Enchantress: A Novel of Rav Hisda's Daughter (13 page)

Though I should have been pleased to hear that he still desired me, my outrage at his accusation rose up and boiled over like an overheated soup pot. “How can you, someone with such a reputation for sharpness, be so stupid?” I deliberately employed the insult that he had hurled against my older brother years ago in Father’s classroom. “I was merely a child when you first wanted me, far too young to understand such a sophisticated incantation, let alone cast one.”

“Then someone else did it for you,” he growled. “Mari’s wife or someone your mother hired.”

“You are being even more absurd.” My heart was pounding and I had to pause to catch my breath. “Why would they, or anyone, want to do that?”

Rava stopped to consider this, and slowly his temper cooled. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking properly,” he said, suddenly contrite. Yet there was a hint of guilt in his eyes.

Why should he feel guilty?

An astonishing insight came to me. “You just accused me of doing what you’ve done yourself.” I glared at him. “I remember that spell from
Sepher ha-Razim
, the one that invokes the angels of the fourth firmament.”

Rava blushed and started to back away, but I advanced on him. “You know what I’m talking about, that spell to bind yourself to the heart of a wealthy or beautiful woman.”

“No, no, I’m innocent,” he insisted. “I swear it.”

“You don’t look innocent,” I pressed him.

Gradually his composure crumbled. “I admit that I wanted to do it. I even planned to do it.” He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “But I couldn’t procure any lion’s blood.” He looked more mortified than when Em had questioned him about Bar Hedaya’s dream interpretations.

I was furious. Rava had intended to use dark magic against me, yet even knowing that, I still wanted him. But worse was that he had destroyed my
kavanah
right before I was to install these bowls. The tenth hour of Sixth Day was one of the six especially propitious hours of the week, when the Heavenly Host were most open to a
charasheta
’s appeal. What if I couldn’t recover in time?

“Get out of my sight,” I hissed. “I have work to do.”

 • • • 

Em, Leuton, and I left for Dakya’s house at the beginning of the ninth hour, my argument with Rava still in my ears. I knew I was not as composed as I should be. Em had encouraged me to wear a perfume more sultry than my usual etrog blossom. So having nothing else, I put on the labdanum I’d bought in the desert, which promptly recalled the time I’d first worn it. I forced myself to walk slowly, to try to think of something else, and then it came to me.

By accusing Rava of having used a spell to bind my heart to him, I had just revealed that I believed his spell had worked, that he had made me desire him. He may have been too ashamed at that moment to recognize the import of what I’d said, but surely he would see it eventually.

My spirits soared as I imagined our reconciliation. Even finding Dakya’s courtyard crowded with onlookers, despite my admonitions that this procedure should be done in secret to prevent Dakya’s father from interfering, didn’t faze me. In a few hours it would be Shabbat, and the man would not likely be home until after sunset, when evening services were over.

Once the holes were dug, including one under the window to Dakya’s bedroom, I placed each bowl’s shards in position and donned my white robes. But instead of closing my eyes, I looked up to where bright Venus shone in the western sky. I was brimming with love, and as I used my most seductive voice to chant the incantation, I found myself invoking the Eternal that not only should Dakya’s heart burn for Chatoi, but Rava’s should continue to burn for me.

Only those closest to me, including Dakya, Chatoi, and their families, were able to understand my words, but everyone in range of my voice could feel the passion and persuasion in it. Venus sparkled intensely as I finished, and I knew the angels had heard me. Nobody wanted to break the silence, so it seemed a very long time before Dakya whispered his thanks, followed by Chatoi and their mothers. Women in the crowd suddenly noticed the lateness of the hour and realized they needed to return home to finish preparing for Shabbat.

But the gate was blocked by a commotion, and one man’s angry voice rose above the others. “What the devil is going on here?”

Aghast, Dakya and Chatoi could only stare at each other, while Gerbita blurted out, “Oh no, that’s my husband!”

Em took Gerbita’s hand. “There is nothing he can do now. The spell is cast.”

I had to face the man, so I prepared to assume my most imposing
charasheta
persona. But then I recognized another man’s voice, a deeply authoritative one, one so persuasive the angry man was forced to listen.

I turned to the lovers’ families and smiled. “Don’t worry. Rava is talking to him now, and nobody is better at convincing an opponent to alter his opinion.”

 • • • 

Rava didn’t mention Dakya or Chatoi for a week, until Abaye bounded into the
traklin
for the midday meal, his face beaming with pleasure. When Rava entered at a more sedate pace, Abaye slapped him gleefully around the shoulders.

“He did it, Em. He and Hisdadukh did it,” Abaye shouted. “The wedding will be next week.”

“Thank Heaven,” I said.

“Dakya’s father was a tough negotiator,” Rava said to me. “I never could have convinced him if you hadn’t cast that spell on his son first.”

I wanted to cry with disappointment. If I hadn’t been one of the combatants, I might have thought our fight over love spells had never happened. Clearly Rava had not recognized the implications.

“Threatening him with a
mi shepara
curse was a brilliant idea,” Abaye said. “He came around quickly after that.”

“What is a
mi shepara
curse?” Homa asked at the same time that I said, “I thought the
mi shepara
curse was for someone who reneged on a business transaction.”

Abaye turned to Homa and said gently, “A Mishna teaches that if a buyer gives a seller money but has not yet taken the produce, either may retract. But the Sages say this about one who reneges on an agreement: He Who (
mi
) exacted retribution (
shepara
) from the Generation of the Flood and from the Generation of Babel’s Dispersion will exact retribution from one who does not abide by his word.”

Rava addressed my concern. “The curse says nothing about a specific kind of transaction. The Mishna speaks of business agreements because those are the ones people renege on most commonly.”

“I would merely have warned him of Elohim’s curse, but Rava intimated that he intended to curse the man himself.” Abaye shook his head in disbelief, but his voice was full of awe.

“And I would have,” Rava declared.

“Enough about curses. When is the wedding?” Em asked.

“On Fourth Day,” Abaye replied. “As usual for virgins.”

Em winked at me. “I hope you have something nice to wear.” When I looked at her in alarm, she continued, “After what you did to facilitate the match, you will certainly be a special guest of the bride’s family.”

“I suppose I must attend as well, and not just because it is expected.” Rava sighed with resignation. “My presence will be needed to ensure that the nuptials take place as planned.”

“I’m sure you four will have a wonderful time,” Homa’s voice was wistful. “I’ll stay here with the girls.”

I gave Homa a pleading look. “But you must come with us. I need a friend to dance with.”

Homa shook her head. “It’s bad enough I have to endure all those disapproving looks at synagogue. Why should I suffer them at a stranger’s wedding, especially when there’s no hope that I will ever marry again?”

“But we only make a presumption based on three cases,” Abaye protested, “not two.”

“He’s correct,” I said. “A Baraita teaches that although Rebbi says a woman who married twice and whose husbands have both died may not marry a third, Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel disagrees and rules that she may be married a third time, but not a fourth.”

“You two can make all the arguments you like.” Homa’s voice was bitter. “As far as Pumbedita is concerned, I’m a
katlanit
, which means no man will risk his life to marry me.”

“I will also stay home.” Abaye’s eyes were on Homa. “It is too soon after Babata’s death for me to attend the wedding of a stranger.”

 • • • 

It seemed unkind to Homa and Abaye to express how delighted I felt about attending the wedding, so I said nothing. But after suffering with so many of Em’s stricken patients, I needed a celebration with dancing and a feast. The month of Adar had just begun, and the Rabbis taught that in Adar happiness increases.

Leuton’s hazel eyes, a tribute to her Roman-soldier father, gleamed with anticipation. It was unthinkable that a woman of my prominence would attend a wedding without a personal slave to serve her. Leuton, who cared more about my clothes than I did, insisted I wear my finest outfit. These were the blue silks Pazi had given me before she married my brother Tachlifa and the matching gold anklets studded with lapis lazuli. I had grown taller since receiving the tunic and trouser outfit, with the serendipitous result that the anklets were now clearly visible below the cuffs and would catch the light when I danced.

She took an inordinate amount of time to arrange my hair in elaborate curls and braids, the latter interwoven with blue silk ribbons, then made me close my eyes while she applied my makeup. When I looked in the mirror, I scarcely recognized myself.

“Leuton, you have outdone yourself. Aren’t you afraid I’ll outshine the bride?” I teased her. Of course a widow like me, in her midtwenties, would never outshine a bride still in her teens.

Blushing at my praise, Leuton pulled out the vial of labdanum and proceeded to anoint me. Hoping this would be another way for Rava to discern my feelings, I’d begun wearing the labdanum periodically since our argument over the love spells. He might have told Abaye that my perfume was of no concern to him, but the way he startled when he smelled me wearing it belied his words.

There was no mistaking his appreciation when I came downstairs. His eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped, only to immediately revert to a more respectful expression. Em’s eyes twinkled with pleasure, while Homa gave me a wistful smile.

With his elbow, Abaye prodded Rava, who wore a slightly large green silk tunic over linen trousers with matching green trim. “Aren’t you glad I had you borrow my clothes today?”

Rava did look handsome, although Tobia could have made more of an effort to tame his master’s hair and beard. “I hope Rav Yosef’s students behave themselves as well as they dress,” he replied.

Abaye nodded sympathetically and sent us on our way. Em waited to join several well-dressed older women, leaving Rava and me to continue on together.

I waited for Rava to say something about my outfit or perfume, but, to my surprise, he wanted to talk about Abaye. “I am worried that Abaye is having difficulty with his
yetzer hara.
Lately he has been gazing at Homa in a lustful manner.”

I rolled my eyes. “All men gaze at her that way.”

“I don’t.”

I had to admit that was true. “But Abaye hasn’t had the benefit of studying with Rav Oshaiya, as you have.”

“It’s more than how he looks at her.” Rava stepped closer and lowered his voice. “He complains that the
yetzer hara
incites Torah scholars more than anyone and gave me an example involving himself.”

“What happened?” It had only been three months since Babata died, and Abaye’s
yetzer hara
was bothering him already?

“He was inspecting his fields, when he overheard a man saying to a woman, ‘Let us go off together.’ Abaye followed them, thinking that he would prevent them from sinning.”

“Did he?”

Rava shook his head. “He didn’t need to, for they parted at a crossroads, lamenting that their agreeable companionship would soon end. But instead of relief, Abaye felt dispirited. He told me he certainly could not have restrained himself in that situation.”

“I didn’t realize Abaye was such a sensitive soul.”

“He felt so dejected at how sinfully he would have behaved, worse than a common man, that he nearly collapsed,” Rava said. “But then an old man appeared and consoled him, saying that the greater a man, the greater his
yetzer hara.
”

From the reverent way Rava said “an old man,” I knew whom he meant. “The prophet Elijah came down to tell him this? Abaye should feel honored.”

“He feels more shame than honor.”

“If Abaye’s
yetzer hara
is tormenting him, he should look for another wife. His urges won’t bother him so much if he has bread in his basket.” Father taught that a hungry man with bread in his basket isn’t so desperate for food as one who doesn’t know where his next meal will come from.

“And if the bread in his basket is moldy?”

Rava might have been referring to Abaye and comparing Homa to bad bread, but the bitterness in his voice made me think he meant himself. So I answered equivocally, “Then he should discard it and replace it with good bread.”

I’d never know how Rava would have responded, for just then the air filled with savory banquet aromas, and, moments later, Chatoi’s brother beckoned and led us through the crowded courtyard to where the guests of honor sat. Gerbita waved me over to the women’s side, and I left Rava to find his own place among the men.

 • • • 

I would never have suspected that Dakya’s father had opposed the match. He was an excellent host, providing a lavish feast, not only to those in the
traklin
and courtyard but also to the less honored folks at tables out on the street. We dined on delicacies like roasted deer and succulent duck, and even the common dishes were made special with expensive seasonings like saffron, cumin, and pepper. His slaves continuously refilled countless wine cups. A wedding banquet was a mitzvah meal, which meant that, as with a funeral or brit milah, the entire community was entitled to attend.

The musicians were so lively it was impossible to sit still. Em laughed and waved off those who invited her to dance, but I jumped up at every opportunity. Dancing was preferable to chatting with the strangers sitting near me, women who regarded me with wonder or fear, and sometimes both. As the day wore on, I became aware that more than a few men were regarding me with interest and appreciation.