)

“Not long at all. I'll be leaving tomorrow morning to meet my brother-in-law in Tyre.” Then he turned and locked eyes with me. “Shall I stop by here on our return trip in the fall?”

I shook my head. “If you expect to celebrate the New Year in Sura, that would be too much of a delay. Give me at least a year's respite here.” I looked hopefully at Yochani. “If that is acceptable to you?”

“I said to stay as long as necessary,” she declared. “And I meant it, even if you decide to make Sepphoris your new home.”

Tachlifa's voice lowered. “I could insist that Abba write the
get
immediately, and then bring it to you on my next trip.”

I stopped to consider this. “No. I agreed to wait two years for the
get
, and no matter how much I distrust him I will stand by my word.” I smiled wanly. “At least one of us will act with integrity.”

“I will come by to see you next spring, then, before Samuel and I head home for Pesach.” He handed me a heavy purse. “In the meantime, this should cover your expenses.”

I looked inside and saw the glint of gold coins. “Oh, thank you. You're the best brother in the world.”

“This is merely a small part of the profit I intend to make on the amount you've invested with me,” he said.

That gave me an idea. When Yochani went outside to use the privy, I told Tachlifa, “Give my profits to Yochani's son Simeon, to use for supporting her. But he mustn't tell her about it, at least not until I leave. Then I can repay her for her kindness without wounding her pride.”

He nodded. “I'm glad to hear that at least some part of you is thinking logically.”

“You can't go until I've made new travelers' amulets for you and Samuel,” I declared. “After that sandstorm, I'm sure your current ones have weakened.”

Yochani acquiesced when I said I wanted to attend services for the Seventeenth of Tammuz at the Babylonian synagogue, rather than accompany her to her usual congregation. But she convinced me that the rabbis here would say that a nursing mother should not fast completely.

I thought back to those dark days last year when, despite my advanced pregnancy during the worst of summer's heat, I had not only refused food and drink on the two fast days but ate only sparingly during the three weeks between them. How eager I had been to join Rami in death, so indifferent to the child in my belly. Now, as I watched my daughter crawling across the stone floor or trying to stand, a great feeling of protectiveness welled up in me. I would do as Yochani said.

But she had a surprise for me.

“I haven't gone in years,” Yochani admitted, as we walked home after Shabbat morning services. “But now that you're here, I think we should visit Jerusalem on Tisha B'Av.”

My eyes widened. “You would take me to Jerusalem?”

“If not now, when?” she asked, quoting the great Hillel. “Tisha B'Av is the only day the Romans allow us to enter, and who knows if you, or I, will be here next year?”

“I heard that Jews could go there anytime, that it's only a matter of bribing the guards.”

She shrugged. “Women can easily get in by saying they're
minim
. But to go on Tisha B'Av, when the Holy City is crowded with other Jews, is a unique experience.”

I wasn't sure I was ready for a journey to a city full of weeping Jews, not in my fragile emotional state, and not after my harrowing trip from
Bavel. But I didn't want to disappoint Yochani, so I said, “Of course I'll go with you, since you recommend it so highly.”

She must have noticed my lack of enthusiasm, because she smiled. “Don't worry,” she said. “It only takes a few days to get there, and most nights we'll be staying near the sea.”

“We won't be traveling by boat, will we?” I asked anxiously. “I was terribly seasick when Tachlifa took us to Antioch.”

“No, and we won't be lodging in noisy, filthy inns either,” Yochani assured me. “I have friends in Caesarea, Jaffa, and Beneberak who will gladly open their homes to us.”

Yochani was being modest; her being the daughter of Reish Lakish and niece of Rabbi Yohanan would open more than a few doors to us. In Caesarea we stayed at the palace of Rabbi Avahu, “house” being too humble a word to describe the residence of that city's Jewish leader. Even Father's villa, one of the finest in Sura, couldn't compare to it.

Located on a slight rise, with a panoramic view of the Great Sea, it was built entirely of white stone. Despite Yochani's reassurance, I felt only trepidation as we approached the massive walls and made our way to the guarded entrance. But no sooner was her name announced than we were ushered into a large hall with the most wonderful mosaics on the floor. At our feet a menagerie of animals frolicked among flowering bushes and trees so realistic that Yehudit reached out to explore them.

Two slaves washed our hands and feet while others brought out cheese, olives, ripe figs, and some fruity drink I didn't recognize. No meat or wine would be served for the first nine days of Av, except on Shabbat.

“Rabbi Avahu was one of Uncle Yohanan's favorite students, after my father, of course,” Yochani said. “My uncle fathered ten sons, none of whom survived childhood, so he treated Avahu as the son he never had.”

“What made Rabbi Avahu move here, the Roman provincial capital? Isn't the city full of pagans and
minim
?”

“He knew they needed someone great to teach Torah and deal with the Roman governor. Wait until you meet him.” She leaned over and whispered in my ear. “He's as handsome as my uncle was, wealthy enough to influence even the highest Roman authorities, and easily the most charismatic man I've ever met.”

Even in Bavel we'd heard tales of the extraordinary beauty of Rabbi Yohanan and how Reish Lakish had seen him bathing in the river and
mistaken him for a woman. Then the story's details got murky, but the end result was that Reish Lakish married Rabbi Yohanan's even more beautiful sister while Rabbi Yohanan taught Reish Lakish Torah and made him into a great scholar.

I was wondering how best to ask Yochani how the two men met and became study partners, since she ought to know better than anyone, when a lovely middle-aged woman gracefully entered the room. She was dressed in the Roman style, in a sleeveless
stola
of such fine white linen that her
haluk
was visible beneath it. Her hair was elaborately curled, but in deference to the Days of Mourning, she wore no cosmetics or jewelry.

“Yochani, how delightful to see you.” She kissed my companion on the cheek. “I was worried that you'd forgotten us.”

“Forget you, Susanna? Never.” Yochani nodded from the woman to me. “Let me introduce my houseguest, Hisdadukh, who has come all the way from Sura in Bavel, where her father heads the
beit din
.”

“And this is my daughter, Yehudit.” I indicated to where Nurse was holding the squirming baby.

“A pleasure to meet you both.” Susanna's eyes narrowed with curiosity. “I assume you are on your way to Jerusalem for the Black Fast.”

“Indeed going to Jerusalem is merely an excuse to see you,” Yochani said, adroitly denying Susanna's insinuation that she was not worth visiting otherwise. “But Hisdadukh has never been to Jerusalem.”

“If you promise to stay longer on your return trip, when I can entertain you properly, I'll arrange for you to travel with my husband and me in our official carriage.”

Yochani playfully shook her finger at Susanna. “Now I shall be so much in your debt that I will never be able to repay you.”

Susanna chuckled. “I'm just following my husband's adage that it is better to have everyone in debt to you than vice versa.” She clapped her hands and several slaves appeared. “Take my friends' belongings to the guest quarters that overlook the water. Be sure there is a good supply of swaddling, and see that their mules are well stabled during their visit.”

Until Shabbat, Yochani and I saw nothing of our illustrious host, as he was continually occupied with official duties. I didn't see any students either, so I assumed that he taught Torah elsewhere. Susanna, apologizing for the hot weather, showed us a path to the beach, where Yehudit was soon playing in the sand and water.

My daughter squealed with such delight when she saw the sea, and cried so bitterly when it was time to leave for her naps, that we spent nearly all her waking hours at the beach. With Nurse and Leuton to help, and soothed by the waves' gentle lapping, I was able to relax for the first time in months. It was a perfect place to sit and review Mishna from Grandfather's codex, and for a time, my worries melted away.

Rabbi Avahu's custom, like Father's, was for men and women to dine together on Shabbat. With mourning suspended for the holy day, Yochani told me to expect the finest wines from Gaza and dishes seasoned with rare spices.

When we entered the dining room, I was astonished at the opulence of Rabbi Avahu's Shabbat table. His and Susanna's chairs were carved from ivory, the plates and spoons of gold and silver, and the linens were of such intricately embroidered silk that I couldn't imagine wiping my mouth with them. Susanna was seated next to her husband, and as honored guests, Yochani and I sat next to her.

Rabbi Avahu was an incredibly handsome man, with large dark eyes, a strong jaw, and, despite his age, a full head of wavy black hair. He greeted us with such charm that I could see how he'd achieved his high position in the provincial government. For the brief time that we spoke, he gave the impression that I was the most important person in the room, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that made me feel both flattered and unsettled.

Yochani chuckled at my reaction. “Now you see why all the Roman matrons sing his praises.”

Disconcerted that my reaction was so obvious, I changed the subject. “Where were the tables for children? Do they eat separately from adults on Shabbat?”

“There are no children in Rabbi Avahu's household,” she replied sadly. “His grown son lives in Tiberias and his married daughters also live too far away to travel on Shabbat.”

“Oh,” I sighed. A wave of homesickness hit me as I imagined Shabbat at Father's villa, where my numerous nieces and nephews made for a boisterous meal. Chama would also be there now. How long would it be before Yehudit could celebrate Shabbat with her brother and cousins?

Yochani pointed out all the local delicacies: a certain fish from the Great Sea, young lamb from the Galilee hills, and a unique bird that could be found only during its annual spring migration.

“Because this Shabbat is the last one before Tisha B'Av,” she explained, “they will forgo Rabbi Avahu's usual custom of slaughtering a fattened calf for the final meal.”

“Very prudent of him,” I replied. Since we wouldn't be able to eat it all that evening, after which meat would be prohibited until after the black fast, any leftovers would go to waste.

Yochani smiled. “Don't worry, we will have one next week.”

Though these new foods were tasty, I was hungry for Cook's dishes back home. Rabbi Avahu's students, however, were devouring them with the lusty appetites of growing young men who hadn't tasted meat for a week. Some of them gave me lusty glances too, and I remembered that in Bavel a youth married first and then studied Torah, while in the West he studied Torah first and married later, a difficult challenge for his
yetzer hara.

My biggest disappointment was that Susanna and Yochani stood up just as Rabbi Avahu was about to begin his lecture, and the way they waited near my chair made it clear that I should leave with them. Here I was, dining at the great rabbi's Shabbat table, yet I would not be able to hear his words of Torah.

Later that afternoon, when we gathered for the special third meal of Shabbat, I deliberately brought Yehudit along with me. Hopefully Rabbi Avahu would have taught his students the Baraita that stated, “A nursing mother whose husband died may not be betrothed or wed again until twenty-four months after the child's birth.” Then none of them would bother me.

To my surprise, the great man approached me himself. “You ate sparingly at midday, Hisdadukh.” His voice was full of concern, and again I felt giddy that his attention was entirely focused on me. “I hope the meal agreed with you.”

“The meal was excellent,” I said quickly. “But as I am not yet used to food from the West, I want to try it gradually.”

“Ah yes, the daughter of Rav Hisda from Sura”—his expression was serious, but his eyes were smiling— “who has come from Bavel to avoid a pesky suitor, and who knows enough Torah to demonstrate how to discourage suitors here as well.”

I comprehended instantly that his slaves had interrogated mine. I frowned slightly and said, “In Bavel women in rabbinic homes are not so quickly dismissed from the table at Shabbat, and thus we learn Torah along with the men.”

He seemed impressed with my reply. “You are not easily intimidated by Torah scholars.”

“I have seven older brothers, five of whom are rabbis,” I said proudly.

His face clouded for a moment, and convinced that I'd reminded him of sons who died young, I immediately regretted my words. But he recovered his aplomb, saying, “Your father must be truly blessed.”

“Many people in Sura believe so,” I replied.

“I would like to hear more about my colleagues in Bavel.” Again his eyes twinkled. “I think I will join you and Yochani in my wife's carriage to Jerusalem.”

Afraid that my face would betray my consternation, I announced that I needed to take Yehudit back to our quarters. I could feel my
yetzer hara
and
yetzer tov
pulling me in opposite directions, the former celebrating how exciting it would be to spend so much time in the company of this attractive, charming man, and the latter warning me to have as little to do with him as possible before I became completely enamored of him.