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So I continued: “Our Law, the Torah, was given to us by our prophet
Moses, while their law, the Avesta, was given to them by their prophet Zoroaster. We have both a Written and Oral Torah, but their Avesta is only oral and must be memorized by the Magi—their priests, scholars, and judges.”

“They have priests, scholars, and judges too?” Yochani asked in amazement. “I thought they were all warriors.”

When I nodded, Rabbi Avahu asked, “How does a Persian become a scholar or judge?”

“Like us, priesthood passes from father to son. But while any Jewish boy who excels at his studies can become a rabbi, in Persia only Magi are trained as scholars and judges.” My face clouded as I continued, “As our priests did when the Temple stood, theirs also make sacrifices on their festivals and purify the people who become impure.”

As I expected, a sad silence descended as we recalled the Temple sacrifices and priestly functions that were no more.

Rabbi Avahu was the first to speak. “How do their people become impure? And what do the priests do to purify them?”

Thanks to Zahra, at least I knew how to answer his first question. “Part of fighting evil is keeping the seven creations from becoming polluted with the impurity of death,” I said. “However, Persians have two types of dead matter, corpses and excrement, the latter being anything that issues from a person's body—blood, cut nails and hair, saliva, urine, feces, semen, and even breath. All these are immediately seized and polluted by Nasus, the Corpse Demoness.”

Judging by their rapt expressions, my audience found this fascinating. “Anyone thus polluted must be ritually purified and Nasus driven away.” I took a deep breath before continuing, for this next part would certainly sound strange to them. “In addition, Mazda's seven holy creations must be protected from Nasus, which means that dead bodies cannot be buried in the ground, meat cannot be roasted in a fire but must be cooked in a vessel, chamber pots cannot be emptied into streams, and a
niddah
pollutes even the air she gazes at.”

Their questions came all at once. “How do they dispose of dead bodies? What kind of privies do they have, and what do people do when there are no privies close by? How does a
niddah
manage her household? What about breast milk? How do they procreate if semen pollutes?”

And this from Rabbi Avahu, “How do they become purified from Nasus if they can't use water or fire?”

I answered the rabbi's question first, because it was the easiest. “I
don't know the details of their purity rituals, only that they involve washing with bull urine and can take several days.” I held up my hands and added, “Now, don't ask how they get the bull urine.”

As I expected, they looked at me incredulously. Then Susanna began to titter, followed by Yochani giggling, until we were all laughing uproariously, even Yehudit. Eventually Rabbi Avahu calmed us by admonishing that death was a serious matter.

I returned to answering their questions. “Breast milk and semen do not pollute when they go directly from one person's body into another's. But Persians consider it a terrible sin for a man to emit semen anywhere except into a woman's womb.”

Rabbi Avahu nodded in approval. “As do we.”

“A
niddah
does not manage her household,” I said. “For nine days, whether she's still bleeding or not, she stays alone in a windowless hut and has food brought to her.”

Yochani and Susanna looked at each other in horror. “And I thought our laws were strict,” Susanna said with a shudder.

“Persian privies are lined with stone, which is not subject to pollution,” I explained. “And if someone is out in the fields, he finds some rocks on which to relieve himself. In truth, everyone cleans themselves with round stones or pottery shards, even Jews, never with running water like you do here.”

“I remember hearing that the Persians expose their dead,” Rabbi Avahu said. “And bury only the bones.”

“It's true.” I shivered in disgust. “Persians leave the bodies on stone towers until birds and wild animals eat the flesh; then they bury the bones or seal them in stone sarcophagi.”

That gruesome scene was too much for my audience to imagine. When Yochani asked Susanna where we would be staying and how much farther it was until we got there, I understood that they'd heard enough about Persians.

After breaking our fast and saying our morning prayers in Jaffa, where we'd spent the night at the home of a wealthy ship owner, Susanna couldn't wait to go to the bathhouse.

“I'm sure this is nothing to you, Hisdadukh,” she said. “But to go ten days without bathing or anointing seems like an eternity for me.”

Yochani rubbed her hands in anticipation. “Indeed. Susanna is taking
us to a special place, a bathhouse right on the sea. There are both saltwater and freshwater pools, plus a private beach where we can bathe in the sea itself.”

“To give us the maximum amount of time there, our host has arranged to deliver the midday meal to the bathhouse.” Susanna sighed with anticipation. “After we eat, I think I'll have my blood let, since it's been well over thirty days.”

“No, you mustn't. It's too dangerous,” I warned her. “Shmuel taught that only First, Fourth, and Sixth Days are safe for bloodletting, and he was an expert on the stars and their influences.”

“Did he explain why the other days aren't?” Yochani asked.

“The Third because Mars is sovereign then,” I said. “And the other two because the Heavenly Court convenes on those days, just as earthly courts do, and you don't want to be judged while undergoing a risky procedure.”

Susanna shrugged. “I guess you Chaldeans know best about these things.”

I was not offended by her using the name Chaldean, although I wasn't sure if she meant me or Shmuel. At home only astrologers were called Chaldeans, but people in the West called someone a Chaldean if he came from Bavel and knew anything about sorcery, healing, or the stars.

The Jaffa bathhouse was as nice as Susanna described. I particularly enjoyed swimming in the sea, whose cool water was wonderfully refreshing after the heat and stink of Jerusalem. She and Yochani were surprised that I knew how to swim, something only boys were taught in the West. But when I explained that Jews in Bavel usually immersed in rivers and canals, they agreed that this skill could also be lifesaving for girls.

After another night in Jaffa, we left early for Caesarea. The sea breezes kept the carriage cool, and while my companions probably found the unchanging view boring, I was entranced by the endless blue expanse of water. Susanna and Yochani occupied themselves with an enthusiastic discussion of the banquet Susanna was planning for Tu B'Av, four days hence.

The more I heard about the celebration, the less disposed I was to attend, although I understood that I must attend if I wanted to avoid insulting my hosts. For the primary purpose of Tu B'Av, besides being an antidote to the despair of Tisha B'Av, was to arrange matches between unmarried men and women. Under the full moon, in the warm summer air, the young people danced the night away, hoping those they found
most appealing would find them appealing in return. Copious amounts of wine facilitated their pairing up as well.

Suddenly Rabbi Avahu motioned his wife to switch seats with him, so he sat beside me. “Our talk the other day has made me realize how little I know about the Persians,” he said. “Yet it seems that they may defeat Rome and become our new rulers.”

Had he noticed my discomfort with the older women's conversation or was he merely bored with it? “What else can I tell you?” I asked.

“You were careful not to dwell on them earlier, but surely there are other differences between us.”

I was reluctant to complain about my compatriots to a foreigner, but his interest in my views was so flattering that I had to tell him more. Luckily it was easy to think of a benign disparity between Jews and Persians so soon after Tisha B'Av. “The Persian religion forbids fasting, and they observe no days of public mourning,” I said. “All their festivals are celebrated with feasting and gifts to the poor.”

He bent his head closer to mine and lowered his voice. “I understand they practice incest.”

He had undoubtedly also gone to a bathhouse yesterday, for I could smell his spicy anointing oil. “Only the royal family and some of the high nobility marry their sisters and daughters, but many Persians marry cousins,” I replied. “All Persians must marry within their class.”

“Their class?” he asked. “Like Jews are divided into Kohen, Levite, and Israel?”

I shook my head. “They have four classes of freemen. The top three are nobles, warriors, and priests, which includes the physicians, court officials, and astronomers,” I said. “Farmers and artisans rank at the bottom.”

“Where do merchants fit in?”

He had not moved away, and my heartbeat quickened at his proximity. “There aren't many Persian merchants.”

“No merchants?” His eyebrows rose skeptically. “When Persia sits at the very center of the Silk Road?”

“There is no place in their hierarchy for merchants,” I said. “Ahura Mazda wants his people to earn a living from growing food and making useful items, not by profiting off those who do.”

“No wonder the Jews in Bavel are so prosperous.” He smiled knowingly and displayed teeth that were not quite as perfect as Rami's had been. “Their merchants have no competition.”

“The majority of Jews are like my family,” I protested. “Mostly farmers, except for an occasional merchant.”

Demonstrating the charisma for which he was famous, Rabbi Avahu spent the rest of our trip questioning me about the intricacies of turning dates into beer and flax into linen, as if these were the most fascinating topics in the world. And though I resisted, I felt myself succumbing to his charm.

Nurse encouraged me to attend the Tu B'Av celebration. Even though I wasn't looking for a new husband, the music and dancing would be good for me. After all, she reminded me, I hadn't been to such a banquet since my own wedding. And in the unlikely event that Yehudit woke during the night, I wouldn't be far away.

So I let Leuton curl my hair, daub me with perfume, and dress me in white linen. But when I approached the large courtyard, and heard music playing and people talking in animated voices, I held back.

What was I, a widow from Bavel, doing at this celebration of matchmaking where nearly everyone was a complete stranger? Not only was I in no position to participate in such an endeavor, but watching them happen all around me while I was excluded was sure to make me miserable.

I was about to turn back when Yochani came up next to me. “I'm so glad you decided to join us. You look lovely.”

“Compared to all the fresh young maidens here, I must seem like a wilted flower.”

“Let all the youths flock to the virgins.” She thrust a cup of wine at me. “You can dance and enjoy yourself without having to worry about such things.”

I downed the cup of wine, savoring its fine flavor. Despite the large gathering, Rabbi Avahu hadn't stinted on refreshments. “I will have to depend on you to ensure that I only drink an odd number of cups,” I told her.

Yochani looked at me in confusion. “Whatever for?”

I returned her gaze with equal surprise. “You don't know the danger of pairs?” When she shook her head, I explained, “Demons have permission to attack anyone who drinks an even number of cups.”

“I've never heard of such a thing,” she sputtered, as Rabbi Avahu walked over to us.

“Hisdadukh is correct,” he said. “For there is a Baraita that teaches: ‘He should not eat pairs, nor drink pairs, nor wipe in pairs, nor cohabit in pairs.'”

I knew that Baraita as well, so I recited it with him.

“It is clear that our Sages knew of the danger,” he said. “Yet today we are not concerned with pairs in Eretz Israel.”

“Still, I would prefer that Yochani count my cups.”

He spoke to Yochani but his smile took in both of us. “Since Hisdadukh has only drunk her first cup of wine, you must be sure to give two cups at a time from now on.” Then he disappeared back into the crowd.

Trying to see where he went, I noticed knots of older men and women chatting at the edges of the dancing. “Why are all those people just standing there?”

Yochani grinned knowingly. “Those are the girls' parents, ready to meet with a young man should a mutual attraction develop.”

“Only the girls' parents?”

“Men here marry much later than in Bavel, so most of them have no parents to arrange their matches.”

I gazed at the dancers and realized that, indeed, the majority of men were my age or older. The musicians began a new tune, and, the wine already untying the knot in my belly, I took my place among the young women.

After a while I decided that I had been worried over nothing. As long as I didn't make eye contact with any of the men, none of them troubled me. The musicians were excellent, and I relished dancing again after such a long hiatus. I took small breaks to eat or savor another two cups of my hosts' excellent wine. I had been silly to be so concerned. This was truly a delightful banquet, and I intended to enjoy it to the fullest.

The night wore on as I swayed to the music, appreciating the sea breeze on my damp skin. The moon was low in the sky when I sensed that someone was watching me. The feeling was so strong that, forgetting my earlier resolve, I scanned the circle of spectators.

And met the stare of a man I had never seen before. He immediately recognized that I had returned his gaze and began walking intently toward me.