Enchantress: A Novel of Rav Hisda's Daughter (17 page)

“I should have thought of it myself.” He stood up and grinned. “Now I would like to see my son.”

Abaye spent the rest of that day, and the next, with Bibi and Chama. When it was time for him to leave, he took me aside. “Rava is due to visit Choran next Shabbat,” he whispered. “I will do what I can to have him stop here first.” Then his voice rose to a normal level. “I am impressed with Chama’s grasp of Torah. I know it is still early, but I would like you to consider him betrothing my daughter.”

Chama and Elisheva? Both learned, both of priestly descent. And only males were subject to Eli’s curse, not daughters. Yes, that could be a good match. Abaye had been clever. If anyone asked me the purpose of his visit, I could say it was to discuss a future betrothal between our children.

 • • • 

If Abaye was successful—please, Elohim, let him be successful—Rava should arrive on Fifth Day, two days after I immersed. Though I knew I should not appear eager, I climbed up to the roof, where I would have a good view of the road from Sura.

At midmorning the road was no longer empty.

Calling for Leuton, I raced downstairs to my bedroom. “Hurry now. Fix my hair and makeup.” I put on the outfit I’d chosen the night before, tailored from linen so fine that with the sun behind me, my silhouette would be visible. “Then find my labdanum perfume and anoint me.” I was so nervous my hands were shaking.

My agitation was contagious. “What’s happening, mistress?” Leuton’s voice rose with excitement.

“Rava will arrive any moment. Bring him to me in the etrog orchard, just beyond the gate.”

“Not the garden? There’s no place to sit in the orchard.”

I shook my head. Too many of my arguments with Rava had taken place in the garden. I didn’t want those unpleasant associations to taint today’s meeting.

“Serve him our finest wine, not beer.” Rava disliked date beer so much that he had once been rude enough to declare that he would rather drink flax water, notorious for its stench.

She raised her eyebrows, but replied, “Yes, mistress.”

“And bring us the ripest apricots and peaches.” There was nothing else to do but go outside and await him.

I chose a shady spot between the etrog and pomegranate trees but near enough to the gate that Rava would see me as soon as he entered. It wasn’t long before the door swung open and he stood before me. He was breathing heavily, and beads of sweat dripped down his neck from his beard and disappeared beneath his damp tunic. I had hoped he would smile or show some sign of pleasure upon seeing me, but I was unsurprised when he did not. Did I imagine it or did he look nervous?

“Come into the shade.” I beckoned him. “I’ve ordered wine for us, well watered, and some fruit. If you are hungry, I can ask for something more substantial.”

At that moment Leuton entered, carrying a tray with a jug of wine, two cups, and a large bowl of apricots and golden peaches. Another slave set up two benches and a table.

Rava licked his lips but replied, “This will be more than adequate.”

I poured the wine, leaning close so that Rava would be sure to smell my perfume. “I assume Abaye asked you to speak to me.”

“It was more a demand than a request, but yes.”

“Very well, I am listening.”

Rava downed his wine and reiterated Abaye’s arguments, concluding with, “You would be an ideal wife for him. Your father is a great Torah scholar, and you too are learned. You are fertile . . . and beautiful.”

I blushed and recalled that Abaye had not praised my beauty. “These qualities would make me a good wife for other scholars as well.” I stood and looked into his eyes, dark as black olives. “But no matter how desirable you make me sound, Abaye prefers to marry Homa.”

“Homa can’t possibly match your fine qualities.” He stood up too. “It wouldn’t matter if she did. Homa is a
katlanit.
”

“I happen to know she is not,” I said firmly. “I have sworn not to reveal my proof, but you and Abaye may be assured that she bears no responsibility for at least one of her husbands’ deaths.”

Rava looked at me skeptically. “Even if Abaye does desire Homa now, it would be a mistake for him to marry her. There is no comparison between you and Homa.”

“I disagree, but you and I are both aware that Abaye’s priestly heritage is a curse, not a blessing.” Rava would find it difficult to refute me on this point.

But he had an answer. “The Chaldean foretold that your second husband would have a long life if you married him in winter. If you married Abaye, the curse could be broken.”

“You would have me take such a chance, especially when his death would mark me as a
katlanit
?”

Rava started to speak but I refused to let him interrupt. “Last year you saved my life, but how little you care for me now. Not only would you let me risk another widowhood, with all its unhappy consequences, but you would have me marry a man who prefers another woman.” My voice rose in anger and I stepped closer to face him. “Do you have any idea how miserable I would be, knowing my husband wished he were married to another? Do you?”

“Do I? Do I?” His face flushed with fury. “My wife never lets me forget how miserable she is because I—” He stopped in dismay as he realized what he had just admitted.

I gazed into his eyes and prayed that he comprehended my meaning. “Knowing this, you would have Abaye, who is like a brother to you, marry a woman who prefers a different husband?” I said the last two words with some emphasis.

His eyes were questioning, but there was a glimmer of hope.

“Wait here,” I told him. “I will only be gone a few moments, but you are not to move from this spot until I return.”

It was time to turn Mother’s advice into action.

TEN

I
raced through the garden, then upstairs to my room, where I found the pearl Father had given me before I married Rami. Father had used it, along with a lump of charcoal, to teach my sister and me that a woman should keep some things hidden from her husband, so he wouldn’t become bored with her. His advice had worked with Rami, but Rava needed a different approach.

He was pacing when I opened the gate, but he stopped abruptly when he saw me. I noted with satisfaction that the bowl of fruit was empty. He should respond more favorably if he wasn’t hungry. I walked toward him in such a way that the sun would briefly shine behind me, and the way his eyes widened showed that he had noticed, and appreciated, the view.

I stopped less than a cubit away from him. “Hold out your hand. I have something for you.”

Much to my relief, he did as I asked. My heart began to beat faster as the critical moment neared, and my hand only shook a little as I placed the pearl in his. “Please accept this. Use it to pay Choran’s
ketuba
.”

Rava’s eyebrows rose, and he stared back and forth between my face and the pearl in astonishment. I began to fear that he would refuse my gift out of pride, when his hand closed over it. “Thank you. I accept it.”

This was what I’d been waiting for. I reached out and placed my hand over his. “Behold, with this jewel, you are consecrated to me as my husband, and I am betrothed to you as your wife.” I smiled when his jaw dropped with surprise, for he had surely recognized the rabbinic marriage formula.

He remained silent for some time, gazing down at my hand clasped over his, until a slight smile played around his lips. “You know the Sages teach that only a man may betroth a woman, not she him. They would say you have accomplished nothing.” He emphasized the word “they,” and then carefully put the pearl in his purse.

It took only two steps for me to reach him and slip my arm around his waist. Then I laid my head against his shoulder and said softly, “You are undoubtedly an expert on invalid betrothals. Would you say I have accomplished nothing?”

I could smell his musky masculine odor, mixed with the scent of wine and apricots, as he put an arm around me and murmured, “I’d say you have accomplished everything. But why?”

Why did I want to marry him? Because he was brilliant and devoted, because thinking that he no longer wanted me had made me more miserable than I could have imagined, because it was my fate. But I knew what answer would please him best.

“When the Chaldean said I would have five more sons, I wanted them to be yours.”

He put both arms around me and pulled me close. “As do I.”

It might have been hours that we stood there embracing as the south wind swirled gently around us. There would be more to say later, but now we savored the sweetness of this moment, all the sweeter because we had waited so long for it.

There was a discreet cough outside before the gate slowly swung open. Rava tried to step back, but I kept my arm around him. Ours would be no secret engagement.

It was Leuton, who hastily suppressed a grin before averting her eyes. “It is close to midday, mistress. Your mother asks if Rava will be dining with us.”

“I can’t stay,” Rava protested. “I have to get to Machoza before Shabbat. Choran will . . .” He let out his breath in a huff. “Obviously I will no longer be visiting Choran on Shabbat. But I must still hurry to Machoza to begin the divorce process.”

“Surely you can stay for the meal,” I countered. “Besides, you can’t leave without talking to Father.”

“Come.” He pulled me forward. “This time we must speak to him together.”

“Wait, I ask one thing more of you.” I turned to Leuton. “Tell Mother we will be there shortly.”

When we were alone, I looked up at Rava, whose eyes were more curious than anxious. “I want you to kiss me.”

I expected him to comply eagerly, but instead he said, “On the mouth?” He sounded shocked.

“If you think we should wait until we are properly betrothed . . .” I let him hear my disappointment.

“No,” he said hastily. “It’s not that. It’s just . . . I’ve never kissed . . .” He trailed off in embarrassment.

“In all these years, you never kissed Choran?”

“Of course I have kissed her, just not on the mouth,” he replied. “Her nursemaid was Persian, as were most of her family’s slaves, so she was brought up to think that saliva was a kind of excrement. Merely the idea of mouth kissing disgusts her.”

“So you never did.”

“I am not the kind of man who would force his wife into acts she finds repulsive.”

That was good to know, but now I had to banish any further thoughts of Choran. “Would you like to kiss me?” I had stepped back when our discussion began, so I now closed the distance between us and lifted my head to make my intent clear.

To my relief, instead of answering he bent forward and placed his lips on mine. But it wasn’t really a kiss, more as if he was resting them there while he considered what to do next. Before I could show him there was more to kissing than that, he pulled away.

 • • • 

Father and nearly my entire family were in the
traklin
when Rava and I entered. Every face looked up in curiosity as we approached Father, and I could hear the excited hubbub as the three of us walked out together.

“So?” Father’s eyes twinkled as he gazed at Rava expectantly.

Rava cleared his throat. “Rav Hisda, Master, I ask your permission to begin betrothal negotiations for your daughter.”

Father turned to look at me. “I’d say her permission is more important than mine.”

I took Rava’s hand and faced Father. “I have asked Abba bar Joseph to marry me, and he has consented.”

Father chuckled as Rava turned red. “It appears my daughter has accepted her fate.” Then he grew serious and turned to Rava, who still wore a married man’s turban. “I assume you have initiated divorce or will do so shortly.”

“Yes, Master.” Rava hadn’t studied in Sura for years, but he addressed Father with the reverence a Torah student owes his teacher. “I will go to Machoza as soon as the meal is finished.”

Father held up his hand. “There is no need to leave so soon. Nothing can be done until after Shabbat, so you may as well spend it with us.”

I smiled with relief. Rava and I would have three days to enjoy our newly won happiness.

Father threw his arm around Rava’s shoulder. “Now is the time to eat and celebrate. Negotiations can wait.”

Instead of heading for his seat, Father waited just inside the door. The room promptly quieted so he could speak. “You might think I am too old to produce more sons, but that is not the case.” He grinned widely. “I have just learned that Rava will soon acquire my younger daughter as his wife.”

He may have wanted to say more, but pandemonium broke out as my family clapped and shouted its approval. My brothers and nephews went further, making a din with their metal plates and utensils. Rahel and Pazi rushed to embrace me.

Mother followed more sedately, but her shining eyes and lengthy hug conveyed joy and relief. Before we separated, I whispered, “Thank you,” and kissed her cheek.