Authors: Maggie Anton
“That is true,” I murmured. Could he hear the desire in my voice as clearly as I could in his?
Almost imperceptibly, he nodded. Without taking his eyes off mine, he fumbled with his cloak until it came undone and slid to the floor at our feet. The rustling sound it made as it fell distracted me for a moment and I looked down, only to see Rava's tzitzit tangled on top of the fabric.
Tzitzitâthe ritual fringes Elohim commanded Israel to attach to the
four corners of their garments, as written in the Torah: “Your tzitzit; look at them and remember all the mitzvot of Adonai and observe them, that you do not follow your heart or your eyes in your lustful urges.”
Rava was also staring down at them. Simultaneously we stepped back, and then without a word, he reached down, picked up his cloak, wrapped it around his shoulders, and stepped outside. I could hear him calling his servant to bring him some water, followed by sounds of splashing as he drenched his face.
How much of my feelings he shared, I didn't know, but I was overcome by shame, accompanied by relief and gratitude that his tzitzit had served their purpose and prevented us from sinning. Yet I couldn't deny that buried beneath these feelings was a modicum of regret.
That evening I endured one of the most uncomfortable meals I'd ever experienced. We tried desperately not to meet each other's gaze, but when it happened, which was often, we blushed furiously and quickly looked away. I couldn't imagine how I would get any sleep that night, not with my
yetzer hara
hoping Rava would come to me and my
yetzer tov
terrified at the prospect.
My anxiety was reaching its height when I felt a familiar stickiness on my inner thighs. I didn't expect my menses for a few days yet, so I tried to surreptitiously check without Rava noticing. But when I brought my finger out red with blood, I had no choice but to ask him for privacy.
I made a supreme effort to hide my feelings, but there was no mistaking the resignation on his face when I told him I had just become
dashtana
.
The next morning I raced to the bathhouse and bought all the fragrant oil the attendant had. Rava acted as if nothing untoward had occurred the day before, and once on our camels, he merely announced that he needed to study some Mishna.
“What do you want to study?” I hoped it would be something complicated, to quell both our
yetzer harim.
“I was thinking of Tractate Menahot,” he replied, with a wisp of either disappointment or remorseâI couldn't decide. “Perhaps the sections on tzitzit.”
But we could scarcely remember the text, let alone produce many Baraitot that disagreed with it. Still, we made a valiant effort, despite both our tendencies to stop midsentence and gaze off into the distance. Our concentration improved as the days passed, but there were no more
exciting arguments. In addition to tzitzit, we discussed other mundane subjects such as when to wear tefillin and how one may prepare food on Shabbat without violating the holy day. We placidly debated the laws concerning tithes, and when Rava praised my expertise in the matter, I silently thanked Zeira for making me so knowledgeable about the abstruse topic.
As our caravan passed out of the desert and into farmland, I grew more and more eager to see my family again. Chama would be in his tenth year, old enough to be studying Mishna. But when Rava came back from a morning meeting with the caravan leader, his downcast expression portended bad news.
“I know this is disappointing, but I've just learned that the earliest we're likely to reach Pumbedita is late on Fifth Day or early on Sixth,” he said.
“So I will have to spend Shabbat there.” I sighed with resignation at having to stay alone at a strange inn in a strange city.
Rava must have read my mind. “Don't worry. We'll stay with Abaye and leave early on First Day.”
“But Abaye doesn't know we're coming.” I began to pack up my meager belongings. “You're sure he'll offer us hospitality?”
“Abaye is my study partner, and I already have a room at his house,” he replied. “Actually it's his foster mother's house. She raised Abaye after his mother died, and I know she'll want to meet you.”
Suddenly his brow wrinkled with concentration. I knew he was thinking furiously, so I waited to hear what it was about.
Eventually he broke into a smile, the first one I could recall that made him look happy rather than conceited. It wasn't as dazzling as Rami's or Salaman's, but it lit his face nicely. “After you meet Em, you'll see why you must come to Pumbedita and study with her,” he said excitedly.
“Em?” The name sounded familiar.
“Em is a great healer. She knows all sorts of spells and potions, remedies for every kind of disease and injury,” he declared. “Your
charasheta
training wouldn't be complete without her knowledge.”
His enthusiasm should have been contagious, but instead I worried that Em might view me as a rival and feel threatened like the
kashafa
in Sepphoris had. Or worse, she might not consider me worthy of instruction. After all, what did I have to show for these last four years besides
some meager amulet inscriptions, such as one for winning at chariot races?
On the subject of races, either the camel drivers pushed their animals to get us to the city before nightfall or the camels increased their pace naturally as they sensed they were nearing home. Soon I could see Pumbedita's massive walls in the distance, and the air took on a damp smell as we approached the Euphrates. Nearby Nehardea had been rebuilt merely forty years before, after the Tadmorians destroyed it, but Pumbedita was ancient. As we passed through its narrow alleys, I felt as though I were going back hundreds of years to the time of Ezra.
When Rava and I arrived outside Em's gate, the sun was low in the sky. Em's residence seemed more of a fortress, with thick mud walls and small barred upper-story windows. It had surely stood at this spot for centuries. I waited nervously as Rava knocked on the gate, and then let out my breath in relief when the doorkeeper recognized him.
“Master Abaye is at afternoon prayers,” the slave said, eyeing me with curiosity. “I will inform the mistress that you have returned.”
Em's courtyard was much larger than I expected. There was the usual assortment of poultry, goats, and household slaves, but what interested me was the wide variety of vegetation. Separate from the fruit trees and vegetables were a large number of shrubs and plants that I didn't recognize, growing in a highly organized series of raised beds.
“Hisdadukh, what a nice surprise to find you in Pumbedita,” a melodious woman's voice came from behind me. “I was hoping you'd come study with me.”
I spun around to face one of the plumpest women I'd ever encountered. She was older than I remembered, with more wrinkles, but I knew I'd met her before.
Rava quickly recovered from his surprise. “I was about to introduce you, but evidently that is unnecessary.”
This had to be the healer Em, and I racked my memories to place her before I embarrassed myself.
Luckily she turned her attention to Rava. “What brings you to my door in time for Shabbat? I thought you had emigrated to Eretz Israel like Rav Zeira.”
“Don't publicize it, but I found scholarship in the West lacking,” he
replied. “And when I learned that Hisdadukh had been trapped there during the war, I brought her back with me.”
She looked down at our luggage and placed a hand on her ample bosom. “You just arrived here now?”
When Rava and I nodded, she clapped her hands and a bevy of slaves appeared. “This couple will be our guests for Shabbat. Take their things upstairs, and then bring water and towels for washing, and some refreshments.”
“Rava and I aren't a couple,” I interjected, amused that she thought we were. “That is, we will occupy separate rooms.”
Rava flushed and looked down at the ground.
Em gazed back and forth between us, as if she were trying to see into our hearts. “I expect there's quite a story behind all this.”
Suddenly it came to me. “You were at my wedding.”
She smiled. “And at your brother Tachlifa's wedding.”
It was her smile that made me certain. While Em hadn't been quite so plump or wrinkled back then, I was sure she had been one of the women visiting with Mother when Rahel announced I was going to be her apprentice.
I spent the next two days in Em's excellent company, while Leuton washed all the desert grime from my clothes. Em filled me with descriptions of her various plants and herbs, along with their medicinal uses. I tried desperately to remember everything she said, but I was too distracted by thoughts of seeing Chama again. And even if I managed to memorize all the plants in her garden, there were countless bottles and jars in her workshop, plus Rava said she knew spells too. Clearly study with Em could take yearsâassuming she was willing to teach me.
Rava disappeared with Abaye, and I assumed they were with their teacher, Rav Yosef. Abaye's wife was visiting her parents for Shabbat, along with their young daughter, and just the thought of the little girl filled my eyes with tears as memories of Yehudit assailed me. It was interesting that Rava had let people think he was moving to the West rather than say anything about bringing me the
get
. That was fine with me.
The sun was rising when Rava and I boarded the boat that would take us to Sura, hopefully that same day. Abaye and Em came with us to the dock, where she hugged me tightly.
“I'm so excited to know that I'll be teaching Haviva's daughter,” she gushed.
“I hope you understand that I want to spend some time with my family first,” I said cautiously.
“Of course, child. I won't expect you until after Sukkot.”
“You're sure you don't mind me learning all your secrets?” I was actually more worried that she'd deem me a rival if I knew too much. I'd already paid a high price for that mistake.
She looked into my eyes and the sympathy there told me that she was well aware of my fear. “You will find me a mentor, not your competitor.”
Her voice was so confident that I believed her.
Optimistic about my future, I watched her waddle up the road. No sooner had she and Abaye disappeared from view, than Rava took off the pack he was wearing.
“I have something for you,” he said, looking both nervous and pleased with himself.
I was expecting my
get
, but it was a slender codex. “
Sepher ha-Razim
,” I read the title aloud.
“I had to wait until I had access to my copy here before I could make one for you.”
So that was what he'd been doing when I couldn't find him on Sixth Day. I opened to the first page and noted that it was written in Hebrew. There the author of this
Book of the Mysteries
attested that the contents within were revealed to Noah by the angel Raziel, who stands on the seventh step of the Second Heaven. After Noah, the book passed through generations of deserving ones until it came into King Solomon's possession.
Rava grinned as I promptly sat down and began to thumb through it. The pages that followed described the hosts of the heavens, the angelic commanders, and, most importantly, their abilities. There could be no doubt that the author's intent was to instruct the reader in how to control these. I could almost feel the power emanating from its pages into my hands.
“Once you master this text,” Rava advised me, “you will be able to cast spells to help those seeking to be healed, to know the future, to sway the hearts of others, to have enemies overtaken by misfortune, to have dreams interpreted, and for many other purposes.”
“Rava, where did you get this?” The book was riveting.
“From a scholar who decided I was worthy to study it,” he replied, and I understood that this was a matter of utmost secrecy.
“I don't know if I'm ready for such knowledge,” I said as I read further. “It looks dangerous.”
“Good. You've taken the proper first step in learning it.”
“Who is going to teach me this?” I looked up at him. “You?”
He shook his head hastily. “I am merely a novice myself. But eventually, when you are ready, a teacher will present himself.” He stopped to amend his words. “Or more likely herself. By then you'll be familiar with the incantations.”
“Could we go over it together, today, just so I can be sure I understand what all the words mean?” I asked eagerly. “Please, it will be many hours until we reach Sura.”
He sat down beside me. “That was exactly my intention.”
I had expected my family to be pleased to see me, but I was astounded by the celebration that ensued when my arrival interrupted their evening meal. People began pouring into the courtyard, their voices high and excited.
Father took one look at me and with tears in his eyes intoned, “Blessed are You, Adonaiâ¦Who revives the dead.” My brothers also recited the blessing, made when seeing a loved one after an absence of a year.
I tried to repeat the blessing back to them, but I was overcome with tears. Tears of joy at seeing my family again after missing them so much, and tears of sorrow that I had returned without Yehudit.
Mother threw her arms around me and wept on my shoulder. “Tachlifa told us that when he saw you, you were dying.” She hugged me closer and whispered, “I am so sorry about your daughter.”
My sisters-in-law, Father's students, the household slaves, and any child who could walk raced to the courtyard to see what the commotion was about. I was assaulted by hugs and kisses, as everyone had to touch me to prove me real, but I reveled in all the affection directed at me. Rava stood awkwardly to the side, undoubtedly overwhelmed by this flood of ecstatic people.
When the din finally faded and everyone began returning to the
traklin
, I turned to Father. “Could you ask two students to remain with us?”