Enchantress: A Novel of Rav Hisda's Daughter (10 page)

“But the law follows Beit Hillel, who says a man may divorce his wife if she merely overcooks his food, and Rabbi Akiva, who says even if he finds another more attractive.”

Rava sighed. “While I am lenient with others, I am strict with myself. For the prophet Malachi taught, ‘Let no one break faith with the wife of his youth, for I detest divorce, said Adonai.’”

I wanted to sigh as well, for I recalled a teaching from the West that supported Rava: Rabbi Yohanan interpreted Malachi’s words to mean that the Holy One despises anyone who sends his first wife away without an undeniable cause. But this was no time to share my learning.

“Then you give yourself no choice but to pray for Choran’s good health and wait out the remaining months until her ten years of barrenness force you to divorce her,” Abaye said.

“I pray for her most diligently, despite the consequences.”

“The consequences?” Abaye’s tone, which started out puzzled, abruptly became concerned. “Ah, for your second wife.”

“You see what a terrible position I am in.”

FIVE

T
he next morning Em took me aside as soon as the men left. “If I recall, today is not auspicious for inscribing amulets.”

I shrugged. “It wouldn’t matter if it were. I became
dashtana
last night.”

Em put her arm around my shoulder. “I have arranged for us to visit Pabak bar Itay, one of the most esteemed Chaldeans in Pumbedita. He studied for years at the astrologers school in Nippur, so he is well qualified to determine your horoscope,” she said. “I admit I am concerned about the implications of Bar Hedaya’s dream interpretations.”

“How can anyone, even the most expert Chaldean astrologer, cast my horoscope?” I protested. “I don’t know what day I was born, let alone the hour.”

Em smiled. “But I do. I was there.”

Somehow I had imagined Pabak a wizened old man. But he was rotund, with cheeks like ripe pomegranates, and his gray-streaked beard and hair curled in a most fashionable style. He seemed bursting with good humor.

“My dear Hisdadukh, I am so glad to meet you.” He pointed to a small courtyard teeming with poultry. “Pardon my lack of refreshments, but we will have plenty of time for them after you choose a hen and slaughter her.”

“What?” While I knew how to
shecht
a chicken, it was a procedure I rarely performed.

He chuckled at my dismay. “I require information that can only be obtained by examining the entrails of a hen you have personally chosen and killed.”

“You may as well choose a fat one, as we will be having her for our midday meal,” Em said.

I checked the knife for any nicks that would preclude a kosher slaughter. Then after satisfying myself that the blade was as sharp as necessary, I grabbed a likely candidate. Thankfully, my earlier training came back to me, and I severed the bird’s esophagus and trachea in one smooth stroke.

Pabak took the hen away while I washed. Slaves directed Em and me to his
traklin
, where wine, fruits, and nuts awaited us, a repast I was too nervous to eat.

Eventually a beaming Pabak returned. “I must say that I have never seen such an excellent horoscope. I will explain it to you fully, of course, but I recommend that you share it as little as possible, so as not to provoke the Evil Eye.”

“So my fate is not entirely determined by the stars?” I asked. What was the point of horoscopes if the Evil Eye could alter what they predicted?

“It is merely a precaution,” he replied.

I nodded. “I have been raised not to boast about my blessings and good fortune.”

“Good. Let us begin.” He pulled out a sheaf of papers covered with charts and signs I didn’t recognize. “You were born during the hour of the moon, with Gemini ascending. Thus you will learn swiftly and be skillful at whatever you undertake. In addition, because the moon is in her own house and has no planet in opposition”—he locked eyes with me—“you will not only be a leader but a powerful
charasheta
.”

Em clapped her hands with delight. “What else?”

“Mercury and Mars are in sextile, so you will enjoy profit in business. The sun in Taurus is trine to Leo in his own house, which benefits intelligence, knowledge, beauty, and vigor. Mercury is also in his own house, giving wisdom, clarity in speech and thought, and prophecy.”

“What about marriage and children?” I was too awed to speak louder than a whisper.

“Venus, ruler of the moon’s sign, is in her own house, ensuring you a long life with an abundance of children. With Venus in trine to Mars, your marriages will be prosperous, and with Jupiter in Aries, you will have at least five sons. A further benefit of being born during the hour of the moon while she is in her own house is that your pregnancies will be successful and your labors easy.”

“You said ‘marriages.’” I could feel my anxiety growing. “How many and how do they end?”

“This is where I needed the chicken entrails.” His cheerful voice now sobered. “You will have two husbands. The first will leave you a widow, and the second survive you. However, you have some control over this since your husbands’ life spans depend on when you marry them. Gemini and the moon are both nocturnal, so the longer your wedding nights, the longer each will live.”

I gulped in consternation. “I married my first husband in Sivan, and he lived less than five years.”

“And your second?” Pabak asked gently.

“I have not yet remarried.”

“You must marry during Hanukah,” Em said firmly.

Pabak began smiling again. “Indeed. Then you and your husband should both live until eighty at least.”

“Surely there are negatives,” I suggested.

“Scorpio is in the Place of Disease, so you will see some of your children die from illness. Saturn is in the Place of Journeys, so there is danger of premature death during a journey. But as women seldom travel to the extent that men do, you are relatively safe from that.”

Em and I exchanged glances. “While I was in the West, I nearly died from a
kashafa
’s Evil Eye,” I told Pabak. “And she cursed my daughter with a fatal disease.”

“I’m sorry, but you are likely to have at least one other child die before you as well,” he said. “Venus is in the Place of Enemies, so yours will certainly be women. But Jupiter is in the Place of Friends, so you will have allies among the powerful and noble.”

Before Em or I could ask another question, slaves brought out the meal. Between the excellent food and being absorbed with my own thoughts, I was content to say nothing while Em questioned Pabak about his training.

It was only when dessert was served that I realized Shadukh and Rishindukh had not reported a consultation with the Chaldeans. If Pabak was as knowledgeable as Em said, then perhaps he would know how astrology applied to incantations.

“Let me consider this while we have another cup of wine,” Pabak replied, his brow furrowing in response to my question.

His slaves refilled our cups. Sipping their contents slowly while nibbling on pastries, Em and I patiently awaited his reply. Abaye had been correct about the new vintage: the wine was excellent.

It seemed like an eternity before Pabak addressed us. “The time at which you install the bowls and speak the incantation is more important than when you inscribe them,” he began. “Since the moon is the mistress of magic, the position of the moon in the zodiac will determine a spell’s efficacy.”

He waited for Em and me to nod our understanding. “When the moon is in Virgo or Capricorn, any incantation should produce good results. Love spells are best cast when she is in Aquarius or Aries, binding spells in Leo, curse spells in Scorpio, and spells nullifying a curse in Gemini.”

“I must become more familiar with the heavens,” I said, relieved that this type of ignorance could be remedied.

He smiled. “It is not difficult. The constellations always ascend in the same order.”

 • • • 

That Shabbat the autumn weather was cool and dry, so Rava and I could walk the steepest streets with no worries about mud or becoming overheated. I was not surprised to find him reticent, but I pressed him about the week’s cases anyway.

“Court was filled with liars and cheats,” he grumbled. “I wish I could just study Torah in peace and not have to deal with such miscreants.”

I tried to lighten the mood. “But if everyone were honest, we wouldn’t need courts and rabbis wouldn’t have jobs.”

I had deliberately not said that he wouldn’t have a job, but he glared at me nevertheless. We continued up the hill in silence, and after we paused to catch our breaths at the top, he said, “True, but one deceiver was more egregious than usual.”

“How so?” This should be interesting.

“A man who owed some
zuzim
came to court along with the lender,” Rava began. “When the lender asked for payment, the borrower replied that he had already paid. So I told him to swear to it, upon which the borrower handed his cane to the lender, took up a Torah scroll, and swore that he had given the lender exactly what he owed him, directly into his hand.”

“What happened next?”

Rava kicked at a rock on the road. “The lender became so angry that he dashed the borrower’s cane to the floor, where it broke and a flood of coins spilled out.”

“So the borrower swore the truth,” I said, astounded at the man’s clever subterfuge. “But I learned a Baraita that when judges have a man swear, they must tell him that he swears according to their and the court’s understanding, not according to some condition in his own mind.”

“Do you think I don’t know that Baraita?” he snapped. “But this man swore his oath before I could admonish him.”

Asking Rava to share more court cases was only likely to make him more annoyed. So despite my reluctance to reveal my horoscope, I knew one piece of information ought to make him feel better.

“I have learned something recently that should be welcome news to you.”

He looked at me skeptically but replied, “I would appreciate some welcome news for a change.”

“Em took me to consult an expert Chaldean, and, among other things, he told me that you bear no responsibility for Rami’s untimely death.”

Rava stopped and stared at me. “How could he ascertain something like that?”

I repeated Pabak’s explanation. “Thus Rami died young because we married in early summer, when the nights are short.”

Rava was lost in thought for so long that I had to restrain myself from interrupting his reverie.

Finally, avoiding my gaze, he said, “Then you will want to marry again in Tevet.”

“
Peshita
.” This was the term rabbis used when someone made a statement so obvious it was pointless to question it.

We walked to the dock and silently watched the boats sail by. It seemed to cost Rava a great effort when he turned to ask me, “Did the Chaldean say anything about children?”

I wanted to shout with joy, but I replied calmly, “He said I would bear at least five sons.” I did not mention that at least one of them would likely die before me.

For a moment I saw the hope in Rava’s eyes, but he turned his attention to the road as we started up the hill again. Then he surprised me by changing the subject. “All these weeks I’ve been telling you what I’ve been learning. For a change, tell me what you’ve learned from Em.”

“She taught me several ways to cure a fever,” I replied. “For a daily fever you go to a salt deposit, take a silver
zuz’
s weight in salt, and tie it with a white twisted cord against the nape of the patient’s neck.”

“What if there are no salt deposits nearby?”

“Then go to a crossroads and when you see a large ant carrying something, capture it and seal it in a brass tube closed with lead. Immediately lift it up, shake it, and say three times, ‘Your burden on me and my burden on you.’”

Rava was quiet for only a few moments. “But what if someone else has already found the ant and cast an illness on it? Then the patient would merely trade his fever for a new one.”

I smiled, pleased to hear that Rava’s intellect was as sharp as ever. “I asked Em the same question, and she told me to say instead, ‘My burden and your burden on you.’”

“What else have you learned?” he asked eagerly.

He sounded so impatient that an alarming idea occurred to me. While Em had not forbidden me to share any of her teachings, she had not given me permission either. Now what had I done?

I remained silent for some time before finally saying, “I’m not sure I’m allowed to tell anyone her secrets.”

“I understand,” Rava said. “Maybe you can tell me in general what Em taught you, not the specifics?”

I recalled a Mishna that had to do with healing. “Remember in Tractate Yoma, where it teaches not to feed a mad dog’s liver to a person it has bitten?” I asked.

When he nodded, I continued. “But why not feed him the dog’s liver? It shouldn’t matter that it’s
treif
. A Baraita teaches that one rubbed by a mad dog is in danger, and one who is bitten will die.” I asked the question in a tone that made it clear I already knew the answer.