Apprentice

by Maggie Anton

  Hearing this so pleased me that I barely noticed when Rav Nachman and Yalta arrived. I was eating hurriedly so I’d be able to join Mother before she’d distributed all the jewels, and thus my mouth was full of porridge when Yalta asked where the women were.

  Father looked at me questioningly, and I gulped down my food to answer her. “Mother and my sisters are upstairs adorning themselves. I can take you there in a few moments.”

  “Your mother is adorning herself?” Rav Huna scowled. “When the Mishna says that a woman may make her adornments during the intervening days of a festival, this only applies to young women. An old woman is not permitted to do so.”

  Father’s eyes flashed. “Ha-Elohim! Even your mother, and your grandmother, and even a woman standing on her grave may adorn herself.” He rose from his seat and said knowingly to Nachman, “Six or sixty, they all run to dance when they hear the sound of timbrels.”

  Nachman chuckled in agreement. I could feel him, and likely the whole room, watching as Yalta and I rushed up the stairs.

  I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that although Mother and my sisters-in-law were wearing their silks, their hair and makeup were still being fixed by the slave girls. Zahra frowned at my late arrival and, while helping me into my blue silk outfit, whispered that I shouldn’t blame her if I looked less than perfect, because she had to hurry her handiwork.

  “Look,” Shayla exclaimed, pointing at me. “Dada’s breasts have started growing.”

  I peered down at my naked chest, which looked just as flat as it always had. Of course everyone turned to scrutinize me.

  “How old are you now, Dada?” Yenuka’s wife, Devora, asked, her gaze alternating between me and her daughter, Guria.

  “I am in my twelfth year,” I replied proudly, cognizant that I would soon be considered an adult woman, one whose father could no longer control her assets, annul her vows, or sell her as a slave. Guria was about a year younger, but since she wasn’t wearing makeup, Devora evidently still considered her a child.

  My face flamed as my sisters-in-law directed me to turn this way and that, and to bend over, until a consensus was reached that my breasts had indeed begun to mature. For my part, it was a relief when Zahra slipped my tunic over my head and everyone returned to their own adornments.

  Mother waved at Yalta to join her. “Thank Heaven you’re here early. Tachlifa’s bride comes from a family of silk traders, so of course they also deal in precious jewels from India and China,” Mother said. “I have no hope of matching what their women will be wearing, but with your advice, my daughters will not be ashamed in their presence.”

  I held my head still as Zahra braided blue silk ribbons—nice ones, not anything I’d woven—through my hair. Pazi wasn’t merely being generous with her gifts of silk; she was ensuring that our clothes would not pale in comparison with her family’s.

  Mother unlocked the chest next to her bed and took out the jewel case. I craned my neck to see better, only to have Zahra tilt my head back so she could continue applying kohl around my eyes. I could hear women’s voices oohing in delighted awe, but unless I wanted a blue-streaked face, I had to wait until Zahra stopped to take a look myself.

  When I did, I gasped in awe. Mother’s bed was littered with jewelry: necklaces, earrings, bracelets, anklets, and rings. Most of it was gold, but there were some stones or pearls strung together. I knew our family was wealthy, but I had no idea Mother had such an extensive collection. One by one, she called up her daughters-in-law and, after consultation with Yalta, apportioned certain pieces to each of them.

  Zahra was putting rouge on my cheeks when Mother asked Yalta, “What do you think would be appropriate for Hisdadukh?”

  “She’s still too young for elaborate earrings or necklaces,” Yalta replied, and I resigned myself to wearing the same plain gold circlets that had pierced my earlobes for as long as I could remember.

  “Perhaps Dada can wear some simple bracelets or anklets,” Rahel suggested. “To catch the light when she dances.”

  “Mother, are these new?” I pointed at a pair of anklets studded with lapis lazuli. “I don’t remember anyone wearing them at Achti’s wedding.”

  “You will never see anyone wear them, or most of what is displayed here, outside your home,” Yalta said.

  I looked at Mother with incredulity, and she replied, “Here, in your Father’s house, his piety protects us. But to parade such riches in public would arouse envy and tempt the Evil Eye, along with robbers and thieves.”

  Yalta grinned. “Unless one is of the exilarch’s household and thus expected to wear expensive jewels.”

  The room quieted with everyone glancing back and forth between me and the lapis anklets, as we awaited Mother’s verdict. The stones perfectly matched my silk outfit, but nobody could call these anklets simple. Mother hadn’t immediately rejected the idea, however; she was considering it. But, then, Guria wasn’t wearing any jewelry.

  Finally Mother sighed and addressed the room. “I suppose I’ve waited too long to reject Rahel’s request without disappointing you all.”

  My sisters-in-law were all smiles as Mother held up the lapis anklets and motioned for me to sit on the bed so Zahra could fasten them on properly. Then Mother surprised everyone by picking up two gold bracelets and indicating that Devora should put them on Guria.

  “But before we start feeling too vain over our jewels,” Mother added, “perhaps Yalta will show us what a woman in the exilarch’s household wears.”

  Until that moment, I hadn’t realized that Yalta was carrying a purple silk purse. Preening before her audience, Yalta opened the purse and put on, first, a set of pearl and garnet earrings so long that they almost reached her shoulders. Several gold bracelets studded with pearls followed. But what came last made everyone’s jaw, except Mother’s, drop in awe: a gold filigree necklace from which hung a red stone, either a ruby or garnet, as large as a dove’s egg.

  I was sure I’d never see such an incredible piece of jewelry again, but I was proved wrong when Pazi’s family arrived. Our villa was crowded with wedding guests eager for the festivities to begin, most of whom raced outside to greet the bride when they heard her musicians in the distance. As hosts, our family remained inside the villa walls, although Keshisha and some of our nephews climbed to the roof, from which they shouted down news of the procession’s progress. I compromised by standing on the second-floor balcony, where I had a good view of the courtyard while remaining somewhat secluded.

  From my vantage point, I saw Rami and Ukva leading Pushbi and Achti toward the house; however, they were too far away for me to discern any evidence of Achti’s pregnancy. Kimchit’s sons were also here, drinking and sharing appetizers with their wives. Moments later I was shocked to see Abba bar Joseph accompanied by two men, one older and one younger, who, judging by their resemblance to Abba, had to be his father and brother. I’d assumed they’d all be home in Machoza for Sukkot. I recognized other rabbis and students as well, and surmised that Father had invited all his colleagues.

  The sun was almost at its zenith when the musicians arrived outside the courtyard gate, playing with pomp as the litters disgorged their occupants. I listened carefully and made out the sounds of timbrels, lyres, lutes, reed pipes, flutes, and drums. Pazi’s family hadn’t stinted on the music. Only two litters entered the courtyard proper; the first let out Tazi and an older woman who must have been her mother. I craned my neck to view their jewelry, but they were too heavily veiled.

  Finally Pazi’s litter halted outside the traklin door, at which time Tachlifa, accompanied by Father and my brothers, went out to meet her. Pazi’s father opened the litter door and gently helped her descend. At that moment I realized that I should be downstairs with Mother and my sisters to welcome her, and I nearly knocked over several nieces in my race down the stairs.

  Thankfully, my place was at the end of the line. That, along with Pazi’s and her relatives’ slow pace, meant that I wasn’t even breathing har
d when they reached me. Pazi’s and her mother’s jewels were indeed impressive, with intricately patterned gold pieces containing pearls and stones almost as large as Yalta’s. But it was their clothing that took my breath away. Pazi’s silk seemed to be woven of spun gold, while her mother’s gleamed like moonlight. Pazi’s bridal veil was delicate and frothy, a glittering golden cloud. In comparison, her mother’s was merely protection for what was underneath—an iridescent silver tunic woven all through with tiny pearls.

  Not that our nine females greeting them were any less striking in our array of vibrant colors. And of course Father and my brothers were imposing by sheer numbers alone. But they too looked impressive in tunics and trousers sewn from a variety of widths and colors of silken stripes—especially Tachlifa, who appeared to be dressed in a shimmering rainbow. I decided that between the jewelry and the silks, our two families had given the guests something to gossip about for years.

  Once the bride and groom were seated, everyone took their places and the banquet was served. I had made sure to secure a table next to mine for Achti, and to my relief Pushbi was unable to find a spot near enough to eavesdrop on us. Not that it would be easy to hear conversations over the music.

  Achti clandestinely lifted the sleeve of her tunic to reveal my amulet tied just above her elbow. “Thank you so much,” she whispered. “Did you make it yourself?”

  I speared slices of roast calf for both of us and nodded. “Is it working? Are you well?”

  “I can’t abide strong smells, especially in the afternoon, and I fall asleep right after the evening meal, but otherwise I feel perfectly fine.” She bit into the meat and sighed. “This calf is seasoned to perfection.”

  “Who knows besides you and me?” I took a bite, and then another. Achti was right. Cook had outdone herself; the meat was so tender it melted in my mouth.

  “Ukva surely knows, since I haven’t been niddah for almost four months, but he hasn’t said anything yet.”

  “What about Pushbi? She must have noticed.”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t think my belly is that much bigger.” Achti scooped her bread into the dove stew and stopped to think. “Yet she is feeding me better, giving me almost as much meat as Ukva. But that could be because you shamed her when you gave me yours that time.”

  “Pregnant women walk in a certain way that experienced people can recognize.” At Kimchit’s I’d written amulets for so many that I could easily identify them as they crossed her courtyard. “I’ll watch when you go to use the privy and see if it’s obvious.”

  “It doesn’t really matter. Everyone will know soon enough.” She helped herself to vegetables and another slice of calf, and gestured for a slave to bring more.

  I felt someone’s eyes on me, and sure enough Rami was gazing longingly at me from across the room. I flashed him a smile and wondered if he had opened the bag before giving it to Achti. If so, he must have surmised what the amulet was for. Still, I had to admit that he gave no indication of having discovered our secret.

  Achti pointed at Tazi struggling to rise from her seat. “I’m at the perfect stage of pregnancy for a banquet—ravenously hungry but not so big that my stomach can’t hold all that food. She looks ready to deliver any day.”

  One of the slaves helped Tazi to her feet, causing her tunic to cling briefly to her enormous belly. “Soon enough that her mother will continue to stay with us after the wedding week,” I said. “So she’ll be here when the baby comes.”

  “I’m so glad Mother is nearby, so she can come right away when I need her.”

  “You should have your baby here, where Father’s piety can protect you.”

  Achti sighed. “That would be nice, but I’m not sure Ukva and Pushbi would agree.”

  Either someone gave a signal or the musicians decided that everyone had eaten long enough, because the drums and timbrels abruptly grew louder and faster. My brothers and the other young men sprang into the center of a widening space in front of the newly wed couple, where they tried to outperform one another in dances showcasing their speed and athleticism.

  Mother directed our slaves to move the eating tables away, but instead of expanding their dances into the cleared area, my brothers held back and gestured for Mother to come up. She, in turn, invited Pazi’s mother to join her. I smiled at Achti in anticipation, confident that no matter how fine the other woman’s jewels and clothing, Mother’s dancing would be superior. Her audience watching with admiration, Mother demonstrated her skills just long enough that no one could complain that she’d usurped the dance floor.

  She curtsied to Tachlifa and Pazi, and then motioned for others to dance. I grabbed Achti’s hand, but she demurred, pleading that she’d rather not draw attention to herself. Before I could choose a new partner, I heard a girl’s voice behind me, asking me to dance with her.

  “Newandukh!” I exclaimed. “How nice that you could come.”

  “Nobody in Sura would dream of missing this wedding. Your mother is a wonderful dancer, and her clothes are so beautiful,” she gushed. “In fact, your outfit is lovely too. I wish I could wear silk before I’m married.”

  “I probably wouldn’t be if Pazi hadn’t given me this as a present,” I replied. “But her family is in the silk trade, you see.” I wasn’t sure how to explain Pazi’s generosity without bragging.

  “No wonder she and her mother have such gorgeous outfits.” Newandukh sighed. “If only I could have wedding clothes like that, I wouldn’t mind getting married next year.”

  “So soon?” I couldn’t hide my shock. Newandukh and I were the same age.

  “Rami can wait a few years since he’s still young, but my uncle is almost thirty,” she explained. “He’s been waiting a long time already.”

  I didn’t know how to respond. It seemed improper, somehow, for a man to marry a girl less than half his age, and I silently thanked Father for choosing me a youthful husband. But Newandukh wasn’t the only girl to marry so young. Several of the mothers I’d inscribed amulets for were only slightly older than me. We danced together until Devora brought Guria over to make a threesome, and we continued circling and twirling with the other women until I was so tired that it was a relief when the men reclaimed the dance floor.

  Before I knew it, the sun was setting and it was time for the evening meal. The musicians who’d accompanied Pazi’s litter were replaced by a new group who’d play until dawn. I was so hungry after all the dancing that it was only when Achti praised the food that I realized the menu we were being served was different from earlier. Beer and wine flowed like the Tigris and Euphrates, while the guests’ conversations sounded more boisterous as the time drew closer for Tachlifa and Pazi to leave the banquet and enter the huppah.

  Abaye was juggling so many balls that I couldn’t count them, when the music suddenly stopped. Father stood up, welcomed all the guests, and recited the seven wedding blessings for the newly married couple. Then, almost stealthily, Pazi, Tazi, and their mother departed from the traklin, leaving Tachlifa alone at the bridal table.

  Aware that Tazi and her mother were preparing Pazi to receive her new husband in the marital bed for the first time, the women’s mood grew sober, shattered only by an occasional giggle or nervous laugh. Those with children took their youngsters upstairs to bed, while others decided it was a good time to use the privy or get some fresh air in the moonlit garden. Zahra begged me to excuse her, promising to be in our kiton when I needed help undressing later.

  I was debating what to do, when the men began teasing Tachlifa about how to perform under the huppah, each comment more lewd than the last. The men’s backs were toward me, so I kept near the wall and listened. I could clearly hear their jokes and songs, whose content all related to sexual matters. My face burned as the most obscene of these came from my brothers, who taunted Tachlifa mercilessly. Ukva was slapping his thigh and laughing uproariously, but Rami looked more uncomfortable than enthusiastic.

  Part of me was appalled and wanted to l
eave, but another curious part wouldn’t let my legs move. So I remained rooted to the spot until my brother Keshisha discovered me.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Same as you, listening and learning.”

  “This is for men only…not for girls.” His words were slightly slurred, and I could smell the wine on his breath.

  I knew that was true but I wasn’t going to let him bully me. “And what are you going to do about it?”

  He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the door. “If you don’t leave, I’m going to tell Mother and Father.”

  I fled toward the room that Mother used for visitors. It had a door to the garden that I intended to use as soon as possible. But the room wasn’t empty. Instead of the usual cushions on the floor, an enormous curtained bed was illuminated by a woman holding a lamp.

  I could hear Mother’s voice addressing someone within. “Shall I go tell Tachlifa that his bride awaits him, or does Pazi need more time to prepare herself?”

  A muffled reply came from behind the curtains. “Just a little longer. She’s almost ready.”

  I couldn’t get to the garden this way, and I didn’t dare return to the traklin. So I waited and hoped that Mother wouldn’t think I’d been spying.

  When Mother eventually did come out, she seemed surprised to see me, but not angry. I accompanied her partway into the traklin, where a path through the throng of men opened for her. With a jerk of her chin, Mother indicated that I should head for the kitchen, where I found the musicians gulping down their evening meal.

  “Has the bridegroom left yet?” one of them called to me.

  “Not yet, but Mother went to get him.”

  “Hurry men,” the lead musician urged them. “We don’t have much time until we have to start playing again.”

  Dancing and drinking continued well into the night, both in the torch-lit traklin and in the courtyard bright under the nearly full moon. Guests shed their excess clothing, with mounds of men’s tunics and women’s veils piling up against the walls. Some women even removed their trousers, but as much as I wanted to show off my jeweled anklets, I was too shy to emulate them. Instead I hiked the legs up and created some fancy footwork to draw attention to my ankles as I danced.