The Road to Ragae

1: A Decent Pessah

"But you're telling me," said young Tobias incredulously, "that my father's blindness was caused by – "

"Yes." The doctor nodded gravely. "Unless a miracle cure is found within the next two or three weeks, he will go to his grave blind."

Tobit groaned on his thin, piss-stained mattress. "I wish you wouldn't talk about me as if I was already there."

Hannah, Tobias' mother, beckoned them quietly to the living room. "But doctor," she said, "we are a humble family. I am already working morning to night to support my husband and son – and all in all we are barely making ends meet. How am I to spare enough for medicine when we have to scrape the crumbs from the plates to fill our stomachs?"

"Medicine? No, good woman, no medicine made by man will cure your husband. He might live like any man to the last of his elderly years; then again, he might not. Tobit, it seems to me, has begun to lose the will to live." He clasped her careworn hands heavily. "All you can do," he said, looking to Tobias as well, "is to be good and kind to him and make his final days as easy as possible."

That night as Tobias came to wish his father good night, the man stopped his son. "I have a small surprise for your mother," he said. "But it is a surprise that lies some distance from here, and which you must help me retrieve."

Intrigued, the nineteen-year-old boy sat by Tobit's side. The sick man continued: "In the town of Ragae I depositeda small fortune some eight, ten years ago, before they plundered our homes and stole our property – " At the mention of the anti-Semite enemy Tobit fell into a fit of coughing, from anger and bitterness perhaps. Feeling tears well up in his eyes, Tobias held his father until the coughing slowed. "Now you mustn't expect too much, it's not a rich man's lump sum; but it's enough to see you through your studies, maybe even a bit more."

"No, Father, please; I gave up being a scholar some time ago. The money can go to feeding us – and Mother won't have to work so hard – "

"Be quiet. It is my wish for you to resume your studies. Do not let my misfortune become your future, son. You may be a simple farmer's son but I'm telling you, you could be so much more." He paused to draw breath. "Go out into the world, make a good living and save your mother from a life of hardship. But for now." His voice was growing softer, and Tobias had to lean closer. "Take out some of the money, enough to buy us a good, hearty meal for Pessah. We have not had a real celebration in so long. And your mother is filled with guilt every time for not being able to put nice food on the table for the festivity."

Tobias bowed his head. "You are right. I cannot even remember our last Passover save for the matza bread. And we have just run out of matza."

"Get some, then, on your way home."

The boy nodded determinedly and rose. "I shall leave first thing tomorrow morning, father."

"Oh, and son."

"Yes?"

"Last night a man came to me and introduced himself as a distant kinsman who has just returned from far abroad. He was saddened to find us in our current situation, and sorry he has nothing to offer. He did, however, offer to be your guide – most insistently – when I told him of my plan. His name is Azariah, and he will be waiting for you at the edge of the village."

"How will he know when to intercept me?"

"Oh, he said something about…having a way of knowing…" Tobit was drifting off now, carried away by the mercy of sleep. "Accept his company, Tobias. He seems very wise in the ways of the world… He will be a great help to you, I'm sure."

This is where the story begins. Now you have the premise; on to the actual tale!