Apprentice (69 page)

“She knows mine, she knows your daughter's, and she's probably wheedled yours out of your slaves.” Yochani pushed me toward the
kiton
. “No more discussion. We're going.”

Yochani's fear was contagious. I couldn't forget how the
kashafa
had stared at me through her narrowed lids. She didn't need to know my mother's name to give me the Evil Eye, and the terror in the pit of my belly came with the certainty that she'd just done exactly that.

We were still loading the mules when Julia raced into the courtyard. She saw our packed belongings and burst into tears. “Thank Heaven you're leaving. I don't care where you're going—take my children and me with you. Please.”

Yochani looked at her in disbelief. “Why? What happened?”

“Soldiers came to church this morning and arrested everyone. They let me go when I made a sacrifice, but Claudia refused. I don't think she cares about living anymore, now that her husband is dead.”

“Oh no,” I gasped.

“They took her and her children away.” Julia was weeping so hard she could scarcely get the words out. “Unless she agrees to sacrifice publicly, which I know she won't, they will all be killed.”

I was livid at Claudia. It was one thing to martyr herself, but to condemn her innocent young children to such a horrific death was beyond evil. But, then, she believed that her faith would grant them all eternal life, I thought bitterly.

Yochani took Julia's hand and squeezed it. “If you want to come with us to Tiberias, be back here with your children as soon as you can. I'll go hire another mule.”

Not even the leatherworker's family was informed where we were going, and Yochani, who knew where the
kashafa
lived, made us avoid that entire quarter as we fled. Even after Sepphoris was far behind us, I kept looking back, afraid to imagine what or who might be pursuing us. It was dark when we dismounted in Eliezer's courtyard, and hours later when I finally fell asleep.

I kept telling myself there was no need to fear the
kashafa
back in Sepphoris. The pious rabbis in Tiberias would provide protection to one of their own. But in any case, with the war essentially over, Yehudit and I would soon be on our way home to Sura. In the dark room I wished I could stop running away from my troubles. Trying to escape Abba had sent me to the West. Now this
kashafa
, along with Salaman and Zeira—I realized with sudden insight—had me fleeing in the opposite direction.

We told no one what had prompted our sudden visit, and the first week in Tiberias passed without incident. Rav Zeira, of course, was delighted to see me. He attended synagogue with me every day and, taking advantage of his popularity with the local scholars, had the two of us dining at a different rabbi's table nearly every meal.

I learned that he had not always been so hunched over and swarthy. Among his numerous fasts, he'd undergone a hundred to make him resistant to the fires of Gehenna. Then, every month he would test this by sitting inside a lit oven, which had no effect on him. But one day, the rabbis—he didn't know which ones—gave him the Evil Eye, so the oven's fire blackened his skin and prevented him from standing upright.

The more I considered Zeira's strange story, the more I found his exaggerated piety offensive. Most scholars thought holiness should be a private matter, not something to boast about. So I kept my Torah knowledge to myself. While I heard a good many Baraitot at these meals, and continued to review Mishna at night, I neither entered the scholars' discussions nor made any indication that I appreciated them.

But my days were not entirely taken up by a parade of rabbinic scholarship. Yehudit, who was growing up before my eyes, had reached the point in her learning where she not only questioned me about the Israelites in the Torah but about Elohim as well. Her innocent inquiries were not always easy to answer, but I was exceedingly pleased that her memory seemed to be every bit as good as mine.

Yet the maturity that allowed her to learn Torah meant that she often
preferred the company of Julia's daughter, leaving me aching for the days when I was her entire world. So together we all frequented the hot springs at Hammat, and when the weather was nice, we watched the birds migrating through the Hula valley. It was an activity the girls especially enjoyed.

Except when we were again attacked by mosquitoes.

This trip to the swamplands started like all the others. Mounted on mules, Julia and I headed north along the lake until it became a marsh. The air was warm and humid, and filled with sounds of croaking frogs and humming insects. When we reached a trail that led to one of the prime viewing spots, we tied up the animals and walked quietly toward the water, careful not to disturb the birds.

Mosquitoes were a common annoyance, so we always anointed ourselves with a special oil that Eliezer's wife said repelled them. But this time, immediately after turning a corner, we were engulfed by a horde of them. They were under my clothes and in my eyes, their furious buzzing like millions of tiny screams. In an instant even the smallest piece of exposed skin was covered with them.

The oil was plainly ineffective, so I grabbed Yehudit and ran for where we left the mules, Nurse right behind me. Julia did the same, carrying the baby herself while her nurse picked up her terrified daughter. The mosquitoes still swarmed us, and with one arm holding Yehudit, my efforts to swat them away were futile. My skin was under assault, a thousand tiny pinpricks, and Yehudit was crying with a pain and terror that I could do nothing to soothe. Finally the mules came into sight, and I practically threw her on Nurse's lap as I climbed on, and then we were away.

By the time we reached home, we were covered in angry pink welts. Yochani and her daughter-in-law plastered us with salves and poultices, and a few days later the awful itching was gone.

Nobody suggested returning to see the birds again.

Less than a week later, after we'd been there a month, Eliezer's house was starting to feel crowded. Hospitality being such a Jewish virtue, neither he nor his wife would dream of asking us to leave. Yet I could feel the tension growing and was thankful when Julia broached the subject.

“I very much appreciate your hosting me and my children, especially at such short notice,” she told them. “But I just realized that we left without telling anyone, which means that when my husband comes back from the East, he won't know where we've gone.”

“You think you'll be safe there now?” Yochani asked.

“I've heard that most persecutions are occurring in Caesarea,” she replied. “But even so, I'll be sure to stay far away from any churches in Sepphoris.”

Suddenly I realized something important. “Ha-Elohim! I also need to go back to Sepphoris. My brother Tachlifa would be able to travel this winter, and he'd be sure to come looking for me.”

Yochani gazed back and forth between the two of us. “I suppose I may have been a bit hasty in making us leave without telling anyone.”

“Nothing has happened so far,” I reminded her. “And if I stop inscribing amulets once we return, hopefully we'll be safe until Tachlifa arrives.” I tried to sound confident, but there was a sense of foreboding I couldn't dispel.

We'd been back only a few days, and were looking forward to celebrating Purim, when Yehudit vomited up her evening meal. In addition her forehead felt warm, so I put her to bed and sang to her until she fell asleep. Small children picked up all sorts of illnesses, I told myself; she'd be better in a few days. Just to be sure, I moved my bedding next to hers so I could be there if necessary. She slept fitfully, waking so often with shivers and complaining that she was cold that I took her into my bed to keep her warm. In the morning she was soaking wet with sweat, but except for her continued lethargy, she seemed better.

Knowing that her amulet had been weakened, I wrote her a new one. But two days later she began shivering again and complained that her head and stomach hurt. I also wasn't feeling well, and neither was Nurse. Yochani sent for the doctor, who bled both of us, and that seemed to help for a while. But then I started to feel cold, and no matter how many blankets Yochani gave me, I shivered worse than ever—until the fever came.

Obviously I wouldn't ask the Sepphoris
kashafa
to exorcise the demons afflicting us, so Yochani called in another healer. But the ingredients in his remedy for intermittent fever—seven dates from seven palm trees, seven splinters from seven house beams, seven pegs from seven bridges, seven handfuls of ash from seven ovens, seven clumps of dirt from seven thresholds, seven kinds of pitch from seven ships, seven spoons of cumin, and seven hairs from an old dog's chin—were difficult to obtain and thus quite expensive. Suspicious of the man's honesty, Yochani bargained him down to accept half the price in advance, the other half on delivery. But as she feared, he took the money and failed to return.

Yehudit was whimpering with pain. My heart ached with the longing to hold and comfort her, but I was so hot and weak that I couldn't even sit up. Through my delirium I could hear her calling for me, and though I struggled to go to her, the pain wouldn't let me. My head hurt, my belly hurt, and it seemed that every bone in my body hurt too. Time stretched out so that I couldn't tell an hour from an entire day; there was only the never-ending cycle of cold and fever and pain, always the pain.

Sometimes there came a period, especially when the fever hit, when I didn't know if I were awake or dreaming. I would hear voices and see people who couldn't possibly be there, like Father, Mother, or Chama. Sometimes I saw people who were dead, like Grandfather and Rami.

One dream came regularly. We were in the garden in my parents' villa and all the flowers were blooming, even those that didn't blossom at the same time. I would see Rami among the roses beckoning to me, but when I tried to go to him, Abba bar Joseph would block the way. Oddly, Abba wore tefillin but Rami did not. Sometimes Rami got quite close before Abba interceded, but no matter how hard I tried to get around him and join my husband Abba's presence prevented me.

Then the dream changed. This time when Rami approached me, he held a sword. But Abba also had a sword, in the hand where the straps of his tefillin tied, and whenever Rami raised his, Abba parried the attack.

“She is mine,” Rami insisted. “Give her to me.”

Abba shook his head. “No, you can't have her.”

“You cannot stop me. Do not stand in my way.”

Rami rushed at Abba, sword held high, but Abba stood his ground. “If you want her, you will have to take me with her.”

Rami glared at Abba. “As much as that would please me, it is not your time. I am here only for her.”

“I will not let that happen,” Abba challenged Rami. “You may as well give up.”

Suddenly Rami's eyes seemed to glow. He pointed his sword straight at Abba and charged, only to have Abba jump aside at the last moment. Abba's sword gleamed in the light, its hilt bound together with his tefillin. The two swords clashed and Rami's flew from his grasp. In an instant Abba's sword was at Rami's throat.

“You cannot defeat me. You can only delay me,” Rami said calmly. “So this time I will leave without her.”

Abba kept his sword in position. “You won't come back to take her for a long time.”

Rami reluctantly acquiesced, and then a terrible thing happened. He began to transform. His legs shortened and his body grew larger. His arms both widened and thinned until they were wings folded across his back. I couldn't describe how it happened, but his head kept stretching horribly until it was no longer human but that of a fly. Rami had shed his disguise, and before us squatted Nasus, the Corpse Demoness, the one Jews knew as Samael, the Angel of Death.

“She must have a full life, three score and ten,” Abba added.

“I cannot promise that.” Nasus stood up, spread her wings, and prepared to take flight. “If she should again fall into my clutches, I will take her.”

Abba brandished his sword at her. “And I will fight you again to prevent it.”

The Corpse Demoness cackled wildly and screeched to Abba as she flew away, “Just because I didn't acquire her, it doesn't mean that you will.”

It could have been hours, days, or even weeks before I woke up, but when I did I was drenched in sweat and terribly thirsty. Yet most of my pain was gone, and though I felt faint, my head was clear.

It took all my strength to open my eyes a crack, and immediately Yochani's voice murmured, “I think she's awake.”

A strong masculine arm lifted my head, and I could smell the broth coming nearer. Thankful that Tachlifa had come at last, I closed my eyes and let the warm liquid flow down my parched throat. Another bowl was held to my lips, and I drank that too before lying down.

Finally I opened my eyes, wider this time. It appeared to be early evening, and I was in bed in Yochani's
traklin
. I looked to the side and gasped with surprise. The beard was fuller, but the skin was pale and there were dark circles under his eyes. Still, there was no mistaking the man who knelt next to me, the man who certainly wasn't my brother.

“Abba bar Joseph,” I whispered. I reached out to be sure he wasn't an apparition and touched his hand. “It really is you.”

“They call me Rava now.”

“What are you doing here?”

He pulled his hand away. “I came to deliver your
get
.”