Enchantress: A Novel of Rav Hisda's Daughter (46 page)

“I would like to see him,” Kardar said.

Of course the high priest could not enter the birthing chamber. Ifra was now impure, just as if she was
dashtana
, and she would pollute anyone she gazed upon. But the baby could come out, and the midwife had swaddled him in such a way that his gender was evident. For the next six days, at which time the Persians believed the child’s destiny would be fixed in Heaven and he received his name, Ifra and the baby would never be left alone.

When the great day arrived, crowds of people filled not only the roads outside Rav Nachman’s house, but those several blocks away. I was afraid there would be a riot, but Kardar was prepared. First he declared that one hour hence, after the new king’s name was announced, coins and gifts would be distributed at the palace gate. Then, after a fanfare of trumpets quieted the crowd, he proclaimed that their new sovereign would be known as King Shapur II. There was no reason to announce that little Shapur, like all Zoroastrian males, would remain uncircumcised.

When Adurbad arrived, hours later, traffic on the roads nearby had returned to normal. For someone who should have been jubilant, his visage was surprisingly somber. He apologized to Ifra for the magi’s negligence and confessed that under the cover of the festivities, Prince Hormizd had escaped from prison. Despite extensive searches, neither he nor his wife, Warazdukh, could be found.

 • • • 

Ifra and the magi may have worried about the couple’s disappearance, but all I cared about was how soon my baby would be born. I felt as big as one of Fulvius’s elephants, I had constant indigestion, and it seemed months since I’d slept comfortably. It had been many weeks since Rava and I had used the bed.

It didn’t help when he came back from court wearing the expression of one who’d found vinegar in his cup instead of wine.

“Today Rav Nachman reiterated his offer that I . . .” Rava hesitated and his cheeks reddened. “That I choose some of his slave girls to, uh, relieve my needs while you are indisposed.”

“How dare he!” I railed. “And how could you?”

I knew Nachman bedded his female slaves in addition to making them available to his guards. Leuton told me that Efra and Tobia were encouraged to use them too, and both did. Yet though I was well aware of my husband’s strong
yetzer hara
, it had never occurred to me that he might also enjoy this license.

“Which ones have you had?” It was a stupid thing to ask, guaranteed to pain me more, but I couldn’t bear seeing these girls every day and wondering whose bed he’d shared.

He sat down and put his arm around me. “I haven’t had any of them, Dodi. And I don’t intend to.”

“But, why not?”

“First, I have spent many years learning to control my
yetzer hara
so it may serve the Holy One and not shame Him.” He pulled me closer so my head rested on his shoulder. “Second, seeing other attractive women only makes me want you more.”

I looked up at his face, suffused with tenderness, and my eyes brimmed with tears of relief and joy. I was content to sit there in his arms forever, but I suddenly a felt a sharp pain in my belly. I couldn’t help myself; I sat up straight and gasped.

Rava eyes widened in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

“The baby is coming. You’d better call Shayla.”

He jumped up with alacrity, and I sagged back onto the bed. Two more contractions jolted me before he returned with Shayla and Leuton, who helped me downstairs to the windowless room next to Ifra’s.

“I’ll be out here, praying,” Rava whispered, his face drawn with worry. “No matter how long it takes.”

As with my other babies, it did not take long. Our fourth son was born at sunset, and Rava ate his evening meal only slightly later than usual.

 • • • 

Nine months later, the whereabouts of Prince Hormizd was still unknown. Queen Ifra had moved back to the palace with her son, and Kardar had dismissed his jinni at the same time. Both little Shapur and my baby, Acha, were just starting to crawl, and Chanina was at the age where he climbed, or tried to climb, wherever he could get a handhold.

Despite their nursemaids’ supervision, it seemed that one of my sons regularly needed to be rescued from a place he’d gotten into but couldn’t get out of. So I can only attribute what happened that summer to my heightened maternal anxiety. I was walking through the courtyard after using the privy when I noticed a tricolored cat, motionless except for her tail, her eyes focused on some prey. I stopped to watch and then backed away in alarm.

The cat was stalking a blacksnake.

Panic-stricken, I ran upstairs and threw open the basket that held the magic ring. Rava had learned nothing more about it, and after Mother’s dire warnings, neither of us felt sufficiently confident of our power to use it. But I was desperate with the need to protect my sons from any more snakes, and Solomon’s ring was supposed to let the wearer talk to animals. So I took it out.

Then I went to the kitchen, asked the assistant cook for a small fish, and returned to the courtyard, where the cat was now devouring her kill. Holding the fish in front of me, I slowly approached the cat. She eyed me suspiciously but didn’t back off, and when I stopped a short distance away, she went back to what little remained of the snake. I took a deep breath and slipped on the ring.

Nothing happened. I felt no change in my surroundings or myself; I sensed no magic of any kind. The cat kept eating and I kept watching her.

Slowly I held out the fish, and when the cat turned to look at it, I said softly, “Cat, would you like this fish?”

When the cat remained silent, I chided myself for being so silly as to think I was wearing Solomon’s ring. But I noticed that the cat was staring at me, so I tried again, this time reaching out so the cat would surely smell the fish.

“Cat, do you want this fish?”

I nearly fell over when the cat replied, “Yes. I have eaten enough snake, but my kittens are hungry.” Her voice was like a soft mewing, only with words.

I steadied myself and sat down. I was so astounded I could barely speak, but the cat did not seem even mildly surprised. “I will give you this fish for them if you will answer my questions.”

“I may not know the answers,” the cat replied.

“I will give it to you anyway.”

The cat sat down too. “What do you want to know?”

“This snake you killed. Where did it come from?”

The cat paused from washing her whiskers. “It lives in the woodpile. It has a nest there, but I cannot reach it.”

Just imagining a nest of blacksnakes made my skin crawl. “I will have the woodpile dismantled so you can.”

For a moment I thought the cat was going to thank me, but she said, “Can I have the fish now?”

“How did the snake get into the woodpile to begin with?”

“There are cracks in the wall behind it.”

“Then I will have them repaired.”

“Mice and rats come in that way,” the cat said. “How will my kittens eat until they are big enough to scale the wall?”

“Once you’ve killed all the snakes, I will give you as much fish as you want,” I replied. “Do you know my garden?”

“It has children in it. They try to catch me, so I only go there at night.”

“I will give you more fish there, and I will prevent the children from bothering you.”

“Can I have the fish now?”

“Yes.” I held the fish out and waited while she came and took it from my hand. “Thank you. You have been very helpful.”

With the fish clenched firmly in her mouth, the cat ran and hid behind the storage sheds. Thunderstruck by what had transpired, I sat there, on the ground, until a slave asked if something was wrong. I shook my head and held out my hand so she could help me up. Then I removed the ring and returned it to where I’d found it.

 • • • 

Rava watched intently as the woodpile was dismantled and the courtyard cats feasted on the snakes that were uncovered. Even when the cracks were repaired and the cat jumped into our garden one evening to receive her fish, he didn’t act completely convinced. It was only when I donned the ring and, after introducing Rava as my mate, conversed with the cat in his presence that he truly believed.

“We alone must know of this,” Rava declared.

 • • • 

During the next four years, rumors abounded as to Prince Hormizd’s fate. Some placed him in Armenia, some in the east, a few declared him dead. Thankfully, wherever he was, he made no attempt to wrest the throne from young King Shapur, nor did the fractious Roman emperors and would-be emperors.

Sadly the previous year saw a massive drought in Eretz Israel, and the famine that followed sent thousands fleeing eastward. But that wasn’t the only reason Jews fled. After generations of persecuting the Notzrim, Rome abruptly granted them the right to worship as they pleased. Their priests and bishops, emboldened by this new freedom, redoubled their efforts to gain converts, making life even more onerous for our brethren in the West.

Most Jews in Bavel were more concerned with the changes our new exilarch, Mar Ukva, might bring. His father, Nehemiah, had ruled for over forty years, but in that interval the rivalry between the rabbis and the
amei-ha’aretz
had escalated. It didn’t help that Rav Sheshet and his supporters thought the rabbis should run the courts without the exilarch’s approval, and Rava maintained that the rabbis should be exempt from taxes just as the magi were.

Despite all the changes in the world, my life wasn’t that different from when I first came to live at Rav Nachman’s. True, my sons were growing up, and without my parents’ protection, two of my brothers, Yenuka and Hanan, had died. But Rava was still Nachman’s disciple and, to my displeasure, on the path to becoming as arrogant as his teacher.

He and Joseph, now fourteen and tall as his father, seemed to battle over everything. No matter how often I pointed out the bad example this set for the students he’d acquired since Father died, Rava couldn’t seem to maintain his equanimity when Joseph provoked him. I was even less pleased by the way Joseph ogled Nachman’s slave girls. My son might be too shy or scared now to seek one out at night, but considering their easy availability, it couldn’t be long. Perhaps it would be best if Joseph went to Pumbedita to study with Abaye.

Yalta was no warmer to me than the day she became head sorceress. Yes, I had learned some interesting spells from her, but I suspected I could just as easily have acquired them from another
charasheta
who was more eager to teach me. Yet the one time I suggested visiting Nebazak, Yalta looked at me with such venom that I never mentioned it again. I contented myself with inscribing more
kasa d’charasha
.

I was further discouraged by my inability to become pregnant again after weaning Acha. My menses were no longer regular, a continual annoyance to me, and to Rava. Just when so many weeks had passed since I was
niddah
that I thought I had to be pregnant, I would start bleeding.

It had been over two months since I’d bled last, and I was watching with envy as my latest feline confidant was nursing the kittens she’d birthed in one of our storerooms. The cat looked up and meowed in such a way that I knew she had something to tell me. So I put on the ring, which we still didn’t know for certain was King Solomon’s, and sat down beside her.

“Yesterday, while you and the others were away, there was a man in your room who doesn’t usually go there.”

That got my attention. “What was he doing?”

“He pulled out that little chest you keep under the bed and took something out.”

I realized she had said he didn’t
usually
go there. “Has he been in my room before?”

“Yes, I have seen him several times.”

It was no use asking the cat why she hadn’t told me earlier. I went upstairs, berating myself for not hiding the key better, and opened the chest. The thief was clever. He had left all my jewelry and taken so few coins that only after I’d counted them did I know some were missing. I considered his opportunities until I fixed on the only one possible, which came weekly when I dined with Yalta and her noble friends in the courtyard garden while my children played nearby.

 • • • 

When the day came again, I locked the chest and tied the key in my sleeve. Then I found the cat.

“If you see him go up to my room, hurry and alert me so I can catch him,” I told her.

I had finished the main course and was beginning to give up hope when I felt the cat rubbing my leg. Mumbling an excuse, I hurried to my apartment and quietly climbed the stairs. From the landing I could see the chest on the bed and the intruder furiously searching the room.

He was one of the new guards Nachman had bought when Ifra was staying with us. Always fingering his collar as if it were too tight, he wore his hair longer than the other male slaves, more like a freeman. Most of the older guards occasionally smiled or spoke kindly to my sons, but this one was so surly that both Acha and Chanina were scared of him.

I stepped into the doorway and held up the key. “Are you looking for this?”

His dark eyes gazed to and fro like a mouse searching for escape from an approaching cat, but then his shoulders sagged in defeat as I called for help. Two other guards arrived shortly, followed by Yalta.

I let her take in the scene before I said, “I believe this is not the first time he has robbed us.”

The guards dragged the thief down to his quarters, where a search revealed my gold coins tied in his nightshirt. All this time I could see Yalta’s anger growing. Now with the proof before her, she was livid.

“Take him out near the well and tie his legs and arms together,” she directed the guards. Then she stalked into the
traklin
, where the other ladies, recognizing that trouble was brewing, were preparing to leave.

As soon as the last one was out the door, Yalta banged a metal jar so it clanged loudly. “I want everyone down here this instant,” she bellowed. As the household gathered, she turned to Sarkoi. “You may take the children away.”

Once everyone else was assembled, she led us outside to where the thief was lying in the dirt. “Strip him and tie his neck to that post,” she ordered.