The Boudicca Parchments

Chapter 17

“ ‘And I will set aside for thee two hundred silver zuz mohar due thee for thy maidenhood…’”

“Two hundred what?” asked Morgan.

HaTzadik was translating from the parchment scroll that Sam Morgan had brought him, while Morgan held it open and looked on eagerly.

“It’s a unit of currency,” HaTzadik explained. “The zuz was a Tyrean coin… used in Biblical times.”

“Does that mean this is a document from Biblical times?”

“Not necessarily. But they refer to a Biblical coin because for this type of document they wanted to emphasize that it was a Biblical obligation.”

“What do you mean?”

“After the Bible and the oral law, the great sages created two documents of scholarship and commentary about it, called the Gemara. The Gemara, together with the written law or Mishneh Torah is called the Talmud. But there were two Talmuds: the Jerusalem Talmud and Babylonian Talmud. The Babylonian was seven times the size of the Jerusalem and much more coherent. But on the subject of the bride price, there is an ongoing dispute between the two Talmuds about whether this was a Biblical obligation or one decided by the rabbis at the time of the Sanhedrin. However, they all agreed that the protection of the rights of the wife was vitally important to the Jewish people. So it was decided to use this language in the marriage document — referring to a Biblical coin — so as to clearly imply that it was a Biblical obligation.”

“And what does it mean ‘I will set aside’?”

“It means he doesn’t have to pay it at the time of the marriage. It was a conditional promise for the future, if they get divorced.”

“Oh so it’s like a prenuptial agreement?”

HaTzadik looked at Sam Morgan irritably.

“You could say that. It’s more like a prenuptial clause within the marriage certificate.”

“What else does it say?”

“It continues — again referring to the Torah to emphasize the venerable nature of the husband’s obligations: ‘which belong to thee according to the law of the Torah, and thy food, clothing, and other necessary benefits which a husband is obligated to provide; and I will live with thee in accordance with the requirements prescribed for each husband.’ ”

“What are these other requirements prescribed for each husband?”

“Apart from food and clothing you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Well basically it’s his conjugal duties.”

HaTzadik looked embarrassed when he said this.

“That’s a religious obligation?”

“For the husband. For the wife it’s a right.”

“What if she’s not in the mood?”

“She can say no.”

“What if he’s not in the mood?”

Again Shalom Tikva looked uncomfortable.”

“He’s supposed to do it when she wants.”

“What… whenever she asks?”

“He’s… not supposed to wait for her to ask. He’s supposed to look for signs that she wants it and then offer it.”

“Cor blimey! Who needs feminism when they’ve got Judaism?”

“There were subsequent clarifications of the law in the Shulhan Aruch.”

“What’s that?”

“A codified form of the Jewish law, stripped down to the essentials. It basically describes a man’s conjugal obligations in terms of where he works and how far he has to travel to work.”

“You mean… like… it takes account of whether he’s too tired?”

Morgan was grinning from ear to ear, both at what he was hearing and at HaTzadik’s discomfort at talking about it.

“Basically yes.”

“So if his missus was in the mood, he couldn’t refuse point blank… but he could say he was shagged out after a hard days work?”

The puerile grin remained on Sam Morgan’s face.

“Except on the Sabbath.”

The grin vanished — replaced by a look of confusion.

“But I thought the Sabbath was a holy day? Aren’t you people supposed to be thinking about God and all that holy shi — holy stuff?”

HaTzadik looked at Morgan with growing irritation.

“Between a man and his wife, sex is a holy act. Now will you please drop the subject.”

“Okay,” said Morgan, nodding slowly. “But does that mean that this parchment is what I thought it was.”

Again HaTzadik thought carefully before speaking.

“It would appear to be.”

The look on Shalom Tikva’s face was grave. But before either of them could say any more, the tension that hung in the air was broken by a loud knock on the door, and a voice shouting from outside. The voice was that of Baruch Tikva — Shalom’s son.

And he sounded agitated.