Enchantress: A Novel of Rav Hisda's Daughter (53 page)

It was good to see Mari and Rahel again, although it was sad to confront the reality that he and Tachlifa were the only two of my seven brothers still living. An unexpected guest was Rav Zeira, who announced he was moving here permanently. He was openly skeptical that Rava, who had begun speaking at synagogues the
amei-ha’aretz
frequented in hopes of influencing them favorably toward the rabbis, would have any effect whatsoever.

Yalta was too ill to attend, having suffered one sickness after another. Each one left her more debilitated than the last, yet she refused to die. I admit I was ambitious to assume her position, but I was in no hurry to take on the challenge of controlling Zafnat. I was content to wait and begin Hannah’s next level of
charasheta
training.

Meanwhile everyone in Bavel was waiting for King Shapur to reach his majority and seize the reins of power. Shortly before his sixteenth birthday, the young king married his half sister Shahrzad, who was six years his senior. Thus in one stroke he both pleased the magi and avoided antagonizing any particular noble house by marrying into another. Ifra gave me such glowing reports of her son’s intellectual and physical prowess that I would have attributed them to a mother’s pride if Adurbad hadn’t reported similar praise for him to Rava.

My ravens faithfully reported on Tachlifa’s travels, and to my relief, his caravans never encountered Zafnat’s raiders. It seemed they too were waiting.

The only one not waiting was Constantine of Rome. Zeira, and his many colleagues fleeing from the West, were in despair that the emperor had adopted the Notzrim’s upstart religion. The position of Israel’s Jews reached a new nadir when Constantine made himself the sole ruler of Rome and his faith the sole religion. At once their bishops and priests declared the Notzrim the New Israel, asserting that with the destruction of the Holy Temple, our covenant with Elohim had been broken and our claim to the Land forfeited.

Making this clear, Constantine’s mother, Helena, with unlimited access to the imperial treasury, traveled to Jerusalem to recover holy relics. Powerless, our people watched with dismay as she ordered the ruins of the Holy Temple torn down and began erecting churches. Immediately charlatans began finding so-called relics in these excavations, so many that Zeira complained every street vendor was hawking “nails of the crucifixion” and “wood from the true cross.” But the ultimate blow to the Western rabbis was the closing of their last school of Torah learning.

Despite the turmoil in Eretz Israel, only one topic concerning Rome seemed to make people’s tongues wag in Bavel: Prince Hormizd, sixteen years after escaping from prison, had suddenly surfaced in Roman territory.

 • • • 

A year later Persian anxieties subsided, as Constantine was fully occupied building a new capital city on the banks of the Bosporus. While some worried that this gave him easy access to the Euphrates frontier, Adurbad and other magi were not concerned. The new capital would be more convenient to spy on.

My apprehension, however, sprang from Yalta’s precipitous decline. Desperate to learn the curse spell she used to restrain Zafnat, I invited myself to dine with her. I arrived to find her thin and pale, lying on her couch. But her eyes were clear and her voice was firm.

“What do you want?” Yalta never liked polite but empty conversation and was not going to indulge in it on her deathbed.

When I was equally direct, her eyes narrowed. “According to Ashmedai, you only summoned him once. What makes you think you can possibly restrain my daughter?”

“I told Ashmedai not to divulge any more of our meetings.” I noted Yalta’s eyes widen with surprise. “But if you want proof that we have spoken many times, I will have him give it to you.”

Yalta looked at me with new interest. “You are stronger than I believed, and evidently more discreet.”

“To keep Zafnat out of Bavel, I must prepare a curse bowl and install it in a cemetery near the border,” I said. “But I need your help to inscribe the proper incantation.”

“I can provide the spell,” she replied scornfully. “But you will find it insufficient.”

“Ashmedai has informed me what else is needed, and I know how to procure it.” I made myself sound self-assured.

“How is it you have the king of demons eating out of your hand?”

I remained resolute to keep King Solomon’s ring secret. “You have underestimated my discretion again.”

“I admit I was never eager to have you as a student, but I won’t hinder you now.” She proceeded to teach me the spell.

Once I had what I needed, I stood up to leave.

“Wait,” she called out. “Let me give you some advice before you become head sorceress.”

Stunned, I swallowed hard and sat down. “Doesn’t the entire council have to agree on your successor?”

“Em is too old to travel, but she has already endorsed you, as have Rishindukh and Shadukh. And nobody else is willing to challenge Zafnat. I had hopes for Donag once. . . .” Yalta trailed off wistfully.

Then her expression hardened and she began a litany of things I should know. Most were political techniques to keep the
charasheta
in line, many of which I knew from hours spent around her table or listening to Ifra’s palace intrigues.

But then Yalta insisted on teaching me two new spells that, while impressive, didn’t seem too useful. It was unlikely I would want to detect concealed passages or traps, and as for needing to create food or water, that eventuality seemed even more remote. My head was spinning from learning I would be the next head sorceress, but I managed to repeat the “reveal hidden” incantation to her satisfaction and then conjure up a small loaf of bread.

 • • • 

In less than a week Yalta was dead and the council elected me their leader. It gave me immense pleasure to inform Rava, who proudly declared that he never doubted I would be chosen as Yalta’s successor. I was even more pleased when he informed Chama, thus validating that my son was sufficiently learned in esoteric Torah to be trusted with the secret. But while I appeared confident and self-assured, I knew my position depended on my successfully performing one daunting task.

So shortly after the sorceresses finished observing Shiva for Yalta, I traveled to Pumbedita, ostensibly to visit Joseph and Em. Of course I was glad to see them, but my true purpose would be performed in this city near the desert’s edge, at the grave of a young child. My first step was to summon Ashmedai and have him command a privy demon to bring me some of Zafnat’s feces. Menstrual blood I obtained from one of Abaye’s daughters.

Then, during the first hour on Third Day, with both the day and hour under the influence of Mars, I put away my apprehension and prepared the curse bowl as Yalta had instructed. Later that night, when the moon was in Scorpio, I entered the cemetery. The
shaydim
bowed before my authority and stayed back as I made my way to bury the bowl at the grave of Bibi’s little boy.

I recalled as if it were yesterday how terrified I had been when I assisted Tabita in burying the curse bowl that laid Rami’s mother low. How my heart pounded with fright, every rustling tree branch made me jump, and I cringed as I sensed the demons surrounding us. But tonight, wearing King Solomon’s ring, I felt my heart pounding with excitement as the demons fled from me. The shadows cast by trees in the pale moonlight were just shadows, and the
ruchim
of the recent dead who followed me were curious, not hostile.

I stood up straight, stretched out my arms toward the moon, and murmured the incantation slowly and carefully, yet in such a low voice that no human who heard me would understand my words. Then I stood there in silence, trying in vain to discern a difference.

 • • • 

When I returned home for Shavuot, I was eager to tell Rava what I had done. But before I could speak to him privately, Chama took me by the arm and propelled me to Rava’s study.

My son was bursting with pride and exhilaration. “Mother, you will not believe what Rava and I have done.” Rava gave him a mock look of disapproval, and Chama corrected himself. “Actually, Rava did it, but I helped him a little.”

Not even when we became betrothed had I seen my husband so elated. “What are you talking about? What have you done?”

“Since you were away, I decided to study those procedures from Maaseh Bereshit that require abstinence from wine, meat, and sexual relations. One day I realized I could modify the procedure Rav Oshaiya used to create a calf for Shabbat . . .” Rava paused for emphasis. “To create a man.”

“And he did, Mother,” Chama burst out. “It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Ha-Elohim!” I gazed around anxiously. “Where is it?”

“I sent it to Rav Zeira,” Rava replied. “I knew he’d appreciate it.”

I steadied myself against the door. What in Heaven had my husband done? And my son had helped him.

“Don’t worry,” Chama said. “I followed and spied on Rav Zeira as he asked it several questions and received no reply. I could see Rav Zeira growing more and more suspicious until he finally declared that this was a scholar’s creation and ordered it back to its dust.”

“Rest assured I have no intention of creating another one,” Rava declared.

“Does he know you were responsible for it?” I asked.

“Probably, for who else could be?” Rava didn’t smirk, but he sounded like he wanted to. “He hasn’t mentioned it, so neither have I.”

“And that’s not all he did.” Chama smiled broadly. “Tell her about what Queen Ifra sent you.”

Rava shrugged. “It was nothing extraordinary.”

“Tell me,” I insisted. I never imagined Rava would be doing anything extraordinary while I was away.

“She was looking for a rabbi with expertise in examining bloodstains to determine if they were
dashtana
or not,” my husband began. “Rav Zeira declined, saying that only those who spent their lives in Bavel are so knowledgeable.”

I rolled my eyes. “So she sent one to you.” I knew how concerned the Persians could be about menstrual impurity, but I didn’t think they went to this extreme.

Chama nodded. “And he correctly identified it as the blood of desire and ruled it
tahor
.”

“Adurbad told me that King Shapur happened to be there and scoffed, saying I had stumbled on the right answer by chance,” Rava said indignantly. “So she sent me sixty different samples of blood, and with the guidance of Heaven, I correctly identified fifty-nine. Only one baffled me.”

“Heaven certainly guided him,” Chama said. “For along with his answers he sent her a fancy comb to kill lice, and it turned out the unknown sample was blood from a louse.”

“So Adurbad informed me,” Rava said. “The queen not only praised my wisdom to the court, but sent two oxen as peace offerings to be sacrificed and the meat given to the poor.”

“Maybe King Shapur will appoint Rava as a court adviser like King Achashverosh did for Mordecai,” Chama suggested.

“Heaven forbid.” Rava shuddered. “Isn’t it enough that the
amei-ha’aretz
flout my efforts to bring them to follow the Rabbis’ teachings? Do I need the Persians to ignore my advice as well?

 • • • 

After two years of attending synagogue with Rava when he addressed a congregation, I saw he was right about the many people who paid him little heed. Most were
amei-ha’aretz
, ignorant of the Rabbis’ teachings and content to remain that way. But a growing minority consisted of actively antagonist
apikorsim
, whose rallying call was, “What use are the Rabbis? They study Torah only for themselves, and we receive no benefit from their learning.”

Rava privately admitted this was true for too many scholars, but in public he argued that without a
beit din
the Jewish community would cease to function. His fiercest opponents were the family of Benjamin the Physician. They loved to present him with challenges such as, “What good are the Rabbis? They cannot change Torah to permit the raven or prohibit the dove.”

My husband persisted, responding, “See, I have permitted a raven for you,” when they brought him a suspected
treif
animal to inspect and he permitted it. And when he found a defect that forbade the animal, he’d say, “Note that I am prohibiting a dove to you.”

Yet with his deep, resonant voice, people listened when he spoke at synagogues, even if they didn’t agree. They nodded thoughtfully when he informed them that for everything the Merciful One forbade, He permitted something similar, such as permitting a divorcée while her husband lived but forbidding a married woman, and permitting a woman with
dam tahor
after childbirth but not a
niddah
. S
hibuta
fish was a good substitute for pork, and liver instead of blood. For those who desired the taste of meat with milk, there were roasted udders.

But his audiences were skeptical when he explained how they should at least rinse their mouths with a piece of bread or mouthful of water between eating meat and dairy, and they didn’t care that a pious man would not eat both at the same meal. Some laughed outright when he sought to convince them why the Rabbis prohibited eating fowl and dairy together.

Still he persevered. I tried to help by reminding him of Baraitot that offered simple ways the
amei-ha’aretz
could implement the Rabbis’ innovations. Salaman in Sepphoris had liked saying blessings over food, so I encouraged Rava to include in his lectures the Baraita that taught, “It is forbidden to derive benefit from this world without reciting a blessing, for it is as if he took consecrated Temple property for his own use.”

Rava would continue by asking, “What is the remedy if a man sins by eating without blessing?” and then answering, “He should go to a sage.”

A student planted among the congregation would then protest, “Why go to a sage? He has already committed the sin. What can a sage do for him?”

Rava would reply, in his most mellifluous tones, “He should go to a sage who will teach him the blessings. Then he will not come to sin again.”