Apprentice (66 page)

“I doubt he cared after what we had to say,” Rabbi Avahu said. “First, Judah was perfectly obsequious in telling him that though he disdained Diocletian the swineherd, he had only the utmost esteem and honor for Diocletian the emperor.

“Wait, tell us the whole story.” Susanna waved at the slaves to bring more wine.

Rabbi Avahu and Judah Nesiah made themselves comfortable as slaves washed their hands and feet. “Diocletian recently received information that directed his outrage against the Nazarenes rather than us,” the patriarch explained. “Apparently the Roman gods were angry that so many soldiers had rejected them to follow the Nazarenes. That's why the war went badly.”

“Galerius intends to rid the army, or at least the officers, of all such heretics,” Rabbi Avahu said soberly. “Any who do not publicly sacrifice to the Roman gods and deny this new faith will be executed.”

“Only the Nazarenes?” I asked. “Israel rejects their gods.”

“But Israel doesn't tell the Romans not to worship them, nor do we incite them to worship ours,” Susanna replied. “The Nazarenes, however, do exactly this, plus they meet in secret and practice who knows what kind of clandestine rites.”

“Rome didn't care while the Nazarenes attracted women and slaves,” Judah continued. “But when men of high position became heretics and rejected the imperial cult, it was treason.”

“Emperors have been trying to rid Rome of these heretics for a hundred years,” Rabbi Avahu said. “You'd think it would be easy to isolate them in the cities, but no sooner had one emperor begun persecuting them, than he died and his successor became lax.”

Judah Nesiah sat up straight. “But tonight we gave Diocletian the key to destroying the Nazarenes once and for all, one that does not involve bloody persecutions that only make martyrs of the victims.”

Susanna and I leaned forward eagerly.

Rabbi Avahu spoke. “We pointed out that if Rome allowed the Jews to rebuild the Temple, it would deprive the Nazarenes of their very legitimacy. They claim to be the new Israel, preaching that the destruction of our Temple is proof that Elohim has broken His covenant with us and abandoned us.

“But if the Temple were rebuilt, it would show that their beliefs are false and their leaders are liars,” Judah continued.

I couldn't believe my ears. The Temple had been gone for over two hundred years, but Jews still prayed daily for its return. Was it possible that it could be rebuilt in my lifetime?

Judah Nesiah had more to say. “The Nazarenes also insist that the death of their false messiah, whose sacrifice atones for the heretics' sins, is
Elohim's replacement for the sacrifices and atonement our priests achieved in the Holy Temple.”

This time Rabbi Avahu interrupted: “If Jews begin sacrificing again, then their Messiah's death has no meaning.”

“Their followers would quickly desert them,” Susanna said, her eyes bright with excitement.

Her zeal was contagious, and I thrilled at the thought of bringing such incredible news back to Bavel.

Then Rabbi Avahu's eyes met mine. “We also suggested that the Babylonian Jews would be more likely to support Rome against Persia in appreciation for a rebuilt Temple.”

My enthusiasm flagged. “I don't know. Probably some would, but I suppose it might depend on the exilarch.” I knew my tone was lukewarm, but since so many Jews in Bavel didn't follow the Rabbis, what I thought was irrelevant.

Susanna's fervor was undimmed. “Maybe the discouraged Nazarenes wouldn't resume pagan practices after worshipping One God,” she said. “If there were a Temple in Jerusalem, they might become God-fearers or even Jews.”

Judah Nesiah sighed with pleasure at the idea. “Let's not ask Heaven for too much. It would be enough if the Temple were rebuilt and the Nazarenes repudiated.”

Thankfully, the presence of the patriarch effectively prevented me from discussing with Susanna and Rabbi Avahu the difficulties that stood in the way of my finding a new husband. But after spending three weeks in Tiberias celebrating Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur, and Sukkot with both Yochani and Rav Zeira, during which he took Yehudit and me to see the birds at the Hula wetlands several times, Yochani finally brought up the subject I'd been so desperate to avoid. She ensured our privacy by speaking on the road between Tiberias and Sepphoris, where she rode her donkey next to mine. The rainy season had not yet begun, and the hills around us were parched and dun colored. Every step our animals took sent up small clouds of dust.

“I've noticed that Rav Zeira seems quite taken with your company,” she said nonchalantly.

I could have kicked my donkey to hurry and take me away, but that
would have only delayed the inevitable. “He probably thinks I enjoy the sound of his voice as much as he does,” I said. “Either that or he's pleased to think he's found the rare woman who prefers listening to speaking.”

Yochani sighed. “I surmise that this admiration is not mutual.”

I shook my head. “Even if it were, I couldn't marry him. I couldn't marry any rabbi, nor one of their students, and not even a man who follows their teachings.”

She looked at me in confusion. “Why in Heaven not? You're the daughter of a rabbi—who else would you marry?”

If I told her it was complicated she would insist on hearing the details anyway, so I succinctly explained the situation Abba bar Joseph had placed me in. “And thus, because there's doubt if our betrothal is truly invalid, a rabbi would say I can't marry until I receive a
get
from him.”

“That's why you're so eager to return to Bavel.”

I nodded. “Though I could marry someone who doesn't accept rabbinic authority to decide Jewish Law,” I said slowly. As soon as the words were out of my mouth I winced at the enormity of what I was suggesting. How could I possibly live with someone whose beliefs were so different from my own?

She turned to look at me. “Someone like Salaman?”

I blushed at her accuracy. “He's attractive and we get along well together, plus he'd probably think my
get
problem is nonsense.” I hesitated as I realized the consequences of what I'd just said. “That would mean cutting myself off from my family, who would see my actions as repudiating everything they value.”

“At a minimum they would be sorely disappointed,” Yochani admitted.

“And at worst they might consider children I had by Salaman, or by any man with his beliefs, to be
mamzerim
, unfit to marry into the rabbinic community.” My eyes filled with tears of frustration at my dilemma, and I reviled Abba for putting me in it. He was probably smirking at my predicament this very moment.

“I'm so sorry, Hisdadukh. Indeed I wish I could help.” She was silent for a while before adding, “Maybe you should consult Rabbi Avahu. He's very clever and might be able to find a solution for you.”

“Not if it means marrying Rav Zeira,” I declared. “Besides, right now nobody in the West but you knows about my quandary, and I'd prefer not to publicize it.”

A wistful expression crossed Yochani's face. “Maybe this Abba bar
Joseph will do the right thing and bring you the
get
this winter. If Rav Zeira could make it here from Bavel, so could another man.”

I gulped. “I hope not. Zeira barely escaped with his life, and the last thing I need is for Abba to disappear in the desert, leaving me in an even more doubtful position.”

Yochani was quiet for a while and then surprised me with another question. “One thing I don't understand. Why would your father, who certainly knows Jewish Law, agree to betroth you to Abba when you're an adult who must consent to her betrothal herself, either before witnesses or by accepting a gift?”

If I'd been reluctant to explain things before, I was even more embarrassed to tell her about my childhood pronouncement.

Yochani was so astonished that she nearly fell off her donkey. “You told your father that you wanted to marry them both?” She shook her head in disbelief.

“I did,” I replied, my face flaming. “But don't ask me why I said it, because I don't remember.”

Yochani looked at me shrewdly. “And Abba said he'd be the last one?”

I nodded, and we rode the rest of the way to Sepphoris occupied with our own thoughts. But the question kept nagging at me—whatever had made me say I wanted to marry both Rami and Abba?

By the time we reached Sepphoris, I had resolved to talk to Salaman, ascertain his intentions, and let him know in no uncertain terms that our friendship could never lead to marriage. But my determination faltered the closer I got to his workshop. And when I saw how his face lit up after not seeing me for a month, I couldn't bring myself to broach the subject.

“Dada, I'm so glad to see you.” His face clouded slightly. “But I have news that may disappoint you.”

I felt my throat tighten in trepidation as various scenarios filled my mind. He'd changed his mind about using my visage in the mosaic, the city councilor had canceled the project, or, worse, he was now betrothed and his future wife objected to him spending so much time with me.

“What happened?” I squeaked out.

“I've decided to redo your portrait with much smaller tesserae than usual.” He looked at me anxiously. “This way I can create more subtle variations between your earrings, the trim on your garment, the sheen on your lips, the flush on your cheeks…” He trailed off, lost in thought.

My heart leapt inside, and I knew I'd never find the courage to discuss marriage with him. “Since the war is likely to drag on for at least a year, I won't be leaving Sepphoris for some time.” I tried to keep the exultation out of my voice.

“You're sure you don't mind the extra posing you'll need to do?” he asked. “It won't be as bad as starting from the beginning. I already have all the colors I need.”

“I wouldn't abandon you when you're so close to finishing your work.” I gave him a small smile. “Plus I would probably die of curiosity if I didn't get to see how it finally looks after all this time posing for you.”

“You're welcome at my workshop anytime,” he replied with obvious relief. “You can come watch the installation too. We'll be starting next week.”

I knew I'd be too caught up in the excitement of Salaman finally installing the mosaic to stay away. At least I told myself that was the reason.

Not that I spent more time at his workshop than previously. In truth, I seemed to go there less often, as the number of women wanting my amulets had grown to the point where I spent nearly every auspicious day inscribing them. In addition to the usual clients from the Babylonian synagogue who replaced their amulets at the New Year, I acquired quite a few God-fearers. The power I'd felt in Bavel to adjure angels and demons returned even stronger, and I found it exhilarating.

Julia had given birth to another girl while I was away, and, judging from the women who said that she or Claudia had recommended me, the two of them had been singing my praises to every Roman in Sepphoris. Yet something else had happened during that month, because on First Day, instead of attending synagogue, Claudia, and sometimes Julia as well, went to church and worshipped with the Nazarenes.

It was not our place to invite Julia and Claudia to celebrate Hanukah with us at Judah Nesiah's palace, but by then they had other friends at synagogue to share the holiday with. Their husbands' legions were called up, and opinion varied as to whether Galerius would surprise the Persians by attacking during the rainy season or wait until spring, the usual start of fighting season, when the roads were more passable. Everyone agreed, however, that the uncertainty itself was a brilliant tactic, since it forced King Narseh to prepare for both possibilities.

It was First Day just after the Tekufat Tevet, the shortest day of the
year, when Julia came to synagogue without Claudia and asked if she could discuss something with me privately.

“I'm worried about Claudia, that she's falling under the sway of these Nazarenes,” Julia confessed. “She must understand that Galerius won't tolerate any of his officers adopting the faith, yet she persists.”

I tried to hide my disappointment and disapproval. “I don't know that I can persuade her otherwise.” I couldn't tell if Julia actually needed my help or if she merely wanted someone to share her anxieties with.

“Maybe if you came with us to church once or twice and saw what they did there,” Julia pleaded. “Then you could explain to her the wrongness of what they do.”

For a moment I was speechless. Me—a rabbi's daughter, a Kohen's daughter—attend church? I shook my head. “How could anything I say make a difference?”

“Please, at least you could try to make her see the truth.”

I suddenly understood that it was Julia who needed convincing, not Claudia. “If I go with you, I reserve the right to leave at any moment rather than commit idolatry.” I had to admit I was curious about how these heretics worshipped.

“The public part is almost the same as a synagogue service, except they read from their Gospels in addition to scripture,” Julia tried to reassure me. “I haven't seen anything that looks like idolatry, but only Nazarenes are privy to the secret rites.”

“When do you want me to go?” Hopefully this unpleasant task would soon be behind me.

“Can you come this week?” she asked. “They only meet on First Day, in private, in one of the member's homes.”

I nodded. “But don't be too upset if I leave early.”

I told Yochani that I would not be joining her in Tiberias for Shabbat, that I could not possibly endure another lecture from Rav Zeira on how much he'd learned about tithes from Rabbi Pedat. Actually that wasn't quite true. I had no objection to studying tithes, but Rav Zeira could make even a fascinating topic boring, and tithes made a tedious one at best.