by Maggie Anton
Once we disembarked, Father held my hand tightly as he led me up a small hill. I winced with shame when he whispered that he had no intention of letting me wander off by myself again.
The torches soon illuminated a wall looming in the distance, and a short walk took us through an open gate. We arrived at a large room with woven mats on the floor, which I assumed was the traklin. Father announced we would all sleep there that night.
I didn’t see Nurse or Achti among the women, so I looked hesitantly around for someone else to lie near. To my surprise, Mother beckoned me to her side, and we lay down together. I don’t recall ever having slept with her before, although I suppose I must have when I was a baby. It was very pleasant to snuggle up to her warm softness and then drift off while listening to her breath and smelling her fragrant jasmine perfume.
In the morning I saw that the room where we’d spent the night was not the traklin at all but merely an anteroom or reception hall. An anteroom larger than our traklin in Kafri! The true traklin, I soon saw, was so big that fifty people could easily fit inside. Its floor was paved with wide, flat stones, unlike in Kafri, where our entire first floor was tamped earth. Here only the kitchen and storage rooms had dirt floors.
After receiving permission from Mother, who said we could go wherever we wanted as long as we stayed within the villa’s walls, Achti and I set out to find our kiton upstairs. But the entire second floor seemed to consist of one bedroom after another, and we saw no way of discerning which was ours. Soon the house was crawling with slaves either carrying containers or unpacking them, so we headed outside, only to find the courtyard bustling with activity as well. Hoping we wouldn’t be in the way on the roof, we looked for the nearest ladder.
And saw none. Instead of ladders there were actual staircases leading from the courtyard to balconies on the second story and then continuing to the roof. Of course every staircase had people either hurrying up or hurrying down, and sometimes both. So we walked through the courtyard to the gate at its far end, intending to continue along the house’s perimeter until we found a ladder.
Suddenly, as we approached the well, it struck me that something was missing. Poultry, geese, and goats had roamed our courtyard in Kafri. “Achti, where are all the animals?”
“They’re in the souk, silly child, waiting for Mother to buy them.” My sister’s dark curls shook as she laughed at my ignorance. “Did you expect animals to travel with us on the boat?”
“Of course not.” I was chagrined that I had given my older sister yet another opportunity to emphasize that, compared to her, I was still a little girl. “I just thought she would have bought them already.”
I stopped at the well, eager for my first taste of its sweet water. I wondered why there were no privies in the courtyard, but I didn’t want to invite more of Achti’s ridicule, so I said nothing until we exited the courtyard.
I couldn’t suppress an awestruck, “Ha-Elohim!”
I had expected the villa walls to run close to the house, with perhaps space for a small orchard. I never imagined the broad field of vegetables and row upon row of fruit trees stretching out before me. And that was just on the south side. Achti and I raced around to the west to enter a newly planted garden with paved paths, several of which led back to the house. I recognized jasmine vines and roses among the other bushes, but these wouldn’t flower until spring.
We passed through the aromatic herb garden to the front of the house, where a wide track led from the heavy outer gate to the main courtyard entrance. Now there was only the east side of the villa to be investigated. As we approached, I grinned to hear that Achti was wrong about needing to buy animals. For immediately as we turned the corner, a cacophony of honking geese announced our presence.
Between the house and the east wall was an outer courtyard, this one serving less savory functions. Here were chicken coops and a pond for geese. A second well stood not far from a door into the inner courtyard, and closer to the outer wall were four large pits with white plastered sides and floor. They looked like cisterns, but why would we need cisterns when we had two wells? And why did each pit contain a huge cylindrical stone?
I might have asked Achti about this except that we had finally found our ladders. Several privies flanked an entry to the house, their doors and seats arranged so that an occupant’s back side faced away from Jerusalem. A ladder on one side of the privies led to the second floor and another on the other side went all the way to the roof.
I raced Achti to the roof ladder and climbed to the top, gasping out another “Ha-Elohim!” at the view of date groves as far as the eye could see, our herd of goats wandering among the nearer ones. But where was Sura? I peered in every direction, but I couldn’t find the city; the date palms were too tall. My breath caught in my throat when I beheld the dome-shaped dovecote, which had its own ladder to facilitate catching doves in the upper roosts. Impatient to reach what had to be the highest spot on our property, I scrambled up and sent a flurry of doves into the air.
“Achti, I can see the city from here,” I called out, triumphant. “And the Euphrates.” The town spread out like a giant mottled flatbread from the confluence of the river and the main Sura Canal. There were far too many buildings to tell which was Ezekiel’s Synagogue, but I still thrilled at the view.
“Move over so I can see.” Achti squeezed me to the side. “Oh, look at all the fields and all the canals crossing them.”
“Sura looks so far away. Do you think we’re within its Shabbat limits?” With only a few exceptions, Jewish Law prohibited walking more than two thousand cubits from one’s residence or town on the Day of Rest.
“We must be.” Achti sounded confident. “Father wouldn’t build a home outside it.”
There was no time for further discussion. Nurse was waving at us from the top of the ladder. “Come and wash up, you two. It’s time to eat.”
There were thousands of dates drying on mats on the roof, along with figs and some fruits that could have been peaches or apricots. Enticed by the luscious fruity aroma, I grabbed a handful as we passed.
Nurse wore a worried expression. “Don’t run off after the meal, Dada. Your mother wants to talk to you.”
I stopped in alarm, aware that punishment still awaited me. Achti’s almond eyes narrowed in triumph and I knew she was thinking “I told you so.”
I let Achti go on without me while I headed for the privy. When I was little, Nurse used to come in with me, but now she waited outside, drumming her fingers on the wall or kicking at some dirt. Demons like Nasus and Shayd shel BeitKisay were attracted to privies, which made them perilous to use alone or at night. Even at midday, with Nurse making her presence known nearby, I wanted to get out as soon as possible.
Thankfully, Father had built our new privies in the Persian style, which harbored fewer demons. According to Persians, seven creations were susceptible to impurity: fire, water, earth, air, metal, animals, and of course, people. So they lined privies with stone to keep excrement, which Nasus polluted as soon as it left the body, from contact with the pure earth. And to minimize the excrement defiling the air, and the people above, the privy’s shaft sloped down at an angle.
I knew the Torah said nothing about excrement causing impurity, as opposed to corpses and menstrual blood, which everyone agreed were most dangerous. But when it came to avoiding demons, it was best to take every precaution. That meant wiping myself with round stones rather than pottery shards and washing my hands with lots of water afterward. Father taught that he became prosperous because he always washed with copious amounts of water, and that he never wiped with a pottery shard because it would make him vulnerable to evil spells.
Cook and the kitchen slaves outdid themselves to make our first meal in Sura special. There was roasted kid plus a savory goose stew redolent of onion and garlic, rich with floating globules of goose fat. There were even small fried fishes that had been taken from the fish trap in our canal that morning. Autumn’s harvest bounty was
evident from all the squash, cucumber, and beet dishes.
Knowing my punishment was imminent, I only picked at my food. Even the honeycombs and pomegranates for dessert couldn’t tempt me. As I feared, Mother and Father were waiting for me. All eyes followed as we solemnly walked outside, but by the time we reached the woodshed everyone had found something else to occupy them. While grateful that I wouldn’t be chastised in public, I wanted my parents to finish their scolding so my physical punishment would be over as soon as possible.
Mother began her lecture first. “Hisdadukh, you will be betrothed soon. You should be old enough to understand that a pious girl from a good family never goes out without attendants, that to do so risks untold damage to her reputation.”
I wasn’t sure exactly how it could damage my reputation, but this was no time to ask. So I nodded.
“Just as she does not speak with men other than those in her family,” Mother said, “she also never goes out without covering her hair or with a tunic so short you can see her legs.”
“Or with dashtana on her clothes,” I interjected. I still remembered how Mother and my sisters-in-law reacted when Achti came downstairs without noticing that menstrual bloodstains had leaked onto the back of her tunic. Achti told me that she would have died of shame if it had happened in synagogue, and for once I was glad to still be a young girl.
“We were lucky that Rami was not here.” Mother sighed with relief. “And thank our lucky stars that your father’s students go home for the month of Tishrei.”
That Rami might have canceled our betrothal made me realize the seriousness of my misconduct. I looked down at the ground and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Mother lifted my chin to look me in the eye. “In addition, you are never to leave the villa without an adult—not a slave—knowing where you are going and when you will return.”
Then, without looking back, she left me with Father. He expounded on the importance of not bringing shame to myself or my family and of diligently protecting my and my family’s reputation, which was impossible to repair once tarnished. I squirmed as he reminded me how Saracens had kidnapped Rav Nachman’s daughters and how Parthians had captured Shmuel’s daughters. Without giving details, he made it clear that girls were particularly vulnerable to such crimes and the outcome for them could be ruinous, even if they were ransomed.
I both dreaded and wished that he would stop talking, until his voice abruptly slowed and deepened to say, “Today there will be consequences for your misbehavior.”
He unlocked the woodshed and pulled out a switch. I gritted my teeth and made no protest when he bent me over his knee and gave my behind several hard swats. That wasn’t so bad; at least he hadn’t struck my bare flesh. But my punishment was just beginning.
“Come with me.” His voice brooked no questions. “See how a person’s misconduct can have repercussions beyond himself.”
Without comprehension I followed him to the slave quarters, where all the nurses and tutors were standing in a circle around something I couldn’t see. They parted to let Father and I pass, and when we stopped, I looked up and let out a whimper. Timonus was holding a whip with several lashes at the end, and standing before him, naked to the waist, was Nurse.
“If Hisdadukh’s nurse had been performing her duty,” Father declared, “my daughter would have been on the boat with the rest of my family, not left behind to panic and try to find the dock alone.” He turned to Timonus. “I will not tolerate a slave who neglects her duties, and even more so when it puts my child in danger. Twenty lashes should make this clear to everyone.”
At least Father didn’t force me to watch. Not that it was necessary, when I could hear every swish of the whip and every thud as the lashes struck Nurse’s skin. Not when I could hear Nurse’s moans grow into screams as her beating continued.
Mother returned and took me away before it was over. I was sobbing so hard that she made me drink an entire cup of date wine.
“Compared to most masters, your father treats our slaves well. They eat the same food we do, sleep indoors when the weather is bad, and he provides healing when they are ill,” she said. “In return he expects them to be loyal and dutiful, and he will not allow thieving or lechery.”
Why was Mother telling me this? Was there still more punishment to come? My heart began to pound again.
“He wanted to sell your nurse…”
I started to protest but Mother held up her hand to stop me. “I convinced him that she’s surely learned her lesson, that he should keep her to help tend to our many grandchildren.”
“But who will take care of me?” At least Nurse wouldn’t be sold to strangers, or worse, freed and sent out to fend for herself.
“Soon you’ll be betrothed,” Mother said. “You should have a maidservant to fix your hair in a style more appropriate for your age, to put on your makeup, and to help you dress.”
A maidservant to watch me every waking moment and keep me out of trouble, I thought without enthusiasm. And to tell Mother if I did anything I wasn’t supposed to.
That night I slept in my new kiton with Achti and her maidservant, the second time in my life, as far as I could recall, that I didn’t sleep with Nurse. The new floor mats weren’t as soft and pliant as our old ones in Kafri, so between my sore buttocks, memories of Nurse’s beating, and being poked by sharp pieces of reed, I feared that it would be a long, uncomfortable night.
Suddenly there was the sound of soft footsteps, followed by several cushions dropping down next to me. “I thought you might appreciate some company tonight,” Grandfather said as he arranged the cushions for us to sleep on.
How wise of him to understand how much I’d miss Nurse’s presence. I was appreciating the cushion’s softness when he asked me if I could remind him what Rabbi Simeon said about crowns in the fourth chapter of the Mishna volume called Tractate Avot.
As soon as I heard the word “crowns,” I comprehended that I was about to receive another lecture about my reputation. “Rabbi Simeon said there are three crowns: the crown of Torah, the crown of priesthood, and the crown of royalty,” I said, and then added with emphasis, “Yet the crown of a good name excels them all.”
“Do you realize that you yourself wear those three crowns?”
“I do?” I knew that Father was from a priestly family; his full name was Hisda haKohen. People in Kafri had brought us priestly tithes even though the Holy Temple was destroyed more than three hundred years ago.
“A priest’s daughter also wears the crown of priesthood,” Grandfather explained. “And a scholar’s daughter who knows Scripture and Mishna certainly wears the crown of Torah.”
“But royalty?”
“The exilarch is a direct descendant of King David,” he replied. “In fact, the exilarch’s entire family, including your mother, descends from the Davidic royal house.”
“Mother is related to the exilarch?” I asked in astonishment. Was that why we’d been invited to his palace?
Grandfather chuckled at my amazement. “Nehemiah, the current exilarch, is her cousin. Haviva doesn’t tout it, but her mother and Nehemiah’s mother were sisters.”
I was silently considering this when he continued, “Do you see why maintaining your reputation, your good name, is so important? If you damage it, you have besmirched the priesthood, the Davidic dynasty, and the Torah itself.”
“I understand, Grandfather.” I hoped he would let me go to sleep now. I was so very tired.
But he had another point to make. “Bearing the name Hisdadukh, Hisda’s daughter, you must be especially careful. For if you injure your good name, you injure your father’s as well.”
Finally I could ask the question that had puzzled me for years. “Why did Mother name me Hisdadukh? Nobody else in our family has a Persian name.”
“Haviva already had grandchildren when you were born, and she was determined that no one should confuse you, your father’s youngest child, with them.” He was silent for a moment
and I closed my eyes. “Now I have a question for you, child.”
I forced my heavy eyelids open. “What is it?”
“When your father asked you whether you wanted to marry Rami or Abba, why did you say ‘both of them’?”
“It wasn’t because I thought a woman could have two husbands,” I replied vehemently, still smarting from how Keshisha had mocked me. How often would I keep having to answer this question?
“Of course not,” he assured me.
Despite a good deal of thought about it, I still didn’t know what had made me give that answer. But what I told Grandfather wasn’t untrue. “I didn’t want to shame either youth by rejecting him in front of all the others.”
“So you do understand the importance of avoiding shame. I hope that means you understand why you should never do anything to shame Rav Hisda.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “Or his daughter.”
FOUR
It was in Sura that I first learned about sorcery, as well as how to brew date beer—two skills I knew existed but had never seen practiced. We had been in our new home less than a week when Hanan and Pinchas, along with most of our household, began the brewing process. I immediately learned that what I thought were cisterns were the troughs where crushed dates and water would ferment into beer. Most important, I discovered that the roof was a perfect place to watch the entire procedure.
In Kafri beer had been brewed in Father’s date groves, too far away and hidden by palm trees to see from the roof. Here in Sura I watched from the very beginning, when field hands brought in cartfuls of dates from beyond the walls. But instead of emptying the contents into the troughs, they dumped the fruit right in the middle of the courtyard.
That was the end of merely watching, for Father called on everyone, free and slave, man and woman, to pit the dates. The job wasn’t difficult; even children could separate the pits and toss them into large baskets to be saved for animal feed. For the children, in fact, it was almost a game. We were never allowed to play with our food at meals, but the dates were soft and it was fun to squish them between our fingers. We were supposed to throw the pitted dates back into the carts, but a fair number of them got thrown at one another first. It was a cheerful occupation, with much singing and joking, and we could eat as we worked. Before I tired of it, we were finished.
