Waves crashing
mixed with the sounds of splintering wood and the screams of men sent shivers
down the spine of Pharaoh once again waking him from his slumber. He’d been having the same dream every night
now for the past two weeks since the Israelites fled from his army through the Red Sea . As
impossible as it seemed, the Hebrew’s God had done a miraculous thing by
splitting the waters in two. The most
amazing thing about it was the sea bed was dry enough for men to walk on, and
even drive chariots across, there was simply no mud.
Reaching for his
cruse of water, Pharaoh lifted it to his lips, but not before peering inside to
make sure it was water he was about to drink.
One of the many plagues sent upon his people had been all the water turning
into blood and ever since then he did not take a drink without checking
first. Satisfied, he lifted the
container to his lips and drank deeply, allowing the liquid to quench his
thirst.
Placing his drink
back on the table by his bed, he slipped from the bed, placing his feet gently
on the floor half expecting to see frogs once more. These past weeks had been trying on his
leadership of the Egyptian nation.
Facing his half-brother day after day enduring one plague after another
was tiring, not to mention leaving his rule looking incompetent to his
subjects. He’d spent the last two weeks
doing damage control, and enduring long lines of his subjects demanding
retribution for their lost crops, animals, first born children and finally the
soldiers he had lost at the Red Sea .
Calling for his advisers, he pulled on his silk robe and strode over to the chair which used to
belong to his father. Sitting down, he
stroked his chin as he thought about the situations facing his rule now. If only his father were alive to advise him
on how to fix this situation. In all the
years he’d spent at the knee of the former Pharaoh, sitting on the ground as a
child listening to him about how to rule a kingdom, he could not remember one
time this subject had ever come up.
A sob rose up from
his chest, as he thought about his own young son sitting at his feet listening
to his instruction just a few weeks prior; before his death at the hands of the
Israelite’s God. A single tear fell from
his left eye, and he wiped it away with his finger as a renewed hatred for
those slaves burned in his heart. “What
will be the result of my rule now?” he thought, “My wealth is gone, the people
are on the verge of revolting and my son is dead.”
Clearing his
throat, Pharaoh’s chief advisor bowed low as he said, “My lord, we are here to
serve you.” Looking up in acknowledgement, he motioned for the men to come before him. Straightening up in his chair, he smiled a
weary smile and said, “Thank you for coming at this late hour. Once again, I have been pulled from sleep by
this insidious dream and need your council on what I am to do in ruling my
people now.”
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