Scene 14: The Ancient Book of Tobit

Tobit sat cross-legged under his fig tree, leaning his head against the trunk, his eyes closed. Why he bothered to close them, he didn’t know. Open, closed, it made no difference. He saw nothing. But somehow closed eyes and rest went together. Force of habit. And, by force of habit, when he heard a knock at the gate, his eyes flew open.

“Hannah,” he called. “Are we expecting anyone this time of day?” He heard her sandals scuff from the direction of the house into the courtyard.

“No doubt someone with a torn robe that needs to be rewoven. By this evening,” she muttered.

The knock came again, this time accompanied by a voice. “Father? Mother? I’ve returned.”

Hannah let out a cry, her sandals clipping at a run. Tobit rose, fumbling for his walking stick. “Tobias?” he shouted. He heard the gate open. Tobias and Hannah both talked at the same time, Hannah in a scolding tone. Tobit caught the words smell and wash at once, but there was joy in her voice.

“My son!” Tobit headed toward them, wishing with all his heart that he could see.

“Father!” Tobias’s footsteps sprinted across the yard. He smelled of fish.

Tobit laughed. Had his son come back by sea? A foolish, roundabout way to come home. But what did it matter now? He opened his arms wide, but instead of enjoying his son’s embrace, he felt Tobias slather ointment on his eyes. The vile stuff stank like fish and stung like fire.

“Gah!” Tobit pushed his son away and rubbed his weeping eyes. They felt scaly. But the scales were sloughing off like shedding snakeskin. “Light!” he whispered. He saw light. He rubbed and blinked and wept until he saw his son, taller, bearded, tanned, and richly robed. “Is it really you?”

“It is.” Tobias grinned, wiping his hands on a rag.

Tobit didn’t wait for Tobias to toss the rag aside. He embraced his son long and hard.

“I’ve returned with your money,” said Tobias. “And a wife.”

Tobit drew back and scanned the courtyard. Hannah – beautiful, white-haired Hannah – stood beside his son’s tall traveling companion. “Where is your wife, then?” asked Tobit.

“Raphael and I ran ahead. She’s on the way with . . . just come and see.” Tobias drew him toward the street.

Tobit strode confidently alongside Tobias to the city gate, marveling at the buildings, fountains, donkeys, birds, trees, men, women, children. And –

“Sarah,” said Tobias as a beautiful young woman bowed before them.

* * *

That night Tobit, his son, and Raphael sat around a brazier in the courtyard. After Tobias recounted all that had occurred on his journey, Tobit looked across the brazier to Raphael, who sat on the other side. “We’ve not paid you enough,” he said. “You are responsible for my son’s good fortune. And for my eyesight.” He blinked away a blur and felt a tear slide down his cheek.

“I am well paid,” said Raphael. “When you said your first prayer as a child, Tobit, I was with you. As you raised your son, I was with you. When you left your wife’s fine dinner to bury the dead, I was with you. You prayed, as did your daughter-in-law, and I brought the remembrance of those prayers before the Holy One. God sent me to free Sarah from the demon and to cure you from blindness.”

Tobit stared at Raphael. “Who are you?”

Raphael stirred the coals in the brazier. “I am one of the seven holy angels who offer up the prayers of God’s people and enter the presence of the glory of the Holy One.”

Tobias prostrated himself immediately, but Tobit bowed slowly in awe, his newly restored eyes feasting on the sight of an angel in his courtyard.

“Don’t be afraid. Give your thanks to God.” Raphael rose. “I must leave now, but know that I am with you. Peace.” The angel grew taller and thinned like a rising mist until he vanished.

Tobit hosted a seven-day wedding feast for his son, so for a second time, Tobias and Sarah joyfully celebrated their marriage. Then they settled into a normal family life with Tobit and Hannah. Tobit lived to be 158 years old, and Tobias gave him a splendid funeral. A few years later Hannah died. Tobias buried her beside Tobit. As for Tobias, he and Sarah and their sons returned to Ecbatana, where they inherited Raguel’s property. There, at the age of a hundred and twenty-seven, as Tobias lay on his deathbed, he heard a familiar voice call his name. There stood the tall angel Raphael, his hand extended. “One more journey,” said Raphael.

“One more,” said Tobias. He reached for Raphael’s hand and felt as light as air.

- the end -

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

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Scene 13: The Ancient Book of Tobit

“Ah, Nineveh!” Raphael pointed to the dark rectangle on the horizon. “We’ll arrive before nightfall.”

The thought filled Tobias with fresh energy, and he lengthened his stride. “Home!” he called over his shoulder to Sarah on her donkey. Her two maids rode beside her, followed by a wagon of goods trailed by herders and drovers with sheep, goats, oxen, and cows.

Tobias laughed at the sight. He had left home a boy on an errand with one companion; he returned a man with a wife and an entire caravan. What would his parents say? As he looked again toward Nineveh, his smile faded. What indeed would his parents say? They had no idea he was returning. He could hardly show up at their gate unannounced and expect them to host the whole entourage with no notice.

Raphael cleared his throat. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? We should let your father know you’re returning.”

“We’ll send a runner with a message,” said Tobias.

“Better yet, you and I can run ahead,” said Raphael. “Do you still have the fish gall?”

Tobias glanced sidelong at Raphael, who after all these weeks still seemed in many ways a stranger. The man obviously had unusual powers and insight, but this fish business was weird. “Fish gall,” Tobias muttered, digging into his waist pouch. “I still have it.”

“Keep it in hand.” Raphael shot him a challenging grin and sprinted ahead.

Tobias broke into a trot, careful not to squeeze the packet, which to his dismay, he could now smell quite well. Fortunately when they reached Nineveh’s massive walls, the odor mingled with scents of the city. He and Raphael shouldered through crowds swarming through the main gateway, a grand tunnel that echoed with shouts and calls and clattering carts.

By the time they reached the street where Tobit’s house stood, the matter of the gall had retreated to the back of Tobias’s mind. But as he headed for his father’s gate, Raphael tugged him aside and spoke in a low, serious voice. “Remember how I instructed you to get rid of the demon?”

Tobias nodded. “With the fish heart and liver.”

“That night you were afraid enough to try anything,” said Raphael. “This time you are not afraid.”

“Should I be?”

“I’m talking about trust. You trusted me last time because you were afraid. This time you must simply trust.” Raphael nodded at the packet of gall. “Open it and smear it on your hands.”

Tobias hesitated, but Raphael’s eyes searched his. Trust. Tobias swallowed his protest and untied the smelly packet. A bitter taste swelled in his throat.

Raphael nodded his approval. “As soon as you see your father, rub the gall on his eyes. It will sting.”

Tobias eyed Raphael warily as he smeared the fish gall on his fingers. Then he approached his father’s gate, humiliated. Over the past few weeks he had been bathed, perfumed, and robed in silks. Now he was to present himself to his father, smelling like a fisherman returning from a year at sea. He shot Raphael a glance of disgust.

“Trust me,” said Raphael.

Tobias knocked.

- to be continued -

© 2012 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved. Based on The Book of Tobit, circa 200 BCE. Illustration Tobias and the Angel by follower of Andea del Verrocchio, c. 1470-5 courtesy Dover Books, Angels.

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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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Scene 6: The Ancient Book of Tobit

With every step toward Raguel’s house, Tobias struggled to word his argument in a way that wouldn’t offend Raphael. Should he flatly refuse to let Raphael speak to Raguel about marriage? Or should he try to reason? Seven men had died trying to wed this girl. The odds were not in his favor

“There’s the house.” Raphael pointed to a large, whitewashed, flat-roofed building. Only its upper story was visible above the vine-covered wall that enclosed the property.

Raphael quickened his pace, but Tobias slowed. A shift of light through one of the upstairs latticed windows gave him the feeling that someone was watching. He trotted to Raphael and caught his sleeve before he knocked at the gate.

Raphael turned, his fist poised to knock. “Yes?”

Tobias cleared his throat. “About that marriage offer . . .”

Raphael knocked.

Tobias broke into a cold sweat. “I think –”

The gate opened, and a slender young woman leaned out, slipping a storm-gray shawl over her shiny black hair. Tobias froze with his mouth open as her dark, clever eyes assessed them. Raphael made introductions, but Tobias hardly heard.

“I’m Sarah, daughter of Raguel.” She opened the gate wider. “Step in. I’ll fetch my father.”

As Sarah swished into the house, they stepped into the tree-shaded courtyard. Raphael turned to Tobias. “What were you about to say?”

Tobias clamped his mouth shut. “Nothing.”

Sarah returned to the door and beckoned them inside. They followed her through a tiled entrance hall and down a wide hall to a reception garden perfumed by pink and white blossoms lacing the potted bushes. In the center of the garden a rotund man lolled on a floor cushion with a scribe at his feet. Sarah extended a bangled arm toward him. “My father, Raguel.”

The scribe scuttled out of the garden, and Raguel rose, eying Tobias. “Young man, you are a replica of my cousin Tobit!”

Tobias warmed. “He’s my father.”

“Ha!” Raguel returned to his seat as servant laid out floor cushions for his guests. “And Tobit is well?”

Sarah and her mother stepped in as Tobias told about Tobit’s blindness. The family frowned, shook their heads, and spoke their regrets. Then servants carried in trays laden with savory meats, dried fruits, and warm honey cakes. As they feasted, Raguel entertained them with tales of his relations. Daylight dimmed. Lamps were lit.

Tobias, well-fed and charmed by the evening, leaned toward Raphael. “Might now be the time to speak of . . . what we talked about?”

“Why not?” Raphael raised his cup to Raguel and made the proposal.

Sarah bit her lip. Her mother, Edna, grabbed her hand. Raguel leaned back, patting his full belly. “Nothing would please me more, except . . .” He exchanged glances with Edna.

“Except what?” asked Tobias.

“Except it must be done tonight.”

Tobias stared at Raguel. Tonight? He had expected a betrothal period. He knew his father would counsel him to be wary of a man too eager to make a deal. Raguel was not only eager, he was desperate. But with dark-eyed Sarah standing near enough for Tobias to catch the sweet scent of her perfume, he felt desperate too. He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “Tonight.”

Raguel saluted with his drink. “Let it be done. Wife, get the bridal chamber ready.” He refilled his guest’s wine cups, and the house became a flurry of activity.

When Raguel left the garden to find his scribe to write the marriage agreement, Tobias felt the blood drain from his face. He turned to Raphael. “What have I done?”

“You’ve arranged a nice match for yourself.” Raphael drained his cup.

“You mean I’ve arranged my own death.”

“Ah.” Raphael licked his lips. “The demon.” He narrowed his eyes. “Do you still have the goatskin pouch with the fish heart and liver in it?”

“And the gall?” Tobias nodded, wrinkling his nose. He wondered if it was his imagination or if he was really catching a whiff of it.

“Save the gall. You won’t need it tonight. But take the liver and heart with you. There’s always incense in a bridal chamber. Add the fish heart and liver to the ashes of the incense until the mixture smokes. The demon will smell it and flee, never to return.”

Tobias wondered if Sarah would smell it and flee as well.

“Then you and Sarah must kneel and pray together for protection,” said Raphael. “Don’t be afraid. She was destined for you from the beginning.”

“Are you sure?” asked Tobias. “How do you know these things?”

“I make it my duty to be informed.” Raphael refilled his own cup and offered more wine to Tobias, who drank another cup before Raguel returned with his scribe.

After the marriage agreement was signed, Sarah entered wearing a white wedding robe and flowers in her dark hair. With servants attending as witnesses, Raguel gave Tobias the hand of his daughter in marriage.

As they danced, ate, and drank late into the night, Tobias watched the worry creep into Sarah’s eyes, and his own fear grew. Would he have to fight a demon? What did a demon look like? Was Raphael trustworthy? Did he want Tobit’s son to die so he could gain access to Tobit’s money? By the time Tobias and Sarah were escorted to the bridal chamber, he was questioning his own sanity.

Raguel smiled stiffly as he watched Tobias and Sarah enter the bridal chamber. As soon as the door closed, he excused himself, went outside, and dug Tobias’s grave.

- to be continued -

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

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Scene 5: The Ancient Book of Tobit

The purple sky of evening was darkening when Tobias and Raphael reached the river Tigris. Raphael tossed down his journey pack and stretched. “A good place to spend the night,” he said.

Tobias agreed. If he had been in charge, he would have stopped at the well they passed a few hours ago. But Raphael strode on as if he had just begun the journey. And this was their first day of travel. Tobias waded into the river and ducked his head into the chill water. As he came back up, dripping and grinning, a fish leaped up as well.

“Catch it!” Raphael lay back on the bank and rested on his elbows.

Tobias eyed the spreading ripples where the fish had slipped back in. He had never caught a fish with bare hands.

“Be still. Watch for it again, and when it jumps, catch it.”

Tobias stood as still as he could, his hands spread. Even if the fish jumped again, he doubted he could catch it. Suddenly it arced out of the water. Tobias lurched forward, grabbed, and found a wriggling fish in his grip.

“Supper!” Raphael crowed as Tobias threw the flopping fish onto the bank. “Cut up the fish. We’ll eat the meat, but save the heart, liver, and gall.” He dug a small, empty goatskin pouch out of his journey pack and tossed it to Tobias. “Put them in there.”

As Tobias sliced into the fish, he asked, “What are the liver, heart, and gall for?”

Raphael, clearing ground for a campfire, shrugged. “You never know when you might need such things.”

By the time the sun had fully risen the next morning, they were on their way again. Rested and eager, they made good time, but as they neared Ragae, Raphael pointed to a side road. “We’ll turn off there and stay the night with Raguel in Ecbatana for the night. He’s a relative of yours.”

“Can we not reach Ragae tonight?” asked Tobias. “I had hoped to present the receipt for my father’s money tomorrow.”

“You’ve business in Ecbatana as well,” said Raphael. “I plan to ask Raguel to give his only daughter, Sarah, to you in marriage.”

Tobias jerked to attention. “What?”

“I think you should marry Sarah.” Raphael grinned.

Tobias’s mouth flopped open and closed like the gasping, dying fish.

“You’re her only relative, so it’s your right to marry her. She’s beautiful and sensible –”

“And cursed,” said Tobias. “We hear the news. Her father married her to one man after another. Seven husbands she’s had, and none lived through the wedding night. It’s said that a demon is in love with her and strangles any man who goes near her.”

“Just meet her and see what you think.”

Tobias followed Raphael down the road to Ecbatana, wondering if he should turn back and risk travelng to Ragae alone. He cast a sidelong glance at his tall, confident companion and sighed. One night with relatives in Ecbatana would provide plenty of family news to take back to his parents. But he would have to be on his guard and circumvent any marriage arrangements. Otherwise, he’d return home in a shroud.

- to be continued -

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

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Scene 4: The Ancient Book of Tobit

Tobias dashed into the courtyard, breathless. He found his father under the fig tree and squatted beside him. “I’ve found a man to travel with me to Ragae,” he panted. “Or rather, I’m to travel with him.”

Tobit raised his bushy white eyebrows. “Who’s the man?”

“Raphael,” said Tobias. “He wants to leave today. As soon as I can pack.”

Tobit’s eyebrows lowered. “Do I know a Raphael?”

Tobias described the tall, brown-haired stranger, but left out the silver sword.

“You must bring him to meet me,” said Tobit.

“But Father.” Tobias rose. “He’s waiting for me. We’re to set out as soon as I join him.”

“You can’t expect me to let you travel with a man I’ve not even met,” said Tobit. “Fetch this Raphael. Bring him here. If he seems trustworthy, you can pack while I visit with him.”

Tobias’s shoulders slumped. With every stride home, he had become more and more excited about the journey. What if the stranger didn’t meet his father’s high expectations? He sighed. “All right. I’ll see if he’ll come.” Back he ran, to the bazaar.

The tall stranger was easy to locate and willingly accompanied Tobias, who matched his pace to Raphael’s long-legged stroll. As they entered Tobit’s courtyard, Tobias noticed that his mother had set out refreshments and cushions, and his father had combed his hair.

Introductions were made, and Tobias and Raphael sat. Tobit waved at the bowl of dried fruit. “Eat. Please. Be at home.” As Raphael took a dried fig, Tobit asked, “What tribe and family do you belong to?”

“Are you looking for a tribe and family, or a traveling companion for your son?” Raphael bit into the fig.

“I simply ask for your connections.” Tobit’s unseeing eyes stared intently in the direction of Raphael’s voice.

“I’m with the family of Azariah, son of Hananiah the elder,” said Raphael.

Tobit’s face lit up. “You’re a kinsman, then! I traveled with Hananiah in my younger days. If you’re as honest as he, I could choose no one better to journey with my son.”

“Mmm,” said Raphael, chewing the fig. “I am honest, sir. I am that.”

Tobit turned to Tobias. “Pack your journey bag, son, and may God prosper your trip.”

Tobias did not have to be told twice. He hurriedly packed his bag, and before an hour had passed, he and Raphael were on their way.

Tobit stood at the gate beside his wife, Hannah, trying to hear over her sniffles. As his son’s footsteps joined the sounds of passersby, Tobit imagined the scene, two travelers heading south, disappearing around the curve in the road. He rubbed his eyes. They could not see, but they could weep.

- to be continued -

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

 

 

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