Apprentice

by Maggie Anton

  I was so overcome with emotion that I began to cry.

  In the litter on our way home, I gushed to Mother about how proud I felt at Father and my brothers blessing the people so beautifully, and amazingly, how the exilarch had showed up just in time to take us with him and would soon be dining in our very own traklin. I wanted to ask if Father had used some of his priestly magic to make those things happen, but I didn’t dare.

  Mother smiled at my enthusiasm. “You have too much energy to sit still and be carried. Why don’t you walk the rest of the way with your brothers?” She gave me a linen cloak to protect my new silk clothes and helped me down from the litter. “Try to stay in the date groves’ shade. It will protect your complexion from the sun.”

  I caught up to Yenuka, who seemed to be in less high spirits than the rest of my brothers. “Is anything wrong?” I asked him.

  He startled at my question and then sighed. “Blessing the people together makes me miss how we all used to live together.”

  A question popped into my mind that had never before occurred to me. “Yenuka, why didn’t you become a rabbi?”

  He hesitated, and I worried that I had shamed him. “I used to think it was because Father was so poor when I was young that he needed my help to make the beer that supported us,” he said. “By the time we were prosperous enough that I had time to study Torah, I would have been far behind Nachman and Hanan.”

  “But you don’t think so now?”

  “If I’d had the right temperament, I could have caught up with my brothers.” He shrugged in resignation. “But I wasn’t the pious type, like Mari and Pinchas. I wanted to enjoy myself, not memorize Mishna.”

  I reached over and hugged him. “You’re a good father and make excellent beer. Not everyone can be a rabbi.” I couldn’t.

  “I must still be a disappointment for Father.”

  “I doubt that. Your sons study Mishna, and from what I see, they’re good students.”

  “That reminds me.” Yenuka lowered his voice so I could barely hear him. “I want you to keep an eye on Keshisha. I’m afraid he’s going the way I did, and he doesn’t have the excuse of needing to help support the family.”

  “What makes you say that?” How could someone who’d only seen Keshisha a few times since we moved know something that those who lived with him didn’t?

  “Maybe I’m wrong, but he’s too interested in the slave girls and not interested enough in his studies.”

  I thought of how Keshisha almost never asked questions in class or volunteered anything new. I also recalled how eager he was for Zahra to wash his feet. “Why so concerned about Keshisha? Let Father worry about him.”

  “Father and I have just agreed that Keshisha will marry Guria.” Yenuka didn’t sound too happy about this. “She’s my only daughter and this way she won’t be separated from our family.”

  Now I understood. “What should I do if you’re right?”

  “Send me a message and I’ll come up to take him in hand.”

  We waited as the exilarch’s party rode past us on the dusty road, and I silently thanked Mother for giving me the linen cloak. My admiration for her grew when I saw the magnificent feast awaiting us. Mar Nehemiah’s entourage was smaller than she’d expected, as his court had been in the middle of moving to his summer palace in the north when he suddenly realized how close he was to Ezekiel’s tomb on Shavuot. On a whim, he’d decided to stop and worship there while his other boats continued up the Euphrates.

  I was only too glad to sleep on the roof and give up my kiton to our guests on such a lovely warm night. Hosting the exilarch brought us new prominence, as the next morning we were received at Ezekiel’s Synagogue with deference and escorted to an honored place near the reading platform. To my surprise, when it was time to read Torah, they called Father up first.

  Mar Nehemiah gently declined to dine with us after services, insisting that his boat needed to get moving again. Tired from all the festival’s excitement, I rode home in Mother’s litter. The gentle movement was lulling me to sleep when I remembered something I could only ask her in private.

  “Mother, wasn’t it incredible how Mar Nehemiah showed up just in time to get us into Ezekiel’s Synagogue?”

  She looked at me with an inscrutable expression. “It must have been Elohim’s desire that we worship there.”

  “You don’t think Father cast a spell, then?”

  A smile played around her lips. “He may have prayed for help from Heaven, but it isn’t prudent to discuss such things.”

  Chastened, I changed the subject. “Do you think Mar Nehemiah will come again next Shavuot?”

  “I doubt it,” she replied. “Next year will be a leap year, so Shavuot will be later in the season. He’ll probably be at his summer palace already.”

  I stared at Mother in shock. Father taught that Jews living in Bavel were supposed to wait until the rabbis in Eretz Israel announced a leap year. “How do you know that already?”

  “Arithmetic may not be your strength, but think about it, Hisdadukh,” she said with a chuckle. “This year Pesach came only a week after the spring equinox. Twelve months contain 354 days and there are 365 days between two spring equinoxes.”

  She waited for me to do the calculations in my head, but it was futile. I shook my head in shame and she continued. “Unless the Rabbis add an extra month of Adar next year, Pesach will come before the spring equinox, which the Torah does not allow. It’s not so difficult to figure out.”

  How clever of the Babylonian Jews. Though it was forbidden for anyone except the Jewish patriarch to intercalate the New Year, we did it ourselves and just waited for official word to come from the West to confirm what we already knew.

  Father’s lessons resumed once his students returned from celebrating Shavuot. I was already waiting at the gate for Rami to arrive, and as soon as he sat down for me to wash his feet, I whispered that I needed to speak with him right away, in private.

  He tensed and looked at me in alarm. “What’s wrong…I mean, uh…what’s the matter, Dodi?”

  I smiled inwardly at his anxiety over my displeasure, but I said calmly, “Nothing’s the matter. I need you to take a message to my sister.”

  His relief was palpable. “Can’t you tell me now?”

  I shook my head. “It’s best if people don’t see us talking together.” The person I had in mind was Abba.

  He thought for a moment as I massaged his feet. “I could…leave the midday meal early and, uh, meet you near the privies.” He cleared his throat and added, “It would…look like we met by accident.”

  Other maidens might have been irritated by his flustered speech, but I found his shyness endearing. “No, we’re starting to rot the yellow flax this week and it will reek something awful,” I replied. “What about the garden? Near the roses?” At least the stink wouldn’t be quite so bad there.

  He smiled, perhaps enjoying the intrigue, and leaned over so close that I could smell his hair oil. “Do you want to leave first and I’ll join you…or the other way around?”

  I smiled back. This might be fun. “I’ll leave first, so if anyone notices, it won’t look like I’m chasing you.”

  I finished drying his feet and washed his hands. I liked the idea of us sneaking off to meet in the garden. I’d have to start sending more messages to Achti.

  I toyed with not meeting Rami in the garden, to make him more eager for it, but decided it was more important to arrange a time to see Achti. It was almost summer, so I would only be making amulets for Kimchit in the morning, before the midday heat sent everyone indoors to rest. I would no longer be dining there either, as that would mean having to walk home at the hottest time of day.

  So I ate quickly, and, the moment a debate broke out between Abaye and my brother Nachman, I quietly left my seat and headed for the courtyard. Zahra followed me, and making no effort to avoid her, I hurried through the south courtyard gate, my heart beating wildly. She was about to catch up with me w
hen I turned the corner into the garden and saw Rami pacing the path near the rose bushes. Zahra halted immediately and then waited to follow until a decent distance opened between us. Rami’s manservant maintained his position at the doorway of the house.

  “How is my sister? Is she well?” Trying to hide my excitement, I quickly added, “How are your mother and brother? We missed your family at Ezekiel’s Synagogue for Shavuot.”

  “Uh…Mother doesn’t like to pray there when it’s so crowded.” He’d cleared his throat first, but got the entire sentence out afterward. Was he only tongue-tied while having his feet washed?

  “I understand. We never would have gotten in ourselves if the exilarch hadn’t shown up.” I told Rami the story of our rescue, leaving out that I’d asked Father to cast a spell.

  “You were lucky,” Rami said in awe.

  I took a deep breath of the sweet rose-scented air and sighed. “He probably won’t be here again next year though.” I carefully repeated Mother’s explanation and was rewarded by Rami’s look of admiration.

  “To answer your questions…both Achti and Ukva are fine,” he replied. “Mother is, uh, doing as well as can be expected.”

  “I miss Achti and I want to see her, but I only come into town occasionally, and the last time I was there your slaves wouldn’t let me in because no one was home.”

  Rami gave me an odd look, as though what I said didn’t make sense, and I noticed how his hair curled near his ears. “Perhaps you should have arranged a specific day and time for your visit,” he said slowly.

  “Exactly. That’s why I need your help. Next week I can come in the late morning on Second Day or Fourth Day.”

  Rami didn’t ask why those days were best, saving me from having to explain about my writing amulets. It wasn’t a secret, but I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about marrying a charasheta.

  “I’ll ask her when I get home,” he promised. “And if she’s…busy both those days, what about the following week?”

  “I can come on both First and Second Day,” I said, impressed with Rami’s shrewdness. With four days to choose from, it would be inexcusably rude not to invite me for one of them.

  I wanted to ask more about how Achti was doing, or anything to keep us talking together, but Zahra began to cough. Pushing his way past Rami’s slave, Abba strode into the garden. Fury welled up in me as I waited until Zahra reached my side. Ignoring both Rami and Abba, I walked among the roses, leaning down to smell one every now and then as if it were a coincidence that we all happened to be in the garden at the same time.

  “They’ve gone back inside, Mistress,” Zahra said softly.

  I turned and headed briskly for the outer courtyard. “Good, I need to use the privy.”

  Two days later Rami squeezed my hand as I washed his and whispered that he had news from my sister. Again, I finished my meal early, but this time I exited to the garden directly. To my displeasure, Abba was already there, pretending to smell the roses. But I was too eager to hear about Achti to stalk away, so I restrained my annoyance and waited for Rami to approach.

  “What are we going to do about him?” I hissed.

  “Nothing. We’re not doing anything wrong.”

  “I don’t like him watching us.”

  “Ignore him.” Rami leaned closer to me. “He’s only causing himself pain, and we shouldn’t let him disturb us.”

  Rami was right, but I wasn’t sure I could follow his advice for long. Abba’s presence had completely spoiled the rose garden’s romantic atmosphere. “So what news of my sister?”

  “Mother says you’re to come next week on Fourth Day.”

  My mood brightened. “Thank you so much for helping me. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  “Glad to do it, Dodi.” Rami smiled and leaned closer again. “You should see how your obvious joy is making Abba glower.”

  I glanced in Abba’s direction just in time to see his attention return to the roses. “We must continue to meet, then,” I said, my heart swelling whenever Rami called me Dodi. “If our happiness makes him miserable enough, maybe he’ll leave us alone.”

  My happiness lasted exactly one week, until Rami met me in the garden on Third Day and reluctantly informed me that his mother wasn’t feeling well enough for visitors the next day.

  “But I’m visiting Achti,” I protested loudly, “not your mother.” I could feel my anger rising.

  Rami looked at me helplessly.

  “And I’m not a visitor. I’m family.” I tried to contain my frustration, which was difficult because Abba was still spying on us, this time from merely one row of roses away.

  “Uh, I know it upsets you…but what can I do?” Rami asked plaintively.

  Something snapped and I burst into tears. “You’re such a clever scholar. You find a solution,” I shot back as I fled.

  All I could think of was how close Achti and I had become before her wedding, talking about all sorts of things, and now I couldn’t talk to her at all. Zahra caught up with me outside the south gate and walked with me among the pomegranates and etrog trees until I’d stopped crying.

  “Come with me,” she said. “I know what will make you feel better.”

  She led me to where piles of dried flax stalks remained to be beaten, and dumped an armful on the stone ground. I grabbed the nearest flail and assaulted the flax without mercy, sometimes imagining Pushbi under my attack and sometimes Rami. When I finished that batch, Zahra lay down more, and I continued until my arm was too heavy to lift. Covered with sweat, I paused to catch my breath and transfer the flail to my other hand.

  That’s when I saw Abba walking toward us. Ha-Elohim! What did he want? I didn’t understand why his presence always bothered me. Why couldn’t I just ignore him?

  He approached tentatively, gauging my reaction. “You should know that you don’t have to marry Rami if you don’t want to.” He spoke hurriedly, as if trying to forestall my interrupting him. “You were betrothed as a minor, so if you choose, you can repudiate the marriage when you become an adult.”

  My mouth dropped open. How dare he be so presumptuous? “And you, of course, would be willing to marry me then?” I meant this as sarcasm, but it sounded more like a plea.

  “I would,” he replied. “That’s why I’m not betrothed yet.”

  I stared at him in astonishment. We stood there in silence, close enough that I could discern the small tufts of beard sprouting on his weak chin. Finally Abba walked away, and I realized that his voice was now lower than Rami’s. And I recalled that his mother was no longer living.

  The next morning, I worked at Kimchit’s while Father and his students were at court, Abba’s words refusing to leave my mind. I had avoided Rami while eating my morning porridge, in addition to ignoring him during yesterday’s meals. But there was no escape from washing his feet.

  “Dodi.” His whisper was urgent. “I must speak with you.”

  I remained silent and concentrated on completing my task as fast as I could.

  “Please, Dodi. It’s important.”

  I sighed with resignation. “Very well, I will meet you in the rose garden.”

  I made no effort to eat quickly, and took some pleasure in observing Rami’s increasing impatience. Finally I stood up and leisurely made my way outside. The roses were past their prime, but their fragrance still lingered.

  “You are to visit on Second Day,” he said immediately. “I guarantee it.”

  “Even if your mother isn’t well?”

  He gave me a proud smile. “I told Mother that I would come home to dine with the family after court that day. So even if she takes to her bed, you and I can visit with Achti and Ukva.”

  I gazed at Rami with gratitude. He had challenged his mother on my behalf and won. “Oh, thank you.”

  “So you’re not…not angry anymore?” his voice pleaded.

  I looked at Abba, who was pretending to examine some nearby flowers, and shook my head in exasperation. “Don�
�t worry. I’m not angry with you.” I emphasized the word “you.”

  While I was pleased with Rami for standing up to his mother, I would reserve judgment until after I’d actually met with my sister.

  True to his word, Rami was waiting outside his family’s courtyard gate on Second Day. And inside, busy at her loom, was Achti. I ran to embrace her, noting with relief her pink cheeks and quick gait. She was the very picture of good health.

  “Where’s Pushbi?” I whispered, divulging my ambivalence at seeing my future mother-in-law.

  “Oh, she’ll be joining us soon.” Achti gave me a wink. “She couldn’t abide us dining without her.”

  “So how are you? How is married life?”

  “Come.” She took me by the arm. “You must need to use the privy.”

  I followed her to the far corner of the courtyard, afraid that her marriage was so awful that she needed to tell me privately. “Ukva is an excellent husband, but he is away supervising his lands much of the time…”

  Achti hesitated so long that I had to prompt her. “And?”

  “Pushbi is hateful,” Achti blurted out. “She treats the slave girls I brought as if they were hers, and I might as well be a slave myself the way she orders me around and won’t let me do anything without her permission. She even feeds me like a slave, saving most of the meat for Ukva and Rami even though she has plenty of money to buy enough for all of us.”

  “Ukva is the master of the house,” I said firmly. “That means you, his wife, are mistress here, not his mother.”

  “Tell that to Pushbi. She keeps the keys and manages the money.” Achti spat in disgust. “All the time I spent learning how to keep accounts with Mariamme was wasted.”

  “What does Ukva say about it?”

  “I haven’t complained to him yet,” Achti admitted. “I keep hoping he’ll notice and say something to her himself.”

  “Does Pushbi know Grandfather vowed that your husband gets no benefit from your lands?” I asked. “Maybe that’s why she’s unhappy with you.”

  She stopped to think. “I’m not sure Ukva knows, although you’d think Father wouldn’t arrange my betrothal without informing my husband of something so vital.” She slipped her arm around me. “Let’s not talk about Pushbi. What have you been doing?”