Apprentice (15 page)

Zahra took my hand and urged me to move faster. “Don't worry. You'll soon be too busy to feel the cold.”

“What's happening? Why is everyone in such a rush?”

“Your canals never got stopped up in Kafri?” she asked in disbelief.

“I don't know. We didn't live next to one.”

“All canals get blocked with debris eventually,” she explained. “If it's downstream, the canal overflows its banks, leaving fish all over the fields.”

Suddenly one of our slaves ran past me, a basket full of squirming fish in her arms.

“Oh no! They're tossing up fish from in the canal itself,” Zahra said. “It must be blocked upstream.”

“What's wrong with that?” At least I wouldn't be slogging through a muddy field.

“It's dangerous for those in the canal. When the debris is cleared upstream, a giant wave will come rushing down.”

The sky had lightened sufficiently that I could make out the slight rise of the embankment ahead. Zahra had just bent down to scoop up a fish when, splat, a large one landed at my feet. Ashamed of standing around watching while everyone was working so hard, I quickly threw it in my basket and set about gathering more.

Zahra was right about not feeling cold. Between running to pick up fish and then racing home with them, I was in constant motion. The sun was just peeking over the date palms when a woman on the embankment shouted, “The canal is cleared. Hurry, the water is coming!”

Men raced to help our workers out of the muddy canal. Our lookout must have had keen eyesight, because it was several moments before I could distinguish, in the early morning light, the approaching brown water from the equally brown mud.

Some of our crew delayed, to grab just one more fish, until Father began yelling, “Everyone out now!”

I watched with increasing anxiety as several men struggled to wrench their legs from the ooze that kept sucking them down. Hands reached out and a chain of men strained to pull their comrades free. I could hear the gushing water closing in when the last of our workers scrambled up the embankment and collapsed at the top. I let out my breath in relief to see that my brothers and Father's students, especially Rami, were safe.

Once back in the courtyard, we waited silently near the wells while slaves brought us warm bread and washed our muddy hands and feet. Our work with the fish wasn't finished, however; they still needed to be gutted, cleaned, salted, and dried. The best fish disappeared whole into the kitchen, where they would undoubtedly become ingredients in the next few days' meals.

When it was time to carry the clean fish halves up to the roof, Father, his students, and my brothers made a hasty exit. The courtyard cats, whom I thought would have eaten their fill of fish entrails, headed to the roof, winding between the legs of those going upstairs. Since even Mother was hefting baskets of fish on her shoulders, I knew I wouldn't be excused yet.

Once on the roof, I saw that someone had anticipated our task by laying out woven hemp mats and covering them with salt. Zahra was already seated, placing the fish tightly together on the salt until the mat was completely covered. Then Shayla poured more salt over the fish, and Zahra began another layer. Though nobody fed the cats, they circled the mats and meowed hopefully.

Finally I had a task that didn't involve running. I sat down opposite Zahra and began depositing fish at the mat's far end, but instead of adding more salt when we finished that layer, this time a new hemp mat went on first. And so it went: mat, salt, fish, salt, fish, and then another mat. The process repeated until the stack of fish and salt reached our chests, at
which time heavy boards were hefted on top to press out the brine and close any gaps. Imarta and Haruta built another pile next to us, and with all the women working together, the roof was almost completely covered with towers of salted fish when it came time for our evening meal.

Thankfully, my job was finished. The piles stood outside for a week, after which they were turned over to cure longer. Then kitchen slaves hung the salted fish to dry until the moisture, and the fishy smell, evaporated. This took weeks in the rainy season, and only then was the cured salt fish stored away. By that time it was almost spring.

The week before Achti's wedding, Father surprised me by including me in his premarital-advice lecture to Achti in the garden, where the land was verdant with new growth. The roses weren't blooming yet, but tulips and buttercups put on a colorful show.

“Your mother and I have been blessed with a good and fruitful marriage,” he began. “From all our years together, I have acquired some wisdom on the subject, which I hope will benefit you and your husbands.”

“Yes, Father,” Achti replied, while I merely nodded.

“It is important that a man not come to desire another woman, especially when he and his wife are in bed together.”

Achti blushed at his mention of the marital bed, and I felt my face warming too. Surely Father didn't intend to discuss sexual matters with us. Not that I was innocent of these things. I had seen our goats mating.

“Thus you should be careful that he does not find anything repulsive about you.” His tone was so serious that I began to worry about what examples he would tell us next.

“Do not eat herbs at night, lest your husband smell your foul breath. Nor drink beer, which will make you flatulent.” Achti let out a nervous giggle, while I barely managed to suppress mine. “Don't eat dates or other dried fruit at night, lest you suffer diarrhea. For your husband will certainly be disgusted when he hears you using the chamber pot.”

Naturally Father found those things repulsive. He was so fastidious that while most scholars would pray once they were four cubits away from excrement in the street, Father insisted on standing four cubits away from where the air no longer stank.

Sure enough, Father added, “And if you need to relieve yourself outdoors, do it where your husband will see neither you nor any trace of your excrement.”

Was Father only going to talk about how to avoid repulsing our husbands? Maybe he noticed that we were viewing him with anxiety, because he said, “A wife also needs to make herself attractive to her husband in addition to not offending him.”

Achti and I looked at him with more interest. “A woman should always be modest before her husband, keeping parts of her body hidden,” he said. “So he will not become too familiar with her and take her for granted.”

“I don't understand,” Achti said. “I thought we aren't supposed to use the bed in our clothes like the Persians do.”

I was both impressed and shocked that my sister knew what Persians did in their beds. Father, however, answered her in the same calm and serious tone he'd been using. “You are quite correct that a husband and wife should perform the holy deed naked, but that doesn't mean she flaunts her body before him.”

He reached into his purse and pulled out a large pearl in his right hand. “Here is an example to explain what I mean.”

Achti and I crowded close to see it. “It's beautiful,” she said, while I merely sighed with delight.

Then he put his left hand into his purse, but kept his fist clenched when he removed it.

“What do you have there, Father?” Achti asked eagerly. “Is it another pearl?”

Father smiled and kept his hand closed. “Maybe it's a different jewel?” I said, wondering if it was a ruby or a sapphire. “Won't you let us see it?”

He waited until we were begging to see the treasure in his hand. Then abruptly he acquiesced, but on his open palm sat a lump of charcoal.

As we gave voice to our disappointment and irritation, Father chuckled. “In your eagerness to see what I had hidden, though it was merely an ugly piece of burnt wood, you ignored the beautiful pearl that was sitting right in plain sight.”

“Oh.” Achti's eyes open wide as she nodded.

I too understood his lesson. “A husband may come to disregard even the most beautiful wife if she is always on display,” I said.

“And he may come to covet another woman, even an ugly one, who hides herself from him,” Achti continued.

“Exactly,” Father said. “Now you must learn how much to conceal or reveal, and when, so your husband will desire you and only you.”

First he tossed the charcoal into the bushes. Then he turned to Achti and placed the pearl in her hand. “This is my wedding present to you, so you should remember my advice whenever you see it.”

As soon as Achti and I went upstairs, I was determined to hear how she learned what the Persians did in bed.

“Some women at synagogue are converts,” she replied. “And I know lots more than that.”

“What do you mean?” Had Achti been with Ukva already?

“You're not the only one who likes to spy on people from the roof. I've seen Timonus with the head laundress, as well as our nephews' tutors with the kitchen slaves.”

Too shocked to question her further, I closed my eyes and said my evening prayers. It didn't seem fair that just when Achti was starting to talk to me like an equal, she'd be getting married and living somewhere else.

For a moment a terrible thought assailed me. What if I weren't allowed to attend her wedding at Ukva's? After all, children almost never went to banquets away from home, for fear that some stranger would admire them and, Heaven forbid, provoke the Evil Eye against them.

Everyone knew that the Evil Eye was responsible for a great deal of misery in the world. Rav, Father's teacher, once went to a cemetery and cast a spell that let him talk to the dead. Ninety-nine told him they'd died from the Evil Eye, and only one from bad air.

THIRTEENTH YEAR OF KING BAHRAM II'S REIGN

•     286
CE
     •

J
ust as my betrothal brought me into other adult venues, it privileged me to attend Achti's wonderful wedding. My fun started when mother let Zahra make my hair and makeup as fancy as she liked, then continued with the arrival of musicians who accompanied the wedding party all the way from our house to Ukva's. As the sun slowly set behind us, Achti rode in a litter like a princess, while the rest of us walked with torches.

There were so many people that even the courtyard was crowded, and their laughter and banter filled the air. The women dressed in gorgeous silks, and most of the men too. Achti and Ukva disappeared under the bridal canopy soon after the mitzvah meal, and then the dancing really got lively. I thought my feet were going to melt and it wasn't yet midnight. I wanted to celebrate until dawn, like my brothers, but I was so tired that I went home early in the litter with Rahel, who was so hugely pregnant that everyone was surprised to see her there.

The next day, however, I learned that my parents didn't find the wedding so wonderful at all. And since most of the family, and all Father's students, were still asleep, he and Mother felt no need to censor their criticism.

“Ha-Elohim! I have never been so ashamed in my life.” Father shuddered. “To think that they almost ran out of food at my daughter's wedding.”

“I thought we'd given more than our share by supplying the beer,
kids, and poultry,” Mother said. “Thank Heaven I noticed the dearth of meat and had time to send for more kids.”

Father brandished a piece of flatbread at Mother. “There was scarcely sufficient old wine for the groom's blessings.”

“Perhaps Pushbi didn't realize how many guests would attend because of your prominence, Father.” For Rami's sake, I felt I should make some defense of his mother. “She's never had a wedding at her house before.”

“It's generous of you to make excuses for her,” Father said. “But Sura is a big city, and I'm sure Pushbi has attended many weddings here.”

Mother shook her head and frowned. “Enough to know that the bride's musicians only play for the procession from her house to her husband's. The groom's musicians are supposed to be responsible for accompanying the dancing.”

“Except there weren't any groom's musicians.” Father slapped his hand on the table, causing both of them to wince at the sudden noise. “It is well that we had those extra fermentations of beer this year—to pay for our musicians to stay all night.”

“And for the extra food,” Mother added. “Plus we'll likely have to host a brit milah banquet in less than a month, although I hope the baby can wait long enough that we won't have to host it during Pesach.”

I gazed at her in amazement. “How do you know Rahel is having a boy? Did she ask the Chaldeans?”

This made my parents smile and exchange knowing glances. “There was no need consult astrologers,” Father said with just a hint of pride. “Boys tend to run in our family.”

Now that he mentioned it, I not only had seven brothers compared with one sister, but I also had quite a few more nephews than nieces. I continued eating in silence while my parents muttered about how Pushbi's beef was tough and lean, her bread baked from coarsely sifted flour, her desserts of insufficient variety, and made a myriad of other complaints. I didn't know if I should be worried about my future in her household or if no one could meet my parents' impossibly high standards.