Apprentice

by Maggie Anton

  That late-summer day the weather was so nice that the looms were set up in a shaded area of the courtyard. I could hear the regular slaps of uncooked loaves landing on the hot oven, and I breathed in deeply the mouthwatering smell of baking bread. Beloria and Rahel were already weaving when I came outside, and as always I was amazed at how two women with the same coloring could look so different. Both had dark wavy hair and olive skin, but Beloria was as short and awkward as a child, while Rahel was tall and graceful like a palm tree.

  They exchanged glances before Rahel moved over to Mother’s loom and motioned to me to take her place. I felt more relieved than offended, since Mother had been weaving a delicate fabric using the thinnest thread, where even a small imperfection would be noticeable. As much as I enjoyed Father’s classes, I felt more comfortable with women. Once I sat down and we were all busy weaving, Rahel and Beloria resumed their chat.

  “Did Pinchas say anything about how long it would be until the house is ready?” Rahel asked Beloria. My brother had just returned from Sura, where he and Hanan were making sure all was in readiness for the new brewery.

  “He said that they’re plastering, so it should be soon,” Beloria replied. “He and Hanan hope that we can move in after Sukkot, so they can make beer from the dates here in Kafri in addition to those in Sura.”

  I had to interrupt. “We’re going to make beer twice?”

  Beloria nodded. “That way Yenuka will have beer to sell here while the rest of us are in Sura.”

  I gulped down my disappointment. Nobody had told me that our family would be divided, that Yenuka and Devora were staying in Kafri. And Sukkot was only a month away.

  “I heard that most of the slaves will remain in Kafri,” Rahel said. “The younger ones, that is. Shayla plans to free the old ones at the New Year and then buy replacements in Sura.”

  I stared at the circle of maidservants sitting in the courtyard, grinding wheat in time to the songs they sang. It was grueling labor, twisting pestle against mortar from before sunrise through midday, until there was enough flour for all that day’s bread. Though I had already thanked Elohim in morning prayers for not making me a slave, I thanked Him again.

  The Mishna said that if a bride provides only one slave as her dowry, that slave grinds grain, bakes bread, and does laundry instead of the bride. And if she provides two slaves, the second one cooks and nurses the children. Apparently women too poor to bring even one slave as a dowry didn’t marry.

  But Father told us that this Mishna was contradicted by a Baraita, which taught that a wife is only for beauty and for having children, and thus not for tasks like grinding and baking that could mar her appearance. I was surprised that he’d made no attempt to resolve the contradiction between the Mishna and Baraita, for if a wife was only for beauty, what happened to the women who brought less than four slaves as a dowry?

  So I’d questioned Grandfather, who explained that while there was usually some way to reconcile opposing views, occasionally they belonged to two such prominent Sages that both opinions stood. According to Grandfather, Father agreed with the Baraita, which meant that Achti and I would certainly receive four slaves as part of our dowry. Those who followed the Mishna and supplied fewer slaves, their brides did the work themselves.

  “But what about the slaves I brought when Pinchas and I married?” Beloria protested. “And what about Pinchas’s old nurse, who cares for our children? He’s quite attached to her.”

  “Surely it’s to your advantage to have new young slaves,” Rahel replied. “You’ll get more years of work out of them than if you keep the old ones. As for your husband and his nurse, he should speak to Shayla himself.”

  “I suppose so,” Beloria said. “But I want to keep my personal maidservant. It took a long time to find one who does my hair exactly the way I like it.”

  “I’m looking forward to finding slaves who are skilled potters. We’ll need hundreds of jars for all the beer we’ll be brewing in Sura, and they must be strong and sturdy.” Rahel paused and grinned. “The slaves and the jars.”

  My sisters-in-law must have forgotten I was there, because Beloria looked up at Rahel and said, “I wonder if Yenuka and his sons will start bedding the slave girls once he becomes head of his own household.”

  “Mari told me that Yenuka used to lie with slaves when Rav Hisda was away studying, at least until he married Devora.” Rahel leaned over and whispered, “That’s why he didn’t become a rabbi.”

  Curious about my brother’s youthful indiscretions, I forced myself to sit perfectly still so they’d keep talking. Beloria continued with, “I expect that Devora will keep a sharp watch on her husband and sons.”

  “That’s one advantage of old slaves over young ones,” Rahel said. “And of course experienced cooks are always best.”

  “Speaking of cooks, Pinchas says the kitchen in Sura is twice the size of our current one,” Beloria said. “In fact, the place is more like a villa than a house since we’ll be the only family living there. There are two courtyards, gardens and orchards, and a tributary of the Sura Canal runs right outside the walls.”

  Rahel beamed with pleasure. “So we can immerse in the canal without leaving our family’s property.”

  “And nobody has to walk far to get water. Pinchas said one reason Hanan and their father chose the place was its excellent wells. Our water will make the finest beer in Bavel.”

  “I thought they wanted a house close to the prophet Ezekiel’s Synagogue,” Rahel said.

  There was no reason for me to remain silent, and this was my chance to ask the question that had bothered me all year. “Sura is even closer to Ctesiphon than Kafri. Won’t we be in danger if the Roman army comes back?”

  Rahel got up from her loom and put her arm around me, pulling me so close that I could smell her floral perfume. “Don’t worry. The Romans aren’t interested in lands south of the capital. It’s Machoza, Pumbedita, and Nehardea that must worry.”

  “Pinchas told me that Sura has very well-fortified walls.” Beloria reached over and took my hand. “If necessary, our family could find shelter in the city proper until any danger passed.”

  Suddenly the idea of marrying Rami, a resident of Sura, seemed far more appealing to me than marrying Abba, who lived in Machoza. And in Sura I’d be close to my family.

  I didn’t have much time to think about whom I would marry. Mother and Shayla arrived home a few days later, and Shayla and Pinchas promptly got into such a heated argument that the neighbors in the next courtyard must have heard it.

  It started when Pinchas told Shayla, quite reasonably I thought, “I know my nurse is getting old, but I don’t want her freed. She can move to Sura with us and care for my children.”

  “Your nurse is old, Pinchas.” Shayla emphasized the word “is.” “That is why we need to free her. Old slaves can’t do the same work as young ones, and it makes no sense to maintain a slave who can’t work.”

  Pinchas, evidently not expecting his sister-in-law to object, spoke a bit louder. “Nurse is perfectly capable of working. She knows how to manage children better than a slave half her age.”

  “But how long will she be able to carry them, lift them up, and change their swaddling?” Shayla’s voice, high pitched and squeaky to begin with, now sounded like a gull squawking. “Do you expect us to keep her until she’s lying on the bed and the children are feeding her?”

  “I’m not saying that all our slaves should stay on after they’re old, lolling on silk cushions,” Pinchas retorted. “I’m only talking about bringing my nurse to Sura.”

  “And what about our old donkeys, our old guard dogs? Shall we bring them to Sura?”

  Pinchas was so angry I was afraid he would ask her why Grandfather was being allowed to move to Sura. But instead he countered, in a voice as hard as iron, “Donkeys and dogs never stayed up all night with me, and my children, like my nurse did when we were ill…and when your children were sick, I bet you didn’t stay up with them e
ither.”

  I started to think about all the ways Nurse cared for me and how unhappy I’d be if Shayla decided to sell her. But then Shayla hissed at Pinchas, “How dare you compare me to an animal.”

  She raised her hand to slap him, but he stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. “If Nurse can’t come, I’m not moving to Sura either. I’m sure Yenuka can use another brewer here in Kafri.”

  Mother, who’d probably hoped that Shayla and Pinchas would settle their disagreement themselves, took a deep breath and stepped into the fray. “Since you bear her such affection, Pinchas, we can make an exception in your nurse’s case.”

  Shayla frowned at the crowd that had gathered, causing them to slink toward the exits. When she saw Mother staring at her expectantly, she sighed and added, “Very well. All of Nachman’s brothers may bring their nurses to Sura if they so desire.”

  Mother held out her arms to Pinchas, who hurried to embrace her. Then she beckoned for me to join them. “As long as you are all here, I am pleased to announce that once we are settled in our new home Hisdadukh will become betrothed to Rami bar Chama.”

  The room broke into cheers. I blushed at the attention and looked down at the floor. But inside I was bursting with joy, along with a good deal of relief. Father had confirmed my choice of bridegroom, and my future was assured. I was also filled with admiration at how Mother so adroitly changed an unpleasant situation into a sweet one.

  Before I knew it, Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur, and Sukkot were behind us, along with the hottest days of summer. The air was sweet with the scent of boiling pomegranate juice that Cook was distilling down to make the most delicious syrup. Pomegranate seeds appeared at every meal, and children delighted in sticking out their purple-stained tongues at one another. I was a betrothed maiden now, so I tried to keep the evidence of my pomegranate indulgences inside my mouth, although Keshisha’s teasing made that difficult.

  Finally moving day arrived. The household was in such commotion that I once again took refuge on the roof, safely out of the way of slaves toting heavy containers. Standing in the remains of our sukkah, where my family had dined and slept during the weeklong Sukkot festival, which celebrated how the Israelites had dwelt in similar shelters in the wilderness after their escape from Egypt, I had an excellent view of people hurrying to and fro below. No sooner had our slaves filled a cart with crates, baskets, and storage jars, than carters hitched up the donkeys and off they went.

  From my secluded perch, I could follow the cart as it wove its way through the crowded streets until it reached the dock, where porters loaded the contents onto a waiting boat. At the same time, an empty cart headed back to our house, where slaves waited with more items to fill it.

  The process was fascinating to watch, but the afternoon sun was warm and I eventually grew tired from running back and forth to keep the carts in sight. I sat down in a shady corner, and since I had been too excited to sleep well the previous night, I soon began to doze.

  I woke with a start at how much cooler it had become, and how much quieter. The sun was heading toward the horizon, and a glance below showed no activity in the courtyard. I frantically scanned the streets and saw no donkeys pulling carts either to or from our house. Our boat was sitting at the dock, but the porters were gone.

  Ha-Elohim! They’d finished loading everything and were ready to leave, but I was still on the roof.

  I scampered down the ladders and raced toward the courtyard gate, nearly colliding with a slave carrying water. She stared at me in dismay and after a moment of indecision ran into the house, calling for help. But I didn’t wait. I was convinced, based on my observations from the roof, that I could get to the canal quicker by myself.

  I bolted out into the street, turned left after two blocks, and then right after three more. But instead of finding myself in a small square with roads leading in each of four directions, I was staring into a crowded street lined with shops. I knew the canal was located on the other side of the souk, so I plunged in among the shoppers.

  That was a mistake, one of many I made that afternoon. At first I reveled in the myriad smells emanating from food sellers’ carts and open doorways—pungent spices, roasted meat, fried onions and garlic. But jostled by the crowd, I soon lost track of the direction I was going. I tried to see which way was west, but the streets were roofed, and it worried me that I couldn’t see the sun. It seemed a very long time before I finally broke free from the souk’s twisting alleyways, and my heart sank when, instead of water ahead, I saw only a narrow residential road lined by courtyard walls. I wandered through the neighborhood, coming to one dead end after another, until I gave up and decided to try crossing the souk again.

  If anything, it was even more congested than before. The noise of so many individuals shouting was deafening, and I nearly fainted from the odor of countless bodies, both animal and human, crammed so close together. Still, I fought down my rising panic. Surely I’d made a simple error that would be easy to rectify.

  This time I went more slowly and took note of specific merchants as I passed them. I could tell that people were staring and pointing at me, but I didn’t dare admit I was lost or ask for directions. That would only make my position more dangerous. Mother had drilled Achti and me to never go out on the street without at least one slave in attendance, and preferably with two. Desert Saracens liked to kidnap girls who walked alone, especially girls who looked like they had wealthy families to ransom them. Two of Rav Nachman’s daughters had been kidnapped, and it took so long to ransom them that they married their captors in the meantime.

  My heart was pounding so hard I was sure everyone in the souk could hear it, but I kept my head down. I stumbled among the alleys, trying desperately to avoid those I’d already passed through, while at the same time trying to notice if a stranger was following me.

  After an eternity, I detected the scent of water on a passing breeze, and a moment later I rounded a corner and glimpsed a liquid shimmer at the end of the street. I couldn’t have run faster if demons were chasing me, and I eventually burst out onto the canal’s tow road. There was the dock in the distance, but when I got close enough to see the boats, I stopped in horror.

  There was a different boat docked where my family’s had been. They had left without me.

  THREE

  Tears streamed down my cheeks as I tried to remember how to get back to our house. I wasn’t sure which way to go, but I knew I had to get away from here immediately. I wasn’t wearing a slave’s collar, so I had to be either an escaped slave or the daughter of a free man. Exposed and vulnerable, I was surrounded by all sorts of dockworkers and disreputable men. I felt them watching, wondering about me.

  Suddenly I sensed someone approaching. In terror I bolted toward the nearest street that led back to town. But I had started too late. A strong masculine hand grabbed my arm, and as hard as I struggled to escape, my captor held me fast.

  “So there you are,” came a familiar voice. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”

  I looked up into my brother Yenuka’s round brown eyes and burst out sobbing.

  “Don’t worry, they haven’t left yet,” he said, drying my face with his sleeve. “The porters need this dock for loading, so our boat is waiting upstream.”

  I sniffed back tears as we walked together. “Mother and Father will be angry.”

  Yenuka couldn’t deny this but he squeezed my hand. “They’ll be more happy than angry, seeing you unharmed.”

  I shamefacedly climbed onboard; I couldn’t bear to meet anyone’s gaze. As Yenuka predicted, Mother clasped me to her generous bosom and a broad smile replaced Father’s worried visage. But surely they would still hold me responsible for delaying our departure and making everyone agonize over my disappearance. My apprehension heightened when Achti hissed that I deserved to get the switch this time and Keshisha, usually the one in trouble, shook his head in empathy.

  At first I was afraid that I had delayed our journey so long tha
t we couldn’t leave until the next morning. But my lucky stars were shining. Just as the Euphrates and its canals flowed both day and night, so did traffic on their waters. Our boat set sail with enough time before sunset that I was able to observe quite a bit of the countryside before darkness descended.

  Not that there was much to see beyond the shore. The riverbanks were crowded with tall leafy trees and thick stands of reeds. Of course the water level was lower than the surrounding embankments, so even if there had been a magnificent palace on the other side, I wouldn’t have been able to see it. Occasionally we passed a dock where I caught a glimpse of a city or village, but they didn’t look much different from the waterfront in Kafri.

  What I did see were huge flocks of noisy birds silhouetted against the sky as they looked for a place to rest before dark. I watched in delight as birds swooped down as if to land, until suddenly, at some invisible signal, they pulled up and continued their flight. I marveled at the rustling of thousands of wings as the birds flew low across the sunset before dropping in unison onto the water.

  Who was their leader and how did the other birds choose him? What made them pick a certain spot to land yet reject others that looked similar? Only Elohim knew.

  The silence after the birds found their nests was a tremendous disappointment. I tried to keep the birds in my mind when Achti and I lay down on our sleeping mats at the boat’s stern. But I couldn’t avoid thoughts of the punishment that awaited me once we arrived in Sura. Even counting the multitude of stars overhead couldn’t distract me from my impending doom.

  Thus I was still awake when we came to a sudden halt. The sailors jumped ashore and tied the boat tightly to a shadowy dock. Someone lit a torch. Standing on deck out of the sailors’ way, I could see my parents’ faces peering into the distance as additional torches appeared, coming down the embankment.