Enchantress: A Novel of Rav Hisda's Daughter (6 page)

Em nodded eagerly. “I would like to hear those as well.”

“As would I,” Babata added shyly.

Despite Rava’s intimidating scowl, I managed to think of a Baraita that Em and Babata would appreciate. “While still in the womb a light burns above the baby’s head and he looks and sees from one end of the world to the other,” I began. “There is no time when a man enjoys greater happiness, for it is written in Job, ‘Oh that I were as the months of old, the days when Elohim watched over me.’”

I gave Babata a smile. “And which are the days that make up these months? The months of pregnancy, when the fetus is taught all the Torah from beginning to end.” I tapped the area between my nose and lips before saying, “But as soon as he emerges into the world, an angel slaps his mouth and causes him to forget all his learning.”

Abaye grinned. “So that is why we have this little indentation there.”

I waited for Abaye and Rava to repeat the Baraita several times, until Abaye held up his hand and addressed Rava. “If she has more to teach us, let’s have them all now, before my wife goes to bed. You and I can learn them later.”

“I know three more,” I said. Once on the subject, I had recalled other Baraitot easily. “There are three partners in a child: the Holy One, his father, and his mother. His father supplies the white seed that forms the bones, sinews, nails, the brain in his head, and the white in his eye. His mother provides the red seed that forms his flesh, hair, blood, and the black of his eye.”

I particularly liked the beginning of this teaching, since it contradicted the Roman view that the man’s seed contained everything and the woman was only a vessel.

The Baraita continued: “The Holy One gives the spirit and breath, understanding and discernment, facial features, eyesight, the power of hearing, and the ability to speak and walk. When a man departs the world, the Holy One takes away His share and leaves the father’s and mother’s shares with him.”

Em sighed in appreciation, and for a few moments Rava’s scowl disappeared. But his forehead knitted when I began speaking again.

“Come contrast the power of the Holy One with that of humankind. When a person puts something in a sealed bottle whose opening faces upward, the stuff might be preserved or it might not. However, the Holy One fashions the embryo in a woman’s womb, which is both open and whose orifice is turned downward, yet there it remains until birth.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Abaye said. “The fashioning of a child is remarkable.”

Rava was not impressed. “Does your final Baraita have anything useful to teach or is it merely another story?”

I was so stung by his harsh words that I shot back, “I expect Abaye will find it more useful than you do.” I stared him in the eye and continued, “It was taught that a woman who emits her seed first will bear a male, and if a man emits his seed first she will bear a female, as it is written in Chronicles, ‘The sons of Ulam were mighty men and had many sons and grandsons.’ But how is it in a man’s power to produce sons and grandsons? They restrained themselves during cohabitation so their wives would emit seed first, and thus ensured male children.”

Babata covered an embarrassed giggle with her hand while Abaye chuckled and said, “That Baraita will be useful in the future, but it can’t help me now.”

Rava was red with anger, but he contained himself until Em and Babata were upstairs. “You couldn’t remember a single Baraita that dealt with legal issues?” he accused me, his voice as sarcastic as when he used to attack Rami.

I was about to reply in kind, but thinking of Rami made me remember how he had urged me to pity Rava, whose animosity came from living with an unloved, barren wife. That being even truer now, enduring one pregnancy Baraita after another would surely pain him.

Being cruel to Rava was the last thing I wanted to do, so I made my voice apologetic. “Abaye asked me specifically about pregnancy, and those are the Baraitot that came to mind.”

Abaye put his hand on Rava’s arm. “Not all Baraitot concern themselves with matters of law. We should be pleased with any teachings Hisdadukh brings us.”

I didn’t want to be caught in their argument, so I got up to leave. But Rava pointed to the cushion and imperiously gestured to me to sit. “Useful or not, we still need to learn these. This means we need you to stay and listen until we can recite them without error.”

I took out my hand loom and continued where I’d left off in weaving the red silk ribbons my clients used to secure their amulets. Then, smiling inside, I recited the first Baraita again. Rava had admitted to needing me for something. It was a start.

 • • • 

The next morning, Em took me aside in the herb garden. “You are here to study with me.” Her voice was unyielding. “If Rava’s presence is going to interfere with that, then I can ask him to find lodging elsewhere.”

“No!” I protested vehemently.

Em gazed at me shrewdly. “I won’t send him away if you don’t want me to.” She paused as I relaxed. “Would you like to tell me what happened between you two? Perhaps I can help.”

“It’s a long story,” I replied, already wondering what to share and what to conceal.

She took my arm, and we headed toward her workshop. “Periodically I check my potion ingredients, to see if any have gone bad or lost their potency. It is an exacting, never-ending task that will be more pleasant with company.”

Inside, tall shelves held every sort of covered container—glass bottles, small woven baskets, and clay vessels in many shapes and sizes.

“This is where I left off at my last inspection,” Em announced, lifting the cover of the first pot on the right. She sniffed the contents, apparently satisfied. “I want to work efficiently, so lessons will come later. Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

“I suppose my difficulties with Rava started when I was a child and he came to study with my father.” I girded myself to tell the embarrassing story speedily and succinctly. “One day in class, Father called up Rami and Rava, and then asked me which one I wanted to marry.” I still had trouble explaining the next part, so I hesitated.

Em smiled. “Your mother told me that you answered, ‘both of them,’ and that Rava then declared he’d be the last one.” She earned my gratitude by not questioning that audacious reply.

“So I became betrothed to Rami.”

Em placed a pot on the workbench. “Abaye told me that Rav Hisda’s classroom discussions were quite vehement at times.”

“The two of them argued constantly, with Rava attacking Rami’s reasoning at every opportunity.” I grimaced at the memories. “I could see that Rava would be a great scholar, but the way he tried to humiliate Rami made me so angry.”

Em uncorked a bottle, and the room filled with a vile odor. She shoved the stopper back in and muttered, “How could it go bad so fast? What a waste.”

“You can’t imagine my shock and outrage when, barely a year after Rami died, I received a visit from Rava’s wife—who informed me that she would continue to run the household after I became his second wife.”

Em gasped. “Ha-Elohim!”

“I ran, crying, to Mother, who explained that Rava had gone to Father to betroth me while I was in the West. Father had no idea I hated Rava, only that ten years earlier I had said I wanted to marry the man.”

“So Rav Hisda arranged your betrothal,” Em said softly.

“And I repudiated it. Then when Rava insisted on knowing why, I lost my temper and accused him of sending the snake that bit Rami.”

Em realized that she still hadn’t opened the jar she’d picked up. She hurriedly sniffed its contents and replaced it. “What happened next?”

“Rava contritely offered to withdraw his proposal and, in order to remove any doubt over our invalid betrothal, write me a
get
.” Em’s eyes widened when I mentioned Rava’s willingness to give me a bill of divorce, but she remained silent.

“Then, to my astonishment,” I continued, “he begged me to save him from public shame by not telling anyone I’d rejected him. If I granted him two years before he had to write my
get
, he would share Rami’s words of Torah and not let them be forgotten.”

“And being a credulous young woman, you agreed.” Em’s words were a sad accusation.

“Is that why you thought we were a couple when we arrived here together?” I asked.

“It wasn’t just that. I’m a good judge of people, and you were a couple.” Em raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Yet you fled Bavel to get away from Rava, whom you had even more reason to hate than before. What happened in the West to change your opinion?”

“I started inscribing amulets in Sepphoris even though there was a local
kashafa
who didn’t brook any competition,” I replied. “I thought I’d be gone before she heard.”

Tears filled my eyes as I remembered poor Yehudit, whose death had resulted from my folly, and I needed some time to compose myself. “Eventually this evil woman sought me out and cursed me. As it happened, Rava arrived to find my daughter already dead and me barely alive, not that I was aware of his presence in my delirium.”

My voice dropped to a whisper. “I kept dreaming that Rami was calling me to join him, but Rava would prevent me. Finally I dreamed that they fought with swords until Rava knocked Rami’s away and held his own to Rami’s throat.”

“Go on,” Em urged me, her eyes wide.

“Suddenly I saw it wasn’t Rami whom Rava had defeated, but Samael, the Angel of Death.” I shuddered at the hideous memory. “When I woke, my fever broke at last. Rava was there at my bedside. He’d been there, praying for my recovery, for weeks.”

“Ha-Elohim!” Em breathed out the words. “I know Rava’s been studying the secret Torah with Rav Oshaiya, but I had no idea he’s become so powerful he could fight off the Angel of Death.”

“That’s not all. After arranging Yehudit’s burial, he went to the
kashafa
and accused her of being responsible for the girl’s death. The next morning she was dead from a scorpion bite.”

“So he knows how to curse people too,” Em said with awe. “I can see why you changed your mind about him.”

I hastened to complete the tale. “On our return to Pumbedita from the West, we studied Mishna together. It was wonderful.”

“Your blushing cheeks do not come from recalling Torah studies,” she chided me.

Now my face was flaming. “Our caravan stopped for Shabbat at an oasis about a week east of here, one with hot springs and a few bathhouses.”

“I’ve heard of it.”

“This was my last chance to bathe before we reached Bavel. To obtain some privacy, I lied and said I needed to immerse.”

Em gazed at me through narrowed eyes. “I’m not sure I want to know what happened next.”

“I went back to our empty tent, intending to rest, when Rava surprised me. He immediately noticed my wet hair and the labdanum perfume I’d been oiled with. So he recognized that I was no longer
niddah
.” I began speaking faster, to finish before Em could interrupt and scold me. “Em, the way he looked at me, the desire in his eyes . . . I was flooded with a passion I hadn’t felt since Rami died. We stood there, staring into each other’s eyes, in that hot tent, until Rava dropped his cloak to the floor. But instead of embracing, we looked down at his
tzitzit
accusing us of following our lustful urges.”

I sighed as the memories flooded back. “We stepped away from each other, and Rava went back outside. From that night on, I’ve wanted him in my bed.”

“Don’t worry.” Em put her arms around me. “No man can vanquish his
yetzer hara
. And for a great scholar like Rava, it would be easier for a camel to fit through the eye of a needle.”

“I can’t wait years while he fights one battle after another.”

“Rava is a stubborn one. He was even stubborn as a child. Yet even he will see the futility in such a constant struggle.”

“You knew Rava as a child?” I asked eagerly.

“Yes, he came to us after his mother died.”

Now I remembered that Abaye was actually Em’s nephew, that his father had died before he was born and his mother shortly after, while Em didn’t have any children of her own. “What was Rava like when he was younger?” I asked.

“Besides being stubborn, he was the most brilliant student my husband ever taught. His memory was very good, although not as good as yours, from what your mother says, but he understood things very quickly.”

“Abaye wasn’t jealous?” I asked.

“Abaye has always been the sweetest, most gentle fellow,” Em said proudly. “Until Rava came, he had nobody near his level to study with.”

Now I understood why Rava never criticized Abaye, as he had Rami and the others in Father’s classroom.

Em smiled. “I remember him sitting with Abaye before my husband, who asked them to whom we pray. When they replied, ‘The Merciful One,’ he asked them where the Merciful One dwelt.”

“How did they respond?” I didn’t know how my own son, Chama, would answer the question.

“Rava pointed toward the rafters, while Abaye went outside and gestured toward the sky. My husband told them that they would both grow up to be rabbis. Later, when Rava’s voice changed . . .” Em sighed deeply. “I realized that the Holy One had given him two magnificent gifts, surely granted for some divine purpose.”

“You know him well, Em. Can you explain why, if he indeed still wants me after all these years, he is fighting his desire now that he’s so close to achieving it?”

“The longer a man has desired a thing, the harder he works for it, the more worried, perhaps even frightened, he becomes as his goal comes within reach.”

THREE