Enchantress: A Novel of Rav Hisda's Daughter (8 page)

The women exchanged anxious looks before the elder answered, “Of course.”

“Do you consult the stars at all in your work?” When they looked at her in confusion, Em explained, “For example, some herbs are best picked in certain months and some potions must be prepared during specific hours or phases of the moon.”

Shadukh shook her head. “I was taught that the time the bowl is inscribed does not affect its power, and since we fast before the installation, we prefer to do them in the morning, just prior to the midday meal. Of course, we never write or install a bowl on Third Day.”

“Or on Fourth day when it coincides with the fourth, fourteenth, or twenty-fourth day of the month.” Rishindukh twirled her spindle. “Or when there are fewer than four days left in the month.”

I added this to my store of knowledge and thanked Heaven that last Fourth Day, when I’d inscribed all those amulets, had not fallen on any of those inauspicious dates.

“Perhaps we should call upon the angels who rule the installation day and hour?” Shadukh suggested.

Rishindukh gathered her spinning supplies and stood up. “We must consult the Chaldeans—only such expert astrologers would know.”

When the gate closed behind them, I turned to Em. “Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael are the angels I invoke against the evil dream demons. Do you think it would help if I inscribe Issi’s bowls during the second and third hours tomorrow?” Raphael ruled the second hour that day and Gabriel ruled the third.

“I don’t see how it could hurt. Then you could install the bowls between the third and fourth hours on First Day.”

I nodded. The hours were earlier than I would have liked, but they were also ruled by Raphael and Gabriel. Since I usually began to bleed in the late afternoon or evening, I was unlikely to be impure yet. There was one thing that worried me. This would be the first bowl I’d done in four years, since going to Eretz Israel. Would the angels still answer me after all that time? Would the demons flee when I expelled them?

 • • • 

The next day I was up before dawn, and when the second hour began, I already had four small pottery vessels of similar size set up in the garden, on a table that got good morning light. I unpacked my quills and ink, and set to work. Luckily the incantation against the demons and evil spirits that brought bad dreams was a short one.

I picked up the first cup and started writing at the top inside edge. “Sealed and doubly sealed are the house and threshold of Issi bar Aspenaz from the demons,
devs
, satans,
ruchim
, and evil liliths that appear during the night and during the day and appear to Issi bar Aspenaz when he sleeps. Sealed with three signet rings and doubly sealed with seven seals in the names of Gabriel, Michael and Raphael. Amen, amen, amen. Selah. Hallelujah.”

Though the
kasa d’charasha
was small, I had room at the bottom to draw a demonic figure, its arms and legs bound by chains. I repeated the inscription and drawing on the second cup and the third. By the time I finished the final vessel, I had acquired an audience.

Slaves paused briefly from their wheat grinding to watch me work, and Babata stopped by on her way to the privy, but most persistent was Abaye’s daughter, Elisheva.

Her eyes widened when I explained what I was doing, but then her face fell. “I wish I could read and write, but Father doesn’t have time to teach me, and Mother doesn’t know how.”

“A rabbi’s daughter should be literate,” I complained to Em later. “Can’t Abaye hire a tutor for her?”

“It wouldn’t be proper for a man to be alone with her to teach her,” she replied. “If Babata has a boy, Elisheva will be able to learn along with her brother. That’s how I learned.”

And if Babata had a girl, both sisters would be illiterate.

 • • • 

I was greatly relieved to wake up on First Day and find that I had not yet begun to bleed. That relief faded when not only Em but also Rava and Abaye prepared to accompany me to observe the installation.

I was used to installing
kasa d’charasha
before groups of strangers in Sura. But since few bowls were used here, I’d expected only a small number of spectators. Obviously the word had gone out about this new
charasha
procedure, because the entire neighborhood was waiting for me, blocking the gate.

Before I could say anything, Rava, in his most commanding voice, announced, “Everyone must stay well away, to avoid danger from fleeing demons.”

A space opened for us to walk through, but he had to repeat his warning several times before most people had retreated to the safety of their homes or the courtyard’s periphery. That was when I saw her, the woman on the boat. She had managed to find a place near the gate, with a good view of the house. Something made me look away rather than give her a friendly nod.

Once Aspenaz showed me where Issi slept, I directed Leuton and Em’s slave to dig the shallow holes. As each was finished, I encouraged Issi to watch as I turned one of the cups upside down, placed it at the bottom, and covered it with dirt. After the final hole was filled, I donned my
charasheta
’s white linen robe and veil.

As I’d done many times before, I closed my eyes and banished all thoughts of my human audience. Then I stood tall, lifted my arms, and prayed that the angels would hear and grant my request. My skin began to tingle, and when I looked down, the slaves were huddled at my feet.

The time had come to recite the incantation.

At my first installation, back in Sura seven years before, I had been astonished by the vigor and authority that had issued from my throat when I’d addressed the unseen world. Now I felt more relieved than surprised by my dominion, as the cowed demons fled before me and the angels I’d summoned.

As the incantation drew to a close, my strength slipped away. Yet my voice did not weaken as I concluded, “Amen, amen. Selah. Hallelujah.”

Fighting the urge to look for the unknown sorceress, I kept my eyes on Issi while the slaves helped me out of my white clothes. Loud enough that he could hear, I told Isaac, “Be sure that you and the boy recite both the Hashkivenu and Shir shel Negaim before he goes to sleep from now on.”

Isaac nodded reverently and led me to the place of honor at a large dining table. Gradually, wary neighbors came out to join us for the early midday meal. I searched for the woman from the boat, but she was gone.

FOUR

“Thank you for controlling the crowd,” I told Rava, as he and Abaye left for Rav Yosef’s after the meal. “I never imagined it would be so big.”

He shrugged off my gratitude. “I watched you in Sura, so I knew what to say.”

“At first I thought Rava was exaggerating your prowess,” Abaye said, his voice full of admiration.

“Very impressive,” Em said. “With only two women doing this in Pumbedita, no wonder everyone came to watch.”

I waited for Rava to offer some words of praise, but instead he said, “I’m going directly from Rav Yosef to Rav Oshaiya today. So I won’t be there for the evening meal.”

The one person’s approval I wanted, I didn’t get.

 • • • 

When the next day’s services were over, Homa gave me a fierce hug. “Issi slept so well last night that my brother says you were worth every
zuz
he paid you.”

I made sure to look more confident than relieved. “I’m pleased to have helped.”

During our meal, Homa regaled Babata and Elisheva with what I considered an overly vivid description of my exhibition the day before. I blushed at her enthusiasm, but inside I was filled with pride. It was good that Homa had lost her shyness.

Afterward, she took me to Millers Street, which for some unknown reason was marked by signs with cats on them. Though the docks were only a short distance away, Homa refused to go there. “When it comes to harassing women, dockworkers are the worst,” she explained. “I’d rather go to Bakers Street and see what pastries are left.”

I grinned, for I could smell Bakers Street from a block away. “I assume we’re not just going to look at them.”

Homa introduced me as the enchantress who had driven the demons away from her brother’s house. To my embarrassment, all sorts of sweet cakes were promptly thrust upon us. I cringed at being unable to decline without insulting the bakers, who refused to accept any payment.

“In the future, be careful how you introduce me to merchants.” I made my voice resolute. “People mustn’t think I’m trying to obtain goods without paying for them.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist telling them about you.”

Homa said nothing more until we neared her home. “I wish I had a respected profession like yours. Especially since I’m not likely to have another husband or more children.”

I squeezed her hand in sympathy, but before I could say anything, she turned to me, an eager look in her eyes. “Could you teach me to be a
charasheta
? I know how to read and write.”

I tried to let her down gently. “It requires more than being literate.” I searched for the right words. “A
charasheta
has to be favored by the angels if they are to do her will.”

Homa might have been unlucky, but she wasn’t stupid. “I understand. My
mazal
is so wretched I would probably attract demons instead of making them flee.”

I suddenly thought of Elisheva. “Can you read and write well enough to teach someone?”

She looked at me with a puzzled expression “Yes. I’m teaching my daughter already.”

“Could you take another student? Abaye’s daughter?”

“She is about the same age as my Dorti, so I suppose I could teach them both.”

“Then, I will ask him tonight.” I could scarcely contain my enthusiasm.

 • • • 

As I’d expected, Abaye was agreeable, but Rava certainly wasn’t.

Homa must have noticed his displeasure as well, because when she arrived on Sixth Day, she said to Em, “Perhaps it would be better if Dorti and I left early so my presence won’t disturb Rava when he and Abaye review their studies.”

Em sighed. “It has nothing to do with you. This is the Shabbat when Rava visits his wife in Machoza.”

Homa looked at her in confusion. “But isn’t he eager to . . .” Her voice trailed off.

Babata explained it diplomatically. “Some men are less fond of their wives than others.”

“And some wives have such a high
ketuba
payment that their husbands can’t afford to divorce them even if they are not fond of them,” Em said, summing up the situation.

“Surely he is eager to see his children,” Homa said.

I shook my head. “They don’t have any.”

“It is just as well they do not.” Em’s voice was grim. “Rebellious and evil children are the result when a man cohabits with a woman he hates or forces, one he fights with or has decided to divorce, or when he is thinking of another.”

“I don’t understand how he can continue to lie with a woman he dislikes so much,” Babata said, blushing. “I mean, a woman who dislikes her husband can just lay there and try to think of something else. But a man must feel some passion if he is to harden properly.”

True, none of us were virgins, and thus we knew very well what Babata meant, but only Em remained unaffected. Homa turned beet red, and I could feel my face flaming. The last thing I wanted to think about was how Rava managed to use the bed with Choran.

Thankfully, Em changed the subject, though it was one no more pleasant to contemplate. “Most men don’t make the same mistake Rava did, and thus they can divorce a wife they dislike. Women have no such option, which is why I never remarried. I couldn’t find a suitor I liked well enough to risk having to stay with him no matter how our marriage turned out.”

Homa brushed the crumbs off her tunic. “I must get back to my students before they finish their assignment.” She headed to the garden, where the girls were writing on wax tablets.

I followed Em to her workshop and watched carefully as she ground a portion of asafetida in vinegar. The herb stank horribly when removed from its tightly sealed jar, but grinding it with vinegar lessened the stench considerably. Amazingly, its unpleasant odor disappeared entirely when cooked, and it imparted a garlic-like flavor instead.

But Em didn’t employ asafetida merely as a spice. Prepared a special way, it was a remedy for intestinal diseases and colic in children. Another formula, often used by female slaves, kept a woman from pregnancy or caused her to miscarry. The difference was subtle but important. Too weak and a promiscuous slave would avoid belly aches instead of pregnancy, too strong and a colicky baby would die.

 • • • 

By the following Shabbat, Rava’s mood had improved, probably because, like everyone in Pumbedita, he was thankful rain had fallen the night before. I was also thankful that he acquiesced without complaint when I asked him to direct me to the docks.