by Maggie Anton
325 Shapur II crowned king of Persia; Roman Palestina becomes Christian and its Torah schools are closed.
339 Abaye dies; Rava remains at Machoza school to become senior Sage of all Israel.
350 Jerusalem Talmud complete.
361 Julian the Apostate becomes emperor of Rome, declares war against Persia, and begins to rebuild Temple in Jerusalem.
363 Earthquake in Israel destroys Sepphoris and partially built Temple in Jerusalem; Rome defeated at Samara, death of the emperor Julian.
380 Christianity established as Rome’s official religion.
400 Yazdgerd becomes king of Persia, marries Jewish princess, and inaugurates golden age of Sasanian kingdom.
424 Rav Ashi dies; redacting of Babylonian Talmud begins.
425 Rome abolishes office of Nasi (patriarch).
500 Death of Ravina, head of Sura school and last Sage named in Babylonian Talmud.
570 Birth of Mohammed.
630 Rise of Islam.
638 Omar captures Jerusalem; Jews allowed to live there for first time in nearly five hundred years.
642 Palestina, Syria, Egypt, and Babylonia fall to Muslim Arabs.
650/700 Stammaim (anonymous editors) produce the final form of Babylonian Talmud.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Abba bar Joseph (b.270)—a.k.a. Rava. Rav Hisda’s student, Hisdadukh’s suitor
Abaye—Rav Hisda’s student
Achti (b.269)—Hisdadukh’s older sister, wife of Ukva bar Chama
Alista—funeral keener in Sura
Amemar—tenant farmer on Hisdadukh’s lands in Sura
Ami—rabbi in Eretz Israel, heads school in Tiberias
Assi—rabbi in Eretz Israel, heads school in Tiberias
Avahu—rabbi in Eretz Israel, heads school in Caesarea
Bahram II—king of Persia (274–293 CE)
Beloria—wife of Hisdadukh’s brother Pinchas, basket weaver
Chama (b.291)—son of Hisdadukh and Rami bar Chama
Chanina—Rabbi Avahu’s son, in Tiberias
Claudia—wife of Roman centurion, God-fearer in Sepphoris
Choran—wife of Abba bar Joseph, in Machoza
Devora—wife of Hisdadukh’s brother Yenuka, in Kafri
Diocletian—Roman emperor (284–305 CE)
Em—Haviva’s friend, enchantress in Pumbedita
Eliezer—Yochani’s son, in Tiberias
Ezra—amulet maker in Caesarea
Galerius—Roman general under Diocletian
Guria—Yenuka’s daughter, wife of Hisdadukh’s brother Keshisha
Hanan (b.255)—Rav Hisda’s son and third-oldest child, brewer
Hanan bar Rabbah—Hisdadukh’s grandfather, Haviva’s father
Haruta—Imarta’s daughter, slave-potter
Haviva—Hisdadukh’s mother, wife of Rav Hisda
Hisda—Babylonian rabbi, judge on beit din in Sura
Hisdadukh (b.275)—Rav Hisda’s daughter and youngest child, nicknamed Dada
Huna—colleague of Rav Hisda, heads beit din in Sura
Imarta—Rahel’s slave, pottery maker
Jacob—runaway slave, tutor for Rav Hisda’s grandsons
Josiah—cosmetics peddler
Judah Nesiah—patriarch, ruler of Eretz Israel’s Jewish community
Julia—wife of Roman centurion, God-fearer in Sepphoris
Kartir—Persian high priest under King Bahram
Keshisha (b.272)—Rav Hisda’s son and second-youngest child
Kimchit—amulet maker in Sura, Hisdadukh’s teacher
Leuton—Hisdadukh’s maidservant
Mari (b.259)—Rav Hisda’s son and fourth-oldest child, flax dealer
Mariamme—wife of Hisdadukh’s brother Hanan, household treasurer
Nachman (b.251)—Rav Hisda’s son and second-oldest child, judge
Nachman bar Jacob—colleague of Rav Hisda, heads beit din in Nehardea
Nanai—Achti’s daughter, named for Pushbi’s mother
Narseh—king of Persia (294–302 CE)
Nehemiah—exilarch, ruler of Babylonia’s Jewish community
Newandukh—Hisdadukh’s friend from synagogue
Pazi—wife of Hisdadukh’s brother Tachlifa, weaves silk
Pinchas (b.263)—Rav Hisda’s son and fifth-oldest child, brewer
Pushbi—widowed mother of Ukva and Rami bar Chama
Rabbah bar Huna—Rav Hisda’s student, son of Rav Huna
Rahel—wife of Hisdadukh’s brother Mari, inscribes magic bowls
Rami bar Chama (b.268)—Rav Hisda’s student, Hisdadukh’s husband
Reish Lakish—Rabbi Yohanan’s study partner in Sepphoris, Yochani’s father
Salaman—mosaic-floor artisan in Sepphoris
Samuel—Tachlifa’s business partner and brother-in-law
Shapur—king of Persia (240–270 CE)
Shayla—wife of Hisdadukh’s brother Nachman, healer
Sheshet—blind colleague of Rav Hisda in Nehardea
Simeon—Yochani’s son, merchant in Tyre
Susanna—Rabbi Avahu’s wife in Caesarea
Tabita—Haviva’s friend, enchantress in Sura
Tachlifa (b.266)—Rav Hisda’s son and fifth-oldest child, merchant
Tazi—Pazi’s twin sister, Samuel’s wife
Timonus—Rav Hisda’s steward, captured Roman soldier
Ukva bar Chama—Achti’s husband, Rami’s older brother
Valerian—Roman emperor (253–260 CE)
Yalta—Rav Nachman’s wife, exilarch’s daughter
Yehezkel—son of Keshisha and slave Zahra, raised by Achti and Ukva
Yehudit (b.294)—daughter of Hisdadukh and Rami bar Chama
Yenuka (b.248)—Rav Hisda’s son and oldest child, brewer in Kafri
Yochani—Hisdadukh’s friend in Sepphoris, daughter of Reish Lakish
Yohanan—Yochani’s rabbi uncle in Sepphoris, Reish Lakish’s study partner and brother-in-law
Yosef bar Hiyya—Rav Hisda’s colleague in Pumbedita
Zahra—Hisdadukh’s maidservant
Zeira—Rav Hisda’s student
PROLOGUE
I have always been blessed with a good memory. This gift from Elohim, which has allowed me to memorize the entire Torah and Mishna, as well as a myriad of incantations and spells, has also given me knowledge and power of the unseen world. Because of this, I am considered a wise woman by many in Babylonia: Jews, Zoroastrians, and enchantresses of both religions. And especially by my husband.
My knowledge, my memories, and my friendship with Queen Ifra Hormizd allowed me a voice at court as well, albeit a small one. The Persian nobility and Zoroastrian priests, called the Magi, respect me, and some even consult me on occasion.
But a good memory may also be a curse. I will always carry the burden of seeing the beloved husband of my youth stolen away by the Angel of Death before we’d been married five years. And the agony of losing a cherished child at the tender age of four, a budding blossom never to bear fruit.
It pains me still to think of these things.
Even as a girl I found it easy to remember, though my strongest memory from childhood is one I’ve heard retold by so many people that I don’t know where their stories stop and my actual recollection begins. Father, Grandfather, my brothers, and of course Rami and Abba, each had a slightly different account of what happened. Even Mother had her own version, although she only heard about it from Father.
I must have been about nine years old, sitting next to Father as he taught Torah. It was almost time for the midday meal when Rami bar Chama and Abba bar Joseph approached him. As Rami and Abba were his two best students, the others gathered around to hear what questions they had for the master.
Instead, Father put his arm around my shoulder and asked me, “Which of these two do you want for a husband?”
To this day I don’t know if I was a prophet, as Abba believes, or as my older sister, Achti, maintains, a greedy little girl presented with a choice of swee
ts. I do recall that I was astonished by Father’s question. Naturally I’d expected him and Mother to choose a husband for me as they had for my sister, as all caring parents do for their daughters. Even if he had wanted to take the unusual step of consulting me, I could never have imagined that he would do so in public, in front of the candidates themselves.
But judging from the mouths that dropped when I replied, my astonishment was nothing compared to everyone else’s.
For when I looked up at Father, the words that came out of my mouth were, “Both of them.”
Father’s eyes were questioning, but not angry. The silence that followed stretched out until Abba finally responded, “I want to be the last one.”
And that is what came to pass.
PART ONE
KING BAHRAM’S REIGN
• (283–292 CE) •
ONE
TENTH YEAR OF KING BAHRAM II’S REIGN
• 283 CE •
I recall very well when Abba first came to study with Father. We lived in Kafri at the time, a largish city located on the southernmost tributary of the Euphrates River, whose population consisted almost entirely of Jews. Rami was already a student in our home, which was to be expected since Achti was betrothed to his brother, Ukva.
Fear has a way of fixing memories strongly in place, and for years afterward my stomach tightened whenever I thought of those nerve-racking days.
I sensed that something was wrong when Mother burst into my and Achti’s kiton, our bedroom, while we were still getting dressed. It was not her way to burst in anywhere; Mother’s usual entrances were calm and deliberate. Most days I didn’t even see Mother until the midday meal, and sometimes not even then since I still had to eat with my brothers’ children and their nurses.
“Girl,” Mother addressed Achti’s maidservant. “Pack my daughter’s things, bedding included, and move them into Pinchas and Beloria’s kiton.” She turned to my nurse and added, “The same for Hisdadukh.”
She scowled when the two slaves hesitated. “Move them now, Achti and Hisdadukh can braid each other’s hair.”
“But, Mother, Beloria’s baby will keep me up all night.” Achti, whose name meant “my sister,” was fourteen, almost six years older than me. Yet she whined like a toddler. “Can’t I stay with Yenuka?” Yenuka was our oldest brother, whose wife, Devora, wouldn’t be having their baby for several months.
“Devora’s sisters and their families will be sharing her kiton.” Mother’s voice was curt. “In fact, relatives will be staying with all your sisters-in-law.”
Evidently more people were going to be staying in our room. “Can I sleep on the roof, then?” I asked timidly. I loved nighttime on the roof, with its twinkling stars and cool breezes. I could feel the angels watching over me.
Mother hurried to the door. “Absolutely not. That is where the men will be sleeping.” Then she was gone, her jasmine perfume trailing in her wake.
Originally our house had only two floors, like everyone else’s, but when my elder brother Keshisha, Mother’s seventh son, was born, it became clear that there would be a need for more room once the older ones started families. So Father built a third story on top of the second, making our house one of the tallest in Kafri. Nurse said I could climb to the roof before I could walk, and that she would always find me there whenever I disappeared.
Not that I was always trying to hide from Nurse, rather that the roof was the best place to see what lay beyond our courtyard walls—walls I never passed through except to attend synagogue. From its heights I could watch workers in Father’s date groves, merchants and farmers bringing produce to market, shoppers coming and going from the souk, or porters loading and unloading barges on the Hinde Canal. On a clear day I might spy Saracen nomads in the western desert or boats on the Euphrates River in the east. Even during the hottest days of summer, there was usually a breeze.
I sighed with resignation. My connection to the outside world was severed, and who knew when I’d be allowed up there again?
Something was wrong. Just last year our house had overflowed with guests for my brother Pinchas’s wedding to Beloria, but this crowding was too sudden, and Mother was clearly not in a celebratory mood. By week’s end so many cousins and cousins of cousins had arrived that Mother made all the slaves sleep in the courtyard.
Father soon acquired a number of new students whose homes were far from Kafri: Zeira and Abaye from Pumbedita, Rabbah bar Huna from Sura, and of course Abba bar Joseph from Machoza. Abba, who at thirteen was just old enough to be obligated to perform mitzvot, was short and wiry, with big eyes, a small chin, and a child’s reedy voice. I had only seen a monkey once—when Father took us to visit the exilarch’s court for Sukkot, a noble lady there had one as a pet—but Abba immediately reminded me of that monkey. Not that he was bad looking. To the contrary, he was an attractive boy. But he had a restless energy that demanded constant movement, and he seemed to be taking in everything with those big eyes.
Rami, who was slightly younger than my brother Tachlifa, had been studying with Father for years. He was one of the oldest students who wasn’t one of my brothers. He was taller than the others too, as tall as Nachman, my second-oldest brother, with a pleasant, resonant voice. Rami’s best features were his perfect white teeth and how his face seemed to light up whenever he smiled. Rami was an excellent student, sharper than my brothers, and it seemed to me that he would make a great rabbi. Yet there was a keenness to Abba bar Joseph’s questions that made me think he might be more brilliant than any of them.
Nobody would discuss whatever was upsetting everyone, and I was too frightened to ask. Ominous signs were everywhere. Women with worried expressions whispered furtively to one another, only to abruptly separate when I approached. We used to have meat, or at least fish, every day, but now there were days when only the men ate it, and even days when all we had was bread and vegetables. Father always took pride that his family and slaves both ate bread baked from fine wheat flour, but now the slaves’ bread was made from coarse flour. And after a while that changed to barley.
I finally found the courage to ask Devora about our finances. Yenuka ran our family’s brewery business for Father; that is to say he was responsible for brewing and selling the date beer. But his wife, Devora, was treasurer, keeping the accounts and seeing that bills were paid. I hated to interrupt as she wrote in her ledgers, but she was never alone otherwise.
“Devora.” I kept my voice steady. “May I ask a question?”
She looked up in annoyance and my heart sank at the thought that she’d send me away. But instead she sighed and said, “If it’s a quick one.”
I took a deep breath. “Has Naval attacked our family and chased Nakid away?” Naval was the Demon of Poverty, Nakid the Angel of Sustenance.
“Of course not. Whatever makes you think that?”
“We don’t eat as well as we used to.”
Devora smiled wanly. “Don’t worry, Dada. Nakid is still blessing us, and in fact we are selling more beer than ever. It’s just that there’s less food in the souk to buy these days.” She promptly returned to her work.
Dada was what my siblings called me, all because Keshisha couldn’t pronounce Hisdadukh properly when I was born. I wanted to ask why there was less food, but Devora’s action was a clear dismissal and I slunk away knowing little more than before. I was so frustrated that I grabbed a fly swatter from the kitchen and headed for the garbage pit in the courtyard. In addition to making baskets, Beloria also wove reeds into sturdy devices for killing flies and other noxious insects that served the Corpse Demoness, Nasus.
Fearsome Nasus was responsible for death, decay, and impurity in corpses, excrement, and people—especially women. They said that Nasus took the form of a giant fly, which was why flies were the most reviled among her minions. Killing them decreased the amount of evil in the world, and provided me with an outlet for my aggravation.
As usual, there was a cloud of flies hovering over the pit’s c
over. Not as many as around the privies, but swatting flies was sure to disturb whoever might be using them. I took careful aim, and, thwack, I brought down three in one blow. I kept at it until I managed to kill six at the same time, and by then I was feeling a little better.
One place I knew I wouldn’t learn anything was during lessons with our tutor. Keshisha had moved up to study with Father two years ago, leaving Achti and I behind with our nieces and nephews. The curriculum was the same as when I started: reading and writing in both Hebrew and Aramaic, with the Torah as our text, plus some occasional arithmetic. All subjects I had memorized by last year.
Achti didn’t mind helping the little ones with their learning, but I was so bored that I tried to escape whenever I could. Usually I fled to the roof, but if Grandfather was in the traklin, the large room where adults took their meals and Father taught from the Mishna, the compendium of Jewish Oral Law, then I was assured a place either on Grandfather’s lap or on the cushion next to him.
The traklin floor was littered with feather-stuffed cushions, so many that every diner, even guests, could have their own. During his classes, Father’s status as teacher meant he sat on three cushions, while his students only got one. Normally Grandfather’s position as father-in-law granted him three cushions at meals, but here in class he acquiesced to Father’s authority and sat on two.
These days Father was teaching from Tractate Bava Batra, the volume of Mishna that dealt with injuries, damages, and other such complicated legal subjects. Because of all the new students, he began with an explanation of his teaching methods.
“Despite the circumstances, I am pleased to see so many new faces before me. I expect that all of you have studied, and hopefully memorized, the Mishna, even if you’re not quite sure what it all means,” he said with a smile. “That is our task here, to recite and repeat, and then to discuss and analyze until everyone, including me, understands its meaning.”
He paused to let this sink in. “For some of you, what I say next will be new, but do not let it dismay you,” he said gently. “In truth, the Mishna does not contain the entirety of Oral Law, which was given to Moses on Mount Sinai along with the written Torah. In addition to those teachings compiled in Mishna, our Sages in Eretz Israel taught many other things. These additional sayings are called Baraita, and though they are outside the Mishna, they are equally authoritative.”
