Enchantress: A Novel of Rav Hisda's Daughter, page 14
“Like Father does.”
She frowned with suspicion. “Who told you that?”
“Grandfather said Father knew priestly magic and that he once reversed a charasheta’s spell that had stopped the boat he was traveling on.” I was unsure what had upset her.
Evidently my answer satisfied her, because she smiled. “Most of your father’s knowledge is reserved for men, but don’t worry, you will find another teacher.” She stood up, and I knew our discussion was over. “Now I need to see that everything is in readiness for Shabbat.”
“Thank you, Mother. Especially for your advice to approach Rava directly.” I was so grateful I stepped right in front of her and hugged her. She smelled of the same floral perfume she’d used when I was a child, and her linen tunic was as soft and fine as only her expert hands could weave. But I could see small wrinkles at the corners or her eyes and lips.
She embraced me briefly and then resumed her practical demeanor. “On that subject, Rava came here with only the outfit he was wearing, clothes inappropriate for Shabbat.” She stated this as fact, with no disapproval. “I had them laundered and repaired for his trip to Machoza, but I also provided him with clothing suitable for the holiday.”
• • •
Shabbat was the one day a week when the entire household—parents, children, and students—dined together. Instead of women and men sitting separately while children ate with their nurses and tutors in another room, each family sat together on Shabbat, and the students ate by themselves. Everyone dressed up, even the children.
Pazi and Tazi insisted I wear something Rava had never seen for the evening meal. Both women were shorter and plumper than me, but Tazi thought I could wear one of her older red silk tunics, from when she was thinner. This went over my own linen trousers, which were decorated with borders of red silk ribbons I had woven myself.
Thus when we came downstairs, I had the pleasure of watching Rava’s face suffuse with both admiration and pride. I’m sure my expression mirrored his when he stood up to greet me, resplendent in a green-striped outfit that looked as though it had been tailored to fit him perfectly—which Leuton told me was indeed the case. He was surrounded by admiring students, and the pleasure this gave him was so patent that I offered to dine with Pazi and Tazi so he could continue to bask in their flattering company. We would have many future Shabbats to eat together.
Shabbat was when Father served wine, and I saw that Rava was not the only one who preferred it to date beer. The slaves kept Pazi’s and Tazi’s cups full, and by the meal’s end they showed signs of inebriation.
“I think Rava is jealous of us,” Pazi said with a giggle. “He can’t keep his eyes off you.”
“So has he kissed you yet?” Tazi asked. When I shook my head, she continued, “Don’t tell me he’s one of those Machozeans who think mouth kissing is disgusting.”
I couldn’t allow them to think that. “No, but his wife is.”
Pazi elbowed her twin and whispered, “I hear he’s one of those rabbis who’s lenient with everyone except himself.”
“I believe so,” I replied. What was she implying?
“I hope he isn’t one of those strict men who makes his wife wait an extra seven clean days before immersing,” Tazi said with frank disapproval.
Pazi pretended to shudder. “Two weeks a month without using the bed is even worse than no kissing.”
Naturally my two companions were occupied with lustful thoughts. They were about to see their husbands again after a six-month separation. In addition, the Sages recommended Shabbat as the most appropriate night for using the bed, and judging by the amorous couples leaving the traklin a judicious while after their children, my family followed their advice.
Rava was still chatting with the students when I bid the twins good night, and once in bed, my mind also became occupied with lustful thoughts. I had always emitted seed when Rami and I coupled. Surely Rava would be equally competent. But what if he wasn’t? What if he were one of those Machozean men who only used the bed half the month?
• • •
Following the Shabbat midday meal, I was prepared to let Rava remain with the students, but, to my surprised delight, he headed toward me. “It is our custom to walk together on Shabbat afternoon,” he told them as he held out his hand to me.
“Surely it is too hot to walk today,” Bibi was bold enough to protest. “Come swimming with us.”
Rava scowled with more annoyance than the situation called for, but I put it down to his eagerness to spend time with me. “I do not enjoy such activities. You should go without me.”
“We can walk in the orchards or date groves, where it is shady,” I said. In the summer, most adults and small children disappeared upstairs after the Shabbat midday meal, to nap, while the others headed to the canals to cool off.
The students accepted our rejection, and after Leuton brought me a wide-brimmed hat, Rava and I set out. But walking alone was more difficult than I’d anticipated. Children frolicked among the trees—tossing balls, racing each other, and playing games that involved hiding and jumping out again. I didn’t see how we’d have any privacy for kissing.
I was about to thank Rava for quoting Rami in his talk, when he let out his breath in a huff. “I do not know how your father can think, let alone teach, with all these children running around screaming and shouting. The noise is deafening.”
I’d never paid attention to the children’s noise before, let alone objected to it. Our household was always full of children, and now that my older brothers were grandfathers, there were even more. That’s why Father had added a third floor. But Rava had only one younger sibling, and there were no children except Abaye when he was living at Em’s.
“Those noisy children are descended from Father’s five sons who live here in Sura.” I smiled. “So if the Chaldean is correct, that is what our household will eventually sound like.”
At first Rava stared at me in dismay, but then his expression softened. “Rav Hisda didn’t suddenly acquire all those children. They arrived gradually, over many years.”
“So he had time to get used to the increasing tumult, as I expect you will do as well.”
There was a sudden shriek of anger in the distance, followed by a childish argument over who had the ball first. “I suppose I will have little choice,” he said in resignation.
“Look on the positive side, for I doubt that anyone will be able to overhear our conversation.” I closed the distance between us and took his hand. “I want to thank you for quoting Rami in your teaching yesterday. It meant a great deal to me to hear him remembered.”
“I swore to you that I would share Rami’s words and ensure that they were said in his name. So have I done and so will I continue to do.”
I felt myself blushing at his sincerity. Back then, I’d been sure his intent was to use Rami’s words to aggrandize himself while making Rami look stupid.
“Speaking of days long ago, there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you for some time.”
There was anxiety in his eyes, but he replied, “Very well.”
“In Father’s classroom, when I said I wanted to marry both of you, why did you want to be the last one?”
He needed no time to think. “If I’d married you first, then the only way Rami could marry you too was if I died. But if I were to marry you later, it could be because he’d divorced you. It wouldn’t mean he’d have to die.”
Of course, Rami was of priestly lineage. He was forbidden to marry a divorcée. I waited for the question Rava would inevitably ask next—why I’d replied that I wanted to marry them both. But he remained silent, so I questioned him.
“Aren’t you curious why I said that?”
He shook his head. “It is evident that you had the gift of prophecy.”
“The Chaldean said I would be given prophecy . . . and two husbands,” I said slowly.
“Now that we are to be married, I would like to know more of what the Chaldean foretold,” he said. “Particularly the predictions that involve your husband.”
While Rava was no more likely to give me the Evil Eye than my mother, I kept my voice low as I summarized what Pabak had told me. Then I found the courage to say, “I have another question for you, an important one.”
“Then ask me, so I can put your mind at ease.”
“I heard that Machozean women wait an additional seven clean days after they are no longer dashtana.” Before he could comment, I exclaimed, “Do you expect me to do that?”
His face darkened with anger. “The Torah commands women to immerse seven days after they become niddah, neither more nor less. And you tell me of a mere custom,” he stormed. “While I cannot prevent women from adopting this stringency, I do not condone it. And I do not want it practiced in my house.”
I squeezed his hand. “Good.”
• • •
Shortly after our family said the Havdalah blessings that marked the end of Shabbat, the boat to Machoza arrived. There was a sudden flurry of activity as Rava, along with Mari and the twins, prepared to leave.
That was when Father beckoned to me. “Now that we are alone, I want to talk to you about your son.”
I swallowed hard. Father sounded so serious. Was he having problems with Chama? “Is anything wrong?”
Father smiled. “On the contrary. Your brother Pinchas reports that Chama is one of his sharpest students. I hope you’re not planning to bring him to Pumbedita.”
The thought had entered my mind, but I’d immediately rejected it. “Chama may be my son, but he belongs to Rami’s family. And now that I know he’s doing so well here, I certainly wouldn’t want to interrupt his studies. I’d also hate to separate him from Bibi.”
“Good,” Father said. “Since he shows such promise, I plan to take him under my wing. My other grandsons have their fathers here to supervise their learning.”
“Oh, Father, thank you.” I took his hands and kissed them in gratitude. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”
He let go and waved his hand in dismissal. “I will not detain you any longer, Daughter. Go and give a proper farewell to your future husband.”
I started climbing the stairs to the roof, where Rava had slept during his visit, only to meet him and Tobia halfway down.
Rava smiled with relief. “Tobia, see that my things are properly stowed. I will meet you at the boat.” When the slave was gone from view he whispered, “Where can we be alone?”
I had been wondering the same thing. “Follow me,” I said, heading to the far end of the courtyard.
Once outside the gate, he pulled me close. “I have a strong suspicion that our kissing was a disappointment to you.”
I had promised not to lie to him so I responded, “It was your first kiss, and you were unprepared.”
“Rami was unprepared when you kissed him in front of me, yet it was evident that neither of you were disappointed.”
The pain in his voice made me cringe with shame. It was almost fifteen years ago, yet he still remembered.
“I was young then and I was so angry at you . . .” My words trailed off helplessly.
“You have no idea the agony that kiss caused me, but it also made me want you even more.” He hesitated. “I still find it difficult to believe that you truly want me.”
“I think I’ve always wanted you.” I smiled up at him. “Though there were certainly years when I didn’t want to want you.”
“Oh, I had many years when I didn’t want to want you,” he said softly. “Yet you are about to become my wife.”
This time when our lips met, I let mine gently caress his until I felt him responding in kind. Then I put a bit more vigor into my movements and was relieved when he bore down in return instead of backing off. My pleasure had scarcely overcome my anxiety when suddenly his hands were in my hair, drawing me closer so that our mouths strained against each other. I threw my arms around him and pressed my body against his. I had been starving so long, and now here was a banquet. I wanted to devour him, and he was equally hungry for me.
His lips left mine and began to move across my cheek, down to my neck—
“Rava,” a voice shouted in the distance. “Where are you? We’re ready to go.”
Gasping, we separated. “I’ll be at the dock in a moment,” he called out. Then he turned to me. “I believe this kiss was not quite so disappointing as the previous instance.”
I kept my arm around him as we walked to the canal. “It was a fair beginning, but I expect you’ll improve with practice.”
• • •
The next morning I took Chama aside after his Mishna class. In a few years he would start growing and changing so rapidly he’d look different each time I visited Sura, but now he was still my little boy. His hair was dark and curly like his father’s, but his face and eyes were mine. Sitting with his cousins, nobody could doubt that he was another of Father’s grandsons. I knew his smile was Rami’s, but he wasn’t smiling now.
“Where’s Rava?” he asked anxiously. “I thought he’d be around here somewhere.”
“He went to Machoza with Uncle Mari and Aunt Pazi. He has business to attend to before our betrothal.”
“Are you really going to marry him?”
“I hope so.” I leaned over and gave my son a hug. He squirmed away almost immediately, but I could tell he was too thin. I would have Cook serve him larger portions. “But your life shouldn’t change. You’ll continue to live with your Uncle Ukva and Aunt Achti, here in Sura, and study Mishna with Uncle Pinchas until you’re old enough to join Father’s classes.”
“Where will you live?”
“Rava and I will stay in Pumbedita until we finish our studies there.”
“Bibi says Rava is very smart but doesn’t like children.”
Of course Bibi was familiar with Rava, who had been living with Abaye since Bibi was young. “Rava doesn’t have children, so he doesn’t know how to get along with them.”
Chama considered this for a while before surprising me by asking, “Bibi said his father wants me to marry Elisheva, and then we’d be brothers.” He sounded pleased at the prospect and why not? Neither he nor Bibi had an actual brother.
I chose my words carefully. “Abaye mentioned it to me when he was here, but it is your Uncle Ukva’s decision. Before anything is decided, you should see her first.”
“Maybe I could come visit you.” He sounded uncertain.
“I would like that very much.” I hugged him again and this time he hugged me back. “You will always be welcome, whether Rava and I are living with Abaye or in our own home.”
TWELVE
The moon waxed to full and then waned again with no word from Machoza. I wasn’t surprised that Rava’s divorce was taking longer than usual, but I was anxious. No matter how unhappy Choran had been as his wife, I had no doubt she would fight the divorce just to thwart him.
Perhaps I was too distracted by these worries, but whatever the cause, I proved no better at mathematics than I had been when I was a child. Each session spent poring over household accounts with Mariamme, or struggling to make sense of my mathematics tutor’s directions for doing multiplication and division, was more frustrating than the last. Besides worrying why Mari hadn’t returned, I grew increasingly concerned that I might never be able to manage my and Rava’s property.
Thus when I trudged downstairs after a restless night and saw Mari sitting with Rahel, eating bread and porridge like any other morning, I rushed to join them.
“What took you so long?” I scolded him.
He smiled at my anxiety. “I wanted to evaluate how productive your lands were under the different tenants, but I had to wait until Rava was otherwise occupied.”
He began what looked to be a lengthy and tedious description of each property when Rahel took pity on me and nudged him. “This can wait. Don’t keep poor Dada in suspense about the divorce.”
“I thought she’d be interested in the source of all the excellent wine I brought back for her betrothal.” Mari pretended to sound hurt, but his eyes were laughing.
“So Rava is no longer married?” I asked. “Our betrothal banquet will take place as scheduled?”
He nodded. “Although I’ve never seen a woman battle so hard to remain married to a man she hates.” Mari spoke so vehemently that everyone in the room must have heard him, for within moments we were surrounded by a curious audience.
“You may as well tell them now,” Rahel said. “It will save you from having to repeat the story all day.”
“When we arrived in Machoza, Rava went straight to his brother Seoram’s house, explaining that he would not spend even one night under the same roof as Choran and thus allow her to claim that she might be pregnant,” he began. “The next morning Seoram and I watched while he counted out the money to pay her ketuba and verified that it was sufficient.”
I wondered how much Choran’s exorbitant ketuba was worth, but then decided it didn’t matter.
“Rava wanted to write the get in a small local court, where his case would be handled promptly with the least attention. But I convinced him to go before Rav Nachman, despite having to wait a week for the opportunity.” Mari nodded with relief. “We were lucky I was there to take advantage of Father’s name. Otherwise we could have waited a month for an opening.”
“Why Rav Nachman?” I asked. The great scholar headed Machoza’s beit din.
“Of course I wanted them to meet, but my purpose was twofold. One, I thought Rav Nachman would be more sympathetic to another rabbi, and two, I wanted a judge with the authority to prevent Choran from attempting some trick at the last moment.”
“And did she?” came Mother’s melodious voice.
“Eventually. First she tried to delay things by refusing to come to court, but Rav Nachman directed Rava to write the get without her present and declared that one of the court’s agents would deliver it,” he replied. “Rav Nachman assured Rava that with so many witnesses the divorce would certainly be valid, even if Choran was able to evade the agent for a while.”
