Apprentice (61 page)

“So I don't need any more money from you,” I concluded. “Although I could certainly use more red silk thread.”

He smiled down at me. “I've already arranged that. Simeon brought a good supply for you.”

Yehudit warmed to Tachlifa so quickly that within days she was riding on his back as if he were a donkey and trying to say his name. I spent every day with him, but the two weeks passed as quickly as a blink of an eye. On Simeon's recommendation, we traveled with him to Tiberias, where he visited Eliezer while we went to observe the massive flocks of migrating birds that congregated in the wetlands just north of the lake every spring and autumn.

As Simeon assured us, there were so many birds—swallows, egrets, cranes, and storks, among others—that Yehudit was giddy with excitement. At first she was frightened when a giant mass of them took flight together, their beating wings and loud squawks making such a cacophony that conversation was impossible. But once seated on Tachlifa's shoulders, she quickly thrilled to the sight, laughing and clapping her hands whenever they abruptly abandoned the water for the sky.

The only way I could get her to leave without a tantrum was by promising that we would come back to see them again when they returned in the fall.

“You don't expect to still be here in the fall, do you?” Tachlifa whispered as we rode back. “Won't she be twenty-four months old at Rosh Hashana?”

“I doubt she'll remember what I said,” I replied. But a stab of guilt assailed me at how easily I'd made a promise to my child that I didn't plan to keep.

I felt less guilty for not sending Salaman any messages to explain why I wasn't coming to his workshop. Sepphoris was a big city, but not so big that Salaman couldn't find out that my brother was here from Bavel, if he were concerned about my absence. Tachlifa and I prayed daily at the Babylonian synagogue, and twice Simeon took us to the chariot races, another outing that made Yehudit protest when it was time to leave. It wasn't as if I were in hiding. So while I basked in my brother's company, I struggled with my conflicted feelings toward Salaman. True, I enjoyed his charm and flattery enough to miss him during these few weeks, but I was wary of his intentions toward me.

Finally it was the night before Tachlifa and Simeon were due to leave. “Are you sure you don't want to come with me tomorrow?” my brother asked, his eyes searching mine.

I thought of Abba bar Joseph still studying in Sura, of my spending Pesach with Rabbi Avahu, and of watching Salaman create a mosaic portrait of me. I thought of how much cooler the summer was in Sepphoris than in Sura, and of the new incantations I could learn only in Caesarea.

“I'll wait and return for the New Year.” I managed a wan smile. “Heaven forbid that Abba should think I missed him so much that I came back early.”

“Then I'll continue to share your profits with Simeon.” He shot a quick glance at Yochani. “I hope she doesn't think you're being ungrateful for all her hospitality.”

“I've tried to share expenses, but it only makes her angry,” I said. “And it's just for a little while longer.”

It would be merely a few months until I saw Tachlifa again, yet the next morning my eyes were moist when Yehudit cried as he saddled his mule. We kept him and Simeon in sight until they were no longer even specks on the road out of the city.

Salaman made no complaint about my sudden absence and reappearance, merely remarking that he hoped I'd enjoyed seeing my brother again. But when I received Susanna's invitation to spend Pesach in Caesarea, I had to say something. As Yochani predicted, Susanna was delighted with the idea. She insisted that Yehudit and I should leave Sepphoris at the same time Yochani and her family left for Tyre, which would put us in Caesarea even sooner.

I waited with trepidation for Salaman to reply, afraid that he would admit to working during the festival.

But he broke out into a smile that lit his face. “Then we shall be celebrating Pesach together.”

“You're going to Rabbi Avahu's?” I was stunned. Surely only other great sages would have seats at the illustrious rabbi's festival meal.

“I go every year now,” he replied. “Rabbi Avahu won't hear of me spending Pesach alone in Sepphoris, not after the bathhouse disaster.”

“I'll be arriving a week early, so if you tell me how to find the amulet maker, I can order the bathhouse amulets before the festival starts.” I had already checked the dates, and there were two auspicious days less than a week before Pesach began. And if the scribe were already engaged, there were two more the week after the festival ended.

“I can do better than that. I'll go with you,” he said. “Rabbi Avahu
doesn't think it's wise for an attractive young woman to travel between cities without a male escort.”

The battle my
yetzer hara
and
yetzer tov
fought at my spending all of Pesach with Salaman was intense yet over quickly. My
yetzer hara
's eager excitement at the prospect easily vanquished my
yetzer tov
's anxiety, as I convinced myself that nothing untoward would happen under Rabbi Avahu's roof.

Thus I found myself, several weeks later, standing with Salaman at the gate outside a nondescript courtyard in one of Caesarea's residential neighborhoods. There was no indication of who lived here or what, if any, service or product they offered. Salaman banged on the gate and we waited.

“Are you sure this is the place?” I asked. “Maybe the scribe has moved since you were here last.” I didn't want to imply that Salaman had a poor memory.

“I know. It doesn't look like a business. But the scribe works by referral only.”

I nodded. “My sister-in-law also does that.”

“Really?” He looked at me quizzically. “What does she do?”

Before I could figure out how I was going to explain Rahel's
kasa d'charasha
to someone from the West, the gate opened a crack and a woman's wizened face peered out.

“We're here to see the scribe,” Salaman said. “We need amulets for the bathhouse.”

The gate opened just wide enough to admit us into a typical residential courtyard. Poultry scratched in the dirt, laundry was drying in the sun, and two kitchen slaves were grinding grain for what would probably be some of the last bread these inhabitants would eat before switching to matzah for Pesach. But that was assuming the amulet scribe was Jewish.

I was somewhat reassured when I saw the mezuzah on the entry doorpost, although a Nazarene might have one as well. We entered into a well-lit workroom almost completely occupied by a large table and surrounding benches. Quills and ink pots sat in one corner, and a stack of papyrus sheets opposite them. Shelves on the wall held small boxes whose contents was hidden.

A bald elderly man entered and gruffly addressed Salaman. “You say you need a new bathhouse amulet. What's wrong with your old one?”

I was astonished by the scribe's behavior. First, that he remembered Salaman and his previous purchase, and second, that he was dissuading a sale instead of encouraging it. Maybe his curtness came from being a man in a woman's business.

Salaman was nonplussed. “I have been advised that my current amulet has weakened after protecting me when the bathhouse floor collapsed.”

The man looked at Salaman with new respect. “Your adviser is correct. And if I needed any more business, I'd ask you to tell your friends how my amulet saved you.”

“I'd like a bathhouse amulet too,” I said. “I've never had one before.”

“Judging by your accent, that's because you come from Bavel, where they don't have many bathhouses.”

“If we give you our names now, how soon will they be ready?” Salaman asked.

I held my breath waiting for the answer. I'd been impressed by the scribe's sharpness a moment earlier, but today was not auspicious for inscribing amulets. Though his bathhouse amulet seemed to be effective, I'd be skeptical of anyone who'd prepare one this day.

“I don't write amulets on Third Day,” he objected. “It's ruled by the planet Mars. Tomorrow morning I'll be busy with yesterday's orders, but I suppose I should have yours done by midday the day after that.”

“My name is Salaman bar Appia and…” He turned to me.

“Hisdadukh bat Haviva,” I said.

The scribe squinted at me for a moment, and then pulled out several of the small boxes. “Pick any case you want. There's brass, tin, lead, silver, wood, and leather to choose from.”

Salaman chose brass, and I took leather. There was no reason for an expensive case when I was only interested in seeing what the amulet said.

Next the scribe reluctantly set down a large basket, which was nearly empty except for a few frayed red woolen cords. “I'm sorry, but that's all I have right now.”

“We don't need any.” I displayed the silk ribbons curled up in my purse.

“Where did you get those?” he demanded excitedly. “How much did they cost?”

“They didn't cost me anything,” I said. “My brother is a silk merchant, and I wove them myself.”

He eyed me shrewdly. “How many ribbons will you trade me in exchange for inscribing your amulets?”

Before I could answer, Salaman interrupted. “We can't bargain with you until we know what similar red ribbons sell for in the souk.”

“I don't think you'll see many, but you're welcome to try,” he said. “We can discuss this further on Fifth Day afternoon.”

Susanna had never seen ribbons like mine for sale in Caesarea, but she could tell me what the best red woolen strings cost. I knew what silk ribbons sold for in Sura, and eventually, by comparing prices of other goods common in both cities, we decided on a minimum amount for me to ask.

We gave the scribe plenty of time to prepare our amulets after his midday meal on Fifth Day. This time the courtyard gate opened promptly when Salaman knocked, and the scribe was waiting in his workroom for us.

He handed Salaman a small brass case, but to me he held out the papyrus alone. “You don't have to buy a leather case if you intend to put the papyrus in a gold one,” he said. “Besides, leather is a poor choice for a bathhouse amulet.”

He seemed to be challenging me to read what he'd written.

As I did, I smiled. The tiny letters were clear and well written, but what cheered me was the incantation's similarity to a Baraita Father had taught when discussing prayers to say in dangerous places, such as bathhouses. Despite the warm weather, a chill ran down my spine when I got to the final word.

The incantation read, “May it be Your will, Adonai Elohim, that You cause Hisdadukh bat Haviva to enter in peace and to depart in peace and to return in peace. And may there not happen to her a disaster, that You save Hisdadukh bat Haviva from this fire and heat and drowning and from the like, now and in the future. Amen. Amen. Selah.”

“I take it you approve,” the scribe said.

“I have heard its like before,” I admitted. “At what hour today did you write them?”

He locked eyes with me. “The fourth, of course.”

Salaman looked at us in confusion. “What on earth are you two talking about?”

“The fourth hour on Fifth Day is one of the most propitious times of the week for inscribing amulets,” I explained.

“So you are the Chaldean woman, newly arrived in Sepphoris, who now writes amulets there,” the scribe charged.

As there was no reason to deny it, I nodded. “I am not trying to cheat you or compete with you, but I want to learn more amulet incantations to use when I return to Bavel.”

“I will be happy to share my knowledge…” He paused and gazed longingly at my purse. “In return for a sufficient supply of your red silk ribbons.”

“Gladly.” I agreed without hesitation, tantalized by the promise of new spells. Yochani's son Simeon would bring me all the red silk thread I wanted from Tyre.

“Hisdadukh, stop,” Salaman exclaimed. “You don't know how many incantations he'll have or even if they're any good.”

The scribe frowned. “I'm not the one who needs help. If she doesn't appreciate my information, she doesn't have to pay.”

“Salaman, when you buy an amulet from this man, you trust him with your life,” I said. “He's undeniably an expert, and where else in the West will I learn what he can teach me?” Neither man needed to know that money was no object for me, that I would pay any price for more amulet spells.

“Very well,” he conceded.

I took a deep breath and faced the scribe. “So what kind of incantations do you write?”

I
wavered between hope and trepidation as I awaited his answer.

“I have amulets for protection from demons, pirates, highwaymen, miscarriage, and the Evil Eye.” The scribe leaned back in his chair and counted them off on his fingers. “Plus to cure fever, epilepsy, and toothache.”