Enchantress: A Novel of Rav Hisda's Daughter (59 page)

I saw my chance. A patch of quicksand lay a short distance from her and the setting sun was in her face. Hoping the glare would interfere with her ability to detect the concealed, I maneuvered the flames so they drove her into it. Frantically beating at her scorched clothes, Zafnat didn’t realize she was sinking until it was too late.

As much as I hated the woman who had killed my son, I could not watch her burn to death as she sank, screaming, into the sand. I extinguished the fire and fell into Rava’s arms. Zafnat was too panicked trying to climb out to cast any spells, not that she could have enunciated clearly with the sand in her mouth. Even so, I remained vigilant until only her eyes, wide with terror, were visible.

By this time Chama had returned with water bags from where our camels were tethered. He was not severely burned but would wear a scar for the rest of his days. We drank to nearly the last drops, then I conjured more water, and we drank until our thirst was slaked. We were too fatigued to celebrate, but we gazed at each other in quiet satisfaction.

“You were magnificent, Dodi, but you need to rest.” Rava removed his cloak to make a bed for me. “Chama and I will haul the
kashafa
up and remove her teeth.”

My son mumbled something, and a small cloud drifted over to shade us. He and Rava had found times to rest during my ordeal, but I couldn’t wait to lie down and close my eyes. The last thing I heard was Rava telling Chama, “I don’t expect Zafnat will live long after people see that her magic is gone.”

 • • • 

My previous experience with sleeping while riding a camel served me well, for I dozed until we arrived at the cave where our guides were waiting. I headed to the back of the cavern, to relieve myself, and slowly became aware that something was concealed nearby. The feeling was new to me because it didn’t set off a warning. Wary because it was too dark to see what was there, I called for a light.

The area that attracted my attention was merely a jumble of stones, seemingly identical to the cave’s other rockfalls. My companions, obviously, wanted to get as far away as fast as possible, but I insisted we stay to investigate. Rava and Chama exchanged glances and shrugged, so I directed the guides where to dig. Their efforts were rewarded almost immediately when we heard the sound of metal on metal.

In hindsight it should have been manifest that Zafnat’s bandits would hide their plunder nearby, but we could only gasp in wonder at the treasure we unearthed. I felt a shiver of magic as Rava mumbled something under his breath, and I wasn’t surprised when the men immediately agreed that we should take whatever riches the camels could carry, and they could return later for the rest. Without his spell from
Sepher ha-Razim
to influence the guides’ opinions in our favor, I’m sure they would have abandoned us and absconded with the spoils.

Once on our way back to Kafri, Rava refused to keep any for himself. The pouch holding Zafnat’s teeth was the only reward he wanted. We would distribute the treasure among the poor, half in Kafri and half in Sura, the two communities that had suffered most from the years of Arab attacks.

When we arrived at my family’s villa and I removed my cloak, everyone stared at me with such awe that I had to ask, “What are you looking at? What’s wrong with me?”

“Your hair,” Rava whispered.

A mirror was eventually found, and I couldn’t believe what I saw. My hair was now completely white.

 • • • 

No one was more surprised than me when we to returned to Machoza. We had scarcely entered the courtyard when Sama took my hands and pulled me into what was a nearly completed new wing of our home. Everyone gathered around in excitement, and Elisheva whispered something to Chama that made them both grin. As we approached the doorway, Sama insisted I cover my eyes until he gave the signal.

I walked a long time until he called, “You can look now.”

For a moment I was speechless, then all that came out was, “Ha-Elohim, ha-Elohim!”

I stood in the middle of a small but lavish bathhouse. The construction wasn’t finished, and we had interrupted two men laying what would surely be a stunning mosaic floor. The scene was so reminiscent of Salaman’s studio that I was overwhelmed with nostalgia.

Then came my next surprise, when one of the workers approached me and said, “I hope you remember us. I’m Jacob, and down there is my brother Gavril.”

He smiled shyly, and I gasped when I realized that Salaman’s sons were in Bavel, in my house. “What are you doing here? How is your father?” I burst out. “You must dine with us and tell me everything.”

During the meal I learned that life for Jews in the West was even worse than when Zeira left. I was grieved to hear that Salaman had died of one of the many pestilences afflicting Galilee but thankful that before succumbing he’d urged his sons to emigrate to Bavel. Everyone talked about Machoza’s wealth, so that’s where they went. Mentioning Rava’s name yielded directions to our house, where Sama recognized them immediately. Recalling how much he and I had loved bathing, my son hired them on the spot. If Yalta could have a bathhouse under the magi’s noses, so would we.

 • • • 

Over the next twenty years, that bathhouse gave me, my grandchildren, and their children so much pleasure I gladly paid whatever bribes were necessary. Yet greater satisfaction came when I observed Rava and his students examining some animal intestines, each punctured in some way.

“We must be diligent in our inspection,” he warned them. “For if we determine that the animal was slaughtered before the puncture occurred, then it is kosher and fit to eat. But if we decide that the intestine was punctured first, then it is
treif
and the butcher cannot sell it.”

The students nodded soberly. No rabbi wanted to cause an unnecessary financial loss. It was bad for the community and made people disrespect the Rabbis.

“See here.” Rava took a punctured intestine and made two holes next to the original perforation. “See how different my new holes look from the other one. This indicates that the first puncture did indeed occur prior to slaughter.”

“Wait,” objected our son Mesharashay. He picked up the intestine and rubbed the new holes vigorously, after which they looked just like the original.

Instead of getting angry at being corrected, Rava smiled proudly. “Where did you learn this clever procedure?”

“I just thought of it,” Mesharashay replied. “I realized that many hands had rubbed that puncture before it came to you, and a comparison would only be valid if similarly handled.”

Rava beamed and gave our youngest son a hug. “My son is as wise in the ways of
kashrut
as Rabbi Yohanan.” Then he continued: “Your brother Joseph was also wise concerning the laws of kosher slaughter.”

I gulped in amazement. I had never heard Rava mention Joseph to his students before, let alone praise him. Sama and Chanina exchanged surprised glances.

“How so, Father?” Mesharashay asked.

“A kitchen slave once brought a goose to me to examine because its neck was stained with blood, thus presenting me with a dilemma.” Rava paused and asked, “Which was?”

Chama promptly answered, “If you slaughter the goose and then examine its esophagus, your cut might obscure the defect. But since you can only examine the esophagus from the inside, doing so while the goose is alive will kill it in a nonkosher manner and render the meat unfit.”

Rava waited patiently but none of the students had a solution. Eventually he said, “Joseph told me to inspect the goose’s trachea from the outside, and if it was undamaged, to slaughter the goose by severing its trachea alone, then remove the esophagus from the carcass and examine it.”

Mesharashay looked up at Rava. “And was the goose kosher?”

“It was. And quite flavorful if I recall correctly.”

Shortly after, when I found an opportunity to pull Rava into my workshop, I put my arms around him and kissed him hard.

He looked at me in wonder. “What was that about?”

“I am so glad I married you.”

“Not as glad as I am,” he said with a smile.

After that, my sons reported that Rava began quoting Joseph regularly, especially cases in which Joseph had disagreed with him.

 • • • 

Looking back, I could never understand why the older I got, the faster time passed. That year in Pumbedita before Rava and I became betrothed had felt interminable, yet now it seemed that no sooner did we dismantle one year’s sukkah than it was time to build another.

My memory was no longer so excellent as in the past, but I put my disability to good use by employing Grandfather’s well-worn codex to teach Mishna to my granddaughters and their daughters, and thus refreshed my own learning. I discovered the pleasure of teaching Torah according to each girl’s capability. My greatest joy was when a frustrated and discouraged student sat before me as I perceived her difficulties—what she’d overlooked, what stubbornly eluded her—and I explained to her until her eyes lit up with comprehension.

In all that time, I only summoned Ashmedai once, which was to propose a new way to force demons to leave my clients alone. “What if a
charasheta
were to inscribe an incantation on her bowls using the rabbinic divorce formula, something like this: ‘Rabbi Yehoshua ben Perachia has declared that a
get
has come to you for your banishment, sent by the hand of holy angels. Hear, obey, and leave the house of so-and-so and not return to them from this day and forever’?”

His face darkened and he gnashed his teeth in frustrated fury. “How do you know about Yehoshua ben Perachia’s
get
?” he shrieked.

“You must answer my questions, not vice versa,” I reminded him, gloating that Rava had told me about this early rabbinic sorcerer. With the many demon names Ashmedai had provided, I could now inscribe them in the demon divorce decree—a small recompense for the misery he’d given Rava and me.

“Are you quite done with me?” the demon king snarled.

I nodded. “Indeed this is the last time I shall summon you. I am bequeathing King Solomon’s ring to my son Chama.” It was quite rewarding to see how leaving Ashmedai in the control of a rabbi learned in both priestly magic and the secret Torah made him even angrier than asking about Yehoshua ben Perachia’s
get
.

 • • • 

To my great relief, Hannah told me that after the one time she’d summoned Ashmedai, when she compelled him to grant her family the same protection Mother had received, she vowed to never contact him again. It made me proud to see how wise she’d become under my tutelage, certainly wiser than me.

After I displayed Zafnat’s teeth to the
charasheta
council, my authority was never again questioned as it had been after Joseph’s death. I used my prestige to persuade my colleagues to take on apprentices. Between all the demons plaguing humanity and all the envious people provoking the Evil Eye, there were more than enough clients for our services.

Citing the shortage of
charasheta
in Pumbedita as an example, I also encouraged my colleagues to emigrate to other cities where their expertise would be valued highly. I urged them to ensure that their daughters were literate and to marry them to rabbis who would be supportive of their work. With the Notzrim taking over Eretz Israel, it was imperative that the rabbis and
charasheta
worked together to strengthen the Jewish community in Bavel.

Ifra and I spent many pleasant hours together comparing the petty, and not so petty, intrigues we dealt with. Who would have imagined, when the magi crowned him in her belly, that her son’s subjects would call him King Shapur the Great? And who could have imagined that I would be advising Rava on how best to convince his skeptical synagogue audiences to accept the Rabbis’ authority and follow their teachings?

I understood that, with Heaven’s gifts of a powerful voice and the persuasive ability to exploit it, it was my husband’s destiny to spread rabbinic interpretations of Torah, not just to his students, but to the entire community. My proudest moments came when he taught one of my favorite Baraitot, one both simple to follow and requiring no great Torah learning.

“On Erev Shabbat two angels accompany a man from the synagogue to his home, a good one and an evil one. When he arrives home and finds the lamp burning, the table set, and his bed made . . .” Rava always paused and smiled at the words “his bed” so everyone recognized that he was alluding to the man and his wife using the bed later.

Once he saw that people understood his meaning, he continued: “The good angel then exclaims, ‘May it be thus on the next Shabbat,’ and the angry evil angel must respond ‘Amen.’ But if he arrives home and things are not in readiness, the evil angel exclaims, ‘May it be thus on the next Shabbat,’ and the unhappy good angel must respond ‘Amen.’”

When a congregation was receptive, which was often, he explained the blessings to welcome Shabbat as well as the procedure and blessings for Havdalah, the ceremony to mark its close. In this way Shabbat would be a day of joy for them, not merely one without work or light.

 • • • 

Rava’s most repeated teaching concerned a more somber topic. “When man is led in for Judgment he is asked five things.” That statement always brought them to attention. “Did you conduct your business honestly, did you make fixed times for Torah study, did you engage in procreation, did you hope for salvation, did you delve into wisdom and understand one thing from another?”

It was more than gratifying when his students began reporting that they’d heard those words as part of their local Yom Kippur services. It gave me hope for the future.

My own Day of Judgment was increasingly on my mind. It was easier for me to sit than to stand, and harder for me to hear what people said. Food seemed to have lost its flavor, and my body often ached with no apparent injury. Each day I went to sleep earlier and woke later until at last I rarely rose from my bed at all. It suddenly became important to ask forgiveness and say good-bye.

I saved the two hardest for last.