Scene 12: The Ancient Book of Tobit

A ruddy-cheeked magistrate robed in layers of silk eyed Tobias as he set a golden bowl before the newlyweds. Tobias and Sarah smiled, bowed and spoke their thanks. “So many guests!” Tobias whispered.

“You know why,” said Sarah, offering an admiring smile and a flutter of long lashes before turning to a woman decked in coin necklaces, who handed her a fine alabaster jar.

Tobias did know why. And it wasn’t just because Sarah’s father, Raguel, was known for his lavish entertainments. People had come from far and wide to gawk at the groom, the demon-slayer. Women in roving groups cast furtive glances at him as they chatted with each other. Some of the men gazed at him openly and saluted with their cups. Others were more reserved, but Tobias could feel their stares.

He scanned the crowd for Raphael, then reminded himself that this was only the first full day of the wedding celebration, much too early to expect Raphael’s return. If he returned at all.

That night Tobias entered the bridal chamber again with dread. Sarah was much more relaxed. He could tell she trusted him to banish any demon that might appear, so he made sure the incense was burning. But he had no more fish heart and liver. Only the packet of gall remained, so he set it beside the incense just in case.

But the demon did not return that night. Neither did Raphael.

On the fourth day of the celebration, as Tobias sat by Sarah among the guests feasting on peacock, honeyed fruits, and Persian wine, he looked up to see Raphael at the door. The man fairly glowed as he nodded at Tobias and took a seat at the table. Soon a servant slipped a small scroll to Tobias. On it was one word: “Success.”

That night when Tobias examined his father’s money bags, he found their seals unbroken. His spirits soared, thinking of his father’s joy at his successful return. For the next ten days, Tobias held his eagerness in check. But the morning after the festivities ended, he approached his father-in-law, who had returned to his customary place on a cushion in the garden, where he was sipping pomegranate juice.

They exchanged pleasantries as a servant handed Tobias a cup. But before he drank, Tobias blurted, “I must go to my father now, or he will give up on me. I’ve been away far too long.”

Raguel waved away the comment. “Stay. I’ll send a message to explain.”

Tobias sipped the tart juice, then squared his shoulders. A bit of haggling was to be expected, but he was not of a mind to skirt the issue. “Thank you, but no. I ask that you send me to my father – with your blessing I hope.”

Raguel grunted and called for his scribe. While Tobias stood by, Raguel dictated a writ bestowing half his property – slaves, cattle, and money – on his new son-in-law. With each addition to the list, Tobias’s jaw dropped further and his eyes widened until he felt like a fool who might drool at any moment.

With a flourish Raguel signed his name to the scroll and said, “May God give you prosperity before I die.”

Tobias closed his mouth. God just had.

- to be continued -

© 2012 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved. Based on The Book of Tobit, circa 200 BCE. Photograph courtesy morguefile.

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Scene 11: The Ancient Book of Tobit

While Tobias worried that he had foolishly lost his father’s money, his father and mother worried that they had lost Tobias. Each morning, blind Tobit ran his fingers over the marks he had scratched on a wax tablet, counting the days. Each evening, he took up his stylus and scratched one more mark.

One morning Tobit heard the footsteps of his wife, Hannah, crossing the courtyard. At this time of day she left to take mended garments to her customers. Instead, she walked toward him.

He straightened, alert as she sat beside him and took the waxed tablet from his lap. “What is it?” he asked.

“The days required for a journey to Ragae have long passed,” she said. “Is it possible that Gabael refuses to release your money?”

Tobit nodded thoughtfully. “It’s possible.”

“Perhaps Gabael is dead, and Tobias petitions someone else.”

Tobit nodded. “It’s possible.”

“Perhaps Tobias lost the receipt.”

Tobit nodded. “It’s possible.”

Hannah lowered her voice to a whisper. “How well did we know his traveling companion. What’s his name?”

“Raphael.”

“Perhaps this Raphael turned on Tobias. Our son could be lying in some ditch mortally wounded. Or . . . or . . . dead for all we know.”

Tobit nodded. “It’s possible.”

“Is that all you can say? It’s possible?” Hannah dropped the wax tablet into Tobit’s lap and rose.

He heard her sandals slap halfway across the stone yard. Then she stopped and wailed, “My child has perished! Oh, my child! Do I not care because I let you go, you, the light of my eyes!”

Tobit huffed. It was the light of his unseeing eyes that was gone. “Calm yourself, Hannah,” he said. “Tobias is young. This is his first journey away from us. Give him a few more days to discover the world.”

“Discover the world? Small comfort that is. He may choose to take the money and never return to us.”

Tobit leaned his head back against the wall. “It’s possible.”

- to be continued -

© 2012 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved. Based on The Book of Tobit, circa 200 BCE. Photograph courtesy morguefile.

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Scene 10: The Ancient Book of Tobit

Tobias left the frenzy of festive preparations at Sarah’s house and wove through Ecbatana’s busy streets toward the bazaar, accompanied by a muscular young man named Phineas. Raguel had appointed Phineas as his son-in-law’s personal guard, though Tobit suspected the guard’s main task was to make sure Sarah’s husband didn’t leave town.

An errant goat loped their way, chased by a shouting girl, and Tobias sidestepped. He had to admit he was tempted to leave town – just for a day or so to retrieve his father’s money from Gabael in Ragae. On the other hand, he didn’t want his new bride to think he had abandoned her, and if she couldn’t go with him . . . well, that’s where Raphael might come in. If he could find the man.

Tobias edged into the milling crowd of shoppers, where the odor of spices and leather and sweat mingled with a tinge of garlic. Over the clamor he called to Phineas. “You’d recognize Raphael, wouldn’t you? Tall. Brown hair with reddish streaks. A leather band across his forehead.”

“I saw him when he arrived at the master’s house, sir.” Phineas craned his neck, eying the swarm of people. “There he is!” He pointed over a sea of heads.

Tobias tried to wedge past shoulders and elbows.

“Let me, sir.” Phineas bulled his way through.

Tobias followed at his heels, admitting that a personal guard did have its benefits. He sidled up to Raphael.

“Ah, Tobias!” Raphael handed him a light blue cloak, finely woven, edged with gold embroidery. “Your appearance is timely. I thought you ought to own something nicer for your wedding celebration.”

Tobias fingered the soft fabric, fit for a prince. “I can’t yet pay –”

“A wedding gift,” said Raphael, counting coins into the merchant’s glad palms. Motioning for Tobias to follow, he headed through the crowd to the far end of the bazaar, where curls of smoke drifted into the air along with the scent of meat. “You have to try the lamb,” he called over his shoulder. “Unusually spiced.”

Soon they were seated on a mat shaded by an awning, while Phineas stood guard outside. A jowly serving woman plunked a plate of sizzling lamb cubes before them. Raphael speared a bite on the tip of his knife, blew on it, then plucked it off with his fingers and popped it into his mouth.

Tobias slipped out his own knife and did the same. Over the juicy mouthful, he said, “You knew I’d live through the night?”

“I didn’t know,” said Raphael. “You might not have followed my instructions.”

“But I did.”

“And I . . . ” Raphael stabbed another bite. “. . . let’s just say I sensed the demon’s departure. I believe you sent him all the way to Egypt.”

Tobias chewed slowly. Egypt. He speared a cube of lamb. “Did you know that Sarah’s father wants me to stay for a fortnight of celebrations?”

“He told me.”

Tobias pointed his knife at Raphael. “You, sir, have interesting powers. Don’t you?”

Raphael raised his eyebrows. “Be careful where you point that knife. A man might take offense, you know. Luckily yours has meat on the end.”

Tobias lowered the blade and his voice. “Your ritual worked to rid us of the demon. Can you say a spell or conjure a vision that would persuade Gabael to bring my father’s money to me from Ragae? I can’t wait a fortnight.”

“I do not conjure or cast spells,” said Raphael. “But, yes, I do have powers. One of the most reliable is known as a long stride. I’ll walk to Ragae on the morrow and retrieve your father’s money from Gabael. You have a receipt for it?”

“I do.” Tobias dug in his waist pouch and found the small scroll beside the packet of fish gall. He handed the receipt to Raphael. “Shall I throw out the gall now?”

“No.” Raphael shot him a stern look and tucked the receipt into his pouch.

As Tobias watched Raphael arrange his cloak to hide the pouch, his chest tightened. What had he done? That receipt was the only proof of money owed to his father, and he had just handed it to a man he hardly knew. One with strange powers and a long stride and a plan to leave town.

- to be continued -

© 2012 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved. Based on The Book of Tobit, circa 200 BCE. Illustration courtesy Dover Angels.

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Scene 9: The Ancient Book of Tobit

When Tobias and Sarah emerged from the bridal chamber, a servant girl trotted up to them and bowed. “Your father requests your presence in the reception garden.” She bustled down the corridor ahead of them. In the mood for a leisurely stroll, Tobias and Sarah were hard-pressed to keep up with her.

It seemed that the whole household had doubled its pace. Maidservants trundled down hallways, laden with piles of cloth, armloads of flowers, or trays of food. Menservants lugged in benches and casks. They acknowledged Tobias with nods and wide-eyed smiles, while Sarah clung to his arm as if to assure herself that he was alive.

As they entered the sunny garden, Raguel rose from his cushion, saluting with his goblet. “My son! My daughter!” His personal servant handed each of them a cup. “Drink! Drink!” urged Raguel.

Son. Tobias sipped the rosy, sweetened pomegranate juice, remembering his duties to his own father.

Raguel patted his belly. “I have proclaimed a fourteen day wedding feast beginning tonight!”

“Fourteen days?” Tobias sputtered. “But I have urgent business in Ragae in Medea.”

Raguel’s smile stiffened, and he motioned to Sarah. “I believe your mother wishes to have your opinion on adornments for our celebration.”

Sarah half-bowed to her father. With a shy smile and a flutter of her long lashes, she handed Tobias her cup and swished out of the garden.

Raguel turned to Tobias. “You have business more urgent than your wife of only one day?”

Tobias shifted from foot to foot, holding two cups and feeling like a fool. “No, sir, it’s just –”

“Do you know how blessed you are to be above ground at this moment? That, in itself, is worthy of celebration. And my daughter, Sarah – would you not say she’s worthy of the risk you took?”

“Oh, yes, sir. Worthy indeed.”

“I’ve invited this entire town and all my business contacts to this celebration to meet you, the demon-slayer.”

“Demon-slayer?”

Raguel circled Tobias, looking him up and down. “You’re alive. You deserve the title, and Sarah – not to mention her mother and me – deserves the celebration.” He paced back to his cushion, rubbing his chin. “I swear that if you stay the fourteen days, I’ll grant you half my property now and send you back to old Tobit in safety. The rest of my property will become yours when I die, of course.” He looked Tobias in the eyes.

Tobias squared his shoulders and met Raguel’s gaze. Sarah was gift enough. But to be called Demon-slayer and own half Raguel’s property now? It was more than he could have dreamed. He nodded. “I’ll stay.”

Raguel rubbed his palms together, grinning once more. “A good son, you are. I’ll have to send my congratulations to Tobit.”

“A good son,” Tobias muttered under his breath. Wouldn’t a good son be on his way to Medea to do his father’s bidding? “A good son.” He drained his cup. Then he drained Sarah’s.

- to be continued -

© 2012 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved. Based on The Book of Tobit, circa 200 BCE. Photo courtesy morguefile.

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Scene 8: The Ancient Book of Tobit

Sarah’s father, Raguel, lay in bed with his eyes wide open, staring into the post-midnight darkness, listening to his wife snore. He imagined the demon at that very moment strangling Tobias. Leaning up on his elbow, he shoved his wooden neck support to the floor. “Royalty can have these blamed bolsters,” he growled and grabbed a cushion for his aching head.

His wife, Edna, roused. “Can’t you sleep?” she mumbled. “You should be exhausted.”

“I am.” He punched the cushion. Not only had he hosted his daughter’s wedding festivities, but after the wary couple had entered the bridal chamber, he had dug Tobias’s grave. He was more than exhausted. He eased back onto the cushion. Straightened his legs. Bent them. Straightened them again.

Edna groaned. “Send one of the maids to the bridal chamber. Let her see if he’s still alive or not.”

“And if not?”

“Bury him.”

“At this time of night?”

“For mercy’s sake,” said Edna. “You’re already awake. Besides, if you bury him now, no one will witness it. We’ll say he backed out at the last minute and ran.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Raguel sat up. “Then maybe I can get some sleep.”

“Then maybe I can get some sleep.” Edna turned her back and pulled the covers over her head.

Raguel padded into an atrium lit by a small hanging oil lamp. He snapped his fingers at a startled watchman, and ordered the man to send a maid into the bridal chamber. The guard asked no questions. All house servants well knew the likely fate of the eighth bridegroom.

Bleary-eyed, Raguel paced the halls as he waited. He ended up in the garden and sank to a cushion.

A tousled maid dashed in and bowed. “They’re asleep, sirrah.”

Raguel straightened. “Both of them? Sleeping? You’re sure?”

She nodded, clutching her robe at the neck. “I checked. Leaned in close. They’re both breathing. Do you wish me to wake them?”

“No, no.” Raguel waved her out. A smile crept over his lips and grew wider until he was grinning like a fool. “Let them sleep! Let them all sleep!” He leaped to his feet and strode back to his bedchamber where Edna was snoring. He started to wake her but changed his mind. Let her sleep. The news would keep.

He fluffed his cushion, lay down, and squeezed his eyes shut. Then opened them again. The creep of dawn had soothed the dark of night into a soft gray. He grinned. He would host a feast for his daughter and her new husband, a feast greater than the town of Ecbatana had ever seen.

He closed his eyes and tried to get comfortable. He lay on his side. Then on his back. He drummed his fingers on his belly. The rooster crowed.

- to be continued -

© 2012 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved. Based on The Book of Tobit, circa 200 BCE. Photo courtesy morguefile.com

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