György Spiró - Captivity

Esdras and Johanen just gazed stupidly, while Uri did the math in his head.

“That’s true,” he said. “But maybe the man made a mistake in his calculations.”

“In principle, he could have,” Master Jehuda nodded. “In such cases the power is vested in us to correct a bill of divorce and to get it signed by him and the witnesses. But he’s dead now, and it’s useless for us to alter it. So what are we to do?”

Master Jehuda’s manner of proceeding was to tease things out by posing questions; he had no other approach.

Esdras and Johanen had no idea; Uri mulled it over.

“I have no idea,” he announced.

“That’s it!” exclaimed Master Jehuda. “That’s it! We have to hear the woman out! Didn’t that ever occur to you?”

Uri bit his lip; that had not occurred to him. He was being put to shame by a bumbling, blaring, blustering master craftsman! He fumed.

Master Jehuda sent a servant to the widow with a message, and she appeared on the next law-day. She was a sad woman dressed in mourning clothes like any elderly widow, though her sons were still minors and she could not have been more than twenty-five years old. She said that her husband had never wanted to divorce her; that was merely a lie constructed by his elder brother, who, she was now hearing, wanted to marry her even though they had never been able to stand each other. She didn’t understand what this might be about. She herself had never seen the bill of divorce.

Master Jehuda sent away Martha, the widow, and summoned the two alleged witnesses to the letter. One had the features of a mouse, the other of a rat; Uri shuddered when he saw them. They were both in rags and stank to high heaven.

Both asserted that Ezekiel had dictated the bill of divorce in their presence and that they had signed it in front of him when he was still alive (the date was on it). They had also been present when he handed it to his wife.

Jehuda dismissed them.

“So?” he asked.

In Esdras’s opinion Martha had been telling the truth, while in Johanen’s opinion that was not necessarily the case.

Uri then asked when a bill of divorce became valid.

“That’s a good question,” Master Jehuda nodded. “According to the sage Hillel a bill of divorce becomes effective when the woman receives and reads it and understands she is again free to marry. But according to his colleague Shammai it is valid if it is simply read out in front of her.”

“The two witnesses were bribed,” said Uri. “Only I don’t understand why.”

“That’s it!” exclaimed Master Jehuda. “Let’s assume Ezekiel did not want a divorce. The elder brother would then be obliged to marry his younger brother’s widow, in which case all the property would be his. Thomas knew, though, that Martha would be unwilling to marry him after her husband’s death and would quite certainly go through with the ceremony of halizah. In that case he would get nothing. However, with a forged bill of divorce, which can’t be proven to have been drawn up after the event, the relation between mother and sons would be destabilized. The forged bill of divorce would raise discord, one or more three of the sons flees to Thomas to be kept under his guardianship, and he, together with them, composes a last will and testament containing the inheritance to which they are entitled. Until they have reached the age of majority, he administers it and derives the benefit, with only the very little the law provides going to the widow. She is wiped out, and he accomplishes his aim. No doubt he was attracted to Martha, who was very good-looking when she was young, but even then she did not wish to share his bed, so this was his way of getting revenge!”

Uri was astounded as he listened to the master: the beast knew a thing or two after all! Uri was none too pleased in realizing it.

“Martha was a pretty girl when she was twelve,” Master Jehuda nodded, lost in reverie. Esdras and Johanen nodded along too. They gave thanks to the Lord for creating something of beauty; if only he had created it to last just a tiny bit longer! Uri imagined the black-haired young girl, who could not be much older than Martha had been when she was still entrancing. In another fifteen years she too would be an ancient hag.

“So, what should we do to prevent this disgraceful deed?” the master asked.

Uri thought a bit before answering.

“It seems likely, I know, that the bill of divorce was forged, but let’s pretend that it’s genuine. The woman spits in front of her brother-in-law and no longer has to become his wife. We ratify the ownership of the land but amend the bit that relates to the orchard. Instead of four qabs she’ll get three.”

“That we can’t amend!” screeched Master Jehuda. “Only the head of the family can do that, which in this case means the dead man’s older brother, Thomas. There is no brother older than him, only younger brothers, and the father is no longer alive.”

They fell silent. It was no easy matter sitting in judgment in Rome, where one couldn’t tell who was the head of a clan, and evidently it wasn’t easy here either, even if everybody had known everybody else since birth.

“One thing we can do,” said Master Jehuda after some rumination. “We drum up two witnesses who swear they saw Thomas, the elder brother, forging the bill of divorce. Then it’s two witnesses’ word against two — and all four are lying. There’s no way for one side to disprove the other. It will cost the widow a bit, but it will be worth it. After hearing the false witnesses we will decide that the bill of divorce is genuine, but faulty and thus null. Since the deceased is not in a position to rewrite it, it’s as if it did not exist. We will not request that the head of the family correct it; that’s not a requirement. The woman will not insist on it; she spits in front of him, so she’ll be left to live in peace with her sons and daughters.”

A sage man was Jehuda; he was not a master for no reason.

Slow-talking Johanen nodded respectfully and kept on nodding until he noticed that he was in fact shaking his head. With great difficulty he formulated his objection, which was, “If the bill of divorce is faulty, it ought to be amended.”

“It doesn’t need to be,” said Master Jehuda, turning purple.

“Yes, we need to,” persisted Johanen.

Everyone looked at Esdras, who was not just slow of speech but slow in his thinking. He cogitated long and hard before shaking his head. Master Jehuda jumped up irately and, quite spryly considering his bulk, raced around the room.

“You can’t mean that we should ask Master Joshua, can you?” he bellowed.

Esdras prepared himself to give a slow nod, at which point the matter suddenly took on an unexpected new complexion. As it was explained to Uri, it would be necessary to see Master Joshua in the seventh village for him to give an opinion.

Uri suspected that there were no warm feelings between Jehuda and Joshua: both were masters and the authority of their respective villages, so what reason would they have to respect each other?

The issue then came up of whom to send to see Master Joshua.

The two elected magistrates were unwilling to go; it was quite enough that they were already losing their Mondays and Thursdays during the harvest.

Johanen put forward a few names, but Master Jehuda did not believe any of them were suitable, at which Johanen took offense. Uri inferred that he had recommended various relatives or their sons.

Esdras, out of slowness and for safety’s sake, had no recommendations. Jehuda looked at Uri.

“I can go,” he said. “But give me someone to go with who knows the way.”

He was glad at the prospect of at last getting free of the village. Other villages might be no better, but at least he would be away from this one.