Enchantress: A Novel of Rav Hisda's Daughter (26 page)

“Tell me what happened. Perhaps I can effect a reconciliation.” Father’s voice was heavy with concern. Before I was born, Father had inadvertently insulted his teacher Rav Huna. Impolitic words on both sides had led to a years-long estrangement.

“It started when I took Rava’s query to Rav Yosef, who answered that
alalta
pertained to the five species of grain mentioned in Torah,” Abaye said. “Thus Rava would be restricted to income from fields planted with such grains.”

“How did Rava get involved?” I asked. “It sounds like he wasn’t even in Pumbedita yet.”

“When he arrived and I reported the exchange, Rava said that of course
alalta
meant all income. He was concerned about the rents from Bar Shmuel’s ships and houses,” Abaye replied. “Rava wondered if because these properties lose value as they age, their income is not considered
alalta
.”

“I still don’t understand what upset Rav Yosef,” I said.

Abaye sighed. “When his students reported Rava’s words, Rav Yosef complained bitterly that since Rava obviously didn’t need his opinion, he shouldn’t have sent him the query to begin with.”

“Oy,” Father groaned. “Naturally, Rav Yosef felt insulted. What did Rava do to appease him?”

“Nothing. Rava didn’t learn about Rav Yosef’s anger until it was time to leave for Seoram’s house so he and his brother could travel to the wedding together.”

Father shook his head. “Rava should have found the time.”

Abaye handed me several pages of papyrus. “Rava asked me to give you this.”

I went into the garden, where there was better light and no distractions. The first page was a letter, but the others were columns of numbers. In a fine, strong hand, Rava had written: “I send excellent news. Regarding the
alalta
property in Nehar Panya, which Gidel informs me means all the man’s property there, I want to avoid any tie to the place by taking my inheritance in the form of ships, which are easily moved. As further inducement, Gidel has proposed that I join his shipping business. As he is a relative of yours, and since your brother is already in partnership with this family, I see no need to investigate his trustworthiness. In addition, I had Efra make a copy of the mortgaged properties’ accounts, so you may be familiar with them. I suggest that before returning to Pumbedita after our wedding, we spend some time in Machoza so you may meet Efra and inspect our lands.”

I read Rava’s letter again and smiled. I couldn’t imagine a better business partner for him than Pazi’s father. I was pleased that he had decided on the ships, when he could easily have chosen the houses or fields and let his good fortune remain a thorn in Choran’s side.

 • • • 

Pazi and Tazi were bursting with good news as well.

“Father and Mother are coming for your wedding,” Tazi announced. “They sent a special present for you.”

Pazi hugged me excitedly. “Father says Rava inherited a lot of ships and they’re going to be business partners.”

I should have realized such surprising good fortune couldn’t remain a secret, but I was still taken aback by how swiftly the word had spread.

Tazi grabbed my hand. “Come upstairs with us now and we’ll show you their gift.”

“And bring your slave,” added Pazi.

Leuton was already upstairs, sewing the new linens that would soon grace my marital bed.

The twins made me close my eyes, and when I opened them, Tazi was holding up a silvery silk outfit whose iridescent tunic was decorated with a myriad of tiny pearls. It had been over ten years, but I recognized it immediately.

“That’s what your mother wore to Pazi’s wedding.” I couldn’t hide my awe at Shalom’s generosity. “How could she give away something so beautiful?” And so expensive.

“Mother likes new clothes, and this outfit is almost ancient by her standards.” Tazi chuckled.

“That’s not all,” Pazi declared, pointing to the bed.

I had assumed that the mound of sheer fabric that shimmered like moonlight was the matching veil, but there were two different pieces there. One was the veil, but the other definitely was not.

Pazi giggled. “It’s a nightdress, for your wedding night.”

When I picked it up, my hand was quite visible behind the diaphanous material. “This is too beautiful and delicate to sleep in.” Or to use the bed in. Besides, I didn’t intend to wear anything in bed once I was married.

“You don’t sleep in it, Dada. This is for before you get into bed.” Tazi’s giggles turned into guffaws. “And don’t think Rava won’t see it in the dark. People from Machoza like to use the bed during daytime, to be safe from demons.”

“I can’t thank you and Shalom enough, especially as we won’t be family anymore after I’m married.” In a week, I would be a member of Rava’s family, not the one I was born into.

“We’ll be just as close as family,” Pazi declared. “We’ll be in business together.”

 • • • 

Four days before the wedding, we celebrated the first night of Hanukah with more people than I’d ever seen in the villa for the festival. My brothers Yenuka and Keshisha, along with their wives and children, came up from Kafri. I knew not to expect Rav Yosef, but Rav Oshaiya traveled down with a large contingent of rabbis and students from Pumbedita. Accompanying Rava from Machoza were Seoram, Gidel, and Rav Nachman, along with their wives and an unseemly number of slaves. Even Rav Sheshet had come, despite his blindness.

Not that Rava attended any of our festivities. Bride and groom weren’t supposed to see each other the week before their wedding, so he was staying in town with Rav Hamnuna.

Each evening, the villa was ablaze with light. Gidel and Seoram expressed apprehension that magi might come and confiscate our Hanukah lamps, as often happened in Machoza if the flames were visible from the street. Persians deemed fire holy, so our using lamps for a Jewish festival was considered a sacrilege. As far as I knew, magi had never seized any of ours, either because we were too far away from the city to bother with or because Father bribed them. Still, there was enough anxiety to make me long for Hanukah in Sepphoris, where nearly the entire population kindled lamps and placed them on walls to publicize the miracle.

Rava and I would be married on Fifth Day, traditional for nonvirgins, which was also the fifth day of Hanukah. The four days of our wedding celebration—only virgins rejoiced for seven—would coincide with the last days of Hanukah. Since Father followed Hillel’s maxim of increasing the quantity of lights to correspond to the day of the festival, our guests would leave after a night bright with the maximum number of lamps burning.

During the seventh hour of Fourth Day, ruled by the gentle angel Anael, I immersed in the
mikvah
Father had constructed off the canal. A disadvantage of marrying when the nights were longest was that the water was coldest, and I was glad Anael’s propitious hour was at the height of the afternoon. Though Mother and a number of women in my family accompanied me, none of them joined me in the water.

During my widowhood, I’d become accustomed to the hair in my armpits and between my legs. I’d frequented enough bathhouses in the West to observe that women there didn’t remove it. But I was in Bavel, where Rava would expect his wife to eliminate every trace of underarm and pubic hair. Applying the depilatory and submerging my body in the
mikvah
brought back poignant memories of when I’d married Rami, but with a major difference. Then I’d viewed my first cohabitation with dread, not the eager anticipation I felt now as I prayed for Elohim to open my womb to Rava’s seed as He opened Leah’s to our patriarch Jacob.

 • • • 

I dreamed I was climbing a circular stone staircase, similar to the ruined one Homa had shown me in Pumbedita’s city wall. Just outside I could hear shrieks and wild cries, some very close by. Eventually I came to a narrow window, and when I peered out I saw the source of the clamor. Demons, a great many of them, were flying around my tower, their leathery wings held wide as their scaly bodies soared past, searching for a way in.

But their quest was unsuccessful. Soon I was above them, and it was apparent they were unable to reach this height. One by one, they threw themselves unsuccessfully at the small openings in my ramparts, until, screaming in frustration, they disappeared into the night sky.

I woke while it was still dark. Pazi and Tazi, whose husbands were traveling, had volunteered to sleep with me and let their presence protect me from demons. But neither of them even stirred when I got up to use the chamber pot. As I watched the dawn gradually lighten the sky, I wondered who else besides Tobia was sleeping with Rava, for demons were a greater threat to him than to me. Had he dreamed of them too?

Leuton woke next and was soon followed by the twins. Since I was fasting, there was nothing to do except get dressed, a task Leuton and I rapidly completed. My senses were concentrated on my ears as I listened for the musicians who would accompany Rava and his entourage from Rav Hamnuna’s house to mine. It seemed to take forever for Leuton to arrange my hair, since we needed a style that appeared elaborate yet could easily be undone later. I admit I didn’t help by interrupting her to look outside whenever I thought I heard music, only to find the road empty.

When it came time to choose my jewelry, Shalom coughed delicately and, gesturing to a small traveler’s chest, announced that Rava had sent something for me. Of course, he’d used some of his inheritance to buy me a wedding present. I opened the chest and gulped. At the center of a heavy gold pendant hung an enormous pearl, the same pearl I had given him to betroth me. While everyone else oohed and aahed, I worried about what it meant for him to return my betrothal gift.

Suddenly I heard faint strains of music. Within moments I was left alone with Leuton, as everyone else rushed to the courtyard to welcome Rava and the crowd that accompanied him. From the hallway I could hear the hubbub increase, and when the music reached its crescendo, Pazi bounded up the stairs to inform me that Rava was waiting below.

She and Leuton affixed my veil, and though I could easily see through it, they helped me downstairs, stopping my progress when Rava came into view. The musicians quieted as Rava and I gazed at each other. He was dressed in a red silk tunic and trousers so vibrant the wild poppies that blossomed in the Galilee hills in early spring paled in comparison. His dark hair and beard were expertly oiled and curled.

He stared up at me with a mixture of tenderness, awe, and desire so powerful that it was all I could do to walk sedately toward his outstretched hand instead of rushing into his arms. At the last step he took my hand and led me to our bridal table. Everyone remained standing as slaves poured the wine and Father recited the seven wedding blessings. Then the banquet began.

“How do you like the wine?” Rava asked, locking eyes with me and holding up his cup in salute. “It’s from our vineyard.”

“I only have a little experience tasting this vintage, but I do appreciate yours.” I smiled so he’d recognize that I wasn’t just talking about wine.

“It’s merely new wine, of course, but by the time we have old wine, you’ll have a more discerning palate.” His voice was serious but I thought I saw a twinkle in his eye.

I took another sip and licked my lips, noting that Rava’s gaze was now focused on my mouth. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy it even more as I develop a taste for it.”

“I certainly hope so. I mixed your cup the way I drink it, a bit more diluted than most people prefer.”

“Good, I’d rather not be too intoxicated tonight.”

Rava blushed slightly at this, and we turned our attention to the meal, one of Cook’s finest.

“You surprised me with your wedding present,” I said somewhere between a course of roasted calf with leeks and another of goose stew rich with fat globules floating on top. “Your jeweler did an excellent job.”

“I am glad you like it, but it’s not a present,” he said. “Heaven forbid I should return your betrothal gift to you.”

“So you are loaning it to me?”

He smiled and shook his head. “I am entrusting it to you to guard for me. It is my most valuable possession, and I expect you to protect it from harm.”

I reached down and squeezed his hand in joy. Abruptly the music switched from the sedate melody appropriate for dining and conversation to a lively tune guaranteed to get the celebrants on their feet. As the men clapped around him, Abaye entertained us by juggling balls, spoons, and men’s hats, his performance reaching a climax when he pretended to accidentally drop a new turban onto Rava’s head, marking him as a married man.

“My groomsman’s gift to you,” Abaye shouted over the applause.

Next I danced with Mother, who along with Yalta was wearing purple, and then with numerous other female relatives. Soon the floor was a rainbow of multicolored silks as we circled to the music. When the women tired, the men took over, with leaps and jumps and other exuberant athletic efforts. Rav Nachman was unquestionably the best among them, moving with a feline grace. But not like a common housecat. Watching Rav Nachman dance with Rava, I couldn’t help but imagine a leopard, sinuous and supple, yes, but just as dangerous.

So it went—eating, drinking, and dancing, interrupted for Rava and me by guests stopping at our table. Finally slaves brought out the evening meal and began lighting torches. Having done more dancing and chatting than eating, I found the smell of freshly baked bread and succulent roasted duck made my mouth water. Aware of Rava’s gaze upon me, I licked my lips seductively. Soon his eyes were bright with desire.

I could feel my own desire kindling. I slowly bit off a piece of duck. “I hear that roast duck is one of your favorites. I hope it will whet your appetite for the dish you’ll be having later.” I let my hand slip below my table and rest lightly on his leg. “One you’ve never tasted before.”

“A unique dish, you say?” He reached down, took my hand in his and squeezed it.

“It’s a luscious dish exclusive to this house.” I looked deep into his dark eyes. “Scented with labdanum.”

Without taking his eyes off mine, Rava dipped his bread into the peach sauce meant to complement the duck. “This bread is excellent but it doesn’t compare to the bread I’ll be savoring later.”