Apprentice

by Maggie Anton

  To my surprise, I felt a sudden heat below, merely thinking about touching him there. That gave me the idea that I could tell Rami what he should do to kindle my desire. Hadn’t he told me that men got aroused by thinking about using the bed?

  So I would make him think about it.

  It was easier said than done, however. The night I finally stopped bleeding, I doused myself with perfume. But though the wedding guests were quieter and we spent a great deal of time kissing, Rami was still unable to become sufficiently aroused. And despite my earlier determination, I felt too shy to either touch him or ask him to touch me in such an intimate manner.

  Worse, when I asked if he liked my perfume, he replied that his sister wore the same fragrance. His sister! I reminded him of his sister. I found Rav Josiah among the guests and he willingly exchanged the rose perfume for the etrog blossom scent I’d worn before.

  The next day I chastised myself for being such a coward. Despite my lack of experience in such matters, I suspected that the longer Rami suffered this problem, the more intractable it would be. I’d inscribed more than a few bowls whose incantations demanded that demons and evil spirits unbind a certain man and never attack him again.

  That night I encouraged Rami to come to bed shortly after the evening meal. My brothers chortled and made a few lewd comments as we left, but thankfully nobody followed us. Rami didn’t seem particularly eager and in fact gave up after far less kissing than the previous night, despite my new perfume. But I had my plan of action ready.

  “Rami,” I said gently. “Before the wedding, my sisters-in-law explained what kinds of things they liked their husbands to do in bed.”

  As I’d hoped, he was intrigued. “What did they tell you?”

  “Let me show you.”

  “Very well.” But there was skepticism in his voice.

  I took a deep breath and placed his hand on my breast. “They recommended squeezing my nipples, and kissing them too.”

  Rami had no difficulty discerning what to do, but I was completely unprepared for the astonishing sensation his fingers created. Pleasure shot from my breast, down my belly to that secret place below. My breathing quickened and I couldn’t suppress a soft moan of desire.

  He pulled his hand away. “Are you hurt?”

  “Don’t stop,” was all I could whisper.

  He brought his hand back to manipulate my nipple and then surprised me by leaning over to kiss the other one. The heat between my thighs flared, and I felt an intense yearning unlike anything I had ever known.

  My heart was racing and my breath was coming faster. Desire coursed through me, and the aching between my legs intensified. I didn’t understand how his fingers and lips on my breasts could have such delicious effects below, only that I yearned for more.

  This time I didn’t use words to tell him what to do. While his lips remained busy on one breast, I took his hand and forced it down my torso and over my hips, to rest between my legs. As he stroked the skin of my inner thighs, I gasped and squirmed sensuously. Desperate to quench the fire that was now burning just beyond his reach, I sought his hand and urged it upward.

  Either someone had instructed him or it was instinctive, but Rami’s fingers expertly explored my hidden crevices and folds. I had never imagined that such delights existed. Every time he tongued my nipple, a jolt of heat seemed to shoot directly down to where his hand was kneading the mouth of my womb. My excitement threatening to overwhelm me, I whimpered and groaned whenever he found a particularly sensitive spot.

  He quickly discovered how to bring about my greatest response, and further caresses made my ardor flare until I was lost in desire. I was panting now, and with each breath came a blissful moan. Just when I thought I was going to die of rapture, my body was seized with paroxysms of ecstasy. I cried out and thrashed around the bed, but Rami kept his fingers working until I could bear no more and abruptly pulled away.

  “That was incredible,” I whispered when I was finally calm enough to speak. “Nobody told me…”

  He closed my mouth with a kiss, one whose fierceness was utterly unlike the tame kisses we’d shared earlier. I reached down to stroke his thigh and was rewarded by his sudden intake of breath. He made no effort to remove my hand, so my fingers crept slowly upward until they found his member, rigid and throbbing in my grip.

  In a moment he was on top of me and my legs were straddling his buttocks. Then he was inside me, pushing and withdrawing with increasing strength. My passion was instantly rekindled, so that each time he drew back, my legs urged him back in. My breath came faster and I moaned with pleasure as he reached my full depth.

  Almost immediately he felt even bigger and harder, and he began driving into me again, and again, seemingly in frenzy. A second time I was overcome with ecstasy, and soon afterward he cried out softly and collapsed on top of me. Overwhelmed by the experience, I had no sense of how long we lay there coupled together, my heart pounding in my chest and my womb throbbing below. I had emitted seed not once but twice. Not only was there no pain, Mother’s description, “extremely pleasurable,” was utterly inadequate to express what I’d experienced.

  “Dodi li va’ani lo.” I nuzzled Rami’s neck and murmured the verse from Song of Songs in his ear—“My beloved is mine and I am his.”

  “How sweet is your love, my bride,” he whispered further verses back to me. “Your love is finer than wine.”

  A pleasant lethargy was seeping through me, and I barely noticed when Rami’s weight lifted off me. I dimly felt his arms encircle me and pull me closer before I slipped into sleep.

  Mutual need forced us awake well before dawn, when we had plenty of time to assure ourselves that our earlier delights were not a stroke of luck but were, in fact, easily repeated. All that day we gazed at each other in wonder, and as soon as the sun set, we hurried to our nuptial chamber to revel in our newly discovered pleasures.

  I was happily contemplating my future as Rami’s wife while Zahra and I packed our things for the move to his home, when Zahra abruptly stopped and grabbed her belly. She did it again a short while later, so I observed her closely until a sudden suspicion filled me with dismay.

  “Zahra, would you lift up your tunic?”

  Her face blanched and it was soon evident why she was reluctant to show her body. Zahra was pregnant. While I watched, a tiny ripple of movement gave evidence of the baby she carried. My heart sank when I realized who the father had to be.

  “Keshisha?”

  She nodded, her eyes wide with fear. “I swear I did nothing to encourage him. Don’t sell me, I beg you.”

  “When is the baby due?” I asked. Only married Jewish women used the mikvah, not slaves, and I’d been too preoccupied recently to notice that Zahra hadn’t been dashtana.

  “In early Elul,” she choked out.

  “Stay here until I return,” I ordered her.

  All thoughts of marital happiness fled. I had neglected my duty to Yenuka. Right under my nose, my brother Keshisha had continued to lie with my maidservant, and this was the result. It didn’t matter who encouraged whom. I had no choice but to find my eldest brother, admit my failure, and hope he’d know how to remedy this fiasco.

  It was a relief to find the two of them together downstairs, discussing beer making. I didn’t dare make my announcement in public, so all I said was, “I need both of you to come up to my kiton. It’s important.”

  Was it my imagination or did trepidation briefly cloud Keshisha’s face? Zahra was crying when we reached my room, and she shrank back as soon as she saw who was with me. Keshisha stood rooted to the spot, his gaze switching between Zahra and Yenuka, whose hands had clenched into fists.

  “He said he loved me,” she exclaimed. “That he’d free me and marry me.”

  I knew Zahra was telling the truth, but I doubted my brother had been.

  Yenuka’s face grew red with anger. He grabbed Keshisha by the tunic and yanked him so their faces were almost touching. “You told her that?
Are you insane?”

  Keshisha broke away. “Why shouldn’t we marry? Father just freed the potter’s daughter so she could.”

  How could my brother be so stupid? “Haven’t you paid attention to anything in Father’s lectures?” I asked with disgust. “A Kohen is forbidden to marry a zonah. And even if Zahra hadn’t been with other men before you, a Kohen is also forbidden to marry a convert.”

  “Let her be my concubine, then,” Keshisha begged.

  Yenuka banged his fist against the wall. “I refuse to let my daughter marry anyone who would place a rival in her house. And I’m sure most fathers would feel the same.”

  I almost began to pity my youngest brother. “Keshisha,” I said gently, “it’s one thing for our aris to marry a freed slave, but your situation is different.”

  “We’ll run away together.” His voice wasn’t so insistent as when he’d said he loved Zahra.

  “What’s this I hear about Keshisha running away?” Mother stood in the doorway, hands on her hips.

  Yenuka quickly explained the situation, and everyone remained silent while Mother considered the problem.

  “Of course they cannot marry. Hisdadukh is quite right,” she concluded. “And Yenuka is also right. No decent family will let their daughter marry Keshisha if he comes with a concubine.”

  “Mother!” Keshisha whined like a child. “What am I to do?”

  “You will give up this foolishness and marry your cousin Guria.” She turned her attention to Yenuka. “I suggest that you take him back with you to Kafri tomorrow.”

  “I agree,” said Yenuka. “He’ll quickly forget the zonah once the two of them are separated.”

  I wanted to protest that it wasn’t Zahra’s fault that she was a zonah, but Keshisha spoke first. “You can’t do this. I’ll go to Father.”

  Mother rolled her eyes. “As you wish, Son, but you will not like his response any better.”

  Obviously my brother’s yetzer hara had conquered him. Mother was being quite reasonable, considering the circumstances. Father was sure to lose his temper and punish not only Keshisha but Zahra too.

  “Mother, what will happen to Zahra?” I asked.

  “She cannot continue to live here, so the easiest thing would be to sell her.” Mother must have seen my stricken expression because she quickly added, “But I suppose you will be taking her to your new home, which also solves the problem.”

  I had no intention of selling Zahra and going to the slave market to buy a new maidservant. “What about the baby?”

  “You are a married woman, Hisdadukh,” she said. “As part of your dowry, Zahra belongs to you. If you do not want your slave to have children, talk to Shayla about stopping the pregnancy.”

  “She’s already felt life. Wouldn’t that be dangerous?”

  “Don’t do it!” Keshisha cried out. “Don’t kill my child.”

  Mother glared at Keshisha. “You should have considered the consequences before you seduced one of your father’s slaves.”

  “And if I don’t stop the pregnancy?” I asked.

  “You will not be living alone. At a minimum you should speak with Rami and, better yet, with Ukva and Achti.”

  Yenuka took Keshisha by the arm and, none too gently, led him away. Mother directed me not to allow Zahra to leave my room, except when she was serving my meals. At night the door would be guarded.

  Weighed down with guilt, I first searched for Rami and then brought him to Ukva and Achti, who were on the roof watching a golden sunset. A cooling south wind blew gently, and the scene was so peaceful that I hated to disturb them. This debacle was my fault, a result of my lack of vigilance. All I could do was present my predicament and apologize. Ukva was the head of my new household. His decision would be final.

  To my surprise, and relief, Ukva said that he’d heard good things about my maidservant. He saw no reason to risk her health by trying to end her pregnancy, especially since they’d not yet replaced the two slaves who had died during the drought’s pestilence. My joy at his decision made me realize that Zahra was a bond with my parents’ home that I could take with me.

  Another surprise, Achti hugged Ukva gratefully and said that she would be happy to have a baby in the house again. Privately Achti told me that this infant might fool the Evil Eye that had kept her from getting pregnant again. Either that or the Evil Eye might target Zahra’s child instead of her own. In any case Zahra did hair and makeup better than any of the slaves they currently owned. As for how Pushbi would react, she might adore the child or she might loathe it.

  Rami rose higher in my esteem when Father called the entire family, along with all his students, into the traklin for an announcement. They undoubtedly expected that he would give a farewell speech to me and Rami, and then bestow his blessing on me as I left for my new husband’s home. But when I saw Keshisha standing stone-faced next to Father, I knew that we were about to witness my brother’s public ordeal.

  First Father berated Keshisha for being an indifferent student, the worst by far of any he had taught. Then he shamed him further by demonstrating Keshisha’s ignorance of such basic Torah knowledge as whom a Kohen may marry and whom he may not. I could see my brothers and the students looking away and squirming in embarrassment as Keshisha was so openly humiliated.

  Next Father accused him of failing to curb his yetzer hara. Worse than visiting harlots, Keshisha had lain with one of his father’s slaves, in his own home, sneaking about at night like a thief. And when reprimanded for his lechery, he had blamed his sister for not guarding her slave better.

  Father went on criticizing Keshisha, but I didn’t hear him. My blood was boiling. How dare my brother try to deflect his sins onto me! And after I’d arranged to spare his unborn child. I continued to fume until my inner fury was interrupted by Father’s decision on how Keshisha would be punished.

  “My son is too old to be beaten,” he said soberly. “But a slave may be whipped at any age.”

  Ha-Elohim! Father intended to punish Zahra in front of my brother just as he’d done with Nurse and me years ago. My throat tightened and I clutched Rami’s hand as I remembered being forced to watch as Timonus beat Nurse for my misbehavior. No matter how much I hated my brother at that instant, I couldn’t allow Zahra to be whipped to punish him.

  I stood up and addressed the room. “Zahra is my slave now. Father can rebuke my brother however he likes, but he has no authority to chastise her.” I paused and added. “Or to sell her.”

  Rami stood and squeezed my hand in support. “The slave Zahra, part of my wife’s dowry, has come under my control. My brother and I agree that she will not be subjected to any punishment that endangers her or the fetus she carries.”

  Father’s eyes narrowed with frustration, but he knew we were correct. So he turned his rage against Keshisha. “So that you never shame our family again, you are banished from this house and this city. You may collect your things and take a manservant with you. Timonus will give you money for one night’s lodging. Tomorrow morning you are to leave Sura.”

  I glanced at Yenuka, who was exchanging nods with Mother, and then sank back onto my cushion in relief. Keshisha wouldn’t actually be banished; Yenuka would take him back to Kafri. There neither Zahra nor I would have to deal with him.

  Yenuka waited until Rami and I were up and dressed before taking his leave. “I’m sure some hard work harvesting dates will curb our little brother’s yetzer hara. Guria will not marry him until he has fully repented.”

  We walked together down to the canal where the barge carrying his family was docked. “I’m sorry I let you down. I hope Guria doesn’t have to wait too long.”

  “She won’t,” he said. “Keshisha’s rebellious nature will subside when he doesn’t have Father there to rebel against.”

  I watched until their barge disappeared from sight before heading back to the villa. A donkey stood at the courtyard gate, hitched to a cart loaded with chests and baskets containing my belongings.


  It was time to say good-bye to Grandfather. Rami and I approached the bed where he spent much of his time these days, and I sighed with relief when he opened his eyes.

  “So, Hisdadukh, you are leaving me.”

  Tears filled my eyes. “I will miss you, Grandfather.”

  He took my hand, and I startled at how dry and fragile his skin felt. “Promise that you will come to visit on Shabbat.”

  I looked up at Rami, who smiled in agreement. “We will come every week,” I said, leaning over to drop a kiss on Grandfather’s creased forehead.

  My new life was beginning, and part of my old one was ending.

  SIXTEEN

  I couldn’t help but feel disappointed when I became niddah the very next week. The earliest I could visit the mikvah was after sunset on Sixth Day, and thankfully Rami agreed that I could return to the villa with him after Father and the students finished at court. Then I’d have an extra day to spend with Grandfather, and Rahel might even have a bowl for me to inscribe.

  Not that I was unhappy at Rami’s house. True it was smaller and the furniture was old, but when he was home, I often felt as though I would overflow with happiness. Recalling Father’s advice, I tried to appear diffident and hide the pleasure that came merely from being in my husband’s presence. Whenever Rami smiled at me, which thankfully he did often, my heart would swell with such joy that it was almost painful.

  One of my favorite times of day was when Rami returned from Father’s lectures and I washed his feet. Knowing how it inflamed him, I’d feign innocence while my fingers moved sensuously up his legs. My game continued until he grabbed my hands to end the teasing. Often he’d pull me upstairs to use the bed right then.

  Using the bed was a previously unimagined delight—one I never tired of. I made no attempt to hide my pleasure, for it was clear that the more enjoyment I exhibited, the more it excited Rami. Then, after we were sated, I lay in his arms while he related what had happened in Father’s class that day.